Saturday, April 16, 2011

Getting Ready to be Unfaithful Again

It’s an ego boost for a girl from the United States to buy bras in metric sizes--85D? really?--but that wasn’t the most satisfying aspect of this morning’s errands. I realized as I walked home that I had managed to drop off the laundry, get cash, buy thread, pick up roquefort empanadas, print out bus tickets and get new intimate apparel all in Spanish—halting, stumbling, checking-the-dictionary Spanish, to be sure, but without resorting to a word of English. But even that wasn’t the most satisfying part.  
The best thing was that I didn’t have to stop and think once about where to go to do my mundane Saturday morning tasks. After a month in El Bolsón, we’ve found the cheap laundry service, located the sewing goods store, learned which stand at the three-times-a-week market has the best empanadas and tortas verduras--and which stand is second-best in case the first one is out. We’ve got our favorite bakery (Marcos, where even the plain grain crackers are hard to stop eating), our favorite waiter (the young guy at Zucchini with the fabulous smile, who started giving us a discount once it was clear we’d be regulars), and a whole pastry case at La Nona that we’ve barely begun to sample.

The surprisingly good beet mayonnaise, which comes with pre-dinner bread around here.
 
Naturally, it’s time to move on. We’ll get on the bus again Monday and head north to Mendoza. I’m definitely excited about it—my daughter and Rie’s son will meet us there, and between the vineyards and the live music and the high mountains and the salsa contests, we should have a blast.
But I’m realizing that this long-term travel thing is kind of like serial dating. You come into a new town all excited and a bit at sea, and getting to know it is both fun and a lot of work. You’re charmed by some aspects, dismayed by others, and maybe you feel a little bit disloyal to the last town because you can’t help but notice that this one has more dramatic scenery.
Then slowly you get comfortable. You learn your way around. You know what to expect and enjoy, what not to bother even looking for. There are secrets yet to be revealed, for sure, but just at the point you start feeling at home, you’re off again, abandoning the now-familiar relationship and starting fresh in the next town.
I know just how lucky we are to be taking this trip. But I’m realizing that at heart I’m a monogamous sort of person, even when it comes to travel. And though I’ll probably always be eager to see more of the world’s wonderful places, I can never move on without a pang.

(KK)

Monday, April 11, 2011

On Board the Bahía Azul


“Instead of another bus ride, you could have a bit of an adventure.” Back in February, our friend Carolyn—the same friend who suggested the Isla Navarino trek—laid out our options for getting to the jumping-off point for that trek: Puerto Williams, Chile. 

Naturally, we picked the adventure, a 36-hour ferry trip from Punta Arenas, Chile, through part of the Strait of Magellan, among rough-edged islands and along the Beagle Channel to Puerto Williams. Early in March, we spent a couple days hanging around Punta Arenas—a city of aging mansions, metal-faced shacks, elaborately coiffured trees and Bon Jovi tribute shows--waiting for the once-a-week sailing. Then we took a colectivo to the docks to find our boat, the Bahía Azul.

Somehow we expected it to be bigger, maybe with a built-up prow for forging through the ice. But we got on board anyway. (MK)

And after a bit of a false start--out into the channel, back to the dock, out into the channel again--we headed south on the Strait of Magellan. (MK)



The next day started out gray and cold. . . .  (KK)

. . . but even though our little cabin was snug, being up on deck was irresistible. (KK)


There was much more sunshine as we headed into the Canal del Ballaneros. (KK)


After Punta Arenas, we saw not a single human on shore the whole trip--and not a single house, road, light or cellphone tower. (MK)


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A Chilean navy ship--one of only a handful of other boats we passed. (KK)


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We hugged the shore of Tierra del Fuego for much of the trip. (MK)




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On the second evening, a fishing boat moored alongside, and all of us passengers hung over the rail, taking pictures like paparazzi (KK).


While one crew member held the mooring rope, the rest traded fish for cigarettes, toilet paper, booze and dry cereal. (KK)


The second morning, we arrived in Puerto Williams. (KK)
Calm and safe after a memorable trip. (KK)



Saturday, April 9, 2011

Perú: The Greatest Hits

OK, maybe these aren't the greatest hits—some of the best times we had in Perú were in and around Chachapoyas. But in mid-February, we spent ten days visiting some of the country’s other beautiful and fascinating places: Cusco, Ollantaytambo, Machu Picchu, Raqchi, Lago Titicaca and Lima. The trip was such a whirlwind that we’re only now getting the pictures up.




At the ruins of an Incan palace, Cusco. (Noemí Huañec Casa)



The upside to long bus trips is that you can meet some cool people, like Noemí. A tour guide in Cusco, she was kind enough to spend her afternoon off showing us around Sacsayhuamán, the temple/fortress complex high above the city. (KK)





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Puma-faced lamp post on Cusco's main plaza. (KK)



Plaza de Armas, Cusco. (KK)



Ollantaytambo, where the Inca-built water system still works. (KK)



Craft market, Ollantaytambo. (KK)



Ollantaytambo (MK)



At the Ollantaytambo train station.



The roaring Urubamba from the train to Machu Picchu. (KK)



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An unexpected Machu Picchu resident, a chinchilla. (MK)



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We climbed Huayna Picchu, the tall peak behind the city, a steep trail with encouraging signs along the way. (KK)



A long way down to the Urubamba. (KK)



We traveled back to Cusco and then from there to Puno, stopping along the way at Raqchi, an Incan village in the Sacred Valley. (MK)



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Vendors at the Raqchi market. (KK)



And their kids playing under the market tables. (KK)



The altiplano on the way to Puno. (MK)



From Puno, we took a boat trip on Lago Titicaca. (KK)



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Approaching one of the floating islands. (MK)



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One of the residents of the floating island, with her children and a tapestry she made. (MK)



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Then the boat continued to a permanent island, Taquile. (MK)



You can just see Bolivia on the horizon. (MK)



Village musicians. (MK)



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The men on Taquile knit constantly. (KK)



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Then it was back to Lima. (MK)



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And after one last jouncy bus ride (that's Rie in the mirror), it was into a cab and off to the airport to head for Chile. (KK)