Into the Jungle, Part II

After leaving Lago Agrio, we rode in another bus for 3 hours until we reached the end of the road, where was a small house. We ate lunch while the Italians in our group were filming and photographing the children who lived there as if they were animals in a zoo. The amount of equipment they had with them was astounding, and one lady filmed the whole trip from start to finish. I think she was so busy filming that she forgot to actually see our surroundings. Then we continued in a long canoe-like boat for another 2 and a half hours. As you can see from the photo, it was a very wet ride.

Finally, we arrived at the lodge. While built in the local rustic style, it had hammocks, individual rooms, comfy mattresses, hot water for tea and hot chocolate... we weren't exactly roughing it. The weather was perfectly pleasant and there weren't many mosquitos on the river or in the lodge, only during the jungle walks. All the discomforts that the word "jungle" brings to mind simply didn't exist.

The first night, we went on a night walk to see the insects. There were grasshoppers, walking sticks, katydids, and all manner of very impressive and large bugs. Of course, each new discovery was heralded by the probing faces of the Italians' cameras and the continuous flashing as they snapped picture after picture. It was quite a comical sight, the paparazzi jostling for position to photograph a tiny insect.

Over the trip we saw macaws, toucans, dolphins, and five different types of monkeys! The one in the picture, Liana, used to be a pet but was rescued by the organization and now lives in the reserve. Monkeys are still hunted by the local people, both to eat and to be sold as pets.

Liana, eating her third banana and not slowing down 

While the days were filled with sightseeing and swimming in the river (a bit nerve-wracking for the men because of the dreaded penis fish that will swim up the urethra), it was the nights that were really enchanting. After dinner, we would play cards with the guides, exchange dirty vocabulary, and throw back a beer or two. Our guide, Jacob (ha-KOHB) gave me a henna tattoo of an iguana on my arm. One night, there was a concert, with the guides playing traditional music on an old, warped guitar with a water jug for a drum. Another night, someone bought a bottle of rum and we all sat around in the candlelight, joking and drinking. One by one people drifted off to their cabins, but I stayed up with Jacob and another guide until late, discussing Ecuadorian politics and jungle life while sipping punta, the jungle hooch made from sugar cane.

Every night, lying in bed or in the hammock, I would listen to the jungle concert and stare up at the stars. Out here, there was no rush. One could simply enjoy the sounds of the night insects, breathe deeply, and feel the stresses of life slipping away.

Our jungle family

The sun was hot and high in the sky when we set out for the last time in the boat. The giant trees along the banks and the birds dipping around the branches seemed even more beautiful now that we were leaving. Further up the river, trucks and barges and oil refineries began to appear, and the magic was over. It was time to return.

Into the Jungle, Part I

In the book "Abroad," the author laments the death of "travel" on the order of Ernest Hemingway and Robert Byron, which has been replaced by tourism. Perhaps nowhere is this more observable than South America, where hordes of gringos are shuttled to this place and that, and hundreds of thousands of people earn their living from this industry.

When Brian and I decided to go to the depths of the primary rainforest in Ecuador, it seemed a good way to escape from this, however briefly. However, as rugged as it may sound, it's still tourism through and through: meals and drinking water provided, bilingual guide, cabins with comfortable mattresses, tight itinerary.

The first leg of our journey was a night bus from Quito to the oil town of Lago Agrio, 7 hours away. The bus left at 11 P.M. and we promptly set about finding a comfortable position to attempt some sleep. About an hour away from Quito, I was drowsing when there was a scraping noise and a BOOM! The bus began tilting, tilting... People were shouting, shaken from their sleep, and for a single impossibly long moment, we were perfectly balanced, suspended between two eventualities. I had enough time to think, This is it, this is where it all ends. And then we shifted the other way, all wheels landing firmly back on the ground. Everyone was awake now, staring straight ahead, and the bus rolled on in shocked silence.

After that incident, we soberly continued on our way, but now there was an odd sound coming from under the bus. We pulled over, and all the men filed off the bus to have a look and offer their opinions (and also to urinate). Brian went over to talk to one of the men.

Brian: "Is it the transmission? Transmission no bueno?"
Man: "Transmission, yes."
B: "Fuck."
M: "Yes, fuck. A fuck and a shit!"

At that point, it was midnight and we were off the road somewhere an hour from Quito, and it was pitch black all around. Somehow the only thing I could think about was whether we would get our money back if we didn't make it to Lago Agrio by morning. Luckily, it turned out to be only the exhaust pipe dragging (probably shaken loose by our earlier acrobatics). After it was fixed, we once again continued toward the jungle.

Sometime around dawn, after a night of restless sleep, we pulled into the ugly frontier town of Lago Agrio. Although not much to look at, it was a beautiful sight for us.

Lago Agrio

Although today we will return to being tourists, last night on that bus there were no tourists, only travelers. It's not an experience that I would wish on others, but I feel that at least I have had a little adventure, a story to tell. Of course, I hope the rest of our trip goes more smoothly. Part II to come in a few days when we are out of the jungle.

The Real Machu Picchu

It's practically obligatory for tourists in Peru to see Machu Picchu, and with good reason. The view of it from above is breathtaking; the stonework and engineering is incredible; and the imposing mountain of Huayna Picchu presides over this Inca citadel like a majestic guardian. Machu Picchu truly deserves to be named a "wonder of the world."

 And yet, the view today is not the one seen by Hiram Bingham when a few local farmers brought him up to the ruins. (And no, he did not "discover" Machu Picchu; it was familiar to many Peruvians for at least decades before he stepped foot there.) There are ropes delineating a path which must be followed at all times; if you step outside the boundary, one of the ubiquitous guards will blow his whistle and shepherd you back to the path. On the backside of the ruins, you can see the hydroelectric plant which provides power to the town of Aguas Calientes, the base for exploring the ruins. Ladders and other tools used for repairs can be seen among the buildings. Most of all, however, are the tourists swarming over every surface, 3,000 per day in the high season. People talk about the energy of the place, the tranquility and connection they feel to the original inhabitants. As I watched the tourists crawling over the temples and terraces, with their cameras around their necks and hats emblazoned with "Machu Picchu" (which were probably made in China), I couldn't help but feel as if I were in a zoo.

Of course, I fully realize that I was one of those tourists with the camara around my neck (although I would never wear one of those hats). It's a place worth seeing, and many people want to see it. I offer no solutions, only my observations. Now, onto specific details!

It's possible to climb the mountains of Machu Picchu and Huayna Picchu; however, this costs extra, must be reserved in advance, and is not for the faint of heart. Instead, Brian and I opted for the climb to Inti Punku, the Sun Gate, which is the entrance from the Inca Trail. It was no picnic, but worth the climb. The view is great, it's very relaxing, and not too many tourists bother to climb all the way up. Of course, while relaxing, I had the horrible realization that I had left my purse somewhere along the trail. Brian gallantly retraced our steps to about halfway down, recovered the purse, and hiked back up. Phew. 

The view from Inti Punku

After that, we visited the Inca Bridge, another less-traveled route. While it wasn't terribly impressive, it was a nice respite from the tourist hordes, and offered a view of the backside of the mountain, including the hydroelectric plant. 

After spending all day there, we were exhausted. I don't know how the people arriving from the Inca trail have any energy to hike up all the steps there are after 4 days of walking. Machu Picchu is actually lower than Cusco, though at around 3,000 meters, it's still a struggle.

Overall, I would say that Machu Picchu is still quite impressive despite being one of the prime tourist attractions in the world. If you go, don't expect tranquility and photos devoid of other people. Oh, and expect to pay a lot of money; this certainly put a dent in our budget!

Peru is ridiculous sometimes

Peru is a beautiful country with warm-hearted, wonderful people, and I would recommend that anyone with the time and resources visit this country. That said, there are times when Peru is ridiculous. Here are some examples, handily broken down into categories:

The people

1. The combi lady

The combis in Lima are small minivans packed to the gills with people, regardless of the hour. The cries of "Avanzen al fondo! Avanzen por favor!" ("Move back") mix with the smell of twenty people's sweat and the blaring of horns. One evening, I was quite squished and noticed a lady with about 2 feet of room behind her. I politely asked her to move back, to which she rudely replied, "I'm getting off soon. Go around." Unfortunately, that was quite impossible and I spent a very uncomfortable rest of the ride. My stop was 15 minutes away, and I still got off before her. Sadly, this attitude is not uncommon in Lima.

2.  The parents

Peruvians drink a LOT of soft drinks. This is a problem in and of itself, but what shocked me is the number of small children I've seen being given soft drinks - at night, in the morning, in the baby bottle, when they're crying, when they're happy. It's quite a sight to see a baby sipping electric-yellow cola from a baby bottle. Yikes.

3.  The driver

The ride from Huanta to Ayacucho is about an hour by colectivo (small van). Our large backpacks were thrown into the bin on top, and the driver assured us that they would be securely tied down. (They had been the last time.) The van began to move, and neither Brian nor I could remember him tying anything. So I asked the driver if they had been tied down. He says, "Yeah, yeah, don't worry." Hm. About 10 minutes later, Brian frantically shouted at the driver to stop the van (in Spanish) as I saw half my backpack hanging over the side! Luckily, the whole van was on our side, and we were able to strap them to the bin and reprimand the driver.

Animals on buses

1.You brought what on board? (pt. 1)

Well, this is the only one in this category, but I have seen a llama being shoved kicking into the cargo bin under the bus, a kitten on the winding, 13-hour mountain road from Ayacucho to Abancay, and a FERRET that (thankfully) got on a different bus than mine. I can only imagine.

Transportation

1. You brought what on board? (pt. 2)

Winding mountain roads. Open paint cans. They don't mix.

2. The bait and switch

We arrived in Andahuaylas at 3 A.M. and were waiting for our second bus at 6:30 to Abancay. AT 4:45, a bus pulls up and the man on duty shouts "Cusco! Cusco, 6:30!" Confused, everyone looks around, looks at each other, and asks the man about five more times if this is correct. He assures us it is. So, we begin the process of getting everyone loaded, which takes a long time because everyone here carries TONS of stuff and somehow can't seem to understand that seat 16 is not, indeed, seat 17. Finally, after all the fuss, the man boards the bus and says we all have to get off because he made a mistake and this is the wrong bus. So, we get off the bus, repeat the process on the next bus, and board, only to discover that IT'S THE EXACT SAME TYPE OF BUS. Both buses in the terminal at the same time. Both of the same type. Why did we have to switch? Because Peru is ridiculous sometimes.