All Over and Just Beginning

So this final entry was meant to take place on my last night in Lima, but due to two separate and dysfunctional internet cafe's (perfectly typical), it has had to wait until my arrival. So now I write to you, freshly showered and clean, from my beloved and comfy home in Seattle. And how nice it is.

The last day of my trip I spent in Lima, in the same hotel as my very first night as a matter of fact. I was very much anticipating going home, but was also reflecting on the past four months. How was I different from the Owen that left Seattle 124 days before, if at all? What had I learned? How had I grown? All big questions to answer to myself.

There is one thing I am sure of. Like Socrates said - "One thing only I know, and that is that I know nothing."

All I have seen and learned in a way has expanded my world to an overwhelming size, and shown me how much more there is to experience out there. I feel older, but at the same time younger than ever. Like I'm at the beginning of something, and this trip was only the first few steps in another journey much grander. But all I have is an inkling, a feeling of things to come, not a clue as to what they are, or where they will take me.

So that's the big picture of what's going on in my head, but there are other things this trip has given me besides a sort of dumb-struck awe and confusion. A love and closeness to South America is one. The people, the culture, the history - just the beauty of something different and wonderful. Getting to a new town, chatting with the cab driver en route to the hostal, taking that first walk around the plaza; I grew to love this routine, and how unroutine it was to the life I knew. I learned to never trust directions from a South American, always pack some toilet paper in your back pocket, and that there is nothing tougher than a 70-year old Peruvian woman. I am more independent now, more confident and more thankful. We are all very fortunate to have the things we do, and I've attained a higher awareness and a feeling of responsibility to capitalize on my opportunities.

I don't want to really milk my brain right now, and no doubt I will continue to realize the lessons I've learned as I'm challenged in different ways in the future. But for now I'm happy knowing I had a hell of an experience and I've got three months home with family before I need to worry about anything again.

Please let me know what you've thought of my blog, I enjoy reading your comments as much as you hopefully enjoy mine. And stay tuned - perhaps Europe or Africa next?

Last day, can you find me?

Uyuni and Beyond

In the southwest corner of Bolivia, touching the border of Chile, there lies the world´s largest salt flat, Salar de Uyuni. It covers over 4,000 sq feet of land, and every inch is white crunchy salt. Here we started our three day tour. Well first we stopped at this cool train graveyard, which deserves mention and a picture I guess.

Not choo-chooin anywhere soon

Anyways, THEN we set off in our trusty Toyota Landcruiser 4x4, in a direction I could only assume the driver knew, and soon saw nothing but salt all around us. The nuttiest landscape I´ve ever laid eyes on. The sun shines bright both from above and reflecting off the salt below, so sunglasses are a neccesity. We stopped at a hotel a little ways in made entirely of salt bricks.

Dining room in the salt palace

We drove for another hour or so, and sometimes the driver would just turn around and answer questions with neither his eyes on the road or his hands on the wheel. Disconcerting but harmless. Later we stopped at a weird cactus island in the middle of nothing for lunch and some dopey pictures.

Nick crushing me like a bug

I hereby declare Korea will never run out of salt

All that salt and whiteness can make a man go LOCO

After we were through the flats, we continued onto some caves, which used to be underwater so they had all these cool petrified leaf formations, and then further on to crazier rock formations.

Next to a rock cactus

Riding a rock waveAnd of course the famous rock tree - unreal.

The next couple days were driving around, seeing pastel-brown mountains, glacial blue, green and red lakes with flamingos, feature-less deserts, and freezing our little piggies off at night 15,000 feet high.Me in front of the Mountain of Seven Colors

Pretty bird

The best sunset I´ve ever seen

On the morning of the last day we visited some geysers, but I couldn´t get any good pictures because it was before sunrise. If I could post the stench of sulfur, it´d give you a better idea of what they were like. Then as the sun rose behind the mountains, we stopped at some hot springs for a dip and breakfast. The water was heaven, but only barely worth it when you had to return to the below-freezing air outside. Still a worthy end to an amazing tour. Can you believe those pictures?

Yeaaahhh baby

The crew before goodbyes - clockwise from top left - Sarah from Norway, Nick from Australia, Me, Eoin from Ireland, then Ludda and Johan, brothers from Sweden.

Festival in Macha

A brief warning: I´ve chosen not to show the more graphic pictures, but the material of the next entry might not be suitable for younger viewers and pregnant women. If you are lookin up at this screen, you are too young.

So from Potosí, the location of my last blog, I was planning on heading down to Argentina, but a different opportunity presented itself that I couldn´t pass up. It was a tour to the 500-year old Tinku festival in Macha, a one-horse town a few hours from Potosí. First a few shots of Macha itself.

The whole town was built of earth - this was one of the

more elegant mud-brick houses.

Sugar canes lined up for sale in the center

So we arrived on I forget what day, but in either case nothing happened for a good 48 hours. Our guide was quickly then perpetually drunk, so he was of no use, though later we learned he was showing us tradition through example. The only good quote I remember from him was, "I like the divorce." Half of our group (3 people of 5) got fed up with waiting and got a bus back the morning of the day festivities finally kicked off. Me and another Irish guy (named Owen as well, funny enough, but spelled Eoin) decided we weren´t goin anywhere till we saw what we came for. And boy did we.

Later that day, you could hear dynamite and the faint sound of pipes and singing coming in from the surrounding hills. Communities marched in from miles and miles all around, some traveling for two days by foot, the whole time playing music, dancing, and drinking. The empty little town of Macha was soon full to its limit with colorfully dressed drunk people dancing in cirlces and having a grand old time. That was the fun and tame part of the festival, but not the main reason many were there. That would be the fights.

Marching around the plaza

In front of the church tower, a big group of rowdy men kicked off the melee. This is how it works: there´s a mass of people who want to watch/participate in the fighting and a handful of policemen forming a ring in the center. They keep the crowd back with whips and pepper spray, while picking two equally-matched men from the crowd. These two men step in, or stumble in in many cases, and proceed to beat the living snot out of each other. No weapons, no protection, just a good bucket of some chicha alcohol to numb the pain. Not a lot of skill involved either, but lots of haymakers and a helluva lot of heart. The idea is the more blood spilt, the better the next harvest will be. Let me say I don´t think anyone will be starving with the next harvest.

The beginning of the fights

Your boy lands a good shot

The first day was crazy enough, but when our bus wasn´t full enough to leave that afternoon, we stayed for another day and saw things get really out of hand. It wasn´t just one fight at a time anymore. Three, four, five would break out at the same time and the police had to revert to using tear-gas to break up the crowd. I didn´t bring my camera out for obvious reasons. It started early in the morning, or rather was going all night. Even the women got into it, cat-fighting and pulling each others hair out. These bolivian women are something else. to be honest, it got a little scary, and Eoin and I were glad to get out when we did. I´ve never seen anything like it, just absolute madness. MADNESS I SAY

Pretty Potosí

Last Friday, I arrived in a quiet but pleasant town called Potosí. Wasn´t planning to stay long, but this mine tour I wanted to do wasn´t running till Monday, so I found myself in the well-rehearsed position of having nothing to do in a small town for a weekend. I ate well, did a lot of walking, saw the longest market street in the universe and checked out some local pubs. Definitely not a bad town to look at.

The entry to my hotelThe church at the end of my blockSome neighborhood boys playing in an alleyMe in my lonely room

Needless to say, after a few days of relaxing I was ready for a little excitement. In Potosí, mining is still a large part of their economy, with about 15,000 people still working the mines in the surrounding mountains. They´ve been at it since the 1500´s and at the current moment are enjoying some of the highest mineral prices in a long time. The specific mine we visited was in the mountain Cerro Ricco, which means something like Super Valuable Hill, according to this guy sitting next to me. Preparation included suiting up in a very worn-in mine-suit, visiting one of the refinery plants, and also picking up some goods at the Miner´s Market.

The refinery plant

Cerro Ricco, or as I like to call it - Bling Mountain!

We got coca leaves and soda for the miners, tried some of the traditional mining drink - 192 proof throat skinner - and picked up some dynamite for later. Our guide gave us a little background info, including the fact that the whole mountain was supposedly four years overdue for a massive collapse. Delightful! With that breath of confidence, we were ready to walk into some narrow dusty tunnels.

Multiple groups waiting to enter

Right off the bat, about 100 meters in, a couple of miners were riding a full cart (cart? what do you call those things?) of gravel out and derailed right in front of me, nearly losing their load and taking the bottom half of my body with it.

Straight outta Donkey Kong

Our group was comprised of all guys; young, eager, and perhaps a bit foolhardy, so our guide said we could have extra fun. His idea of fun was sending us on "challenges" where he´d give us directions and we´d have to crawl thru tiny spaces, climb wooden barriers and slide down mine chutes to meet him in another hot, cramped and dusty hole in the ground. We did all this, met some miners at work, and discussed the lack of oxygen - all taking about two hours. With our mouths sufficiently coated with dirt and various minerals and our shirts soaked through with sweat, we emerged from our personal hell into the bright cool outside. It was actually quite interesting, and I´ll admit a bit fun, to see how these people work and I now have a much greater appreciation of the everyday toil of miners around the world.

Me, England, and Ireland

At last, the grand finale - DYNO-MIIITE!!! We took out the dynamite we bought at the market, unraveled it (who knew dynamite was a green playdoh-like substance?), and prepared them in balls with their fuses, wrapped em paper, surrounded them with calcium somethinerother to make the explosion bigger, and wrapped it all again in a plastic bag. With short notice, the guide lit one guy´s fuse, and he used his fuse to one by one light all of ours, Fourth of July sparkle stick-style. We now had three minutes.

With the fuse lit

The guides took all the lit bundles and ran off into the hills screaming "BOMBA!!". They laid all of them out at a safe distance and ran back to the group. Everyone waited anxiously, and just as someone started to say, "Well where the heck -"

BOOM!!!!!!!!!

It wasn´t so visually spectacular as it was aural. The booms made it feel like, just for a second, your whole body was flattened in space before you bounced back to full form. We waited out seven of these massive charges and happily piled into the van to go back the Potosí. I absent-mindedly rubbed my eyes and felt the sweet burn of nitroglycerin as we returned. Coooool duuude

HAHAHA

i just realized i´m missing a crucial comma in the next entry, can you find where it should be? oh, and mina updated her trip summary on the hosomio blog, so check that again @ hosomio.blogspot.com
peace

I´M ALIIIIVE!!!

The Yungas road, a.k.a Death Road has been proclaimed the world´s deadliest. Indeed, in passing along this very road, one can see dozens of crosses standing testament to its steady diet of about 200-300 poor souls a year.

Behind the crosses - nothing, air for thousands of feet straight down. There was lots of talk about the Israeli guy who´d died only three weeks back.
So of course, tourists flock to La Paz every year to merrily ride bicycles down. Two days ago, I was one of them.
I found the cheapest agency I could and got picked up at 8 in the morning the next day. An hour drive brought us to a glacial lake where other agencies were unloading their gringos as well. There wasn´t a single native doing the ride, I can only guess they all know better. I strapped on my helmet, put on my orange and gray jumpsuit, and had some crackers. I couldn´t help but think, "These could be the last crackers I ever eat." I enjoyed them to the fullest and slapped myself.

The launching point

We started at above 5,000 meters. The first section was on a highway and all downhill, so i trailed the guide flying through the thin and frigid air.

The first part

We were doing that for about and hour and a half then ran into a few inclines. I´m proud to say I was one of the few to motor through only on bike, not walking or pussing out and getting in the bus. No pain no gain. Finally, we reached the fork in the road where the left continues on safely with comparitively soft-looking asphalt, and the right winds off into the mist and gravel. At that altitude, you´re basically always in a cloud, which was probably a blessing to blindfold us from the spine-tingling dropoff to our left.

Taking a break
A waterfall
A dramatic misty shot

We took the first part slowly, which nobody argued with since the path appeared to disappear a hundred feet ahead in the fog. The more we descended, the warmer and clearer it got. At last, when most of us had gained a little confidence on the bike, we began pushing the speed. The path widened and the dropoff was more of a slope, so I felt free to really let loose. I stuck to the guide and raced downhill. I got in a little silent competition with this German girl, who was a crazy horse beast, and we went neck and neck trying to keep up with the guide. Dust flew in my eyes and my butt, arms, and fingers ached like hell, but I was having the time of my life. I lost myself to the speed and adrenaline and the final hour was a blur. I do remember I beat Hitler though.

Me and Diego cooling off at the bottom

So in the end, it turned out to be much more fun than dangerous, in my opinion you´d have to be pretty foolish or incompetent to actually go over the edge. I know I´d do it again in an instant. It´s defintely been the highlight of my stay in La Paz, which has been nice all around. Here are some photos to serve as some cool-down viewing after that super-intense adventure blog.

Coming into La Paz, the view of the city from my bus
Look, Uma - in Bolivia, you´re bagged water! Cool!

Lone Ranger

Hello again everyone. I know it´s been some time, I´ve been waiting for Mina´s pictures and extra commentary just like you have. I´ve gotten word to expect it soon. After her departure, I hung out in Lima for a few days waiting for my camera to be fixed AGAIN. I met some cool Swedish guys my age staying at the hostel, Oscar, Marcus, and Carlos, so we went to the zoo and generally hung out. The night before the zoo though, I had this really vivid premonitional dream of getting eating alive by snakes and pumas, both of which I saw in the flesh the next day. Oogy boogey, I know. Anyways, the next day I went on my own to look for second-hand English novels but only managed to find the 1987 edition of the Guiness Book of World Records and The Hobbit among a bunch of romance crap. Did you know the fattest man ever lived on Bainbridge Island, right next to Seattle, and weighted like 1200 pounds? They treated him at UW Medical center, starved him basically for two years then he gained 200 lbs in two weeks immediately after being released. HAHA my god. But I digress.
So after that book hunt I went to Lima´s black market, which any normal shopper couldn´t tell apart from a proper shopping mall, I´m talking escalators and fountains and everything. Until you see the rock bottom prices and entire aisles devoted to not-so-wholesome viewing material. So there I picked up some much-needed CD´s and some black market Toblerone. Later that night these two German sisters who I volunteered with in Ayacucho randomly popped up in my hostel, completely unplanned, so we were happy to see each other and went out for some dindin.
The next day I caught a bus to Arequipa, which I´d seen already but seemed a good spot to split up the journey into Bolivia. And on the bus I got the entire front row on the second story, so I could lounge my little heart out and watch the road rush by underneath me.
Yesterday´s highlight around town was a steak and cheese sandwich which was unlike anything I´ve had this trip, and by the beard of Zeus, only two dollars. Today I went river rafting on the Rio Chili for about an hour and a half, passing Class I - Class IV rapids. Actually the Class IV was only for about two seconds plunging down a quasi-cliff, fun nonetheless. Kayaking is where it´s at though, there were a few kayaking next to our raft and they´re goin underwater, upside down, sideways, backwards, looked like loads of fun.
So...yeah! I got the rest of the sunny day to laze away in Arequipa then I´m headed thru Puno to La Paz. Should get there within a day or so, with a new bundle of adventures awaiting my arrival. Just thought I´d give y´all a dupdate. Lata