15 Cities in 14 Days: Part II

We arrived with several hours to kill in Tacna, Peru, so we visited some mansions in the downtown area that had been donated and were free to the public. It was a trend among the rich to construct houses with an inner courtyard, such as the one displayed below.

While shopping around the town for fruit and souvenirs, we passed by many pastelerías and finally gave in to our cravings. We stopped by one just to “peek inside” and fifteen minutes later found ourselves devouring a torta de mil hojas, a popular puff pastry that can include manjar or dulce de leche, among various other fillings.

Later that night as we searched among back alleys for the bus terminal where we would catch our ride to Arequipa, we ran into a couple of Peruvian police officers and received something like an escort to our destination - they accompanied us to the terminal, stopped traffic, and even carried our bags. They also scolded us for not taking adequate precautions against the dark and unfamiliar streets of a foreign city, but then asked that we mention what a wonderful place Tacna truly is to all of our gringo friends back home.

We reached Arequipa the next morning around 4:00 am and took a taxi to the hostel we had booked while in Tacna. Arequipa turned out to be a pretty trendy and touristy town—we shopped around, met some locals, and explored the vivid 16th century Monasterio de Santa Catalina de Siena, pictures of which can be seen below.

After our trip to the monastery we hit up the market for lunch (and eventually dinner that night as well). This was among the biggest markets we had seen thus far in our travels, and it boasted local delicacies such as the lobster bread below:

The next day we ate lunch with a couple of local girls with whom we had negotiated jewelry deals the previous day. They encouraged us to try cuy (guinea pig), a delicacy in Peru, and recoto relleno, or Peruvian peppers filled with meat, cheese, and potatoes. Though we had neither during our stay (the first was too expensive and the second wasn’t among the cheap items sold in the market), we did enjoy a good bit of ceviche (various bits of raw seafood marinated in citric acid) without falling ill.

We then headed to the Museo Santuarios Andinos (Museum of Andean Sanctuaries) to see the Ice Maiden Juanita, the mummy child who was sacrificed to the Incan deities on Mount Ampato. Juanita was discovered after the collapse of the Incan burial site and was exposed to the intense climate of the Andes for a few weeks before being transported to a university in Arequipa. The ancient Incan mummy received her fame due to the extremely well-preserved condition of her organs and body, which provided much information pertaining to her diet and cause of death.

That night we took another overnight bus into Cuzco, which turned out to be the site of quite an eventful day for me. We began by eating a small breakfast in a café that overlooked the plaza de armas and watched as the sun rose over the mountainous terrain that engulfs the colonial city--and that was when my stomach began to churn. I believe my illness that day was caused by a curious fruit I had eaten earlier in the morning, the granadilla, which is split into two and then consumed by sucking out the fish-egg-like innards in the least feminine, slurpiest possible form.

At any rate, I was a connoisseur of Cuzco bathrooms by the end of the day (I believe my complete track record was 12 visits to 7 bathrooms across the city). Shortly before my final run I realized my camera was missing from my jacket pocket. Perhaps I had abandoned it in one of the many bathrooms I had visited, or maybe it was just stolen. I was bummed by the turn in events - the following day we were scheduled to tour Machu Picchu.  We still had a few hours to kill before catching our ride to Ollantaytambo, however, and so we set out to buy a replacement. Catherine sympathized with my situation and drove a hard bargain with the store manager, eventually obtaining a 20% discount from the original price of the Sony camera I ended up purchasing.

The next day we awoke around 4:30 am in Ollantaytambo to take a bus to Aguas Calientes and then a train to Machu Picchu. Our trip was completed despite many setbacks that day. Personal ailments included weak bowels (a tribute to the day before), a cough I obtained from dehydration in the Atacama Desert, and a strained ankle I received from who-knows-how-many miles of walking throughout the various cities we had visited up to that point. In addition, the train to Aguas Calientes (Machu Picchu's point of entry) broke down twice and cost us an hour and a half of our tour, and one of the volunteers succumbed to altitude sickness once again. Yet we all managed to hike to the top of Montaña Machu Picchu together. The journey required 3.5 hours due to the thinness of the air—we were forced to stop every 20 meters or so to catch our breath, though all of us were in good physical condition. The following is the view from the summit.

Afterwards we toured Machu Picchu itself and encountered the vicuñas that inhabit the ruins. We enjoyed an early dinner before catching the train back to Ollantaytambo. This train was also delayed—twice—due to another train ahead that was having trouble.

We left Ollantaytambo the next day for Urubamba and then Písac, a tiny pueblo known as much for its variety of handicrafts as for its abundance of Incan ruins.  The view of the mountains on the way out made for a spectacular taxi ride. From Písac we headed back to Cuzco for one last visit, and the descent from the top of the mountains into the sprawling city below was equally breathtaking. I held on to my camera very tightly this time.

The next day took us to Puno, where we embarked on a tour of Lake Titicaca, though not before being unceremoniously locked in the tour guide's office for the half-hour before the tour was scheduled to begin and then being rushed by said guide to a 20-minute breakfast in a little café. It was a strange start to a surreal day. Our boat left shore early that morning to take us to las islas flotantes de los Uros, a group of man-made islands that float off the coast of the city. The islands are inhabited by 2,000 or so Uros who use the tourist industry to maintain their culture and lifestyle. Their vitality depends on the lake itself, the inflow of money from curious tourists, and the totora, the plant from which the islands are constructed. The Uros not only rely upon the plant for a source of building materials, but also as their primary form of sustenance.

Afterwards, we reboarded the boat and headed to Taquile, an island of about 2,000 native Quechuan speakers who run their own society and benefit economically from tourism, fishing, and farming. Before arriving, our guide warned us that machismo maintains a strong influence among the Taquileños with the result that women are not allowed to walk beside their husbands. Interestingly enough, the men are exclusively responsible for the weaving and knitting of their world-renowned handicrafts, while the women make the yarn (some even out of their own hair). We had the opportunity to explore for a bit and eat lunch before departing for our journey back to the mainland.

Upon arrival in Puno, we enjoyed a brief dinner and then hurried to the bus terminal for our overnight ride to Tacna. We chose not to dawdle in the border town this time, but proceeded to the bus terminal that would take us back to Chile...

15 Cities in 14 Days: Part III

 The ride back down through southern Peru and northern Chile turned out to be somewhat less eventful than the trip in the opposite direction, although we did spend two consecutive nights on buses.  We passed through Ollantaytambo, Urobamba, Pisaq, Cuzco, Puno, Tacna, and Arica before finally crashing at a hostel in Iquique, Chile.   We put our heads together and figured that by the end of the trip, we would have spent some 69 hours (and seven nights) of the last two weeks on buses. 

A word on buses:  hostels are always nicer to spend the night.  Though many of our stays lacked hot water, wifi, and other amenities, they at least offered a clean bathroom with toilet paper and a place to brush your teeth.  On the other hand, all of the complimentary breakfasts we received were served aboard Chilean overnight buses with central heating, pillows, and blankets.  Personal belongings are not guaranteed safety in either location, unfortunately.   In the end, though I cannot recommend the buses as comfortable overnight accommodations, they are only slightly more expensive than hostels and are worth considering, especially if you don’t mind taking care of hygiene concerns in nasty bus terminal bathrooms (which we didn’t). 

Iquique turned out to be another trendy area on the desert coastline.  Also, as a port city, Iquique boasted a tax and tariff-free zone to which locals and tourists flocked to their most expensive purchases.  We made a run to pick up a bottle of perfume for one of the girls’ host moms, and the experience left quite an impression.  Imagine being in a huge mall on Black Friday, surrounded by all the wide-eyed monster mothers eager to buy the perfect gift for the little ones sleeping at home—that’s what we were up against.  When we called the host mom on the phone to verify the cost of the purchase, she actually told us she was JEALOUS that we were there. 

Iquique also turned out to be the site of the best hostel (this was actually a hotel) in which we spent one of our non-overnight-bus nights.  We simply walked into the hotel, introduced ourselves as English teachers through the Chilean volunteer program, and were rewarded with a discount due to a desk clerk’s friend’s previous involvement with the program!  We landed a room with four double beds for the equivalent of roughly $10. 

The next afternoon our party split:  Catherine left for her host family in Coquimbo while the resto of us took different buses to our last destination, Copiapó (this is very close to where the Chilean miners were trapped).  In the bus terminal that night we ran into five other program volunteers fresh from Peru.  They, like us, had traveled through the Atacama Desert to Machu Picchu and were currently on their way back down through Chile.  It was a shame that they arrived at Iquique just as we were leaving, but we gave them our hotel/restaurant recommendations and went on our way.

15 Cities in 14 Days: Part I

During the two weeks of winter vacation in Chile, several of the English Opens Doors volunteers planned to travel to Peru to see Machu Picchu. Always having wanted to see the ruins myself, I made plans with three other girls to go exploring on what little money we had all saved. The following adventure involved many an overnight bus ride, several days without showers, constant solicitations for discounts, and cheap meals bought in local markets or from street vendors. We also befriended the locals whenever possible to continue practicing our Spanish and to learn more about the culture in each place we visited.

Part I of our trip consists of our travels throughout northern Chile. As Santiago is located roughly in the center of the country, we decided to take cheap buses up to the border and cross over into Peru (prices for one-way tickets ranged from roughly $10.00 to 35.00 in USD). I met with another volunteer in Santiago, Tricia, to take a bus to La Serena, where we would rendezvous with the two others in our party. We ate a brief dinner upon arrival and departed for Antofagasta via an overnight bus - the first of many to come.

Antofagasta turned out to be a deceptively large city in which huge desert dunes descend into the Pacific Ocean. As one of the other volunteers pointed out, we can now boast of having eaten seafood in the middle of the driest desert in the world. Being the strong, determined, independent women that we were, we decided to walk to the Plaza de Armas, against the advice of all the locals from whom we asked directions.  (A side note: all cities have a centro and a Plaza de Armas, both of which are located at the heart of the city. The Plaza consists of a large square with a Catholic church and various other municipal buildings.) We asked directions from the locals after every few blocks but kept losing ourselves, much to our frustration.  I have since learned that our failure to follow simple directions was due to a language barrier:  in Spanish, a la derecha means "to the right" and a la izquierda means "to the left."  Derecho, however, means "straight."  Every time we heard derecho, we went a la derecha, thus taking many wrong turns before we finally reached the market first and loaded up on very cheap fruit for the following bus ride.

When we did finally find the centro, we had about 30 minutes of leisure time to complete our touristy tasks: we took too many pictures, bought cheap souvenirs for the folks back home, and asked for directions back to the bus terminal. We then took a colectivo (cheaper version of a taxi and with fixed stops) back to the terminal for our next trip to San Pedro de Atacama.

San Pedro turned out to be the most interesting, albeit touristy, area we visited in Chile. A small town of only 2,000 or so permanent residents, San Pedro exists mainly as a central hub for tourist operations in the surrounding desert and is characterized by its endearing dusty roads and compact, adobe buildings. We arrived after night had settled in and awed at the brilliant stars - there were no streetlamps or light posts in the entire city. As it was too early to go to bed that night, we went out to dinner at a nearby restaurant with a bonfire (a common trend in that small town) and enjoyed the musical prowess of a local Andean group. After the final number concluded, the members explained to us that they perform each night in different restaurants across San Pedro and that they view their work is a method of preserving their cultural backgrounds. All five members had indigenous ancestry, though some were from southern parts of Chile such as Concepción (central site of the earthquake in February 2010). They invited us out to a party afterwards (one of the perks of traveling in all-female company) and we spent the remainder of the evening mingling with the locals. Although we turned in rather early due to bus lag, they later informed us that the party did not wind down until 5:30 the next morning.

The next day we embarked on a cheap tour with a few others to Laguna Cejas, a salt lake located a few miles away in the desert. Though the temperature outside was less than ideal for swimming (remember, it’s winter here), the relative warmth of the water made this feat possible for tourists eager to float weightlessly in the high-salt-content lake. Afterwards, we reloaded our bus to travel to Laguna Tebenquiche for the sunset. Below are pictures of this second lake. It was extremely shallow, so much so that one could walk across and appear to be walking on water…

The next day we embarked on a journey to Valle de la Luna and Valle de la Muerte, two valleys in the desert that are appropriately named for their landscape. The former, located in the Cordillera de la Sal, boasts various stone and sand formations that make a strong lunar impression on visitors. It is also known as one of the driest valleys on Earth, as the landscape is coated in salt and some areas have not received even a drop of rain in hundreds of years. The Valle de la Muerte, on the other hand, is so-named for its giant dunes and craggy apertures, and is apparently a tourist attraction for those with sandboarding capabilities.

Our final tour the following day took us to the Tatio Geysers located high in the Andes mountain range. As the geysers are most active at dawn and are located a few hours from San Pedro, we were forced to awaken at 4:30 in the morning to make the journey in time. Though the temperature hovered around freezing, we enjoyed the view nonetheless and ate a healthy breakfast provided by our guide (eggs boiled in the geysers). As the geysers had an altitude of 4,200 meters, one of our companions fell ill with altitude sickness and resorted to drinking té de coca to alleviate her symptoms. Apparently coca leaves are commonly used for this purpose in the Atacama Desert and in Peru as well.

After breakfast, we had the opportunity to swim in another heated lake but chose to avoid the other tourists as well as the intense cold of the air. Instead we descended the mountain and passed by a deserted bus that had rolled halfway down into the valley below 18 years earlier.  Our guide, José, informed us that the bus had contained several tourists, all of whom perished when the driver lost control of the vehicle. The bus had never been removed from the side of the mountain and thus served as an eerie reminder to drivers to navigate the twists and turns with precaution.

José then drove us a few more hours to the distant (and teensy) town of Chiu Chiu, where we promptly took photos of the oldest church in Chile before departing once again to visit Pukará de Lasana, a pre-Columbian fortress built in the 12th century. Along the way we viewed petroglyghs, or ancient pictures carved into stones by an indigenous people that predated even the Incans. The rocks onto which they were carved were perched ominously along the cliffs above the highway and seemed perfectly capable of tumbling onto passersby at any moment. Finally we arrived at Calama, a mining town full of men, where we caught an overnight bus to Arica.

We arrived at Arica at 6:30 the morning of the 14th to find one of the volunteer’s bags missing. Catherine, a spunky, first-generation New Yorker from China, had left her bag on the overhead bus rack.  We were the only foreigners on that particular ride and were thus obvious targets. A seasoned traveler, Catherine knew to keep her passport, money, and personal documents on her person; the thief’s stolen booty thus consisted only of the bag itself, a few inexpensive souvenirs, and several pairs of dirty socks and underwear.

Arica turned out to be a hip, modern port town on the border of Peru. As we arrived at 6:30 am, it was too early to book a train to Tacna, Peru, so we decided to hit up the first American hot spot we spied:  McDonald’s. As it had been more than 36 hours since any of us had showered, we spent about 30 minutes freshening up in the bathrooms. We returned to the train station only to learn that travelers must book tickets at least one day in advance of the intended departure, so we reluctantly trudged back to the bus terminal to find an international company that would serve our needs. We found a bus to cross the border for just a couple of bucks and traveled to our next destination: Tacna.