Aventuras en el Amazon

Algunos de mis momentos favoritos de este gran viaje son los que no había planeado.  A veces esas experiencias sorpresas han creado las mejores historias. Creo que la vida es así. Que siempre los momentos más importantes son los que nunca hubiéramos podido imaginar antes.

Tomé un vuelo de Lima a Iquitos en la selva Amazona de Peru. La meta era ir en una lancha de Iquitos a Leticia en Colombia en el gran Amazon. Me quedé en un hostal hermoso en un bungalow tipo casa de árboles con mi compañero de piso, Henrik de Noruega. Él me dijo que tenía que ir a visitar Belén, un distrito de la provincia de Iquitos. Parte de la comunidad es una ciudad flotante en la mitad del río. Todos los libros turisticos avisan que Belén, que es una comunidad muy pobre, es muy peligroso y que touristas no deben ir alla. Similar de las advertencias sobre las favelas de Río de Janiero. Y claro que siempre hay que tener cuidado. Pero también, a veces hay que correr riesgos para ver cosas y lugares diferentes. (Creo que a veces mis padres odian este hábito mío porque puede ser mucho más peligroso. Pero también puede ser mucho mas aventurero y a mí me gusta la aventura. O sea, ¿a quién no le gusta una buena aventura de vez en cuando?)

Bueno. ¿Dónde estaba? Decidí ir a ver la ciudad peligrosa, y atando mi bolsa alrededor del cuello para cuidar mis cosas, tomé un mototaxi (¿he mencionado como me encantan los mototaxis?) a Belén. El taxista me dijo que tenía que tener mucho cuidado. Le dije que gracias y que iba a cuidarme mucho. Caminaba por el mercado y llegué a la parte flotante. Bajé las escaleras hacia la parte de la ciudad flotante para caminar entre las casas. Caminé en "las aceras" o las tablas de madera muy angostas y delicadas arriba del agua que me daban mucho miedo. Toda la gente me estaban mirando. Toda la gente me estaban saludando. Toda la gente parecía estar feliz verme en "las calles" de su ciudad. Un hombre grande me invitó entrar a su casa para visitarle. Decidí que no era una buena idea. Una señora grande me invitó almorzar en su casa. Decidí que tampoco era una buena idea. Pero, ¡qué hospitalidad!

Subé hacia el mercado de nuevo y estaba hablando con una mujer sobre los detalles de la planta de la yuca cuando nos interumpió un hombre tratando de explicarme todo en un inglés básico. Me explicó que su nombre era Lito y que era un guía de turismo y que a él le gustaba mostrar su ciudad a extranjeros. Después de tantos meses en tantas ciudades, estoy perdiendo la paciencia con esos "guías" que trabajan por su cuenta. Nunca se puede saber si son buenas personas o si se van a robar ni si es una buena idea confiar en ellos. Por eso, a pesar de todas las pruebas y los testimonios que me mostró de sus clientes satisfechos, le dije que no necesitaba un guía que solo necesitaba comprar una hamaca para mi viaje. Me dijo que sabía la señora con las mejores hamacas en Belén y aunque lo dudaba, le seguí a ver a esa señora.

Caminamos por todo el mercado y me mostró cosas que no hubiera visto sin él. Animales, comidas, mascotas, pieles de serpientes grandes, cremas de polvo de uñas de gatos y más. Me ayudó (con la ayuda de esa señora) elegir una hamaca muy buena. Y aunque probablemente pagué un precio más que normal, no me molestaba tanto. De hecho empezé a caerme bien ese hombre. Había ganado mi confianza y decidí ir con él en su tour de la ciudad flotante. Fuimos en una canoa de madera motorizada hasta que llegamos a la mitad del lago. No podía creer el tamaño de esa comunidad ni la magnitud de la vista. Había casas flotantes por kilometros y kilometros, niños en todos lados estaban nadando y reíndo y gritando. Todos los otros barquitos que nos pasaron nos saludaron con sonrisas muy grandes. Es increíble como algo tan triste (en relación de la pobreza de esa comunidad) puede ser tan hermoso al mismo tiempo.

Lito me explicó como habían construido las casas, sobre las escuelas, las estaciones y el crecido y descrecido del río cada año. Me llevó a su casa y me presentó a su padre y a su mujer, que esta embarazada con su primer hijo. Viven en una casa chiquitita sin muebles, sin electronicos, sin lujos. Consista de una sala principal con una hamaca y dos sabanas, una cocina, un baño afuera y una habitación arriba en caso de inundaciones de agua en el primer piso. Cuando llegamos, la esposa estaba haciendo su tarea. Ella es de una parte del Amazon muy lejos y nunca tenía una oportunidad de aprender a leer ni escribir. Lito esta enseñandole los dos. No tienen nada pero estan felices. 

Subimos otra vez la canoa y fuimos a ver el resto de la ciudad. Le pregunté a Lito sobre las condiciones del agua en la comunidad. Me dijo que la mayoría de las casas tenían aceso a agua potable y que para los que no tenían aceso directo había programas de subsidio del gobierno para controlar los precios y hacerlo acesible a todos. Lito nunca me hablaba de los peligros de Belén. Le pregunté que porque todos me habían dicho no ir a Belén. Él me respondió que no sabía exactamente pero que creía que era por miedo. Me dijo que como cada lugar había que tener cuidado, que algo podría pasarme alla como cada otro lugar pero que también no podría pasar. Y me dijo que a veces había que correr reisgos. ¡Que genio!

Experiencias así me hacen pensar. De todo. Y me gusta pensar a veces. Es bueno para la alma. Después del tour nos despedimos y le mandé a Lito y su familia suerte y amor y me mandó cuidado en mis viajes. Y estaba feliz por haber corrido ese riesgo.

mi hogar

las calles de iquitos

ay acaí, como te amo.

atardecer desde mi ventana

las aceras en belén

medicamentos y tratamientos naturales y otras cosas del amazon en el mercado

cabezas de serpientes para suerte con un nuevo negocio

todavía no estoy segura de la seguridad de la canoa

el base de una casa

casas flotantes coloridas

Lito y su familia

el chico en navegando en el barquito

pirañas en el mercado

Rock 'n' Fall

Sometimes I find the idea of working to get better at something painful. I understand that practice makes perfect. But in certain things (mostly things that are difficult) I just want to be perfect without having to work too hard at it. What I mean to say is that I want instant gratification in extreme sports.

So goes my recent love affair with rock climbing. I just want to scamper up the most technically difficult walls easily without fear. But this, like any new undertaking, takes practice. Lots of practice. And bouldering, and climbing walls, and technique, and ridding yourself of fear, and falling. Nelle and I used to send all kinds of YouTube videos back and forth of people falling while climbing. We were definitely fearful of the same, and often joked about jumping off the wall in training just to test out the feeling of falling. Fear stopped us from really doing that. When I went on the climbing trip in January with Hernan, I slipped a few times, but again, didn't really experience a big fall. Hernan told us that some day we would need to have a big fall to rid us of the real fear of falling. Once we fell, we would realize it wasn't so bad, and our climbing styles would become less fear-based and we better climbers.

I arrived in Huaraz yesterday, and was stoked to do some bouldering and climbing. I had heard it was home to some legendary routes, and was excited to spend the whole 3 days improving my skills. I went and found a guide and signed up for a climbing trip for day two, and got directions to the closest bouldering field. In the blazing sun, my tiny rock shoes in hand, I climbed through the beautiful green countryside to the little town of Huanchac. Though I had been assured that there would be tons of climbers out, I found myself alone save some cows unhappily mooing as I moved into their territory. Three young boys from the town came over to teach me some boulder skills. It was really fun until I started climbing and then they only made me nervous. They left me to my own devices, but I realized it's kind of hard to boulder alone without cushions for landing gear. When someone else is with you, at least you have confidence that they might catch your fall, but with nothing between me and the rocky cow-shit-covered ground below, I lost my mo-jo. But I kept on, enjoying the peacefulness of the countryside until the clouds came and the rain washed it away.

After a restful night in front of the fireplace and a good night sleep last night, I was ready to get after it again this morning. I met my guide, Roosevelt. Luckily the other girl who signed up for the trip dropped out at the last minute, so I would have a private tour. We hopped a bus to Montgomery. Because of all the recent rain, the river below was quite high so we climbed to the top of the rock to set up camp. I watched, albeit confusedly, as he set up all the gear from above and then instructed me to rappel down and climb up, doing everything quite backwards. He explained that there was no way for him to belay from below due to the water, so he would do so from above. So I lowered myself down and began the climb up with really shaky arms and the water rushing below. But I mastered that wall, on all sides, and was feeling really rock climber.

So we cleaned the wall and climbed over the bridge, through the forest and to the second wall, a larger more difficult wall. We talked along the way about the importance of the first big fall. I said I knew I needed to fall, but would obviously continue to do everything in my power not to do so. I lead-climbed my way right up that second wall without problem, and was feeling pretty baller, shot-caller. Then Roosevelt suggested I try the left side of the wall, which was much tougher with smaller rock holds for my hands and feet. I was totally up for the challenge, climbing from a top rope in the middle of the wall up the left side. As I began the ascent, holding on to the nubby rocks for dear life, I started to get a little nervous. And as I got nervous I lost my confidence. And with the loss of confidence I lost it all. And I fell. And because I was climbing way to the left of the top rope, not only did I fall down, but I swung like a madwoman clear across the entire wall, arms and legs flailing and crashing into the rock. And not only hitting Roosevelt as he secured the rope, but with the gravity of my fall, lifting him clear off the ground until we collided in mid-air. It was not, by any means, graceful, but humbling and frightening. Once we lowered ourselves back down to earth, I sat on the ground doing breathing exercises to get ahold of myself as Roosevelt asked if I was ok. When I calmed down, I stood up, started clapping, and announced that I could continue climbing from then on without fear. And I attempted the climb again. But my body was not in agreement with fearless climbing, and again, I fell. Less hard this time, learning to use my hands and feet against the wall to break the fall. And I tried again, thinking the third time was a charm. And again, I fell. And then it wasn't fun. Because then as I climbed again I found that all I could think about was falling and how much it hurt and how much I didn't want to do it. When you lose the mental part, it all goes to shit. And shortly thereafter, I wore out my arms by not using my legs enough, and gave up on that left side. I climbed the right, falling again, and then finished up two more times up the middle, restoring my confidence. 

And then I was spent. And my knee and foot hurt from tough slams into the wall. And I decided that after my surf concussion last week and this, that maybe it would be best to decline the offer to go with Roosevelt tomorrow and climb tougher walls. I know I need practice, but I also have to remember that I'm not going to be a world-class rock climber overnight. And I also need to listen to my body. So tonight I will just read books in front of the fireplace, and tomorrow I will have a less adventurous day in adventureland.

rocks for climbing all for me

and the cows

look at these little guys

fashion plate

cozy

rappeling down for the first climb

NBD climbing right back up

looking for the holds

a little lead climbing

a view of the first wall and the barbed wire fence we had to scale to shimmy to wall number 2

Beach Bum

I've just returned from a glorious week at the beach. Man, I love the beach. I've been longing for the beach since I left Brazil almost a year ago. So I bussed it up to Mancora to get some sand and wave action and to chill out. Unfortunately, I unknowingly booked myself into the major party hostel, which is not really my style these days. Luckily, I have ear plugs and can sleep through almost anything and since it was right on the beach I didn't care too much. 

As all the girls in my room got gussied up every night to, they seemed baffled at my pajama-clad self crawling into bed so early. I actually was in bed early enough each night to hear the call for happy hour to begin at 9pm. But I had other fish to fry. 

My days went something like this. Every morning I woke up at 7:30 and headed down to the beach for an hour long yoga class. Then I would treat myself to the amazing S$15 breakfast at Green Eggs and Ham, overlooking the early morning high tide. After about an hour laying out on the beach I would retire to the hammocks for some reading/nap time. I had to make for lost sleep at night. Then around 3pm to meet my surf instructor, Pilar to catch some waves. At 5:30 back to another yoga class, beach sunset watching, and by 7pm, showered and looking for dinner, which I mostly ate on a curb in front of my favorite street vendors. By 8:30pm I was crawling into bed completely exhausted. And I was happy.

I usually fell asleep by meditating with my earplugs blocking as much sound as possible. But it's hard to sleep when the three surrounding clubs play competing blaring music until all hours of the morning.  But getting woken up wasn't always bad. One night my ear plug fell out and I woke up to a little lovers' quarrel outside my door. And by lovers' quarrel I mean this...

Drunk American guy to drunk American girl - "don't go back to your room. what's wrong? aren't we having fun?"

Drunk girl responds - "nothing. i'm fine." hesitating then continuing, "well, actually. it's just. that was just the worst sex I've had in my entire life."

door shuts in drunk guy's face. scene.

Poor guy thought his sex was on fire. She disagreed.

On my last day in Mancora I decided to test out my surfing skills solo. This decision resulted in a mean wipe out, a long board straight to the face and a concussion. I decided it was time to get out of Mancora and give up my surf dreams for the time being and bought a bus ticket to the more chill beach Huanchaco. I went to see some ruins upon arrival, but that whole concussion thing made me feel stupid and irritable and so I spent the next 2 days doing pretty much nothing which I quite enjoyed.

love the moto-taxis

fresh ceviche

my guilty pleasure. look at those pancakes!

sunset

Chan Chan ruins outside of Trujillo

fighting off the desert sun

fishing boats in Huanchaco

more sunsets

Dune Buggy Dreams

I either want to be a dune buggy driver, or have a job where I need a dune buggy driver to commute me to and from my job over the dunes every morning.

After several weeks at higher altitudes and a bit of rain, I decided it was time to head north to some warmer climates. First stop was Huacachina, a small desert oasis outside of Ica. The main attraction are the sand dunes that surround the small town, and I wanted a piece of the dune buggy/sandboarding action (and the perfect cloudless sunny weather and the pool).

got my safety belt on and ready to go

never seen anything like it

queen of the dunes

hard core - but don't be fooled i sandboarded on my stomach, not real legit snow-board style (remember snowboarding and i don't get along so well just yet)

about to go overboard

this guy was legit

sunset over the sand

coming to pick us up after an epic slide

A lot of stairs and finally Machu Picchu

Friday morning we were up early. We were told to leave the hotel by 4:30am to make sure we would reach Machu Picchu by 6am to meet our guide (Hugo couldn't accompany us our last day). I was a bit panicky when we still hadn't left at 4:45, and a few of us left then, in a hurry, in the dark. It's amazing hiking in the dark, when you can only see the shadows of the mountains and surrounding scenery. We started climbing the stairs at a rockstar pace, and quickly met up with the rest of the group. Turns out we could have slept in an hour extra because we made the whole hike/climb in an hour. Seriously one of the best workouts of my life, and we climbed it like Olympians. NBD. 

It's hard to describe seeing Machu Picchu for the first time in person. Of course I'd seen a million photos before getting there, but the magnitude in person is impresionante. The architecture is incredible, perfect. It's as if every stone was put in a place for a specific reason. After giving us a few moments to take it all in and snap some photos, Elvis sat us down for the history of the Incas and the great fortress. The most interesting thing for me about the history is that no one is EXACTLY sure what the history is. There are several theories about the Incas and what MP was and meant for their culture, but no one is certain. Some of the artifacts that could shed more light on the truth are housed in a private museum in the US started by the man who discovered the complex. The Peruvian government has just started in recent years to fight to get those artifacts back. 

After our tour with Elvis, we exited to have a snack before tackling Wayna Picchu, the huge hill to overlook all of MP. We climbed as a group the steep and at times daunting hill to be rewarded with sweeping views which gave weight to how big MP really is. We chilled up top until dark rain clouds rolled in. Elvis had warned us that rain would make the climb very dangerous, and we immediately and quickly headed down to safer ground. We got so lucky with the weather. It was clear and at times sunny in the morning and we had perfect views of everything. As it rained, we settled in for lunch. 

After lunch I wandered around a bit more before heading back down the hill to Aguas Calientes. Here I give the shout out to the woman at the bottom of the hill who let me use her bathroom and saved me the guaranteed embarrassment that would have been shitting my pants with no clean clothes remaining in the middle of nowhere. 

I headed back to the hostel and rewarded my hard work with a beer. I won't go into details about how my tour company almost ruined the whole experience by mucking up my train ticket back to Cuzco and then tried to tell me it was my fault, but the trip back was anything but smooth. Luckily I got back to a hot shower, and learned a lesson about paying a little more to use more legit tour companies.

It was an epic trip, and I'm glad I ended up on the Jungle Trek with good peeps.

the view at 4:45am

break neck pace

we made it!

look how perfect those stones are aligned

elvis getting a little off track talkin bout the devil

steep climbs hanging on

view from up top

taking it all in

this is the bathroom i was talking about