Diarrhea and Thank You Cory
In a recent chat with my dear friend Cory, the only criticism he gave me for my blog was that I never put anything in it that is bad. I told him its because life is good in South America and nothing all that bad has happened. Well either he jinxed me, or I jinxed myself. So, here you go Cory. I hope this makes you happy.
A group of seven set off for three days of trekking in the Yungas, six hours southwest of La Paz, a spectacular descent from close to 15,000 ft into a lush jungle basin, but only four got to trek. Lebn, his cousin Sadie, two French girls, an Israeli, a Colombiana, and I woke up with the sun on Thursday to board an old Blue Bird bus for the six-hour drive to the small town of Chunavi, the starting point of the Yunga-Cruz trek. The road was dirt for most of the journey, cut into the sides of the steep and rocky mountains. At one point the driver had to open the door to watch the tires skirting along the edge of the road, to keep us from falling off the cliff, into the valley below. The occasional creeks that we crossed, running through the middle of the road, made it easy to imagine how easily these roads get washed out.
But the scenery was spectacular and when we arrived at our destination, we were truly in the clouds. And its really hard to see in the clouds. It was recommended by the locals that we wait until morning before setting out, and we´ve discovered in our travels, that it is generally fairly wise to heed the advice of the locals. The visibility was nil, we were barely able to see 10 feet in front of us at times, but when the fog parted, the views were spectacular. But the locals recommended that we wait until the next day before setting off as the trail could be dangerous under such conditions. Luckily there was a place that could accommodate all of us for a more than reasonable price. So we hung out, played cards, and went to sleep. Most of us slept. I couldn´t quite get there, and in the morning, felt like a warmed over pile of hell poop.
After much debate - internal and with the group - it was decided that I should return to La Paz in the care of the two French girls, while the rest continued on the trek. I felt bad that they should miss the trek too, but they insisted that I shouldn´t go alone, and as one of them is a registered nurse, I couldn´t really argue now, could I?
So four went trekking (pictures to come) and three went back to La Paz. And the bad luck kept on coming. We were told the bus would arrive at 2 p.m., but at 8 p.m., we were still waiting, huddled in a blanket to protect us from the frigid mountain air, when some locals took pity on us and invited us into a room by the road where we could still hear the bus coming and gave us coffee. Not the best thing for my ailing stomach, but I was too cold to care. And just as we finished our coffee, and a lovely conversation, the bus arrived. And it was totally full. Not a single seat. In my country, this would have meant that we couldn´t get on the bus. But not in Bolivia. We rode the entire 6 hours back to La Paz on sacks of potatoes that had been stacked up in the middle of the aisle. I´ve had more comfortable bus rides.
But the bad luck ends there. We made it to La Paz late, but I was already starting to feel better, and we spent the next few days hanging out with some friends in their place in El Alto of La Paz for free, waiting for the others to return. It was relaxing and I started to feel better pretty quickly.
After Lebn returned, the French nurse and I headed for Copacabana on Lake Titicaca, and Lebn stayed behind in La Paz to have a mock Nils Pol hat made. The more fabric he cuts out of it, the more he seems to like it. Its a little light, but you can spin it on your finger. He met us and others there the next day, and Lebn, the two French girls and I spent four days on Isla del Sol. It was so refreshing. We found a place to stay with a guy named Alphonso and his family, who kept insisting that it wasn´t a hotel, but our house, and we should pay whatever we felt like when we left. We cooked over wood fires, and enjoyed a breathtaking view high over a tranquil bay. We saw a beautiful sunrise from the island that the Incas said the Sun was born on and beautiful sunsets every night. Lebn and I hiked to the northernmost part of the island for a sunset one night, and walked home by the light of the full moon, passing Incan ruins on the way. It was all pretty amazing.
And now we´re in Peru. We took four or five different modes of transportation to get us to a town called Arequipa. We´re here because the world´s two deepest canyons are nearby and we plan to get in them for a few days of hiking. I´ll write about them soon, Mom. No frantic emails about where I am, okay? I´m sorry this post was so long in the making. I´ve been distracted, and Internet has been more than I cared to pay. It won´t happen again.
A group of seven set off for three days of trekking in the Yungas, six hours southwest of La Paz, a spectacular descent from close to 15,000 ft into a lush jungle basin, but only four got to trek. Lebn, his cousin Sadie, two French girls, an Israeli, a Colombiana, and I woke up with the sun on Thursday to board an old Blue Bird bus for the six-hour drive to the small town of Chunavi, the starting point of the Yunga-Cruz trek. The road was dirt for most of the journey, cut into the sides of the steep and rocky mountains. At one point the driver had to open the door to watch the tires skirting along the edge of the road, to keep us from falling off the cliff, into the valley below. The occasional creeks that we crossed, running through the middle of the road, made it easy to imagine how easily these roads get washed out.
But the scenery was spectacular and when we arrived at our destination, we were truly in the clouds. And its really hard to see in the clouds. It was recommended by the locals that we wait until morning before setting out, and we´ve discovered in our travels, that it is generally fairly wise to heed the advice of the locals. The visibility was nil, we were barely able to see 10 feet in front of us at times, but when the fog parted, the views were spectacular. But the locals recommended that we wait until the next day before setting off as the trail could be dangerous under such conditions. Luckily there was a place that could accommodate all of us for a more than reasonable price. So we hung out, played cards, and went to sleep. Most of us slept. I couldn´t quite get there, and in the morning, felt like a warmed over pile of hell poop.
After much debate - internal and with the group - it was decided that I should return to La Paz in the care of the two French girls, while the rest continued on the trek. I felt bad that they should miss the trek too, but they insisted that I shouldn´t go alone, and as one of them is a registered nurse, I couldn´t really argue now, could I?
So four went trekking (pictures to come) and three went back to La Paz. And the bad luck kept on coming. We were told the bus would arrive at 2 p.m., but at 8 p.m., we were still waiting, huddled in a blanket to protect us from the frigid mountain air, when some locals took pity on us and invited us into a room by the road where we could still hear the bus coming and gave us coffee. Not the best thing for my ailing stomach, but I was too cold to care. And just as we finished our coffee, and a lovely conversation, the bus arrived. And it was totally full. Not a single seat. In my country, this would have meant that we couldn´t get on the bus. But not in Bolivia. We rode the entire 6 hours back to La Paz on sacks of potatoes that had been stacked up in the middle of the aisle. I´ve had more comfortable bus rides.
But the bad luck ends there. We made it to La Paz late, but I was already starting to feel better, and we spent the next few days hanging out with some friends in their place in El Alto of La Paz for free, waiting for the others to return. It was relaxing and I started to feel better pretty quickly.
After Lebn returned, the French nurse and I headed for Copacabana on Lake Titicaca, and Lebn stayed behind in La Paz to have a mock Nils Pol hat made. The more fabric he cuts out of it, the more he seems to like it. Its a little light, but you can spin it on your finger. He met us and others there the next day, and Lebn, the two French girls and I spent four days on Isla del Sol. It was so refreshing. We found a place to stay with a guy named Alphonso and his family, who kept insisting that it wasn´t a hotel, but our house, and we should pay whatever we felt like when we left. We cooked over wood fires, and enjoyed a breathtaking view high over a tranquil bay. We saw a beautiful sunrise from the island that the Incas said the Sun was born on and beautiful sunsets every night. Lebn and I hiked to the northernmost part of the island for a sunset one night, and walked home by the light of the full moon, passing Incan ruins on the way. It was all pretty amazing.
And now we´re in Peru. We took four or five different modes of transportation to get us to a town called Arequipa. We´re here because the world´s two deepest canyons are nearby and we plan to get in them for a few days of hiking. I´ll write about them soon, Mom. No frantic emails about where I am, okay? I´m sorry this post was so long in the making. I´ve been distracted, and Internet has been more than I cared to pay. It won´t happen again.
posted by Zackataca at 2:20 PM
1 Comments:
The worst thing that has happened to you is you got a tummy ache and had to be cared for by french girls? Not what I was looking for.
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