After sprinting to the plane in Atlanta, only making it because they held the plane for an extra 10 minutes, we were on our way. Overnight in Lima, no big deal, but we really got going in the Lima airport waiting to head up the hill, so to speak. Such, fresh, energetic faces. You'll see soon how simply carrying a child on your back is a luxury.
Experiencing Cusco, the capital of the Inca empire, we took in a lot of information and experience about the Inca and the culture that has been around this part of the world for centuries. First we find a llama (so many llamas...) at a weaving exhibit. Another continent, another animal to feed.
We took in the Sacred Valley before descending down into it. Note the jacket and the new hat bought at the weaving exhibit. You'll be seeing a lot of it given that from this point on we were never south of about 8,000 feet, and spent most of it well north of 12,000 feet.
To get perspective we saw our first salt "flats" in Peru. I suppose the pieces were flat but the hill was darn steep.
And some ancient sites that the Spaniards never found (therefore they are still intact).
OK, on with the star of the show. We jump on a night train to Machu Picchu. Well, Aguas Caliente, technically, the jumping off point for everything Picchu. A train ride filled with the first of dozens of card games of war between me and Levi.
Yes, we stood above a spiritual icon of an ancient empire. Whatever.
Hearing about the Inca from an indigenous guide was eye opening. That, and the different versions of the story later from the guides in both Bolivia and Chile. But the gist of the Inca was that religion was based on the natural world. If you were good with the earth, you were good with the Inca. Then a bunch of Spaniards showed up and totally screwed up the world with Christianity. Where morality was judged on... well... judgment. OK, this is no the space for anything heavy. We finish the experience back down in the town with a beer and a burger. And some of the worst pan flute music I've ever heard. It's pretty much the national instrument in Peru, it's in virtually everything. Here in this gringo restaurant, honest to god, we heard the pan flute version of I Will Survive.
Speaking of beer and a burger, our remaining time in Cusco was spent running up and down stairs and eating. But eating requires money. So Levi tried his luck at begging. Almost got a few pennies from this guy, but no luck. Seriously, though, he was cold on the terrace so we said he could go down to the street and stand in the sun until we were ready to go. But the spectacle of this young child on a random street was a strange sight for passersby. Especially with her highness looking down upon the scene from the terrace above.
Levi found some Spanish kids and joined them in a game of pacha. Tag. He was fast for about 35 seconds, and then collapsed, his heart almost beating out of his chest for want of oxygen.
Cusco also gave Levi his first opportunity to watch some Spanish TV. He found the first of several broadcasts (across all three countries) of the same Transformers movie.
Overall, one of the most remarkable things about Cusco (and subsequently most of where we went in South America) is the dog culture. Dogs run free. Not strays, just dogs that are left to roam the town during the day. They are all well fed and well mannered, and so photogenic. I had no idea when I took a picture of one that it would be so commonplace.
OK, another country now, and another 1,000 feet or so. Leaving the airport in La Paz we looked down upon the city, and it was one of the most beautiful cities I've ever seen. Then we rode for another 45 minutes down the hill into the city and somehow I just wanted to relax and do nothing. So that's what we did. Had a late lunch at an insanely busy Burger King 3 blocks from the hotel and spent the rest of the day watching movies and TV in the room at one of the most luxurious hotels in the entire country. Little did we know that our American decadence would serve us well, take it while you can get it.
We hit a train graveyard after flying to Uyuni, the first chance to mess around with perspective.
After pinching some coca leaves between our cheek and gum we arrive on the salt flats. Just wow. We were "lucky" that they were flooded, so we got a much bigger bonus in the experience. "Lucky" is in quotes because it virtually never floods in August, so this might spell a nasty future for this wonder that everyone should be so lucky to experience in person.
One of the remarkable things about Levi is his ability to read just about anywhere. In the rocking truck along the "roads" of the Bolivian high desert he can read. Here he takes a break on the sale flats to get in some reading while the guys fix the crossed wires in the truck when it wouldn't start. Yes, we're about to head off in the middle of nowhere....
Well, just to ratchet up the tension a bit, we blow a tire later in the evening as we head off of the salt flats. As we stood there and watched them change a tire in record time, the sky became a little red and the black line of night started to creep over from the East. The temperature dropped about 10 degrees in about 10 minutes as the sun set. This is going to be memorable if nothing else.
Along the way we took many of the perspective-less pictures this place is famous for. Enjoy.
We wake up in the most bizarre desert town high in the Bolivian desert. And stop at the last store for, oh, about 7 hours...
The Bolivian high desert is maybe the most interesting and unique place on earth.
But the rail service is notoriously unreliable. I don't think you're going to make your meeting, Levi.
As we rode along, the altitude continued to change. During the night it was incredibly cold, and during the day oxygen became a scarce commodity. Stopping for lunch at a weird roadside place (complete with a couple of foozball games for me and Levi), I take the opportunity to lie down and catch my breath. A new idea for a tagline for Bolivian tourism. Bolivia: It'll Leave You Breathless!
We continue to go up, and the "road" becomes more and more rough. At one pass we see some of the famous fairy tale rabbits, the viscacha. Historically shy of people (they are also known as the fairy tale rabbit, after all), I think the booming Bolivian tourism trade (at least 40 other people were within 400 miles of us on this day) has made them keenly aware that tourists bring food.
More interesting animals. Pink flamingos, who knew?
Before we bedded down for the night (yes, the sun set about 45 minutes after this photo was taken) we stopped by the famous red lagoon.
As the sun went down we arrived at our lodge for the night. The most rustic of the accommodations in the entire trip. No heat, and about -35 in the morning when we woke up at 4am to head out. The night before we dined on Oreos and a sausage-based main dish in the heatless dining room with about 40 other travelers who lucky enough to find what is the only accommodation for hours of harsh desert. Here, finally, at over 15, 000 feet, Levi felt altitude sickness. Big time. My toes couldn't get warm, despite a sleeping bag and 5 other layers. At 1:30am I woke, and listened to a dog bark from 2:15 until 3:15am. I couldn't breathe unless I lay perfectly still and facing the ceiling. I counted the minutes until 4am mercifully came and I could rise, pack and be ready to head for the Chilean finish line. Along the trip I would make small notes. Here is what I wrote in my bed that night: "It's 3am. A dog is barking outside. I can't breathe."
Immediately after departing we hit the worst "road" of the entire trip to see some geysers in the desert. Alexis looks so pleased that she was able to experience this natural wonder in the -40 degree morning of almost 17,000 feet.
This photo, I suspect (I was a little sleepy at the time) was taken at the very high point of the desert crossing, somewhere over 17,000 feet.
As we head down in altitude to "only" around 14,000 feet at the Chilean border, our spirits rise. We even find the connection between David, our driver, and a certain Slovenian uncle. Chile is right on the other side of that mountain.
Upon arrival at the border we find that the road on the Chilean side is closed. So we sit and wait for it to open. I can see the road - the paved road - that leads down to Atacama just a mile away. It's like Bolivia is taking one last chance to mess with me. Then Chile teamed up as we sat for an hour in the shuttle van at the Chilean checkpoint.
As we finally head out from the checkpoint and down the glorious several thousand feet of altitude down into the Atacama desert I reflect on the past three days. Going from the morning, 8 hours earlier, in the freezing cold, I already began so see things differently. It reminded me of when I was training for and running a marathon. During the effort, it takes everything you have not to quit. At mile 20 you want to puke, and there is no earthly reason to keep going. Then, when you cross the finish line, the first thought is how soon you can do it again. In a strange way, you crave the pain and hardship. Now, I'm not saying we'll be heading back to the Bolivian desert any time soon. But it is a memory I will cherish for the rest of the my life. In order to experience the highs, one needs to have lows. Strange the lows in this case came at over 17,000 feet, but I feel like it gave me more than any other vacation or trip I've taken in my life.
It also makes it easy to feel that way when you go to what turned out to be the best hotel experience of my life in San Pedro. One day removed from crying from altitude sickness in the freezing cold, here's Levi.
This was the trip where Levi really found his love of rocks. Maybe a geologist career, instead of a veterinarian.
And his ability to make pasta. Pity the chef planned for a delicious mushroom-based sauce. Levi's favorite!
Another South American dog was the perrita that followed us up the biking path. We gave her water from our cupped hands when we stopped to cool this pup. Here Levi needed a break (hey, it's still something like 8,000 feet) and this gal rushed back to him and jumped in his lap to comfort and encourage him. She was special.
Nothing like the hiking and leisure pace of being driven in a modern SUV on paved roads, complete with a table cloth late morning snack in the middle of nowhere to draw a contrast between our experiences over two weeks.
More laziness on the laziest horses in the world.
In the landscape here, compared the largely flat terrain of Bolivia, we play a different game. Spot the boy.
Can you also spot the giddiness?
We finally hit Santiago, which might be favorite city in the world. Another remarkable hotel, and a bunch of hours to wander around and do a bunch of nothing.
Here we are a couple hours away from heading to the airport to return home in the most wonderful of beer gardens at Krossbar. We'll be back.
And I hope to come back with those Peloza kids to meet them as they travel on their own, retracing some or all of the same path. I'll just meet them in Atacama, but I would love to see them take the opportunity to experience more of this in the way only a young adult can. If I could only turn back time and do this trip when I was 20. I'd somehow suck even more of the marrow from the experience, to paraphrase Thoreau.
It's a rare trip that leaves you with more than just great memories. This one left me feeling differently about the world. I feel like it's really much smaller than I thought. This feeling is based in the history that comes through in all these places. The religions they followed, the things people worry about. We are basically all the same, and we have been the same for centuries. For better or worse, at our core, not much has changed with all of the evolution we've seen over hundreds of years. I'm not sure if that should make me feel happy or sad, but I look at the world in a different way now. And that is the measure of experiencing something great.
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