en route to Lima

Also can be viewed at www.Karikuy.org/blog

I have been backpacking for almost a month now and enjoying the hell out of it. I am making my way to Lima for the Karikuy volunteer program, rather quickly as I have already postponed my arrival date twice. I spent my last couple days in Argentina in the quiet mountain town of Purmamarca, a tiny village set in the montañas coloradas in the northern state of Jujuy. The sun hits these brazen peaks and reflects rich purples, pungent oranges, rusty reds and chilly greens; the colors clash and topple upon one another and I click hundreds of photos in hopes to do it all justice.

The bus to northern Chile leaves only three times a week, and I wait for it early Sunday morning in the biting cold next to a barren highway. At least I am not alone; A German couple puts their backpacks along side mine, and we share our appreciation for the colorful surroundings, our dislike of the temperature, and a mutual gratitude that the other being there confirms we are in the right place to pick up the bus. Besides the roosters awakening, it is quiet. I breathed in this peaceful scene knowing that the next couple days would be spent inside a cramped bus, crossing geographical extremes, eating forgettable sandwiches and attempting to get some sleep.

Here I am at the Chilean/Peruvian Border. It is 6am local time and my taxi parks in line behind a dozen others. The offices are not open yet, so we wait. The border seems a desert wasteland, temperate but dry and unyielding. I try to remember if I brushed my teeth last night; it sure doesn’t feel like it. The hours pass over me in my blurry state. I share a four door sedan with four ladies and a restless baby, and an overweight driver who is itching to get us through. The actual crossing seems hazy at best, lots of filling out of documents and stamping of passports, an x-ray machine, the careless lifting and dropping of luggage. Someone offered me an Oreo and I didn’t even hesitate to shove it in my mouth. I am quite hungry, thirsty and really never thought I’d be this anxious to jump on another bus so that maybe I could catch some shuteye.

***

The bus for Lima leaves at 2pm, “No later,” the ticket lady warned.
“No problem,” I responded, as I knew any more than six hours in a bus station may end in the ultimate breaking of my fragile state. I found breakfast: Fried unidentified fish with a potato and rice, and a cup of watery Nescafé. I am either going to have to give up the coffee addiction or get used to powdered instant for the next month, and who am I to be a snob? The meal left me unsatisfied and hungry, so I left the station to find chocolate.

Finally en route to Lima! My bus company is Excluciva (talk about feeling like a snob) and I am elated: The seats are overstuffed leather Lazyboys that recline to beds, the meals are hot and rather delicious, and the movies are non-stop. After the third flick, I doze off to a wonderful slumber knowing that when I awake, I will finally be there.

2am: We are stopped. There is a commotion in the bus. People seem upset and voices are raised. My brain is too tired to translate what is going on, and I fall back asleep.

6am: We are still stopped and the sun is rising. Yet more commotion and some seats are empty. I exited the bus only to notice we were drowning in a sea of more buses, trucks, tankers and autos. There are people everywhere, many of them on cell phones, and no one looks happy.

The collective word is that the road is blocked due to a miner’s strike. A law just passed exempting artisan miners from selling their products, and in protest they blocked the roads with stones and fires. The police were handling it, but estimated 72 hours until we could hit the road again. Three days?!? No puede ser.

I found the bathroom, which was flooding with brown water and smelled like a barn. Instead I set off to look for a phone to tell Karikuy of my *predicament*. Five blocks down I found a phone outside a hotel who let me use their clean, stocked bathroom. It’s times like these that makes one realize their true creature comforts. I ran into an English couple on my way back and we decided to find some food. All this killed a mere 2 hours…70 to go.

Over that day I watched two more movies, napped, chatted with busmates, ate street meat, and joined the cheers and jeers when the roads were finally cleared at 5pm. All in all it wasn’t so bad; I caught up on eight movies I haven’t seen, made some Peruvian friends, ate the local fare (hopefully not in regret), and in Lima I was picked up by Julio and Josh of Karikuy, and taken back to my new home-away-from-home just in time for bed… 63 hours later.

True Love

It seems there is not a soul for a million miles. We are the modern nomad, fueled by petrol and fiber cookies. The sheer magnitude of this space that I glide over makes me feel small, yet not insignificant. For why else would all this exist if nothing was here to appreciate it? We are the conscience of the world, after all...

O the wonder! To see the Earth´s formation at its purest. Gaze on the fine sands molded by the wind and rain and time. To imagine the millenia of work it took to create these incredible peaks! It´s as if time is shown in its parts, the evolution of a mountain at its rawest. From the soft rolling dunes to the abrupt and flat faced gorges to the jagged and lightly frosted peaks of the Andes. You can see where the water flows and the intricate design it makes on the grandest canvass of all. Nothing could be more perfect than this land. I know we are meant to exist here and now for we appreciate, somewhere deep inside, the magnificence of it all; of the things we could not fathom create, or even recreate, for pictures do it no justice.

THIS is love.

What I learned in Argentina

- All sandwiches come with some form of meat and a fried egg. Man that´s addicting.

-Maté drinking is truly an art form. You can determine where a person is from and whether they like you or not by the way they take their maté.

-It is common to drink anything in a bottle with a straw. This includes water.

-Northern Argentina is a hidden gem of the world. I´d like to spend a good year here, with a car.

-Salta may have the best ice cream in the universe. Okay second to Italian gelato.

-It is not possible to see Buenos Aires in a couple days.

-It is not possible to walk Buenos Aires.

-Don´t ever expect to eat salad.

-Lines on the roads are just suggestions.

-Pedestrians do NOT have the right away.

-Tip the bag man.

-Wine is cheap and really good.

-Even if you speak spanish, you don´t necessarily speak Argentinian spanish.

-Couchsurfing is everywhere!

Mmmmmendoza

If you have ever done a wine tour in Napa, or always wanted to but couldn´t afford it, I´ve got the place for you. Medoza, Argentina, is not only gorgeous, set below the highest peak in the Andes, and reminiscent of a quaint European township, it also happens to be where the best (and most) wine in Argentina comes from. Its specialty? the Malbec. Its price? Unbelievable.

Traveling sola hasn´t yet been a lonely experience, but to go wine tasting alone sempt a little less than thrilling to me. I jumped on the bus at 10am anyway. The ride out to Maipu was 30 minutes and the day was clear and getting warm. I passed several bike rental shops : Bike and Wine, Wines and Bikes, Señor Bike, Doña Wine...and I got off the bus at the highly recommended, family owned Mr. Hugo´s.

There I was presented with a map and a cute green bike with a basket, as well as a cold bottle of water which I was sure to need later. As I paid, three guys walked up joking with one another about their previous night´s antics. I asked where they were from.

"London," the tall ginger answered. I told them I was from San Francisco, and suddenly one of them perked up.
"Me too!" he said excitedly. We compared notes, and turns out he is dating the sister of a guy I grew up with. Small world, as usual.

We took off in our renegade of four bikes to the first bodega, a wine museum actually. As we got our first tastes of Mendoza wine, an American couple joined us for a chat. They are from Minneapolis and teaching English in Valpaiso, Chile. Our bike crew grew to six and we rode down the tranquil, spacious countryside in the midday sunshine.

Our second bodega had a barbeque that smelled irresistible. This place gave us bean bag chairs and we ended up with a bottle of chardonnay on the grass. One bottle turned to two, the second being an aged Malbec, the best wine I would taste all day. (and for $40 Arg pesos, or roughly $12US, I wanted to send home a crate!)

We skipped the barbeque and kept on to a family winery, where we received a tour and tasting of their Malbecs, which you couldn´t buy anywhere else. They were delicious. The day continued with a tour of an olive oil factory and a chocolate manufacturer, then ended at Mr. Hugo´s with a final glass of wine and a couple empanadas.

When I thought I may be wine tasting alone, I am more than gracious for the fantastic group of people I ended up with. There´s truly nothing better than sharing a bottle of wine and a good laugh with great people in the sunshine.