Tiff arrives in Cusco amid smuggling busts and an insulin pump crisis

Well, the unthinkable has happened. I am prettymuch caught up on blogging, just in time for the arrival of my mommy at 7 am tomorrow! Which of course means that for the next three weeks, I will probably fall behind again.

I do, of course, have a few stories from the last three days, which I have spent in Cusco.

First of all, I had the most interesting bus ride of my life between Copacabana in Bolivia to Cusco in Peru. I had purchased a ticket to leave at 10:30 in the morning, and when I arrived at the ticket office, I was informed there was a "problem" with the bus. Of course there was a problem with the bus! Apparently, it couldn't arrive because there was a roadblock caused by a strike, and the bus coming from La Paz couldn't get through. So I would have to wait for the 1:30. I was mildly perturbed, even though there was nothing anyone could do to have prevented this sort of thing, because I had spent the last of my Bolivianos because I thought I was leaving. For unexplained reasons, taking the 1:30 bus elicited a refund of 20 Bolivianos, which was just enough for an hour of internet and a cheap lunch. Things were shaping up okay!

The 1:30 bus arrived and off I went, a quick hop to the border and through immigration yet again. The Peruvian offical gave me a hearty "Como estas?" and I was in Peru! Skirting the edge of the lake, we arrived in Puno and changed buses, which is where things became very interesting. All of us gringos had to jump different buses, and I ended up in a rattly contraption filled with cholas and their huge bundles. Several bundles and cholas had invaded my seat, and they basically told me to find a different seat, so I sat in the only available row. I was soon joined by a jovial Brazilian. I had planned to spend the day listening to my ipod, but he was so chatty and interesting that I quickly abandoned that plan. Along the way, I learned that we had a lot in common: political science majors, he wants to teach, we were both fatties back in the day and carry with us the emotional scars and a little remaining physical baggage as well (I love boys with tummies!). It was so nice to have a genuine conversation with someone in Spanish, something I haven't really had since I left Chillan. Will, being Brazilian, could talk for days, and I spent a lot of time listening to his stories and thoughts about life. We have similar political interests as well, and I think he was secretly impressed I knew a little something about Brazilian politics (thank you, senior-year thesis, you have finally paid off!). Soon, we had to change buses again to accomodate all the cholas and their baggage, and we made sure to get seats together. He began to teach me how to hit on men in Portuguese, and soon we were talking about past relationships (well, he was, anyway) and other crazy stories from our past, followed by some Bob Dylan and Manu Chau on my ipod. It was by far the best first date I have ever had. It even ended with some kissing and cuddling. I can think of no better way to pass 12 hours on a bus, and I wish I had caught onto this sooner! I am actually pretty devastated that I will never see this character again...he was so right for me! And available...I never like available men! (I realize, of course, that he was not that available, being a resident of Rio de Janiero, thousands of miles away from Seattle.)

Another interesting annectdote about our time on the bus...the cholas were smuggling contraband (shoes, electronics, etc.) from Bolivia and trying to take it into Paraguay, and we were stopped by the police not once but twice! The first time, they pulled a chola and all her baggage out, and she put up quite a resistance. The second time, when we were right on the edge of Cusco, we were stopped and then a police escort took us to a police station. On the ride, the cholas were throwing things out the windows, and trying to hide the contraband among other passengers' baggage. It was utter madness! When we reached the station, the police ordered everyone off the bus, and the cholas threw a fit and demanded that we stay where we were. Will led us all off the bus, and into a freezing downpour. Hello Cusco! The gringos were excused and we all took taxis into town. Earlier that day, I had thought I would take a nice, scenic busride and arrive in Cusco by 7:30. Here I was in the middle of a downpour at 1:30 in the morning in the middle of a smuggling bust! I can't say that I didn't enjoy every minute of the day, though, since it led me to Will. I woefully said goodbye to my Brazilian boyfriend, and took a taxi to my hostel, alone again (naturally).

The next day, I woke up ready to do some exploring and run errands to prepare for the eminent arrival of my mom! After my shower, I noticed my insulin pump displaying a low battery warning. I went to unscrew the cap and replace the battery, and the plastic cap snapped off, leaving the screw part and the battery stuck inside my pump! Even if I had been able to extract the battery, it would have done me no good, as a new battery would not have stayed in place. I panicked for a moment, then went to an internet cafe an called my pump company. They would be able to get a replacement pump to my mom the next day, and she could bring it with her to visit me. I would only have to be on shots for four days! Although this seemed to work out okay, I was devastated by the failure of a machine that my life depends on. Also, I hate taking shots. It's so hard. I don't know how I did it for so long. Another little hiccup: my pump warranty ran out on January 17, 2009...so I just missed getting a new pump for free. Not really sure how I am going to pay for this new pump, but both my parents and the pump representative assured me I could work that out when I get home.

I spent most of that day on the internet talking on the phone to various family members and friends. It was nice to connect with everyone, especially since I was feeling a little down about my pump situation. I would like to point out that my pump has only failed me twice, and both times I have been out of the country! I cannot wait to hook up with my diabetic pal Andrea, who had a pump failure recently in Europe, to commiserate! God I love my diabetic friends!

The next day, I had planned to do some sight-seeing, but my bloodsugars were fluctuating (and still are) between 50 and 350, which makes me feel like crap. I spent the morning in a cafe, waiting for my bloodsugar to come down. I was feeling a little fragile, and for some reason, listening to Modest Mouse's "Positive Negative," I had a little meltdown. Tears started rolling down my cheeks, and I had my first South-American cry. To put things in perspective, I didn't even cry about ____, really, so I was feeling pretty low. However, I pulled myself together, and soon the darling waiter was drawing me a map of good dance clubs. I intend to explore one tonight!

Since my meltdown, I have been taking things pretty slow, sleeping a lot, and saving up my tourist energies for my mom. I feel like Cusco takes a lot of energy, and I have sort of run out of the energy required of me to be a tourist. Here, especially, it is all about gringos, and people always try to get you to buy stuff, or speak English to you. The idea that good customer service means speaking English, even though every time I respond in Spanish, is really frustrating for me. I also hate seeing little kids as vendors. It is super manipulative and exploitative. They have little scripts memorized in English, and when you say no, they ask, "Why not?" and say, "Maybe later?" It makes me crazy.

I have been trying to focus on diabetes, which has proved challenging for me. Today, for instance, I forgot to take my long-acting insulin shot, because I am not in the habit of taking shots at all, and got another near-400 bloodsugar. Wonderful. I was already looking forward to seeing my mom, and now that she has my pump, 7 am could not come fast enough!

Especially since I have been feeling very lonely lately. It sounds stupid to say, but I am trying to be honest...my night with Will was somehow really special to me. I felt like I was part of a couple for several hours, and it showed me how nice it would be to travel with a partner. I really want that. Thank god I will have my mom with me for the next three weeks; it will keep me from doing something hideously desperate!

I resolved last night to fend off loneliness by making friends. I hate making friends on the road, truth be told, because I am really not interested in knowing the majority of people I come across, especially in hostels. It might sounds snobby, but especially when you won't be seeing them again in all likelihood...I just like to hold out for the people that really pique my interest. However, resolved to hold loneliness at bay for one more day, I accepted an invitation from an Austrailian girl to have a beer up in the hostel bar. I was kind of bored by her and her friends' interractions, and used their move to the pool table to join a group of people I thought looked cool. Umm, let me just say I have great instincts, because two of the girls ended up being from Seattle! We drunkenly chatted for awhile, and then I got up to use the restroom, leaving my beer with two guys to my left. When I came back, I realized they didn't understand what I had said, so we started chatting in Spanish, and it turned out they, along with another friend, were Chileans from Santiago! I spent the next hour or two with them. The feeling of meeting people from Chile on the road is amazing...it's like, finally, people I understand and feel connected to! It was awesome to speak Chilean Spanish all night, use the Chilean modismos, hang out with people I genuinely liked. I hope to see them again when I pass through Santiago...one of them owns a restaurant, which can only lead to good things!

So here I am now, on the eve of my mom's arrival. It is going to be an insanely busy three weeks, but having her here with me to share the stress and bring me a piece of home at a time when I am faltering, when I really need someone to build me up....well, the timing couldn't be better.

And now, I must be brave, go get ready, and meet some Peruvians who will hopefully want to dance with me! Wish me luck!

Lake Titicaca--Part II

My final day in Copa passed quietly. I walked around the town a bit more, and reveled in the Cathedral, which was tiled in the Moorish style. There was a festival going on, celebrating the Virgin of Calendaria (still not quite sure what that means), which meant the streets were choked with Bolivians reveling in the festivities. From what I can tell, when Bolivians celebrate, they mostly get plastered. There were several sites where live bands were playing, sometimes folkloric bands and sometimes brass bands. The Bolivians gathered around crates of beer, wearing festive paper and aluminum hats, and throwing paper confetti everywhere. There was much dancing and cajoling going on. At one point, on my way to exchange some money (Copa doesn't have an ATM, a minor sore spot with me), a highly inebriated Bolivian man missing most of his teeth grabbed my arm, thrust a cup of beer into my hand, and proceeded to convince me that his life would not be complete until I danced with him on the day of the Virgin. There were three cholas with him, one of whom, I discovered, was his wife, and they thought this entire episode was hysterical. They were all equally faded, and sort of swaying around waving their hands in the air and giggling at the scene I was making. I really wanted to take a picture of this event, but I didn't want to seem rude. I finally broke away, promising to return, and when I passed by again, they were all being packed into a van to head home. I rarely see grown adults drink so much that they cannot stand up, but all over the streets, Bolivians were slumped in various stages of drunkeness.

In unrelated news, this is Bolivian popcorn, which sustained me during my Isla del Sol walks and my final day in Copa. It is a cross between Kashi and caramel corn--very puffy and lightly sweetened. Me gusta mucho!
Several pictures of the beautiful cathedral.

A parade of festive Bolivians dancing through the plaza.

Celebrations in the street.

It was kind of fun being present for a festival, an experience I had yet to delight in. I wish I knew more about what was going on, in addition to public drunkeness!

Isla del Sol

The following day, I took at 8:30 am boat to nearby Isla del Sol. The chilly ride lasted an hour and a half, because we were creeping along at a speed I felt I could have outswam. However, as usual, the sites along the way were beautiful, so I didn't mind the slow journey.

We arrived on the shores of Isla del Sol at the Escalera y Fuente del Inca, or the Inca Staircase and Fountain, a series of Inca stonework directing a natural spring through a series of water gardens. The fountain is still a main water source for the islanders, and I saw many people filling up huge jugs at the fountain. On my way out the next day, I saw a boy coming up the hill leading a donkey and a llama weighed down with water jugs.

Life on Isla del Sol is simple, pastoral...I felt myself immediately gone back in time. There are no cars or roads on the island, and no logical city plans, so the result is a maze of dirt paths and cluttered houses and pastures and gardens guarded by rock walls. I climbed halfway up the hill to the town of Yumani, then for some reason felt compelled to continue northward for 40 more minutes of exploration. Along the way, I saw many different kinds of farm animals, and Bolivians herding sheep, donkeys and llama or tending their plots of land. Almost the entire area surrounding Yumani is terraced, which, in contrast to the deep blue of the lake and the distant Andes peaks, made for more spectacular scenery.

Looking towards the Escalera and Fuente.
The Andes in the distance.

Isla del Sol terracing.

Farm animals!

This is the greatest donkey I ever met.

My stomach soon led me to abandon my wanderings in search of lodging and sustenance. Returning toward Yumani, I began to ascend again, puffing and sweating. I was heading towards a promising looking hostel, when I encountered a young boy who tried to persuade me to come to his family's hostel. Since I really didn't have any plans, I impulsively decided to follow the kid, and ended up trailing him to the top of the hill. I ended up being really glad I did, because the view from the top of the ridge was incredible. You could see down both sides of the island. I dumped my stuff in the room and went out for another simple trout lunch.

The view to the west of my hostel.

After lunch, I set out walking again to the nearby ruins of the Inca palace of Pilko Kaina. Isla del Sol is important to many of the pre-Colombian indigenous groups, including the Inca, as the site of their creation myth. According to legend, the sun was born on the island, and the sun's wife, the moon, was born on nearby Isla de la Luna. When you see the beauty of these places in person, the legends almost seem plausible. The walk was pleasant and I was given further opportunity to appreciate the beauty of the island. The palace itself was really cool. The Inca were masters of trapezoidal architecture, so their doors, windows, and walls slightly slant upward. I really enjoyed exploring the palace, which was deserted, and marveling at the antiquity of the structure I was standing in. Most of the doorways were really small, and I had to stoop and sometimes nearly crawl to get into some of the rooms.

My path to the ruins.

The site as seen from my retreat.

After all my hiking around the island, I was exhausted, and decided to go to bed early with the intention of getting up early the next day to hike three hours to the north of the island to view a more extensive ruins site. Unfortunately, in the middle of the night, I suffered an incredible low bloodsugar, which resulted in me devouring a package of crackers. This ended up being a fatal incident, since I spilled cracker crumbs all over the floor. I awoke later to an unsettling rustle, turned on my flashlight and found myself looking into the beady eyes of a very frightened mouse. It scurried under the door, and that was the end of my good night's sleep. In addition, I woke up with a very high bloodsugar, crabby and feeling a little hung over and dehydrated from the high. That put an abrupt end to my plans for hiking to the north. I could have taken a boat, but after my skirmish with the mouse, I was kind of over Isla del Sol and ready to head back to Copa. There were still more sites to see there, and I figured I would see enough ruins in Peru that I could deal without the sites awaiting me in the north. On the boat back, I sat with an American couple (Americans are rare in Bolivia!) probably about 5-10 years younger than my parents, and we talked the whole way. They ended up treating me to breakfast! A nice breakfast at a nice hotel. This fueled me a bit for my final day in Copa.

Walking to the docks.

Saying goodbye to the Fuente del Inca.

Lake Titicaca--Part I

Saturday morning I was off to Lake Titicaca, to a cute little town called Copacabana. The drive was beautiful, across the Altiplano (high plain) of Bolivia and along the shores of the lake. Most of the hills around the lake are terraced, meaning built up in sort of stair steps to make farm land. The site of the green hills, rock terracing, and little farm plots was gorgeous.

At one point, we had to ferry across the lake. The passengers rode small boats like this one, and the buses and cars floated across on rickety barges.
My time in Copa was pretty relaxed. I spent a lot of time sitting in cafes, and I ate a lot of trout, my favorite fish. My favorite dishes were the stuffed trout (stuffed with bacon and a pesto-like paste) and trout covered in coconut curry. I definitely had my favorite restaurant by the time I left Copa, and the patron grew to know me. He was always blasting Cat Stevens and James Taylor, and he appreciated my love of the music from that era.

Toward the end of my first day, I hiked to the top of Cerro Cavalario, a hill overlooking both the town and the lake. On the way up, you pass the 14 stations of the cross, and on the top, there is a huge row of religious statues of crosses and also places to light candles and stuff like that. It being Bolivia, it was also covered with stalls selling junky tourist crap. That kind of irritated me.

I almost died hiking up to the top. The way was paved "Inca-style," meaning stones were fit together somewhat irregulraly. My bum ankle was bothering me, so I had to be careful along the way. Also, I was repeatedly put to shame by cholas hunkered down with bundles and children, and children themselves, speeding past me along the trail. Especially at the high altitude, I was huffing and puffing the entire way.

The views down to Copa were spectacular.

Everybody loves religious relics.

A chola and her man lighting candles.

Lake Titicaca.

Sun down across the lake.

I had almost decided to be lazy and not make the hike to the top of the Cerro, but I ended up being pretty glad I did. I made quite a spectacle, because I didn't bring a hat and my ears were killing me in the cold, so I tied my sweater turban-style around my head. That's one of the things I love about traveling. There is so much freedom to be weird, because generally you will never see any of the people you encounter ever again, so you are not held hostage by their judgement. I really like it.

After I descended, I went to the shores to watch the stars come out.

Again the weariness of my busy day set in, and since I had to be up early the next morning to take a boat to Isla del Sol, it was another early night.

Tihuanaco--The First Major Ruins Site I Visited

At some point during my third day in La Paz, I grew weary of being a tourist, and now, over a week later, I am sorry to say that my weariness hasn't really faded. It is quite difficult to be in a constant state of euphoria and exploration, and yet because I have such little time in such magical places, I feel guilty for taking relaxation days. I feel like I am already missing so much, and so I should always be busy looking and learning.

So, this was my state of mind when I visited the Tihuanaco ruins, a large and interesting site inbetween La Paz and Lake Titicaca. The site is beautiful, although it has been plundered for so many years that very little remains and much of what remains has been extensively reconstructed. The focal point is this huge mound of dusty earth, which used to be a seven-tiered pyramid, but starting with the Spaniards, the blocks were taken to construct homes and churches during the conquest. Most of the archeological treasures from the site were removed in the same manner, but in that way, Tihuanaco is a good lesson in the importance of preservation and appreciation of the past.

Because I was kind of over being a tourist, combined with the fact that I ended up in a Spanish-only tour group, and that group was huge, I didn't really focus on the information and more just enjoyed the feeling of soaking up history while we walked around the ruins. It is getting increasingly hard to focus on informative tours. I figure I am going to read a book on Tihuanaco when I get home, which for me will probably be a better way of learning about the site.

So, mostly what remains of the day I spent on the tour is some pretty cool pictures!

A view from some of the other structures on the site from the top of what remains of the pyramid.
The reconstructed walls of Tihuanaco are beautiful, with all the different stone blocks used in reconstruction.

Inside one of the ceremonial centers are over 100 carved human heads, which makes for a chilling site.

Inside the pit of heads are three monoliths, which are pretty cool-looking.

This is apparently a real human skull. When you tap on it, it makes a hollow sound.

The Door of the Sun, which served as a calendar.

The tragic remains of the pyramid.

The rock with the hole in it was used to magnify voices, like a bull horn.

Another famous door which provided entrance to the site.

One of the few remaining monoliths.

This was a nearby site called Puma Pukara, or the Temple of the Puma. It was some sort of ceremonial site. Apparently, Lake Titicaca was higher during the reign of the Tihuanaco culture, and this site was on the shores.

It was a cool day, even taking into account my half-assed attempts at tourism!