Home

Back home now 4 days. Srule and Esther proved their undying love by coming to fetch me from JFK at the crack of dawn on what happened to also be Christmas Day. I don't know that I could've handled coming home without knowing they'd be waiting with such open, happy arms and eagerness to see me at the other end. And a coat. Ahh right - in NYC, December is quite cold!!

Being here amidst my things and my life, everything feels both comfortably and scarily familiar. It was fun to walk into my apartment and realize with fresh eyes how cozy and full of pretty non-hostel-like character it is! It was also unexpectedly reassuring to discover how naturally like home my home actually felt. As happy as I was to be traveling all of this time without a thought for the things I'd left behind, it was still pretty nice to see them again. Even NYC with its crazy city buzz has felt welcoming to me somehow - this being perhaps a nice perk of returning during the holiday season..?

The scary part of all this warm familiarity is knowing how easy it will be to pick up exactly where I left off - how quickly that "as if I never left" feeling sets in when you return home. It worries me to think that all the things I saw and did during what seemed like such a luxurious stretch of time before I left in early October, will become just part of a nice story I get to tell (to whoever is willing to listen) in a matter of moments. How can 2 1/2 months of life-changing adventure transmogrify into nothing but a blip?!!

And yet I really hope it doesn't. I really hope that this time, having opened myself up through travel in a way I never had before, I will internalize some of what I've learned, about the endless possibility of beauty and my own capacity for wonder. About remembering how to be wide eyed in the world, and the opportunity this affords to rediscover your sense of self and what you have to give, which is really one of the best things about travel, I find ... how it inspires and excites you to want to be your best self.

Or, as the quote from Kent Nerburn more precisely puts it:

“This is why we need to travel. If we don’t offer ourselves to the unknown, our senses dull... The edge is off our experience, and we pass our days in a routine that is both comfortable and limiting. We wake up one day and find that we have lost our dreams in order to protect our days.”

So I come home with the hope that I can keep pursuing that "edge" even as I settle back into a life of routine full of family and friends and a dog that I love. Oh yes, and work. Routine itself is not inherently evil or bad, I just have to find the one that is right for me. This trip has given me renewed enthusiasm for figuring out what that is, and also some clarity as to what that might be. Knowing too that continuing to travel as much as I can in life will be a big part of it. Hey, this blog may very well become a series!

Till then... I wish everyone a happy, full-of-blessings New Year!

Love,
Karen

B.A. nights

So I am happy to report I've been pretty successfully partaking in the famous (notorious?) Buenos Aires nightlife. The hype about it is ALL TRUE, being here makes partying in NYC seem like a soiree. And partying in pesos is amazing! Everything so miraculously affordable it is laughable, the prices for drinks and steaks and taxis and things all divisable by 3.8. So the ticket for the fancy club you thought cost $30 only really costs about $8.

And we've been to quite a few of them, Crobar, Niceto, Club 69, Museo. Tonight it was drum and bass night at Bahrain. I have cumulatively partied more these past 5 days than I did in my 20s. And while it is gratifying to be making up for lost time with so many nights of consecutive clubbing, it also pleases me to know that soon the madness will be over and I can get a good nights sleep again... guiltfree!

Between the crazy nightlife and this Milhouse hostel experience, being here in Buenos Aires has felt like a time warp. I share a room with 5 others, who are travelling from South Africa, Israel, England and even San Francisco. Coming "home" after a day's strolling and sightseeing, I walk into the hostel bar lounge where people are either playing pool, chatting in small groups, checking email and/or drinking an alcoholic beverage of some sort. Going to my "room" consists of lying on my bottom bunk and probably chatting with whoever else is also there about their day and forthcoming plans for the evening. Everyone is open and engaging and has interesting things to say. I have never had an easier time or so much fun meeting new people.

I will greatly miss this aspect of travelling, the openness of others, the stories they have to tell, the ease with which people seem happy and willing to get to know you.

So yeah Buenos Aires has been pretty amazing. There is obviously loads more about it that's been wonderful, the city so beautiful and interesting to absorb. And I've walked everywhere, to the Recoletta, Palermo, San Telmo ... and eaten gelatos and steak (almost) every day... and been to a few tango milongas ... and shopped and gotten my hair done. Slowly checking most everything off my list...

For my last day tomorrow I hope to make it back to Palermo for some more wandering and also to the Recoleta neighborhood to visit the cemetery where Eva Peron is buried. I will probably at some point also eat another gelato, maybe buy a pretty (and highly affordable) dress. I know snow awaits me back home in NYC so I will generally try to make the most of this last full day of summer in Buenos Aires.

Love,
Karen

Buenos Aires

I am spending my last week in Buenos Aires for the grande finale of all this. Staying at the self professed ¨party¨ hostel, the Milhouse, on main drag Avenida de Mayo where once again I feel the mother hen. But a party hostel seems most appropriate for B.A., where it is gauche to show up for anything before 2 or 3 am and where I am hoping peer pressure will help keep me awake.

Today was my first day and I walked an hour to my first Spanish class - where I am the only student!! - in San Telmo, grinning and occassionally also gasping with happiness along the way. Despite being a large city and home to aprx 13 million people, I feel like I want to absorb as much of B.A. as I can on foot. This city is beautiful. The weather this morning early summer perfect, with every other street offering up some shop or monument worth seeing or coming back to. I had not planned a particular route other than to reach the corner of Defensa and Brasil, but managed to still see Plaza de Mayo, Casa de Gobierno (¨the pink house¨) and Plaza Dorrego, along with a few museums and some pretty churches.

My teacher, Julia, is great and after conversing in Spanish for 2 hours at the cafe, took me on my first (and probably only) city bus ride to Plaza San Martin near the Recoleta. The emphasis of our classes is conversation and since I am the only student, I get to dictate our pace and focus. I am grateful for this freestyle approach, am furiously writing everything down in the hopes of emblazing as many new Spanish words and tenses on my brain as I can before I go home.

I also have such a long list of things I want to do and see and *eat* while I am here, and am grateful to have a full week instead of the originally planned 3 days to enjoy Buenos Aires. These include:

- Parilla at ¨La Vieja Rotisseria¨ and maybe also famous ¨La Cabrera¨
- The markets of San Telmo and Palermo Viejo
- Visit to the cemetary of Recoletta
- Tango lessons and/or show (milonga)
- Wednesday night happy hour at ¨Museo¨
- Day trip to El Tigre
- Dinner and drinks anywhere in Palermo Hollywood (I´ve been told)
- Clubbing B.A.-style (we shall see about this one!)

Helping me along with all this is the strength of the dollar against the peso. All in all, this will not be a terrible way to end my trip.

Love,
Karen

Rain on December 14

Raining in Cordoba ... in true form, I am happy for rain. Also on this particular morning, as we prepare for a long busride to Rosario.

Also on this particular morning, happy birthday to my sister!! Who is off celebrating somewhere with her husband after too much time apart...

I love you Poke. Happy Birthday!

Last 2 Weeks

Down to less than two weeks now remaining, and it feels right to be spending them drinking wine in northern Argentina: Mendoza, Cordoba (where I am tonight), then on to Rosario and finally, Buenos Aires!! This leg - and that´s how I´ve been viewing this trip I guess, divided in ¨legs¨ based on activity, mental state, GDP, etc. - so different from everything else so far, Peru being among the most indigenous and least developed of the South American countries, and Patagonia being Patagonia ie. like being on the moon.

Up here in Northern Argentina where I flew straight from Ushuai last Sunday morning, the vibe is more Europe - with a flavor all its own, enhanced by the early summer sun (yes, it´s beautiful summertime here!), and the personality of the people who do seem distinctly South American and yet remind me too of Israelis in nature (appropriately and funnily enough, there are LOADS of them tonight at the hostel where I´m staying ... and about 15 of them in the kitchen
right now cooking up ¨Shabbat¨ dinner... before hitting the Cordobian nightclubs, as one of them informed me).

I already miss Peru and I miss trekking every day with its clearly defined daily goals. (And I know I will miss, when I come home, the planning every day for something new, looking it up in the guidebook, talking to other travelers to glean what I can about where to go, what to see, the not sitting at my desk. I will miss the Spanish and the South American culture - already I regret all the countries I haven´t seen!!).

But for now, there is the wine, and I plan to drink plenty of it, good and amazingly cheap here in Northern Argentina, before I leave. We´ve certainly taken advantage in Mendoza so far, bringing a bottle home (aka to the hostel) with us every night. We´ve been eating steak too, though I am trying to pace myself a bit with that one, knowing Buenos Aires with its highly recommended restaurants is next.

More to come.

Love,
Karen

Ushuai, Ushuai

How the name rolls nicely off the tongue. As if being at el fin del mundo isn´t romantical enough, the name itself sounds like a dream. Or like something wonderful to eat. Have yet to find out if it has any significance or how exactly Ushuai came to be called Ushuai though I am curious. Either way, I rather unexpectedly fell in love with it, the idea to visit at all more of an afterthought with time left to kill after Torres del Paine before SJ set off.

Maybe it was the penguins we visited first off on a catamaran tour of the Beagle Channel. Undeniably as adorable as you expect them to be, waddling and playful and full of torpedo-like energy diving in and out of the frigid water (we did confirm with Captain Sergio that were we to fall in we´d die of hypothermia within the first 5 minutes - making the lifevests aboard the boat quite pointless we thought). Seeing them was pretty amazing, especially when one seemed to stop below the boat to look up and right at me. I swear he was making eye contact. (I have pictures!)

Or maybe it was the proximity of things. And how short the walk to the Old Prison and Maritime Museum (yes these are one and the same) or the best hot chocolate. Or to the local favorite Irish bar The Dublin which we visited 4 nights in a row, making conversation with really nice and actually engaging people who had just returned from filming a 9 part documentary miniseries in Antartica, or piloting ships around the world, or were just traveling through like us. Despite being a small Patagonian port town, Ushuai also had a distint international buzz that made it seem larger than it was without being intimidating.

And from most every vantage point, you can see the Beagle Channel and the ships docked there and the glaciers that hover on the northern side. So that even if you´re just heading to the supermarket via San Martin street, you´re reminded you´re at the end of the world because that´s what it looks like when you look around. On my last day in Ushuai, I also walked down San Martin street and past the supermarket to go visit Glacier Martial, just 7 km away. I WALKED to a glacier - from downtown!

Our hostel Yakush also helped make Ushuai feel like home. Having by now honed our expertise in hostels, it was hands down the coziest place SJ and I stayed in in Patagonia. We prepared and ate our meals in a large light-filled communal kitchen where everyone talked to one another as they hustled around the stove and drank from their respective really good and highly affordable bottles of Argentian wine. Light filled also during dinnertime because the sun doesn´t begin to set in Ushuai (or the rest of Patagonia for that matter) until around 9 pm.

So Ushuai is now on my growing list of fantasy places to live one day, alongside New Mexico and Paris and Barcelona. Whether or not this ever happens, it was the perfect place to conclude my time in Patagonia, before heading back up north to face the civilization that more closely resembles what I know, with its bustle and traffic and attainable horizons.

W Trek, Torres Del Paine 11/26 - 11/30

Finishing the W trek through Torres Del Paine park in Chile is one of the best things I´ve ever done: a four day trek through the vast and everchanging Patagonian landscape of glaciers and lakes, streams and waterfalls, granite peaks and frozen valleys, and lots of desert scrub; through intense colors and contending emotionally as well as physically at times with wind, snow, rain and sun. It was beautiful and it was tough and when I finished it I was never more tired or more high on so much beauty and the accomplishment of what I´d done (my biggest big deal of a hike so far in life). Below is a day by day replay of the incredible experience we had:

Thursday, 11/26: We´ve spent the whole day busing back from El Chalten so Staci Jon and I are kind of tired and cranky when we finally arrive back in Puerto Natales at 9:30 pm. It is also very cold and windy as we make our way from the bus stop in the growing darkness via the supermercado to stock up on some snacks for the trek. Then over to the Patagonian Adventure Hostel, run by the lovely Marissa and Jorge who´ve helped arrange everything: our bus to the park the next day, reservations at the refugios, the prepared meals we said we wanted. We barely have enough energy to repack our bags for the 4 day trip ahead, send some check-in emails back home and roll into our bunks for sleep. Everyone at the hostel is backpacking too and are either returning from or heading out to TDP the next morning as well. Our ¨big day¨ is finally here. Lying in bed, I am a small bundle of excitement and nerves and fall asleep at last to the sound of the wind blowing loudly outside the window.

Friday, 11/27: The bus picks us up promptly at 7:30 am - fortunately it is ¨door to door¨ service so we are still finishing our toast with butter and jam for breakfast at about 7:25. We arrive at the Laguna Amarga entrance to the park by about 9, at Refugio Las Torres shortly thereafter and are off on our very first trek in TDP by 11. Today is a long day, about 19 km roundtrìp and we are off to see the so called ¨crown jewels¨ of the park, Los Torres: the three gigantic pilars of granite created by glacial forces and towering at 2900 m/ 9400 ft. We are clearly energized and excited about our very first day, but what I don´t anticìpate - even though I´ve tasted and heard plenty of it - is the crazy wind. Going at 70+ kph. A guide on his way down warns about it, tells us it is dangerous and to be careful, and that a woman was knocked down just the other day and broke her arm. When we get to Passiage de Veinte we see what he means. It is a narrow path of a passage across the side of the mountain, where you can easily lose your footing if the wind is determined enough about it. I make it through a few panic attacks, a challenging final 1 hour climb over rocks and boulders, to arrive at last with one final step in front of the Torres. For a perfect view. On what has turned out to be a crystal clear day. We are lucky it seems and what lies before us erases all of the frustration and near tears that came before. It is like a movie set. We don´t stay very long because it is so cold up there too, so we turn soon thereafter to begin our descent back through the Ascencio Valley.

Saturday, 11/28: Today is an easy day. Only a 11k one way stretch along Lake Nordenskjald. The sun is out and at some point it becomes warm enough to wear shorts. We have our full packs with us today but compared to yesterday this feels like a stroll. The wind is kinder too. The views are beautiful, serene and pastoral by Day 1 standards with its scrub and harsh deserty mountains and rocks. We arrive at our next ¨home¨, Refugio Los Cuernos, by 4:30 pm and manage also to score bunkbeds even though we were told they were ¨sold out¨ and we´d need to camp. So our mood are high as we settle in. The evening comes to a pleasant end over a few card games (ie ¨Ässhole¨) with our fellow bunkmates, Alex and Carly, pisco sour(s) prepared by Emiliano, and a nice hot dinner of steak with vegetables and rice.

Sunday, 11/29: We are mentally prepared for Day 3 through the high valley to be our longest day (23k) and we eat appropriately at breakfast: some nice porridge, a bowl of scrambled eggs, toast with lots of butter and jam. The trek consists of a steep trail into and out of Valle Francés into the heart of the Paine Massif via Campamento Italiano (where we get to leave our backpacks hidden in the wood shed!); and a final, relatively easy 2 hour stretch along Lago Skottsberg. Snow flurries see us off and last for most of our visit in the valley itself. It makes for fairly poor visibility but we do get to see a roaring river, three avalanches (!) and the valley´s famous peak formation with fancy names like Mascara, Espada, Hoja, Catedrál... I find myself walking alone for much of the hike along Lago Skottsberg as SJ, Cary and Alex are all at assorted paces up ahead, and at one point too, I see a pair of condors soaring up above. They are beautiful to watch, with their ginormous wing spans and graceful arcs around each other. When we do all finally convene at Refugio Paine Grande, SJ, Carly, Alex and I celebrate our final night with more pisco sours - which I have offically decided taste better here in Chile.

Monday, 11/30: We do a relatively easy 12k today to see Glacier Grey. SJ and I are feeling pretty spent on this, our last day, so it is a bit of an effort to set off - especially after we hit a minor snowstorm about 15 minutes into the trek. We have decided to go only as far as the first mirador vs all the way to Glacier Grey itself and we arrive admidst very strong cold winds. It´s fairly overcast too but we do get some pretty impressive if a bit cloudy and appropriately grey views - all very ethereal, surreal-seeming. We turn back knowing we have offically completed the ¨W¨ of which Glacier Grey trail is the last little arm (per the shape on the trail map). At 6:30, our catamaran sets off across Lago Pehoé to take us to Gaurderia Pudeto for us bus back to Puerto Natales. We arrive tired but hungry and arrange to meet our new posse of trekking friends for a dinner of woodfire pizza, after depositing our backpacks at our respective hostels near the Plaza des Armas. We agree noone can shower before dinner so we all arrive glamorously dirty and smelly and noone cares.

And there you have it. Good to finally get this out, and I´m sorry for the delay. There are so many details not captured here, so many images emblazoned on my brain that I hope I remember forever. Along with the high that being here in Patagonia has inspired in me for the first time, making me fully feel how truly majestic and beautiful life can be and how anything at all that we might want is possible, if only we can imagine it.

Wind

We got our first taste of the big bad Patagonia wind today, on our trek to Laguna Torre. Coming up over the final mounds of boulders upon the glacial lake that was our destination it suddenly picked up something fierce and we spent lunch hunkered behind a makeshift wall of stones we found stacked there, munching on avocado and cheese sandwhiches and watching a bird repeatedly attempt to fly against it, to absolutely no avail. In his introduction to Chatwins In Patagonia, Nicholas Shakespeare notes this:

You know you are in Patagonia when you see rodados patagonicos, the basalt pebbles left behind by glaciers, and the jarilla, the low bush that is its dominant flora. Patagonia may also be described by its climate. The wind that blows with terrible force from October to March - in Chatwins expression, [stripping men raw] - made Antoine de Saint-Exuperys plane fly backwards instead of forward.

But my favorite excerpt from the book is Chatwins own which reading again now that I am here sums up this place perfectly. It is from a letter to his wife that he wrote while here in 1976:

On no previous journey am I conscious of having done more. Patagonia is as I expected but more so, inspiring violent bouts of love and hate. Physically it is magnificent, a series of graded steps or barricas which are the cliff lines of prehistoric seas and unusually full of fossilised oyster shells... In the east, you suddenly confront the great wall of the cordillera with bright turquoise lakes (some are milky white and others a pale jade green) with unbelievable colors to the rocks. Sometimes it seems that the Almightly has been playing at making Napolitan ice cream.

Now that we have tasted of this wind, Staci Jon and I feel a little less naive about what potentially (most likely, inevitably) awaits in Torre del Paine. Also, having hiked a 15 miles to Fitz Roy then 9 miles to Laguna Torre the next day, we feel we have built up some good physical stamina. So there are no illusions here and we like to believe being in El Chalten has helped us get a bit more mentally prepared. But today, we will be sitting on buses all day making our way back to Puerto Natales and looking forward to the rest.

Patagonia - Day 1 - 4

Coming upon the end of Day 4 in Patagonia. In El Chalten to be exact, where we just spent the day on our very first trek to Glacieres Los Tres to see the most spectacular, most highly recommended view of Mount Fitz Roy.

We had very good weather, the first very sunny, aprx 60 degree day. Set out at 9:30 am for the trailhead straight from our little backpacking hostel, La Rancho Grande. Perfect T shirt weather. Words cannot describe how spectacular it is here, the granite, snowcapped peaks, the rapidly changing vistas from lakes to glaciers to desert scrub, the wide open, most expansive skies I have ever seen, the amazing scents of earth and wind, then everything together the most intense, most spectacular of combinations. I am taking loads of pictures, trying hoping to convey what it is I am seeing, even Macchu Piccu not this intense, not this consistently heart pacingly exhilirating.

Tomorrow we do another recommended day hike, to Mount Torre. Days here so long, the sunlight lasts till about 9 pm so no worries about running out of time. But it adds to the trippiness of the ageless landscape. The sun so bright, the sky so blue at such unexpected times and you are on a perpetual sun-induced high, despite any physical exertion and fatigue. Coupled by the mental trippiness of so much expansivenss of space all around. So it is like jetlag on acid (yes, like I know).

So yes so far, Staci Jon and I are having an amazing time. And today she had a pretty special birthday with the Fitz Roy trek. We are dorming it at the hostel and she has the top bunk, sweet girl. And today twas was so nice to get out. Been sitting on our asses (mostly) since meeting on our flight from Santiago because Patagonia bus rides are so very long: first Punta Arenas - Puerto Natales (4 hours), then Puerto Natales - El Calafate (aprx 6 hrs plus Chile/Argentinia border control), then El Calafate - El Chalten (about 3 hours). We were so excited to wake up today, don our fabulous pleated hiking pants, and actually TREK. Friday, we head at last to Torres del Paine and will stay at refugios along the way + 1 night tent camping. Supposed to be one of the most spectular hikes in the world, we are praying praying the weather will be kind to us. El Chalten a good omen so far.

Love love love (and happiness) from Patagonia, Karen
(Tuesday, 11/24 10:16 pm)

Santiago

I loved Santiago. It´s a truism to say the best way to get to know a place is through it´s people but it is. In the mere 36 hours I had to spend I was able to absorb the energy and vibe of the city, thanks to my (new) friend Patrick who lives there. Saw a few sites too - namely the Plaza des Armes, Cathedral, and the seafood Mercado - but the highlights involved ¨once¨ (a relaxed social fingerfood/tapas/wine affair) at his friend´s flat the night I arrived complete with several bottles of Chilean wine; brunch the following morning at an outdoor cafe in beautiful Bella Artiste; a short visit to the contemporary Chilean art museum; an afternoon at the very lively Santiago bar ¨La Piojera¨ (aka The Flea) where I experienced the local drinks Terremoto and Pipeño (fermented wine with sweet something); and a visit to the street food market where I had a typical completo Italiano.

I loved Santiago and hope one day to be back, for longer. Also I am a new fan of the art of ¨hosting¨ travelers because I´ve had the pleasure of seeing what an amazing difference it can make in helping someone experience a new city.

Dashing now to catch my 10:30 flight to Punto Arenas... Adios!!

Whiling the afternoon away...

I have spent the past four hours (and counting) in front of the computer on this, my last day in Cusco. Feeling my brain going comfortably numb through the achingly slow process of uploading 367 pictures, including a few videos which isn´t helping matters. It would be nice to send some in real time I think and also, my dad keeps harassing me for photos, so here I am. I am a good daughter and also I can relate. Blog notwithstanding, visuals do tell a gabazillion words.

And besides I have some time to kill. Checked out of the Hostel Santa Maria this morning but my Arequipa bus doesn´t leave until 8:30 pm. Was hoping to visit the Inca Museum and also Qoricancha ruins before I go (and maybe also get an aromatherapy/swedish/hot stone massage because the woman on the street said 1 hour only costs 20 soles ($8 US) and what could be better before a long bus ride). But we shall see what time I have remaining when this photo thing is finally done. My consolation is the big open skies of Patagonia where I am guessing I will be computer-free for much of the next two weeks.

Meanwhile, behind me, it is raining again. The Internet cafe has an open glassfree storefront and I am sitting closest to the street and can feel the breeze coming in and smell the rain, which has predictably poured almost every day here in Cusco - such a far cry from the hot summery sun of Arequipa. Meanwhile, I am also getting really hungry. (Oh YEY, less then 50 more photos to go!!!! Well, I´ve wisened up and deleted the videos for the purpose of this upload. So things are moving along less painfully.)

Next I write will mostly likely be from Santiago, Chile where I will be spending Thursday-Friday eve. I am staying with Patrick, who we met on the Inca Trail and who believes in sharing his couch with world travelers (see www.couchsurfing.com - what a great idea!). He´s from Texas and is spending the year teaching English in Santiago - also such a great idea, I think. Hmmm so much to think about...

Besitos.

ps. Whitewater rafting on the Rio Urubamba yesterday was beautiful, if wet and cold. And yes there are pictures... ! :)

Lazy Cusqueñean days

Life back in Cusco, post- Inca Trail has been rilllllllly relaxing...

Yesterday John and I did the Circuito Turistico de Valle Sagrado via tour bus from Cusco. It was nice to sit on our small bus, lazily watching the sprawling Andean scenery beneathe ever-changing configurations of sun and clouds outside the window, and hopping off occassionally to explore the ruins and markets that make up the tour:

From the villages of Pisac to Urubamba where we stopped for lunch (mmm.... pollo and Inka Cola!) then onwards to Ollantaytambo then Chinchero (of Peruvian textile fame, where we had a mini demonstration on llama wool weaving and dying in the growing dusk), then back to Cusco by evening.

One would think that after the ruins of the Inca Trail and then Macchu Piccu that I would be a little bit Inca´d out - so to speak. But the hilltop ruins of Pisaq and Ollantaytambo with their amazing stonework and agricultural terracing (for which the Incas are so famous), were still so enthralling. We dutifully followed our guide Mark Anthony up and down the steep, stone stairs for much of the afternoon, out of breathe but gladly soaking it all in. Altogether we were a nice smallish group of about 15 - including 2 solo female travelers who had come from Quebec and the Netherlands and like me, were traveling for about 2 months; 1 nice American from California named Dave; and a young couple from Scotland that were coming upon the end of their 6 month journey through South America and had lots of good advice and words of enthusiasm to offer on Patagonia... where, as you all know, is where I´m headed next (!!).

But for now Cusco it is. And having discovered a *super* high speed Internet cafe, we are enjoying a pretty mellow afternoon and rest of the day. John leaves for La Paz in the morning and I on Wednesday for Santiago, via 10 hour night bus back to Arequipa to catch a Thursday morning flight. But I do plan to end my stay here with a bang, and have just signed up for whitewater rafting trip down a portion of the Rio Urumbaba - allegedly one of the most popular rafting trips in South America and also, very importantly, not too scary this time of year. Only 110 soles (aprx $35 US) includes gear, lunch and ... a post rafting sauna!

So be sure to stay tuned for an update about THAT little next adventure of mine :)

Love always, from Cusco (for now)

Karen

Inca Trail to Machu Piccu - yes I finally did it :) !

We approached Macchu Piccu very early the morning of Friday, November 13th (!) in the rain. It was 4 days and ~40 kilometers since we started, and the giddy glee among us trekkers gazing down upon it from the Sun Gate made it feel like a late afternoon happy hour session - not 6:25 am. We had gathered at the Wiñay Wayna gaurd post before sunrise, a posse of wet ponchos and cyclopes headlamps awaiting permission to begin the much anticipated final 6k leg of the trail. Authorization forms were shown and we were waved through and all of a sudden Machu Piccu was just another 2 hours away!!! Some trekkers (specifically, a group of rakish 20-something Aussie boys who had ¨shadowed¨us on the trail for the past 3 days sporting striped knee socks and 70s style running shorts) ran past us on the windy, cliff hugging path. They, like a few others, were trying to get to Wayna Picchu, at the back of the ruins to get a slightly different (perhaps, better?) view. But John and I and our trusty guide ¨high five¨Jhossi (who really did like to high five us approxiamately 5 times/day in an apparent effort to keep our spirits high) were happy with the steady approach we had planned...

And there it was. We were lucky that morning. The huge puffy white clouds were still low and the air misty from the rain which had, by then, tapered off to a light drizzle. But visibility was good. Just the day before, the trail had been one big cloud forest with mist and fog obstructing some of the otherwise majestic views. Though all in all - as Jhossi kept reminding us - we had been very lucky with the weather on the trail, starting it out on a brilliantly sunny day and encountering only occassional clouds and rain throughout. The temperature had also been appropriately cool for the notoriously tough Day 2, which had included a 3 hour ascent to Warmiwañusca (aka ¨Dead Woman´s Pass¨- ha) at 4318 meters above sea level.
Standing there at the Sun Gate, lucky was how I felt. Over our 4 days on the Inca Trail, we had seen the landscape change from beautiful cacti-filled desert running along the Rió Urubamba to crazy dense jungle forests against a backdrop of snow capped mountains. We had also visited several other smaller Inca ruins, seen a few green lakes, many llamas and cows, and at one point too, in the yard of one small house, one very funny black pig. And it would be impossible to talk about how lucky I felt on our amazing journey without also mentioning the small fleet of porters that accompanied us on the trail at incomprehensible speeds carrying about 25 kilos each of gear and food on their backs every single day so that by the time John, Jhossi and I arrived at our designated lunch- or camp-site, tents were already pitched and food was already ready. I appreciated them with such gratitude and awe every time...
And after 4 days on the Inca Trail it was gratifying to know that we had arrived at last. At that hour, it was still just us trekkers and the mood was celebratory with individuals, and couples, and groups of friends striking a pose on of the well positioned rocks for their requisite photo with Machu Piccu in the background. The site itself was still about another hour away on the trail past the Sun Gate, and by the time we arrived there the sun was shining, and the tourists were beginning to arrive on buses from the nearby town of Aguas Caliente, where they had stayed overnight. We spent the next few hours roaming the ancient ¨lost city¨of Machu Piccu itself. Jhossi gave us a nice tour through the assorted beautiful ceremonial baths, fountains, towers and ceremonial rocks that made up the Inca ruins. And soon we were done and on a train back to Ollaytantambo and then a taxi through the Urubamba Valley back to Cusco. We were at our hostel by 7 pm where we (greatly) enjoyed hot showers before going out on the town with a few other people we had met on the Inca Trail who were also staying nearby. It was a great end to an amazing week.

Did you know today is Puno Day?!!

Arrived in Puno this afternoon smack in the middle of Puno Day - the town´s annual celebration of the birth of Manco Capac, the first Inca. Haha we couldn´t have planned it better if we tried. The town is one big parade, full of marching bands and dancing children in feathery glittering costumes and smiling women looking on in bowler hats. Apparently the festivities last a week. Though probably the parade and celebrations have something to do with my first impression so far, I am really digging the vibe of Puno, the streets more windy and maze-like than Arequipa begging to be explored, the feeling in the streets more communal and cheerful. At the very outskirts of town too is Lake Titicaca, which we caught a shimmery, blue glimpse of through the hills as our bus drove on in. Tomorrow we shall set early sail on it. At 3830 m, it is the world´s highest navigable lake and all afternoon I have been feeling a slight headache from the altitude - though really not so bad. Hmmm maybe tonight I will try alpaca steak...?

Puno-bound

John and I bought our tickets to Puno today, leaving Arequipa on an five hour long 8 am bus tomorrow, Thursday. We shall be in Puno for nearly two days to visit Lake Titicaca and take the boat out to the famous Uros and Taquilla islands. And from there, we will head to Cusco sometime Saturday night. I´ve already bought my ticket to Santiago as well where I will be meeting and continuing on with SJ to Patagonia. Everything is moving so fast! I will miss it here (so much) but look forward to the next chapter(s)...

Trekking en el Cañon del Colco

My watch reads 4:13 am when someone pounds on the door. It is the tin door of the small freestanding cement room where we´ve been sleeping the past 2 nights - so the pounding reverberates off the steeped corrugated tin roof and booms nicely throughout. Oh no. I´ve slept through the tiny alarm I had set for 3:38 am. That would have left me 22 minutes to dress and brush my teeth before meeting our guide at the designated 4 am departure time. As it was I now had -13 mintues. Who knew I could dress, wash and attach a backpack to my back in the dark in such record time?

By 4:35 am we were on our way. John, Kate, Leon, Danni and I dutifully following our guide, Gladys, singlefile under the pre-dawn moonlight sky. We were on our way out of the Colca Canyon where we had just spent the previous day enjoying the warm hospitality of Doris and her family in the tiny village of Malata. Doris runs a small hostel there, but it felt like we were staying in her home. The ¨hostel¨ was a compilation of 3 very simple cement rooms each with a few prepared beds atop of an earth floor and a single light bulb dangling above. All 3 rooms were situated along a ridge that ran above and alongside the Rio Colca below. We had arrived too late from our trek into the Canyon Saturday evening to see where we were but awoke Sunday morning to a breathtaking view of cows and donkeys grazing in green mesas, against sunlit canyon walls. A single faucet and bucket stood on the path outside our room so this was my view as I brushed my teeth that morning.

The rest of the day was our reward for the crazy hike into the canyon the day before. We had arrived via Chivay and finally the (very) (very) small town of Cabanaconde before beginning the continuous snake trail down to Malata below. Old Peruvian women with long black braids and weathered faces, wearing the traditional embroidered full skirts and small hats strolled the streets. The sun was very hot by the time we started the trek down and our happy astonishment at the magnificent views was quickly overshadowed by fatigue. A small oasis with little blue pools beckoned from below but instead of getting closer seemed to get farther away with every curve of the trail (was it just a mirage??). What should have taken us 2 hours took us about 3 but we did arrive in the end for our promised dip, some watermelon slices and a deep breath - before continuing from there on to Malata where we finally arrived at Doris´doorstep shortly after sunset.

So Sunday had been our ¨day of rest¨to enjoy Malata itself. The village was simple and tiny and lovely to see. A small church stood in the center and farms with maize and grazing cows and donkeys scattered throughout. One neat one story building with brightly painted yellow walls was the village clinic and another was the grade school that served the small children of Malata and other surrounding villages. The older children went to school in Chivay returning to the village only on the weekends, to avoid having to trek into and out of the canyon more than twice a week. There was also a church.

After our stroll through the village with Gladys, we returned to Doris´house where we spent the rest of Sunday enjoying the deep canyon breezes, and learning how to make the traditional maize drink chicha and prepare llama wool to be died from Doris herself. The day´s grande finale was when the lot of us - boys included - got wear the traditional Peruvian skirts and vests and hats and learn a little Peruvian dance. It was fun and funny and a fine end to a day full of immersing ourselves in an altogether different and facinating world.

All of which led us to that early early pre dawn trek back out of the canyon Monday morning. We were trying to make it up and out as quickly as possible to beat the sun getting too hot. Danni, Kate and Leon opted for donkeys. But John and I - who would also be hiking the Inca Trail within the week - were keen on getting some good preparation/practice out of it. It was probably the hardest, continuously uphill hike I´ve ever done but beat the sun I did (more or less) and by 8:15 am was back in Cabanaconde where we started just 2 days before, happy happy and tired.

All in all it was a beautiful 3 day experience. I have been lucky enough to see so much beauty in this world already, but the landscape in the southern desert canyonlands of Peru really did take my breathe away. I hope to provide actual photos soon; hoping this helps convey a little bit of what it was like for now.

Love,
Karen

Off to the Colca Canyon tonight

Off on my first trek of the trip thus far - to the Colca Canyon! Back Monday eve.

http://gosouthamerica.about.com/cs/southamerica/a/PeruColca.htm

Till then!!

Love, Karen

Real teacher for a day

Julia was not feeling so well this morning so I covered for her at the school today. This is a big deal because Julia has the most advanced class. I, on the other hand, teach the youngest class with Danni. That is, not actual English grammer or syntax. So today I got to be a real English teacher for a day. It was hard but I did enjoy it. Only Gustavo, Lizet and Elisabeth showed up so the class was smaller than usual but perfect for role play and such and together we practiced the present simple, past simple and irregular, and of course everyone´s favorite, the future conditional. It was strange having to name and give examples of the things I naturally just say nevermind having to explain exactly why I say them that way. I realize how I completely have no idea. Fortunately, the students didn´t seem to really care or mind and were happy to just be practicing conversation.

Since today was also Wednesday, we had our weekly 8 pm meeting at the house to discuss how things are going. We usually split into 2 groups, between those that are volunteering at the Flora Tristan school and those volunteering at the orphanage (another key project). Those of us at the school have lots of ideas about how we can help improve the structure and cirriculum for the kids and also the handover to new volunteers, with so many coming and going every week and month. So we are creating documents and pulling together resources that can be centralized and regularly updated for years to come... Hopefully they will prove helpful.

The house itself is getting fuller by the minute. This week so far seven new volunteers will have arrived: Laura and Ombretta from Sardinia; Kath from Brighton (46 year old mother of 2 college boys who has been traveling since July and has another 5 months to go. How so very cool is she??) ; Sarah from northwest France; and apparently three 21 year old Icelandic girls who arrive tomorrow. The general rule is that volunteers staying for more than 1 month go directly to the orphanage where the tias need all the help they can get. But we are hoping some of the new volunteers will opt to come to the school, as we will soon be very shortstaffed. Julia, Danni, Kerri, Victoria and I will all be gone after next week. Which just leaves poor Jim.

Ah, my first inkling of this leg of my trip coming to end. The Arequipan leg, if you will. Already feeling a bit sad to think of it so near. Unsurprising for easily wistful nostalgic me. But we will cross that bridge when we come to it.

Meanwhile, the house has turned dark and everyone has gone off to bed and now so shall I (yes it only 10:49 pm). Buenos noches.

Touristy things

This has been a mostly relaxing weekend. Our weekdays have been so full with classes in the morning and the school each afternoon, that everyone in the house was excited for some personal downtime to focus on Spanish homework, napping, sunbathing (not me!) and the like...

But since this has also been my last weekend to really enjoy Arequipa (as I have assorted trips planned for the next two), I wanted to tackle the shortlist of things I knew I really wanted to see and do while here. On Saturday this consisted of a leisurely morning at the house, followed by a walk into town with Julia to visit the Museo Santury where the famous ¨ice princess¨ Juanita lies enshrined in her freezer display case. Discovered only about 15 years ago at the summit of Nevado Ampato, Juanita (as she has been named apropos the archeologist that found her) was the young girl sacrificed by the Incans to appease their gods five centuries ago. Other child sacrifices have been discovered since, but Juanita is considered the most well preserved thanks to icy conditions on top of the mountain and it was a strange culmination of the solemn 30 minute guided tour through Incan burial artifacts to come upon her small icy body in its fetal position behind so many layers of glass.

Back at the house, everyone was gathering for our slated 4 pm departure to ¨Tradición Arequipian,¨a local restaurant recommended to us by Lonely Planet for its typical regional cuisine. Mostly I´ve been eating what I´ve been making at the house ie lots of avocado sandwiches, pasta, eggs and toast, etc. etc. along with the occassional super affordable Italian, Mexican and Chinese meal out. Clearly it was time for some fried guinea pig! Just kidding. Actually this was not on my tasting to do list (though Julia had one in Cusco and said it was not so bad). Instead, I sampled the rocoto relleno (spicy meat, rice and potato stuffed red pepper) and the rancho al horno (yup roasted suckling pig) and finally got to try some chicha, a popular sweet corn drink which was really nice and refreshing though it could have been colder. Jim ordered the chupa de camarones so between us all we were pretty covered in the recommended cuisine sampling. It was a fun time, followed by café and tortas at our favorite neighborhood chapel-run coffee shop, where we played Uno and Connect Four.

Then this afternoon I ventured out alone (yeyeyeyey some alone time!) to see the beautiful Monasterio de Santa Catalina. It was another perfect summery day and I would have enjoyed the stroll through the Sunday quiet streets of Arequipa more if I hadn´t awoke feeling a little bit sickly (was it the horno ... or the apple ... I ate??). But the colonial style convent,virtually a city within a city founded in 1580 for the nun-aspiring daughters of wealthy families throughout Spain and closed off from the public until the early 70s, was peaceful and worth it and I was glad to have a quiet afternoon to myself there.

Now back in the house it is 7:30 and we are gathered round the telly to watch ¿Qué Pasa Ayer? ie The Hangover, which I am quiet happy to be seeing again because it was so funny the first time. I will make some toast and take some aspirin and hope that I am in fine condition to start the week anew come the ´morrow.

Muchos besos.

An Areriqipian night on the town...

... Is not so much different from one in New York. If you show up at the karaoke bar at 10:30 pm you are a loser and there will be nobody there. The music will be hopping though when it all does finally pick up at around midnight, the dancing will be great and you will break out a sweat and be glad that you are getting an unexpected late night workout. You will fit right in even though you didn´t bring any clothes for a night on the town with you on this trip, because you will be wearing jeans - just like everybody else. The rest of the girls though will have slightly more glammed out tops and jewelry, which you left at home. And they will not be wearing hiking boots. You might play a game of foozball and lose ... or you might win. The beer will be plentiful and you might do a few shots of tequila and take a bunch of stupid pictures of yourself and your friends dancing on the dance floor and making faces as if you were 23 again. Just like in New York. Only the beers will be a shocking $1.50 each and the taxi there and back will cost just $2 between the four of you sharing a ride home. And the Peruvians might stare a bit before they proceed to ignore you because you are just another gringa having a grand ol´time out on a Saturday night.

Friday morn

It´s Friday morning and I don´t have Spanish today because Sylvia, my 24 year old Arequipan tutor, had to take her baby boy to the hospital for his vaccinations. So I am lazing about the house a bit, practicing my lessons and may head to the local market soon to buy some vegetables and toilet paper - if I can rally to leave in time. Need to be in town by 1:15 to meet the gang and take our bus. Today is ¨Fun Friday,¨the day we bring fruit to the school and also try to organize a group game for the kids at the cancha. Jim thinks we should try kickball since it´s suitable for a wider range of ages. Danni and I also have some ideas for our class, though we haven´t yet bought the supplies we would need to execute them. Hmmm maybe I can pick some up at the market (did I mention it has everything)?? Joel needs a new puzzle and the glitter glue is running out fast. Amazing how the week has flown, so so fast. Any yet I feel like I´ve been here so much longer. So much to see, do and process. It is summer outside. Is it really actually almost November?

¨Hello Teacher!¨

So now it´s time to tell you about the classroom I´ve been visiting at the very outskirts of Arequipa this week.

Every day Jim, Julia, Victoria, Danni, Keri and I board a cambio near Plaza Des Armes that takes us about 45 minutes outside the town. The cambio in itself marks the beginning of our passageway into another world. Comfortably seats about 25, can feasibly fit in about 50 - with enough sheer determination and the earnest effort of a ¨conductor¨who clings to the cambio´s folding door and bellows out the name of our final destination in a seeming attempt to lure people in
who might not have otherwise considered heading that way. ¨Villa Fontana! Villa Fontana!¨ So that by the time we reach our stop, the 6 of us pile out relieved to have arrived at last and begin our short walk up the dirt road to the school. It is as refreshing a beginning to the rest of the afternoon as any.

The Flora Tristan Community School where we teach is not really a school. It is a self-made compilation of 4 rooms with poured cement floors, brightly painted walls and tin roofs at the very dusty foothills of some mountains. Before previous volunteers built it, there was nothing. A handpainted sign on the blue cement wall out front says ¨Welcome to the Wonderful World of English¨above a picture of the globe and the kids who come from the nearby communities of Flora Tristan and Villa Chachani range in ages from 2 - 20. Our mission as their self-appointed teachers for 2 hours each afternoon is to ¨provide them with a marketable skill (speaking English) while keeping them off the streets and out of trouble.¨

But the kids that come to the Flora Tristan School come as much for our company as access to ¨the wonderful world of English.¨Doors open at 3:30 and those that have decided to show up that day usually greet us with an ebulliant ¨hello teacher!!!¨and kiss on the cheek. In many cases, this is the only thing they actually can say in English, and the littlest ones say nothing at all but love it when we give them crayons and stare in awe while we do the hokey pokey. Danni and I together lead Class 1 - the youngest class - and depend mostly on dances and songs to help us expose our students to English. If we are lucky, and their attention spans have not waned, we might get them in a circle to practice ¨Hello, my name is...¨

Mostly, though, all of the kids want to play. And we play our hearts out with them on the cancha - or playground (in our case a flat cement block that is more basketball court) - after an hour of having hopefully made some progress teaching English in our respective classes. ¨Vamos a la cancha!¨ are magic words for the littlest ones and we teachers all dutifully head out to play ball and jump rope. That is all but it is everything and for one hour the cancha is a frenzy of children from all the classes playing with nothing but 2 bouncing balls, 3 flat ones and 2 jump ropes, one of which is attached to some poles to constitute a swing. There are usually also about 5 dogs running around in the mix. A few mothers sit on the outskirts of the cancha watching us silently.

The afternoon at the Flora Tristan Community School ends with water. Once the assorted balls and ropes have been collected, the children follow us back to the school for the cup of water we dole out to them in red plastic cups. ¨Vamos a tener el agua!¨ There is no running water in Flora Tristan, a community of dirt roads and squat unfinished cement houses against the great wide open Peruvian sky. By the time we make our way back up the dirt road to await our cambio back to Arequipa the sun is setting in a red orange ball in the backdrop. And you can see the El Mistin and Chachani volcanos towering high in the distance.

About my first weekend

Just finished my first weekend in Arequipa - that is, my first 3 days living at 123 Calle de Gomez!! Yesterday, Carmen gave me my very own set of housekeys so now I can enter and depart the house through the double set of triple locked doors we must unlock and relock each time, as I please (:). Apparently, all the homes on our nicely manicured, almost suburban like street have them, along with the spiked posts and high fences that surround our yards.

Which is not to say I don´t feel anything but comfortable and happy and safe here. In only my first 3 days in Aerquipa I already feel quite settled. It´s always a revelation how time travels differently when you leave your routine - how 3 days can feel like 3 months when you are experiencing something new. A thing I remember from summer camp.

I´d also forgotten how easy it is to form quick friendships with people whilst in equally unfamiliar territory - not defined by what you do, or who you know, or how old you are, etc etc. So far we are 11. Marissa and Mayo and Kate are leaving today, but Leon and Kate (a lovely UK couple) arrived yesterday morning. And so it goes around here, with new volunteers coming and going each week. So far everyone has been lovely and it´s been a real inspiration to find myself among people all traveling with such wide-eyed enthusiasm and only a vague sense of when they plan to head home. That we are all here because we like to travel - and also wanted to volunteer - has so far made for really good company.

And in their company, this is what I did during my first weekend in Arequipa:

• Celebrated Kate´s birthday at the Mexican joint Taco and Tequila in town (even though Kate herself couldn´t make it due to some stomach thing)


• Went with Jim, Julia and Danni to the local market to pick up produce and miscellaneous household items


• Visited the cafe run by a young, hip pastor for stupendous chocolate torta and lattes on our way to town (no Starbucks in Arequipa - yeyeyeyeyeyeyey!!!)


• Did a full on grocery run at ¨El Super¨near Plaza des Armes


• Enjoyed a Sunday afternoon stroll with Jim, Leon and Kerri to the Plaza des Armes (where I bought my first but not my last bit of Peruvian jewelry)
  
• Then had cheesy pizza, garlic bread and wine for dinner


• Read some more Theroux - he is now in Guatamala City!


• Watched several DVDs with my housemates: Year One, Ice Age III, District 9 and the Curious Case of Benajamin Button

Yes the DVD phenonemon. Not exactly what I´d expect to be discussing in a report about my first weekend in Arequipa, but it´s true! DVDs are a dime a dozen here - only 2 soles so about 50 cents each and of fine quality and broad, most up-to-date cinematic range. For us at the house it has become a nice, easy way to pass the post dinner evening hours. I have yet to experience my first official ¨work¨day of Spanish lessons and teaching at the school but according to everyone here the weekdays are exhausting. Energy for dinner, some homework and/or lesson planning, and another DVD seems to be about all that remains before bed. So I expect to be watching a lot of them while I am here. Which just about cracks me up.

But right now it is Monday morning and my first Spanish lesson begins shortly so I am off to make some breakfast and start the day.

Adios and love from Arequipa.

PS. This is the tel de casa: 226738 (and I think you dial +51 for Peru followed by +54 for Arequipa first) - FYI! :)

Having Arrived

This is far from an official post. Just a quick note to note that I have arrived. Day 1 as smooth as can be imagined, complete with prompt takeoff and connection in Lima. House full of sweet young volunteers from England, Australia, Holland, Baltimore and NYC ... and some new ones arriving next week. Met them all over a farewell dinner at a Mexican (!) restaurant in town since the Dutch ones are leaving Tuesday. Tomorrow morning a bunch of us are heading to market. Then Monday my official new routine begins: Spanish lessons by morning, teaching English to Peruvian children by afternoon. Buenos noches for now.

Theroux

I am reading Theroux's The Old Patagonian Express describing his journey circa 1976 "by train to the Americas" ... from BOSTON.  Yep.  I've only made it as far as Chicago with Paul and so far his train has been severely delayed by crazy winter snow storms and he's drinking a lot of vodka-infused "pick me ups" in the dining car.  Eventually, the story has it, he really does arrive in Patagonia, as far as Esquel in Argentina (quite near where I also hope to eventually be in Bariloche).  He's a great writer, attuned to all the important details of train sounds and smells and passenger etiquette.   The book was a going away present from Moni who inscribed it perfectly to say:

To Karen, my fellow adventurer.

All great journeys combine a good measure of ups with a few unavoidable downs. Later, in retrospect, the downs - magically - turn into unforgettable memories.  

Cherish every moment.

In his introduction to the book Theroux provides some context and offers an observation I find comforting -- especially today my day of (imminent) departure in this dreary cold rain :

"...A book like this... is not a problem to study and annotate.  It is something I wrote to give pleasure; something to enjoy. You should be able to see these people and places, to hear them and smell them. Of course, some of it is painful, but travel - its very motion - ought to suggest hope. Despair is the armchair; it is indifference and glazed, incurious eyes. I think travelers are essentially optimists, or else they would never go anywhere..."

Yep.  See you next in Peru!

The bag

I decided to try my new backpack out tonight, a super lightweight burgundy Gregory Jade 50. Figured this would  give me a solid 48 hours to see that everything fits, decide what may be dispensable, and realize what crucial thing I am about to forget.  Thank goodness Leeron was around to help (so happy she is here!).   Turns out she's picked up quite a few good packing tips whilst on that nice little 5 month journey around the world.  And then there was the moral support of sisterhood ...   Together we pounded the sleeping bag to stuff it good and tight at the very bottom of the backpack, then began to layer up 2 months' worth of "bare necessities."

Despite my careful checklist, these "necessities" stopped feeling so bare as the weight began to increase with every extra sock.   Hey, why take 4 pairs when you can take 3?!  The one pair of jeans I want to bring feels like a luxury item (who knew denim was so heavy??) and I am still trying to decide whether I should take them.  I probably will.  I could hang out in my hiking pants the whole time but this may become intolerable, especially when I am not hiking.  

The good news is the bag was about 85% packed with room to spare and was altogether transportable when I traipsed around the room with it on my back.   Gabrielle suggested I give my backpack a test drive on the Central Park loop before I leave but I have a sneaking feeling this is not going to happen.   I'm just going to trust the backpack thing will work out without me hyperventilating too much about it.  Tomorrow I will pack it again with the whole lot thrown in.   By Thursday I will have it down to a science.  

Four days left

Hi.  I leave for South America in four days now.   Strange to realize this trip is no longer "in October" or "next month" or ... "2 weeks away!!"  Now, when someone asks when I leave for South America, I get to simply say "Thursday."  Which feels like a huge mental shift somehow, a sign that this trip is really happening.

It's been a long time coming and I do finally (at last) also feel ready.  The research has been done, the assorted trustworthy friends consulted, the trekking gear bought.  My trip felt real for real when I actually went ahead and bought the ticket, complete with actual dates of departure and return which is how these things are done.  There were decisions to be made. Where to fly to? From whence to return?  How long was too long ... and too short?  The purpose of my journey was clear:  I wanted enough time to really experience South America, to actually learn and ingrain (once and for all) the language in my head, to discover something unexpected and new - about myself too.    The fact that it felt a little scary seemed part of the point.   Nobody travels in search of what is comfortable.  Traveling is inherently a bit of a quest.  

So I've settled on 2 months, returning only coincidentally on my sister's 33rd birthday, December 14th.  Or maybe that was why that date felt right?  Two months feels right too. Enough time to travel in a way that will feel not rushed and meaningful, and allow room for spontaneity alongside careful plans.  I will be volunteering in Arequipa, hiking the Inca trail to Machu Picchu, trekking in Patagonia, and meeting assorted friends along the way - a few old, the rest new.  Within these roughly sketched parameters, I will be "making it up" as I go along. 

This blog will be where I report back on what gets revealed along the way.  When my friend John suggested I keep one I said no way.  I was not taking my cell phone.   I was eager to disconnect.  But (as Claudia pointed out) I do think I will look forward to this aspect of the trip and hope I will have the opportunity to report back often, as Internet cafes present themselves to me.  With this, my first entry, I realize too how excited I am by the prospect of my very first blog - both to communicate with whoever cares to know but mostly (selfishly?) to help process for myself what is happening.  

Also, I really enjoy getting to say the word "blllog" over and over again out loud.   

Adios for now.