8 hours of bus travel today, and I am in Cuenca. Holly wrote saying she´d be here tomorrow as well. Maybe I will stalk her GAP group, like a spurned member.

I am sitting in a internet cafe where someone has let their gas escape them, so I´ll keep this one short.

Labels: cuenca, ecuador

Biking:

Downhill mountain biking in the rain, following the madman who would later become our rafting guide. He´s riding with his arms spread, singing love songs in Spanish. We ride through dark mountain tunnels, and stop to look at waterfalls. We cross a bridge, and a couple of us decide to jump off the bridge (tied to rope and harness, of course). A brief freefall interlude, swinging back and forth above the river below. Yeehaaaw! We continue our ride, and stop to ride a cable car across the canyon and back. Over the river, above the waterfall. We see the people on the Far Side briefly to say Adios, and return.

Rafting:

Madman Jack Sparrow is our rafting guide. He makes clear that our paddles are more important to us than our welfare. After gearing up in helmets, wetsuits and life jackets, and receiving operating and safety instructions, we take off in our red rubber raft. The class 3-4 rapids prove immediately to be challenging enough. ¨Forward, chicos!¨ Sparrow shouts. We paddle in unison, 3 on each side of the raft. ¨Faster forward, chicos! Faster, FASTER!¨ I am watching only the water where I am paddling, focusing on going faster. ¨LEAN IN! LEAN IN!¨ We don´t react fast enough - the raft is on the edge of a washing machine whirl pool, and the water pummels one side of the raft, causing it to flip. I am underwater, wondering why I haven´t popped straight to the surface. Someone is above me. If I hadn´t spent the last 3 years swimming, I would have panicked, but as is, I know I have some time. Within seconds, I am at the surface. The water is quite cold. I am near the raft, but see 2 paddles behind me in the whitewater, and grab them. The guide is first back in the boat, and grabs a guy and me and hauls us aboard. Within a minute we recover all passengers and paddles (some thanks due to the safety kayaker who was accompanying us. The kayaker later tells me he is fond of kayaking off of 50 meter high waterfalls...). From then on, we are all at high attention to Mad Max´s rowing instructions.

Hiking:

All the rafters have lunch in Puyo, and then the Israeli couple and I continue on to Camp Hola Vida, a jungle lodge. Our guide is Sebastian Moya, an indiginous fellow from the Shuar tribe. He speaks Quechua, his native Shuar, Spanish, English, German and is learning Dutch. I pretend like the design across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose is commonplace.

From the camp, we change into our rubber boots and panchos, and hike an hour to a waterfall. Despite the chilly air and cold water, I go for a swim in the waterfall´s base pool. The wind at the bottom of waterfall precedes the pounding water itself - the two collectively take your breath away.

We precede back to the camp, and help Sebastian in carrying foods up to a lodge farther up the hill. From this higher camp you get a good view of the surrounding mountain ranges. We help Sebastian fix a supper - vegetable soup, beef with sauce and bread, and then tuck ourselves into our rustic mosquito netted bunk beds. The bed with the net feels like a little protective sheet-fort, and I sleep well in this safety from bugs.

DAY 2:

Hiking:

I feel sick to the stomach, but rule number 1 for sickness is deny, deny, deny. I have little idea that we are in for a hugely muddy slog through jungle off-trail and rain. (Seriously, Sebastian is cutting part of the trail with his machete.) The rubber boots become invaluable with the wet and slippery conditions. Sliding is the new walking. When Sebastian stops to explain some jungle wisdom, my stomach starts to ache more. (But yet the jungle knowledge is interesting: ants that taste like lemon, blood of the dragon tree - a multi-medicinal tree, fiber tree, leaf cutting ants, dye, etc.) Finally, we reach a spot where we are supposed to change into our swimsuits to slog on through a river in just suits and boots. I sit out, feeling sick and cold already. But in the next 30 minutes spend all my time hiding in my pancho from the huge hovering mosquitos who are searching out my face.

Canoeing:

We go canoeing in a wooden made-from-tree-trunk canoe next, and only I get wet when our rower navigates us gingerly through the mild rapids.

Back at the lodge I rest in my mosquito net cacoon. I wake for spaghetti and some small talk, but otherwise try to buffer the digestive illnesses.

Today:

We go to a traditional Quechua Indian village where we drink traditional greeting drink that tastes like cocanut milk, watch the native dancers dance, buy native handmade crafts, and try our luck with a blow gun. (I hit the target, but did not have enough gusto in my blow, so it bounced off on impact.)

Soon enough we are returning to Puyo and Baños.

Tito, the kayaker from the rafting day has negotiated some kind of deal with me. I think he thinks that I am going to join him again tomorrow for a free rafting session, and that I´m supposed to write him an English referral touting his rafting guiding skills. This understanding could be wrong though - the little communication I have had with him so far has been confusing. Previously, I asked him ¨How do you say, ´how are you´ in Quechua?¨, and he responded with ¨I must keep things professional here.¨ Maybe he thought I was hitting on him. (Hardly.)

I have enjoyed the brief human interaction with the Israelis and Sebastian. The constant interaction with them has distracted me from my loss of the GAP group. I am realizing even more that the possibility of creating intimate friendships in such a transient social setting is practically impossible though.

Labels: baños, biking, camping, ecuador, hiking, jungle, puyo, quechua, rafting, waterfall

My first independent travel has gone fairly well. The bus connection did not go as smoothly as when the bus fares were Stevo-obtained - I ended up waiting about an hour - but nevertheless, I am here in Baños now, after a 3.5 bus ride. I pre-booked my hostel through the Extreme Jungle Tour group ($12 per night). Now having taken a tour of this very small, pedestrian friendly town, I am resting up for my intense, hopefully distracting jungle tour.

So Baños has all the brightly colored tourismo that the Mariscal district of Quito has, but add in a couple of colonial churches, a few quaint square parks, and a overall sense of serenity. The lack of overall auto traffic, the massive cliffsides surrounding this town, and I guess the general small town charm make this city much more user acceptable. I like it. There is also a vertically amazing waterfall cascading off the cliffs on the northeast end of town, called Manto de la Virgen, and the area is also known for its number of thermal pools (hence ¨Baños¨). Apparently this is a good town for mountain biking, hiring quads, getting massages, buying more native crafts, and Chiva rides as well.

Tonight: pack for my extreme tour. I doubt I´ll have internet access for the next few days (gasp!), and I doubt I´ll get to take a shower too the next few days too. I´ve been issued rubber boots, and been told to bring only my daypack. I hope this turns out well. I guess there are only a couple of other people on the tour, plus the tour guide. Check in with ya in a few days.

Labels: baños, ecuador, travel

I booked the Extreme Jungle Tour from Baños for Thurs - Sat. Note that in day 1 alone, the schedule includes:

• 2 hour bike ride


• 2-3 hour rafting


• 4 hour roundtrip hike to waterfall


• swim in waterfall

Sounds like a bit of a triathlon in itself, right? Maybe I´ll throw in a jog at the end.

Labels: baños, ecuador, hiking, jungle

It´s such a strange thing to cultivate intimate friendships with a group people over three weeks, and then part, to never meet again. Gwen and Kara, left yesterday morning, leaving invitations to visit New York. Lou, the Swiss woman, left for Spain yesterday afternoon to study Spanish. Stevo is beginning a new tour group, that travels back to Venezuela. He´s been warned of a group of girls joining the group who have been traveling around the continent and are notorious for their difficulty. Holly is joining her next GAP tour group. Harriet is flying to Santiago. The group of 3 from Fresno, CA are chilling out in Quito before they go to Galapagos.

Elisabeth, Natalie, Albert and I spent the evening together in the touristy Mariscal area of Quito. These 12 square blocks practically have every hostal, restaurant, bar, and tourism company in Quito. We found a kitsch, poppy restaurant that offered the first gourmet salad I´ve had in weeks. (We have generally been warned to avoid the lettuce for stomach health.)

Good byes to Albert, who is the best man in a wedding this weekend. Good byes to Lis who was very ready to leave. Ultimately I have found over the course of this GAP trip that the appeal of any given location is secondary to the people I am traveling with. It is so unfortunate that the social landscape has to be so nomadic while traveling. At least Natalie is here for a few days yet til her trip for Galapagos leaves. I am having dinner with her tonight.

I have found a hostel today - El Cafecito. I am a bit intimidated by the predominance of hardened, wizened, and laid back travelers there. We´ll see if I can find some people who are as uptight and reserved as I am.

I imagine the pace of this blog will change now that I am planning every step myself. I am thinking to leave for Baños (South America´s bathroom!) tomorrow. It´s a 3.5 hour bus ride away. I may look for a short jungle tour there into the Southern Oriente jungle.

Labels: ecuador, hostels, people, quito, travel

Just curious....

Labels: blog

Otavalo: mucho shopping, not enough haggling over prices. In the evening we ate at a fine Ecuadorian restaurant where guinea pig was on the menu. I tried it again, but alas, the second guinea pig wasn´t any better than the first I tried last November. This time I ordered the full guinea pig, and it was served spread eagle, with its head still on. Quite gross.

Afterwards, several of us went to watch a cock fight. All things considered, cock fighting seems a bit more tame than say, playing first person shooters, except that one chicken per round gets its head pecked pretty good. The birds are quite pretty though, and the owners seem to take great pride in them. We only watched two rounds before Stevo, Gwen, Kara, Natalie and I went to a dance club, and monopolized half of the dance floor, dancing our silly, gangly gringo style to Latin beats.

I am back in Quito now, and the tour group is disbanding. We had a very fine tapas dinner with all-you-can-eat treats and wine for our last group dinner. I am truly happy to have met so many interesting people, and sad to see everyone leave. I am staying tonight in the same upscale hotel Natalie is tonight, and then I will look for a hostal to stay in, in hopes of meeting other travelers headed south. I plan to research my next leg of the journey for 2 or 3 days in Quito before taking off. Time to restock, rest, and recover.

I´m on my own now for the true southern migration!

Labels: cockfighting, dancing, ecuador, gap, otavalo, people, quito

The man at the hacienda sent Elisabeth (the Norwegian woman) and I to a grassy mountain that went straight up at an incredibly steep grade. No switchbacks. The starkness of the mountain seemed ridiculous - is there anything to see here? The high altitude made the climb very slow, and we rested every 5 minutes or so. At points the exertion plus thin air made me almost dizzy.

Eventually, at the top of the hill, we could see a solitary tree. Then a neglected farm. Next, three high altitude sheep. Lis had been warned about the three mean dogs, that ¨bark but don´t bite¨. Nevertheless, she picked up a rock, and I held my walking stick ready. A furry pig and two chickens. We followed a trail past the small houses to another hill. A horse, a donkey, and 3 bulls, the latter nicely tethered, but don´t walk too close anyway. Straight up the golden hill, and the top was the Internet. A great tower with a chain link fence and sign posted about connecting the area to the internet. Sweeeet. A great 360 degree view from the Top, Cayambe Volcano visible through the clouds. The farms and towns wrapped around the hill, a massive bowl in the Andes.

On returning to the hacienda, I was invited to join some others to visit the *real* center of the Earth. The museum in Quito that features the real center of the earth apparently still isn´t real. So pah. This center featured a line through an indiginous astronomical chartm, and I guess at the very least, this could be seen as the most historic center of the Earth. Apparently, the eastern and western Andes make it possible to better track the movement of the sun, so the people here knew they were on the Equator.

Female hearts rejoice - Albert has joined the tour again. He´s back to normal, and back to add his lawyerly mind to our conversations.

Last night: a bonfire, and a astronomy lesson. The equator is the only place you can see all the stars rise and set. (The big dipper is always lower in the sky.)

Today we road in the back of a pickup truck to Otavalo, the massive Quechua market. A lot of the Quechua Indians are amazingly short (3 to 4 feet tall), and they make a lot of clothes out of alpaca and sheep. Fun!

Labels: cayambe, ecuador, equator, hiking, otavalo

Leaving for Papallacta, the group was greeted with dismal news: Albert was sick and would be staying behind. The collective female mind weeped for the group's only available bachelor under the age of 37. And somehow it seemed a bit wrong to be leaving one of our tour members behind in the hotel in Quito while we went to go relax at a spa. The justification for allowing this was that we would be back the next day to pick him up again, if he felt better.

Ecuador reigns as far as fantastic mountainous scenery goes. Snaking through the Andes on yet another bus, being wooed to sleep while trying to pay attention to impossibly steep mountains, generally bald of trees, reminiscent of California's blonde rolling hills. The grass covering the hills was furry and cowlicky, resembling the guinea pigs that people here are fond of eating.

The feature of Papallacta was thermal hot springs, surrounded by rustic cabins, and a nearby spa. The bone-chilly weather was inspiring a new blue period in me, and I was fairly un-participatory in the activities there. No spa treatment for me, no siree! No, hot springs! No hike in the morning through the cloud forest to view birds and mammals. Nope, none of that. I ate a good supper, went to bed early, slept in, ate a good breakfast, and found my waist strap on my backpack would not fit properly about my waste, when we left the place today.

Having stewed in my moodiness though, I now feel quite ready to enjoy this beautiful country, despite the cold. (Note to self: buy more cold weather clothes.) We are now staying at a stately hacienda in Cayambe. A cursory look has revealed a swimming pool (!), a bella vista of horses grazing at the base of a mountain, all within a few kilometers of the equator! We get 2 nights here, so I hope for an enjoyable day tomorrow, even if one little Indian of our group is missing. (We looked for Albert in Quito en route to Cayambe, and found he had checked out of the hotel at 10:30am today. The collective female heart worried, while Steve played it off as some story about him meeting a hot Ecuadorian woman and being whisked away by her. Ya, right.)

Labels: cayambe, ecuador, people, quito

My last day in Cartegena was a clammy, molasses-paced day of putzing around old town by myself. The Monday brought out a horde of pedestrians and taxis that clogged the narrow streets and sidewalks, and the thick, humid heat keeps one from moving or thinking too fast. I managed to get lost enough times in the confusing, multi-named streets that I eventually began to recognize landmarks. I wasn´t feeling quite at home though, rather a bit sour due to the lack of general company and ambition to explore. I suppose it´s important to kick back occasionally, and recoup from all the mad rush activity.

In the evening, Holly, Harriet, Albert and I found an excellent thin crust pizza place near San Diego Square, which is much more low key than Santo Domingo Square, where we ate the previous evening. Following, Holly introduced us to a local friend she had made, a highly political Colombian American, who was certain the Iran had the most religious integrity, and that JFK was killed by Cuban mobsters. Beyond some of his more irritating notes though, he was able to inform us where the term ¨gringo¨ came from. Apparently, the US military was the first to wear green, and some Mexican (or other) revolutionaries who took exception to the military´s presence would say ¨Green, go home.¨ Stevo´s theory however came from a Panamanian street worker, who says that following their visits, American men would ¨grin and then go.¨ Note: google this later...

Yesterday the group flew to Quito. Having come from Venezuela and Colombia, Quito is feeling very metropolitan and wired. Almost logical traffic patterns, sensible bus lines, user-friendly hotels and streets, 75 cent/hour internet readily available. At the same time, the party sector of town seems rather corrupted and shallow with all its cheap shots and house music - I almost prefer the touristy restaurants of the coastal towns.

Labels: cartegena, colombia, ecuador, people, quito

Cartegena is a beautiful colonial town, reminicsent of European cities. Narrow streets, lined with orange and coral colored colonial buildings, all within city walls that protect against pirates. Outside the historic downtown is the modern Cartegena, but that does not seem too interesting at this point. I am happy with just strolling along the old streets, and being hounded by street vendors to buy their necklaces. One square in particular, the Santo Domingo Square, has proved a good place to sit at an outdoor cafe, watch Caribbean style dancers, listen to mariachis, and eat overpriced food, all in a golden gas-lamp light after dark.

Yesterday, Natalie, Gwen, Kara, Albert and I joined a small tour to a volcano that features a mud bath. On arriving, I was shocked - the volcano looked like a big ant hill, a few stories high. A stair case led to the top - the whole production looked pathetic. I thought I was in for a scam. There was one mad bath, the size of a hot tub, at the top, with people covered completely in mud. Bathers getting out looked more like posing statues of mud, than people. Everyone who got into the bath before me had a look of surprise on their faces. And sure enough, it was quite surprising for me too. You climb down a little ladder into the mud, but after the last wrung on the ladder, there is no floor to step onto, you just are suspended in the mud. The mud is really more of a smooth, gray sludge, so viscous, it is hard to position yourself about. People on one end of the pool lend a hand to others getting in, to pull them across the sludge. The whole experience of sitting in mud is so strange that it´s really quite enjoyable.

After getting out of the mud, you go down to the side of the lake, where gnarled Carribean women are ready to help you wash off. They use a dish to drown you in a waterfall of water, and with you sitting shoulder high in murky water, the women even help to remove your swimsuit to wash it clean. Hmm, wasn´t expecting that one!

Today I am planning on strolling about Cartegena, while others go to a island park. This is my last day in Colombia, and I´d rather enjoy the city than visit more natural parks.

Labels: colombia, mud, volcano

The ¨highlight¨ side trip of the GAP tour - an overnight excursion in Tayrona National Park - started with a bit of vomitar from my poor roommate Natalie. I, sleeping soundly with my Pretty in Pink ear plugs, had been completely unaware of her miserable state all throughout the night. The consequential frazzle in the morning that followed on finding her sick launched me into a bit of melancholy mood as we hiked through the market streets of Santa Marta to reach an odd bus station next to a super mercado, where a peddlar was selling a couple of mangy amazon parrots that were perched on his finger. A sweaty 45 minute bus ride on a school bus that appeared out of nowhere to magically sweep up away, and we found ourselves on a dusty street in the middle of nowhere. Stevo led us to the park entrance, a woman with her child sitting behind a fold up table next to a dusty trail.

The first leg of the hike led primarily uphill to the historic town of Pueblito, a ghost-indiginous town. Still in bit of a sour mood, I paid little attention to my surroundings, but enjoyed hiking with the most energetic Holly. We arrived at the town before everyone else, and while eating lunch in awaiting the others, an old wizard of a fellow stopped by.

¨2 questions for you, my dearies,¨ he said. ¨First, are you the indigenous people of Pueblito?¨ Why no, I replied. ¨Good. Second, were you waiting on me?¨ He was implying how slowly he walked in comparison to us. He had seen us cruising by earlier on the trail. ¨No again,¨ we replied. Our answers were satisfactory, because he gave each of us a mango. It was by far one of the best mangoes I´ve ever had. I¨ve never been much of a mango fan before, but now am.

Pueblito featured a family of indiginous people selling agua and colas, a family of turkeys strutting chaotically about, a cat, and a series of old stone and thatched roofed buildings, nicely connected by a series of foot paths. I guess there was some bit about feeling some sort of energy in certain stone circles the indiginous people had set up, but I was feeling quite the contrary... Out of energy on the sweltering day that it was. I wasted 8 of my 15 remaining photos on a furry white catepillar, not knowing that my camera was about to run out of battery.

The second leg of the hike was much more enjoyable. Maybe partly because I was walking alone (but not far from the others), and partly because the path led over a jumble of boulders. A lot of climbing over rocks, that were wedged into crevices, and with a nervous view of the ground 30 feet down. The jungle seemed thinner here, I suddenly noticed the interesting fauna - brown trees with bark peeling, and columnus flowers that looked like red corn on the cob. Towards the end of the trek, the jungle opened up into a banana plantation, that was intermingled with tall stately palm trees. In this area, I saw 3 (spider) monkeys dropping from the high palm branches down into some lower trees.

The feature of this trek was the beach at Cabo San Juan. Beyond being a most beautiful beach with great slabs of rock nestling the small white beaches and perfectly sea-ward slanted palm trees, it was also a backpackers paradise. A whole field of tents under the palms, an open hut full of hammocks, and on the prominotory overlooking the beach, another house called the Island, with hammocks. A good stock of backpacking visitors were already there, curly hair, dread locks, 20 something, guitar players, drifters.

The evening included: wandering and wondering on a beach, before and after dark, watching waves crash, waiting for other hikers in the group to finish. Contemplating the crashing waves, in the same way that I used to watch the undulating stream of water in a particular fountain on UT campus, hours on end. Much lounging on the beach, some good company, and a hard night´s sleep on an unexpected bed - the ground. (We were expecting to be able to obtain hammocks, but they were all filled up.)

Today we have moved onto our final stop in Colombia: Cartagena. This is the first place that has truly earned the title of ¨quaint, colonial downtown.¨ We are expecting to explore a few islands over the next few days, and maybe visit a mud bath volcano while here.

Labels: camping, colombia, hiking, santamarta, tayrona

Santa Marta:
An open-court yarded hotel, in the colonial district. Sweaty hot rooms (no AC in mine. The shower pours directly into the toilet, in my tiny bathroom. The only picture on the wall is of a trailer park. Ironic.)

Many poor beggars in the main square of this downtown district. Peddlars, pizza kiosks, restaurants along the board walk with loud music. During the day, many fussgangers out and about, and not as many cars.

Today we went to Taganga, the little fishing village right over the mountain from Santa Marta. Objective: scuba diving. There were 12 of us, those who were certified already (me), those who needed refreshers courses, and those who had never dived, and wanted to take a mini-course in diving. We geared up, and I spent my afternoon down by the beach. Reading, floating, swimming.

2pm, scuba time. Apparently this area is not the place to pelagics, but a wonderland of coral gardens lies beneath the ocean. I am not about to know all the various types of coral, but there was a rich collection of brain corals, big steam pipe looking corals, sea fans, fungal looking corals, the little sea flowers that pop into their caverns when you pass, and more! Very beautiful. Wildlife: sea horse, moray eels, butterfly fish, spear fish, trumpet fist, lobsters in abundance, an octupus.

On boat, after dives, we danced to Bob Marley, calypso, salsa. We ate sandwiches on a nearby beach. We arrived back to Toganga near dusk, as the low sun was just peaking out of the overcast cloudy sky. From sea, the town looked enchanting in the low light.

A good day.

Labels: colombia, scuba, taganga, wildlife

Up at 6:30am. A stifling 3 hour school bus ride to Maracalba, a large city with an impressive downtown that crowds up against the sea.

There we hired por puestos, which are collective taxis, typically Chevy sedans from the 60´s or 70´s with bench seats. (Por puestos fill up the taxi with 5 people going to the same place before leaving. Fortunately, our group numbers 15, and fits nicely into 3 por puestos.) I was in a por puesto with Natalie, Albert, Kara and Gwen, and we were fortunate to get the only por puesto with air-conditioning. Our drivers´ name was Josue from Colombia. He told us that Colombia is much safer that Venezuela these days. Good to know.

We drove in the por puesto for 3 hours, and crossed the border. It was as easy as crossing from Mexico to the US.

Last 4 or so hours in a very luxury bus (with toilets, movies, and air conditioning!) At last, we arrived at 10pm (with a one hour time change) in Santa Marta, a large, progressive looking city on the ocean.

Labels: colombia, santamarta, travel

Our grand effort today was to hike at San Luis Mountain, south of the peninsula. Coro is in the neck of the small peninsula (that is just south of Aruba!), and much of the fauna here is deserty - organ pipe cacti and scrubby shrubbery is reminiscent of the Sonoran Desert. South of the this peninsula, the mountains that cover the rest of the coastal area are prevalent, and its cooler. More jungle, small jungle towns. An old Spanish colonial trail connects two towns in this area that I will call C1 and C2.

The idea: take a non-official taxi to the closest city (C1), deliver bread and oil to friends of our hostel manager, Lupe and Gastavo, hike south to C2, catch a bus to a waterfall, and take a taxi back home. I was travelling with Kara and Gwen, daughter/mother team from New York, and Albert from San Francisco.

Objective: bread and oil delivery. Apparently these are hard items to obtain in jungle towns that can only be reached by long twisty roads through mountains. Gustavo was in his garden when we arrived, and he promptly introduced us to his mother, and welcomed us inside his house. A big fire was burning in a large hearth, and the rooms were small and cozy. Mother offered us coffee paqueno, that was grown in the backyard. Gustavo showed us a couple herbs - mint, some kind of lemony herb used for the flu and for tea. Objective completed, with only minimal awkward smiling and nodding at their fractionally understood Spanish.

The trail started as a wide grassy, mowed road. Feature of the trail: 3 caves. Cave numero uno was off to the left, and proved to be the watery grave home for minnows, and ugly gollums in the dark. We skipped exploring that one.

Cave numero dos to the right was much more friendly. Kara is not much for spelunking, so Gwen, Albert and I pulled out our head lamps from our bags and took off without her. A cleanly muddy, bugless, twisty cave. I was surprised the cave even was longer than an alcove in the mountain, so each new room that opened up to us seemed like its own mini-adventure. When the cave narrowed to merely crawl space, Gwen turned back, and Albert and I went on, crawling through the muck for only a moment to find yet another room! And a glimpse of daylight ahead. We found the other entrance, and a huge cavern that went deeper in. We decided to turn back.

While in the cave, a vicious howler monkey lurked above Kara, waiting outside. It threatened her with its howling, would have attacked, but changed its mind at last minute.

Cave numero tres was well removed from the main trail, and didn't prove very inviting, as it was a huge open cavern with no apparent path to follow through it.

The main trail narrowed into a small foot trail through unmowed grass, and over Spanish colonial road rocks that were slippery with moss. The going was quite slow over the rest of the hike, trying to maneuver over all the rocks. At one point I heard the howling of monkeys again. Faint at first, it was a constant moaning, like a distant steamboat horn. We got closer, and howling didnt' stop - and then changed to the sound of a howling wind in the trees. A strange flute made by hollow trees? But then the howl would chuckle like a monkey, and switch to a mad wind in the next moment. The jungle off-trail was too thick to investigate the sound (all the men carry machetes around here for a good reason). We left it as a mystery, but I think it was the wind.

We finally reached C2, and met up with the Baltimore boys who are staying at our hotel in Coro. A delicious meal of goat (chivo), black beans, arepa (non-sweet cornbread pancakes sans baking soda/powder), potato salad. Muy rico. And at last, final objective: catch a taxi/bus to the waterfalls.

Turned out some of the locals had been waiting on a bus for 2 days already. Taxis were not all that common breed of car in the area. C2 was advanced enough to have an internet cafe amongst its chickens and cows, but not a ton of folks going to Coro, an hour away, on a Monday afternoon. There was some stress amongst my travel companions as we all waited very patiently. After an hour, a big magic van appeared from nowhere, and offered us a ride to Coro. So no waterfall - transportation was far too sparse.

Yesterday I hung out with the boys from Baltimore. We visited the sand dunes outside of town, which were amazingly like most of the other sand dunes I've seen. We then took a taxi (por puesto) to a town on the peninsula - Adicoro. This was a small fishing town where windsurfing and kite surfing was popular. We swam in the ocean and enjoyed seeing the area.

Tomorrow is a long travel day: about 12 hours. We are going to Colombia. Apparently there are many border stops for passport checks previous to the border, so we are hiring por puestos instead of taking the bus. After crossing the border, we are taking an air-conditioned bus (a luxury) to Santa Marta.

Labels: coro, hiking, venezuela, wildlife

At last I'm in Coro, a fairly large city with English keyboards, access to the windows desktop, and all I need to update my blog and photo site! Yay! We are staying at Tan Tan House in the historical part of town. I have yet to explore, as we just got in today by bus.

The last two nights and yesterday we stayed in Chichiviriche (pronounced as it looks). There is not much to the small town - a lot of tourist shops selling snorkeling gear, swim suits, buckets and pales, etc. A line of restaurants along the sea front, and a line of jewerly venders along the boardwalk. The real attraction to Chichiviriche is an archipelego offshore and easily accessible by speedboat. Stevo, the tour guide, hired a couple of boats to take us to a few of the highlights.

From the boat, you can see 2 or 3 islands at a time. Some of the islands feature long stretches of white sands, others are made up of purely mangrove trees grounded in muck. One island is merely an atoll, treeless, but crowded with beach umbrellas and tourists nonetheless.

I guess Venezuela had its independence day this week, so the tourists (mainly local Venezuelans) are out in force. The first island beach we stopped at was incredibly packed with people, and on finding that we'd be there 2 hours, I went exploring with Stevo. We found a small tiny strip of sand on the other side of the island, nestled in by mangroves, and I stayed to snorkel in very shallow water. I found beautiful conch shell, and remembered another conch shell that I had found once in Puerto Rico, once upon a time. I killed the conch with bleach and took the shell home with me. I left this one put.

The next stop we went to was called "La Piscina" - the pool. It was a shallow azure lagoon where people would hang around their pimped out boats and drink beer. There were vendors walking around in the waist deep water selling drinks in styrofoam coolers. Not quite my scene, but I did some laps across the lagoon, and floated for a while. I really enjoy floating in the ocean.

Lastly we stopped at El Sombrero Cayo (sp?) island. Practically the whole island is surrounded by nice white sand, and a good deal of the beach has an amazingly well intact reef 30 feet off the beach. I spent some time snorkeling, and walked around with one girl Kara, and her mother Gwen.

Those are in short the events. The whole point of this though is in trying to get along with the random selection of 14 people I am forced to spend 3 weeks with. This is always a struggle, and I most sensitively try to interact with these people, while analyzing my own reactions. I do not feel like I clique with anyone, but I get along with several. The Norwegian woman, Elisabeth, is into cyclocross, so we went jogging this morning together. A British girl, Natalie, is very sweet and sensitive, and we've been roomed together most nights, with a couple of other British girls. The only single young fellow on the trip, Albert, is an interesting guy from San Francisco. And the teachers from Fresno (3, all older) are nice to talk to. A very vocal multi-lingual woman from Switzerland is always available to chat. And Kara and her mother seem friendly as well. However, I interact best with these people 1 on 1, and in the group, I feel quite lost. I also realize my world is shrinking, as these are the only people I have regular communication with now. Stay in touch!

Tech note: I will not be able to fix CSS for firefox, because apparently firefox is unheard of overseas. If anyone wants to help me with that one, please do.

Labels: chichivirche, people, snorkeling, swimming, venezuela

A brief update:

Our hiking leader yesterday was a tall blonde amazon German named Claudia, in her mid-40s. We went on a 6 mile hike through the jungle, and Claudia´s knowledge and expertise, both in hiking and in the history and usage of the jungle was quite interesting. We saw: Blue and red crickets, huge long millipedes, large red flowers that can be fashioned into clown noses at carnival, a tree with needle pins in its bark, plants used for sewing and for rope. Huge dirt mounds of leaf cutting ants - which collect leaves to grow mushrooms. They feed the mushrooms to the lice, which they then milk. Toads, lizards, hummingbirds, lots of butterflies. Minty sap from a tree. Papaya trees, banana trees (the banana tree is actually a type of grass). Papaya trees, avocado trees. A 600 year old tree. Bittercane, used for construction, and sugarcane. We visited a sugar cane processing factory, which was all doen manually, using a manual press, big boiling vats, and scoops. For lunch, Claudia fixed us delicious sandwiches, and a ton of local fruit. Including star fruit, cantaloupe, guava.

We finished the trek with a cold beer, and a dip in a cold stream. (There were worms on the rocks, and Claudia says, Dont worry, they wont suck your blood. When they dry out on you they´ll just die. AHhhh, thanks for the assurance.)

We didnt see a ton of birds - more are visible in the town, such as the green parrots that fly above the hotel, sqwaking. It turns out that we are actually in the town Puerto Colombia. Choroni, which is where we thought we were, is a couple miles inland. Apparently all the residents of this coast would build their cities welll off of the coast to protect from pillaging pirates in the area.

Labels: choroni, venezuela

The GAP tour group has 14 people! It wasnt until yesterday that the tour guide, a weazly skinny British man Stevo, told us this that is the first time this tour has run in 5 years. Stevo has spent a lot of time in Colombia, and says it is a very friendly country.

A group of 15 is quite inefficient. We sit for 30 minutes at the restaurant before we get to la cuenta, por favor. 1/2 are American, about 5 Brits, a Swiss, and a Norwegian. Definitely a challenge to my social receptors, as I usually avoid such large groups and group dinners back home.

The bus ride to Choroni was a trip! The first leg to Maracoy tested my lack of an iron-bladder. No bathrooms on the bus, no stops for 3 hours. Much jumping, rocking, angst and frustration, as the bus eeked through the country side, through Maracoy, stopping frequently. Finally at the bus station, they charge you to use the restroom. Seems bathroom usage should be built in to the bus fare, as it is really a basic necessity, as are seats on the bus.

The second leg went through Henri Pittier National Park. A school bus, gunning it up hills, around hair-pin curves, on a street that can hardly fit 2 cars across, blaring the horn on blind curves, never letting up on the speed. The driver looked about 18, and was blasting his salsa music. We were driving through amazing mountains, cliff on one side, drop off on the other. The road was surrounded my fairly lush tropical greenery, including bunches of bamboo. As we got higher in the mountain, it started to rain! So everyone on the bus put there shaded windows up, which cut off the light source. So zipping around hairpin curves, on a bus, in the rain, in the dark! I was sitting next to the Norwegian girl, and going around every other turn, I{d slide on the slippery bus seat, into her. (We hardly both fit on the seat, but the bus was so full, we all had to squeeze onto the seats.)

The road finally started down the mountain (on the other side? Hard to tell,with so much winding around.). Small road side huts, selling fruits and whatnot, started popping up. We{d see kids walking down the roads, and more double, triple and quadruple seated motorcycles zipping along past the bus. Finally we were in Choroni, along the coast.

We are staying in a quaint, hole-in-the-wall hotel (posado) called Tom Carral. I am rooming with 2 of the British girls on the 3rd floor (the only room up there). The town is tiny... I went running around the whole town, plus down to Playa Grande and back, and it only took 15 minutes.

This morning Stevo hired a couple of fishermen{s boats, and we went to a cocoa town on the coast, that can only be reached by boat. The town is surrounded by more of the massive mountains that are in Henri Pittier National Park. Some beautiful scenery. I bought some bitter chocolate.

Next stop on the boats was at a beach farther down the coast. I spent some time swimming over a reef near the beach and near the cliffs that meet the water. I saw a small sea turtle and a jelly fish (which I steered clear of). Floated in the water some, and enjoyed the sky. Climbed a rocky slabbed cliff overlooking the water. Laid in the sand down on the playa. Watched a little 3 or 4 year old boy run around in his underwear with a little fish, that he was flying through the air like a airplane. (Cute!) Enjoyed this little visited coast.

Sorry if this is a little less than descriptive. There is only this old internet terminal in the hotel office, and no other internet outlet. The space bar keeps sticking. And my eyes are a bit red from all the salt water. So feeling less than creative. I will try to check in a bit more often.

Tomorrow half of us are doing a 5 mile trek in the jungle with a German guide. There is supposed to be fresh water swimming and lunch included. Sounds good to me.

Labels: choroni, gap, swimming, travel, venezuela

This morning Jenny and I were going to go hiking up Mt. Avila, which is the mountain between Caracas and the ocean. We went to meet Jose, a marine friend of Jenny´s. Apparently there was a bit of a miscommunication, because he thought we were just going up the teleferico cable car. That´s what we ended up doing. The city is huge, there are a ton of skyscrapers, and then shanty towns are obviously visible on tops of some of the hills.

I guess Hugo Chavez has changed the name of Venezuela to Republic Bolivar of Venezuela (need to doublecheck that). He has changed the flag. He wants to change the currency. He mandates that 90% of the music on radio stations must play Venezuelan music. He promises to clean up the dirty canal running through town - he claims he will go swimming in this canal. Jenny and Jose - the diplomat and the marine - are in very interesting positions, being in a country posed for socialism, and that hates the US. J likewise notes that HC doesn´t care much from the Drug Enforment Administration, for which she works, so is doubly disliked by him.

After the teleferico, we went to a flea market in a bad part of town to find me a cheap watch. Jenny says goods are extremely expensive in Ven, and she orders all her food and supplies online. Technically, the ambassador community is part of the US mail delivery areas, so American Airlines brings their mail in - and ordering online from US vendors is possible.

Labels: venezuela