Am I on spring break?

I stayed up all night last night, chilled on the beach all day today and then headed back to the hostal for HAPPY HOUR! Iquique feels like one of those stupid Girls Gone Wild videos but without the bare-all. And it's not all my fault! Mark showed up yesterday. A sarcastic Australian (is that redundant?) surfer and we talked all night. And Meg is a really great partner in crime as well. Does anybody remember that series? It was with Linda Carter and Loni Anderson? Anyway, I got dibs on being Loni. That's decided. And I'm seriously going to need to do the Master Cleanser when I get back.

This afternoon, Meg, Maya (Santiago-born, living in San Pedro, cold desert town) and I sat on the beach and talked about...guess what? Boys. Seems I'm not the only one looking for a man who can deal with me. Maya says she's a tad on the bitchy side with men so we decided what we need are men who can be bigger bitches than us. Not like Rupaul...men who can put us in our places from time to time, knowing the right time to do so. Kind of silly really. It's almost like taming a horse or something. All instinctual. Strike me down, women's lib. I guess we're all just animals, the women too...

Verklempt

Have I mentioned Meg yet? Don't think so. Corvalis, Oregon. An awesome States girl. Props to the West coast. You done good with this one. She showed up on Sunday and we've been laughing ever since. Stupid, ridiculous, hilarious jokes, same sense of wacky humor. It's been a welcome relief. Instead of ¨What did you think of Machu Picchu? And where did you stay in Arequipa?¨ it's been, ¨so what'd you think of Perúvian men? And are they tall?¨ She's probably 5'10 and headed to Perú next...

The story of our lives in 3 days, it's been really fun to be able to chat up a girlfriend. And a cool one from the States. Improper, on occasion, laughing louder than me, we've apparently woken the entire hostal up a few nights. Stella Schwartz, my Long Island alter-ego, now has a cousin on the west coast. Lois LaRue and her husband Ruben. We talked about Bahbra and butta, I'm getting a little verklempt just thinking about it. Sad to say, I've gotten more exercise laughing with her than probably any other part of the trip. HA!

Speaking loudly

Something that I think happens in New York as well as here. People ride around in their cars announcing things over the loud speaker. Fish for sale, vote for this candidate, specials of the day. It's a hoot.

And by the way. I think I've decided that love is a choice. And both people have to come to that choice or else it ends up in heartache. My choice is not going to end up in heartache.

Jar of hearts

I'm not doing anything--relaxing on the beach--and I'm getting restless. Plus it's cloudy so not even good for catching rays. And I just don't know what I'm going to do. I'm on vacation for me. To see all sorts of cool things and open my eyes and heart to the world. I want to be able to concentrate on me, my future, but I always end up worrying about some guy. It's frustrating. As though the pull of my heart overwhelms my entire body. And it's only an illusion anyway. I want to pull out my heart, like the scary guy from Temple of Doom tries to do to Indy, and put it in a jar. That way it's separate and I can see what's happening with it.

So I've still gotta do SCUBA and skydiving. SCUBA I can work out here, but skydiving has to wait for Santiago. And everyone's telling me how amazing Buenos Aires is, so I'll have to add that in for good measure. I like being here in Iquique but I don't feel like I belong here. Not sure my destiny lies in Chilé. Not that I have a clue where it does lie but I don't think it's here.

Substitute

I finished my book. Love in the Time of Cholera. It made me cry several pages before the end. Actually crying, lying on the beach tears down my face into the sand. It was beautiful. The moment when she & Florentino undress for the first time, she tells him not to look because he won't like what he sees, he turns anyway and loves her that much more. Then he undresses too, throws each article of clothing at her as he does and they almost die laughing. I know. I'm a sap. But you have to read this book.

I baked a cake for the man today. It was a production because it was a surprise. Today's his birthday. I know. Great. A Gemini. I love them in the female form. Ain't no better girlfriend in the world! But as a dude...well...? Anyway, the oven here has no temperature gauge. And I actually had to cook the frosting. No Duncan Hines, Betty Crocker. Funny. So it was double decker chocolate cake with raspberry sauce in the middle and chocolate frosting. Went over pretty well but I'm not sure this dude's a man I'd marry anymore. Not because he's unworthy. He's just a little inconsiderate. And maybe all this heart stuff is just a substitute for something else. Like margarine. Me, I'm a Southern girl. And as much as my mom had us eating oleo (she still calls it that!! Love you, Mom!), nothing beats the real thing...BUTTER.

What a bore

Didn't do much today at all. YES!

Sorry, how boring have I gotten?!?

Animals

A day spent on the beach mostly. A little yoga and shrimp empanadas. Damn, this is the life.

In San Pedro, I picked up Love in the Time of Cholera, Gabriel Garcia Marquez. It fills my heart with sorrow, then on the next page, joy. Then strips me of that joy. Woah, what a talented writer. I'm so impressed, inspired, in love with this book. I don't want it to end. I'll probably leave it somewhere unfinished just so it will linger without ever having to end. Or maybe I'll finish it and bid it a fond adieu. Who knows?

In the afternoon, I took the photos I wanted to take in Iquique the first time I was here. It's such an interesting blend here of old buildings, old charm and then grafitti and funky sculptures. People compare it to Miami, but it's inaccurate. It's its own animal.

Speaking of animals, the boys were at the hostel late night. Good fun. They were drinking Bacardi Raspberry though. Wusses, right?

Ports and things

Beautiful. Glorious. Wonderful day. I woke up and went for some exercise. Got back, had breakfast, then played soccer on the beach. Relaxed on the beach for several hours and then chucked rocks with a dog. The same one who sat on me last time I was here. I taught him ¨drop it!¨ too which was kind of fun. I think my arm's gonna be sore tomorrow but I loved every minute of it. I'm learning that I like sharing. I don't buy anything anymore--except clothes--that I won't share. Food, shampoo, sunblock, wine, shoes even. Yep. That sums up my purchases for the last 4 months.

Then I walked the streets with the man I could marry. We went to the port and there were seals! They look like walruses only without the tusks. Then we went to two museums, one a nautical about a battle between Chilé and Perú. The battle of the Esmeralda. It was a wooden fighter destroyed by a Perúvian battleship but held out for almost 4 hours and never surrended its flag. And a regional museum with seal fetuses, llama bones, Chiléan coins, weavings. The money here is colorful. Fine, the bills are full of colors most places, but the coins. They have color here. The 100 cent piece is red, just being phased out this year for a silver and gold one. Oh, and a funny thing about Chilé, they pronounce Chilé as Tilé here. How you say it is supposed to reflect your social status. If you're educated you say Tilé. If not, it's apparently Shilé...

Then I got a message that Alejandro (my Colombian friend from Baños) got detained in Quito. Crap. A 36 year-old man, he can't seem to get it together. Then again he never had a decent example. Still it's hard to understand. I kept telling him to figure out what he wanted to do in life, come up with a plan. The same advice I need to be heeding! Well, I have a plan, it's just in the infancy stages of implementation...Anyway he's living in a country where he can't work without permission, doesn't have permission, and every three months makes the border crossing into Colombia, obtains a fake (Colombians are good at doing the bad things...) 3 month pass and returns to Ecuador to work illegally. What kind of life is that? I know, who am I to judge? I guess it just seems like there has to be some sort of easier way to make a living. And maybe even in Colombia??

So, I would love to buy a place in Lima, and one in Iquique. I need to check into fares for flights to see the likelihood of renting them States-side. Also need to drum up a quick $300,000 in liquidatable cash. Hmm...

Life's a beach

Headed back to Iquique today. It just doesn't seem right not to do what I want while on vacation. I know, Mom, I know. When have I ever done anything I didn't want to do?!? And what I want right now is the beach. It's so cold, the desert. And cold showers in the cold? Just can't hack it. I have to get back to the coast! Plus, great people!

Yay! I made it!

Before:

















After:

















Which Anne looks happier?

Stripes

Ok, lots to tell! This morning the owner of the hotel walked in on me in my undies and socks. He's hard of hearing too, so it took a while for him to get it. I think once he got a glimpse of my striped undies, it registered. Also! I forgot to mention La Bruja de Iquique. This crazy older lady walked up to us on the beach, read our palms and then told us our fortunes. She took some money from me (let's not discuss how much, exactly, but just know it was a lot) and destroyed it with some sort of liquid from her breast and a bone she pulled out of her bag. I had to throw a piece of it into the ocean as an offering to the goddess of the sea. And as much as I didn't want to touch it, I conceded. She gave me a seed to keep in my wallet and wrapped it up in a bill. Apparently, I'll always have money as long as I have this seed. Maybe it'll grow into a money tree! She kept asking if I had confidence in her, which, of course, I didn't, but now it just seems like it's better to believe than not.

I met up with Tom from Cusco on the tour to La Valle de La Luna this afternoon. I also ran into Tomas and Solenne, the two fun French folks I met on the Cañon del Colca trip.

The Valley of the Moon is called that because, well, it looks like the moon. There are strange white mounds of earth that looks like mountains from the moon. There are pockets of salt that look like ice. Sand and red clay. It's extra-terrestrial. And there's a section where the earth is striped and looks like Mars. Cool, weird rock formations and a cave. Tom and I went down into the cave and it was made of salt. This time I licked the wall. We hiked up into the dunes and watched the sunset. It was pretty amazing. The sun dips over the mountain and then the valley comes alive in colors.

Oh, and parties here are all called clandestino. The bars close at 1 am and then everyone makes his way to the hidden party. A house in the middle of nowhere with live music, bonfires, dancing, drinking. The town published some sort of law outlawing drinking and dancing after 2 am. It's funny. The parties aren't all that clandestine. There's one taxi driver who carts everyone to the party. All the cops woud have to do is follow him to figure out where the party is. Guess it's just out of sight out of mind. Still they call them clandestine and there's a big mystery about it. San Pedro's population isn't quite 5000, so in reality, there aren't that many spots the police would have to search.

Springtime

Today I visited the Museo Archeologial de Gustavo Le Paige in San Pedro de Atacama. It chronicles the ancient customs of Atacameñans, the techniques they used for farming, their celebrations, their uses for natural resources. From gold, stone, wood, ceramics. And then there's a tiny bit on post-colonization. Again, an interesting blend of antiquity, indigenous peoples, colonization and modern times.

The dogs are all in heat here. This one poor girl dog has been barking all day at a German Shephard who she's apparently not interested in, and yet he persists. Interesting, given that it's winter. No spring fever here, I guess. Or maybe it's always spring here in Chilé...hee, hee!

San Pedro

So today, I left at the crack of dawn, headed to San Pedro de Atacama. About eight hours southeast from Iquiquye, it's the salt flats. The driest place in the world. There are regions here that have never recorded measurable rainfall. Flamingos, oases (is that the plural of oasis?), wild outer space terrain. I'm excited. We'll see.

Here's the local church. Didn't go in yet. Again, we'll see.

All things Chiléan

I saw a man mowing the lawn today. The sound, the smell, it took me back to good ole Atlanta, GA. The summers so humid you can see the water in the air. And the thunderstorms in July. What a wonderful place to grow up. I haven't seen a lawnmower in, well, I don't know how long. There aren't too many of those in the city.

The men in Chilé are expressive. They whistle, speak to any attractive woman. Well, maybe it's any woman. I walked past a Chiléan surfer chick today. They were whistling. She smiled and gave them a peace sign. What a good attitude. I usually just ignore them, but not anymore. And Chiléan kids are like NYC kids. Too cool for school. Cool hair cuts, cool clothes. It's a trip.

Chilé is more expensive than other places I've been but it's not insane like New York. And the quality of what you get seems to be pretty solid. Whereas in Colombia I felt like I paid more for less sometimes, here you pay more for more. Prices justifiable. Or somehow reasonable.

So, people. I think I may have met a man I could marry in life. Granted, I didn't, but how cool! Adventurous, light-hearted, attractive, spirited. As much as I may be a risktaker, this isn't one I'll risk. I'm just too immature (even still!) to be married, but what a fun thought, no? Before I left, everyone, from people on the bus to my closest of friends, warned me, ¨Be careful. You may just find yourself married and pregnant.¨ AH! Get me out of here! STAT!

Surf's up

Some days I feel like I'm watching life go by. People walking, working, watching. Observing others in their lives while I remain a stranger. An outsider. Someone and yet no one. Sometimes I wonder if I'm crazy, too. But then again, it seems like if the thought occurs to you, you can't be crazy. It's only when there is no question that you're nuts, right?

So there's a dog sitting on me. Ah, he just left. But for about ten minutes we rallied. He came up with a rock, dropped it in the sand and proceeded to bury it, kicking the sand all over me. Talk about an introduction, right? And then he sat on me, made himself quite comfortable. I like Iquique. But then again, I really needed some sun. And the beach. And the heat. It stills get chilly here at night, but nothing like La Paz, Puno, Cusco. And there's an international surf competition this weekend. Maybe I'll learn a little Spanish surfer slang. Wicked! Surfing is the last frontier for me, the only fear I'm holding on to is that of the ocean. Just can seem to wipe the slate clean from almost drowning in Hawaii at 15. Guess that one will have to wait.

Yahoo! Just got to page August 2nd. It's my birthday! It's my birthday!

Second flight

Guess who went paragliding today, doo dah, doo dah! Guess who went paragliding today, oh, doo dah day!! OLÉ! This one was double the time as the first one and even more freeing. I just love flying. Next is skydiving. They apparently have it in Santiago. SCORE!

Oh yeah, and there are loads of turkey vultures here and in Arica. What a weird combo, the turkey and the vulture. Could you come up with a worse combination of birds? They look a lot like hawks in the sky but do that whole instinctual circling thing. And here's a shot of Iquique and our landing strip. Right past the highway, we dropped down right onto the beach. I fell on the landing but oh well.

Those moments

Iquique-bound, I'm in the terminal in Arica. My cabdriver this morning was a woman. In Ecuador & Colombia, most of the women I met didn't know how to drive, much less drove taxis. Even in NYC, it's a rare thing. Seems like Chilé is pretty balanced with respect to women's rights. But with a woman as president, I guess anything goes. It's so weird, the bus I'm on smells like disinfectant. And it's clean! And the seats are really wide. You have to twist and swivel past the seats in the aisle. I've grown so accustomed to buses that smell like food, earth, dust, body odor, that this is strange...almost uncomfortable! HA! They say Chilé is the second most expensive country in South America, so this will probably be a better transition back to the US.

I wonder how many miles I've traveled this trip. It would be cool to map out no? Let's see if I can find something. Geez, Google, what's that about?!?

I think I was two years old the first I can remember my Dad changing my diapers. My folks always scooted me over to the hearth, them sitting on the bricks, my tush up against the end, legs flailing. And I remember being at my grandmother's house in the bathroom, the same one she died in, putting on a diaper I'd found under the sink. Only I was way too old to be wearing diapers. Maybe 5? My grandmother's bathroom door only closed if you squeezed the lock into place. Then the lock would function. If you didn't push the door all the way, you found yourself bare-assed trying to squeeze into a diaper at an age way too old for a diaper. I guess I just wanted to go back to being on my Dad's shoulders, go back to smelling like a baby, go back to falling asleep on my Mom's lap.

My father used to eat apples with a small knife. A paring knife, I think, it would have probably been used for other purposes had the tip not been broken off. As it was, the only purpose it served was for my Dad to slice up apples. He'd circle the core, rotating the apple with his left hand, eating the slices directly off the knife with his right. He shared, too, with any of us that asked. You could grow up without nice things, without carpet on the floors, no kitchen, whatever it may be, but it seems like if you have those moments of tenderness and care, you're going to be alright.

Caramela

The sun made it out today. Yes! My plan may work just yet! I might just be able to return to New York in a whole new personality...Caramela!! So today, I rented a bike from the hotel and hit the beach. I love dressing up, getting all sassy and going out for a nice dinner, dancing, whatever, but there's some part of me that will always love finding bike grease on the back of my leg. Or the chain print on my pants. As much as I may dress me up in frills and lace (I know, I know...it's certainly been a while), I'll never be able to escape having grown up with two big brothers. Not that I'd ever want to. How lucky.

I'm on Tuto Beach, soaking in the rays. I've had a cold since Puno and have been taking my malaria pills for it. They're also an antibiotic, with the side effect of extreme sensitivity to the sun. Hope I don't burn! There are currently 5 people on the beach to my left and 3 to my right, one bathing nude. Arica is mellow right now. It's winter here in Chilé, the crowds expected in July & August.

People here look at you, well, me anyway, but don't speak unless you speak first. Last night an older gentleman in a three-piece suit and hat was checking me out, so I spoke. He responded almost unaware that he'd been staring. Last night as well, I had another not so lonely Lonely Planet moment. I ran into Maria & Ivan, fellow New Yorkers (well, Ivan lives in New Jersey, but whatever), both of whom I met on the Cañon del Colca trip. They walked into the same pizza shop where I was having dinner. Small, small world. Scary, small sometimes. All in all, good. More good States folks. Well, Maria's actually Russian. Guess there are good people all over the world from all over the world. You've just got to keep your eyes and mind open. And be in the present moment to be sure you're able to recognize and receive them (thank you, Nathan). Normal pre-judgment cast off while traveling, I hope it stays with me when I get back.

Tan Anne?

It's just after 9 am here and it's overcast!!! I'm really hoping that my beach plan to return to NYC tan isn't ruined. Let's check flights to hmmm...Jamaica!!!

Do Re Mi

Hotel Milton is like my grandmother's old house, only stuck more in the 70s, rather than the mix of generations hers had become. Mirrors, vinyl sofas, tvs with control knobs that you actually have to get up and turn--total number of channels, 13. The parquet flooring is set on a diagonal...groovy! So at first I wasn't sure I wanted to stay there but I'm so glad I did. I met two quirky, fun Americans. I know! Who knew there were more of us in South America?!? Alter´Nathan (haven't asked about the name yet...just go with it, people) and Carlos. Talk about good people. One lives in San Fran, the other in LA, but for the past 4 months in Cochabamba, Bolivia. In two days time, we'd covered everything from personal histories, marriage and children to Celine Dion hatred, the correct consistency for falafel and KARAOKE!! Yes, we sang karaoke last night. Haven't sung for months now, aside from the shower, and I was nervous...and rusty. Nathan rocked out to Elvis' Teddy Bear, getting some scary looks from a certain Bolivian a few sofas away. We sang until about 2 am. Carlos kicked on to other clubs but Nathan & I ducked out early. I planned on traveling today.

And my travel plans were almost foiled. Almost. I woke up at 10 of 7 and, at the elevator, literally ran into the gentleman whom I had asked for a 6 am wake-up call. Not so good. My bus was slated for a 7 am departure. LATE. They say that how you react to crises and difficult situations proves who you are as a person. In that case, this morning makes me a pushy, bad-breathed, pain in the ass. Panicked but not afraid to give an order, I had the owner of the hotel on the phone with the bus company, the worker who forgot my wake-up call hailing a cab, and me, well, I was just supervising. Who do I think I am? But get this...the bus company actually waited for me! I guess being on South American time does have its advantages from time to time. I was bummed though. I really wanted to get some shots of the hotel! One wall has a photo mural of a mountain sunset with a meadow of flowers. Believe it!

The border crossing out of Bolivia is a mess. Tons of mack trucks, nothing but dust, no signs. And you drive 20 minutes after getting the Bolivian exit stamp to the Chiléan border. Confused, I followed the crowd & ended up at the Bolivian documents building down the hill. You're just supposed to get the stamp and wait for the bus. Organized, official, formal, complete with drug dogs, the Chiléan border is all about business. There are very specific about the goods you can transport across the border. No honey, animals--including pets, no seeds, fruits, meats. I was sure my peanut butter was going to get confiscated but no. All the bags pass through a scanner and get sniffed by the dogs. It almost felt like Laguardia. And everyone who worked in the office was taller than me. Hmm. Interesting.

So I made it to Arica, Chilé this afternoon. The fifth, but hopefully not the last, country in this crazy adventure. Can't wait to see what's in store. The hotel owner of Jardin del Sol is charming. He explained the whole town to me, including activities, in a matter of minutes. My cabdriver from the terminal recommended I stay at another hotel...but then again, he gets a commission on anyone he brings in. Hold your horses, bud. If you're not paying attention, or don't speak decent Spanish, you can find yourself in the middle of who knows where Chilé, which all things considered doesn't look to be bad at all...

Oh, and I forgot to mention Poggibonsi!! Tony, don't know if you ever look at this, but if you do, you have to remind me to tell you the latest in the Poggibonsi saga!

The Peace, Bolivia

Willie Nelson's on the sound system doing Janis Joplin's Bobby McGee, good stuff. I love it. And there's more. It must be a whole CD. Thanks, Willie. You're the greatest!

So, La Paz. Walking out of the hotel today, there was a market at the front doorstep. And it stretched through what seemed like miles of the city's hills. Cereals, only sweet ones, pharmacy items, strange potatoes, nuts, flowers, meets, fish, you name it. What fun to walk right into the thick of it. I scoped out a lot of the city today. Two cathedrals, San Francisco and another, not sure the name. In the second, I walked in just as a funeral ended. The family exiting through one door, the line of people to pay respects filed through the other. I also witnessed a funeral procession just outside of Copacabana. The women wore black bowler caps & shrouds. The man all black, too. At first I was confused, usually everyone is so brightly dressed. Then we climbed past the cemetery and I understood.

Past the main government plaza today, I seemed to be the only tourist on the streets. But then I caught some others taking photos of the guards outside of some official building. Once they finished with their shots, the guards exchanged a few words. I just couldn't bring myself to take a photo. Next to the witch market, honestly, I got a little bit scared that the woman of the house was going to put a curse on me. Ascending into her shop, there were dried whole ostriches--apparently for protection of the house--elixirs and powders of all sorts. Some to ward off the devil, others for love. Essential oils, herbal remedies for obesity. A topiarist's dream come true toward the back, foxes, mountain cats, condors, all not necessarily stuffed but dried out at least. She kept telling me, ¨Compra me...¨ and it made me a little nervous. I've never been much of a voodoo doll, spell-casting, wearing-a-vial-of-my-husband's-blood-around-my-neck type. Again näive, I've never really liked mixing with the dark side. Helping others out of it or wallow in it, depending on their preferences, but the dark side of things has never grabbed me nor I it. The woman was dressed in the traditional long bustling skirt with a checkered gown on the outside, 2 braids down her back. And she had gold teeth, but not complete covers. The centers were cut out in the shape of hearts. And she chewed gum. Again, a blend of tradition and modernization. I only had big bills early in the day, but just in case, went back later just to buy from her. I wasn't sure if I went back to buy from her to prevent her from casting a spell on me or because she'd already cast a spell on me and it worked. Whether under a spell, or just in typical Anne fashion, I shopped too much today. But I didn't buy a single pair of shoes, thank you.

God, Presidents and Art

I forgot to mention Jorge from yesterday. He sat next to me on the bus from San Pedro to La Paz. A 12 year-old kid (13 on the 26th of this month), he lives in the Bolivian country-side. Headed to La Paz, he talked about how much happier the life in the country is. No one robs you, no one lies (apparently); he likes it. He's a 7th Day Adventist as well, which sparked a rather grown-up conversation between the two of us. Evolution. Jorge doesn't believe it's possible that we descended from monkeys. He said it's a lie. The Bible says that God created man...yes, I conceded, but the Bible has been rewritten over and over throughout the years. The only one who knows for sure what happened is God, no? He concurred. We discussed women's rights and women in politics. From what he said Bolivia had a female president in the 80s (Lidia Gueiler Tejada, 1980...NICE, Jorge!). He also had the impression that the majority of US presidents were of the family Bush. Truth be told, I didn't even know what number we're on. I said it was only the 2 out of 44 (just looked it up, we're on number 43. Go 'head, Anne!).

Oh yeah! A little girl selling finger puppets at midnight in the Plaza de Armas in Cusco rattled off all the US presidents in chronological order. Quite a feat on its own, but to put her to the test, I callled out a year and she had to name the president. She got them all right, at least the ones I knew for sure were correct. I encouraged her to keep studying and to stop selling finger puppets. It's humbling and unbelievable. What is it with the US? Are we doing all we can to dominate the world? The woman who showed me to my hotel room yesterday wants to go the US to work but can't because she doesn't speak enough English. I feel like I live in the land of opportunities, yes, where anything is possible. And I guess I believe in the American dream myself, so maybe it's understandable that people from other places get a glimpse of it, too, and hope to live their dreams. It's just weird. I've never heard a school girl recite the British monarchs...

Today I needed some art. I've been looking at folk art mostly, handicrafts, weavings, knitting, and it's beautiful but today I needed something more tangible, like a movement, or a revolution or something, so I wandered into the Bolvian National Musuem of Art. It displays such an unusual mix of indigenous culture celebrating Pachamama (Mother Earth), Spanish colonization celebrating Catholicism and contemporary works celebrating anything and everything. The museum is set up with the ground floor exhibiting the early period linked to the blessings of the land, the next wrapped up in religion, and on the last, well, anything goes. What are seemingly such separate worlds, the people are able to blend, ancestral, indigenous beliefs, the Catholic religion and modern times. There were two items that moved me the most. One was art on feathers. Twenty spindles of feathers wrapped tightly together, the artist painted a picture on the spindles, the feathers the canvas. It was beautiful and like nothing I'd ever seen. The second piece of art glowed. Juan Risma, Fiesta Altiplanica, 1945. Luminary. Didn't pull an ¨Oh, no photos allowed? Whoops!¨ like I did with the David in Florence...

Bolivia, Bolivia, Bolivia the tattooed lady...

Yesterday a Slovakian man (or is it Slovanian??) gave me a brand new memory card. How nice, yeah? He said that while the Czech Republic had been a big place for tourists, Slovakia is now edging it and Prague out, just starting to see a boom. Anyone interested in visiting? Let me know!

As much as donkeys aren't my favorite animals in the world per se, I'm going to miss seeing them on the side of the road, walking up mountains, hell, in the middle of the road. And llamas. They're graceful somehow.

Crossed into Bolivia today. Cool, right?!? We cruised into Copacabana
for a couple of hours (yes, I was singing the song the whole time) and now are headed to La Paz, the capital of Bolivia. On the bus, I overheard a man from Holland and a man from Switzerland joking about people from the US. Apparently, all we know about Holland is that they walk around in wooden shoes & smoke weed. And the Swiss have great bank accounts, chocolates and watches. I've spoken with both men on separate occasions in Spanish. Both had to ask me where I'm from because they couldn't tell. And to think how many Swiss I've met whom I've just adored! And one girl from Holland anyway Miriam. Funny how a Perúvian who has that impression of their countries isn't mocked...just us...it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. With the Holland guy, we talked about his kids, how his girlfriend left him 2 years back and how they now share time with the kids 50 50. He's single & traveling because of it. And I thought it was a genuine exchange between strangers. Naïve. I'm naïve and hope to remain that way. I wish they'd chosen seats farther back. And I didn't have any preconceived notions about the Dutch, ok, aside from bicycling and irrigational smarts. Until now. Oh, whatever. People are people. Mind you, they're speaking in English. That's why I could understand them. For all their mocking of the us, they're speaking in English. Not Dutch, German, French. Ironic?

Lake Titicaca

HA! It's just funny to write, say, think about. Hee, hee!

Anyway, at 3810 meters above sea level, Lake Titicaca is the highest navigable lake in the world. The deepest point is 284 meters. The lake is shared by Perú and Bolivia, Perúvians saying it's 60% Perúvian, Bolivians claiming it's 63% Bolivian. Always a border dispute here!

On a boat out of the harbor, reeds grow out of sediment in the water, sort of swamp-like. We visited Las Islas Flotantes first, the floating islands. And it's no joke. The Uros people tie pieces of earth that the reeds grow out of together, cut the reeds off and lay them flat on top of the earth. The reeds decompose repidly so a new layer is put down every 15 days. We went to two islands and it's wild. You step onto the ground and it moves. Kind of like a moonwalk, only crunchy. The sections are anchored together with sticks and ropes. And in the event that you marry, or just decide to move to another community, you simply pull out the anchors that grounded you and float to the island of your choice. The first island was home to 7 families, grandparents, uncles, children. No pets. Just birds, reeds, water and handicrafts. They eat the reeds as well, peeling the root like a banana. It's crisp like celery just a little softer, green on the outside, white on the inside. I thought of Venice, only it's a tad bit more rudimentary. Incredible. They live a simple life, no electricity, cooking over fires. Solar panels were donated to the people by Yurimoto years back so that the islands would be opened up to tourists. I worry, though, that the people don't see half the money agencies collect to run the tours to the islands.

Next onto la Isla Taquile, it's an island of Quechua, the same who inhabited Machu Picchu and are still prominent in Perú. They took on Castellano attire once the Spanish invaded and live in a paradise on a mountain island in the middle of the lake. A vegetarian culture, the average life expectancy is 80 years. The men knit, the women weave, and all in brilliant colors. If you don't know how to knit perfectly as a man, you can't marry.

The people of both islands openly admit that they live off of tourism. The sale of their handmade goods support the communities. There must have been at least 50 tourists there today in the time that I visited. Hopefully, all contributed in some way.

I ate lunch with 4 Italians and 2 Costa Ricans. I was the only American. Hmm.

Mercans

I think one of the smartest things I could have done while traveling in South America was to wear one of the sparkly cross earrings Tony bought in Rome two years back. Given that most of the population is Catholic here, and serious about it, just feels like it's some sort of protective omen. Thanks, Tones. Knock wood.

So, Puno. It's frickin cold here. During the day it looks pretty rough but at night it's fun. Boutique-like. I'm having kingfish, caught in the nearby Lake Titicaca (yes, I'm serious...that's the name of the lake), for dinner with mashed potatoes and vegetables. Just need hearty stuff when it's chilly, right? The music here sounds like it's from the 70s, a Vegas lounge act. Perúvian nationalist Vegas lounge music. Score! I'm never leaving! Hey, maybe they'll even hire me! And I can actually pronounce the words, not that anyone will care, or even notice...

It's nice traveling alone in South America, you can do what you want, meet who you want. The only problem is when I run into other English speakers--well North Americans, anyway. Wait. We've decided it's ok to call people from the US Americans, right? Just as long as you don't drop the A and I and say ¨Mercans¨ like GW. Does he still do that? Honestly, I just heard that Britney Spears shaved her head. How out of touch am I, thank the lord!?! Anyway, looks like I'm the one who receives people from other countries better than those from my own--except New Yorkers...and Southerners. They're always well-received, at least outside of the US for sure. Oh, well. I guess it's just because there's no challenge. I can understand everything without any effort. Maybe it's just too easy? Oh, but it is a laugh to hear us speak Spanish, myself excluded. My Spanish is kickin lately!!

A touch of rain

It rained yesterday in Aguas Calientes and this morning in Cusco. It's nice to see some rain from time to time. I'm on my way to Puno now, on the bus. I'm happy to be moving on. I have 15 days left, if I don't change it, so I gotta make it worthwhile. This morning I was thinking back on the places I've been and the things I've seen. What a gift.

Holy Machu Picchu

I woke up before dawn to catch the bus up into the mountains. Machu Picchu. My group entered with our guide Miguel, the sun not yet having risen into the mountains, the moon still visible in the blue. As the sun crested over the peaks and into Machu Picchu, the once bustling city came alive. The mist covering the mountains clearing, shadows cast through the windows of houses, magical.

Machu Picchu remains a mystery in part to us even at present day. When Pisarro invaded Perú, the inhabitants evacuated Machu Picchu so that the Spanish would never find it. And it worked. A US professor uncovered the lost city only in the 1920s. While those in the area knew of its history, it remained unknown to the rest of the world. Thus even still, the names of buildings, the significance of certain parts of the city remain a mystery.

While most of us know of Machu Picchu as the lost city of the Incas, the Incas did not reside at Machu Picchu full-time. On special occasions they visited and stayed in a part of the village designated for royalty, separate from the day-to-day population. A once self-sufficient village, 700 of the Quechua people lived on, ate from and farmed the land. They believed that anything necessary in life came from the earth and was sacred. They were, therefore, mostly a vegetarian culture, sacrificing one llama a year to the gods. Just as the Quechua viewed the earth as sacred, so too did the village live and breathe. They built structures for living, for study, to bury the dead, for monitoring the stars, planets, seasons, to plant crops and medicinal plants. Parts of the story of the village are only speculated about by archaelogists and scientists. They marvel at the construction of the buildings, all built on small foundations with interlocking rocks. In the event of an earthquake, the structures roll across the earth in unison, rather than splitting and severing. The Quechua still inhabit a large part of Perú, still speaking Quechua as well. The language is onomatopaeic, the words based upon the sound associated with an object, idea or action. The word for chicha, for example, the fermented corn elixir, is aah in Quechua because when seomeone drinks it, that's the response it invokes...aaah. It makes me wonder if any words in English make that kind of sense.

At the end of the guided tour, I chewed coca leaves. They are used to produce cocaine & are actually in Coca Cola too. From what the guide said, they aren't addictive. It seems to be viewed more like chewing tobacco without the nicotine. The people have chewed it for energy for centuries, and hey, climbing up all those stairs, not to mention mountains, you'd need it. I hiked up to Waynapicchu with a mouthful myself. It's the peak you see in most of the photos of Machu Picchu (and at right), the mountain actually named Machu Picchu to the back of the city, not as frequently photographed. The climb is uphill and steep, holding onto a rope for a lot of it. I had to crawl through a cave to get to the summit. How worth it. You just feel high, not only up in the mountains, but also on life. There is a story of a Japanese couple who made the climb years ago, only the woman fell to her death. They say that he husband returns every year with flowers on the anniversary of her death. Some of the people say the flowers are to mourn her loss. Others say he is thanking the Incas for freeing him from her. A romantic, I prefer the former. I almost fell myself climbing down Waynapicchu. You can just feel it. The energy. The power. The electricity.

I just love trains!

Off to Machu Picchu this morning on the 7 am train. Yahoo! I go to Aguas Calientes for the day, then to Machu Picchu early tomorrow morning. I'm excited! Here's what I have with me: a bathing suit, toothbrush & paste, my camera and journal. Feels good. The train out of Cuzco to Machu Picchu heads in one direction, only to backtrack in reverse, then head forward again. In order to climb into the mountains, they had to lay track in switchbacks. The train follows that pattern four times over, the first hour spent in zigzags, then cuts a straight path through the mountains. Traveling by train is a welcome relief, reminiscent of Italy.

The train was also full of chatting. I met a family of 3 Chileans who gave me their contact info for when I'm in Santiago. We all talked with 2 Perúvians as well living in Lima. The guy from Lima has 2 passports, 1 Perúvian, 1 Italian. He said that when visiting the US with the Italian passport, no questions asked. With the Peruvian one, on the other hand, two hours later after a barrage of questions, he's granted access. The perception being why would an Italian leave Italy for the US? Meanwhile, why wouldn't a Perúvian leave Perú? About Italy, agreed. About Perú, not sure it's that simple. The Chileans were upper middle class. I have to say, I haven't met that many wealthy South Americans. They just don't usually stay or work in backpackers hostels. I've met maids, security guards, bartenders, mechanics, but not too many business men whose wives are lawyers. He asked me what my family does too. Funny. A mechanic asks how much I make in a month but doesn't care what my dad does. A maid asks where my husband and kids are. Hee, hee! I guess we all have an agenda.

It's easy to see why anyone would have wanted to settle in this part of the world. Aguas Calientes is beautiful to the eye but even more so to the ear. The river isn't huge but is powerful, falling from the mountains over tons of rocks. It sounds great. I'm happy to be out of Cuzco. I liked it fine but am learning that, for me, it's important to be near water. An island, fine! On a river or the ocean, no matter, I just have to be near some body of water. Oh and there has to be sun too! Those two things and I'm happy. It's nice how simple things become when traveling. I don't need room service, sure, I'll take it from time to time, but I don't need it. Today at the hostel an older Australian woman and I were shown a selection of rooms, one with a full bed, the others with 2 twin beds. I wanted the full, to stretch out, but was more than happy to let her have it and said so. Turned out the big bed was too soft for her..she said she has 2 broken ribs and needs a hard bed...random. How's she gonna handle Machu Picchu, the altitude, the walking, with broken ribs?? Hmm. The full room was number 22, so seems like it was supposed to be for me anyway. In the end, though, what does it matter? No worries. I'll sleep on a hammock, the floor, the bus if a must. On a plane, on the train!

Feelings

This kid named Josh Vandall used to make fun of me in high school because I always had ¨feelings.¨ He used it as an adjective: ¨You´re not gonna get all feelings on me are you, Anne?¨ And while it was annoying, it also made me laugh because when he actually did need to express something, or heaven forbid cry, it was to me.

And who knows who's keeping up with this blog...thanks to those who do make comments...it's really nice. But for all of you, I just want to be sure that you know I love you. I love you, Mom. I love you, Dad. I love you, Gray. I love you, David. And, Rebecca, I love you, sister! And, Tony, I love you, too. And, Lynn, you're in there. Love you, my fellow Georgia Peach. And Julie, I love you too, girl! And Miss Clarice. And all the folks at Good Enough to Eat, I love you!! (quick plug: www.goodenoughtoeat.com) And my BVN peeps, you know who you are, love you. And Brendan, still love you, too. And Ruth, you, too! Miss ya! And the whole family. Nana, Grandaddy, Harry & Edna, all of you. It's just important that you know. Andrew, the Australian who lost his parents last year, encouraged me to let any and all of the people I love know that I love them. And in honor of his loss, it just seems like the right thing to do. So like it or not, you're stuck with me and the love I'm sending. Happy Sunday.

Thanking my lucky stars

Ok, got it booked. Am not doing the entire Inca Trail, have to book that months in advance, but I will be in the Sacred Valley on Monday and Machu Picchu on Tuesday. Phew. Rock 'n roll! Thanks to all of you who wished on a star for this crazy gal!

A bargainer I'm not.

I showed up at the Centro Commercial, the huge Cusco market, early, before 8 am opening hour. There's a family of 5 setting up their tiny kiosk. Mom, Dad, older sister, brother, baby girl sweeping. And to think the goods we all bargain for feed those mouths. I'm not that fond of bargaining. Sometimes I just feel like I'm ripping people off, handmade goods and all. It's hard to get used to, paying half the original, quoted price. It's just weird.

After the market, I ran into 2 Spaniards I met in the convent back in Arequipa. They've run into some negative attitudes here, as have I lately. Not many but still. It's understood, we're tourists with money to burn, but the power of selection can be difficult. Everyone wants you to buy and it's linked to luck and blessings. Today every time I bought something, the vendor said a blessing. As though my purchase were sent from God. Scary. So you do your best to chat with people at least a bit so that they know you're human, not a walking wallet. And, too, I like to know what their lives are like, if only to share for a few moments. So I bought from the family I watched set up earlier in the morning.

I can feel the time coming to a close. Only a few more weeks left of this trip, I'm not sure I'm ready to go back to the States. I have no credit card debt, so that's good. One of my best friends is taking care of the apartment, so that's good. I still have money, so that's good. Now for the bad stuff...wait...there isn't any!! Nice!

Quick note, Mom: I'm on day June 16th in my journal and just wanted to say thanks! It's turned out to be such a wonderful gift. Hope you guys are great in Singapore. Love you!