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Cusco and the Deathly Hallows

The overland route from Huacachina to Cuzco doesn’t look so bad. Until you zoom in.

Then you see the many twisting, hairpin turns. Normally not at all a problem for me – especially on Peru’s luxury buses with cushy, broad, reclining seats. But during the ride, the inevitable Big Bout of Food Poisoning finally struck, and it was an epic struggle managing the consequences while being slammed around in the bus bathroom.

Needless to say, we did nothing but sleep our first day in Cuzco. I had a nightmare that stayed with me till the sun rose that I was descending a mountain via a maze and had gotten trapped in a dead end, where I would die. Even when I woke up, I was in such a delirious state that I thought the danger was still real. Elise slept peacefully though the night, thank God.

On day 2, we managed to walk 10 paces to a tiny, organic restaurant across the street for basic soup broth and Peruvian mate tea, which helped. But that night I had more nightmares about death. My childhood home had been replaced by a gigantic yellow brick bridge tower. The bridge was so high up it was terrifying. A Czech friend had built a house beneath it, but I could see that the construction was haphazard. And then, from way on high, the bricks started falling in clusters and her roof gave in. Everyone was running out in a panic, but my friend didn’t make it and was crushed under the bricks. I woke up terrified and aching all over.

Finally, on Day 3, we felt good enough to venture into town.

We were immediately rewarded by seeing an alpaca and lamb accompanied by two ladies in traditional Peruvian dress. Elise was beside herself! And I loved the alpaca’s big, round, fluffy head and cute knock knees, and I thought it was adorable that one of the ladies had held up her colorful skirt to show off the pattern – like a big little girl. Of course, they – and even the Inca Sun God – expected a few soles for their modeling. It was all very touristy and light-hearted – just what we needed after having returned from the dead.

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Desert oasis and sandboarding in Huacachina

We escaped the big city and reached Huacachina, Peru, a palm-fringed desert oasis surrounded by 100m high sand dunes. It was startling at first looking up and seeing the dunes, which loom like static tidal waves.

This was the somewhat mind-blowing view from our window:

We explored the tiny town by walking around the pond. It took 10 minutes. Elise added a bracelet to her collection. A woman from Argentina made one for her that picked up on the colors of her other bracelets.

The next day we caught a ride in a sand buggy to a spot for sand boarding. The driver roared the engine as we sped down what looked like 80° inclines. Elise held onto me tightly and we screamed as our stomachs dropped. After that, the sand boarding itself was like a gentle walk in the park. We started by zooming down on our bellies – weeeeeeeee! It was like sledding on powdery snow, except that it was wonderfully warm and cozy and über soft. Later, on a more shallow incline, we tried standing up on our boards. Seriously good fun!

The oasis at sunset.

Elise got a kick out of being able to sip fresh papaya juice at the pool bar at Ecocamp and play endlessly in the water, perfecting her handstands and boogying to the blaring dance music. I wished I had been able to enjoy the place as much as she did, but the decibel levels made that impossible for me. I kept thinking of the Hawaii episode of Mad Men. Don and Megan are in tropical paradise, but Don felt only tension.

To make themselves feel better about maintaining a pool in the middle of the desert, Ecocamp recycles, does daily clean-ups of the dunes, and even provides free room and board in poolside cabanas to volunteers working on sustainability projects. Unless you are Don Draper (or a misophone like me), it would not be a bad place to volunteer for a few weeks.  The town itself is tiny – only 200 inhabitants – and nearly all of them are geared towards making your stay fun.

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Miraflores, Lima and that Guilty Feeling

As a world traveler, lover of art, and mother, I feel that I failed Central Lima. Elise and I were holed up in our hotel there for two days – venturing out only for a quick meal in the mall next door. We could have and should have visited the Museo Nacional – or at least strolled the 2km between the main plazas, but a combination of fatigue, noise aversion, and having read that Central Lima was not the safest place to wander put a temporary dent in my Wanderlust. We did, however, manage to get a few impressions of the suburb of Miraflores. We took in the splendid views of the Pacific Ocean from a hillside mall, lunched on sushi and yucca fries near the sidewalk art gallery at JFK Park, and bought our bus tickets to Ica/Huacachina, as well as art supplies for Elise (she was in heaven – Miraflores was ground zero for art shops!)

We also sampled delicious Peruvian caramel and pecan chocolates. If we happen upon another store selling the same treats, my Christmas shopping for my entire family in the US will be done.

On our way to the pre-Incan Huaca Pucllana ruins, we came upon a tiny princess in white. We applauded her fancy dress and gave her a coin to celebrate her special day. (It wasn’t exactly clear to us what that day was, however. She was too young for First Communion, but might have been flower girl.)

We were too late to take a tour of the ruins, but were still able to see how the handmade adobe bricks were carefully shaped and stacked, which helped protect the structures against seismic activity over the past 1,500 years.

Alas, when traveling one cannot See Everything. It is important to know what one loves and values and focus on that. I am much happier on remote islands or in mountain villages than in most big cities (and Elise seems happiest anywhere she can swim, lol). It may seem odd – even though we are traveling for a year, we don’t actually have infinite time on our hands and I don’t want to squander time in places that don’t excite/inspire/spark the imagination. Next time we need to pass through a big city, I’ll make sure we either hit the museums and noteworthy neighborhoods or move on quickly to our next destination.

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Long bus ride and astonishing decibel levels in Lima

To get from Guayaquil, Ecuador to Lima, Peru, we had the option to fly economy ($700 for the two of us) or take a bus ($240) with large, reclining business class seats. The catch? The bus took 28 hours. Yes, 28. It had the potential to be Truly Miserable. But since we have to make our budget last a full year, I opted for the bus and made sure we had hours of entertainment and courses to watch, as well as water and snacks. Turns out, it was surprisingly pleasant! The meals and wifi were hit or miss, but the movie selection was great and we caught up on lots of sleep. At the border crossing, we got our exit stamps from Ecuador and then moved 5 feet over to the Peru counter and got our entry stamps for Peru. No visa required.

As we traveled down the coast, we saw giant sand dunes to the west, and a string of tiny villages and towns to the east.

I had gotten a good feel for navigating Ecuador, but I had no sense at all for Peru. We were going to be arriving in Lima after dark (exhausted, I assumed), and I didn’t want to travel in a random taxi to a hostel in an unknown neighborhood, so I used up more precious points to book a shuttle and room at the Sheraton. Well, Elise was positively delighted. And after one full month of travel, I also was grateful for more time at a shiny place with reliable hot water and excellent wifi.

Elise + pancakes = happiness

Surprise! This tiny ‘banana’ turned out to passion fruit.

The hotel was connected to a large mall that had blaring music. The decibel level was beyond anything I’d ever experienced outside of a rock concert. I couldn’t understand it. Did folks here need the extra volume to feel like they were having fun? When I looked around, it did not appear that the people were especially festive. In any case, after a quick meal, we retreated to the quiet of the hotel where Elise drew in her journal and had a science lesson about two neutron stars colliding. But then, a parade with even higher decibel levels started up across the street. Although we were 13 floors above the ground, even my Bose Noise Canceling Headset could not wrestle the noise down to a tolerable level. I ranted on Facebook and a Georgetown colleague explained that it was the Señor de los Milagros parade, which can attract up to a million religious revelers. Noise rules in the city apparently don’t apply. He warned that anyone who dares to complain is called a heretic or satanic, lol, so I buried myself in travel planning to avoid being dubbed la diabla gringa. 😉

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Guayaquil, Ecuador – the Angry Chinese Lady, big bottoms, and new Sharpies

Guayaqauil is a big, gritty city with blaring horns and many dreary facades, but it also has some grand parks – there’s even one with land inguanas! – and many good restaurants…some with a high entertainment factor.

On our first day we ate at Chifa Long Ge, a modest Chinese restaurant around the corner from our hostel.  The waiter was gracious and helpful. I ordered what I thought were two vegetarian noodle soups (“sin carne, por favor”). We heard some yelling in the kitchen while we waited, but didn’t pay much attention. The soups arrived and I discovered that mine had pieces of chicken and pork. When the waiter saw my surprise, he motioned towards the kitchen, where there was still yelling, and indicated I should put the pieces of meat to the side on my plate. Something in his look made me not want to make a fuss, so I nodded and decided to look out for a hungry-looking person to whom I could give the meat. When I noticed that Elise’s soup did not have noodles, I asked if we could order a portion of noodles for her.

Shortly afterwards, the source of the yelling emerged from the kitchen. It was, somewhat incongruently, a cute, blonde Chinese woman in a cheerful pink smock. I figured she was just in a bad mood, and didn’t pay much attention. It would seem, however, that our request for extra noodles had pissed her off.

Our waiter appeared with the noodles. Minutes later, another waiter appeared with what looked like the remaining portion of noodles and said “Shhhhhhhh!” while sliding them into Elise’s soup. There was more yelling and it suddenly became clear that the cute Chinese lady wasn’t just in a bad mood – she was a cute, angry Chinese lady.

A smiling merchant selling smudged magnifying glasses and selfie sticks appeared in the store and I quickly handed him my plate of meat. He looked incredibly surprised, but grateful. As he was putting the meat into a plastic bag, the Angry Chinese Lady stormed over and shook the plate to speed up the process and then yelled at him. Arrrrrrrg. I was expecting her to yell at us next, but instead, she made me walk over to the register to get my change. I left feeling a strange mix of wariness, satisfaction (the soups were good), and amusement. Would she not have been perfect for an episode of Seinfeld?!

Elise later commemorated her in a drawing with lines above her head to indicate that she was fuming. The drawing also included an accurate representation of the restaurant sign, a snoozing iguana, Elise’s newest Littlest Pet Shop figurine, and the Simpsons, which were playing while we ate.

The next day, as we strolled past the restaurant, we saw the Angry Chinese Lady wiping tables and I dared to ask if I could photograph her with Elise. She put her arm around Elise(!!!) and I took a shot. Unfortunately, the camera was on the wrong settings and the photo came out blurry so I dared to ask if I could take a second shot. But by then she was fed up, and let go of Elise to get back to wiping tables. I worried she would start yelling and quickly took one more shot, thanked her, and then we scurried away, giggling.

Although far less entertaining than Chifu Long Ge, the place we had breakfast the next day, Dulceria La Palma, was treat. With high ceilings, black & white photos of Guayaquil, and a wide vitrine with dozens of trays of little pastries, it had great, old-school charm. The breakfast menu included eggs, tiny, crispy croissants, yogurt with granola, tropical juice, and strong coffee. I was a happy camper. At 32 cents a pop, the little pastries were too good to pass up, so I ordered one of each to take with us.

As we walked back to our hostel, we marveled at some of the street scenes. There were shoe shiners with customers reading the paper on nearly every block which almost looked like clones of each other. There were also tangled wires and potholes that would make officers from the Ordnungsamt (Regulatory Office) back in Germany apoplectic. I considered creating an Instagram channel dedicated to such shots, but there was too much other interesting stuff to capture – such as newspaper stands with photos of big, bare-bottomed ladies just above coloring books for kids.

Although our hostel was recommended by Lonely Planet, we couldn’t stand the ornate blue/gold decor and dank bathroom, so I used points to book a stay in the local Marriott. Elise was thrilled beyond belief, poor thing, and vlogged enthusiastically about the room. It was then that I realized what a toll the less-than-stellar accommodations had taken on her.

Since our points freed up a portion of our daily budget, I treated her to a set of Sharpies.

I drew the line, however, on Build-A-Bear-style doggie outfits. I’ve promised Elise a dog when we return to Berlin (we’d both love a Pomeranian), but a doggie tennis dress or embroidered jumper? No. Just no.

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Farewell Galapagos

Returning to Santa Cruz from slightly remote Isabela Island felt strangely familiar – a bit like we were coming ‘home’. It was similar to the feeling I had back in 1990-92 when returning from travel in South East Asia to my home in Kyoto and Nishinomiya, Japan, where I could read the signs and easily navigate the trains. It made me think about where home is for us now. We’ve officially unregistered from Berlin, and the last time we lived in the US was four years ago. So, in a way, the address I entered somewhat tongue-in-cheek in my new Leuchturm journal was accurate: “The World” .

And where will home be in the future? We both love Berlin and the friends we’ve made there, and I think the international schools there are terrific. Germany is also on the side of the angels in its approach to the Syrian refugee crisis. Raw documentary footage I’ve seen of Syrian children who’ve lost parents in the war is shattering – their need for help far outweighs our perceived need to keep ‘others’ out.

But Elise and I have also talked about spending a year in Paris. Or maybe we’ve yet to discover our future home? a village in New Zealand or in Vietnam? or perhaps a palm-fringed harbor in the South Pacific? I have a running joke with my niece, Rach (who happens to be both gorgeous and fiercely intelligent). Any time I come up with an idea such as ‘move to Germany’ or ‘travel the world for a year’, she announces that she doesn’t believe that it’ll happen. Even after we’d moved to Berlin, and I asked “Do you believe me now?”, she wrote: “Nope”. Oh the joy of looking forward to many more exotic locations and Nopes from Rach!

In any case, back on Santa Cruz, we fell into ‘old’ habits – we had breakfast at our favorite cafe, popped into the same shops, had an $8 lobster lunch at our favorite restaurant, took a water taxi to a beach we’d visited before and then explored a nearby salt marsh (Elise’s science lesson for the day).

We followed the trail through Opuntia cacti to Las Grietas, a swimming nook in a deep rock crevice. Fearless locals are known to climb the nearly vertical rock walls to plunge into the water below. During our visit, however, we saw only normal folks who were yelping at the chilly water and slipping on the rocks at ground level. My camera gave me a welcome excuse to stay on the platform, but Elise carefully made her way over the rocks and was rewarded with an invigorating swim.

For dinner, we returned to our favorite restaurant for the last time. Our waiter recognized us immediately and, smiling from ear to ear, offered us a great deal on a soup and grilled fish dinner.

The Galapagos are a very special place, and one day I hope we’ll return to explore Floreana and the other smaller islands.

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Elise’s drawing of Isabella Island

Elise drew her (part-wolf) alter ego, Sunny, and her sister Ashlyn on Isabela Island, where they mountain biked along the coast, touched a giant tortoise, went body boarding and snorkeling with colorful fish and tortoises, and saw the Wall of Tears (gray volcanic rocks in the upper right). Also depicted are sea lions, volcanic rocks, and Opuntia cacti on the beach, a water taxi in the harbor, and the tiny bird with whom Elise shared an apple.

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Isabela Island, Galapagos

This place feels much more remote than Santa Cruz – even slightly abandoned, which is a welcome thing.

With its squarish, concrete structures (many half-finished) and radio towers, however, Puerto Villamol is not especially charming at first glance. The roads around the town square are dirt while the park is paved. Go figure. Just a block or two away there are barren lots strewn with cinderblocks and plastic tubs, which reminded me of deep West VA, except instead of dirt, the ground is covered in black volcanic gravel like a rustic parking lot. Opposite a flamingo pond is what appears to be a 1950’s style power plant.

But the island holds many lovely surprises, such as Concha de Perla, a wooden walkway where sea lions snooze (you have to step over them!) through a mangrove swamp to a bay which is home to marine iguanas and giant tortoises.

There is also a long stretch of beach with turquoise green water, the softest sand ever, and pleasant beach cafes.

The restaurants that looked run-of-the-mill by day light up at night from the glow of lanterns. The seafood is also excellent. We took advantage of ubiquitous $8 set menu options and sampled the grilled fish, lobster, and fish soup and (apart from a mushy seafood spaghetti) enjoyed every bite.

Elise adores pools, and I wanted to give her a special experience during our final days in the Galapagos, so I booked a stay at The Wooden House (3x our normal budget) based on the photos of its big pool. But while the rooms were lovely and Zen-like, the pool ended up being teensy tiny (trick photography).

After one night we switched to another hotel with spacious rooms, gleaming floors, and hammocks on a breezy top-floor terrace. Having essentially won back some of our budget, I looked into guided tours. The options depicted in faded photos at the travel agencies, however, left a lot to be desired. There were tours of the Tuneles, Volcanes, and Tintoreras, but travelers we met said the volcano tour was not worth it, and it was much better to see the other sites yourself. So we rented snorkels ($6 for 2 of us for the afternoon) and swam in the bay with marine iguanas, giant tortoises, and many colorful fish (my favorite was a black fish with electric blue eyes and a yellow mouth), and then rode mountain bikes to see flamingos and tortoises at a conservation center where Elise was allowed by an enthusiastic guide to touch a highly interactive tortoise! It was amazing looking into this 100+ year old creature’s eyes, who shrunk back into his/her shell any time we gestured too wildly.

We then rode a 5k path along gorgeous coastline which eventually turned inland.

There were various scenic lookout points marked with large signs for “Green Ponds”, “Round Pool”, “Hidden Pool” etc (was like shopping for sights at a supermarket), as well as a high platform with 360 degree views of the island.

Elise decided to forego the climb in favor of having a snack, which she shared with two little birds. As a gearhead, I was absurdly pleased to be able to offer her one of our tiny, ultralight camping chairs for the first time.

From the lookout platform, there was sea as far as the eye could see in one direction, and uninhabited, scrub-covered land in the other that disappeared into a wall of fog. I felt the desolation of the place and had a flicker of melancholy.

The path ended at the towering 100m long Wall of Tears, which was built by convicts under abusive conditions at the time of the island’s penal colony (1946-59). The wall appeared to be made entirely of volcanic rocks and was in the middle of nowhere, separating nothing. It provided us with the opportunity to discuss human rights and capital punishment. Without prompting, Elise told me that she believes that even convicts should not be abused since they are already paying for their crimes by being locked up, and that we do not have the right to kill other human beings – even murderers. (Brava Elise! I am less certain about how society should punish child molesters/murderers).

But our visit to the island wasn’t all about heavy discussion. The next day, Elise tried body boarding for the first time. The surf was great and she managed to ride a few waves all the way to the shore. Since this is the precursor to surfing, her surfboarding cousin Nele will be proud!

As we sped away from Isabella, the shape of the island revealed itself. The day we’d arrived, there was heavy fog obscuring the coastline. Elise thought she’d caught a glimpse of mountains behind the clouds, but wasn’t sure. Indeed, we saw a giant, gently sloping volcano as we sped away, one of six that form Isabela’s seahorse shape. There were also smaller islands that came into view – strange, unfamiliar shapes that formed no pattern in my mind. How do the children growing up on Isabela view those same shapes? What stories do they have to describe them?

During the two-hour ride, I held Elise tightly on my lap because she felt a bit of seasickness. I was unable to write or listen to my university courses or read my Kindle as I usually do during commutes, so I spent the time thinking about what we’d experienced. I was pleased that Elise had had a number of firsts – snorkeling, body boarding, mountain biking – and that the island had offered a few terrific science lessons – tortoise breeding and conservation, the function of mangroves and coral, how life can take root on a barren volcanic rock in the middle of the ocean, daily rhythms of sea lions and iguanas, and how heritable traits may give offspring an advantage in a particular ecological niche (eg tortoises on the Galapagos developed especially long necks to be able to eat cacti). Elise had also learned a bit about history (European colonization), ethics, sociology (none of the merchants on the islands undercut the competition, and they refused to let newcomers invest in the island without first living there for two years), and even economics (given scarcity and the cost of transporting goods, prices were higher on the island). All good stuff.

I also reflected on the fact that I felt completely comfortable being tossed about by the waves – even though it sometimes felt like a roller coaster ride. I suffer from claustrophobia (made worse when confined spaces are crowded) and misophonia (eating noises, inane TV, etc), but not at all from motion sickness or aquaphobia, acrophobia, aviophobia (alektorophobia, consecotaleophobia, or arachibutyrophobia, lol), or anything else really, so with a wide view of the silvery sea and the roar of the waves drowning out any other sound, I found that I was extremely content and relaxed right up through our arrival back in Santa Cruz.

But now…my imagination is all fired up by the prospect of visiting the floating islands of Lake Titicaca, Peru!

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Santa Cruz Island, Galapagos

We finally made it to the Galapagos! We arrived at the airport on tiny Baltra island, took the ferry to the main island, Santa Cruz, and then the 40 min bus south to Puerto Ayora ($2! vs $25 taxi). Right away we saw some of the animals for which the Galapagos are famous – a blue-footed booby and manta ray in the harbor, marine iguanas sunning themselves on the sidewalks, a sea lion feasting on a fish in the mangroves, and pelicans hanging out at the fish market.

Later, we saw geckos and little birds at Casa de Lago, a charming cafe, where fruit salad, omelets and pancakes are served at rustic tables to jazz music. We took the time every morning to write in our beloved Leuchturm journals.

We also saw the tortoises at the Charles Darwin Research Station – little babies munching loudly on bright green stalks and giant, slow-moving adults.

The best surprise for Elise, however, was when a playful sea lion joined us while we were swimming in the bay at Las Grietas!

For me, the highlight was walking the long and winding trail through twisted scrub brush and towering cacti to Tortuga Bay, which has one of the most splendid beaches in South America. The current is quite strong, so I held Elise’s hand tightly while we let the warm waves wash over us again and again.

On our last day, we bought ferryboat tickets to Isabela Island and took our time strolling the main drag and peeking into shops. Elise loved the animal figurines and got a tiny tortoise and ceramic sea lion. I liked the t-shirts that made use of negative space to show manta rays and other marine life. Elise also tried (cooked) shrimp ceviche for the first time and liked it. We’re thinking of creating a cookbook with one special dish from each country we visit. Ceviche is now a contender, as is fish and yucca soup.

Elise drew her impressions of Santa Cruz with her character, Sunny (who’s part wolf), at our favorite cafe with floral vines, the darling little bird who begged at our table, a soft serve ice cream, palm tree, a sea lion and tortoise, and giant orange sunset.

On our last evening on the island, we joined the locals and tourists at the bustling strip of seafood restaurants with outdoor tables and had a filling plate of grilled fish and rice with sopa con queso (cheese soup). It was all rather pleasant, but after four days on Santa Cruz I felt a very strong urge to get away to a quieter, less developed place.

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Waiting in Quito to get to the Galapagos

It seems that the website for the local airline does not like foreign credit cards, so we returned to Quito to book our flights to the Galapagos in person at the Tame office. On the bus into town, instead of using Google Translate to attempt to ask a fellow passenger in Spanish where to exit, I used the lazy man’s method – Google Maps – to watch our bus make its way in real time to our neighborhood, La Mariscal. Worked like a charm. But after having spent more than a week in the mountains, it felt rather jarring being back in a big city. Still, it wasn’t a total waste of time because we succeeded in getting our tickets and, in the meantime, discovered a vegetarian restaurant with an extensive menu (The Maple), an Argentine restaurant, and one serving Brazilian and Surinamese dishes, as well as a fun coffee shop. The highlights included quinoa salad, traditional Ecuadoran soup with fish and yucca, grilled corn served with cheese and mayo, grilled chicken in a ginger sauce (which Eise was not keen to eat), and a terrific potato salad with green peas and pineapple. Delicioso! While we were in Quito, I also tried to find a pair of Craighoppers anti-mosquito trekking pants (mine are too loose, but after our culinary escapades, I’m guessing it’s because the fabric has stretched, lol), but none of the camping stores we visited carried them…so it’s off to Santa Cruz in super saggy pants.