Wanderings and Wonderings

The Library of Congress: A Renaissance Surprise

2011-08-09T17:08:00.000-07:00

Let me just say, I loved the Library of Congress. The tour I took was fantastic. Rather than a young tour guide who was dead in the eyes, had no inflection in her voice, and clearly hated her job, I spent an hour at the Library with a jolly, delightful and informative older woman who was so eager to tell us every little tidbit she knew about what we were seeing that our tour was in danger of running longer than the allotted hour.

From the outside, the Library of Congress is by no means overwhelming in its stateliness...
But inside, it is pure Renaissance splendor!

Every angle was a treat to behold.

Looking up to the second floor from the first floor.

The grand and colorful ceiling.

The missioin of the Library of Congress is, basically, to preseve everything. Books, periodicals, doctoral dissertations; publishers are mandated to send the Library two copies of everything they print. There is so much material the library actually consists of three buildings and other storage areas around the city. The grand reading room (no photography allowed) is gorgeous. Almost everywhere you turn there is a statue with a special meaning. In the dome above the reading room are a bunch of different statues that represent the different arts and sciences: philosophy, history, etc. We were also shown one of the first books printed on the Gutenberg printing press. I was stunned by the interiors of the building. The outer structures don't prepare you for the grandiosity and vivid color inside.

Probably my favorite part was the special exhibitions on the second floor. The first one I saw was the Exploring the Americas exhibit, which is perhaps my favorite period in history. The exhibit displayed many early maps of the Americas, emerging European-American towns and ancient cities like Cuzco and the Aztec capital in current Mexico city. Old maps are one of my favorite things to look at. I love everything about them: how their coastlines seem familiar but misshapen, the strange creatures drawn in deep waters, the ancient writing, the contrasting colors of land and water. The exhibit also revealed artifacts from the time, some taken from the indigenous people and some belonging to the settlers. My favorite artifacts were the old books, some of which explained the flora and fauna of the new, strange lands. Other books were histories of exploration or informative works of political and military conquest sent back to the Spanish Crown. Many contained brightly-colored drawings.

I spent nearly too long in this exhibit and had to rush through the other exhibit I was especially interested in seeing, which was photographs of Civil War soldiers. Why didn't anyone smile in photographs back then? It's quite fitting, I suppose, the grim stares before going off to war. I was haunted by how young many of the soldiers were; far younger than me. I left the Library of Congress inspired to read more works of history from both the Age of Exploration and the Civil War.

Touring the Capitol Building

2011-08-09T17:02:00.001-07:00

I continued my beautiful walk purposefully to the Capitol.

After waiting in a series of lines (security line to enter the Visitor Center, which is underneath the flat expanse of concrete in front of the Capitol Building, a line to pick up my ticket, and then a line to go on the tour). The tour itself was a little disappointing in that you are shuttled between several points of interest inside the building without much historical context or interesting annecdotes. There are multiple tours happening at the same time and groups are nesteled into every space possible, crossing in front of your camera angles and making noise. I knew I was in trouble when I found out 15 minutes of my tour would be spent watching a historical video. It was informative, but I was hoping for more time inside. Incidentally, I think I took a similar tour when I was here a decade ago with the diabetic teen lobbying group I was a part of. When I got inside the dome, I remembered being up there with my dear friend Andrea.

A replica of the Statue of Freedom that sits atop the Capitol Dome. It was cast from the mold that formed her and currently resides in the Visitors Center.

First we went into some sort of basement room called the Crypt, I think because the original plan was to burry people there? I can't really remember.

The dome is really gorgeous, and its splendor is difficult to capture on film.

Huge paintings adorn the walls inside the dome. This one is of Pocahontas being baptized so she could marry John Rolfe.

Then we went into the original Senate chamber. As the United States grew and added more states and senators, the Senate was moved. We saw the place where John Quincy Adams' desk and chair were, commemorated by a plaque.

Another view of the original Senate chamber. You can see many of the 100 different statues that are on display throughout the building. Each state has two. I never found either of Washington's.

Being inside the Capitol Building was cool, but I definitely wanted a little more. I guess not every touristic experience can be stirring.

I hurried out of the building and crossed the street to the Library of Congress so I could make a 10:30 tour over there.

Another view of the dome on my way across the street.

Early Saturday Morning at Union Station

2011-08-09T16:58:00.000-07:00

The week Chris left town, I realized that my time in DC was about halfway done and if I wanted to see everything that was left on my "To Do" list, I would have to be strategic. My frist step in strategic sight-seeing planning was to make a reservation for a tour of the Capitol Building. For 9:10 on a Saturday morning! As it turns out, I tend to wake up at 6:30 or 7 without even trying on the weekends, so in the extra time I had, I decided to go to Union Station, check it out, then walk over to the Capitol Building.

I had accidentally gone to Union Station once before when I wasn't paying attention on the Metro and missed my stop, but I stayed underground and missed all the grandiose architecture. Since I was there so early on a Saturday, all of the shops and stands inside the station were closed. I also met a down-on-his-luck character who saw me taking pictures and offered to take my picture; my instincts told me he was going to steal my camera so I politely thanked him and walked away. I am glad I got to see the station on such a beautiful Saturday morning! Sometimes, there is nothing more enlivening than being up early on a beautiful day. I couldn't resist taking a bunch of pictures when the sky looked like it did!

Inside the ceilings were stately white and gold.

I never tire of taking pictures of American flags against the beautiful DC skies.

Christopher Columbus statue.

Looking toward the Columbus statue with Union Station in the background.

Then, it was on to the Capitol Building!

American Modern Art, in All its Glory!

2011-08-09T16:50:00.000-07:00

The National Museum of American Art and the National Portrait Gallery are housed in a building in Chinatown that is just a quick metro ride from my office, so I've spent a couple evenings after work browsing their collections.

The collections seem a little schitzophrenic because they have some amazing modern art and then some incredibly dull portraits of historical folks. The portraits are detailed with dense historical panels and in order to maintain my sanity, I gave up on reading all of them fairly early on in my visit. I began reading random panels and let go of the fact that it would not be possible for me to learn every single fact that was available to me. Sometimes it's hard for me to do that.

I really like the building's interior. Check out that floor tile!The top floor had some random but more contemporary portraits and this is a Warhol of MJ!

I love her.

Lovely ceiling.

So, the reason I love the American Art Gallery is their awesome, AWESOME modern art collection! My first experience of the collection was sitting in this dark room with a piece of abstract art covering the floor and the wall in front of me. Over something like 10 minutes, some installed lights moved and changed color in different paterns, in effect basically bringing the painting to life. At different stages, it seemed to depict fields of verdant pastureland, the fiery depths of hell, the tranquility and shades of the ocean and clouds...the experience was magical! From there, I wandered from room to room and reveled in the work. There was a display of George Ault's paintings, and the exhibit referred to him as a "poet of empty spaces." I liked that. His paintings are often of spaces like a barn at night lit by the moon or a single street lamp, or the beach, and rarely are there people in his paintings. He uses the most vivd colors and contrasts so that even the emptiness feels vital and alive, almost crackling with urgency. I really loved that exhibit; unfortuantely, I couldn't take pictures of my favorites of his work because the museum doesn't own any of it.

Here are a few of my favorites that they did own:

This one was so awesome. Each state was filled with small tvs playing videos of images and media that reminded the artist of that state; for example, a clip of the Wizard of Oz was playing in Kansas. (Alaska and Hawaii were on the opposite wall and impossible to fit in my frame.)

The galleries are located in Chinatown; here is the friendship arch.

According to Georgia O'Keeffe, "One can't paint New York as it is, but rather as it is felt."

Even the courtyard is modern and awesome!

You Know It's Too Hot When the Ducks Start to Pant

2011-07-25T18:44:00.001-07:00

Chris and I very slowly made our way to the Capitol so he could get a good look at it. The brain damange inflicted on me by the sun that weekend is making it difficult to recall details about this adventure but at least we got some good pictures!
Chris and the Capitol.

These ducklings were hiding from the sun in the shadow cast by their mother. The mom kept getting annoyed and moving and then they would practically dive under her belly again. There were four other ducklings laid out next to these ones and one was actually panting. I have never seen ducks pant before but this sighting confirms that not all birds are intelligent.

The Capitol Building is impressive from every angle.

Here I am with a couple other people ruining my picture.

Chris and I eventually gave up on being tourists and did what we do best: find the bars! After a snaffu with the Red Line Metro, which was under construction and caused a lengthy delay (our destination was only two stops away but I refused to walk any farther), we found Thai food in Dupont Circle. We then found a delightful little sports bar and finally a gay club (it was karaoke night). I was in a delightful mood thanks to the two glasses of wine I'd had with my curry and in the mood to be festive, and I also felt like I should make it up to Chris for being such a crabby bitch the night before and basically refusing to leave the house. We met some very nice men and had some giggles and sang along to some karaoke numbers which were heavy on the Amy Winehouse selections. I was happy to end the last night of our weekend together on such a high note.

Museum Fatigue

2011-07-25T18:37:00.000-07:00

Sunday morning, I left Chris at my apartment to do some writing and made plans to meet up in the afternoon on the Mall. I spent the morning in a couple museums, starting with the National Archives. I was still a little tired from our travels the day before, so I went straight for the gold: the Constitution, the Bill of Rights and the Declaration of Independence. The documents are really faded in places, but on the declaration, you can definitely see the familiar names, John Hancock (obviously), John Adams (a personal fave), TJ, Benny Franklin, etc. I'm glad I got to take a peep at them and read some of the familiar lines from the actual text. I wouldl like to say I felt reverent as I observed some of the most important political documents in the world, but it's not true. I feel that by now I am a little desensitized because it seems like every part of this city is tinged with the past.

Next, I went to the National Gallery of Art and looked at mostly old (and I mean old) religious paintings. I can only take so much of that before I get bored, but it was also kind of neat because I was reading a historical fiction novel about Greenland set in the end of the 14th and beginning of the 15th century. The Gallery features many European works of art from this period, so it lent a bit of visual context to the fascinating book I've immersed myself in (Jane Smiley's The Greenlanders if you're curious).

I did find some amusements; my favorite was a ghastly little painting by Bosch of skeleton-creatures peering at a (dead, I assume) man laid out on a bed. I guess I prefer modern art, but there were a lot of lovely portraits, many painted by all those famous Europeans. I can remember Hillary's mom coming to our 5th grade class as an art docent and teaching us about them all so it was cool to see them in real life. I prefer portraits of women because they're prettier, but I also like to play a game with the portraits of men: I imagine seeing the man in real life today and deciding if I would find him attractive.

Art:

There are a lot of sculptures in this museum.

After I burnt out at the museum, I sat out by the fountain in the sculpture garden next door and got a bit of a sunburn waiting for Chris.

Fountain with the National Archives in the background.

There is a ledge in the fountain so you can dangle your feet and cool off, which would be brilliant if you weren't sitting on a slab of granite has been baking in the sun all day and that must be about 120 degrees. It would also be very peaceful except there is a man who blows a very obnoxious whistle whenever anyone tries to wade in the fountain, which happens frequently because tourists are oblivious to signs and rules.

When Chris arrived, we lounged for about an hour more then wandered over to the Museum of Natural History, which I was looking forward to until the minute I stepped in and found it swarming with children and families. I am not sure what I was expecting, but it was crazier than the Air and Space Museum (or at least I was crankier and more tired). I couldn't even enter the dinosuar exhibit, normally my favorite, because of the mob and the chaos, so I parted ways with Chris and went to the deep sea exhibit and somehow spent two hours there learning about sea life. It was less crowded, but not by much.

I learned some neat things: there was a preserved giant squid on display (giant squids always remind me of reading Michael Criton's book Sphere in the 6th grade and how terrified I was): panels taught me how whales evolved first from water to land and then back to water, alligator and crocodile skelentons dangled menacingly from the ceiling, and there were videos of octopus camoflauging themselves and deep sea critters displaying their bioluninescence. I definitely missed all the other exhibits, but hopefully I can go back before I leave this city.

A scary fish fossil that is certain to give a few children (and this blogger) nightmares.

This fish is cool because scientists thought it went extinct with the dinosaurs until someone discovered one off the coast of South Africa in the 90s. Since then, another of the same species was found in Indonesia. COOL!

This is a replica but a very pretty one.

Great white jaws; I waited very patiently to take this photo while a mother took about 80 pictures of her little boy in front of this display. He was hamming it up and the mom wanted him to "give her a nice smile."

So, the greatest part of my day (sorry, art, science, and the talented curators at the Smithsonians) was when I discovered the ice cream stand in the basement of the museum. I don't actually love ice cream, and I rarely keep some in my freezer, but I like to have it as a treat sometimes when I'm out, and I was so exhausted at this point I needed a snack. I almost cried when I discovered the cafeteria was closed, but this tiny little ice cream stand probably saved my life (as well as the lives of some innocent bystanders). I ordered a scoop of peanut butter ice cream with fudge ribbons and chunks of peanut butter cups embedded in the ice cream and as the first bite began to refresh and revive me, I immediately wished I had gotten two scoops. The consumption of such decadence put me into some sort of stupor, and I remained at the table staring at my shoes until Chris phoned and suggested we move on.

In front of the museum, there is a petrified tree on display that is over 200 million years old and comes from the petrified forest in Arizona. I must go there.

Memorial Photoshoot Part IV: FDR and the sunset with TJ

2011-07-25T18:28:00.000-07:00

Something happened to Chris and me after Korea; we came absolutely alive! Part of it was that it was starting to cool off a bit and part of it was the rejuvenation from our rest, but I think it was mostly how photographable everything is at and around the FDR memorial. Like Korea, it looks really cool at night, but I had more fun visiting FDR during the day...especially with Chris there to screw around with. We definitely took some silly pictures...there may even be a shot of one of us sitting on the poor man's lap! If it seems disrespectful in any way, I apologize.

The lack of a proper breeze which would have made the day much more pleasant made for some lovely pictures of the W. Monument from the Tidal Basin!

Silliness!

Standing in the bread line.

About this time, I started to have so much fun! I forgot how great it is to share travels with someone and to have a good friend nearby for new experiences. Sometimes, I am so used to doing so much by myself that I forget how awesome it is to have someone you love around to do stuff with. Chris helped me remember.

Profile shot of TJ!

Another pretty sunset from a memorial.

This memorial makes me want to visit Monticello.

We were tired again and had to rest here for a long time, so I have a lot of sunset pictures.

Getting all the way back to my apartment from the Jefferson Memorial was an amazing struggle. I was so wiped out and miserable and dirty. We got home after 9 and I know Chris was hoping I would be inspired to pull it together and go out, but I just couldn't. I hate disappointing him, but I really can't push myself like that anymore, to go all day and then also go out drinking two nights in a row. Chris and I are so opposite in that he's a night owl and I am an early bird, and that dynamic was a frequent challenge for us. Overall, though, I think we both enjoyed ourselves and considered our Saturday a success.

Memorial Photoshoot Part III: Lincoln and Korea

2011-07-25T18:23:00.000-07:00

We did not spend much time inside the Lincoln Memorial, because it was like a damn oven. Chris helped me see it from an entirely new angle, which led to some pictures from Lincoln's left-hand side. We spent about as much time as we could inside, then got the hell out of there and headed over to a refreshment stand, where we literally crashed out for what felt like forever; real time, half an hour. We drank water and I ate a snack and I met an Iraq vet who was complaining about how hot it was. Apparently, in Iraq the heat is so dry he doesn't really sweat, but he told me his skin gets the powdery salt of dry sweat on it. Moments later, I ran my hand through my hair and it got white powder all over it...the sweat had dried in my hair and come out as salt! This has got to be the grossest weather I have ever been in!

After refueling and resting, we visited the Korean War Veterans Memorial, which photographs better during the day but is better to experience at night.

Contemplating the wall.

I wish that damn picture-taking guy was not in the way! Does anyone know how to photoshop?

"Freedom is not free."

Memorial Photoshoot Part II: Vietnam

2011-07-25T18:18:00.001-07:00

I had not yet been to the Vietnam War Memorial, and it was fun to see something new with Chris. The memorial wall is something of a masterpiece. It lists the names of the soldiers who died in the War, and it starts low to the ground and grows to a zenith, representing the growth and peak of the number of casualties. The wall is a beautiful reflective black with the names in white, and works as a mirror to reflect muted images of the vistors.

Stunning with the ghost of the Washington Monument reflected by the panel that makes up one half of the peak.

I love the colors of this statue; in unrelated news, the soldier in the middle reminds me of Christopher Walken.

Memorial Photo Shoot Part I: WWII

2011-07-25T18:14:00.000-07:00

The presence of water and trees was encouraging, although to be honest it didn't feel any less like 117 degrees, which was the "feels like" temperature forecast with humidity factored in, at the WWII Memorial than it did at the White House. This did not stop us from taking goofy pictures every chance we could. The great part about traveling with a friend, especially a friend like Chris, who I have no shame in front of, is that you can get all those pictures you've been dying to take but have been too ashamed to ask a stranger to take of you!

I love the fountain and the majesty of the WWII Memorial. It's quite a tribute to the war.

Each star represents 100 soldiers who died in combat.

This is the only pose and distance that hid how much I was sweating!

Celebrating my homeland.

Mama and Papa reunite on the East Coast!

2011-07-25T18:08:00.000-07:00

My dear friend Chris, my Papashu, rolled into town from New York on Friday evening. I met him on U Street and we walked to my place, unloaded his business, and then set off to 8th street in my old neighborhood for dinner. We ended up at a Belgian cafe, which was pricey but delicious, and I ate some sort of scallop and rockfish dish covered in unusual gravy and after agonizing deliberation over Belgian frites, Chris had the flank steak. There were something like 150 beers there. Everyone complains about the lack of great beer in DC, but they clearly haven't been to the Belgian Cafe! I had some sort of crisp, fruity white beer and it was precisely what I wanted on such a hot, sticky Friday night. After a long catch-up session, we decided to head to Adam's Morgan to bar hop. In actuality, we found this offbeat little bar called Pharmacy and settled in for the evening. Adams Morgan is a great place for people watching, and we watched the young, hip, and drunk stumble past our pleasant window seat.

On Saturday, we had to wait for Chris to finish his work before we went exploring. Unfortunately, since he writes for a music blog and Amy Winehouse had just died, that wasn't until 3:00, at which time the temperature was blasting past 100 degrees. Did it seem like a good idea to go to the memorials in the heat? No. Did we do it anyway? Yes!

We exited the metro at the Navy Memorial, which is next to the National Archives. I had never paid much attention to it, but Chris had to take a moment to eat a snack, so I wandered around and found it to be a quietly poignant memorial.

Part of the memorial with the National Archives in the background.

These sculptured panels were gorgeous and depicted various aspects of the Navy life and history.

We struggled down the Mall toward the memorials and made slow progress due to the heat and a quick stop at the American History museum for air conditioning and a restroom. Our first destination was the Washington Monument, and then the White House! I was incredibly pleased with the situation at the White House, because whereas when I was there last week it was fenced off, on Saturday we were able to walk right up to the gate. Unfortunately, there was little shade and our revelry was short-lived.

Papashu on the Mall!

"The Castle."

This is a neat statue in front of the American History Museum.

Much closer this time!

This photo was some sort of cuteness miracle, because I did NOT look that good in real life.

After this picture, we were both on the verge of what felt like heatstroke, so we got some extra water and tried to stay in the shade as we made our way to the World War II Memorial.

D.C. United v. the New England Revolution

2011-07-23T07:48:00.001-07:00

Since my Seattle Sounders were facing soccer legends Manchester United on Wednesday, I decided I shouldn't be left out of soccer fun just because I was across the country. I got a ticket to see D.C. United face off against the New England Revolution. The stadium was a few blocks from the place I stayed during my first week in the city, so it was kind of fun to revisit my old 'hood.

A billboard in front of the stadium.

Robert F. Kennedy Memeorial Stadium.

The view of the field from my seat.
Warming up in front of almost nobody.

Mascot!

United huddle in front of the supporters section.

Kickoff.

The play was rather lackluster. I think the weather must have had something to do with it. The United goalie had a couple of cool saves, and there were a couple of runs on the Revolution's goal, but the passing was pretty sloppy. Still, I was happy to be at a soccer match!

The Revolution take a corner kick.

There was actually an amazing halftime show, on account of Armed Services Appreciation Night. There was some sort of military drill team, and they performed a series of tricks with their bayonets for about 15 minutes. They tricks were intricate, visually stunning, and technically impressive! In some ways it was more exciting than the action on the field had been!

In the second half, a D.C. United defender tried to head a ball back to his goalie. I am not exactly sure of the circumstances, but the ball was poorly headed and the goalie had to dive to try to save the ball, but he couldn't and the Revolution ended up getting a corner kick, which they scored off of in the 72nd minute. After that, there were few opportunities for United to score, and the final was one-nil Revolution. All in all, not the most exciting match of my life, but it was really cool to experience MLS in a different stadium with two different teams, and as my dad said, enjoy a game for the love of the sport without having to be emotionally tied to the score. Indeed, father.

Georgetown

2011-07-18T19:17:00.001-07:00

By the time I finally got to Georgetown, I was exhausted, hot, cranky, and experiencing a low bloodsugar, so bear that in mind when I saw I did not like the area very much. I was overwhelmed by the crowd of young, spoiled girls slamming me in the legs with their shopping bags. I did, however, enjoy the C&O Canal and Towpath, which was a canal constructed in the 19th century to enable the flow of goods from Washington, D.C. to the American West, which at the time apparently started 185 miles away in Maryland. The canal is aided by a series of locks and boats were originally towed by horses, and now the trial is a fun way to stroll through Georgetown, and a little removed from the madness!

The canal and towpath with an old-timey boat.
A view of a Georgetown chapel as I walked along the path.

Although I stopped in Georgetown for sustenance, the sun and the immense amount of walking from earlier in the day and my memorial tour the night before were catching up with me. I somehow managed to find my way to Georgetown University's campus, which was not an easy thing to do since I approached it from the towpath and sort of enetered from the backside of the University, with the service vehicles. The campus, like much of D.C., seems in the midst of construction, so I struggled through a series of walkways and detours and finally found the heart of campus.

On the way, I discovered this lovely Jesuit cemetery.

A magnificent building on campus.

Healey Hall, complete with a magestic clock tower. I sat on a nearby bench under a tree for over an hour and reveled/rested.

My day ended at the apartment of my new friend Jenna, who lives about seven blocks north of campus. She had invited me and her boyfriend over for drinks on the roof of her building, which has a spectacular view of prettymuch all of D.C. We ate snacks, drank beer, ran our mouths, and enjoyed the lovely evening and the sunset. The weather was actually quite cool and comfortable in the evening.

D.C. from the roof.

The Potomac River.

The National Cathedral on the hill above Jenna's apartment.

Sunset.

My Walk to Georgetown

2011-07-18T18:54:00.000-07:00

Saturday I decided to stroll from my apartment to Georgetown and stop along the way if something caught my eye. In this fashion, I happened upon a museum in the former home of President Woodrow Wilson, his home for the three years he lived after the presidency. The house had been preserved with most of the original items on display, and a very enthusiastic and knowledgable guide led me and a few others on a tour of the house. I love old-timey artifacts, and there were so many to revel in here! It was a fascinating way to learn more about a man and his presidency by experiencing his home and being surrounded by his belongings. My fun historical fact of the day: Mrs. Wilson, who was the President's second wife, was a direct descendent of Pocahontas and John Rolfe!

The Wilson house.
The parlor and also the site of the President's funeral.

The President's study; behind the couch you may be able to make out the desk that he used at the White House.

A portrait of Mrs. Wilson dominates the dining room.

This bed is a replica Mrs. Wilson had made for her husband of the 7-foot Lincoln bed in the White House. This is the bed President Wilson died in.

Mrs. Wilson was a bit of a fashionista; this was one of her hats.

The lower set is Wilson's presidential china, and the upper set is a special set made as a gift depicting all the flags of the allied nations.

A marvelous old sink made out of zinc, a softer metal that would not chip dishes if you were careless with the china.

For some reason, this kitchen reminded me of my stepmom.

Wilson's back yard, where you can apparently get married!

After my tour of the Wilson house, I went nextdoor to the textile museum. Perhaps I was experiencing museum fatigue, or else I was comparing it to the textile museums I experienced in Bolivia, but I was underwhelmed. However, there were some lovely, ancient pieces and beautiful grounds.

Navajo weaving, which renewed my desire to visit the Southwest.

The back gardens of the Textile Museum, where I found a small table to have a snack and talk to my dad and Glo on the phone.

It was a lovely day for a walk, and I enjoyed my stroll over to Georgetown.

Some sort of bison guarding the Q Street bridge into Georgetown.

Along the way, I discovered a clutter of unkempt tombstones that turned out to be an old Methodist burrying ground. Many of the tombstones were over a century old!

Friday Night with the Memorials, Part III

2011-07-18T18:48:00.001-07:00

As darkness set in, I wandered over to the Korean War Veterans memorial. It is quite a sight, with multiple statues of soldiers spread out through some brush. In the fading light, they appear as apparitions.

This is what happens when you don't use a flash as night falls on the Korean War Veterans Memorial.
Ghostly Korean War Veterans.

I continued my stroll to the FDR Memorial, which I had heard was really cool at night. It is comprised of a series of scenes from the man's life, with statues of bread lines during the Great Depression, to him sitting with his dog. These scenes alternate with some lovely fountains and waterfalls, all glowing green in the darkness. It was quite lovely.

FDR sitting in his chair.

The memorials are situated around an inlet of the Potomac River called the Tidal Basin. Along with the Reflecting Pool, much of the Tidal Basin and parts of the Jefferson Memorial are under construction. As a ranger at the Jefferson Memorial explained to me, the land surrounding the memorials is all fill, and over time it has settled unevenly. Parts of the Tidal Basin and the Jefferson Memorial are essentially sliding into the water, so some of the stimulus money has been put to work to anchor the sites down to the bedrock with pylons. A worthy project, but it made some of my pictures rather unsightly.

Looking at the Washington Monument from across the Tidal Basin as I walked to the Jefferson Memorial.

One of the amazing sights of my evening was watching the moon rise over the Jefferson Memorial as I approached in on the path around the Tidal Basin. It was so large and bright, and paired with the brightly-lit memorial, served as a beacon drawing me to my final destination for the evening.

The Jefferson Memorial is quite possibly my favorite one. Visiting it so late at night, I avoided the usual crowds and was pleased with the opportunity to sit on a bench inside the dome and quitely contemplate the man, his life, and his words. It is a regal structure, and one that instills the weight of history and this great, great man.

The Jefferson Memorial, with the stairs partially roped off due to the aforementioned construction.

T.J.!

I love the domed ceiling of the Jefferson Memorial, the magnitude of which is difficult to capture with a camera.

Friday Night with the Memorials, Part II

2011-07-18T18:36:00.000-07:00

The Lincoln Memorial is very stately, but unfortunately, there were too damn many people to give the great man the honor he deserved, so I basically took some pictures and fled the scene. I stationed myself on the back side of the memorial and sat against the pillars and enjoyed the [relative] peace of watching the sun fall over Virginia and the Potomac.

This picture was an accident, but I kind of like it.

Golden rays hit the back of the Lincoln Memorial.

I want to say that the mansion at the top of the hill above the bridge is a Lee mansion.

One of the things that cracks me up about being on the Mall is overhearing all the tourist families and the conversations they have when they are all clearly tired and overstimulated. For instance, a couple weeks ago I was on the Mall around 6 pm and I heard a wife hiss quite testily at her husband, "No, I am not going to eat a hot dog from a street vendor. I need a real meal!" These kinds of moments always make me smile.

I overheard another gem as I was waiting for the sun set. The bridge pictured above is guarded by lions, but there is a second fork of the bridge on the left (out of the shot) that is guarded by a different set of animals (I think moose?). A typical family with a mom, dad, and two sons that looked to be in middle school came up behind me, and the dad says to one of the sons, "Hmm, what do you think those animals are? Don't they look strange? What could they be?" The son turns to him, disdain dripping from his voice, and says, "They're dinosaurs, Dad." It was amazing. I remember being that age, and the moment was so perfectly illustrative of how you feel at that time. No matter how cool something is that you are experiencing, you certainly can't express it and even more certainly can't share it with a parent. I was chuckling about it for the rest of the evening!

Waiting for dusk.

The sun setting over Virginia.

Dusky.

I love the glow of the Lincoln Memorial at night begins to fall.

Magical.

Friday Night with the Memorials, Part I

2011-07-18T18:30:00.000-07:00

I was so ready to be done with work last week, so when 4:30 finally rolled around on Friday afternoon, I got the hell out of the office and headed down to the National Sculpture Garden for "Jazz in the Garden," which is a free event every Friday evening in the summer. The Smithsonian brings in different jazz artists each week, and I wanted to see this Cuban jazz group. It was very festive and crowded, and I hadn't brought a blanket to sit on the bark under the trees around the fountain like all the smart people who clearly had done this before, so I baked in the direct sunlight for an hour, which was about all I could handle. I then wandered past the Old Post Office building on my way to find a quick bite of dinner.

The Old Post Office builidng.

I decided to spend the evening checking out the memorials, and I especially wanted to watch the sun set from the Lincoln Memorial. On my way, I walked past the White House. Thanks to terrorism, you have to stand so far away it's nearly a joke. I put my camera on zoom and took a few pictures.

The Presidents live there!

There was a uniformed officer standing right next to me when I took this picture to deter anyone from walking closer along the chainlink fence.

I can never resist taking another picture (or two) of the Washington Monument, especially when the DC skies are so gorgeous!

The World War II Memorial is really pretty, with a huge fountain and pillars for all the US states. I didn't spend a ton of time here since I wanted to get down to Lincoln before I lost the daylight, but I plan to go back.

The airport is nearby and I kind of enjoyed the contrast of these stately historical monuments with modern aircraft.

The biggest disappointment of the trip has not been the weather, as I anticipated, but the fact that the Reflecting Pool has been drained and is all torn to shit. Apparently, the land the monuments are built on is fill, and the Reflecting Pool had shifted unevenly. I will be coming back someday to see it properly.

Construction as I look toward the Lincoln Memorial.

Historic African American DC

2011-07-18T18:11:00.000-07:00

The coolest thing about my neighborhood is that it is steeped in African American history. U Street corridor, which is four blocks south of my place, was in the past a vibrant community of civil rights leaders and famous folk like Duke Ellington, who grew up on T Street; Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald performed in the area. However, the exodus of the African American middle class to the suburbs that accompanied integration gutted U Street. It was prettymuch ripped apart by the race riots of 1968 and then became a ghetto. It remained an epicenter of drugs until the 90s, when the metro station and condo development began to change the area. Now, U Street is hoppin' on weekends, and has some cute botiques and a ton of Ethiopian food.

The subway stop I use most frequently on U Street is right next to the African American Civil War memorial.
The walls hold the names of African American Civil War soldiers.

My area of town is also known for its soul food restaurants. I decided to try a place just down the street for Sunday brunch. Their theme is Zora Neale Hurton, and the inside is a beautiful, rich space with brightly colored murals on the wall.

Restaurant artwork.

My meal was bacon jalapeno hash with steamed greens and poached eggs, AND LAVENDER LEMONADE!

"Sometimes I feel discriminated against, but it does not make me angry. It merely astonishes me. How can any deny themselves the pleasure of my company? It's beyond me."

My neighborhood, Columbia Heights, is actually known as the Latino neighborhood, but just east of my apartment is Howard University, the country's oldest tradionally African American college. Founded in 1867, the college has graduated such notables as Thurgood Marshall and Toni Morrison. After brunch, I walked over to the campus and poked around.

On my way, I discovered this neat little garden in what I assume are donated, repurposed bathtubs.

The undergraduate library.

I think this building was named after Frederick Douglass.

A reservior on the edge of campus.

Continuing my walk northeast, I encountered the ruins of a water filtration plant, which to my dismay were completely fenced in.

Ruins.

After what felt like a very long walk, I headed back to my neighborhood and along the way stopped to take a picture of St. Augustine Church, which is a Catholic chruch that has an African American gospel choir that performs at its 12:30 Sunday masses in Kenti clothing. The promised spectacle might just get me back to church!

St. Augustine.

A block from the church is a gorgeous park named after Malcom X. It was lively and full of people on Sunday! I have been very impressed with the quantity and quality of DC's green spaces.

Malcom X Park.

More Smithsonians

2011-07-18T18:10:00.000-07:00

I started the Saturday after the Fourth of July weekend ambitiously. At five to ten, I was lined up with about a hundred hyper children and their families waiting for the Air and Space Museum to open its doors. I have very little interest in aviation history, but I love learning about the planets and space. I started with the exhibit on the planets, but by the time I got through the matieral on our solar system's planets up to Mars, I was already experiencing museum fatigue. Partly it was the density of the material, partly the kiddos running through the exhibit and their parents loudly trying to explain concepts of space to small children, and certainly the noise from the multimedia exhibits. I got the hell out of there and resolved to come back armed with some classical music on my ipod.

Some neat space thing outside the museum.
It is pretty neat to see the planes and space ships hung from the museum rafters.

I sought refuge at the Hirshorn Gallery, which is about as kid-free as it gets on the Mall. It is devoted to modern art, and I happily wandered the circular floors and stumbled upon many fine discoveries, including a new favorite painting and some incredible sculptures, like an interesting sculpture by Picasso of a mom pushing a baby in a stroller constructed out of what appears to be scrap metal and giant bolts. Very cool. The building itself is very cool as well, with four floors that form a doughnut with a giant fountain in the middle. The surrounding grounds hold giant sculptures.

The Hirshorn Gallery.

A new favorite painting, Eleven A.M. by Edward Hopper.

The Folklife Festival was in its final weekend, so I left Hirshorn and listened to some more Colombian music performances, but my heart wasn't really in it. I was still edgy from the Air and Space chaos and so I ended up heading home about an hour later.

Happy Independence Day from Our Nation's Capital!

2011-07-10T18:56:00.000-07:00

It seemed like an excellent opportunity to celebrate the birth of our nation amidst the historic splendor of the Mall. Although Amy invited me to a BBQ at her house, I opted to fight the crowds and spend the day and evening on the National Mall, because really, when will I get an opportunity like this again? There were so many festivities, including a parade that started in the late morning, but I knew it would be a stretch to spend over ten hours down there, so I arrived around 2 pm and spent the afternoon experiencing the Folklife Festival performances. DC's Folklife centers around different themes each year, and 2011 was the year of Colombia, Rhythm and Blues, and PeaceCorps. It was an odd combination, but I spent most of my time in the Colombia section, as it made me nostalgic for my South American journey. There were some incredible performers, and the audience was filled with Latinos eager to dance cumbias and salsitas. I ate some delicious Columbian stewed chicken for dinner, and was irritated to find Folklife festivities dying down around 6 pm when fireworks wouldn't be for another three hours. I managed to entertain myself with people watching for a bit, but I was starting to get cranky so I ended up heading down to get a good spot at the firework-viewing area around 7.

Looking down the Mall toward the Folklife tents.
Columbian performers--they were very energetic and punctuated their music with clapping and a sort of stomp-dancing, and at one point two of the guitarists performed with each stumming the other's guitar (not a euphamism)!

Carnival music, which had more of an Afro beat, and was incredibly lively!

Crowded; looking toward the Capitol, where there was a huge concert that apparently featured Steven Martin on his banjo (not a euphamism)!

I managed to find a firework viewing spot directly behind the monument, and squeezed into some grass on the side of the road between two families with very busy little children. After a long time, a young girl sitting next to me who seemed to be in 8th or 9th grade asked me if I was here by myself, and we chatted about where I was from and where she was from. Although she was born here, her family is from Sierra Leon. I had heard them speaking creole but didn't know what language it was, and she was happy. The family was four girls, and they were a delight to sit with. At one point, it began to sprinkle and we huddled on their blanket under my umbrella. It was very communal and took the sting out of spending a holiday alone.

No matter how delightful my neighbors were, we chose the wrong spot to see fireworks. Having never been there before, I quickly found that the fireworks explode on the exact opposite side of the monument from where I was sitting. I gave up, though, on moving through the crowd in the dark, and enjoyed them from my original spot.

I sat on the edge of 14th street and as I waited 2 hours for it to get dark, I watched the road fill with people.

The fireworks really were a phenomenal sight! For about 15 minutes, the Washington Monument resembled a NASA spaceshuttle launch. I loved hearing the crowd gasp and ooh and aah. The highlights were the fireworks that exploded into shapes, like a heart. The finally was so explosively overwhelming, there were so many colorful sparkles lighting up the sky and so much smoke obscuring our view but I knew it was awesome.

Somewhat redundant pictures of the fireworks.

Yes, the crowds were terrible and it took me an hour to walk home on tired legs, but it was absolutely worth it. Usually, the Fourth of July feels like it's about family and fireworks and food and beer. Experiencing it from the Capital for the first time emphasized the history of what we were celebrating.

My New Home

2011-07-02T10:36:00.000-07:00

Saturday I moved into my permanent place, for the rest of summer at least, in the Columbia Heights neighborhood. This neighborhood is in Northeast D.C., to the west of Howard University, and is known as one of the up-and-coming neighborhoods. It is also east of the Latino neighborhood, which was obvious as I took my first eight-block walk to the grocery store over the weekend. My new apartment is about a 35 minute walk from my office in Dupont. An old friend from SU hooked me up with a friend of hers here whose roommate was moving to Boston. The girl, Rebecca, is also going to be gone for most of the summer until mid-August, so I will largely have this place to myself!

Some gorgeous old buildings on my walk from Dupont to my apartment in Columbia Heights.
My apartment building.

The school next to our building (whose mascot is the Clerks, which I love!); in the far distance you may be able to make out the Washington Monument on the left and the Capitol Building dome on the right.

My spartan bedroom.

The communal spaces.

Our little porch overlooking the courtyard; it would be very peaceful except for the constant din of everyone's air conditioners.

Softball Games at the Washington Monument

2011-07-02T10:33:00.001-07:00

On Wednesday, Amy invited me to watch her office's softball team play a game on the Mall. Unfortunatley, most of the green space was covered with tents being set up for the upcoming Folklife Festival, so most of the teams ended up squished in the grassy areas next to the Washington Monument. I didn't mind, since it gave me an opportunity to take some cool pictures of the Monument I had only seen at a distance until then.

Walking down the Mall toward the Washington Monument.
Sitting at the base of the Monument.

The rosy glow of late-evening sun on the Monument.

A self-portrait with the Monument.

An Orientation to My Work Environment

2011-07-02T10:25:00.000-07:00

For those of you who are curious, I wanted to show you where I work.

This is Farragut Square, which I pass through as I walk from the metro stop to my office.
The brown building is where I work, in the top floor atrium.

You might notice all the buildings are the same height. By ordinace, no building in certain areas of DC can be taller than the Washington Monument.

My desk!

Our offices are really pretty! These are the desks of the two writers I sit next to.

The Exploration Continues

2011-07-02T10:19:00.001-07:00

The Museum of the American Indian is next to the Botanical Gardens, so I decided to go in and enjoy the air conditioning and do some learning. I really enjoyed parts of the museum, especially the beadwork artifacts and the exhibit on the conquest. They had some spectacular swords and guns on display. I found the swords particularly chilling, and kept imagining someone coming at me with one and stabbing me to death. The mueseum also had some panels devoted to chronicling the diseases that destroyed the American Indian communities.

Swords and other artifacts.
Old-timey guns. Some were incredibly ornate.

A neat light trick listing the tribes of the Americas.

Next I wandered over to the sculpture garden, because I love a good sculpture park! I liked the Hirshorn Sculpture Garden more than the National Sculpture Garden. It has more traditional statues while the National Sculpture Garden is a bit more abstract.

Some shots of the Hirshorn Sculpture Graden.

This one was my favorite.

A view down the Mall as I crossed to the National Sculpture Garden.

We have one of these in Seattle!

By this time, my bloodsugar was low and I was exhausted. I spent about an hour just sitting at this fountain and on various nearby benches. It seemed like a huge undertaking to get back on the metro and go pick up Bella, but somehow I made it. I was so tired, though, that when I sat at the fountain, I sat in a giant puddle!

The Botanical Gardens

2011-07-02T10:11:00.000-07:00

The United States Botanical Gardners are next to the Capitol Building, so I decided to go there next. They have an amazing Conservatory whose rooms are devoted to different climates. I could have stayed here a lot longer than I did, and I am sure I will go back at some point.

The orchid room.

An amazing bougainvillea.

This was a Chinese hibiscus, I think.

I love cacti!

The grounds outside, where I sat on a bench and called my dad.

I also sat on this bench for a bit!

Where the Magic Happens

2011-07-02T10:04:00.000-07:00

So I have to admit, I got a little emotional when I saw the Capitol Building up close. When I was in D.C. over a decade ago, they were restoring the dome and there was ugly scaffolding around the top. However, I got the full monty this time around.

A fountain and the House of Representatives.

Looking toward the Senate.

A close-up of the Senate.

This is the side that faces the Mall.

One of the highlights of my day was when I was looking at these statues and red flowers behind the Capitol building. There was a couple next to me speaking Spanish, and I heard a distinct "po" at the end of one of the sentences, which is a distinct Chileanismo. They saw me looking at them and asked if I wanted them to take their picture. I asked them if they were Chilean and they said yes and we chatted briefly. These kinds of connections are one of the reasons I love to travel!

The doofy picture of me my Chilean friends took.

I don't remember what these statues were.

All roads lead to the Capitol Building

2011-07-02T09:51:00.000-07:00

My first weekend in D.C. brought lovely weather! The humidity was rather mild and there was a good breeze blowing. I decided to explore on Saturday. I dropped Bella off to get a haircut and decided to make my way toward the Capitol. Prettymuch the first street I came to, Pennsylvania Avenue, provided a direct path.

Looking down Pennsylvania Avenue toward my destination.
I like how this place is just packed with books, even covering all the windows!

On the way, I got some iced tea and a pastry and sat outdoors at a little cafe next to the Eastern Market, which, if you've been to Pike Place, is really not that big of a deal. Although the cafe was a nice place to relax, I was getting anxious to go do some real sight-seeing, so I didn't stay here very long.

The cafe with the tents of Eastern Market in the background.

Before checking out the Capitol Building, I decided to wander around outside the Supreme Court. It was just gorgeous and the weather made for some beautiful photos.

Here are some shots from my explorations of the Supreme Court building:

The Capitol Building as seen from the steps of the Supreme Court.

From One Washington and Capitol Hill to Another...

2011-07-02T09:41:00.000-07:00

Thurday morning, Amy left for the weekend, and I was left in charge of her animals (a shi-tzu named Bella and a kitty named Ruby) and home until she returned. Thursday was also the first day of my internship. I was a little nervous about getting there okay, but I somehow managed to choose all the right directions to walk and found the office pretty easily. From Amy's, I walk six blocks to a metro stop, take the metro eight stops into the city, then walk another five blocks to the office, which is located a block north of Farragut Square, in the Dupont Circle area.

I spent the day getting acquainted with the man who hired me. I also got to sit in on two editorial meetings, which was basically a lot of really smart people sitting around and talking about all the cool things that are happening around the country in state and local public administration. All in all, it was not a bad way to kick off the next two months! It seems like I will get exposed to a lot of cool ideas and innovations in public administration in this environment.

I was astonished to find that I was being given a desk in the corner of the atrium, surrounded by windows and the editorial staff. My boss wants me to be there to benefit from overhearing the writers' conversations. He seems pretty mindful of the fact that the internship is not with a public service agency, and he very intentionally is trying to make it as varied and interesting an experience for me.

After an exhausting day, I came home and was somehow still on West Coast time, which was fine because I got to watch the Sounders match on ESPN. It actually didn't feel like I was 3,000 miles away as I was chatting with my dad on the phone, watching the game, and texting with Brandon and Nachole! Sometimes I have to remind myself that I am in Washington, D.C., because it feels so normal that it is strange.

Here are some pictures of Amy's place and her neighborhood on the Hill:

Amy's place is the first floor of the row house on the right.
Her cute backyard.
The room I am staying in has a sliding door to the back porch.My quarters.

A view of the neighborhood from the front porch.

Row houses around our block.

Capitol Hill is a lovely neighborhood; I never get tired of looking at the row houses.

A neat mural on the side of a pharmacy.

The Only Way To Start a Summer in DC is with the Mariners!

2011-07-02T09:35:00.000-07:00

On Wednesday, June 22, 2011, I found myself boarding a plane to Washington, D.C. for an internship with a magazine that covers state and local government. Through a great amount of luck, I was able to arrange places to live through friends of friends, and an old friend from elementary school offered to pick me up at the Dulles airport. Despite the fact that I left Washington State in a mild panic and managed to forget some key items, I arrived in one piece and quickly began to melt in the humidity. Luckily, Kelly arrived to pick me up and blasted the air conditioning in her car. We had a long drive back to Arlington through some traffic, but it gave us an opportunity to catch up. It was really great to see her, since it had been about ten years since the last time I saw her as we were graduating from high school! As we were catching up, she mentioned she had just found a letter I had written her in sixth grade right after my parents had divorced. She promised to show it to me, and I am going to be really interested to read it since that time period is pretty fuzzy for me now.

Kelly is an incredibly thoughtful person, and because it was going to be senseless to try to drive me to where I was going to be staying for the rest of June in Capitol Hill, she dropped me off at the metro station in Arlington and gave me a metro card with five bucks on it so I wouldn't have to struggle trying to figure out how the system worked while loaded down with all my crap! What a doll! It felt like we still had so much to talk about, so hopefully we will be able to get together soon.

I exited the metro at Stadium Armory, and my new roommate, Amy, picked me up. She is quite a character! Very talkative and outgoing with lots of energy. We basically threw my stuff in her house and then hopped over to 8th Avenue to meet her friends for beer at The Ugly Mug and then hit the Nationals-Ms game. Amy works for FEMA and we met up with some of her coworkers and then went to the game.

From The Ugly Mug, we rode a shuttle (also known as a golf cart) about 15 blocks to the stadium. It seemed rather dangerous to be whizzing through traffic in such a fashion...

Golf cart escort.
Our approach to the stadium.

The game was actually kind of lame, because I was exhausted, it was so freaking humid, and both teams played a sloppy, lackluster game. There were a few highlights, though. First of all, we sat behind a group of high school students from Puerto Rico and chatted with them for a bit. Also, I don't remember which inning it is, but the presidents (Washington, Lincoln, Jefferson, and TR) race around the field. Apparently Lincoln always wins! It was a hoot!

The presidents race as a Mariner takes the field.

A ninja attacked Washington and he bit the dust.

Despite the humidity and the dull score, it was a beautiful evening!

Teddy Roosevelt led us in a cheer.

After a long day of traveling, I was pretty worthless at the game. I kind of sat in a stupor and ate some hotdogs (it was dollar hotdog night!). After the Ms lost 2-1, Amy and I left the stadium and tried to find a cab. The metro stations were mobbed with people and cabs were scarce, so we ended up walking back to her place, which seemed endless. However, on the way we passed the Capitol building and I got all riled up! Also of note, I saw my first cockroach on the walk...those suckers are fast! It was zipping around the pavement and I felt like it was coming to get me so I gave a little scream and tried to run away. Bugs are gross!

Sillustani

2009-04-07T12:05:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I have gotten a little behind in the blog updates, which is a damn shame because by now, after being back in the US for about a month, I will have forgotten many of the details that made my final weeks in South America so magical. However, we must proceed.

Mom and I spent our first full day in Puno wandering the streets in some sort of a.m. downpour. Luckily for us, the weather cleared up in the afternoon just in time for our trip out into the surrounding countryside to visit Sillustani, the site of some pre-Inca and Inca funerary towers. The weather, and the site, were beautiful; the hills were green, the sky blue and cloudy, and the towers popped up at odd intervals along the hillsides. We wandered around the site and appreciated the towers in all their states of destruction. The pre-Inca towers were basically piles of rock, and the Inca towers, of course, were masterful works of carefully carved and polished stones forming perfect cylinders.

Part of the site, seen at a distance.
One of the towers had been struck by lightning, and half of it had come crashing down. It was later discovered that the basalt rock used had metallic properties, which made it vulnerable to lightning strikes.

Here is the rubble from the accident with the lightening.

A small lake and some farmland, as seen from the top of the hill where many of the funerary towers still stand.
More remnants.
The best part of my day was when Mom asked the guide why the Inca towers were constructed with ridges near the tops. The guide told her the towers were phallic in nature, in keeping with the belief that the next realm of being was feminine and would descend to collect the souls of the dead. After the guide left, I looked at mom and said, "He basically just told you that the Incas wanted to ejaculate their souls into heaven!" We cracked up, because we love penis jokes!

You can see the phallic ridge in question in this close-up of the tower destroyed by lightening.

The larger basalt rocks were carved to cover an inner layer of smaller stones. In the rubble, you can see how precisely the stones were carved.

Looking out from the other side of the hill on a beautiful lake.

On our way back to Puno from the Sillustani site, our tour group stopped at a local farm to give us some insight into the way of life of the local people. I tend to hate this sort of activity because it makes zoo exhibits out of people's lives, and you don't get a true sense of the local culture in 30 minutes in a setting that has been prepared for your visit. Also, there tends to be a pressure to buy crafts to support the families. It exhausts me. Unfortunately, our options were to take tours to get to most places, and these sorts of events are quite popular with tourist groups. Also, this one won me over because on the farm they gave us tastes of cheese, potatos, and some sort of delicious sauce and really, food is the way to my heart. Also, we got to touch guanacos and alpacas, and they are so cute. The guanacos are huge close-up; I was kind of scared. The whole scene was pretty idyllic and the people were very kind about being put on display. I imagine the whole arrangement is pretty lucrative for them as well.

The main house on the property. People often put small statues of bulls and crosses on their roofs to bring prosperity to their marriages and lives.
More structures on the farm.
We returned to Puno for dinner, and our dinner was interrupted by a cacophany of noise in the form of a marching band and a huge parade of dancing Peruvians. The festival of the Virgin of Candelaria was still in full swing, and we stood on the edge of the parade and enjoyed the festivities.

Music and dancing!

Road Trip! Cusco to Puno

2009-03-16T16:32:00.000-07:00

Tired from my night of the town the night before, I was mildly checked-out for the 9 hour tour bus ride Mom and I took from Cusco to Puno, on the shores of Lake Titicaca. From this point forward in our trip, I left most of the picture-taking to my mom, which has resulted in me not having photos of some of our key moments along the way. However, I will do my best to tell the stories of our travels with what I have.

Our first stop was at a small but famous church about an hour outside of Cusco. It is known locally as the Sistine Chapel of Peru for its intricate artwork and altar. It was pretty phenomenal inside, although nothing could beat the cathedral we visited in the Plaza de Armas in Cusco, in my opinion. However, it did have an elaborately carved wooden pulpit, multiple paintings, and an altar and other details covered in gold.

Peru's Sistine Chapel.

Next we stopped at another site of some Inca ruins, called Raqchi. The site was a worship center for the Inca god Wiracocha. The most stunning remains of the site are some adobe walls that supported an entire temple. The surrounding site is filled with Inca rock walls and more adobe structures that were used as houses, and some round buildings that were store houses for food. This site was incredibly beautiful, surrounded by farm land, pasture land, a stream and irrigation channels, and hills topped with more Inca walls. The rock the Inca used in this area for their foundations was volvanic basalt. Please note: the funny little cap roofs of tile were constructed by the locals to protect the adobe walls from the weather.

Remains of the Wiracocha temple.

Mom and some Inca walls.

The storehouses.

Farmland.
An Inca water system.
Sheep!!!
The cute little church in Raqchi.
Next, our tour took us to the town of Sicuani for lunch, where the highlight was a baby alpaca that I got to pet! It was less than a month old and so, sooooo cute. It was white and had bright blue eyes and the softest wool. I prettymuch wanted a baby alpaca of my very own after chasing it around the yard for awhile. We ate a delicious buffet lunch where we sampled different Peruvian dishes and listened to some folkloric music. Then, we hopped back in the bus and made another quick stop and a pass that was the highest point of our adventure.

The highest point of our trip.
We made one more stop in the town of Pukara, the site of some pre-Colombian ruins that we did not visit. We did visit, however, an interesting little museum there that had some pre-Colombian statues and rock carvings. After a few more hours on the bus, we pulled into Puno and walked to our hostel, which ended up being an awesome little bed and breakfast called Kusillo's Posada. Mom was having a hard time with the altitude, so I ran out and brought back some dinner. We spent the night resting so we would be ready to explore Puno the next day.

Machu Picchu--Living the Dream

2009-03-16T15:57:00.000-07:00

How am I supposed to write about the fulfillment of a dream? I have a list of the places in the world I want to see before I die, and Machu Picchu was always my number one. I can now cross that off my list, although after being there once, I would like to go back. Since we arrived in the middle of Peru's rainy season, much of the ruins were shrouded in thick clouds for most of our day. And, of course, it poured on us, although the most ravaging downpour began at the very end of our tour. At the time, I was devastated that it never cleared up enough that we could see the surrounding mountains in all their majesty, but as the day progressed, I felt that the mysterious veil provided by the clouds was a rather fitting backdrop for the mysteries of the Inca Empire and their most famous city.

Mom and I reached the ruins sometime after 6 a.m., and had some time to wander the grounds before our guided tour at 8 a.m. Theoretically, at this hour of the day, there are less tourists and thus more opportunities to take photos unmolested by large groups of people. We still had to be creative with our camera angles, but I was pretty pleased with the results. And sometimes, you just have to say to hell with it and blast away with the photos in order to capture the scale of the ruins.

Machu Picchu really is everything you expect it to be, which is breath-taking, awe-inspiring, mysterious, beautiful. It is an architectural wonder. It is surrounded by wild mountains and jungle vegetation. The site is richly green. The stones are perfectly formed. Wandering the ruins in (relative) solitude, you can feel the weight of history as you marvel at the Inca's achievements. I wish I were an Inca. The Inca terracing, which we had seen in many other areas, was so beautiful at Machu Picchu, practically clinging to the slope of the mountain. The Incas apparently used the terracing to study the microclimates of each terrace and perfect their crops and farming techniques.

After wandering the site at our leisure, we took a guided tour with a darling and informative guide and were able to learn more about the secrets and marvels of Machu Picchu. I had not known that the site was actually a work in progress when construction was stopped due to the threat of the conquistadores. In places, there are huge piles of boulders that the Inca would shape and use for constructing their buildings. In one area, there was evidence of how the Inca cut the large stones. They would carve niches along natural cracks in the rocks, and then place beams of wood in the niches. Next, they would put water on the wood. As the wood expanded with the moisture, it would split open the rocks. While, standing by the guardhouse overlooking the site, it seemed impossible that a site like Machu Picchu could be built with relative speed, our guide informed us that Incas payed taxes through manual labor, and thus work forces of 20,000 could be mobilized at a time. We stood in the doorway to the site, where the official Inca Trail ended, and learned that the Inca had at one time over 55,000 kilometers of paved trail, stretching from northern Argentina up into Ecuador. We also learned more about their mummies, rituals involving sacrifices to the sun, and the importance of the condor in their worldview. At one place in the site is a ceremonial condor carved out of an existing boulder. Mummified bodies were place on its wings and offerings were made to its carved beak. Other places on the site contained rocks carved and angled to form compasses. We visited the top of a structure that served as an oratorical platform and witnessed the mastery of Inca acoustics, looking down on the field where spectators would stand to listen and where centuries later Che Guevara played a soccer match. Standing among the shadows of the past, Mom and I were mesmerized by the passage of time, the intricacy and achievements of a fallen empire, and our own utter insignificance.

Different views of the living quarters.

Mom is a conquistadora.

Inca walls and a pile of boulders awaiting construction.

From the base of the oratorical platform. The Inca terracing is in the distance.

Mom creeps around Machu Picchu.

Machu Picchu seems to cling to the steep slopes of the mountain.

The phenomenal terracing.
Machu Picchu as apparition.

The surrounding peaks.
The site, as seen during a miraculously clear moment.
I never tire of admiring Inca walls.
After our tour, we ate snacks and waited under a covered area, praying the downpour would stop. No such luck, and I decided to give up and return to Aguas Calientes. I think it was the right decision, since it poured until about 2 p.m., and we had to catch a train back to Cusco at 5. We ate a relaxed dinner and shopped for souvenirs until it was time to board. The train took forever (something like over four hours) and I was anxious to get back to Cusco for our last night because I had a date with a cute boy named Americo! We finally arrived, and Americo took me out dancing at a club where I was literally the only gringa. I was also the tallest person there. This is not an exaggeration; Peruvians are quite short. Due to my gringa-ness and my height, everyone stared at me the entire night, and I was not quite comfortable enough to make a proper show of my dancing abilities. Also, Americo liked to dance to salsa, which I hate, mostly because I can never find the beat and my body does not know how it is supposed to move. However, I was pleased to see the more local scene, since most of our experiences in Cusco were confined to the tourist quarters of the city and thus a little devoid of culture.

So yes, basically, you need to go to Cusco and Machu Picchu. I ended up wishing I hadn't wasted my first three days there being pissy and missing out on all the site-seeing, since Mom and I were unable to do and see it all. Fortunately, it gives me a good reason to go back! I want to try again during the much more popular dry season, which is more crowded but also promises clear skies!

Ollantaytambo--We Hit the Sacred Valley

2009-03-04T07:40:00.000-08:00

The first Monday of Mom's visit, we headed into the Sacred Valley. The plan was to hit the site at Ollantaytambo, then take the train into the jungle to Aguas Calientes, the small town near Machu Picchu. I was still feeling pretty tired, but a lunch and a d. coke rejuvenated me.

I think no matter how many ruins I see, I am always blown away when I set foot in a new site. Ollantaytambo was spectacular. First of all, it clings to the side of a hill and some cliffs, and underneath these imposing structures, a small, more modern town has grown. There are also some smaller additional sites on the other hills surrounding the village. What remains of the site is Inca terracing, some incredible Inca walls, and structural remains. We chose to wander the site at random and skip the informative tour, so I have no idea what the structures or the site were used for. However, it was awesome to wander leisurely at our own pace through the site. Also, there were about a million stairs to climb, so in that sense too, it was nice to take our time. Really, I don't have much else to say about Ollantaytambo; the pictures speak for themselves.

Approaching Ollantaytambo on our walk through the town.
The ruins.
A view of the town of Ollantaytambo and the Sacred Valley from atop the ruins.
More ruins and terracing.

Mom getting her Inca on.
Structural remains.
Inca doorway!
More sexy Inca stonework.
Ollantaytambo was so cool that for a brief moment I worried that I would like it better than Machu Picchu. As Mom and I discovered the next morning, however, that was not possible. The train to Aguas Calientes was spectacular, as well. In about two hours, we slowly chugged deeper into the Sacred Valley along a brown river with some wild rapids. The trip was marked by huge rock cliffs and peaks smoothed by rain and the creeping jungle. The closer we got to Aguas Calientes, the more verdant and dense the foliage became. It really was a jungle, which I couldn't believe after seeing the surrounding areas of Cusco and Ollantaytambo. But there it was, wet and dense and vine-ridden. We disembarked in the town and, in typical South American fashion, waited an hour for a promised train station pick-up that never arrived. After some minor setbacks, including the fact that no one I asked had heard of the hostel we were supposed to stay at, I went to an internet cafe and called them, and soon we were escorted up yet another hill to our digs. We enjoyed another fine trout dinner (I think the thing I miss the most about Peru, aside from the men, is the delicious trout that I ate almost every day there!), and then it was off to bed so we could get up bright and early (4:30 a.m.) to be on one of the first buses up the mountain to Machu Picchu!

Mom and I take on Cusco

2009-03-02T09:00:00.000-08:00

I was pretty excited the day of my mom's arrival, despite the fact that I had stayed out all night the night before and only gotten an hour of sleep. I raced to the airport and soon thereafter I was hugging my mommy! It was really awesome to see her after so long, but at the same time, it didn't really feel like I hadn't seen her in a year. She held it together really well, I was proud of her!

We spent the day running our mouths and eating delicious food and kind of walking around Cusco. We also signed up for a city tour for the next day, and got our plans all squared away for Machu Picchu! We drank some pisco sours, a mandatory activity if you are a tourist in Peru. I had planned to turn in early, but I was feeling restless so I ended up going out with a fabulous Australian couple while Mom recovered from her day of flying.

I definitely regretted this decision the next day, as we had a nearly all-day tour of points of interest in and around Cusco. I must admit, I was still not quite ready to be a tourist again, but Mom did her best to motivate me, and the knowledge that she had come so far to see and do fabulous things inspired me to pull through.

Along the way, we visited the cathedral on Cusco's plaza de armas, much of which was built from Inca stones pilfered from palaces that used to stand on the plaza, which was twice the size of what remains. We got to go inside the cathedral and view all sort of interesting objects, like the crucifix that was paraded around to stop an earthquake, gold and silver covered altars, that famous painting of The Last Supper where a ginuea pig is being served (some scholars think it's a chinchilla), and an amazingly carved wooden chior. Mom was in awe. I always feel the weight of my Catholic upbringing in places like that. It means a lot to a lot of people, and for that, in addition to its historical allure, made our visit to the cathedral fascinating.

Our next stop was Qorikancha (uff, who knows about the spelling on that one), which was once an Inca palace and also a place of worship to the sun and moon. We learned a lot of interesting things here as well; the story that sticks with me is that the Incas, as the gazed into the night sky, didn't see patterns of stars forming pictures as we do with our constellations. Instead, what stood out to them were the dark spaces between the stars, in which they saw images, much like seeing figures in the clouds. They could see a snake, a hunter, and a condor, among other images. We also learned about their world view, involving the prevalence of the number three and the condor, the puma, and the snake, which each represented a different realm of the afterlife, the present, and the underworld. All that remains at the site are some Inca walls and lots of stonework, because again, the conquistadores built over the palace. We also learned about the Inca style of building that utilized the architecturally sound trapezoid. In places, stones had been removed, but the structrues didn't collapse because the trapezoids support the weight of the whole. The Incas, by the way, didn't use cement. Their buildings are just stone on stone, and they are so perfectly fitted that most withstand earthquakes while colonial structures crumble. Freaking hot!

The colonial architecture built over the top of Qorikancha.
A series of trapezoidal windows.
The hills of Cusco as seen from a staircase at Qorikancha.
Inca stones, man.
More stones, more Cusco.

After, we went up the hill to the site called Saqsaywaman, another crazy Inca site. The site used to be huge, and what we saw was only 20% of the original, because the conquistadores carted away all the building material to build conquistadorey things. The site was pretty cool, though, even in its state of disrepair. Some of the stones were freaking huge! I can't really remember what this site was all about, but probably a ceremonial center. Apparently it used to have a huge tower! There is also a theory that the city of Cusco was originally constructed in the shape of a puma, and Saqsaywaman was the head of the puma. There are zigzag walls that could potentially be the teeth, and the tower could have been the eye. Mom and I walked through the site, and then to the edge of the hill to look into the valley filled with Cuzco's tiled roofs. Even in the midst of inclement weather, it was beautiful!

Saqsaywaman remains.
Zigzag wall.
Inca stonework is so sexy!
Cusco!
Mommy taking a picture!
Mommy being cute!
Cusco is rad.
After Saqsaywaman, we stopped at two more sites, one of which was a ceremonial cave and another of which was an Inca fountain that the Spaniards believed was the Fountain of Youth. Both very interesting. Apparently, the surrounding areas are still being excavated, and a few new sites have been discovered. For example, near Saqsaywaman they discovered remains of a reservoir. The whole day, I was in wonder of the Inca society and its architectural prowess. I mean, city planning anyone? I want my city to look like a puma from the air!

That night, mom and I ate a delicious dinner (I had the ceviche, a favorite dish of mine) and then prepared for Day Two, our trip into the Sacred Valley!

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

2009-02-06T18:05:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-06T11:52:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-06T11:42:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-06T11:33:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-06T11:09:00.000-08:00

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!

La Paz--Part II (the love continues)

2009-02-06T10:46:00.000-08:00

My second day in La Paz, I nearly walked myself to death. La Paz is a tricky city to be a pedestrain in, because of its hills and elevation. I could never catch my breath. Also, one of my favorite things about La Paz is it is a cacophony of noise and activity. One of the means of transportation is by shared 12-seater minivans, and callers hang out the side door or window, continually calling out destinations and prices. The streets are choked with economic activity, with vendors selling everything possible. I heard a Modest Mouse song blasting from a booth selling pirated cds and dvds, and saw a man wearing a Seattle Mariners baseball cap! The city itself is visually as chaotic as it sounds. The streets lined with booths are covered with brightly colored tarps. Bolivian indigenous women are incredibly cute, by the way. The wear poofy, ruffled skirts over layers of petticoats, sweaters and aprons, stockings, cheap plastic flats, shawls, and neon colored, woven bundles filled with market purchases or sometimes children. On their heads perch bowler hats, and they wear their hair long in two braids connected with yarn or wool. They are called cholas, or cholitas, and I found them darling and beautiful. The combination of all their mismatched and layered clothing was incredibly visually stimulating, and complimented the noisy, busy atmosphere of La Paz perfectly.

As I climbed the hills, I was treated to stunning views of the city. La Paz sits in a high-altitude valley in the cordillera. The city structures climb the mountains and emerge from the valley until the land becomes too steep, and then the bright oragne of the brick buildings gives way to the rich blues and greens and ocasionally snow-capped peaks of the cordillera. It is the most stunning city I have ever seen, and my new favorite city in South America.

A view of La Paz's Iglesia de San Francisco from the pedestrian bridge a few blocks from my hostel.
La iglesia.

Flower vendors in front of the church.

Rather austerely dressed cholas in front of the church.

I spent the morning at the Coca Museum, which charters the history of the coca leaf and its various uses in Bolivia and the rest of the world. The museum was incredibly informative and interesting, and convinced me further of the unjustness of several Western countries' zero-tolerance policies towards Bolivia and its coca growers. Coca leaves are apparently still used by Coca Cola for flavor of their beverages, although obviously there is no longer cocaine in the pop. I also learned that Sigmund Freud was the first recreational coke user, another fun fact! Coca leaves were present at least 2,500 years B.C., and were used by indigenous peoples in the pre-Colombian Andes from tasks as diverse as fighting the effects of altitude to performing brain surgery. The Catholic Church outlawed the coca leaf during colonization, but once mining companies realized that if miners chewed coca leaves, they could work longer without feeling exhaustion, the coca leaf was relegalized. Chewing coca also represses the appetite and helps regulate the blood sugar...sounds good to me! Miners chewed so much coca that as a commodity the leaves were more valuable than gold. I wish I could bring home bags of coca with me, but of course it is illegal to enter the US with coca. The museum made the argument that coca has to be processed to make cocaine, and most coca processing places in Bolivia are owned and operated by private interests in the US and other Western countries. The museum, along with Evo Morales, are working hard to distinguish between cocaine, the drug, and coca, with its indigenous, spiritual and health benefits. I found the museum fascinating, and chewed some coca on the way out!

I had planned to visit the cemetery without realizing it was at the top of an endless hill and that I would have to walk through the chaos of the "Black Market," an unofficial market where I think you can seriously buy anything: shoes, clothing, pots and pans, bath tubs, the list is never-ending. I ended up being really happy that I persevered, because the cemetery was incredibly beautiful. It was the busiest cemetery I have ever visited--choked with visitors paying respects to loved ones. I was touched by one man standing next to the grave of a loved one, playing a little song from a plastic relic (kind of like those greeting cards that sing) and leaning against the grave with his forehead, eyes closed. I spent a lot of time creeping around the cemetery, trying to be respectful about making a tourist attraction out of people's loved ones. I was trying really hard to be appropriate and take pictures on the sly, but then within a span of 10 minutes I got hit on and then saw a kid throw a rock at a grave, so I relaxed a little about having to seem so pious and respectful! The cemetery was even more stunning for the fact that just beyond its borders, the city of La Paz was rising up at all angles.

The chaos of the Black Market.

Cholas doing some shopping.

Cemetery views.

Outside the cemetery was a beautiful flower market which I failed to photograph because it wasn't very busy and all the atendants were cholas, who notoriously do not like to be photographed. I was also struck in La Paz by all the political propaganda everywhere, especially in the wake of the hugely important vote. There were signs and billboards with pictures of the Bolivian president Evo Morales (the first indigenous president for Bolivia) kissing cholas and babies and waving the Bolivian flag. There was also pro-Evo graffiti everywhere. Bolivia has been in the process of rewriting its constitution for two and a half years, and it just so happens that I was in Uyuni the day of the vote to accept or reject the constitution. The new constitution, which gives more rights to the indigenous Bolivians and also alows Morales to run for reelection (big surprise), passed in five of Bolivia's nine districts, revealing some deep divisions in support for Evo. I saw a lot of signs referring to the vote during my stay in the country.

This political sign reads: "Vote yes for the new political consititution to eliminate poverty and social exclusion."

My third day in La Paz, I visited the Tihuanaco ruins 72 kilometers away, toward Lake Titicaca (a trip which merits a post of its own). On the way back, we stopped at a lookout point in El Alto on the rim of the valley to stare into the vast expanses of La Paz. The views were breathtaking.

La Paz from El Alto.

My fourth and final day in La Paz, I mostly chilled out. I ate salteñas, a traditional Bolivian food, for lunch. They are kind of like empanadas: baked pastry pockets filled with meat. Mine was filled with beef, egg, raisins, peas, onions, and papaya-banana juice. They were suuuuper tasty! I spent the afternoon relaxing at a cafe, and at night, visited a peña, a folkloric club. I was kind of bummed because the show started almost an hour and a half late, and my hostel had a midnight curfew, so I only got to see a little of the show. I did, however, enjoy fried llama fillet, and saw an all-female group perform beautiful folkloric music, sometimes sad, sometimes upbeat. There was also a dance performance with a princess, monsters, and a knight, all dressed in those creepy Carnaval masks and wild costumes of bright satin and sequins. It was really fun! An older Bolivian gentleman invited me to join his group for a drink, which I did, then, like Cinderella, had to rush home. It was at this time that I faced the only negative experience La Paz afforded. I was walking quickly through the streets to my hostel, a short five-block walk from the peña. Something dark flew past my forehead, narrowly missing my dome, and I realized as it exploded on the ground next to me it was a bag of garbage! I have no idea where it came from, heard no laughter, cat calls, or even threats. I chose to keep moving, barely breaking my gait, but was rather confused by the whole situation! Was it because I am a woman alone at night? A gringa? Did the culprit want attention, or were his intentions more malicious? I tell you one thing, I would have been pissed if I had gotten sacked with a bag of trash! If it was anti-American or -gringa sentiment, it is one of the few times I have experienced it so strongly in South America.

The female performers at the peña.

Mostly, though, I have no complaints about La Paz! It is an incredible, lively city that was intersting at every turn, and I cannot wait to revisit it in the future.

La Paz--Part I (I LOVE this city!)

2009-02-06T09:38:00.000-08:00

I was really excited to explore the city of La Paz. Stace had told me I would love it, and she was right! The first day I spent in La Paz was perfect. I arrived at my hostel a little before 7 am, and found out I would have a double room to myself! I was in love with my hostel immediately. It was clean, I had an upstairs room away from the common areas, the staff were incredibly helpful. At one point, one of the hostel workers chased me several blocks down the street because he had given me the wrong name of a restaurant! So, if you are ever in La Paz, I recommend you stay at Arthy's Guesthouse. It was an awesome place. I spent several hours that morning snoozing, then headed to the tourist district, where I ate a huge breakfast, booked a tour to some ruins, and bought my bus ticket to Copacabana. After these errands were taken care of, it was time for lunch, so I went for some "traditional" La Paz food, which ended up being llama steak smothered in onions and tomatos. I love eating llama. It is really lean and has a delicious, rich taste to it. I am already scheming to hatch a llama farm when I return to the States so I can eat it all the time! I also had a Bolivian beer, called Huari, which went straight to my head because of the altitude (Bolivia is something like 3,600 meters above sea level).

My delicious lunch.
After lunch, I had a museum day, and came to appreciate La Paz even more. The Bolivian culture is very vibrant and diverse, and in general, I found Bolivians very proud of their culture. The museums I visited all gave me a very clear understanding of the different cultural expressions in the country.

The first museum was on Calle Jaen, a darling colonial alleyway. All the museums I visited were housed in beautiful old colonial buildings, too, which added even more to my appreciation. The first museum was a museum of musical instruments and nothing more. It displayed the history of Bolivian musical instruments, from pre-Colombian times to the present. There were rooms devoted to guitars, flutes, drums, and some very interesting indigenous instruments I had never encountered before. You could play some of them, and as you entered a new room, music utilizing the instruments on display would start playing to give you an idea of how the instruments sounded. It was an incredible museum.

The second museum was also on Calle Jaen, and housed a small collection of pre-Colombian gold, silver, and copper pieces. I love imagining the ancient, indigenous people of Bolivia all decked out in their precious metals.

Calle Jaen.
Next, I walked toward downtown to the Museo Folklorico y Etnografico to view over 167 pieces of Bolivian weaving, charting the evolution of style from pre-Colombian times to the present. I love Andean textiles, and different parts of Bolivia have developed very distinct and beautiful styles of weaving over the centuries. There was also an incredible room of masks, again pre-Colombian to the present, including elaborate and creepy Carnaval masks and masks used in Amazonian tribes as well. Then there was an entire room of ceremonial accoutrements that utilized feathers. My favorite pieces consisted of flamingo and toucan feathers. The feathers from the Amazon were incredibly vibrant. There were also videos of ceremonial dances in which the performers wore the types of costumes on display. I was entranced, especially seeing the men dancing with huge headdresses made out of wild feathers. There was also a room of pottery, but I have seen my fair share of pottery by now, so I only briefly walked through it.

The incredible old building that houses the Museo Folklorico.

My final museum visit of the day was at the Museum of Fine Art, which housed paintings and sculptures from Bolivian painters from all over the country. There were numerous old religious paintings, a spectacular modern art room, and rooms that chronicled the history of Bolivia through paintings. My favorite room was a tribute to one of the most famous Bolivian painters, which also displayed his influences and showed the connection between his works and painters that came after him. Many of his paintings focused on indigenous groups, and were spectacular!

The inside courtyard of the Museum of Fine Art.

More cool old architecture, as seen from the inside courtyard of the Museo Folklorico.

I wrapped up my busy day by lounging briefly in the Plaza de Murillo, which contains the cathedral and the presidential palace. It was a busy and beautiful plaza filled with pigeons, kids chasing pigeons, and families. I felt very comfortable and welcomed here. Everyone had warned me about being safe in Bolivia and watching my things, but I was really enamored of the city after spending only one day there.

Different views of the Plaza.

Cathedral, obvio.

The presidential palace is on the right.

Salar de Uyuni--Part III

2009-02-06T09:12:00.000-08:00

Day Three of the Uyuni trek was my favorite day, I think. In the morning before we left Uyuni, I went to the immigration office and grudgingly paid my $135 visa fee. After the fact, I decided it was worth it, because I fell in love with Bolivia. I am definitely going back in the future. Actaully, there is a diabetic camp in Bolivia I would like to volunteer at someday soon. Anyway, the immigration officals in Uyuni were much nicer and more welcoming to me, and they called me "Amiga," which I later discovered is a distinctly Bolivian trait for dealing with gringos. Then I bought a bus ticket for later that night to La Paz because I was ready to put Uyuni behind me.

We drove back out to the Salar, and this time we were able to get out of the car and play in the field of salt. I cannot possibly describe the feeling of standing in the middle of the salt desert. It looks like you are standing on a field of snow, but it is pure salt. We all had a great time taking crazy pictures all day.

Salt scraped into piles to be taken into town to dry.

We stopped at another area to view a hotel made entirely out of salt. At this point I was in a pissy mood again for two reasons. I had watched our guide get high with some of the people on our tour, and had really reached my limit since as far as I could tell he was getting paid to party with us. He hadn't been very informative along the way, had spent a majority of his time bothering me and pressuring me to party with everyone, and had continually made assumptions about my character based on very little information, conversations, or time together. Then, to have him act so unprofessionally, I was revolted. And then, he informed us that the driver had found out that the place we were going to would not have lunch for us, only some pop to drink. I absolutely errupted. I told our guide that this had been the most fucked up tour I had ever been on, that I knew it wasn't his fault but that he had done nothing to advocate for us, and that half of the things that we had been told would be provided never materialized. He just stared at me.

Nearby the salt hotel, there was a place to put up flags from around the world. I didn't have an American flag to contribute. What cracked me up was that the Brazilians all travel with Brazilian flags, and frequently whip them out for pictures. I can't tell you how many pictures I posed for with a Brazilian flag in it! I really enjoyed their patriotism.

The flag circle.

Our next stop was my favorite place of the whole trip. It was an "island" of rock in the very middle of the salar, and it was covered with giant cacti, some as old as 1,000 years and some even older than that! Some of the cacti were over 12 meters tall! There was a trail around the island, and I got a terrible sunburn hiking it since there was no shade. It was such a bizarre and interesting place. Also, I love cacti. It was so incredible to look out over the cacti popping up all over the island and see a field of blinding white salt, and then volcanos in the distance. Unforgettable. Unforgettable.

I'm just hanging out with some cacti.

Trail-marker made out of cactus.

It looks unreal, right?

After passing a couple hours on the island, we reconveined at the edge and somehow, magically, some dry and hastily prepared chicken sandwiches appeared for lunch. However, as we sat eating, we noticed every other tour group eating steaks prepared right next to their tables by their Bolivian guides. Please, if anyone ever visits San Pedro de Atacama or Uyuni, never, ever go on a tour through Colque Tours. It was the worst, most unprofessional and poorly run outfit I have ever encountered.

It was difficult to stay super irritated amidst such stunning scenery, espeically after I had some food in my tummy. We begged the guide to take us to the very middle of the salar, where we wouldn't see any other tourists, and we spent at least half an hour fooling around with our cameras. The people in my tour group were fascinated with doing those kinds of pictures where you stand a different distances and it looks like someone is standing on your hands, or you are about to stomp on a group of tiny people. By this time, my sunburn was starting to hurt, so I mostly sat in the shade of the tour bus and stared out into the salar.

The island, as seen from a distance.

Contemplating the salar.

After a couple more minor stops to see some little geysers and the ensuing lake they created, we headed back to Uyuni. I hopped an overnight bus over 565 kilometers (180 km unpaved, btw, which made for a bumpy and sleepless ride), and by the morning, I was in La Paz!

Geysers.

A salt-harvesting truck.

Etheral.

So, my final thoughts: it was totally worth all the bullshit to see these amazing sights. I wish I had talked to other travelers and found a better company to book my tour with, but even at some of the worst moments, I knew I was lucky to be seeing what I was seeing. From the moment I arrived, I was in awe of Bolivia, and I couldn't wait to see more of it!

Salar de Uyuni--Part II

2009-02-05T09:30:00.000-08:00

Day Two of the Uyuni trek commenced with my first cup of mate de coca, tea made from the "diabolical" coca leaf (according to the powers that be in the US, since coca obviously is used to produce cocaine). Coca is a natural remedy for altitude sickness, and when I finally got out of bed, all I could hope for was that my headache would end, so I pounded that shit. It did relieve my headache for awhile. One of its many characteristics is that it helps your lungs absorb more oxygen. Coca is now my hero. When I got to La Paz, I bought a shirt that says "The coca leaf is not a drug." I am going to wear it every day!

After a couple hours on the bumpy road, the headache was back and I was feeling nauseous. To make matters worse, the guide was back on my case. We stopped at a viewpoint overlooking a beautiful salt lake filled with flamingos, and he said, "Be happy!" Let me take a moment to explain to you how much I hate being told to be happy, or smile, when I am in a bad mood. It is an utter invalidation of my feelings. I also can't stand when people make my moods about them. It's like, I was feeling sick, and it had nothing to do with the guide or the rest of the group. I just wanted to be left alone. So I explained to him that I wasn't feeling well, and that I needed some space, hoping that would solve the problem. I also put on my ipod, becuase the Brazilians on our tour were all talking, and the thing about Brazilians, which I usually love, is that they never shut up and they are very loud, which was not helping the state of my head. About an hour later, the guide leaned over and said, for the second time, "You need to be happy!" and I thought, alright, enough is enough. So I said, "Look, I don't feel well. I am not going to sit here grinning and cheering if I don't feel well." His reply: "Well, it is a state of mind. So if you don't feel well, you need to change your mood." Me: "Okay, but that's how it works for you, not me. I just need to be left alone." He was like, "Yeah, but you still need to try." I had had it, so I finally said my peace: "Look, I don't like to be told how to live my life, so if you could give me some space on this issue, I would appreciate it." Finally, it worked, and he left me the hell alone for prettymuch the rest of the tour. I was furious, though.

The bright spot was that we stopped at yet another salt lake and got to see even more flamingos, super close up. They really are the goofiest birds ever. They sort of bob around on their long, spindly legs. They have black, beady eyes. Occasionally they stretch their wings and you can see the brilliant pink feathers on the undersides of their wings. It was magical.

The icing on the cake for the day was that, although the tour we bought had said we would spend the second night in another lodging area on the edge of the salt flat, we would have to go to Uyuni for the night because there was an important vote in Bolivia and the driver had to go vote. Our guide, who incidentally was Guyanese (and thus spoke English) and therefore not invested in Bolivian politics, explained this all to us at the last minute. The Frenchman flew into a rage and started cussing at him, while we all quietly supported him. We tried to work out multiple stratgies, such as something simple like having him go vote and then come back and get us, but no one was having it. And our guide, who should have been advocating for us, instead spent his time trying to sweet talk all of us out of our rage, using the staff in Chile as a scapegoat. I agree that the staff in Chile should have known and/or informed us about the situation so we could make up our own minds and get what we paid for, and I also understand that in South America, customers don't have the same rights. However, with everything else that had already happened, I was not having it. We made some half-hearted stops at a few sites along the way, dejectedly resigned to the fact that we would be sleeping in Uyuni for the night.

Some crazy rock we stopped at.

More weird rock formations.

A view of another salt lake.

More flamingos!

They were probably between 15 and 20 feet away from me. I just stared, entranced.

Another stop we made, at the Valley of the Rocks, which had weird rock formations. It was like staring into the sky to look for images in the clouds. This particular rock kind of looked like a bird.

You wouldn't think that my day could get more ridiculous and frustrating, but it certainly did. Once we got to Uyuni, we were informed that we would have to walk to our hotel because you couldn't drive on election day in the center of town. We were also informed that we would have to sneak into our hotel because it was illegal for people to work on election day. So, if you can imagine, a file of 11 gringos with our backpacks and luggage and a very obvious guide trying to sneak into the center of town, with police posted on every corner; it was really not realistic to believe that we were getting away with it. So we reach the hotel and are standing in the lobby signing in, and all of a sudden our guide starts yelling for us to just go into a room and herds us into the hallway and up the stairs. The police are pounding on the front door and we are all huddled in various rooms. There was a lot of yelling and I am not even sure how things were resolved, but the madame of the house came upstairs and tried to put two other girls in my room, which only contained double beds. I told her I was having a room to myself. It is one of the few times I have acted like a spoiled, pissy American. But to be honest, I felt like I earned that right with all the trials and tribulations of the day. And it was one of the best decisions I have ever made, because I got to relax, shower (because my room had it's own bathroom, a major plus!), organize my luggage, and read in bed without the awkward presence of strangers. It was amazing. I was just starting to feel like things were shaping up well. And, as soon as we started to descend to the city, my headache dissipated, so things were looking a bit better for day three of the tour. Everyone was downstairs in the hotel drinking that night, but I stayed in my room because, especially after traveling with Rebecca, I hadn't had much quiet, activity-free alone time, which for me is vital. So, Day Two evened out okay by the end I suppose. But lord, what a mess!

Salar de Uyuni--Part I

2009-02-05T09:09:00.000-08:00

The day after my mine tour, I embarked on a three-day tour into the Salar de Uyuni, a stunning and unique place just over the Chilean border in Bolivia. The tour itself, however, was one of the most frustrating experiences of my life.

I was off to a rocky start to begin with, as within the first hour we had to go through immigration. I had heard from several sources that since I have a Chilean identity card, I could enter Bolivia without the obligatory visa (and $135 visa fee) required of all Americans. This was a bold-faced lie, and the border patrol were not happy with me, even though I explained my situation and included the little fact that the tour operated I had bought the trip from had told me everything would be fine. I have never been treated the way I was treated by the immigraiton police. I felt like I was a criminal. They were incredibly hostile to me, and I did not feel welcomed at all. I now that the process for entering the US is also not in the realm of arms wide open, and having gone through something like this on probably a smaller scale, I can now empathize. For me, it was an intimidating process. But finally they allowed me to enter, after giving my passport to my tour guide and insisting I visit immigration in the town of Uyuni when I arrived.

I was kind of pissed that our tour operators hadn't been overseeing the immigration process to begin with in case I needed help, which I obviously did. Then, since I was the only American on our tour, while I was dicking around with immigration, the remaining 10 people on my tour were bonding in the bus. The guide had me sit up front with him to make sure I wasn't upset, so I missed out on more time with the group. It ended up being okay, because we stopped for breakfast and I had time to redeem myself, but by that time I guess the guide had decided he had a little crush on me, because for the rest of the damn day, he would not leave me alone. He also decided to give me advice on my future, telling me I should open a private institute in Chile (even after I clearly told him I am not interested in teaching any more) and telling me I should marry a South American. I cannot stand when people assume they know what is best for me after knowing me for an insignificant amount of time, and I started to get really irritated. Unfortunately, since I was the last one on the bus, I had to sit in the very last row with the backpacks (isolating me from the group yet again), and of course the only remaining seat, right next to me, was for the guide. I even made up a fake Chilean boyfriend so he would get the hint and leave me the eff alone, but all attempts at diversion failed.

However, things began to improve as we went further into the park. Our first stop was at Lago Esmerelda, a beautiful sea-green lake beneath an imposing volcanic peak. The color was unreal.

Posing awkwardly in front of Lago Esmerelda.
Volcanic terrain.

Our tour group, which included an Israeli, a Frenchman, a Swede, a Belgian, five Brazilians, and an Italian.

Vicuñas (endangered, I believe).

Our track into the high plain, bordered by spectacular extinct volcanos.

We next stopped at a natural hot spring. I chose not to participate, because I hate changing out of a damp swimsuit. I knew we wouldn't stay at the spring long enough to make the struggle worth it, and I also did not want to parade around in my swimsuit in front of the guide. I did sit along the edge and dip my hands in, and the water was deliciously warm and clear. The guide apparently thought it would be cute to try and splash me to get me to come in, so I retreated and took pictures of the surrounds.

The hot spring feeding out onto the plain.

Next we stopped at some geysers, which were not very active since it was later in the day. We were about 5,200 meters (something like 17,000 feet, I believe) above sea level, and this proved to be our highest elevation of the trip. I frequently found myself gasping for air. It was a bit unnerving.

Geysers.

After the geysers, we began our descent into Lago Colorado, where we would be staying for the night. The site was amazing--a salt lake colored orange in places by minerals, surrounded by volcanos, and filled with flamingos! It was spectacular!

Approaching Lago Colorado.

A flamingo stretching its wings.

Spectacular!

We stayed in these little one-storey structures made out of mud bricks, and man, was it cold. We were at about 4,280 meters above sea-level, so breathing continued to be a challenge. Our lodging was right off the lake, though, so we ate a (very late) lunch and then I had about three hours to walk on a trail that went part of the way around the lake. Hiking along next to flocks of flamingos and at one point through a herd of llama was an unforgettable experience. There was also a lookout point that I climbed up to. The wind was icy, but I stuck it out for as long as possible because flamingos are more likely to take flight at dusk, and I wanted to see some of them flying. Then, I hurried back to the lodge, trying to beat the dark. I arrived back at the lodge with a killer headache, which at first I thought was caused by the cold but later realized was a symptom of altitude sickness. I struggled through dinner and then put my pajamas on and tried to sleep. Everyone else, of course, was partying, including our guide, who tried to convince me that whiskey was a great cure. This really irritated me, since one of the first things they tell you about altitude sickness is to avoid liquor. I was so over his garbage. So, sleeping was a struggle because my head was pounding all night, and another symptom of altitude sickness is insomnia, so I woke up every hour or so. However, it was a small price to pay for the sights of the day.

Llama mama and baby, and another llama pal.

The scene from the viewpoint.

The herd I walked through. I serioulsy thought they were going to eat me. It was scary.

Eee! Flamingos!

Chuquicamata Mine--My Second Try

2009-02-05T09:00:00.000-08:00

If you can recall, I was supposed to visit "Chuqui" back in July, but due to a missed bus, I was not able to make it. However, I really wanted to see it, so I decided to stop by on my way to Bolivia.

The sacrifice was another 24 hour bus ride, and I sat next to the pissiest Chileno I have ever met. It made the trip a little uncomfortable. On the way, The Motorcycle Diaries soundtrack came on my ipod, and I started to think about Che Guevara. In some (small, mind you) ways I was following in his footsteps. Che visited Chuqui during his famous motorcycle trip across South America, and there he met a communist miner that is largely credited with giving birth to Che's political leanings. Che has been a huge inspiration to me since I studied his life and politics in perhaps the best class I took in college, "Revolution in Latin America." It is not Che's revolutionary ideology that inspires me so much, as I do not agree with armed resistance, although I can see how it seemed like a good option. No, it is more the commitment to his ideals that inspires me. He lived a guerrilla life with serious asthma. Every time I start to get pissy because diabetes is getting in my way, I think of Che. I am a hypocite...I have ideals that I completly ignore when the situation suits me. I think overconsumption is a problem, but you should see my closet. In these respects, I am to be more like Che. And in many ways, the romantic notions attached to his cross-continent journey gave me the idea for my own journey. But look how different my situation is from his. I am in (mostly) comfortable, climate-controlled buses, listening to my ipod. When I run out of money, I call my mom. Che and his traveling mate barely scraped by. I could never do that. And for that, too, I admire him.

So anyway, the visit to the copper mine was really important to me. These days, the mining company runs tours (Che would not approve) and they are, sadly, 57% propaganda for the mining industry. For example, we visited the abandoned town, and were told how the mining company provided all the housing for the miners. "They don't have to pay rent!" the tour guide yelled at us. Umm, internal eye roll. Can you please talk about the miners' quality of life, sir? Also, he gave some very interesting reasons for why the town was abandoned. Obviously, it was too close to the mines and was thus polluted, but they don't tell you that on the tour. Instead, they told us it was because they want to expand the mine and the town was in the way. However, when we saw the site of expansion, which will connect the major mine with another minor mine, it was not in the area of the former town. In any event, after being indoctrinated, we were allowed to stare into the mine for about 25 minutes. It looked like the inside of a giant snail, with stacked trails that looked like a maze. You could see where parts had collapsed, and we were warned what to do in case we felt an earthquake. The mine is 5 kilometers wide, 3 kilometers long, and 1 kilometer deep. It was massive, obviously. And so was the mining equipment. The dump trucks were the size of houses, and the biggest ones weigh something like 400 tons. Apparently, China is the biggest importer of copper from this mine; they receive 22% of the exports. They use it in electrical projects in their development-crazed cities. There were other interesting statistics, such as how much earth is moved each day, and it was some crazy, unbelievable number that I have forgotten by now.

Staring into the pit.

The dump trucks were really cool.

Chuqui, you were worth the wait. I'm no Che Guevara, though.

Puerto Varas--My Return to Chile

2009-02-04T08:13:00.000-08:00

Our final two days together, Becca and I briefly explored Puerto Varas, then took an overnight bus to Chillán so she could meet the fam and friends I spent 9 months with. Puerto Varas instantly became one of my favorite places in Chile, for its small-town vibe, beautiful surrounds (huge, crystal clear lake, the largest in Chile, and two volcanos in the distance), beach-lounging and swimming options. We hung out at the beach prettymuch all day. I swam several times, even though the lake was freezing. I don't really like laying out unless I have the option to swim. At the start of our day, around noon, the beach was pretty empty, but by afternoon, it was packed. There was this little shit kid running around nearby, throwing sand, trying to force his dog into the water, putting too much sunscreen on so he was coated in white. I was cracking up at him, because I love kids that have a little bit of wildness to them. He noticed me and came over and sort of hovered. We started chatting and I ended up hanging out with him for a couple hours. His name was Juan, he was 10 years old, and had lived in Bariloche, so we had a lot to talk about. We buried our feet in the sand, made volcanos out of sand, had races in the water, looked at the pictures and maps in the guidebook. I gave him one of Becca's fake dinosaur teeth as a present. He was so precious. I love how sometimes kids just need a focus for their energy, and then the little shit in them transforms to this delightful little person. I was kind of sad to say goodbye to him! Rebecca, however, was not, since his dog was obnoxious. It brought dirty diapers to our beach towel and devoured them, and kept barking at the ice cream salesmen. It would go into a frenzy, barking and nipping them. Rebecca got scratched and showered with sand, as she was caught in the middle. Misbehaved dogs are the worst. I also managed to make friends with another little girl while I was swimming. She enjoyed jumping off my back or bent knees into the water. I love Chile, because in the US, you always feel a little bit like parents think you are a child molestor if you want to play with their kids, but in South America, from what I can tell, most parents don't give a shit. Becca and I ended our day by cooling our sunburns with some beer and dinner on the balcony of a cute restaurant. I ate some rico ceviche. I love ceviche!

The next day, we arrived in Chillán around 6 a.m. and I went HOME! After trying to open the (now warped, apparently) door for like 15 minutes, Felipe came to my rescue. We nappend and then ran errands, and for lunch, Zuni made my favorite, humitas, which are basically ground corn with margarine and a bit of onion boiled inside corn leaves. It is possibly my favorite Chilean food. It was so cute, because Ema set it up so we could eat humitas as a special treat for my homecoming. I topped out at four, then felt kind of sick. We ran more errands, then met Stacey, Alejandro, and Sarah for a bite to eat. Finally, we capped off the night at the Universitario, our standby pub, with Felipe, Emilio, and Sarah's new boyfriend Guillermo. We drank, caught up, and, of course, danced. I had really been missing dancing to reggaeton with my best Chilean pals. It was very difficult to leave at 11:30 to catch our bus to Santiago. I wish we could have stayed longer. I have especially missed Felipe, and being as our time together was so brief, I hated to see it end.

Volcan Osorno.
Walking to the beach.
That's Volcano Osorno on the left and Volcano Calbuco on the right.
Taking the first dip of the day.
Playing with my new pal.
Kids are like sharks around a fresh kill when they find an adult who will play with them--just look at them coming for me! Juan has his back to the camera.
The crowded beach as seen from our walk home.
Cooling off with a beer on the balcony of a restaurant in downtown Puerto Varas.
Basically, I can't wait to go back to Chile. I might even return to Puerto Varas before heading back to the States.

Our Tours Through the Lakes District--Argentina to Chile

2009-01-29T08:45:00.000-08:00

For Becca's and my third and final day in Bariloche, we decided to take a tour that just about everyone recommended to us. It was a combination of three mini-hikes in the nearby national park, and the final hike was to the Black Glacier, which turned out to be exactly what its name implies. Our morning started with a quick stop after we entered the national park to poke around a lake, field and river. Becca and I took many photos with the brilliant blue water (remember that Crayola named cerulean? I have now seen that color in nature). The river was so clear that, standing on the bridge, I could look down and see trout in the water. Next, we spent about an hour hiking to a waterfall that had three different pools. We got to view the waterfall from three different viewpoints. It was really pretty, but I was suffering a major low bloodsugar when we arrived, which somewhat diminished my enjoyment of the sights. The hike itself was pretty, too. There were bursts of yellow wildflowers at many points along the trail, and we could see part of Mount Tronador, where the Black Glacier was located--well, the part that wasn't hidden by the clouds. Our guide, Diego, was great. He stopped us at many points along the way and provided helpful and interesting information about the area. It was obvious that he loved his job and really cared about protecting the environment he worked in. He was one of the best guides I have ever had assist me on a tour.

Mountain, trees and field.
Standing by the cerulean water.
A gorgeous waterfall.
After stopping for lunch (and eating the worst, gristly hamburger of my life), we went on our second mini-hike to another little waterfall. Along the way, we got to traverse a labyrinth of lush, green bamboo, which apparently during winter forms a tunnel under the snow. Diego informed us that a big joke was to move the bamboo over your friend's head so all the snow would fall down on him. This sounded like something I wanted to try on Becca, but alas, it was summer. It was interesting to find bamboo in South America, but apparently it is a native species. The waterfall was cute but not overwhelmingly amazing. I could see how it had potential during the spring thaw. We also got to view a river of snowmelt, with crystal clear waters, mingling with a river of glacier melt, which is milky in color. The two rivers were very distinct when they first met, until the blended together farther along.

Becca treks through the Green Labyrinth of bamboo.
Hanging out with a waterfall.
Crossing a bridge that could only hold three at a time.
Finally, the best part of the day: the Black Glacier. The hike to it was very brief and pretty, and provided a view of the valley below. The Black Glacier itself was awesome. It looked like pure evil. We kept joking about being on Mordor. Apparently, the glacier grinds through the earth such that the earth comes up over the top of it, turning it black in color. Another source of the blackness was landslides. Diego performed a mini-demonstration by throwing a small chunk of glacial ice into the dirt and showing us how it turned black. The best part of our time at the glacier was (aside from a Lord-of-the-Rings-tribute photoshoot) was simply sitting and staring at the glacier. We could see up the mountain to the parts of the glacier that weren't black yet. Also, the mountain got its name, Mount Tronador, or "Thunderer," because huge blocks of ice crash off the sides of the mountain, creating the sound of thunder. We were able to witness this event several times. The long busride back to Bariloche gave us time to relax, and after another dinner of pasta and beer, we tucked ourselves into bed.

Our guide Diego explains something about the glacier.
Becca and me at the Black Glacier.
Close-up contrast of joy and evil!

The next day, we got up early to start our "Seven Lakes" cruise across the Andes into Chile! The title was a bit of a misnomer, since we only crossed three lakes, but it was a beautiful day. After our first, early morning ride across the lake next to Bariloche, we spent about an hour on the beach. I chased a butterfly with my camera, and Becca sat on a log and enjoyed the peacefulness of the Andes. Then, after a brief busride, we boarded the second catamaran and cruised for 20 minutes on a lake of glacial milk, encountering Mount Tronador as we creeped toward the shore. After exiting out of Argentina, we hopped out next bus and crossed into Chile! We got another view of the mountain from the Chilean side.

How can I explain my excitement at returning to Chile after a month away? We stopped at the border to horse around and take pictures, and at one moment, I kind of teared up. It really did feel like a homecoming. I knew I had missed Chile, but the extent of my yearning wasn't quite clear until I was back in. It was such a relief to know I was going back to a place where I knew how things worked, where I had connections and people that I loved and loved me. After this experience, I can't imagine the emotions I will have when I return to the US.

We stopped in the tiny town of Peulla, went through customs, ate lunch at one of the two hotels that made up the entirety of Peulla, and then layed under a tree until it was time to depart. Our final, nearly two-hour boat ride, was a bit frustrating. We passed two volcanos, including Volcan Osorno, a beautiful, snow-capped, perfectly formed crater. However, it was really hazy and we could barely see the volcano. Also, the inside of the boat was too hot, but staying outside was a bit of a hassle in the wind. Becca and I were both ready to arrive in Puerto Varas and relax, so we were kind of over it.

Exploring the beach.
Contemplating the surrounds from our catamaran.
Mount Tronodor as we creep up to it in our boat.
Becca with Mount Tronodor, as seen from the Chilean side of the mountains--she's pointing it out in case you don't know what you should be looking at!
The end of the line--we disembark in Chile!
Once in Puerto Varas, we settled into a really cute and comfortable hostel. After a quick dinner, again, we went straight to bed. Our busy vacation together was coming to an end, and we were exhausted.

Moving on in Bariloche

2009-01-29T07:59:00.000-08:00

After spending several days basking in the sun of the desert, it was quite a shock to our systems to roll off the bus in Bariloche at 6 am and be met with chilly gusts of wind and ominous clouds. During the six hour bus ride, the landscape had changed drastically, and we were now surrounded (from what we could see through the clouds) by green-blue mountains, a wintery lake, and emerald forests. We hurried to our hostel, and Becca rested while I ran some errands. In the afternoon, we did our best to fight through our exhaustion and see the sights of Bariloche. Bariloche is a cute city on the shores of a huge lake, and it has a lot of European influences. More than one person has said it reminds them of Switzerland. The Plaza de Armas is all stone and log buildings. We went to a museum that had all sorts of displays on local flora and fauna, and detailed the history of the region. It was interesting, but we were tired, so we took a nap, then ate dinner and basically went to bed, because we had planned to do some hiking the next day.

Bariloche on a blustery day.

Becca found a pal!
We spent our second day in Bariloche out in the hills. Thanks to the detailed advice of a girl at our hostel, we decided to take on two hikes. The first, up Cerro Campanaria, was only a 40-minute hike, but it was steep and dusty. However, the views from the top made the struggle worth it. Once we reached the top, we relaxed for awhile and simply enjoyed the magnificent scenery. We were able to see the Andes and lakes that surrounded us, as well as the city of Bariloche. Coming down was a pain in the ass, however, as the dusty trails provided no traction. At one point, I totally ate it and rolled down the hill in a cloud of dust, following my water bottle. I still have an owie on my knee.

The veiw from halfway up.
We are almost to the top!

The views from Cerro Companaria are spectacular!

The second hike was much easier. We hiked for about 3 kilometers through a bamboo forest out to a little cove on the lake, where we found a secluded rock to soak up some rays and enjoy the sounds of the lake crashing on the shore. I also enjoyed a package of Mana cookies, my new favorite treat! After enjoying as much of the beach as possible, we retreated back to Bariloche, exhausted and pleased with ourselves.

Becca hiking through a bamboo forest.
We finally made it to the beach!
The view from our sunbathing rock.
As you can see, Bariloche and its surrounding areas are beautiful. Again, in many ways, it reminded me of the Pacific Northwest, except that the mountains of Patagonia are so distinct. I am inspired to do more hiking when I return to Washington.

The Real Jurassic Park

2009-01-28T09:25:00.000-08:00

Our adventure started in the hot, dry city of Neuquen, an industrial hub in the center of Argentina. We stayed at the Residential Ingles, which cannot be faulted for false advertising because the ancient woman who checked us in peppered her explanations of the house rules with random English words and, unbelievably, sound effects. We spent almost the entire day straightening things out for our visit to the Paleontology Center, which was highly complicated by the distance of necessary destinations, the heat, untimely low bloodsugars, the failure of tour companies to accept debit cards, and the limit placed by banks on how much cash one can remove in 24 hours. Finally, we finished our errands, and we even had time that day to indulge in ice cream, pizza and beer.

Early the next morning, we spent one and a half hours shuttling through the desert to the shores of a giant man-made lake. The Proyecto Dino site was a collection of trailers and aluminum buildings on the beautiful red-orange sands at the edge of the lake. We took breakfast with an overwhelmingly large group of Australian high school girls and a collection of their teachers and guardians. Jorge, the director of the center, greeted us enthusiastically and invited us to walk with him and the Australians on a nearby beach to look for dinosaur bones. I was sort of surprised that upon arrival we would be immediately taken out the "field." After a brief explanation of what we were looking for (which to me made very little sense), Jorge turned us loose. I found a pile of suspect looking material on a rock, and Becca immediately crushed my hopes and dreams by informing me it was just a pile of petrified wood. She claimed a small piece to trick her friends with back home. After some more looking, Becca and I were starting to feel bad about ourselves because the Australians kept finding bones and our searching had yet to produce results. One of the Australian women explained to us that if you think you found a bone, to put it on your tongue or the inside of your bottom lip. If it sticks, it is a bone. I demanded the bone in Becca's pocket, and proved that my pile of petrified wood was in fact a dinosaur bone! We were really excited by this news, and pretty soon we were discovering all kinds of bones and running up to Jorge for validation, as if we were kindergarteners with watercolors. But, as Becca so aptly said, "I don't feel like it's a bone unless Jorge says it is!" I was extremely depressed by the fact that the man-made lake, created 30 years ago, had covered the vast valley of dinosaur fossils. The bones we were finding were merely scraps that had been unearthed and destroyed by the water. What a devastating realization. We were also extremely jealous when one of the Australian girls found a small black dinosaur tooth simply sitting on top of a rock.

Looking for bones on the beach in my awesome new Paleontology hat!

Taking a break on the beach.
Becca on the beach with a piece of dinosaur bone.

After our morning on the beach, we were given a tour of the site and museum, which was fascinating and informative. Our guide explained the geological make-up of the region, as well as the process of how fossils are made, which I will let you wikipedia if you care to know because I am a little fuzzy on the details by now. We also got to view a bunch of petrified trees, which was pretty cool. There was a petrified piece of Arucaria (Monkey Puzzle) tree, and I was fascinated to learn those existed 100 million years ago. There was also a tree that was in the process of fossilization. The outside had fossilized, but the inside was still wooden. I couldn't believe I was looking at actual wood that was between 40 and 50 million years old! We learned about the important discoveries made in the area, and found that in 2000 (I believe) someone had found a piece of bone on their property and informed the nearby university, who brought in Jorge. Jorge began excavating and made one of the most important discoveries in paleontology history. He uncovered a skeleton of a herbiverous dinosaur that was 70% complete--the most complete skeleton in the world! A normal skeleton in good condition is usually about 35% complete. We found out that Jorge, who had been skipping around the beach with us all morning, is actually more than the director of the center--he is a world-famous paleontologist! Other paleontologists visit the center just to meet him. I was elated; not only were we touching dinosaur bones and learning about one of the most mysterious and fascinating professions on the planet, but we were doing so with a world-famous expert! His skeleton contains the biggest dinosaur pelvis ever found. I have forgotten what kind of dinosaur it is, because who really pays attention to those names excpet people like Jorge, but I have it in some literature somewhere. We also learned that all of the finds in the area are from the Cretaceous Period, about 100 million years ago. We visited the excavation site where Jorge discovered the famous skeleton, which is an ongoing excavation project. Apparently, there are eight other skeletons in the area awaiting excavation. We also got to hold fossilized eggs and see some fascinating skeletons that had also been uncovered in the area--tortoises, pterodactyls (spelling? yikes!), the first flying dinosaurs, the first dinosaurs with wings who could not fly, and a crazy looking pelican beak with razor sharp teeth. We also got to witness our guide kill the most ferocious spider I have ever seen.

Becca with Jorge's famous dinosaur pelvis.

After lunch, we went back to the excavation pit and actually got to get in the dirt and dig! Becca and I were increasingly stunned with how interactive our experience was. I was floored by how accessible Jorge was. Someone in his position in the US would probably be confined to some sort of lecture tour or locked away in some sort of university, and I could maybe ask him a question in an auditorium. Instead, Becca and I spent practically the whole afternoon with him in the pit, and I had the opportunity to ask him all of my questions about the field of paleontology, which were numerous. I asked him what his favorite dinosaur was, and obviously it was Mr. 70%. On the tour earlier that day, we had learned that herbiverous dinosaurs used their tails as whips to fend off attacks, and that carnivores tried to attack the tails first to prevent being wiped out. I asked Jorge how paleontolgoists learn such specific information from such incomplete skeletons, and he gave me a very interesting answer. He said that there are paleontologists that study dinosaur behavior, especially in places like the US where they have more time, funding and resources, and that they look at other information like footprints, the diversity of species, flora, and clues in the geological makeup of the time. However, at his site, because there were so many skeletons, their main concern was identifying the skeletons. He also explained to me how they could identify new species when sometimes they were only discovering 10% complete skeletons, and he said that for that reason identification is difficult and mistakes are often made. He said that dinosaurs that seem to be the same (like long-necked dinosaurs, for example) often have very specific differences in their skeletons. Their pelvises may be wildly different sizes, for example. It still seems tiresome and complicated to me, but endlessly fascinating at the same time. I think Becca and I both felt enraptured for the entire two days of our stay at the center.I also got to ask Jorge about his goals and dreams for the center. He said he spends a lot of time writing grants to fund excavations, but not for improving the center. His goal is to construct a new, more sturdy museum, because they have so much to display. It would only cost about $6 million, which is like nothing to people from the US. I hope to be in the position one day to be able to donate something to the center. As an adult out of school, I rarely get to participate in a project so intriguing, enjoyable and educational. The center also seems like a great place to go with kids.

The digging in the pit was the best part, I think. Especially because I got a mallet and an iron stake and got to blast through layers of rock. The first layers were reddish and we had to remove this layer to get down to where the fossils might be. Rebecca discovered several plant fossils, which are extremely delicate and difficult to preserve, as evidenced by the fact that hers fell apart almost instantly. Becca kept thinking she had found bone, because she uncovered many rocks that were yellowish in color, and Jorge teased her that she was finding dinosaur pebbles, rocks that had at one time been bones but were now unrecognizable. I was blasting away, quite contentedly, when all of a sudden a suspect piece of bone flew out. Jorge confirmed that it was bone, so I started to chip away more carefully and something interesting began to take shape--I had found something! Unfortunately, it was wildly delicate, cracked in several places (including the places I had blasted apart with my equipment). I carefully dug around the bone, and Jorge applied super glue (a surprisingly central tool in paleontology!) to the cracks, but any time I worked directly on the bone, it threatened to come apart. Afraid of doing more damage, I decided to dig to the right of my find. After not much longer, I saw a shiny, tan piece of something in the grey stone. I pulled it out and shouted at Jorge, "Jorge! Is this a dinosaur tooth?" "Let me see," he replied, and as I passed it to him, the damn thing crumbled into like five pieces. Let me tell you, you haven't lived until you've had a world-famous paleontologist roll his eyes at you because you have broken one of his dinosaur fossils! He then came over to where I was digging, painstakingly collected the many pieces of my tooth, and glued them back together. In the commotion, he also uncovered another tooth that I had unwittingly blasted through and then he began to poke around the loosened stone and found another tooth. "Something unusual is happening here," he said. The teeth were all carnivore teeth, probably raptors, he told me! They were from three different species! "I want more!" Jorge demanded, and we dug until 7, but the magic was done for the day. Later, Jorge let me look at the teeth under a microscope. They had fine, cerrated edges and were shiny and beautiful. That experience, I think, will forever remain one of the highlights of my life.

World-famous paleontologist Jorge Calvo instructs me on how to dig.

I found something! (It's that yellowish spot in the rock.)
The excavation pit.
The raptor teeth. The one in the middle is my specific finding.
After dinner, I found I was addicted to digging, so I returned to the pit while Becca rested a bit. I spent about an hour digging with this darling girl named Silbana, an employee of Proyecto Dino. At first, she was nervous to go with me, but Jorge told her that I speak Spanish and that she would be fine. We had a hell of a good time, giggling and talking in the pit. Since we failed to make any new interesting discoveries, we had a lot of time to chat. Silbana had a lot of questions about my life and the US, and I got to learn about her life and some of the Argentine norms that had escaped me since I was traveling so quickly and not really making much genuine contact with Argentinos. Silbana was very warm and open and made good decisions (in that way reminding me of myself when I was her age). Becca joined us and then I really enjoyed myself translating back and forth. Romeo, the on-site cat, also joined us. After we got tired of finding nothing (and our backs told us it was time to quit), we took a walk along the beach to watch the sunset. Romeo followed us there, too, until I took pity on him and picked him up. It looked like the volcanic rock was hard on his paws.

Silbana, Romeo and me digging in the excavation pit.
The Paleontology Center (and Becca's shadow).
Sunset on the beach.
The goofy cat who accompanied us on our walk.
The golden sunset as seen from the center.
The next day Becca and I weren't quite sure what to expect, since it seemed like we had already done just about everything there was to do on the site. However, Jorge took a group of us on a small hike on the hills behind the center. He was very intent, always looking at the ground to see if he could see and signs of skeletons. Jorge filled us in on the geological history of the area, and showed us the extinct volcano that last errupted 100,000 years ago. We looked at the lines in the cliffs made by the different layers of dirt and he explained the geological implications of those layers to his research. He talked about wanting to compare the flora and fauna on the top of the hill with what he was finding down in the excavation pit. Becca and I were on point and started the day with an energetic photo shoot. That's one of the great things about having Becca around. She always has crazy ideas for random photo ops, and we always end up being really silly and giggly together. It was nice to have the security of my best friend with me, so that I could just let go and be strange. Those are some of my favorite moments with Becca--I love her and she always makes things more fun and interesting! The surrounding countryside was phenomenal and provided an excellent backdrop for our inspired poses.

Becca and me with "the mushroom."

The Paleontology Center as seen from our hike.
Tough girls on top of the mountain--it kind of looks like we are on the beach but we're not.

After our hike, we went to the lab and made replicas of some dinosaur teeth and claws to take home. After another huge lunch, we walked back to the pit to see how things were coming and found that my bone had been extracted and appeared to be a part of a rib! It was unclear what dinosaur it came from...but I found a dinosaur rib!

After lunch, we spent the afternoon involved in a very intricate and delicate project. We participated in "preparing" a fossil. Most fossils are too delicate to remove straight from the ground, so you have to cut around the rock that contains the fossil and cover it in plaster to protect the bone. The bones are then moved to another tented area where the plaster is removed and the rock can be more carefully chipped away. When we arrived under the tent, there was a huge pile of fossils waiting to be processed. Jorge found one for us to work on together (unfortunately, all the processing photos are on my camera in Chillan!), and man, was it a tedious project! I was feeling a little bit nervous about breaking yet another fossil, so I made Becca do the hard parts. Her primary tools were super glue and a push pin! She used the push pin to carefully scrape away the rock, and when the rock got really hard, she could only lightly tap the push pin with another small tool or the entire bone would crumble. We made very little progress, and I could finally appreciate what a painstaking process paleontology is. The shape of the bone gradually emerged, and Jorge suggested it was a dinosaur pubis. At one point, a piece of rock came off and part of the fossil underneath essentially turned to dust. Jorge assisted us--or rather, we assisted him--in repairing the damage because he needed to retain the shape of the bone. He called for "glue" and the "thumb tack" and, realizing he sounded like a medical doctor in surgery, began to horse around. He pronounced the dinosaur dead at 4 pm and said it was a tough case and he didn't know if he was going to make it but we would have to do our best to see if he could pull through. Again, I was struck by what a unique experience we were having, and wholly impressed that Jorge had such a great personality. I'm not gonna lie, I fell in love with him a little bit. He was so accessible and attentive, always coming up to us with ideas for new projects and seeing what we wanted to do. Becca and I were both impressed with the wide variety of activities we participated in during our short stay at the center. I have always been fascinated by dinosaurs, but never did I think I would actually be able to touch real fossils, excavate and prepare them. Ever since I was Dr. Elle Satler for Halloween in 5th grade, my secret dream was to become a paleontologist. This is probably the closest I will ever get, and you know, it was pretty damn satisfying!

Making molds if dinosaur teeth to show our friends. Me with my discovery (after a more skilled worker extracted it from the ground).

The sparkling bay next to the excavation site where Becca and I walked after our afternoon of processing.
It was really, really hard to leave that place. I hope to be able to go back someday with my brother, and anyone else who can come!