Favela
Aug0
In Brazil a group of us at the hostel hired a guide to take us through the Rocinha favela in Rio de Janeiro. I was quite excited to see first hand the informal organic building practices that, although unsafe, create an amazing maze like spacial complexity. In addition I was interested in seeing the way space was used socially. Rocinha is the largest favela in Rio. Probably about 200,000 people live in small stacked houses and the entire area is controlled and protected by the ADA drug cartel.
A bus brought us to the bottom of the hill and then we each got on the back of motorcycles to take us up the narrow streets that snake up into the favela. Without a helmet, riding in the rain (sorta felt like I was underwater), I was glad to make it safely to the top. Small kids with radios were on the sides of the street alerting those inside of our approach. The entrance is guarded with boys, mostly 16-18. The leader is evidently only 23 years old. Actually the guide told us that 23 is quite old for a drug lord and probably will not live much longer. Nevertheless he runs a 4 million dollar operation. It sounds quite glamorous be in reality the drug lord has little to spend his money on besides guns and more drugs. He cannot own a car or build a big house. He cannot leave the favela as he is both it’s king and it’s prisoner. Ever week he moves to a different location for safety. Probably not police or even the secret police but from other gangs and perhaps his own people. Police do not enter the favela. So as we passed through the entrance zone we were now under the protection of 18 year old boys of the ADA.
The corridors were narrow and filled with parasitic electrical wires, internet and small plastic water lines. At every turn there was a new little shop. A market here, a barbershop. We stopped at a bakery and I bought an interesting cake/cookie thing; quite tasty. Little kids tried to sell there bracelets made of copper electrical wire. Up some stairs above a market was an elementary school.
The most valuable land is at the top as trash flows downhill. The lower we got the more you could smell the rubbish, the more it was pilled up alongside the walking paths and stairs. Property is first come first serve so to speak. People build on what is available. Roof rights are sold with the knowledge that the person who builds on top of you will in turn sell their roof rights to build on top of both houses. An amazing experience. If only I could get an address for that bakery.
The magazine stand
Jul1
In Lima the magazine stand is in front of the cafe I have been taking breakfast in for the past few days. The small temporary structure is decorated in its ephemeral wares of magazines and dissolvable candy. From the sidewalk to the roof, on all four sides, colors and images cover the stand in a graphical collage of information. Inside behind a square opening a small man stares. Perhaps everyday new material arrives and replaces the old, one by one, until the end of the month when the entire facade has changed over.
As people pass going about their lives they pause and look, searching. The magazine man watches them and I watch them. They scan the covers with images of captivating beauty and information. Looking for something to hold onto or that holds onto them. But nothing takes. For it is just a passing gesture. The information will change tomorrow, and if not tomorrow the next day. And even if it does change won´t it still be mostly the same. Nevertheless the stand is captivating, turning busy people into rubbernecks.
A moment of knowledge passes but their dreams continue.
More strikes!
Jul1
I guess I should count myself lucky. Up until now I was able to bypass many of the strikes in Peru. However on my way to Lima our bus was stopped at 3 am for a strike just outside of a small village that you can´t even find on a map. Bon fires and rocks covered the street. Our bus remained on the road for about 16 hours before we were allowed to pass. Different groups tried to make plans to cross the stike line but we found that the locals were throwing stones at people who tried to pass. Honestly, who throws stones these days? So we remained stuck. Locals ferried some food up from the village so we could have water and some bread. Our entertainment was conversation. The weather was
warm and sunny. In any other situation it may have well been enjoyable. But when you are stuck somewhere against your will, it is very difficult to enjoy the moment. Converstations are forced and are mostly just complaining. You cannot relax as you are worried about how long will I be here, will the bus turn back, will I miss my flight….the uncertainty makes the prison so much more difficult. Makes you really wonder about the psychology of being held captive vs. being in jail. Where is my power animal? The bus arrived in Lima at 5 am after a total of 29 hours.
Machu Picchu
Jul0
day before overlooking Machu Picchu (behind the clouds)
The last day of the trek was the ancient mountain top city of Machu Picchu and hiking up the small neighboring mountain of Winna Picchu. The site is magnificent. Pictures really don´t do it justice. Well, at least with my camera which is now mostly broken. (I have to physically pull out the lens and focus it with the zoom in and zoom out button.) Completely surrounded by jagged mountains and misty clouds that rise from below, Machu Pichhu seems to be on the tip of the tougue of dragon, protected by teeth.
stairs are relative
Macchu Picchu is top right.
After the tour we all sorta passed out on a terrace that was perhaps planted with vegetables and soaked up the sun in a similar fashion. Machu Picchu many say was a vacation spot for an Incan king so we decided it was fitting to take some time to relax and take in the views.
Salkantay Mountain
Jul0
I am recovering in Cusco, my lungs heavy with fluid, after a 5 day trek up the side of the great protector, Salkantay mountain, then down into the jungle and up to Machu Picchu. The trip was spectacular.
There was a group of 10 foriegners. 2 guides, 4 horsemen, 6 porters and 1 cook. A German friend, Max, I had met previously in San Pedro de Atacama. Our banter of friendly insults and country bashing quickly made us great friends and was a source of entertainment for the other travelers throughout the trip.
Angry German
Cusco is at an elevation of 10,900 feet. Our journey started not on the original Inca Trail but an alternative less traveled route that was used by the last of the Inca empire to escape the Spanish. Now it has been expanded to connect a few small towns for trade and more recently has become a path for treking to Machu Picchu. The first couple days were hiking up over the moutain pass of Salkantay.
For energy many of us bought and sucked on Coca leaves like chewing tobacco. Taking a small amount of dried leaves (same plant that is used to make cocaine) we rolled the leaves and placed them between the lip and the gum. While hiking it sort of tasted like tea while releasing small amouts of stimulants. Traditionally the leaves are rolled around a small black rock to help break down the leaves faster. Coca leaves have been an important part of Incan culture and continue to be used in tea and sucked on in large wads by porters and rural farmers througout this area.
leaving camp on the first night
This first night was horrifically cold, well below freezing. The zipper on my sleeping bag that I rented broke and I spent the night on my chest desperately trying to hold the sleeping bag closed. In the morning I woke up sore and sick. It rained all night. After a bit of coca tea I packed up and we were off up to the pass. The mountain pass now had a fresh blanket of snow.
Our group was quite young and everyone was in good shape. We hiked at a pretty fast clip for not being weighted down by a lot of gear. Tents and food and extra clothing was carried by the horses. Each step towards the top of the pass required an additional breath of thin air. Hail greeted us as we climbed to our final elevation of around 15,100 ft.
On the second day we dropped down into the cloud forest. Wet due to the rain the trail was muddy. The trail was narrow and quickly dropped off to a river far below. As the sun started to set behind the mountains we lost two horses over the side of the cliff. I did not see them go but one must have slipped and the other, tied together, fell to their deaths into the jungle. I joined the porters in climbing down the vegetated cliff to recover some of the luggage and supplies from the horses. Holding on to vines and roots we formed a relay line along the cliff and slowly transfered everything to the top.
Cusco, Heart of the Inca Empire
Jul0
Last week I arrived in Cusco, the heart of the Inca Empire. The name literally means navel of the earth. oUnlike Arequipa which is a white city Cusco has earth toned stone and mud brick. When the Spanish came to Cusco they leveled all of the Incan architecture and built on top of Incan stone foundations. Much of the stone work is still visable, big and quite beautiful. No one quite knows how they were able to cut the stone with such precision.
view from Loki
I am staying at a commune. Okay so it is really a hostel but people don´´t leave. Honestly… The Loki hostel is a old colonial masion that was beautifully restored and overlooks the city of Cusco. It is the biggest hosel that I have been in. There must be 150+ people here and it is always full. People work here for free lodging. The bar and restaurant work on a tab system, there are beautiful courtyards with hammocks and there is always a party with live music and dancing. I could get used to this.
Strikes and Friends
Jul0
I have been stuck in Arequipa for the past few days due to strikes in which the people block the main roads somewhere between two cities. People have been stuck on the road for 6 hours only to then have to be turned back. Some people had to walk through and then wait in the middle of nowhere for another bus. One group told me when they were turned back another road block formed behind them so they were locked in. They set up bon fires in the middle of the road and move large rocks to cover the surface to close the roads down. In any event I have packed up and tried to leave the city just to find out that I have another night in Arequipa. I have a new ticket for tonight but the irony is now that I may finally be able to leave, I don´t want to go. I have made some really good friends here in Arequipa. 3 nights perhaps is not so difficult but once I push a week with friends I wonder whether I will find such cool people in the next town. Nevertheless I am leaving my travel up to fate. Another strike could start up and then I will have one more night in Arequipa!
TORRO TORRO!
Jul0
Went to a bullfight with hostel friends. Couch surfers but that is another story. In this bullfight the bulls were not killed. They fought against each other which, unlike a human adversary who is quite threatening, the bulls needed to be persuaded to fight each other. They were each brought into the ring amidst much cheering from the local crowd. But then they just sorta hung out. Not until the men pulled them together or gave their testicles a kick did things really start moving. Ridiculous but a great time having beers and meeting local people here in Arequipa.
Arequipa
Jul0
Arequipa is Peru´s second largest city but like San Diego, the downtown has a very small town feel. The Spanish Architecture and Monasteries here are quite beautiful. The setting is surrounded by Volcanoes. This place has been plagued by earthquakes and evidently many people (girls I think mostly) were sacrificed to the gods. Many buildings include some beautiful volcanic rock called sillar.
Border Crossing and Visas (story time)
Jul1
Sometimes being on the road is great. Looking out the window seeing the world pass by while relaxing perhaps with a book. But then, there are the other times. Although maybe, maybe at the least more interesting.
From the desert I decided to venture north to Peru for warmer weather.
Many friends headed east into the Bolivian Salt flats. Although it did sound amazing and seeing Bolivia too for that matter. The city of La Paz, biking the Death Road and all the adventure that comes with Bolivia sounds very inviting but I won´t be able to make it this trip. I can only afford one $100 visa and my trip will mostly like end with Brazil.
The visa process takes a couple days and only Americans have to deal with this. The reason is due I am told because of our difficult visa policies for Bolivians and Brazilians traveling to the US. Of course it is difficult for all South Americans and Central Americans alike, just Brazil and Bolivia are pissed off enough sacrifice a certain amount of US tourism. Everyone else accepts the inequality I guess. The truth is not many Americans travel anyway compared to the traveling cultures of Europe and Australia.
I digress.
The overnight bus. Okay so most of the time this is fine. But the bus from San Pedro was a nightmare. I had a window seat. It is easy to sleep against. But then this huge man comes on board. And yes, sits next to me. Which is fine except for the snoring. The very loud snoring. Which is incidently right next to you. Breathing on you. Whispering loud snorings into your face. Did I mention that he fell alseepinstantly (after he ate a sandwich in one bite) And then for some reason the heat was blasting. The only way I could survive was pressing my face against the cold glass window. Everyone else seemed to be just fine. I thought perhaps I was hallucinating. I had a fever. I´m burning up. How could no one else be upset about this. I mean there were people with blankets wrapped around them and I am ready to strip down and pour my precious water on my head. Sometime in the morning the heat shut off and the temp dropped back down. I arrived in Arica. The border town to Peru.
I knew that we needed to cross in a cab but this guy from Denmark and these two English kids were with me and this bus company was selling tickets to Arequipa, Peru. The bus driver told us that there was one leaving at 0700am which was in 10 mins. So we decided it sounded like a good plan. The guy from Denmark asked about the bus to Lima. The bus guy said, (granted in spanish) The bus for Lima also leaves in 10 mins. This should of been a sign but well, we were all delirious from the hallucinating spirit sauna bus we just got off. We bought the tickets, which were not tickets at all. A piece of paper with our destination written on it. Arequipa. Suckers. The bus guy introduces us to our driver, Dragonball Z. All of us squish into the taxi colorfully decorated with DragonballZ stickers. Basically we all decide that we just bought an expensive cab ride. Dragonball Z blasts 80s music that is sampled for 1minute. 1min Tina Turner, 1 min UB40, you get the picture. The sun is rising and we drive off through the desert. At least we can roll down the window and get fresh air so even though we all know we are getting ripped off we are in good spirits and sing 80s music much to the amusement of Dragonball. But Dragonball takes us through the boarder where we get out walk our stuff through and then get back into the cab. Any minute we thought this guy would leave us. But he didn´t. He brought us to the bus station in Tacna, Peru. Then he made us stay outside (no peeking!) while he bought us tickets. We were amazed. Although it would have maybe been cheaper to take the cab and then buy bus tickets ourselves we were pleased that at least we were getting a bus. And it was leaving in 10 mins. Crazy. This never happens.
We then rushed to catch the bus. A budget bus. A budget bus that did not have a toilet. And I, not having yet been on any bus without a toilet proceeded to hydrate (as I was still recovering from the previous 14hour sauna death trip). After about 5 hours I was about to explode. I was trying to figure out how to explain in spanish the importance of this problem. We stopped in various towns (slow cheap bus) to pick up passengers and for passengers to buy local foodstuffs -breads, sodas, empanadas but everytime i got off there was no banyo. Happy thoughts, where is my power animal?. But the bus driver soon caught on so he said next stop. Is that was he said? Next stop was in the middle of the desert. He comes and gets me and I (the only one) walks into the desert. And I piss with the entire bus watching. I tried to figure out how I wanted to stand for this performance. Do I put my hand on my hip or just let it hang by my side?
I´ve never had an audience.