A gnome's travel tips

Over the years, I've had lots of people ask me for travel tips, especially for Latin America. Given that this is only my third trip south, I'm no expert, but I thought I'd put together some tips for people thinking of heading to Central or South America.

1) Learn Spanish: seriously. The more Spanish (more properly called Castillano) I've learned over the years, the more friendly the people have been, the more I've been able to do, and yes, the cheaper things have been in markets and shops. I know it's a no brainer,  but you would be amazed how many people come here without a lick of Spanish, and often with a refusal to learn. I usually take classes in a Spanish school if I'm somewhere for a long time, and the benefit is massive. 

2) stay in a few places long term rather than hopping around a whole bunch: I have a preference to moving as little as possible. Yes, it's exciting to see lots of cool places, but if you only have a month or two on your trip, don't be one of those people who skips around a lot and tries to see everything. First, in many cases it's the actual act of travelling which is expensive. And second, you will never see everything. My goal is quality over quantity. I love making relationships with people, casual hangouts, dinner parties, and having my own place. As I write this, I'm living in a house in Pisaq, Peru, where I've been for almost three weeks. In a two month trip, I'll only have visited three destinations (Iquitos, the area near Santiago, and Pisaq). And the depth of experience has been awesome.

3) if you stay long term, rent a house: often much cheaper than a hostal, and you end up with a kitchen, your own space, and some quiet time. It's been wonderful to have the experience of home while travelling, and the kitchen has meant I've saved money on eating out, while enjoying the comfort food I love. And since I love fermenting, having a home has meant I can enjoy my passion and share it with friends. It also means that you can avoid buying bottled water, and instead buy refills of the large 23 L water containers, and prevent so much plastic from heading to the landfill.

4) speaking of eating, eat lunch in the public markets: public markets in Latin America usually feature produce, household things, and plenty of delicious food. For lunch, you can usually get a full meal (which in Peru is a soup, drink, and a main dish) for about $2. The food is usually delicious, wholesome, and fresh. And, you can meet interesting people and strike up good conversation. I usually find a lunch vendor I like, then eat there almost every day. If you do eat out, the busier the establishment or vendor, the better food and less likely you are to get sick.

5) get out of the major touristy cities: there's nothing I dislike more (well, perhaps there are a few things) than being stuck in the middle of a really touristy city. There's always someone trying to sell you something, it's loud, it's smelly, and most of the shops are geared towards tourists (hostals, travel agencies, money exchanges, cheap souvenirs, and restaurants). It can be expensive, and really draining. Often, there are smaller towns just a short bus trip away which offer cheaper accommodations,  more peace and quiet, and still allow one to enjoy the city when they wish.

6) bring a veggie peeler: yep, people think I'm weird, but hear me out! When travelling by bus, there's nothing worse than crappy, packaged snack food. I bring a Leatherman knife and a veggie peeler in order to chop and peel things like cucumber on busses, so I can have avocado and cucumber on tortillas (or whatever else). Often, the peels of veggies and fruits in developing countries are contaminated with parasites and other baddies, so a peeler offers a quick solution. Plus, the locals look at you like you're crazy.

7) bring a bunch of reusable produce bags: everything is in plastic here. Even when I'm buying a pack of batteries and am wearing a backpack, people automatically assume I want it in a plastic bag. Be good to the environment, and bring reusable mesh produce bags. Not only are they cool (the locals often express to me how much they like them), but you'll dramatically reduce your plastic consumption. Thank you, mom, for the amazing and very useful gift!

8) buy your beer in big bottles: small bottles are usually tossed in the garbage, while large bottles have a deposit and will be recycled.

9) be very careful whom you do ceremony with: this tip may not be for everyone, but if you plan to take ceremonial substances while abroad, be very careful with your selection of curanderos or shaman. I see many offerings of various ceremonies, and to be honest a lot of them seem really sketchy. People even offer bottles of ayahuasca to me in the street, which I find really strange and disconcerting. If you are travelling in South America, and are looking for a legit experience with ayahuasca or San Pedro, I suggest checking out the website http://AyaAdvisor.org. There, you will find a directory of centers and curanderos offering ceremony, as well as reviews. If you have had any experiences in this area, please add your feedback and reviews on AyaAdvisor. Others will be grateful!

10) you don't need to book tours to enjoy the scenery: yes,  I've been on tours, and have enjoyed myself. But generally, I prefer to make my own way to see the sights, and take my time. Tours are generally much less work than solo planning, but they can be quite rushed, are often quite expensive, and don't allow one to go at their own pace and experience a depth of appreciation. While I took the whole day each to explore the ruins of Ollantaytambo and Pisaq, and a whole separate day to enjoy Moray and Salinas, many groups were doing all four in a single day! Cool if you don't have much time, but there's no way you can say you've seen the whole sacred valley in just a few days.

11) say yes to as much as you can: I've found that the few things I regret about my travels are the things I said 'no' to. Sometimes amazing, once in a lifetime experiences are put before you, and you need only say yes. In my case, this had led to exploring landscapes I never would have seen, making amazing friends, and having life changing experiences. Perhaps it'll push you from your comfort zone, but I thoroughly believe that everything is put before you for a reason. Say yes.

12) just go with the flow: you're fortunate enough to be in a foreign country with a completely different culture and way of life. Yes, things might be a little dirty. Yes, the food might be strange. And yes, things are not done the way they are at home. Busses are not usually scheduled, people drive like maniacs, there are sometimes chickens and goats on the bus, there's garbage, dogs and dog shit everywhere, it's loud, toilet paper has to go in a waste basket, you have to be careful with water, the beer often sucks, you often get wrong directions, taxi drivers try to rip you off, the atm runs out of money, and folks constantly try to sell you things. And so much more. Keep a good sense of humor, and just roll with it.

13) stay away from illegal drugs: while it can be tempting to enjoy various illegal substances while abroad, remember that you're not in your home country. In most places in the world, illegal drugs can land you in a heap of trouble. I'm aware of a few stories about dealers and police working together in order to extract heavy bribes from tourists, and other stories of people facing extremely serious charges and stiff jail time. If you're going to use drugs anyways, be extremely careful and discreet, and be very mindful of whom you buy from.

14) have as much fun as possible: you're on vacation! Laugh, love, learn, and linger. Be silly, stretch beyond your comfort zone, make friends, stay up late drinking, take time to smell the roses (or datura), sleep in, walk slowly, stare into space, read books and swing in hammocks, make music, and try to be as authentic a person as you can. Travel will change you, and almost always for the better. Take time to really be yourself. 

Cusco: Coffee, beer, alpaca wool, Pisaq, and general observations from my second visit.

Well, it finally happened! After five years, countless daydreams, a few bumps in the road, a deep calling from my soul, one wonderful ticket purchase, and 22 hours on a bus, I've finally made it back to Cusco and the sacred valley. I can't begin to describe how happy I am to be here again. As I finish writing this, I've actually moved on to Pisaq, a much smaller town about 40 minutes from Cusco. But I'm still in the area, and loving it.

And I had forgotten how much the altitude takes it out of you! A night without sleep on the bus here (hard to sleep on a bus taking steep switchbacks all night), plus a jump from sea level to 11,000 feet makes for a rough landing in town. That said, I first settled into Atawkama hostel, which is in the old location of Hostal Magico where I stayed a number of years ago for several weeks. Memories are flooding back, of friends made here, adventures shared, and generally enjoyable experiences. The rooms even have the same names, 'Pintor', 'Principito', 'Danza' to name a few, and after I finish writing this tonight I intend to go sit on the terrace, sip on some beer, and watch the world go by. (actually, I got distracted and ended up watching a movie! ) Cusco really is a neat place, although I've heard it said that it has lost much of the charm which made it such a great place to visit. It seems that practically every corner is a hostal, restaurant, tourism agency, massage studio, alpaca wool shop, or cafe. And everywhere a person is hounded for massages, to buy expensive and fake reproduction products, to take an overpriced Machu Picchu tour, and eat at a restaurant. Yes, you can still find amazing holes in the wall, such as the well-hidden studio of a master luthier, one of only two such masters in all of Peru, whom makes the most amazing charrangos, flutes and 16 string guitars. Or the unfortunately not-well-advertised Coca Museum, where you can learn an incredible amount about that marvelous plant, and buy a wide assortment of coca products (I bought coca honey, tried coca wine and coca pisco liquor, and found an alternative to baking soda to use as the alkaline material to chew coca with). The museums and cathedrals here are incredible, especially the exhibits on colonial religious art (moving in ways I can't describe). The viewpoints in the city are incredible, the big white Jesus statue is fun to hike up to, there are lots of cool ruins nearby; there really is so much to do and see. But I felt the need to leave Cusco soon for somewhere quieter, and I think my wallet and head space will thank me too.

For my sake and yours, I'm not going to rehash the details about Cusco, it's history or my first impressions of it. All of that stuff was covered in great detail in a previous blog entry (http://nagdeo.blogspot.com/2011/03/thoughts-from-afar.html) If you want more, the internet is full of great writeups on Andean history, culture, and spirituality. But I wanted to share a few interesting new observations and such which I've picked up this time around.

First, I'd always been curious about how the vendors here can make so much alpaca wool stuff (blankets, sweaters, etc) for the tourist market, and still sell them so cheap. I've seen sweaters sold as low as s./25, about $10, though many are sold for around $20. Amazingly cheap though. So I spoke with a woman whom runs a higher end alpaca wool shop (with absolutely stunning handmade scarves, sweaters, and other textiles). She told me that, indeed, the vast majority of stuff marketed as 'alpaca' and sold on the street or in artisan markets is made of synthetic materials, and contains little, if any, real alpaca wool. Many are labeled '100% Peru', with a picture of an Alpaca, suggesting a connection. So the 'Peru traveler's uniforms' one sees so many people sporting, the leg warmers, scarves, sweaters, gloves, etc which tourists fawn over and buy in droves? All mass produced with synthetic materials. Yep. Sorry to burst anyone's bubble. True alpaca wool garments will be labeled with exactly how much of it is alpaca, should feel much softer to the touch, and supposedly are cool to the touch as well. And you will not find them for $10. The store I was in (yes, it was high end) sold sweaters for s./ 300 - 500, about $120 to $200. This evening, I saw scarves for s./800, or $350. Another was a full bedspread for close to $800. That said, these higher priced items are handmade, are of exquisite quality and detail, and are made by master weavers using traditional means. That is the true difference between real and fake alpaca.
And now I can't bring myself to buy anything but the real thing. Perhaps ignorance is truly bliss.

Second thing I've noticed - it is SO much easier to find amazing coffee in Cusco (and almost everywhere else I've been in South America). Today alone I had coffee at two different artisan cafes, and saw quite a few more during my previous city tour. During my last trip it was almost impossible to find decent coffee, and for this reason I assumed I'd be off coffee for these two months. Ha. Silly gnome.

Third - the microbrewery revolution has made it to Cusco! The old standard and best of the larger companies, Cusqueña (whose dark lager I'm drinking as I write this) now has a few more brews, including a red ale and a quinoa beer (nothing to write home about, but still enjoyable), while the menus at pubs here often advertise micro-brewed and artisan beers alongside the usual domestic and imports. There are even pubs exclusively dedicated to craft beer. Cusco has it's first microbrewery now, called Dragon, and there's also the Sacred Valley brewing company nearby. I haven't yet tried any of their beers, but fully intend to. And might have to write an entire blog entry about it. Last night I thoroughly enjoyed a barley wine made in Lima, oddly named after Barry White.

Yes, I realize that all this stuff involving coffee and beer is simply catering to the demands of international tourism, and that folks like me from privileged nations are driving these industries, many of which are potentially detracting from the rich indigenous culture and heritage which people came here for in the first place. That said, it's a fact that tourism isn't going anywhere, and that the locals (and gringo expats) can make a good living by bringing here those little things which folks like me really want. And honestly, I'm willing to pay the extra dollar to drink good beer and coffee instead of shitty beer and Nescafe. And who knows what kind of creativity can flourish here through those mediums, creating beautiful new expressions of local culture. Perhaps beer using plants only found in this region (there is coca beer in Cusco!) Or Cusco-style kopi luwak, or black ivory coffee, but digested and excreted by llamas instead of civets or elephants. And without the animal cruelty issues.

On another note: the civic design of Cusco was originally designed by the Inka Pachacutec to resemble the side profile of a Puma. That said, the city has grown and changed so much that it's not really obvious anymore. Check it out on Google image search: https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKNPkizRuzhGlMoKSDg-x0b4OTq9PUDe-3MxWenY75FX7l90IXSoq_qKYn6REzmLUe1BRuofKpubTxzU8bFhSksJBoPmEo9XU1IjlGy8XNafHlY5W0B_YlSAX9hIeASE4hT9wD8gQWgs-K/s1600/Puma-1.jpg

Coca, which many people know is a plant I very much love and adore, is apparently not the highland plant I thought it was! I learned that grows best between 600 and 2500 meters in elevation, and is more prevalent in the humid areas of the mid-Andes. Contrary to popular thought, it goes not grow around Cusco and the Sacred Valley. Boo. I was really hoping to see one in person! I also learned that it takes 300 kg of coca leaf to make 1 kg of cocaine. The coca museum really was an amazing resource. Check it out online : http://www.museodelacoca.com/index-en.html

And lastly.... Machu Picchu is a name invented by Hiram Bingham, the man whom 'discovered' the archaeological site and made it famous. No one knows what the real Inka name for it was. Machu Picchu literally just means 'old mountain' in Quechua. The site is still pretty cool though, and I'm considering going again. Though it's awfully expensive!

The last few days involved lots of socializing, museums, markets, househunting, and a lot of walking. First, my roommate at the hostal and I took in the Inka Museum, which showcases art, artifacts, and accounts of the myriad pre-Inka civilizations which flourished through Peru, with a heavy focus on the Inka. This National Geographic article is a good read: http://ngm.nationalgeographic.com/2011/04/inca-empire/pringle-text . The museum had an impressive display of artifacts, featured a collection of European style oil paintings of Inka rulers, and had a small shop which sold traditional Andean textiles (and still incredibly expensive). A great experience.  I later met up with a friend whom I had met in Lima for a wander in town and some adventures. We took in the aforementioned coca museum, wandered up to the gigantic white statue of Jesus (whom is inaccessibly surrounded by fences and barb wire), then hit up dinner in the square. The next day had me take in the impressive Convent of Santo Domingo, a 16th century Dominican convent built upon, and using materials from, the Inka ceremonial center of Qorikancha. Qorikancha, the temple of the sun in Cusco, was the most important temple in the Inka Empire, and was described by the Spanish as 'fabulous beyond belief': the walls were completely covered in gold, as was the entire ceremonial area. The temple was completely looted and destroyed the Spanish, and the remaining walls were incorporated into the Convent. A few of the original Inka walls survive, with almost no sign of damage from the earthquakes which shook the area over the last 500 years. You can read more about it here : https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Qurikancha

I really enjoyed Qorikancha, though honestly my favorite part was the exhibit on colonial religious art. Starting with paintings of Santo Domingo, the exhibit primarily featured work from the 'Cusco school', a particular style of Catholic art from the 16th to 18th centuries. I'll let wikipedia fill you in (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cuzco_School), but suffice it to say that through the style, focus, color, and exquisite nature of the work (they used an incredible amount of gold leaf), the Cusco school style conveys Catholic teachings almost without a word. The beauty of the art, the dedication to it, is extremely inspiring, and captures the love these artists felt for the subject. Well worth the s./10 entrance fee.

I'm now in Pisaq, making ghee and chilling out after a home cooked dinner. After the museum yesterday, my friend and I came into Pisaq to see the sites, and to help me look for a house to rent. I came across a home potentially for rent, which happened to be the very house I had dreamed about staying in 5 years ago, right on the road leading out of Pisaq, towered over by stunning mountains and Inka ruins. It's a 20 min walk from town, and here I sit, writing and quietly enjoying music. It's not a super cheap rental (about $100 CDN a week) but I'm happy. From here, I can explore the sacred valley with ease, enjoy the ruins, hike the terraces (on my to do list for tomorrow), and go into Cusco if I need to (which will happen, particularly when I go to the dentist!)

If you haven't already, check out the photos in my Dropbox folder. I'll be adding new photos asap of Cusco and Pisaq. https://www.dropbox.com/sh/3r8lkbc5cesepys/AADO5K4kBx5PRChZEwis0fHba?dl=0

Thanks for travelling along with me. Much love to all of you, wherever you are. Drop me a line via email or Facebook if you want to chat, or leave a comment below.

Paz y luz,

Chris

Ecuador: Part Two; and some Final Thoughts from Afar

I just discovered this unpublished  log entry I had been preparing at the end of my last trip to South America. Though unfinished, it gives a bit of closure to what had been an amazing 5 months, and a few final thoughts about the experience.  Plus,  well, Banos and Quito were pretty cool places. Enjoy this little time warp to 2011....

-------------------------

Almost 6000 miles, 48-hours, 3 cities, 2 time zones, 1 good sleep, a language barrier, a continent, and a crazy night of partying later, I find myself alone in an apartment in San Francisco, California. A kind guy from CouchSurfing.org has left me in his apartment for the evening, and over Gaudi and the smell of rice cooking with seaweed, I'm finding my thoughts drawn back to the last few weeks, and my final experiences in South America. Everywhere I go in this city, be it the mostly African districts, the parks frequented by dogs and their pets, North Beach (filled with strip clubs and beat poetry spaces), or the ol' Haight-Ashbury, I notice Spanish speakers, signs in Spanish, Mexican and Latino restaurants. In fact, I realize that the only reason I ate at a cheap burrito restaurant today was the hope of speaking some Spanish to someone.

Reverse culture shock hits the unsuspecting gnome. Blown away, I am, at how clean, orderly, and sterile things seem here; the easy availability of luxurious consumer goods (english books, seaweed, miso, herbal teas, and good toothpaste!!!); the apparent lack of hardware stores, copy shops, internet cafes, little tiendas, and hole-in-the-wall restaurants (all of which are a dime-a-dozen in Peru and Ecuador); the conspicuous absence of reggaeton; and just how damn expensive everything is here. In my initial search before finding the burrito place, I scoured the Haight for cheap food. The cheapest reasonable thing was a $2.50 taco... a far cry from a filling $2 set lunch!

Far be it for me to compare and contrast America-norte with America-sur, though. They're just different. And between those differences, one can find a wealth of experience, both instructive and contemplative. Although not even I know exactly how this trip has affected me and my path, I hope that through sharing some of these final thoughts and experiences that you all can understand just a wee bit better the trajectory I've set upon...

So, where was I.....?

Ah yes, I was on a bus, leaving the paradise of Puerto Lopez, my one-and-only opportunity to *really* soak in the coastal sun and surf. And that very evening, over thick black bread (a real treat!) and Gatorade, Lydia and I took in the sights and sounds of... the Guayaquil bus depot (some opinions hold that it's actually the nicest part of the city). Half American-style super-mall, half bus parkade, the Guayaquil terminal terrestre is three stories of confusion, noise, people, sunglass stalls, ticket agents yelling destinations at you, a huge grocery store, and surprisingly well-kept bathrooms. And I managed to find a $0.50 headphone jack splitter! Seeing how our bus back south to Loja wasn't leaving for.... 9 hours.... we had time to kill.

Luckily we weren't the ones on the receiving end of the killing. For once the bus left (an ordeal, involving a ticket agent trying to convince us to take the later bus...), we found ourselves praying or our lives, as our driver swerved and sped into the darkness of night. Now, I don't want to scare you folks.... but I think that might actually be the last time I take a night bus. At least in the mountains. Because at one point, I was sure the bus had actually lept off the side of the cliff, and that we were in free-fall. Reaching over to Lydia, her arm grabbing mine in mild terror, I found we had shared similar concerns...

I don't think I have ever been so happy for dawn to come.

In said morning, our final leg of (saner) bussing brought us back to the beautiful, tranquil valley of Vilcabamba, where I had planned to spend some of my last weeks. Intrigued by my previous description of 'the best place ever!', Lydia joined me, just days short of her impending trip back to Lima, then ultimately Berlin. Two days later, after much reminiscing, photo and memory sharing, jamming, and our usual fun, we parted ways in the Loja bus station. Not the most lovely place to part ways, but, well, fitting...

I stayed in Vilcabamba for another 10 days. It just felt like home, and I really had some difficulty pulling myself away. Not only is the valley so... relaxing... but I had made some friends, and was feeling the community vibe. Plus, having a kitchen was pretty cool!

Remember how I mentioned that Vilcabamba had about 300 gringos living there, and that there was a chocolate cafe? Well, those two concepts converge with Pineapplehead, a dread-headed brotherman from Cali, and his Ecuadorian wife, Ximena. A tattoo speaking the praises of barefeet graces her foot, while thick black dreads frame her smile, too big for words. Pineapple often sports a patch on his shirt of, well, a pineapple, and gazes out at the world from behind probably the most hilarious pair of glasses ever (frames only...). The day I wandered back into the shop, Ximena had several people sitting on the floor, and was passing out cups of hot mate de coca. And the next thing I know, I'm talking with another Chris, and we realize that we met last winter, at a Vipassana retreat. Trippy..... Casa de Chocolate works it's magic. As Pineapple often related, the space wasn't so much about making money, but rather just to have another gathering space for likeminded folks to share. That night (a Tuesday), someone asked if we were having the Tuesday-night Rainbow Gathering. Laughter ensued :)

I won't go into much detail about the next 10 days (as most involved slight modifications of the same activities...). However - I made sauerkraut. And it was AWESOME! I can't believe how much I miss that stuff while I'm gone. As well (in no particular order), I ate a lot of pan integral with papaya-maracuya jam; hiked up to an amazing lookout near the reserve I was living at; walked through a huge mud-pit, and subsequently had my hiking boots stolen while I was leaving them out to dry; hiked up cerro Mandango (the towering local hill) in flip-flops; went to a Cuban music show which ended up being non-Cuban, but involved drinking a lot of rum with three crazy French girls; made some more local (gringo) friends; went to a dinner party hosted by a really neat woman; thought I had parasites but realized that without the other symptoms I was probably being hypochondriacal; watched the world go by while sipping good coffee; read a bit; confronted some major psychological and existential questions, then got over it; finally reconnected with my happiness; ate a LOT of other good food; and generally had fun.

(Speaking of fun... I almost got abducted by my host, Jesus, and his - extremely attractive - friends to go party somewhere. Would have been fun, except that the cover is $20 of my non-existent funds, and they want to go out until 4 or 5 am. I'm getting picked up here at the ungodly hour of 4:30 am to get to Arcata. Ah well, next time...)

Probably the most memorable, and arguably most annoying/relieving, aspect of Vilcabamba was my experience with the hospital. Much to my surprise, Ecuador has free healthcare. Gringos included. I asked some locals about it, and they said that, especially in rural areas, the healthcare is free, and actually pretty good quality. Although there are more expensive private clinics, the free healthcare is generally fast, thorough, and efficient. Recall that I was swimming in Puerto Lopez? Well, one day I awoke to find I couldn't hear a thing from my left ear. If you've ever had a wax blockage, you know how annoying it is. A few days later, the doctor tells me that he can help, and prescribes ear drops, telling me to come back in 4 days for irrigation. I ask him the price, and he says 'nothing'. Stupified, I go to the pharmacy, and walk out a dollar lighter and a bottle heavier. 4 days pass, and I return for the irrigation. You know it's a good day when the doctor cries 'madre de dios!' (mother of god!) upon seeing a wax ball drop into the pan. 15 minutes later, I walked out with perfect hearing and a smile on my face, free of charge! 

Another example of this was in Banos, where I was concerned that I might have *gasp* malaria! I had been experiencing mild body fevers, as well as general malaise. In all honesty, I blame some of the symptoms on exhaustion - I had spent my last night in town (before a 13-hour bus ride) staying up all night drinking with a friend, and hadn't slept well the previous night. Next thing I know, I'm getting dosed with antibiotics, from a nurse who is convinced I have a throat/lung infection. Blood tests 2 days later confirmed I had bacterial infections in my stomach and throat, and needed more antibiotics. I basically spent my entire time in Banos sleeping, eating well, monitoring my well-being, and bathing in the hot thermal baths. But I got better, and it was free!

Banos *is* a pretty cool place, despite the fact that I didn't do anything while I was there except sleep. I made efforts to do things, yes, but always seemed to be foiled. The city is renound for it's outdoor opportunities, including ample hiking, mountain biking, canyoning, rafting, paragliding, dune-buggy rentals, volcano tours. In fact, the volcano erupted about 10 days before I arrived, and the whole city had been covered in ash. People were still walking around with particle masks, and there continued to be layers of thin black ash inside our bathroom in the hostal, somehow filtering in... Try as he might, one of my roommates, night after night, went up to the volcano crater to see what he could see. Which was basically just clouds. Upstairs, there was an amazing rooftop patio, with a cafe for breakfasts, serving real, strong coffee. Plus, they baked their own bread... mmmmmmm.....

The morning finally came when one just has to make a move. And it seemed a perfect day, since the three of us who had been sharing the dorm room all decided to leave for Quito. William and I had our eyes set on Otavalo, where every Saturday the biggest market in South America explodes. Perhaps it's an exaggeration, but they say there are a staggering 3500 stalls! Now that's shop-till-you-drop. However.... I didn't make it. On the way into Quito, daunted by the size of the city, and the cost of taxis, I decided to stay in the city. You know me and cities....

Despite it's unbelievable size (from viewpoints in town, you can't see the end of the city. It's as if the city just spreads to the horizon, forever...). 

A long overdue hello from Chile!

Well, it's been a month since I boarded that ferry leaving Vancouver, and I'm sure many of you are wondering, 'Hey, what happened to Chris' blog? You know, the one which he usually writes in when he's away in Latin America. His stories are so quirky and strange, and I kind of miss them!' It's true (though perhaps minus the self-indulgence): for the last few weeks, I've been meaning to spend some time online to post my ramblings, photos, and general musings. But the truth is, I've been having so much fun and doing so many neat things that I haven't really found the time! That said, I'm currently in a house without power, and with the last five percent charge on my tablet, I've decide to at least get started in writing a new blog post.

So yes! Hola from Laguna Verde, Chile, where I've spent a good portion of the last two weeks since leaving the profoundly beautiful (and profoundly sweaty) jungles of northern Peru. I'm currently on a second stay at a friend's land, lending my help with labour (though there hasn't been too much of that yet), providing ideas for design of house and landscape, getting acquainted with the land, and generally chilling out. It is absolutely beautiful here, and only 45 minutes outside the artsy and bohemian city of Valparaiso (which I'll describe a bit more below). Since getting here, we've seen the raw land completely transformed: a local crew has built a new access road, cleared a huge amount of one of the hectares, and prepared the flat area for the house. The space is so much more open now, and as we marked the lines for building the new fence in the next few days, I got a true sense of how things may develop over the coming years. This place is going to be amazing, and in intending to be more involved here, I've decided to use this as my final project for my Permaculture Design Certificate. Yes, it may take quite a while, but thankfully the course has no set completion date, and I feel I've now found a design project I'm excited and inspired to take part in. My next step will be to research terracing while in the sacred valley outside Cusco, Peru during January, and learning more about how to apply it to the site here at Laguna Verde. In the end, I hope to compile all the maps, site details, photos, and general information about the project into a well-organized and beautifully designed printed-on-demand book.

Rewinding a few weeks: I know that many of you are aware of the meditation retreat I went on in the jungle. After giving it some thought, I've decided to keep that experience mostly to myself, and not share it openly online. However, if you see me in person, do feel free to ask me about it. It was indeed a powerful and nourishing experience, and I'm happy to share elements of it with my close friends. I will, however, encourage you to check out the website of the retreat center, Baris Betsa (http://baris-betsa.com/) and if you're already a friend of the center, please check out and 'like' the new 'Friends of Baris Betsa' Facebook page (https://facebook.com/barisbetsafriends/) There you'll find lots of information and great photos from the recent retreats. If you're interested in going to the center and want more info, ask me about it in person.

With the retreat completed, a tired Christopher joined his friends M and B for a flight back to Lima, and then on to Santiago, Chile. We arrived exhausted around midnight, gathered a rental car, then arrived at M's mother's place in the city center. And at 2 am, she woke up, greeted us, and set to making a pot of fresh chicken soup. I have since learned that this is part of real Chilean hospitality - offering what you have with no hesitation, welcoming family and friends whenever you can, and spending lots of time eating and drinking to celebrate the joy of being together. Everywhere I've been there's an abundance of food, laughter, and comradery, moreso than I usually see back home. There's a simple joy of daily living which I find so touching and nourishing, and I really seek to embody this more in my life in Canada. We stayed at the house for a few days, getting ourselves together and organized for camping at Laguna Verde. The plan was to camp for almost three weeks, with a break between for Christmas in Santiago.

Hospitality notwithstanding, it was honestly a greater joy to finally leave Santiago. I find the city a bit depressing: loud, somewhat unfriendly, and lacking in much green space. On the other hand, it's the cleanest of all major capital cities I've been to, but suffers from the crowdedness and non-human-scale quality of life in which I find it hard to thrive. We did, however, visit a few of M's old friends and his sister's family, as well as went to see Star Wars on Imax (great experience, but ultimately a disappointing movie, but that's another story).  Our next destination - Valparaiso, and then on to Laguna Verde.

We drove to the coast early the next morning, the sun at our backs as we headed west through Chile's wine country, mountains to the east like a spine along the whole country. I realize how incredibly beautiful and diverse this country is: from the tropical regions and deserts of the north, to the more temperate central regions and finally the glacial spans of the south and Patagonia, Chile spans a huge range of terrain, landscapes and climates for which it deserves recognition as a truly multi-continental country. It's also a country wealthy in resources and raw materials, with a relatively strong economy (possibly the strongest and most resilient South America) and quite a high quality of life. However, much of this has been overshadowed by a violent history, particularly the brutal military dictatorship of the Pinochet era (1973 to 1997), which you can read about on your own through wikipedia. To say the least, this has left an indelible mark on Chilean society and is a source of much contention to this day.

After Christmas, which was spent with M's family back in Santiago, I said a temporary adios to my friends and spent four days solo in Valparaiso. The photos and wikipedia articles can't quite do justice to this amazing city. Dating back to as early as 1536, and with a rich cultural heritage, Valparaiso was a small village until Chile claimed independence from Spain in the early 19th century. It then became arguably the most important port along the Pacific coast of South America, and a key station for the Chilean navy and for international trade. It was also an important stop for ships heading to the pacific coast of the Americas for at least 100 years, especially during the California gold rush when Chilean wheat was a staple import for American miners. Valpo (as its often called) featured many Latin Amercan firsts: the first, and lonest running, Latin American newspaper; the first fire department on the continent; the first Protestant church (and Protestant church with a cross); and the first bank. It was in all manners a thriving city. However, the end of the gold rush, a devastating earthquake in 1906, as well as the opening of the Panama Canal in 1914, brought Valparaiso's golden age to an end. Decades later, the city is reviving itself as a cultural and artistic center.

The city itself consists of a flat area with a grid-like structure (so creatively named 'El plan', and mostly dedicated to commercial use), surrounded by 45 'cerros', or steep round hills, upon which the majority of the city is built. The cerros vary in height, and gradually rise up the side of a steep mountain to it's crest. Each cerro is like a community of it's own, with unique art, character, history and charm. There is an organic chaos which lends a sense of structure to the city: roads through the city and between the cerros are narrow, steep, and winding (like San Francisco times a thousand), while mazes of footpaths, alleyways and amazingly steep stairs connect the various cerros together. Though wandering without a map, I almost couldn't get lost if I tried. Much of the city is also protected as a UNESCO World Heritage site since 2003, which protects most of the historic districts from any and all re-development. While this is wonderful in most ways, the down side is that in a region prone to earthquakes and fires, buildings which are only partially destroyed cannot be altered from their original design. This means that there are buildings standing in ruins, with their owners waiting for their complete destruction until they can be redeveloped.

One of the most unique features in Valparaiso are the 'ascensors', a series of 15 elevator-like lifts which scale the sides of the cerros and permit easy access to the city. Built between the 1880s and 1915, the ascensors are a staple in Valpo's tourist image, and make much of the city far more accessible by foot than by car. Equally impressive are the stunning murals and massive scale street art through the entire city. The first murals were commissioned by Pablo Neruda, the famous poet and writer, whom brought well-known Latin American artists such as Diego Rivera to the city. The scale of art grew from there, and after a period of repression during the Pinochet era, Valparaiso is experiencing a renaissance in public art. I'd encourage you to Google 'Valparaiso murals' and have a look for yourself.

In a short list, I spent my time in Valpo enjoying a plethora of micro-brewed and local beers (the best I've found in Latin America) and indulging in amazing food, wandering through the various city sights, enjoying a few of the popular haunts for late night drinking (including the famous bar, Cinzano, which has been serving in since 1896), making new friends (and playing Cards Against Humanity with them), laboring to print maps for the Laguna Verde project (which I succeeded in against many odds!), and basically enjoying what the locals refer to as the 'Porteño lifestyle'. This was described to me as an artistic and bohemian way of living in the moment: a carefree attitude about tomorrow; lots of music, art and comradery; plenty of good local food and drink; a pride in non-conformity and individual style; a love of thrift store fashion; and a fierce protection of the unique quality of life that makes Valpo so endearing. It's somewhat hipster in Valpo, but without being the elitist and shallow dead-end of western culture that hipsterism seems to embody in North America (Yes, I know I'm somewhat judgemental on that last point, and I'll own it.)

However much people seem to romanticize the 'Porteño lifestyle', Valpo has it's down sides, many of which are hard to see by the tourists whom generally stay close to the more artsy and affluent areas of town, such as Cerro Alegre and Cerro Conceptión. Poverty is more entrenched and severe here than the national average, raging fires are a constant threat due to dry conditions and poor city electrical utility structures, especially in the poorer areas towards the edges of town (check out my photo of the insane telephone poles!), and there is a significant issue with drugs, crime and alcoholism. The gap between rich and poor is staggering here, as it is in most Latin American countries. The city is also absolutely filthy in many areas, with garbage dumped openly on the streets and upper cerros, though that's also not uncommon down in these parts. I've included links to two rather interesting articles which highlight some of these issues.

 http://www.buenosairesherald.com/article/157235/valpara%C3%ADso-blaze-reveals-city%E2%80%99s-unseen-poverty

 http://matadornetwork.com/abroad/the-valparaiso-no-one-writes-about/

All that aside, I will definitely return to Valparaiso (in what capacity I don't know). The city captured my heart in a way few other places have, winning me over with its charm, artsy nature, good food and drink, interesting and friendly people, and general warmth. Plus, well, whom can resist taking gondolas up cliffs to get to your home? On a trip back into town from Laguna Verde, I felt a tinge of nostalgia for my time in Valpo, and really wish I could have spent more time there. I'm looking forward to making that happen in the future. Perhaps this time next year? ;)

Tomorrow (actually today, as I'm continuing to write this!), we leave our little home in Laguna Verde for the city of Curacavi. The owners of the Laguna Verde house plan to stay there over new years, and after a few phone calls, M found us an even nicer place to stay, with power, Internet, a full kitchen, and a swimming pool! (I'm continuing to write from this new home, and trust me, it's awesome! More to come on that in the next entry!) We'll be doing new years there (here) the M's sister, brother in law and nephew, and avoiding the crazy party which is Valparaiso. One day I'd like to do new years there, as it features the largest fireworks display in all South America. They say over 100,000 people come from all over Chile and absolutely overwhelm Valpo for a full day of debaucherous and drunken celebration in the streets. Tempting....

Anyways, if you're interested, follow this link to check out my Dropbox folder of photos from my trip. I'll add descriptions to the photos when I have a better Internet connection. So far, I've added photos from Lima, the retreat in Iquitos, and Laguna Verde and Valparaiso in Chile. More will be added as the trip goes on! Enjoy!
https://www.dropbox.com/sh/3r8lkbc5cesepys/AADO5K4kBx5PRChZEwis0fHba?dl=0

Until the next blog post, I wish you all a happy new year, and send much love and well wishes from a little gnome in Chile! <3

Chris / Nagdeo / Gnome

Ecuador: Land of incredible Diversity - Part 1

(Divided into two parts.... as I'm covering almost a month here!)

Sitting in the warm, sulfury public baths of Baños a few days ago, laughing, joking, and chatting with some locals, an old man from the mountains outside town reminded me of something profoundly remarkable about Ecuador; what I consider to be this country's greatest gift. Discussing the myriad of sights, sounds and smells, he told me that in one day.... wait, more like a half-day... one could drive from the very coast of Ecuador, amid blue-footed boobies, brightly-painted fishing boats and coastal cool, up into the heights of the Andes, flush with Inka descendants, woman and men wearing what some call 'traditional' clothing, and cuy (guinea pig), through to the Amazon basin, the lungs of the earth. Ecuador represents the most naturally, culturally and economically diverse place I've ever seen. And in my time here, I've seen a wide spectrum of this diversity, but by no means a thorough or exhaustive one. All the same, this country has captured my heart and imagination, and I found myself making plans to return, maybe next time for quite a while. Let me tell you about it.

First, the basics about Ecuador. Yes it's on the Ecuator (in fact, I'll be going to el mitdad del mundo tomorrow!). No, toilets and sinks do not flush in reverse. And yes... you actually do weigh less at the Ecuator. But not by much.

Ecuador is one of the smaller nations of South America. Despite this, it has the heighest population density and greatest biological diversity on the continent. If one includes the Galapagos Islands, Ecuador deserves the title of 'biodiversity hotspot'. Over 1600 bird species, 6000 species of butterfly, 106 species of reptile, 138 species of amphibian, and over 16,000 plant species. One park in the south claims to hold over 4,000 species of Orchid, many of which remain unknown to science. For geography, the three continental ecosystems (coast, mountains, and jungle) provide for endless adventure, especially in the Ecuadorian Amazon. Cotopaxi, one of the world's highest active volcanoes, puffs away just south of Quito, while the peak of Mount Chimborazo (6300 m) is actually the highest place from the center of the earth, due to the ecuatorial buldge. Many more active volcanoes string up the Ecuadorian Andes, including Tungurahua, near Baños, which errupted about ten days before I got there, coating the city in ash. The climate is really varied: it's actually kinda cold at night in Quito right now, while I could have easily been out all night in shorts and a t-shirt on the coast. That said, one could probably spend a lifetime exploring this country, and find amazing gems at every turn.

Ahhhh, Vilcabamba. One such gem. A town in the south, about 2 hours from the Peruvian border, Vilcabamba is often called the 'valley of longevity', due to the local stories of people attaining incredible age, while maintaining vitality. It's said that people regularly live past 120, with the oldest supposedly-documented person reaching 127. Noone knows exactly what causes this - some say something in the water and the air, others say it's the natural beauty and slow pace of life. The area was also a vacation spot for the Inka nobility, so there might be some shred of truth to the stories. A crystal-clear river runs next to town, beautiful mountains all around provide ample opportunities for hiking, horse-back riding, and cycling, while cerro Mandango keeps watch over the town, with it's unique geological formation.
Whatever it is, the valley is attracting throngs of foreigners: out of a population of 5,000 locals, over 300 gringos have moved to Vilcabamba in the last 10 years. Speaking with Lee, the owner of an amazing bookshop/italian restaurant, and a very talented potter, the valley has changed a lot even in the last three years. Numerous guesthouses and eco-lodges have sprung up, and the town now has a raw food / juice bar, an Indian restaurant, a chocolate and coconut cafe, LOTS of organic food, and a lively community of locals and ex-pat's. May 1st - 15th is the second annual raw food festival, and almost 200 more people were expected to jam pack the hostals and attend an amazing selection of workshops, demos, and general food related things.Sometimes, I could have sworn I was in small-town California... until I heard the ubiquitos reggaeton.
After about 20 minutes in Vilcabamba, the only way I could leave was to tell myself: 'I am SO coming back here!' Because a few days later was the birthday of my friend and long-time travel companion Lydia, who had expressed the desire to have her birthday in Cuenca, third largest city in Ecuador, and one I was actually kinda excited to see.
Now, I'm sure most of you know I'm not a fan of cities. They're big. They smell. They're loud. And generally I get kinda bored in them. Cuenca, however, was something different. Arriving in the evening, I was immediately blown away by the scale of architecture and incredible aesthetics found in the historic center. I could tell there was something there. Originally settled by the Cañari civilization, the conquering Inkas absorbed the city into their expanding empire, renaming it Tomebamba, and building it into a regional capital, with granduer to rival Cusco, the imperial capital. However, by the time the Spanish arrived in the 1550's, Tomebamba was abandoned and destroyed by it's inhabitants, possibly to prevent anything of value from falling into Spanish hands. Due to this history, the city is thought to be a candidate for the mythical golden city of el dorado, so sought after by the conquistadors. The Spanish founded modern Cuenca in 1557, after which time it became an important regional center.

And walking down it's thin, cobble-stone streets, towered over by impressive colonial archetecture, the basilica which defies all sense of perspective, and towering trees in the parque Calderon, it's not hard to see why the city was made a UNESCO world hertitage site in 1999. In the park, locals sat and chatted amid a somewhat odd, yet artistic, photo exhibition of medicine and illness, towered over by the cathedral. Flags lined calle Simon Bolivar, while other parks fetaured busts and sculptures memorializing the chosen heroes of Cuencan and Ecuadorian history. Rivers ran through the city, providing many places to hang out and enjoy the view, while at night, the area around our hostal morphed into a maze of youth flocking to local bars and clubs, amid street vendors and musicians, which made for some interesting people watching. The same night, a band from Guayaquil was playing at the hostal, which was an interesting look into urban youth culture, something I almost never see while travelling.

A few days later, sunglasses and bathing suits in tote, we finally hit the coast. Puerto Lopez really lived up to the hype - a chill, not-really-touristy fishing village on the coast, where one can just chill on the beach, swim, eat really good seafood (ceviche, anyone?), and chill at night-time beachbars pumping reggae. And like most cool places I go, I was there a while. Over a week. During that time, I was on the beach all day, almost everyday. We ate at the local 'whale cafe' most mornings, where the seagulls have the notorious habot ofr strafing the patio, and just about shit on my toast one morning. The town is just north of the major party town of Montañita, and just south of the Machalilla National Park, in which one can enjoy white sand beaches and awesome surf (best left-break on the coast). Also available are tours to Isla de la Plata, which features some of the same wildlife and bio-diversity of the Galapagos Islands, as well as numerous snorkle and boat trips. We booked a snorkle trip mid-week.... and I saw blue-footed boobies! You wouldn't think it would be that exciting to see a bird with blue feet... but they're *really* blue! Like, unnaturally so. There's also a rock that looks like a turtle sunning itself, as well as another reminiscent of a gorilla head (Roca King Kong). At first you don't really see it... until the thick brow jumps out at you.

Given that this was my only experience on the coast on south america, I'm not really able to say much. However, from what I saw from my bus window, from other people's photos, and from hear-say, I'm pretty sure that the beaches of Ecuador are some of the best on the pacific side. A week just wasn't long enough. But it'll have to do. And I think I got some of the tan I was looking for :)

So... here in Quito, three weeks later, it's getting dark, and I'm running up a big internet bill. So, I'm going to finish this tomorrow. Or at least before I leave. My flight is 6:30 AM, this coming Wednesday. Ohhhhhh boy.....

Love y'all, and thanks for being,

Chris / Nagdeo / Gnome

Ciao, Peru!

Leaving Peru seemed like a far-off dream... until I was sitting on the bus, and found myself staring fully into bold letters: ECUADOR. And then it hit me... a new country, and all that would entail. New money. New phrases. A new accent. New beers (which I don't anticipate can top Peruvian beers...). But as our bus wound through the Ecuadorian mountains, each of us stamped and affirmed by customs, the sun tucked itself behind the fog of the hills, and before me was strung one of the most amazing sunsets yet, golden rays diffusing through gentle fog, lazily washing over a serene valley. Huge trees lined the road, while a noticable darth of political ads gave a welcome respite from the overwhelming election atmosphere of Peru. I can honestly say that from the moment I entered Ecuador, this country captivated me with it's natural beauty. We'll see if this point I've awarded sticks :)

My last week in Peru was a journey of several hundred kilometers, with a lot of bussing, some ruins, waterfalls, sunsets, colonial towns, huge cities, my return to the coast, and a lot of mountains. From leaving Lagunas after our jungle trip, an uncomfortable, overly caffinated overnight boat ride brought us to Yurimaguas; the next day's trip brought us to Tarapoto, the place where the mountains meet the jungle. My heart skipped a beat as I witnessed the first foothills of the Andes, jungle plants slowly gaving way to the familiar sierra varieites. And in there, the first conniferous trees I've seen (oh, I miss them so much!).

Tarapoto struck me as a really beautiful place, and if I had been in the right mindset and financial state, I probably sound have spent a lot more time there. Surrounded by waterfalls and outdoor activities, there seems to be an overwhelming amount of stuff to do, from kayaking and rock climbing, to waterfalls and hiking. After an unsuccessful attempt to find a local natural food store (where I was told I could find seaweed... YUM!), our luck connected us to a local motocarro driver, who we hired to take us to some waterfalls. Bathing suits packed, we took to the sunscorched highway in a LOUD taxi, the noise of which paled in comparison to the awe I experienced looking out on the mountains, their verdant green radiating in the afternoon sun. A short hike later, amidst signs urging us to protect nature and not leave garbage, across roofed bridges and up stony walkways, we came to the falls. The water was cold, the falls loud, but the experience was incredibly cleansing, in many ways. It was one of those falls that you could go behind, and experience what it might be like for a yogi living in a cave, looking out on the world.

The next day, our 8 am bus brought us by afternoon back into the mountains, along windy, nausea-inducing hairpin turns, to the little colonial town of Chachapoyas. A sharp difference from the slightly manic, thoroughly modern towns I'd seen before, Chachas seemed to crawl along at times, while in the evening, the town bustled amidst pizza joints, small bars serving local liquor, the market (which stayed open late, great for cheap dinners), and restaurants on the square. Our hospedaje had a small courtyard (which was worth paying the extra money for!), with cats who visited us, along with a local man quite fanatic about romantic poetry. That evening, out of the blue, I ran into two good friends from BC, April and Mickey, who had been on a six-month journey all over south america. Over mate and dinner, we traded stories, and shared all the rediculous and amazing experiences on the road, while reminiscing about friends from home. Honestly, I'd been feeling kinda homesick, so a good dose of BC / coastal love was exactly my medicine. I don't know if you two are reading this, but thank you, April and Mickey!

While in Chachas, I spent two long days travelling to ruins (among my favorite things to do while travelling). The first is Kuelap, a huge fortress built by the pre-Inca Chachapoyan culture, notable for their unique round buildings (many replicas of which are built today). The trip involved a 3 1/2 hour drive along high mountain roads, to an altitude of 3100 meters, small towns dotting the way, while farmer´s fields clung to the sides of mountains like patch-work quilts thrown off the side of a bed. From the entrance, we hiked another 20 minutes, constantly saying hellow to the many orchid species present (I was told over 43 species live in the area!).

Kuelap is huge. Over 600 m long, and about 100 m wide, it's one of the largest sites in South America, and widely considered the second most impressive set of ruins, after, of course, Machu Picchu. The structures have the distinctive round shape, as do the fortress walls (this is believed to be protection from sismic damage). It's unknown exactly what the site was for: it may have been a fortress/defensive structure, or perhaps a central government structure, from which the locals brought grain and tribute n exchange for protection. Or, due to the large number of bodies found in the walls and floors of the site, there may have been a funerary element to the site, as it's noted that the Chachapoyan culture was rather fond of elaborate funerary rites, often involving burial or a corpse for 2 years, before the body was exhumed, and the bones wrapped in linen and 'mummified'. Check out: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kuelap for more info.

This obsession with funerary rites is noted in several other sites throughout the region, with sites such as el pueblo de los muertes (the village of the dead), the lagoon of corpses, and, one I visited, Karajia, where anthropomorphic stone sarcophagus' stand high along a cliff face. Another daytrip, I went to see these sarcophagi for myself - and found so much more. The trip was, again, about 3 hours, along bumpy dirt roads, up high mountain roads, to the tiny village of Cruzpata, where I paid about $1 and started my walk. Passing local fields filled with golden maize, flowers of all descriptions, and many types of vegetables, I came upon a mirador, from where the path went along a cliff face (don't worry, there was a railing!). Up above, watching the whole valley, stood six human-sized stone statues. Skulls sat upon two of their heads, while painted images of animals, or some sort of line, swooped across each. Nearby, a small waterfall spilt water from above, to a lagoon below. Passing underneath, I was presented with a huge assortment of human bones, presumably found in the region, and neatly stacked on rocks. Among them: many femur and tibia, skull fragments, foot bones, fingers, jaws, and a small mummified hand, skin still preserved. Many of the bones came from juveniles, as evidenced by the cartilaginous areas of unfused bone. No one could tell me much about the site itself... but there was enough there to tell me that it is indeed special, and a place I'm happy to have visited.

I left Chachapoyas on another long bus, this time overnight, arriving in the coastal city of Chiclayo, from where I left for Piura, then finally, Ecuador. Neither of those cities were particularly interesting, save from the glimpses of extreme wealth and poverty side-by-side. My bus trip to Piura, however, gave me my first glimpses of the coast in over 2 months, bathed in the light of sunset, which fit remarkably well with the music I had on: 'Sol', by Solar Fields.

My final thoughts on Peru:
This land is one of the most incredibly special places I've been. I know I've said this a bunch of times, but it's the truth. I can't believe how at-home I feel. Peruvians are a friendly, generous, and seemingly happy people, who, I can see, are able to overcome the indignities and difficulties of the past (corrupt politics, war, the Shining Path insurgency, poverty), and shine. Two examples of kindness stand out among the others: one, in a bus terminal, a local woman looked at me with a kindly smile, and reached over, passing me a huge bundle of grapes, barely saying a word (althougnh her smile said volumes). Second, and most profoundly, was in Piura, where, literally, I was down to my last handfull of soles (Peruvian money), since my US cash had molded in the jungle, and the bank wouldn't take them. I walked into this veggie restaurant, and as I looked at the menu (which I couldn't afford at the time), a man and two little girls at a table shared a whisper, and then called me over. As one of the girls really didn't like the bowl of sweet fruit and yogurt she had, the three asked if I wanted it. The sense of gratitude was overwleming, the sheer kindness of these three clear. I thanked them, and went for it. I felt in that moment perhaps what a monk might experience, seeking alms, and living with deep humility off the generosity of others. I certainly don't live the life of a monk, but that experience really hit home, and reminded me so clearly of all the generosity and kindness I seen here. A little later that night, while eating a 65-cent meal of soup from a street vendor, a girl there was listening to 'where's the love?' by the Black Eyed Peas. Such a perfect reminder in those words, almost like a little moment of verbal reinforcement of all the lessons learned.

New vistas, new experiences. Ecuador is already starting out welcoming, warm, and fun. Today, after I finish (and get some lunch!), I plan to catch a bus to Vilcabamba, for some quiet hangout in hammocks, in what Lonely Planet calls a 'gringo paradise'. That sounds nice for a few days :) Lydia, my friend from Germany and often-time travel companion, is in Lima right now, and will be coming to meet me in Cuenca in a few days, for another round of adventures.

Lots of love, my friends and family... until the next time!
Paz, luz, y amor,

Chris / Nagdeo / Gnome

25 things I like to do while travelling in Peru

(in no apparent order)

1) Investigate (and sometimes try) odd and magical plant medicines. Gracias for the healing!
2) Speak and learn a bit more Español, enough to have a pleasant conversation... and sometimes make a complete fool of myself.
3) Write postcards, my blog, and in my journal. (and please let me know when you get a postcard - they don't always make it!)
4) Cook and eat weird fruits, vegetables, and meat - often with surprising and/or disgusting results. I've learned that fruits that are dark red or purple on the outside, and yellow/orange on the inside, are likely terrible.
5) Chew absurd amounts of coca, and ponder the untrucacies of existence (often from a hammock, trail, bed, or canoe)
6) Drink (medicine), purge, repeat.
7) Meet new and interesting people, in the weirdest of places (hostal kitchen, public transit, Inca ruins, jungle)
8) Appreciate the subtle flows of the universe, and the amazing synchronicities of life.
9) Read - a lot! I've read 9 books so far :)
10) Share music and movies, and find new gems to DJ with.
11) Dream (by day or night)
12) Make plans, evaluate, modify... ad infinitum.
13) Let go, 'let flo', and strip myself down to the bare essentials, the deeper me. I am me, solo... and it feels SO good!
14) Wander in city markets, see bizzare things for sale, and eat a big meal for $1.40.
15) Do nothing. It's something. Especially if it's nothing.
16) Drink coffee and smoke mapachos, while watching the world go by.
17) Boats, boats, boats. Huge ones, small ones, thatch-roofed ones, motorized ones, canoes...
18) Explore the amazing, massive music collection my wonderful sister gave me before I left. THANK YOU!!
19) Observe bird, plant, and animal species, and appreciate the stunning diversity this planet hosts.
20) Take photos of plants, sunsets, and scenery.... but none of myself.
21) Do any of the above while in a hammock.
22) Do any of the above while drinking a cold beer (there's even dark beer in Peru!!)
23) Feel joy and satisfaction in my heart, and realize, bit by bit, who I really am, and what gifts I have to give.
24) Be rediculous (often including jokes that some people just don't understand...)
25) Chill out with los duendes (gnomes... Peru is FULL of them!)