24 hours in Cartagena

I think i may have come across the most beautiful city in the world. I leave this as a possibility only because i haven`t seen it all, yet... Nonetheless, Cartagena sits atop the pantheon of awe-inspiring sites. Founded as a major port-city by the Spanish Conquistadors in the 17th century, the city had seen rapid growth along-side increasing wealth of its European sponsor.

A slightly naighty rendition of a Jesuit brother saving the souls of Cartagena...

With piracy (or privateering for the British patriots among us) becoming a major industry, millions were spent to fortify the city, resulting in a heavy wall that surrounds the old city, as well as a string of impressive fortresses and stockades. As we all know, wealth translates to luxury, as displayed in the grandiose chruches and mansions dotting the Old City center. Yet Getsemani, which once once the slaves`quarter and is now a backpackers`haven, would be be put to shame by its advantaged counterpart. Bright colors such as Orange and Yellow dominate the facades, framing rich wooden doors and balconies which hang above the street-walkers. One could easily spend hours simply walking with head held high and eyes completely enraptured.

an urban labndscape from Getsemani

Cartagena rests on the Caribbean, and its location clearly dictates the way of life. Music of various Latin flavors can be heard throughout the Night (and day) from businesses and private homes alike. Doors are rarely closed, both to let in the cool breeze, as well as provide an easy way of communicating with the neighbors. Some even choose to place their furniture outside, leading to block-wide congragations on the street corners. Drinks are imbibed as early as noon, whether on the beach, sitting on one´s own stoop, or at a cafe´filled with suit-clad office workers.

Setting up for an evening`s Salsa event...

Within the city center

Highlights from my day, the first in Cartagena:

1) After a 5.5 month wait, suffering through a never ending cold streak...I SWAM IN THE SEA, the Caribbean, to be sure! A shjort swimming competition with one of th locals followed by making sand-flavored ice cream with a 6 year-old kid was all i could manage before a tropical rain threatened of a coming storm.

Sorry, didn`t bring my camera to the beach. This is as close as you`ll get for now...

2) Cartaghena modern art museum: some amazing pieces by various South American arists such as Peruvian Fernando de Szyszlo and Colombian Enrique Grau.

Enrique Grau`s interpretation of a Cartagena panorama...

That little pale strip on the bleeding heart is an actual band-aid, so don`t fret...

This is my little `Kanye West University` moment (Weezy puts up pics of his favorite furniture on his blog)

3) Its only 17:30...i´ll have more as the sun sets and the night progresses.

Visit Cartagena...

p.s.

They water in bag form... Much cheaper than the antiquated bottle.

Back in the Jungle

Currently updating this blog from the first internet cafe in my trip to have private booths for computers... I´m in the ´G´rated section, but oh so curious...

Given that the waters are lower these days on the route from Pucallpa to Iquitos, causing a 3 day trip to become a 7 day ordeal, I´ve opted for the Gringo-express, sitting in on a flight populated by erratic Southerners (Texans, none the less) and some Peruvian business-men. But before I get to Iquitos, quite a fantastic site, let me re-cap abit about my time in Pucallpa, or rather San Francisco, a native Shibipo community resting by the banks of lake Yarinacocha.

The way to San Francisco...

Most tourists traveling to San Francisco spend about Thirty minutes in the town, long enough to buy áuthentic, original´Shibipo crafts. Pardon the sarcasm, which i tend to have an overwhleming quantity of at times. Most residents of the community depend on such tourism for their daily bread. San Francisco is lucky enough to be easily accesible and close to Pucallpa. Other, more remote communities suffer from extreme poverty and a lack of means. The Shibipo have more or less assimilated to ´modern´ Peruvian society, yet have n means of strayting staying afloat in the market economy. This is actually a syptom of greater Peruvian society. Many people find themselves juggling various jobs or inventing new ones, such as bus-traveling salesmen, or any of a million types of small-time merchants.

The Shibipo culture is traditionally animist, believing in spirits which make up a grand energy. Though many have been converted to Catholicism, and some to the various evangelical churches, most retain some pre-Western beliefs. Some, such as my hosts, remain pure pagans. A central part of their belief system is based on the use of a vine called Ayahuasca. Containing mescaline, the vine is consumed in order to attain a visionary state. Ayahuasca is used for therapeutic purposes, such as weaning off addictions and for purification, as well as attaining judgements and prophecies. The process of making the Ayahuasca is quite arduous, involving the bashing of vines with blunt objects, and then boiling them for hours with another hallucinatory plant, eventually resulting in a thick, bark smelling brown liquid of immense strength.

The Ayahuaca vines cut u, ready to be smashed...

These two immense pots will eventually produce only a liter of prepared Ayahuasca...

The result: the brown liquid is prepared ayahuaca. Next to it are too other elixirs made to help guide and protect those who take part in the ceremony...

Where the ceremonies take place...

My experience with the plant was amazing, and am grateful to the Muiñoz family for taking me in and teaching me about their culture and history. Yes, i was given a message by the plant, but ifyou want to know the details of my session, email me. I´m working on the piece right now.

Ayahuasca-influenced art...

Iquitos: 600,000 strong, Iquitos is the largest city not accesible by road (Apparently the government is working on it) The city has become a central hub for jungle-tourism, overflowing with gringos out for an adventure. Usually a jungle excursion consists of either staying at a lodge or building your our temporary shelter, as well as hunting/fishing your own food and walking around looking for exotic flora/fauna. Pretty interesting stuff, and equally expensive as well. As i´ve already enjoyed my jungle enough in Bolivia and Ecuador, my stay in Iquiots is quite a different experience. Earlier today, i visited a butterfly farm run by an Austrian lady. In addition to the butterflys, she also shelters orphan monkeys, a jaguar, tapir and a manitee. Pedro the Jaguar is 6 years old, weighing in at 80 kilos. He arrived at the park in a small box wrapped in barbed-wire by some hunter who couldn´t find a sale. Unfortunately the story is not uncommon, its good to know that there are places like this farm. Aright, enough talk, on to pics...

Just your average 2 meter (10 feet) long cayman...

p.s.
Funny thing about Ayahuasca, which is by now quite a popular activity in commercialized Iquiots. Though used for centuries by various cultures in this area of South America, the vine has been recently patented by an American business-men. In other words, everyone who imbibes in Ayahuasca officially owes this person money. Gotta love it...

Santa Cruz trek, Huaraz

The following is quite messy and all over the place. I have just returned from a trek and my mind is still at 4800 meters, so bear with me.

proof...

Following that thrilling excuse for a prelude, i´ll delve into the header. Locals call this area Paradise, or Peru´s most beautiful trek. The Santa Cruz circuit is a four-day trek within the famous cordillera Blanca, which teamed up with Cordillera Huayhuash make up one of the world´s most famous trekking regions. Ever seen that trademark sign Paramount Pictures has? the one with a snowcapped mountain and stars around it? I passed by that yesterday afternoon...

The most beautiful mountain my eyes have ever grasped...

Reaching a (literally) breathless 4800 meter Mountain pass, the trek takes you from temperate forrestry to snocapped glaciers, only to return through a lagoon-filled valley. Needless to say, there is a seriosu threat of falling over since your hread is usually too busy to look forward. Our group consited of 5 Israelis, a Canadian, a French couple, A Brazilian, an Aussie, and me (put me in whichever category you wish).

The others, as awestruck as me...

Our Guide, San Juan de Chancho (a nice nickname he gained for calling me Gil, literally means saint John of the pig...long story), was this 40+ old hombre on his umpteenth time in this circuit, but loving every moment of it. He is currently saving money with another guide in order to fly over to Israel and do shvil Israel, a month-long trek traversing the entire country...and like most Israelis who do that trek, he wishes to then go to India.
Nothing more I can say will justify the views i´ve had the pleasure of catching, and so I ho'pe my photos will help...

Lagoon at 4700 meters

Within the heavens-high canyon en route to the mountain pass...

I figured you´d all be interested to know what Hamlet looks like doing yoga at 4800 meters...

On a completely different note, some tidbits I believe you may enjoy:

1) 28th of July marks Peruvian independence day. In a proud display of liberal democracy enjoyed by the nation, a law forces every single establishment to place a flag of the Country somewhre on its premises. Failure to do so will result in a fine. vive la democracia!

The Cabbie´s broken wind-shield is from trying to run through a strike...

2) Lima: Just wanted to slip some pics in. Often an under-appreciated city, Lima is the first real metropolis I have come across since Buenos Aires bac in March. My theory on this trip thus far has been: Cities are a drain, but if you insist on sticking one in my path, better make it a REAL one. Buenos Aires was amazing, and Dima has its charm too. So don´t avoid it! enjoy the ceviche...

A cloister within the National Public Library...

A Moorish-influenced cross in Iglesia San Francisco, which also boasts over 70,000 bones in its catacombs, and a library fit for Harry Potter...

3) I release the following photo because, well franbkly i think its hilarious...but for the sake of those more religious or PC-minded (and my sake as well) avoid this last part, por favor!





Anyone wanna know how to offend billions of people in one shot? The following is a photo of someone wearing a devil´s mask. The mask is used on a certain holiday in Peru which doesnt necessarily include el Diablo. Yet this very same face is the one used to represent the Gringo (Spaniard in this case) devil worshipped in the Potosi mines of Bolivia (see prior entry on Potosi). Anyways, the photo is a bit blurry due to a subpar camera, but if you look hard enough, you may see the devil ´frontin´Jesus Cristo, possibly contemplating a nice snack...Wait, it gets even worse. This certain person, feverish after an arduous trek and little sleep, happens to be standing upon what is believed to be the navel of the Andean world- the very area where the crucial Incan holdiay of Intiraymi is celebrated...That person should be told something, right?

Someone should inform him that this devil is a Gringo...

The horror...

I am completing this entry from Pucallpa, well within the jungles of Peru (Finally, some heat). It took me 2 buses and about 28 hours, and 2 armed guards (long story) but i finally made it. Hopefully, net time you hear from me, i´ll be in Iquitos, on my way to Columbia.

Suerte!

the road to Macchu Pitchu

I got to Cuzco last Saturday, yet given the limited schedule of my travel partners, we had to head out on the trek to Macchu Picchu ASAP. The traditional Inka Trail route costs over $300 and requires a reservation months ahead, and so we opted to the equally interesting, if a bit harder Salkantay route. A 5 day trek that spans mountain passes at over 3500 meters as well as routes through jungles, the Salkantay trek a beautiful path to the lengendary Inca ruins. I'll spare you all the details regarding the trek, as my mind is a bit fried from fever, but i'll jot down random highlights and (of course) the pictures:

Walking up to Salkantay Mountain, considered a protector (Apu) of the Inca people

1) Shvaffle: recognized as national word of the year 2008 in The Netherlands, the word actually means using one's phallus as an object to slap or whip with. The two Dutch travelers on our trek were fiercely proud of this fact, to the point of proving its popularity on youtube (check it, its all there). Needless to say it quickly became the theme of the trip. Unfortunately i have yet to be sent a wonderful picture of a communal shvaffeling of Macchu picchu, but check back with the blog...it'll be uploaded soon.

2) Mules: we all know about mules from playing 'Oregon Trail' on the computer or reading something about the pioneers, but how many of you have actually seen one? they actually look like horses! only stouter and more docile. Incredible! no? how unfortunate that you've lost the zest for the simple things in life...especially when its a mule carrying your gear for most of the trek instead of you.

The true stars of this trek...

3) Bus people vs. walking people: there should be some law or regulation providing those who worked their ass off to get to a site with V.I.P entrance, or atleast some preference. Climbing up to Macchu Picchu only to get into line behind 2 bus loads of people all dry and warm...sloth should not be rewarded!

Day 3 of the trek, from ice to primery forest

That's about it, all else is a mix of inside jokes and facts interesting solely those who were there. Oh Yea, the site is quite impressive. We climbed up to to Macchu Picchu in 35 minutes (they recommend 1.5 hours) and up Huayna Picchu in 25 minutes (first ones there). We began damanding 5 soles a photo from the other tourists, or else we'd ruin the magic moment with a monstrous shvaffling session...they didn't enjoy the joke.

partial view of the site, with Huayna Picchu in the background

View of Macchu Picchu fro Huayna Picchu

Yea, i know Natinal Geographic´s photos are better...

no M.I.A, this is Third World Democracy

Finally, and most reluctantly, I moved on from Bolivia to Peru. Soles instead of Bolivians, triangular bread instead of round buns...that´s about it for the differences... Na, just a jest, i´m not that ignant...

After an interesting stay at Isla del Sol, birthplace of the Inca, it was to be a simple 2.5 hour ride to Puno in Peru. But frankly, it never is just that simple in the land of third-world democracies. In a ride spanning 10 roadblocks, various bribe-attempts and a few thrown rocks, we spent a wonderful 6 hours waiting to reach our destination. Next to me sat 3 tear-filled Germans who paid 5 times the ticket-price and were now being badgered to cough up some more. I stepped up , given the Ïsraeli blood flowing¨ in my veins (qouth Ari Gold) and my usable spanish, and chewed out the ladron (bad guy) abit, and so the driver got the picture and ended the hustling. We reached Puno at 11 pm, found a cheap hostel and crashed. Early the next day we had our first experienced with the better, more triangular bread and headed over to the floating Islands.

up in the yacht...

The Uros Natives built these islands out of totora reeds to escape encroachment of the Incas and Aymaras, the dominant tribes of the time. They have been living on these reed-islands for centuries, replacing the éarth´every six months or so. By now, they have lost their native laguage and much of their traditions, and currently live upon the money of Gringos, but its still quite fascinating to come into contact with those who refuse to relinquish their cultural ways, even if it only consists of trappings without too much essence. On to Ariquipa...

Nlock upon Block of Totoro

12th c. version of Six Flags...

No roadblocks this time, only a lamb hanging out on the person sitting next to me, and a new phenomenon to be encountered: bus riding-salesmen. That´s correct- instead of movies or the usual Cumbia soundtrack blared over the speakers, we were treated to a constant onslaught of fiery preachers of Capitalism, hawking everything from soap, to educational cd-roms, and onto vitamin powders. And yes, they managed to sell to the people. By the end of the ride, soap was flying at me from all angles as the the bus made its kamikaze turns in the city.

Ariquipa is known as the white city, given the volcanic rock used for much of its architecture. A pretty city in the South of Peru, it is the major port to Colca Canyon, an immense natural treasure twice as deep as the Grand Canyon, at 4,160. And I was to climb it all!!!

The Canyon about half way down

We left Ariquipa at 1:30 am, on a 5 hour ride that left us at Cabanaconde. Still in that twilight between sleep and awareness, we began our trek to to the first village within the canyon. A 3 hour cascade down 1,200 meters brings us to San Juan de Chouchu. Most will settle in there for the night, but given the fact that this was an Israeli-spirited independent team of trekkers, we opted for the éxpress´trek. Continuing on, we took the harder way (not on purpose) and ended up climbing a steep, 1 hour route to Tapay. From there it would take 3 hours and two villages to reach our final destination, a hospedaje in the bottom of the valley by the name of Óasis´. It was 1:30 pm, and we were actually too tired to jump into the natural stream-water pool. After catching our breath and feasting on classic trekking food (tuna, cold cuts, cheese, rolls anyone?) we passed out at 6:30 pm, scared shitless of the trek´s second part.

Cabaconde, able to read since 1995!

We awoke at 2 am, muscles sore and head definately not ín the game´. We had over 1,100 meters to climb in what was touted as a 3 hour trek for girngos, 2 for locals. The reason for this ungodly hour simply was that the first bus to leave Cabaconde was at 7 am. This vry same bus would be the only one stopping at Cruz del Condor, where closeby is a large colony of Andean Condors. Being on an Ísraeli´trek, we did not want to spend the 35 soles paying entry for the site, especially when we can get in for free by this route. We began the ascent at 2:30 AM...it was hell. The Red Hot chili Peppers in my ears did not help. The Coca leaves barely kept me going. 20 minutes from the top, a local who couldnt have been younger than 65 finds me on my upteenth break. Asked how much longer there is, he informs me there is 20 minutes left, and demands I get a move-on with him, because it is ´getting cold´Singed by an elderly man outshining me, I did my best to keep up. The man has made this climb countless times, and hisconnection to the land was so pure and glaring, he used neither flashlight (complete darkness in the canyon) nor any other tool for finding his way up. He was actually able to walk and talk during this rediculous ascent!

Looks fearless, dont he?

We finally made it to the top, 2.5 hours later (better than gringos!) and ended up being the first ones in the plaza waiting for the bus. In the end, the bus stopped in Cruz del Condor for only 5 minutes, and inspectors were there waiting to charge us (this is what happens when Gringos find out and try to use Israeli tricks!!!) but we couldn´t care too much, given the extreme case of fatigue we were in, leading me to the following conclusion: Sure, the trek is amaizng and the sights are incredible, but I just spent 2 years walking long distances carrying heavy shit...Why do so now on my break? Sadly, as a proud member of the species...I won´t learn my lesson!

A cross and a scarecrow, or Scary Jesus for all you cynical non-believers...

p.s.

Just finished Zorba the Greek, traded it for Kiss of the Spider Woman...wish me luck!

La Paz

An oasis for some, an unfortunately neccesary stop-over for others, La Paz is a city of clashes and contradictions that combined with a potential case of altitude sickness leaves the traveler confused and exhausted. Between the highs ( the mountain of Huayana Potosi peaks at 6024 meters) and the ´highs´of the 24-hour Cocaine dens, there lies a wide realm of the eccentric and curious.

A sign warning what product will be confinscated at random drug search...OR, the recipe for some great Bolivian Yay...

Walk down the ´Witches Market´and you will see dead Llama fetuses, used as a good luck charm when buried under one´s house, or coca-leaf reading fortune-tellers. Coming across Plaza San Pedro, one could never guess this pristine centrally-located square neighbors a major prison. For those who haven´t read ´Marching Powder¨, San Pedro prison is quite unique in its nature- It is so corrupt that some prisoners own ápartments´within the prison, stocked with all the amenities of a modern household, while others freeze to death without a cell. There are restaurants, pool-halls, and the best Cocaine labs in the country. Even more, the children of prisoners are allowed to live within the prison walls, leaving through the front gate every day for school...

Back home from school...

For the ´Gringo´trail, La Paz represents a point of leisure. Given the cheap prices, ready availability of supplies natural to a major city, and an entire network deticated to gringos, some find themselves stretching a week stay to several months. For Israelis, La Paz is a chance to buy gifts cheap, and send packages back home. There are several hostels geared towards Israeli travelers as well as a nice selection of places for hummus, falafel, and anything else the mochilero potentially misses. I had proper turkish coffee for the first time in almost half a year, accompanied by a Bolivian attempt at Knafeh...at least they tried.

A semi-regualr sight by the Presidential palace...



Personally, La Paz represented the highway to Gringo-sterility. I seriously believe that some of the travelers who have spent over a month in this City alone haven´t actually ventured from the secure walls of the Irish-themed party hostels. Surely it is their prerogative, but i would ventire to say that if somehow miraculously the ´Gringo hostels´were to be transplanted onto another country...say Uganda for example..I´m not sure the guests would notice, at least for the first week. They will still eat, drink, sleep, party, etc. in the same complex. Sure, the currency would be different, but to many of the travelers here in La Paz its little more than monopoly money...The language would naturally be a bit different as well, but that shouldn´t bother the majority too much, seeing as they haven´t bothered to grasp Spanish either. This is quite a generalization, and I clearly do not mean this about everyone. But you know how much fun stereotyping is, right?

Midway through the World´s most dangerous road

Those scrapes there on the helmet, yea...I made those.

On a completely different note. Dawn today represents the Winter Solstice, a day of magnificient importance for the Aymara people in Bolivia. Last night We were fortunate to share in the celebrations all night in the ruins of Tiwanaku, about an hour out of La Paz. All-night concerts, dancing and drinking was then followed by a ceremony of ´sun-receiving´. Traditionally, the Aymara would receive the new sun at dawn, arms lanced forward, in order to receive its rays during the frigid morning, and hopefully receive good fortune for the coming years. The night was spent dnacing with others in large circles, communal sharing of drinks (including heated wine, and te con te, which is coca tea and Potable- %96 alcohol), jumping over camp-fires, and keeping warm in -5 degree weather.

The cultural gap, bridged by alcohol...

Jumping that burning ring of fire

The ceremony consisted of raising the Bolivian flag over the ruins of the great temple in Tiwanaku as the sun began to shine. Our view was somewhat limited, yet unfortunately a last-minute plunge into the line of diplomats entering the premises bore new fruit. Apparently I don´t look official enough...The festival was incredible, especially since it was a first real interaction with the local population since i´ve arrived in La Paz.

Receiving the Sun...

With a little help from the sun, the roadblocks leading to Cuzco will disappear by tomorrow and I will be able to make it to the Inca Sun Festival, Intiraymi, set to take place during the night of the 23rd.

Who said Bolivians don´t like israelis?

Last, and assuredly least, I´ve been constantly baggered by fans to upload more photos with my mug in them. Here´s one from back at the camp. More to come...Happy now, Mom and Dad?