Perú's litter box, Huacachina

After a few days up in the cold mountains and knowing that I was going to be hiking through the frigid heights of the Andes to get to Machu Picchu I decided to take a sabbatical to the hot arid desert of southern Perú. On the way south I spent a grand total of 107.24 minutes in Lima, and decided that it was at least 100 minutes too long. I have heard nothing good about the place and saw nothing from the bus or bus station to change my mind. After giving Lima the slip I rocked down to Ica.

I ended up in the little oasis town just outside of Ica called Huacachina. The small community is surrounded by sand dunes on all sides and in the center is a murky looking puddle of water with supposed curative properties. According to the taxi driver that took me out to town people from all over Perú go there to bathe in the water. He claimed that people with AIDS and cancer had both been cured by a quick dip. Fortunately I was in good heath and did not have even a stubbed toe to dip into the tonic water, not that I would have expected anything more than for it to have come out wet.

This is an interesting facet of the rural culture throughout all of Latin America. Because of limited medical support (especially in the rural areas) people have to believe in the holistic cures (i.e. non-medical related cures). I have no problem with the concept, but there is a huge problem when modern medicine and the non-traditional medicines clash. People will believe that their curandero grandmother knows more about medicine than a trained medical professional. There is a large problem with people not trusting doctors or hospitals. for them it ofent comes down to who are they going to believe: a doctor you can't understand because he speaks educated Spanish with words that are too big for the commoner, or a trusted relative and friend that has known you for life. Under those conditions it is easy to see why they often go with the more accessible, cheaper, and friendlier local cure from family.

I will admit having tried some of the local remedies. Most work on a limited basis. The anti-diarrhea worked like a charm for long enough to get me to the doctor's office 4 hours away. Most decongestants are good for a while. The anti-parasite medicine didn't work at all. My beef is when parents give their child non-traditional medicine and it doesn't work, and they still don't go to the doctor . I tried to convince a friend in my site that he had to go to the hospital one time because he was really sick. He looked at me and said that he would never go to a hospital because, "that is where people go to die." Unfortunately there is no way to argue and win (despite perfect logic) with some Latinos on this topic.

In any case, Huacachina was a great place to sit for a couple of days and do absolutely nothing. There was blue skies, comfortable dry heat, good ceviche, and a hammock that swallowed me for more than one afternoon. One of the days I borrowed a sandboard which is made to look like a ghetto snowboard that includes Velcro straps and no edges, and went out on the sand dunes for some action. It turns out that sand boarding is actually quite boring standing up, with little ability to turn or control the general direction. The speed issue was a non-issue because even on the steepest areas it was slow at best.

The last afternoon there I had the opportunity to go out on a dune buggy. This on the other hand was not boring. I had low expectations going in, expecting that some of the taxi/bus/chiva rides in Panama would reign supreme over a ride with a seatbelt in a dune buggy full of finicky tourists. The chiva rides still were scarier, but I have to hand it to our driver, it was brilliant and as fun as most rollercoasters. The sunset was epic and the stars over the never ending sand were impressively bright.

I felt a little bad about going to the area, especially since some may remember that back in August Perú experienced a rather large earthquake measuring 7.9 on the Ricketier Scale. The Ica was on the outer peripheral of the effected area, but due to cheap building materials the quake still had a devastating effect. Thousands died in Ica alone, and the memorial site constructed was rather impressive. In the end I told myself that the money that i was spending was helping people get back on their feet. In all, this time also helped me to relax and get back on my traveling feet as well. We had traveled hard to get down to Perú, and still had quite a ways to go to get to Cuzco. Relaxing on the oceanless beach turned out to be time well spent.

Head in the Clouds in Huaraz, Perú

Well Dave and I have separated again. I woke up in the bus to Lima to Dave standing over me with a knife I decided it was time for a break. I'm kidding of course, but Dave and I did parted ways as I jumped off in the middle of a town called Nowhere, Perú, clambered on to the next bus that came by, and ended up in Huaraz. Dave continued on to meet a friend who came to hike the Inka Trail with him. I will be meeting up with them in Cuzco in a few days.

Huaraz is the main jump off point for the Huaraz National Park. May-July is the high tourist season for climbing mountains and people from all over the world, especially Europeans, come to this area to take on the Andes. I had a great time wandering around town during local patron saint festival, bathing in hot springs, hiking around some pre-Inca ruins, and the highlight was a mountain bike ride though a glacier covered pass.

I woke up one morning a caught a bus up to the top of the pass headed east from Yungay over to the Amazon Basin. Before starting off on the decent, as is customary for every male, I had to pee on the other side of the pass so that I could race said urine to where the Amazon river meets the sea, where I hope to be in about ten weeks. After writing my name in the dirt (snow was too far away) it was just the gravel road guiding me back the way the bus had brought me. I had nothing but the Andes' glacier covered peaks to keep me company.

The road was all gravel and quite bad in parts. I was very glad to be going down for about 95% of the 45 km because at the top of the pass at 4767 m (15600 ft) just holding onto the bike was a hard enough work out. There was one section that required pedaling, and after three minutes of minimal work I couldn't buy a breath. In all my forearms burned to let go as my mind forced them to work. I was riding the brakes all the way through the 50-some-odd switchbacks, and by the end was ready to sit in the natural hot baths to soak away the pain, cold, and dirt that had collected on me all day.

The thing that was most curious to me about this area is how I was treated by the locals. I am used to being single out and looked at, over-charged whenever possible, asked for money, and generally put in the spotlight. In most tourist locations upon seeing a gringo generally a) don't stare as much or b) better disguise their looking. Not here! One might have thought that they had never before seen someone as white as I am (and I'm about as white as they come). I was asked several times to pose in a picture with random Peruvians, complimented for having blue eyes, yelled at, gawked at (different than staring), had my arm hair rubbed, and chased by kids while on the bike. Most of this stuff had happened to me before. The quantity of times it happened in a short period was what made me notice, because even in the depths of the Panama I was never followed so closely. I guess it is also different when you are familiar with the people staring -as in Panama, and when they are complete strangers -as in Perú. Basically it surprised me that a town with so much gringo tourism would be so shocked by my presence. Enough of me ranting, I'm off to Ica to see some sand.

Final Breakdown on Ecuador:

Country of Origin: Colombia
Total time in country: 14 days, but only 6 on the main land.
Music: We have now entered the land of Andean music. This means charangos (10 string guitar), reed flutes, and sheep skin drums that the natives play. They could raise the dead to dance with their lively beats.
People: Galapagos people are a little tourist jaded, country folk are the same in all countries, and I think the artisans in the market would have sold their own children at ¨an extra special price just for you¨ (after all the kids are their handy-work).
Transport: Efficient, safe, and comfortable to the point of being boring.
Food: Exotic fruit juices with every meal, grilled potatoes to make a Texan jealous, and a variety of maize, chocho (a bean like food that locals can't get enough of), and the baked goods like bread and desserts are probably not French quality but they beat most of western Europe for sure. Club beer is the best beer I've had in Latin America, and has won several awards in European tastings.
Landscape: Variety is the spice of life and Ecuador has got it.
Safety: People said Quito was not safe, but we had no problem running around town on public transport and taxis. Outside of town the only danger is the old man that will not let you get off at your stop because he wants to talk more. Zero danger on Galapagos.
Gas prices: 1.48 USD / gal (Ecuador uses the dollar)
Surprised by: We did not realize how much there was to do just in the greater Quito area til we got there. There turned out to be quite a bit that we could have done in country but did not get to. 25 roses cost $1, and when they are in season can be found 50 for $1.
Final word: The Galapagos are not cheap, but the rest of the country is. Ecuadorians are use to dealing with tourists, even those that don't speak a word of Spanish. Any biologist, pretend biologist, or person that thinks flowers and animals are ¨pretty¨ could find something to love about Ecuador.
Next stop: Perú

Ecuador, Ferris Bueller Style

Because the camera worked overtime in the Galapagos I gave it the Thanksgiving Weekend off so that it would not go on strike like the Writer's Guild. In the mean time, there are more Galapagos pictures interspersed throughout this article...

We didn't end up spending a whole lot of time in Ecuador. After the seven nights on the Galapagos we had to get through the rest of the main land in less than a week. This brings me back to an old hero of mine, Ferris Bueller. The guy who worked harder to not go to school than he would have in school would have been proud of what we accomplished in the short time we had. Trying to do Ecuador like Ferris had done to Chicago turned out to be a formidable, nay impossible tasks, but due to previously arranged engagements in Perú, it had to be done.

One of the details that was most striking to me was the variety of terrain in Ecuador. In a country the size of Nevada there is intolerably hot rain forest, active volcanoes, the Galapagos island, steep Andes mountains that collect snow, beautiful tropical beaches, cloud forest, national parks with the highest species density in the world, and all the land is fertile thus food variety is expansive. This is only the tip of the iceberg of the highlights. There are plenty of other places all over the country worth visiting. The following is the short list of the places that we did get to...

Otavalo: A picturesque town at the base of the northern Andes which has a remarkable artisan market. A hagglers paradise, this market literally takes over the town with people selling their goods. One of the refreshing things about this area was that most of the products are made by the artisans themselves. I was recently disappointed in a market (which shall remain nameless) to find tags with 'Made in China'. Otavalo market still seemed remarkably true to its indigenous roots.

Quito: I tend to be rather critical of cities, and Quito is no exception.
There was nothing spectacular about the city itself, with one very large exception. We were put in contact with a family, a friend of a friend, and accepted us into their house not once but twice. Dave and I used the house as a pre and post staging for the Galapagos, and these people gave us food, guidance, a bed, shower, and laundry facilities for no other reason than we share a common friend and they are exceptionally nice people. There is no way we could thank them enough. So as a way of trying I have posted a picture of some of them making funny faces (seems fair to me).

Upon returning to Quito we met up with our Irish friend from the Ciudad Perdida trip -recall if you will ¨tirty tree and a turd¨. He was staging to do the Galapagos and had some questions because we had just finished. After lunch we decided to wander down to the stadium to watch the Perú - Ecuador World Cup Qualifier. We had no tickets, but were not worried about getting in as Ecuador had lost its first three games. Needless to say, we could not get into the game because we were not willing to pay $25 for a scalped ticket (face value $8) to what was most likely a meaningless game. We thought we would just go watch the game at the pub. BUT, the game was not on in the pub! We found this to be a grave injustice and indicative of Latin American backwards thinking. So we spent the next two hours outside the stadium trying to understand why there were empty seats in the stadium, and we were still standing outside with a $20 bill and a beer each.

Saquisilí: After our failure at the game, we packed up early Thanksgiving morning and headed south, Our morning stop was at a market in Saquisilí, which was different to the Otavalo market because it was more centered around local buyers. There were still artisan goods. As I was still feeling the pinch from the last market, I roamed the streets asking about prices of llamas and sheep, and if they came properly documented so that I could send them back to the states (llamas $50, short-hair sheep $25, documentation? -I'm a jerk). We also made our first attempt to find what we wanted our Thanksgiving meal to be, roasted guinea pig (cuy). It is a true delicacy in the Andes, but after striking out we moved on in the afternoon to...

Baños: A popular tourist town for foreigners and paisanos alike. This mountain town is carved into the side of a hill and has natural hot spring baths at the base of a waterfall. It was described by someone in the following way, ¨Well I have been in uglier places,¨ which may be the understatement of the month. Everything about the place was charming to the point of being too perfect. There was not a scrap of garbage to be found, all stores were immaculately decorated, and even the parks and plazas had been nurtured and tended to perfection (for me to notice this is noteworthy, I normally could care less). We spent the afternoon soaking in the hot water, and asking around for our Thanksgiving cuy to no avail.

We move on to Riobamba as one final attempt at a guinea pig Thanksgiving. We also considered having Chinese food until we realize there would be no 'Thanksgiving Carols' for the waiters to butcher (Think: ¨Fa-ra-ra¨ from A Christmas Story). To make a short story shorter we had no luck there either we said, ¨To Hades with this country, we be out. Peace!¨ (We didn't actually say it, but it might have been funny if we did.) With that we jumped on an overnight bus and woke up at the border to bid a fond farewell to Ecuador despite the lack of local cuisine. With that we closed the book on Ecuador, and I on this article.

From the Land of Clockwise Flushing Toilets, The Galapagos Islands

Like Bevis and Butthead, I could have stood in Quito, Ecuador flushing the toilet for what could have been days just to watch it spin clockwise. After two years without a flush toilet (or water) the novelty of such an invention is breath-taking, not to mention actually watching the Coriolis Effect pull the water in the bowl in the clockwise direction. This opposed to counter-clockwise spin in the northern hemisphere where up to this point I had spent my entire life. Fortunately, Dave stopped me before too long and we swept away to the Galapagos Islands.

Arriving at the Galapagos by plane, and like a Sula Nebouxii plunging after a fish we dropped on to the tarmac of a desert but not deserted island 1000 km from the nearest continent. The Galapagos has been a lot of things to a lot of people over the years, from tortoise hunting ground for whalers, to Charles Darwin's biological wet dream, to WWII strong hold of the USA, to the former Ecuadorian penal colony (hey get your mind out of the gutter), and now is the cornerstone of the Ecuadorian tourism industry.

The biologist's Mecca has proven to be filled with animals (as advertised), but without a masters in biology or a guide who has such a degree (most don't) it can be rather hard to pick out endemic animals or plants. This has not stopped Dave and I from running around growing pretentious beards to fit in and calling each other professor. We kept ourselves busy spending so much time (and money) swimming with the sea turtles, riding bikes and horses through the arid desert countryside looking for tortoises that needed to be saved after wandering into the road (we actually had to carry it), eating cacti fruit, gunless flamingo hunting, carrying a cow skull through lava tubes, and watching boobies; the blue-footed kind... as apposed to the red-footed variety (I told you to keep your mind out of the gutter).

We discovered there is actually an bird species called boobies the genius/species being Sula Nebouxii. There are several different varieties, and are about as common as a seagull along the ocean. As Dave and I were walking along the beach on Isabella (the big island) we may have stumbled across a conversation that Darwin and the first mate of the ship would have had when they were on the island around 150 years ago. As we were walking along there was a whole flock, gaggle, legion, band, or whatever it is you call several hundred boobies in one spot. In any case, they were fishing near shore in a very entertaining way. They would take off from the water little by little, gather together 50 ft off the ground, all tuck wing, and as one unit would kamikaze head first into the water. Dave and I stood mesmerized by the aerobatics for several minutes. I kept thinking, Blue Angels eat your heart our. When Darwin and the first mate saw this the following conversation ensued...

First mate: Have you ever seen anything that cool?
Darwin: Maybe the Coriolis Effect?
First mate: No way man!
Darwin: well... Maybe, boobies.
First mate: Yeah, possibly
Darwin: These guys sure deserve a cooler name than just the trite Sula Nebouxii that they go by now. I think I shall call them boobies.

In all seriousness, the water life turned out to be far more interesting than the land life. The highlight was our trip to Bartolomé. We almost skipped the quintessential Galapagos day trip as over done, but ended up going. It is now easy to see why everyone does it. It's worth doing! There are many large schools of fish, sharks, penguins, the occasional turtle, and and sea lions that are not as jaded to tourists as the locals are. For as lumbering and inept as sea lions are on land they are the exact opposite in the water, and love to play with snorkelers. Their favorite game is chicken. They'd take a breath over 50 ft away and swim directly at someone only to discover at 15 ft that they were going to have to move because we humans are the oafish, ungraceful fools in the water. If someone was floating around it was also common for them to come up and nip at fingers, toes, or fins. It was always playful, like a dog, and it never hurt.

When we got to Galapagos Dave and I both thought it was rather unfortunate that neither one of us was certified to scuba-dive. We thought that being in the Galapagos with only a mask and snorkel was like driving a go cart in the Indy 500, playing the mouth harp in an orchestra, racing the Tour de France on a unicycle, performing a laser light show with a head lamp, sailing a Sunfish in the America's Cup, coming out of the gates at the Kentucky Derby on a rocking horse, or protecting a 'No Fly Zone' with a sling shot. Sorry about the Tom Robbins moment. As it turned out non-divers do miss out, but not much because of the high cost to scuba, also because there were still plenty of people that did not even get into the (albeit cold) water.

The biggest (and I do mean big) exception to that rule is the land tortoises. Decedents of the sea turtle millions of years ago, the land tortoise walked out of the water one day on a deserted island to never return. Whalers used to carry them back to their boats and put them in storage upside down where they could live, unable to flip back over, for over a year. It is speculated that they can live up to 400 years old (right-side up), but this is still a guess at this point. For as large and slow as they are they still get around quite well, and if they ever get tired, they can and do flop down and take a nap wherever.

One of the down sides to the Galapagos is because it is so famous, there are relatively few secrets left there to the casual observer (supposedly important discoveries are made there often, but again, interesting to the specialists in the field). This and the cost of the Galapagos are far higher than most backpackers are willing to pay. The park entrance fee is $100, and the rumor mill is putting out gossip saying that this cost may go up to $250 next year. As it is I spent around $900 to get there, lived for a week, and did something cool every day. Before getting to the Galapagos I had spend maybe $900 in the four weeks since leaving Panama. Darwin's theory of Natural Selection is also valid in economical situations. Many backpackers are selected not to go, and as costs go up the naturally selected are only going to become richer (read: whiter), and ironically not as able to share in all that the Galapagos has to offer as most of the older people were not scuba certified and did not spend much time in the water.

Galapagos is doubtlessly original, the Louvre of the biological world, its kind of ugly, and yet beautiful in its own way. The desert islands are surrounded on all sides by at least 100 km of water, the El Niño effect is just off shore of Ecuador yet the water is as cold as the Oregon Coast in places, penguins live here (on the equator!), animals are stuck on the hostile island terrain created by volcanoes. It is quite a set of contradictions and a dynamic history both before and since man has arrived. Despite no surprises, it should be a list of top five on the places to visit before dying.

Final Breakdown On Colombia:

Country of Origin: Panama
Total time in country: 19 days (I would have liked it to have been closer to 190 days).
Music: Excellent, vallanato like Guiness is just better in it country of origin.
People: Friendly, we had two different taxi drives stop and appologize for not being able to pick us up (thanks guys, but I think there will be another taxi).
Transport: Standard Latin American late, but clean and comfortable
Food: My God! Sopa with every meal, genius! Papas rellenas are great fried food on the go.
Landscape: The three sharp mountain ranges cut your eyes if you are not careful, but it would be a good way to go blind.
Safety: All locations that were said to be dangerous had Colombian army personal around.
Gas prices: 6,500-6,800 Pesos / gal (3.25 - 3.40 USD/gal) despite neighboring Venezuela being around $0.18 per gallon, cheaper than water!
Suprised by: It was thought that Colombia would be like a volitile stock: High risk with high reward. Colombia was all reward with very little risk.
Final word: Colombia has set the bar really high for the rest of South America. It is a must visit for anyone with survival spanish capabilities.
Next stop: Equador

The Coolest Archeological Site I had Never Heard Of, San Agustin

As we were riding toward the Equadorian border we decide on a wim to stop in Pompayan because the author of the guide book had really enjoyed it. Dave and I thought it was just mediocre, but we learned about San Agustin a mere 120 km (65 miles) away. Despite the relative closeness the road was horrible, and the town takes 7-8 hours to get to. Upon arriving one immediately notices the throw-back quality to the humble town. Horses are still a major if not the major form of transporation, vaceros roams the streets growling at tourists, and the colonial buildings in the steep mountains give it a truely unique feel.

Our guide liked to call himself Jerry Lewis, and lived up to his name by keeping Dave and I in stiches as we galloped around on horses to some of the known areological sites. The quote of the day was when we passed a guide that had tried to offer his services after we had made arrangements with Jerry. The man glared at us in his machismo way, and after we were out of ear shot Jerry remarked, ¨That guy thinks he has three balls.¨

We had a barn burner troting around the area listening to Jerry to jabber in the seven languages that he spoke and talking about which eight tounges he wants to learn next (and he will learn them). We visited different parts of the World Heritage Site including the Chakira (where the famous singer got the inspiration for her name) , several people's backyards, and the national park that was better groomed than some of the golf courses I've been on.


The major draws to the area are the statues and etchings in rock that Dave and I mocked and for which will probably go to H E Double hockey sticks. There are some that are from the same time as the Egyptian Empire over 5000 years ago. The Incas came to conquer the ancient culture just before the Spaniards landed in the 1500s. The advance culture knew that the Incas were going to destroy their relics so they buried them in order to protect them. This preserved them very well indeed because many of them are still in excellent if not flawless condition. Several still bear the original paint that was put on them hundreds of years ago as the statues still stand guard over the tombs of the people they resemble.

Of the 650 sq km area that the San Agustin area covers, only 10% of the area has been investigated for artifacts. Due to financial restrications there is currently no one working to dig up more, nor are there plans to. With the extended bronco-like bus ride, the alluring counrtyside, and the sui generis people the archeologists -when they do come- might find themselves in the same Hotel California situation asking themselves the same question that Dave and I asked, ¨Do we really want to leave?¨

¨She Don't Lie, She Don't Lie, She Don't lie, Cocaine.¨

One of the first things people think about when Colombia is mentioned is the world leader cocaine production. It was impossible to move around this country without thinking about it, being offered it, and looking for the influences (good and bad) that it has had on the country. Before leaving on one of the hiking days to the Teyuna there was a ¨double secret tour¨ from a local on cocaine producer. Before reading further I want to make it absolutely clear that although I did see and watch part of the process, this is in no way suppose to endorse using cocaine. If fact, if I have done my job well, the article will uninspire the reader to try the ¨party powder¨.

The history of cocaine is really interesting, and the more I read the crazier it gets. During our hike there were coca (the plant) farms everywhere. They were never immediately recognizable from the paths, but we could see whole hillsides covered with the guandu bean looking bush. Coca itself is not a dangerous substance. Dave and I have both chewed the leaves with lime like the locals all over S. America (it can also be turned into a tea), and the only thing that we noticed was it aliviated hunger, and it feels like you get a boost of energy. The Incas have also used it to help mitigate the effect of altitude sickness, and there are some have compared it to chewing tobacco. From my limited internet research there does not seem like the chewing the plant is dangerous, and there are cosmetic and non-drug chemical uses of coca internationally.

As soon as one begins to add chemicals and process the coca into cocaine is when laws are broken. We were taken to a lab deep in the jungle by a campesino (read: country bumpkin) where we were shown 100% of the process to make cocaine paste, and 95% of the process to make the more recognizable cocaine that is inhaled through the nose. We were told before we left the the price of the tour included a free sample if we wanted it. If I had had an interest in trying cocaine in any form before, I assure you that desire has been quelled. I don't understand all the chemistry that went into the process, but the guy who was making it was drunk to the point of incomprehension. Not to mention all the nasty chemicals that were added incluing: a paint powder base (for the calcium), sea salt, iodine based cleansing agent, caustic soda, bi-carbonate, gasoline, and sulfuric acid (that's right, de-oxidizing of steel, melt your skin on contact, SULFURIC ACID). I will admit that in carefully measured proportions the process could be safe, but when was the last time that a drug producer cared about the safety of the end user (or was sober)?

Most of the farm owners get the cocaine to paste form. The mafia controls the actual cocaine (for the nose) production. The paste sells for $1000-2000 per kilo and after a short process involving either acetone (fingernail polish remover) or ether yields a powdery white cocaine worth roughly 20-30 times the paste price.

Needless to say our guides insobriety was enough to scare me away from trying it right then, and all the poisons used to make the paste (which one must smoke) scared me away from wanting to try ever. It was a sobering experience, and I think I will stick with my drug of choice, beer.

A few facts about cocaine:
-1000 kg of leaves produce 1 kg of cocaine paste.
-95% purity is considered to be the upper limit of cocaine quality (5% of other chemicals listed above).
-Most drug dealers cut in aspirin into cocaine to get more product at a relatively cheap cost.
-Half a million people in the USA use cocaine weekly.
-Over 28-percent of all emergency room visitations for drugs involve cocaine.
-4 out of every 5 $100 bills has trace amounts of cocaine on it (although it is believed to be transfered easily from bill to bill instead of each bill being used to snort coke individually).

Medellin: Where the Women Are Gorgeous and the Men Have Mullets

Can some please explain me something... The women here in Medellin are world renown for their beauty. I was skeptical at first, but after a short time in the area I discovered that indeed the rumors were true! But what I couldn't get over was how many men had mullets! as Billy Cosby once said, ¨Someone forgot to tell them not to do that.¨ I think the Cos was talking about neck tattoos, but he should have been talkin' bout mullets. Not only were there mullets, but it was a whole class and style of haircut. There were a whole range including the rattail mullet, the ¨it's really short I'm not sure, no wait, defiantly a mully¨, the ¨I'm bring the mullet back into style¨ mullet, the mohawk mullet, and the one that gets creativity points, the dread lock mullets.

There is definitely something in the water because the women generally speaking are jaw-droppingly beautiful. Dave especially heard the Siren's call, and after a long weekend we finally were able to tear ourselves away from the Island of the Lotus Eaters. We stayed at a hostel which was basically a frat house where everyday was game-day and there was actually a dance move call ¨too high¨. Average bedtime was at sunrise, and someone got mad at me for playing the guitar (outside) after 12 noon because ¨everyone¨ was trying to sleep.

Medellin does not have much to offer the average traveler except a heck of a party on a holiday weekend. As the second largest city in Colombia with roughly 2.2 million people Medellin is a city built in a valley as the industrial capital of Colombia. It is at the heart of the famed Colombian coffee (Read: mafia run cocaine) region. How else would one explain the fact that one few metro rail-car in all of South America is located here if it weren't for the textiles and coffee.

All in all, Medellin was a great stopover and probably a good substitute for Bogotá which we will skip. Colombians know how to throw a good party, and I can say in all earnest that I am glad to be out of there with no illegitimate children and more importantly all my hair still in its un-mullet style.

Indiana Olson in the Ciudad Perdida

Well we figured out within 48 hours of being in Colombia that we may not have come at the right time. Why not you ask? Well, we decided to roll in on a Tuesday before a dry weekend (ie no alcohol - gasp). Why was it a dry weekend you ask? Well, because there was a major election cycle coming due, and they wanted to make sure that no one was drunk when their candidate lost. Drunk Colombians taking out their political rage on the nearest Americans would be bad, but no alcohol is almost equally as bad. So Dave and I decided that if we were going to torture ourselves we were going to do it right and in a safe area. So we signed up without reading the contract and were swept away on a six day trek through the jungle to Ciudad Perdida (Lost City) into the heart of the Paramilitary strong hold. We would find out after the fact from our guide that a portion of the price we paid actually went to make sure we did not get kidnapped by the Paramilitary. How did the guide know that a portion of the money went to the Paramilitary? Because he worked for them of course! But more about that later.

First, an interjection on the current status of the Paramilitary and the Guerrillas in Colombia. Traditionally the Paramilitary is a band of soldiers hired by rich Colombians (read drug lords) as mercenaries to fight anyone including the Colombian government and to police the coca producing areas. The Guerrilla has its roots in politics on the communist side, but these days is basically the same thing as the Paramilitary. The big difference these days is that Guerrilla's drug of choice is heroin instead of cocaine. These two factions are at odds against one another, but mostly keep to themselves.

Enough about politics, the group we went with was awesome! In total there were eleven people on the trip, two of which were host country nationals in our guide (Omar) and cook (Ever). Of the nine on the tour, nine different countries were represented if you include Peace Corps countries (which I do). Canada, USA, Peace Corps Panama, Peace Corps Bolivia, Spain, Germany, Chile, Belgium, and Ireland were all represented, a majority of which spoke Spanish very well. I estimate that 50% of the conversations were in Spanish and a large portion of them were interesting cultural exchanges on vulgar slang. The others topics ranged from how the cook survive a fall down a waterfall, drugs, the likelihood of survival, and how to trick the Irish guy into saying ¨They're always after me lucky charms.¨ We had no luck with the lucky charms quote, but we got a consolation when he mistakenly said thirty three and a third which came out ¨Tirty tree and a turd.¨ In addition to being an interesting group we all turned out to be pretty good hikers reaching Ciudad Perdida in the rain on day three.

When I say it was raining, I'm not talking Oregon drizzle, I'm talking about time to build an ark type rain. Dave and I were lagging behind with the guide asking questions at the base of the city when the PC Bolivia guy comes running up saying Ever (the cook) had fallen down a waterfall and had not been found yet. We went running up and as I looked at the waterfall I immediately though that he was dead. The waterfall has to be crossed to get to the camp where we stayed, but under normal circumstances there is a shallow pool that can be waded through with ease. At this time, with the current state of rain, it was awash with nothing but white water that cascaded back down to the river where we had begun our assent an hour earlier. I stood their dumbfound, knowing that I could not cross where he had tried, and looking down the water knowing that he was dead. After another 15 minutes of searching he was discovered in the middle of the torrent 70 ft below, and still precariously hanging over another series of cascading and rocky waterfalls. If that was not enough, he was in the middle of the whitewater holding on with one hand to a rock and holding on to the 60 lb bag of food with the other. When the rope was thrown to him, he started to tie the bag of food on to the rope. He was told to abandon the food (all the food for the entire party) and save himself, which undoubtedly was the right call to make. He was pulled back up the steep embankment without the food or his pants. I carried back to a house we had passed on the way. He was in obvious shock, injured, and wearing only a tank-top. As I carried him back to the house I asked him how he survived, and between his chattering teeth all he said was ¨I held on to the rock.¨ Back at the house, we stripped him, dried him as best we could, and put him under 4 sleeping bags that we had. After a couple of minutes of watching him in uncontrollable shock, Dave made the ultimate sacrifice and crawled into bed with him to share his body heat. It may not have been necessary to do, but then again, no one knew, maybe it was necessary. Whether or not it was necessary is irrelevant, I think Dave enjoyed it a little too much.

We sat around talking for the next hour about the fact that there was no food, a hurt cook, and a guide who had no idea what to do. Rescue methods were discussed, but amazingly, within an hour of tumbling off the waterfall, Ever was up and walking around. There was another group at the site we were going to, and they were kind enough to share their dinner and breakfast the next day.

Needless to say the next morning we only got the abbreviated version of the tour of Ciudad Perdida. The original name in the native dialect was Teyuna and the first people to rediscover it called the area the Verde Inferno (green hell). Before our stomachs started us back to the previous camp 6 hours away Omar showed us some of the most interesting land marks of the city that was built on a mountain surrounded by primary forrest. It was still interesting to hear about how the indigenous had used the city as a refuge/last stand/hospital as the Spaniards came pushing inland up the mountains. They finally abandoned the city that covered a mountain because they thought it was bad luck and cursed as they could not cure the new diseases that rampaged though killing close to 90% of the population. Because the city was abandoned before the Spanish reached it, the knowledge of its presence was lost to history until 1975. Anthropologists and archaeologists would later discover the entire hillside city that was home to more than 3000 FAMILIES, gold, running water, and mill stones. There is still much more to be discovered in the area, but the descendants that did survive still prise the area as a sacred ground (they alway knew it was there) and are generally opposed to further excavation.

The indigenous that are from this area are a prideful bunch and are generally opposed to ¨westernization¨. They still choose to live in the small primitive communities without any of the creature comforts including cheap clothing, medicine, not to mention electronics. that they could buy in a near-by town. This flabbergasts me because it is the exact opposite reaction all the indigenous groups in Panama.

Fortunately we had left food at all of the camps for our return trip, so in all we only missed maybe two meals (out of a potential 5). On the last night of our adventure, we had found some cold beer, consumed it and were ready for bed. I was in my hammock trying to sleep when the guide Omar showed up with more beer. Not willing o turn down a free beer, Dave, the Irish guy, and myself all got back to drink a beer and echar cuentas. Omar, as we discovered on the first day, is a jovial short Colombian with a quick Scooby-Doo laugh, a jokester, a free talker all rolled into his lovable five gallon beer gut. It was at this point that we extracted the information about a portion of our payment going to the Paramilitary and him having worked for the Paramilitary for several years. The most baffling part of the whole encounter (Dave and I have discussed it at length) was not that he had worked for them, but that he could talk about being in gun battles it so nonchalantly, and the direct follow up was him talking about how he liked to bicycle with his kids to go get ice cream. Personal safety is a whole different ball game in this area of the world. It is something that I don't understand but was happy that $35 was all that it took to keep me from knowing.

There is still a chapter left unwritten about our trip, but my research is still incomplete on the topic, and will come at a later date. All in all it is always interesting to reflect as I tell a story afterwards (especially a true one like this). When all this was happening it did not seem so heart poundingly thrilling, in fact most the time i was numb from the tiredness of walking. There was no background music, narrator, or disembodied voice. There were only the background noise of the jungle and the thoughts in my head which seemed normal, unidealized, and unromantic at the time. I realize only now what an unforgettable experience it really was.