Back in Bolivia!!

I made it back to Bolivia:-D Our itinerary is: Copacabana with Lake Titicaca; La Paz during their 200th anniversary of their freedom, lots of parades and road blocks; Cochabamba with my host family and lots of icecream; then to Uyuni and their beautiful salt flats. More to come...

Machu Picchu...Bike Hike

Machu Picchu was more incredible than I imagined it would be, and I was expecting great things. Maryanne and I went on a 4 day tour with a really great group made of of 2 New Zealanders, 1 Aussie (named Kas, Fro and Becca respectively and we kept traveling with them through Copacabana and La Paz), an Irish guy, 2 Brits and 2 Germans. You´ll have to wait for photos because like the worst sister ever, I left my sister´s camera in a taxi with all of our pics :-( Hopefully we will get some from our friends.

Peruvian 4th of July

I hope everyone had a great time yesterday celebrating Independence Day. Maryanne and I celebrated by going to the ruins at Chan Chan with our Irish friend, Ashling (that probably isn´t how you spell it). They were very impressive and I kindly acted as our tour guide. Unfortunately, most of my predictions were incorrect and as you can see by following the link, the city was not destroyed by gigantic ants. Other than that we enjoyed some Peruvian styled Mexican food and played some pool with Californians, and lost twice.

Bussing it...again :-/

So I officially hate traveling by bus. Unfortunately we have many more hours of bus rides ahead of us into going into Bolivia and Chile. Maryanne and I arrived in Trujillo, Peru today after a 26 hour bus ride on 3 different buses, all equally uncomfortable.

These pics show the inside of one of the buses: (There not great but better than nothing)

Read on for a reflection on what it is like being on a bus in South America.

Forgive my grammar, I wrote this on the bus

First you must enter a terminal, sometimes vast and organized, sometimes small and dirty, with men surrounding you calling out names of cities and persistently asking you where you are going, if they have not already grabbed hold of your bags. After going with one of the men or approaching a ticket counter you are ready to board. You climb the steps of the bus and are affronted with various smells: air freshener, pine sol, gasoline, the occasional urine or fresh peeled orange. The vehicle appears to be a second hand tour bus or even a nice plush long distance bus with TVs and a bathroom. With a lurch you start on you way and almost immediately a young man from 12-26 years old is standing at the front asking for your attention. He is there to sell candy that whitens your skin, homemade coconut cakes and sometimes beauty products; or he is an older man who is blind, in need of surgery (one even lifts his shirt to show you scars and a precariously taped on bandage, which you hope doesn´t fall off to reveal the wound or lack there of) or representing the deaf community. The give their speech, loudly and with lots of informality calling everyone friend, queen, or even cousin. After their affronting speech, too loud to be ignored, is over they walk up and down the aisles collecting money and handing out goods.

Then there is a peaceful quiet, broken by a few coughs or the cry of an infant...but only for a moment. Music that is look loud or a poorly made action film, chuck full of violent scenes, is put on and you are bombarded with theses grating sounds, unable to think or read, let alone sleep. Eventually either the volume is lowered or you grow accustomed to the sound so you can read for a but, until the bumping of the bus lulls you to sleep.

As the bus pulls to a bus stop, is stopping at a toll, or is refuelling, the lack of motion wakes you up in time to see a handful of men, women and children sprinting towards your bus. "Potato chips! Ice cream! Cold drinks! Sweets!" all sung out in Spanish from the throats of boys as young as 8 and women well into their 60s. In a whirlwind they are gone, but not before a small pool of guilt has been tapped inside of you to question your privilege that allows you to travel and obtain a steady job. So as you gaze out the window, staring at the beautiful green or snow-capped mountains, rushing rivers and bright sunsets; you can´t help but notice the mud huts with metal roofs, the crumbling brick developments or the makeshift shops crammed around the highway. You think about the economic conditions that have brought all of this about; government mandates, policy decisions made by the local governments and--more worryingly-- by your own country´s government. And while your mind is thus engaged, you are lulled by to sleep as the country side of Colombia, Ecuador, Peru, Bolivia, passes you by.