Saturday, May 06, 2006

The Last Day



Perhaps because I had spent so little time exploring the main land, Ecuador was surprisingly easy to leave. As we got closer to Miami, my sense of wistfulness increased. I finished my copy of The Motorcycle Diaries minutes before we landed in Miami. I started a conversation with my spanish-speaking neighbor, knowing that this may be the last opportunity I had to practice the language for awhile.

From the air, it was easy to see the perfect rows of nearly identical houses surrounded by groomed yards, complete sidewalks, and paved streets. During my trip, a man had told me he loved America because "It was perfect." At the time, I thought it was an odd comment. I still don't know if he was being sincere or sarcastic, but from this viewpoint I knew what he had meant.

After landing, it was strange how quickly I reverted to my role as the entitled American. When it took forever for our luggage to arrive, rather that waiting patiently, knowing that it would come eventually, I went to customer service demanding to know what was taking so long. In the security line, rather than waiting for my turn, knowing that the plane wouldn't leave without me, I told the guard I had a tight connection and was ushered to the front of the line.

My impatience only grew when we got to Dallas. There was a storm and all of the departing flights had been delayed. I couldn't afford a delay! I had been planning, since before I left on this trip, a surprise party for Rod. This day, a Friday, was two days before his birthday and three days before he thought I would be home. I had planned on arriving in Salt Lake at 8:15, Nici would be picking up a cake and then picking me up at the airport, people were showing up at my house at 8:30 (Jess, who I had given a spare key before the trip, and Carrie, would be there to let them in), and Rory was supposed to bring Rod back to the house at nine. The flight from Dallas to SLC was the longest of my life!

In the end, everything worked out perfectly. Though my flight was delayed an hour and the airline lost my luggage, I still managed to get home before Rod. We had turned out all the lights, but forgotten to shut the front door. We could hear Rod outside, concerned that he was being robbed. When he flipped on the lights, the shocked look on his face was priceless! He hadn't suspected a thing. =) It was a great night!

Day 93: Quito, Ecuador


I wish I could say that my last full day in South America was filled with excitement. It wasn't. In fact, I didn't even go to see the sights that Quito offered. Instead I spent the day running errands to prepare for my trip home. In the morning, while my friend Jenn (from the Galapagos trip) was busy at her volunteer project, I decided I was in dire need of a pedicure. My feet had been horribly mistreated in the last three months. While I was at the salon, I decided an eyebrow wax wouldn't be a bad idea either (in my neverending quest to keep the weight of my pack down, I had left tweezers at home). Unfortunately, the spanish words for wax and dye are very similar. The aesthetician had used the lightest color she had, but because the salons in Ecuador deal mainly with dark-haired people, I ended up with eyebrows about five shades darker than my sun-bleached hair. I left looking like Groucho Marx.

For lunch, I treated Jenn to a typical Ecuadorian meal. I knew it would be my last three-course meal for $3. Then we met up with our friend Esteban (one of the guides we met while staying in the Galapagos) and his cousins. They took us to an indigenous market, where I hurriedly tried to buy souvenirs for friends and family.

My last night in South America was not a wild and crazy blowout, but instead a relaxing dinner of wine, cheese, fresh bread, and fresh fruit, followed by an attempt to watch our bootlegged copy of Syriana.

Thursday, May 04, 2006

Day 90-91: Tayrona National Park



This place had been described to us as paradise on Earth. Regina and I were in no position to disagree. We rented two hammocks on the beach and spent the afternoon exploring the beaches that lined the Carribean Coast of Colombia. With the turquoise water, white sandy beaches, and bag of sugar mangos (which we consumed in a day), we were two happy campers.

The next morning we swam and soaked up sun on our beach, Cabo San Juan. Then, to break up the three hour hike back to the road, we stopped and swam at each beach we passed on the way back to the road except for Arrecifes, which is known for its deadly undertow. At the last swimmable beach, known as La Piscina or the "Pool", we were woken from our post-swim nap by a loud thud. A man had climbed a nearby palm tree and was throwing down coconuts. After climbing down, he hacked at the coconuts with his machete and offered them to us and a nearby family for drinking and eating. Mmmm . . . .

As this was my last night in Colombia, Regina and I celebrated by going to our favority juice guy and buying another bag of sugar mangos. Colombia has the most amazing fruit! There are fruit stands everywhere and they are filled with fruits I have never seen before. Sugar mangos, my favorite new fruit, are small peelable mangos that are so sweet and juicy. Compared to these sugar mangos (or even Colombia's regular mangos), the mangos we have in the United States taste like mango flavored popsicle sticks. Then there are carts with baskets of fruits and blenders about every four feet. For between $.25 and $1.50 you can get a huge fruit shake. My favorite flavor was tomate de arbol (tomato of the tree), moracuno (passion fruit), lulo (no translation (maybe lychee), but a small fruit the size of a grape that has a hard green shell with soft white flesh and a pit the size of a plum pit), and a squeeze of limon (lime). By the time I left Colombia, Regina and I had consumed four of those and half a bag of sugar mangos. I am sure going to miss the fruit . . . and Regina.

Day 88-89 - Ciudad Perdida



The Lost City is accessed by a 40 km hike and 1200 steps. It is made up of 169 circular terraces, where straw huts once stood, and series of paths connecting them. It is believed to be the largest and most sacred city of the Tayrona people, who abandoned the city during the Spanish conquests. Unlike most of the indigenous cultures, the Tayronans living at the Ciudad Perdida were not conquered by the Spanish. In fact, the city wasn't "discovered" until 1972 when treasure looters stumbled upon it.

Now it only has a few inhabitants, Kogi ancestors of the Tayrona people. According to the online encyclopedia, it is in an area that "is currently in the geographic center of a war between the Colombian army, right-wing paramilitary groups (AUC) and left-wing guerilla groups like Ejército de Liberación Nacional (ELN) and Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC). On September 15, 2003, ELN kidnapped 8 foreign tourists that were visiting Ciudad Perdida, demanding government investigation of human rights abuses in exchange for their hostages. ELN released the last of the hostages three months later. The AUC has declared itself protector of this area." I'm glad I read that after the hike. =)

Day 86: A recipe for Coke




Included in the hike to the Ciudad Perdida was a tour of a cocaine factory. I envisioned a large warehouse in the middle of the jungle with piles of white powder and a small army of men with automatic weapons. What I got was a small hut in the middle of the jungle operated by an elderly man, who was more than happy to walk us through each step of the process.

Cocaine
1 kilo coca leaves yeilds 1 gram of cocaine

Ingredients: 1 kilo coca leaves, 1/2 kilo salt, 1/2 kilo white paint, 180 liters of gasoline, 8 liters of water, 8 Tbsp. sulphuric acid, pergamonato (iodine like anesthetic), and caustic soda (some sort of acid).

Directions: Grind coca leaves with lawn trimmer. Use dirty boots to mix/stomp in salt and paint. Let set over night. Put in barrel with gasoline. Let set for five hours. Add water and sulphuric acid. Mix with big plunger (can be made by attaching punctured bucket lid to broomstick). Siphon out excess liquid. Add pergamonato. Put mixture on a strainer to filter remaining liquid into a bucket. Add caustic soda to this liquid cocaine. Strain again. Dry in sun with 20 armed guards. Cocaine is ready for smoking.

Variation: If you prefer to snort your cocaine, mix 1 tbsp. of acetone (nail polish remover) per glass of liquid before drying.

At the end of the tour, the owner offered us samples. Uh . . . no gracias!

Day 85 - 89 Hiking to the Ciudad Perdida





My traveling philosophy has always been "what doesn't kill me, will make a great story to write home about." That was certainly true of the Ciudad Perdida hike. My first sign should have been when our "two-hour jeep ride" turned into a four-hour jeep ride because (1) our jeep stalled four times on our way to the mountain where the trailhead was located, (2) once we began climbing the mountain, the jeep stalled and wouldn't re-start (despite our efforts to push it uphill!), (3) the twelve of us (two groups of five and the guides) and our gear were squished into the back of the only truck that was nice enough to give us a lift, smashing our bread and breaking our eggs in the process, and (4) our replacement truck got a flat tire ten minutes after it picked us up.

The trip did not improve after we (finally) started the hike. Though it is to a Lost City, the hike is fairly straightforward. It is by no means easy, though. I wasn't scared of being captured by guerrillas (at least not until our guide started telling us stories about how many times that had happened), I was sure that the humidity would kill me first. Within the first hour, my clothes were completely drenched with sweat. It was going to be fun wearing these clothes for the next six days! By the end of the hike, I was "falling" into the river because hiking in dripping wet clothes was slightly more comfortable than hiking in sweat-drenched clothing.

On the third and fourth day, we had to cross the river eight times within an hour. The company had told us to bring sandals "for relaxing," but had failed to mention that we might need them for crossing rivers. As I was carrying my own gear, I had left my Chacos safely in my pack back at the hostel. Rather than take my shoes on and off at each river crossing, it was easier (and faster) just to go barefoot. Regina, who was already hiking in her Chacos, graciously offered to carry my shoes so I could concentrate on not (a) cutting my foot, (b) spraining my ankle, (c) falling in the river, (d) stubbing my toes, or (e) (I didn't realize this was a risk until I smooshed one) stepping on the big camouflaged spiders. When we reached the last river crossing, my feet were raw and I was so excited to be done. But, alas, Regina fell in the river. I spent the rest of the day hiking in one wet shoe.

At night, the mosquitoes moved in and they were ravenous. Just when I thought that every inch of exposed skin had been bitten, I would find a new bite in a random place like my ear lobe. My legs looked diseased! We would go to bed early to escape the mosquitoes, but it was hard to get a decent night's sleep in the hammocks.

To top all of this off, our guide was lousy. The company, Turcol, doesn't buy the food or train the guides, but instead gives the guides money to buy food and expects them to educate themselves. As a result, the guides have an incentive to buy less food (more money for them) and to make up stories about the lost city rather than learning about it. Now, if you have a self-motivated guide, this is not a problem. The group that was hiking with us had a fabulous guide. We were not so lucky. Our guide did not buy enough food. Bread and cheese are not a sufficient breakfast for a five-hour hike! My group was saved from starving (okay I'm being a little dramatic, but I really was famished) only because Elizer, the other guide, and the kind boys from the other group, who had brought enough food to satisfy their munchies, were kind enough to share with us. Also, when we were really desperate, we would ask our cook, Ali, if there was pineapple. He would say no, then run down the path carrying a big machete. Minutes later, he would return with very fresh pineapple. Mmmm.

When we did reach the Ciudad Perdida, our guide told us all about the city. Lies, lies, lies! When we asked Elizer about some of the things our guide had told us, he just laughed and then, when he was able to compose himself, told us what really had happened. For example, our guide told us that the Tayrona people died because they didn't have enough salt or fish and those that survived the food shortage killed themselves because it was better to die than become a slave. Eli informed us that the Tayrona people died because when the Spanish conquistadors arrived there was a war in Pueblito. Some of the Lost City's warriors went down to help the people of Pueblito fight and when they returned they brought clothing that contained diseases. Also, our guide told us that it took hundreds of years to build the Lost City. As impressive as the Lost City was, it seemed odd that it took hundreds of years to build these stone terraces when the temples of Machu Picchu were built in only 90 years. When we asked our guide about it, he snapped that he was not a guide for Machu Picchu and did not know why it had been built so quickly. Eli later told us that the Lost City had been built in 80 years.

Another great example of our wonderful guide is, on the hike back, Regina was about to climb over a log that had fallen over the path. I noticed that there was a very large scary looking snake draped over it. After a couple of minutes of deciding what to do, we realized that someone had already chopped the head off of the snake. When we caught up to the guide, we asked him about the snake. He hadn't noticed it! When I showed him the picture I had taken, he told us it was a very dangerous snake with mortal venom. How reassuring! Our guide, the person who was supposed to keep us safe, had somehow missed the large and deadly snake lying in the middle of the path.

Now that I'm done ranting . . . the hike was not so bad. Once I learned to ignore our guide and how disgusting I felt, it was really beautiful. The hike to the Lost City takes three days up and three days back. We climb three passes and over 1,000 stairs to get to it. The trail leads us through really beautiful pristine jungle. Every day there was a beautiful pool to swim in when we finished with our hike. There were at least three zen moments that made the hike worth it. The first was sitting at the top of our first big climb and looking over the valley. There was nothing but jungle and mist. It was incredible!

The second was after our second day of hiking. We were hot and sweaty and more or less ran to the river as soon as we made it to camp. The water was cold and the current was too strong for swimming under the waterfall. I headed for the large flat boulder in the middle of the river instead. I was sunning on it when it started to rain. The sun was still shining and the rain was warm. I stayed there until our guide called us for dinner.

Then, after the fifth day hiking, Regina and I headed down to the river. A little boy who lived near our camp came down to tell us that there was a much better swimming spot nearby. We followed him to this amazing waterfall. There was no way to make it down the pool it created without jumping off of a cliff. I was the first one in. The two of us had the waterfall all to ourselves. We laughed that to us this was paradise, but to the little boy who had lead us here, it was home.

My favorite part of the hike, though, was the solitude. I purposely distanced myself from the group. I had a lot of time to think and to come to terms with the fact that my trip, and with it my transitory lifestyle, would be ending in a few short days. After this trip ends, I will no longer be doing things for the next semester, month, or year. Instead my obligations will be for a more indefinite period of time. I will have to become the dreaded "settled" or, worse, "grown-up." As much as I had resisted that moment, I found myself looking forward to the next chapter. In the end, I felt like I had conquered much more than a six-day, sweaty hike to a found city.