West of Mollendo: Nothing but Pacific Ocean
Clothes drying in the desert air.
A modern oasis: A desert bus station.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
MOLLENDO SNAPS
East of Mollendo: Nothing but hills and desert.
West of Mollendo: Nothing but Pacific Ocean
Clothes drying in the desert air.
A modern oasis: A desert bus station.
West of Mollendo: Nothing but Pacific OceanClothes drying in the desert air.A modern oasis: A desert bus station.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
BIRD WATCHIN'
I've just had a long weekend. Because of Easter I didn't have to work on Thursday or Friday so I headed to the beach. It was my first Peruvian beach experience and a very enjoyable one. One Wednesday night after work I met up with a friend and we caught a night bus to the coast to a small town called Mollendo.
It was a thirteen hour journey, but definitely worth it to get some heat, sunshine and fresh seafood. We found a nice, cheap hostel near the beach and immediately hit the water. For three days we chilled on the beach, ate delicious ceviche, Latin America's version of sushi, and pranced around in the high waves trying not to get swept out into the cold Pacific Ocean.
But the highlight of the short three day trip was visiting the Sanctuario Nacional Lagunas de Mejia, a bird sanctuary on the coast about half an hour south of Mollendo. Although it sounds big and impressive, as it was, we were the only people there. On our first night in Mollendo we met a friendly security guard who was patroling the beach. The guard, Daniel, was a fountain of information and we hired him to take us to the sanctuary the next day (his other job was as a taxi driver).
So at seven am we met up with Daniel, bought a packed lunch and headed south. By the time we reached the sanctuary we were both experts in local history and architecture.Following a briefing from a very bored looking man in the empty visitor centre we set off along the coast.
We walked for about five hours. And I had borrowed a pair of binoculars and 'Birds of Peru' book from a friend so we stopped frequently to expertly spy on some nearby peligans or vultures. I had read that during these months there are thousands of migratory birds that have flown as far as 2500 miles from North America. We certainly seen thousands of birds and it was very impressive, but most were of the same species (and that is my expert opinion).
The sanctuary is an 8km strip along the coast so we were able to walk along the beach on the return trip, and it was there we seen the most birds, either just chilling there on the sand or dancing with the huge waves.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
DIRTY BUMS
Our Peruvian house mate, Hubert, took us mountain-biking last weekend on some proper trails. Unfortunately it rained for about five minutes creating just enough mud to give us all dirty bums.
三年生おめでとうございます！！
Congratulations to my old third year class who have just graduated from Junior High School.三年生おめでとうございます！将来頑張って下さい。
あなたたちのこと忘れません。
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
MORE HIKING SNAPS
On Sunday my housemates Peter and Sanne and myself caught a bus to the town of Qorau and then hiked through the mountains back to Cusco. Here are some snaps.Peter leading the way. There was no trail so we jsut kinda' headed north and hoped for the best.
Sanne posing.
Peter posing.
Passing through a village.
Looking for Cusco.
Coming into another little village.
Monday, February 25, 2008
SEVEN FLOWERS
I went on a school field trip to Tipon on Saturday. There I seen a Peruvian tradition in practice. Many Peruvian women (and maybe probably men too) believe that if you gather seven flowers, wrap them in a handkerchief and then sleep with them under your pillow for seven nights you will receive a lot of love. Love from your family, friends, colleagues and even enemies. The flowers must be wild and they must be seven different species. Most of the women in our group were gathering flowers as we hiked through the ruins and some risked breaking there neck to reach across streams for flowers, so it must really work.
HUMDINGER
Seen a hummingbird when hiking the Inka Trail. It was my first time to see one and they really are splendid creatures. This one wasn't shy at all and let me get real close for a photo.
Friday, February 22, 2008
SUNDAY ROAD TRIP
I took a solo road trip on Sunday. Despite being a little tired from Saturday’s hike and then dancing until four a.m. I was very eager to try out my new wheels.
There is a town called Pisac, also famous for Inka ruins, some thirty-three kilometers from Cusco. I acknowledged that sixty-six kms was far too much for my first day on the bike, especially at an altitude of over 3500 M.
‘I’ll just cycle in that direction and see how far I get before I am tired’, I said giving myself a wink in the mirror.
The initial hour or so was a battle as it was all uphill. First I had to carry my bike up about two hundred very steep steps just to get onto the road. And then it was a forty minute uphill slog along the same road I had hiked on Saturday.
But once I passed the Inka site Tambomachay the road flattened out and my mood lifted as my heart rate slowed. The weather was amazing bright and clear with just a few clouds in the sky, and supposedly quite unusual for this time of the year (it’s now rainy season).
About an hour and a half outside of Cusco the road began to descend deep down into a valley. It was so much fun flying down the curvy road at high speed I barely acknowledged that I would have to cycle back up every steep kilometer that I flew down.
It wasn’t until I a village at the bottom of the valley that I realized just how far down I had came, not to mention the number of kilometers I had covered.
I stopped for a bottle of Inka Cola and to wipe the the tears from my face (due to the high speed and wind, not the thought of cycling home again) and asked some locals how much further it was to Pisac. A taxi driver told me it was about ten minutes by car so I reckoned on about thirty on my bike. I hoped it would be either flat all the way, or even a little up hill to make the return journey easier, but not having the vocabulary to ask about gradients and altitudes I just thanked my new and highly amused friends for the cola and set of again.
To my pleasure and dismay the next fifteen km or so was also all downhill. The sun was hot and high in the sky and the breeze as I bombed down closer and closer to sea level made me feel very free.
There was one point during this euphoric downhill race on the virtually empty road that I acknowledged just how far down I was going and how extremely difficult it was going to be to return by the same road. But it felt so great racing down into the valley surrounded by beautiful lush mountains without even having to turn a pedal that I said to myself ‘to hell with it. I’ll just keep going. And if it’s too hard on the way back I’ll just jump on one of the occasional buses that are passing by’. But inside I knew that I would be too stubborn to take a bus back, that I would see that as a sign of failure. And so down, down, down I went eventually arriving in a valley at the town of Pisac. A pretty town from a distance with a long and wide river running through the centre. But of course up close it was poor and basic like most other parts of Peru. In town I strolled through the market and then found a restaurant on a side street for a (very mediocre, but cheap) lunch. And then another bottle of Inka Cola for the energy I knew I would need for the thirty-three km journey back.
I then sat by the river for half an hour to rest up and let my not-properly cooked rice digest. I got really sleepy and would have loved to lie down and doze for a while, but I was pretty certain that if I did there would be a good chance of walking up bikeless.
So I wearily dragged myself up and forced the thoughts of a leisurely bus ride home out of my head. I cranked the tunes on my MP3 player and started the ascent. Just as I left town groups of bus drivers were touting tickets back to Cusco at very tempting prices and other bikes were clearly visible strapped to the roofs of the small buses. But I just smiled and cycled on past.
The next four hours were the most physically demanding that I can ever remember doing IN MY WHOLE LIFE. Thirty-three kilometers, most of which was uphill and some of that very, very steep (see picture of roadsign). I climbed over 1100 metres and at times could hardly even keep up momentum in first gear. The beautiful views were forgotten as I panted for oxygen in the thin air and forced my thighs to continue with the grueling task of which they were so unaccustomed.
I wanted to give up many times, especially as every bus and taxi that passed beeped their horn to let me know I could jump aboard. During the last hour and half the sky clouded over and I became too saddle sore to sit down and too tired to stand up on my bike, but still I refused to quit or even push the bike for a few minutes. I was stopping every five minutes for a break and to regret not bringing any snacks.
There were road markers every kilometer from Cusco, so as I neared the city they counted down to zero. But this was mostly cruel and disheartening as I was already exhausted with 28 km to go.
As I reached the outskirts of Cusco, the ascent ended and the downhill began. Almost delirious with exhaustion I was glad when the rain started and hid any tears of relief that may have appeared.
Fifteen minutes later, wet and hardly able to move I staggered into my room and collapsed in bed.
There is a town called Pisac, also famous for Inka ruins, some thirty-three kilometers from Cusco. I acknowledged that sixty-six kms was far too much for my first day on the bike, especially at an altitude of over 3500 M.
‘I’ll just cycle in that direction and see how far I get before I am tired’, I said giving myself a wink in the mirror.
The initial hour or so was a battle as it was all uphill. First I had to carry my bike up about two hundred very steep steps just to get onto the road. And then it was a forty minute uphill slog along the same road I had hiked on Saturday.
But once I passed the Inka site Tambomachay the road flattened out and my mood lifted as my heart rate slowed. The weather was amazing bright and clear with just a few clouds in the sky, and supposedly quite unusual for this time of the year (it’s now rainy season).
About an hour and a half outside of Cusco the road began to descend deep down into a valley. It was so much fun flying down the curvy road at high speed I barely acknowledged that I would have to cycle back up every steep kilometer that I flew down.
It wasn’t until I a village at the bottom of the valley that I realized just how far down I had came, not to mention the number of kilometers I had covered.I stopped for a bottle of Inka Cola and to wipe the the tears from my face (due to the high speed and wind, not the thought of cycling home again) and asked some locals how much further it was to Pisac. A taxi driver told me it was about ten minutes by car so I reckoned on about thirty on my bike. I hoped it would be either flat all the way, or even a little up hill to make the return journey easier, but not having the vocabulary to ask about gradients and altitudes I just thanked my new and highly amused friends for the cola and set of again.
To my pleasure and dismay the next fifteen km or so was also all downhill. The sun was hot and high in the sky and the breeze as I bombed down closer and closer to sea level made me feel very free.
There was one point during this euphoric downhill race on the virtually empty road that I acknowledged just how far down I was going and how extremely difficult it was going to be to return by the same road. But it felt so great racing down into the valley surrounded by beautiful lush mountains without even having to turn a pedal that I said to myself ‘to hell with it. I’ll just keep going. And if it’s too hard on the way back I’ll just jump on one of the occasional buses that are passing by’. But inside I knew that I would be too stubborn to take a bus back, that I would see that as a sign of failure. And so down, down, down I went eventually arriving in a valley at the town of Pisac. A pretty town from a distance with a long and wide river running through the centre. But of course up close it was poor and basic like most other parts of Peru. In town I strolled through the market and then found a restaurant on a side street for a (very mediocre, but cheap) lunch. And then another bottle of Inka Cola for the energy I knew I would need for the thirty-three km journey back.I then sat by the river for half an hour to rest up and let my not-properly cooked rice digest. I got really sleepy and would have loved to lie down and doze for a while, but I was pretty certain that if I did there would be a good chance of walking up bikeless.
So I wearily dragged myself up and forced the thoughts of a leisurely bus ride home out of my head. I cranked the tunes on my MP3 player and started the ascent. Just as I left town groups of bus drivers were touting tickets back to Cusco at very tempting prices and other bikes were clearly visible strapped to the roofs of the small buses. But I just smiled and cycled on past.
The next four hours were the most physically demanding that I can ever remember doing IN MY WHOLE LIFE. Thirty-three kilometers, most of which was uphill and some of that very, very steep (see picture of roadsign). I climbed over 1100 metres and at times could hardly even keep up momentum in first gear. The beautiful views were forgotten as I panted for oxygen in the thin air and forced my thighs to continue with the grueling task of which they were so unaccustomed.I wanted to give up many times, especially as every bus and taxi that passed beeped their horn to let me know I could jump aboard. During the last hour and half the sky clouded over and I became too saddle sore to sit down and too tired to stand up on my bike, but still I refused to quit or even push the bike for a few minutes. I was stopping every five minutes for a break and to regret not bringing any snacks.
There were road markers every kilometer from Cusco, so as I neared the city they counted down to zero. But this was mostly cruel and disheartening as I was already exhausted with 28 km to go.
As I reached the outskirts of Cusco, the ascent ended and the downhill began. Almost delirious with exhaustion I was glad when the rain started and hid any tears of relief that may have appeared.
Fifteen minutes later, wet and hardly able to move I staggered into my room and collapsed in bed.
Monday, February 18, 2008
SATURDAY HIKE
Went hiking this Saturday with a couple of friends. Here are a couple of snaps (camera is sporadically functioning again).We met three Peruvians with a large flag. They were walking along the mountain tops as some type of protest to the current government.
Posing with my hostel-mate Sanne at some Inka ruins.
Cusco is so mountainous and the people so passionate about football that they will play anywhere they can find a flat place. Even in the middle of nowhere as this was.
A fence and some mountains.
A cheesy pose and some mountains.
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