Yes. It's Peru.

We left Lima for Iquitos today. Iquitos means “surrounded by water” in local language. It is an isolated city in the Amazon Basin of approximately 500,000 people. I say isolated because the only way to reach it is by water or by air. I say approximately 500,000 people because many people are poor and illiterate and many births are never recorded.

By Peruvian standards, Iquitos is rather new. It was a poor, humble fishing village until the 1880’s when the rubber industry caused it to boom. Then came synthetic rubber … the city is still large but gone are the glory days of money from Europe and rubber barons.

Iquitos of today is reminiscent of Thailand. People everywhere. Happy. Friendly. Outside. Working hard to make a living. Motocarra’s (3 wheeled motorcycles) and scooters are everywhere. Slums, feral dogs, begging children and child prostitution abound. It’s sad. It’s hot and it’s humid.

Iquitos has over 250 days of rain per year and a reported average rainfall of 25 inches per month … every month! How lucky are we that we don’t live here?

Today I met someone who did. Louisa grew up here. 39 years ago she met Bob on the Amazon River. Bob was in the Peace Corp. They now live in Rochester, NY. Today they were in Iquitos to open a new school built in the childhood home of Louisa. Bob and Louisa have spent much of the past almost 40 yrs bringing education to Peruvian children – those children who reach out for hope. Those kids who just need a “leg up” in life to really shine. A student in their school in the high jungle just finished high school as the Valedictorian and is now in university on a full scholarship. Caring matters … and it works! As Louisa said “you can’t save them all but you can save the ones who really want to be rescued”.

They have invited me to the opening of their new school. I wish I could go. :(

Robert and Louisa Owens, The Peruvian Project Inc.

We left Lima for Iquitos today. On the way to the airport someone asked if we could take our water through security. Mirko, our tour leader, said ‘Yes. It’s Peru!”

I cleared security, boarded the plane (water bottle in hand) and sat down next to the people who would become known to me as Bob and Louisa. Yes, it’s Peru. And it’s wonderful.

Lima and Miraflores photos

A small collection of some photos from April 23 - 24 ...


Words to live by ... "Don't piss on the flowers!" :)

Sunset in Larcomar, Miraflores

a door to nowhere ...

Larcomar shopping area

Dancers in Plaza des Mayors in front of Cathedral de Lima

Police dogs (a rottie and dobie) in Plaza San Martin

School kids in Lima ... we shared email addresses. :)

Pisco. A little birdie told me ...

Pisco.

We learn so much about life after the fact. Why do we learn the most important facts after the experience? Those oh-so important, salient facts in life that would have been so helpful had we known them beforehand.

Pisco. The national alcohol of Peru - distilled from grapes and named after the birds of the Inca Valley where it originated . So national that you are not allowed to take it out of the country and there is some dispute over whether or not the same alcohol from other regions can be called Pisco at all (much like Champagne). Pisco is a white brandy-type liqour and has some rather potent qualities. It is served as a "pisco sour" and is very refreshing on a hot day. It was a very hot day. :)

After the fact, we learned that you should never drink more than one at a time. After the fact, we learned that never, ever should you drink more than 2. I had 3. Donna had 4.

After the fact, I know why those recommendations are in place. After the fact.

Donna. She's from Australia. Melbourne, in fact. She's traveling on a Gap tour, alone like I am, albeit on a different tour than I. We're both in Peru, escaping the reality of life for awhile. We hit it off and have been tourist buddies here in Lima ever since ... and pisco buddies! Donna works at SAP and is another hard core work-aholic like me. I've decided that SAP stands for "Some Additional Pisco", please. :)



Rolando. Our taxi driver from heaven. Rolando took us to Lima to see the old city and to steer us little lambs from harms' way in to the safer parts of Lima. He took us in to the city and then returned 5 hrs later to claim us. Rolando told us about Pisco. After the fact!



He was rather impressed to learn we had consumed as much as we did and were raring to go this morning. Not so much at 3am when my room was spinning ...

Donna and I were able to see the Cathedral de Lima, the changing of the guard at the Palacio de Gobierno and lo and behold ... Lori found a wine & tapas bar!! I had a Pisco sour. Damn! they are addictive!

(these guys definitely need a new choreographer!! )

In the cathedral we bumped into Bruce and Judy from BC again and Bruce confessed to me that he had "lens envy". I guess size DOES matter!

We strolled the old city and denied ourselves the impulse to shop (mostly because anything we purchased now has to be hauled with us to Machu Picchu and the jungle). A gaggle of gorgeous Pervian school girls in full school uniform begged for me to take their photo and we all exchanged email addresses to stay in contact. We traveled on down Jiron de la Union to the Bolivia hotel where our angel taxi driver Rolando was waiting for us.

I'm sitting here now, on the top of a cliff, in Miraflores, reflecting on a great day.

Sipping a Pisco sour. #2. I am such a brave soul.

Lima, the adventure begins.

Today.

I saw a man. An older man. In the park, high above the ocean, reading. A book. "Amor".

I saw a couple. Locked in an embrace that will transcend time. The Statue "el Besso" (the kiss) by sculptor Victor Delfin.

Under that statue, another couple, just married. Locked in an embrace that will hopefully transcend time. In a park. Parque del Amor. Love Park.

I saw a dog. A big, beautiful black labrador. Locked in an embrace with her tennis ball. Folicking in a fountain on a hot day.

I saw an oasis. Ahead on my walk through Miraflores. A commercial oasis. Good god! There is a Hooters ... and KFC and Chili's and Tony Roma's and everything else that is wrong with the
world. I walked back. I did a u-turn and walked back to park of amor. It was prettier there.

Lima, the adventure begins.

April 23 - Day 1 arrive in Lima

I wasn't sure how readily available wine would be in Peru. One must exercise extreme caution when unsure about where to find a good source of great wine. To be on the safe side, I squirreled away a few "spare" bottles from the plane. The flight attendant was quite astonished that I could pack away 8 bottles of wine over the course of the flight ... little did he know that I "packed them away" into my daypack! Better safe than sorry.

It's now midnight and I'm awfully pleased with myself for the foresight of stashing away those bottles of wine and my "light snack" from the plane. :)

After a great few days in Toronto and an uneventful 8 hr flight to Lima (one bottle of wine per hour!) ... I arrived. Happy and welcoming the humidity and smiling faces at the airport. The people of Peru are happy and very friendly ... I feel more at home here than I ever have in Calgary.

My driver is waiting with my name on a sign. And 2 friendly souls from Vancouver Island as my taxi companions. Bruce and Judy. On their way to Cusco and to hike to Machu Picchu and Lake Titicaca.

It's 11:30 pm. I arrive at my hotel. Los Embajadores. Not good. I'm on the 2nd floor, over the front entrance. No air conditioning, sirens wailing, car alarms going off, a cacophony of barking dogs and party central on the street. And let's not forget "beep, beep!" ... the universal signal for "hey lady! want a taxi??".

Luckily, I packed ear plugs and sleeping pills - I close the window and hope for the best. Sleep was elusive ... but the sheets are fabulous! Thankfully I move to the Miraflores Colon Hotel in the morning. It's much nicer, half a block away and the preferred Hotel for the many embassies and consolates in the area. I feel out of place with my MEC backpack and sandals. But I have air conditioning and comfy beds. I'm loving Lima. I'm not sure why they call this hotel the "Colon" because it is anything but! (pardon the pun. ;)

My Spanish is improving. I have learned a new word. Pisco. (remember that word, I'll talk about it later) :)

Maple Syrup

What on earth does maple syrup have to do with Peru?

Let’s talk about maple syrup. It’s yummy. It’s so utterly Canadian. And it’s in my suitcase – hopefully ensconced within the confines of its’ post-production container.

I’m at 39,000 feet – thinking about Maple Syrup. I capitalized those words because they deserve to be. The sticky sweetness that the mere whiff of takes us back to childhood in eastern Ontario with memories of tapping trees, removing bugs and tree bark from sap buckets, camp fires and burning sap. Burning mittens. How many of you just had a flashback to the smell of ice-encrusted woolen mittens thawing/burning on the wood stove?? I’m right, aren’t I? :) Take a moment and relish in the sweet, burning memories of childhood.

So, back to my suitcase.

Just what is the tensile strength of the one litre tin holding my maple syrup? How much pressure is exerted on a tin of maple syrup in the belly of the plane at 39,000 ft (why does the aviation industry still use imperil units of measurement? Don’t they know how it worked out for the Mars Rover with those pesky metric/imperial conversions??)- will the doubled Zip-lock bags contain the liquid should the container be compromised. Do I worry about TOO much? (ok, don’t answer that question! But, you will notice that my worries have shifted from "work" to mundane things like “will my hiking shoes be stuck to my underwear when I open my luggage?”)

My mom.

My mom is the sweetest, most sincere person in the world. I love her to death.

She is also the provider of the syrup that may well cause my hiking shoes to be stuck to my underwear when I open my suitcase in a few hours. She lives in the heart of “Maple Syrup country” in beautiful Perth, Ontario and I am blessed to have been born at the end of maple syrup production season and to have a mother who “feeds my need” on my birthday every year. Didn’t I say she is the sweetest person in the world?? ;)

It all started with the impromptu plans to go to Peru. Ok, it’s turned into a bit of a mess – but I ask you … what in my life, doesn’t??

Mike, my brother of intervention fame mentioned previously, proffered up his good friend Howard as a contact for me in Cusco. Howard has graciously offered to show me Cusco; the history, the ruins and to commune with nature in a spiritual and fulfilling way. Being the polite Canadian that I am, I queried; “Howard, is there anything I can bring you from Canada?”. Predictably, Howard replied “if you can throw in a bottle or 2 of maple syrup I would really appreciate it”. Howard, you see, is a misplaced Canuck longing for the one thing that inextricably ties us to the mothership … errr, I mean the ‘homeland’ – the sweet euphoria that is the boiled down sap of the noble and mighty maple tree. (thank god he wasn’t missing the other distinctly Canadian icon – the beaver! ) My mom happily obliged; we met in Toronto to exchange hugs and maple syrup.

So Howard, after figuring out how to pack in a litre of maple syrup when I’ve already solved for packing for the jungle, the ocean, the Inca trail and a few meetings in Toronto --I sit here at 39,000 feet knowing that I can bring a little bit of Canada to Peru for you … but I’m still wondering if my hiking shoes will be stuck to my underwear when I get there.

I just noticed a red flashing light … I think it’s my blackberry calling me. No! It’s the glint of the sunshine through the airplane window off my plastic airline wine glass. Ahhhhh … life is good!

It’s called an Intervention.

Politely.

In reality it’s bullying with a purpose.

At its' core is the desire by close friends/family to change what they think is a destructive behavior on your part. To me, it was the blatant, and rather forceful, removal of my blackberry from my person by my friend Kelly and my brother Mike. While I’m still suffering the pangs of “quitting cold turkey” I do love them for surgically removing my RIM appendage from both me and my trip to Peru. Tough love is the best type of love! I’ll keep telling myself that as every blink of a red flash – (any where! … darn those traffic lights!) beckons me like a nursing mother running to her crying child … or a recently reformed smoker as he walks that 5.1m past the doorway of an office building or restaurant. Oooooommmmmmmm …. Breath deeply. Let go …. I will survive.

In the meantime, I am relishing in the memories of my new niece Caitlyn (Australian for "adorable"!).

Peru'sing - from the Amazon to the Andes.

Spanish.

Who knew?

Do you ever reflect back on high school and wonder what you got out of it? Let's see. I learned a few things, some of which I will mention here (the others, we will NOT talk about!):

1. I was smarter than the teachers!
   
2. High school is NOT preparation for real life
   
3. The most beneficial class I took was Grade 9 typing ... and I only took that because they wouldn't let me take wood shop during that time period!
   
4. The 2nd most beneficial class I took was a few years of Latin. (yah, well who wanted to take Home Ec!???) All those years wasted on calculus and physics would have been much better spent on typing and margarita's! (errr, I mean languages) ;)
   

So here I am, 20+ years later, typing and thanking latin class for helping me with Spanish (and all those years of French)! I am told that I speak Spanish with a French accent ... how cute is that?? :) (as a French friend of mine says "I don't English very good, but I French very well!) :D

Spanish. I digress.

Spanish lessons. Well, I was never a great student (a good learner, but a horrible student!... and a life-long student ... with too much formal education for my own good!) so, the mere thought of enrolling in a class caused me to open a very expensive bottle of wine to contemplate the very concept of teaching an old dog, a new trick. To the rescue ... one Spanish friend - Jose.

I'm not sure if Jose offered to help me learn Spanish or simply as an excuse to test-drive every Mexican restaurant in town to drink Margarita's??! :) All I can say is that the margarita's are awesome and my Spanish does not seem to be improving. Mucho gracias, Amigo! Is it a coincidence that I am away for Cinco de Mayo? I think not! I shall drink a margarita for all of my friends who have ever uttered the words "muy bueno, si senor, mas tequila, por favor, mas cervacas, or Ola, Amigo!" on a drunken escapade to Mexico to escape the brutality of a northern winter! :) Salud, mis amigos! (I tried to type that without the french accent, did it work?)

Lección siguiente, mañana. Wish me luck and good tequila! :)

Hasta la vez próxima… ("a la prochaine" - en francais). Until next time ...

If you fail to plan ...

The Preparation.

Ok, I never prepare for any trip. A 6am flight means I do laundry at midnight and pack at 2am and my passport is always in my wallet. I once went to Thailand for 10 days with 6 hrs notice. It was my brother's wedding and I wanted to surprise him ... it is one my fondest memories and best trips ever. :)

How does one decide what to pack in a back pack for 3 weeks? So far, I have bug spray, a bikini and sun glasses. I some how think that won't be enough.

The flight.

I wanted to put first class quotation marks around this 1 star trip and fly business class on points. Air Canada put an end to those thoughts with their "limited seat" option for airmiles. It was a nice thought while it lasted.

I fly to Toronto to meet up with a good chunk of my family before leaving for Peru. It will awesome to see my brand new niece (Caitlyn -- Australian for adorable!) and my incredible other niece Stephanie (who has somehow grown into a wonderful young adult while I blinked my eyes!). Lots more interesting stuff planned for my 12 hrs in Toronto but I'll write about that later.

The planning continues ... (much to my chagrin)

Escaping winter and finding adventure

Decisions, decisions, decisions. Escaping winter and finding adventure

Preamble:

It's the dead of the deep, dark winter north of the 49th and mother nature is throwing us another "whack-a-mole" spring. Just when you think spring has poked it's head up from the frozen tundra, good ole' mom nature hits again with another round of -20C and 20cm of snow! That's when sanity sets in (or thaws out) and you realize it's time to get out of Dodge for some serious adventure!

As someone who doesn't believe in suppressing my natural immune system with vaccinations, antibiotics, or other drugs (unless you count wine as a drug!), the requirements for this trip are stessing me out! Hep A, HepB, Typhoid (my name isn't even Mary!), tetanus (that Grand Canyon squirrel bite was 11 yrs ago - darn!) and malaria. YIKES! 4 weeks to go and all I have to show for it is 2 sore shoulders and a rather large dent in my credit card.

This was supposed to be a hasty decision to travel spontaneously to some adventurous location without much forethought. How can last-minute travel take 4 weeks to set in motion? Isn't that an oxymoron? or am I simply too impatient to "follow rules"? Ok, don't answer that one! :)

Here I am ... 4 weeks of immunizations (that I don't believe in) in preparation for a trip that I had an urge to take 4 weeks ago! Follow me and join me on my trip ... from the Amazon to the Andes. Join me on my river adventures, mosquito bites, malaria pills, piranha fishing, jungle camping, Cusco, Machu Picchu and Lima and I'll share with you photos, stories, fun moments and the exhilaration. Never travel alone ... always bring a camera and laptop! :)

First stop ... Toronto! (as fun as that is, it gets better after that!)