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Well, we made it. We made our final border crossing, and we're now safely and happily stationed in a small, cheap hostel in Nazca, Peru. The truth is, coming over the border felt a lot like we were coming home. We started in Lima in January, and arriving back at the same hostel in the Miraflores district felt comforting and almost brought me to tears after the long, uncomfortable, at times scary trip through Ecuador.
And that's just the thing. Your first experiences make such an impact on the way you view things from then on. For us, we encountered genuine hospitality, friendliness, and a spirit of community in Peru that we have yet to find elsewhere. People here are unassuming, humble, and recognize that people are people, no more and no less, no matter how rich, white, or foreign. Tourists are treated like anyone else, and while that could be frustrating to some, we enjoy blending in, even if it is just in a superficial way.
Leaving Ecuador, we were worried that the rest of our bus experiences would be slow, fraught with safety concerns and staffed by rude, insensitive, penny-pinching drivers and money-takers. We were bemoaning the long (like 80 hours in all!!!) trip down south to Cusco, concerned about the number of taxis we'd have to take, the number of restaurants we would be taken advantage by, and so forth. In short, we were on guard. Waking up on the bus as it pulled into Piura, a little nothing-town stopover between Ecuador and Lima, we realized immediately that things were different, and completely as we remembered them; the taxi driver inquired about our travels, laughed with us, and charged a reasonable rate. Our soft-spoken hostel owner allowed us to change rooms, gave us directions to the center, and commisserated the lack of a computer in his establishment. Sitting down to a vegetarian meal at a local cafe, it hit us. We really have been all over the continent, and we really do feel like we have a place down here if and when we can find a way to come back. Peru is absolutely amazing, and we continually rediscover ourselves and our passion for travel while we're here.
That being said, we're ready to come home. We've seen three seasons here in a variety of climates, checked some big things off our life lists, met hundreds of amazing people from all over the world, many of whom we will be staying in contact with, and discovered places we'd like to live in the future, if only for a time. Even more importantly, we've learned to adapt to what life throws at us. Not every moment has been perfect, not by far. But by and large, the heart of the travel experience lies in the ability to feel the frustration of a bad experience, be it a long unairconditioned bus ride or the death threat of a crazy argentinian hippie, and realize that life is beautiful, enormously varied, and always teaching us new things, whether we are enjoying the lessons or not. No, we haven't suddenly become Stoics, and we are looking forward to the creature comforts of the States, but I think that it helps to rememberthat if the world were different, we would all survive and find ways to be happy. That, my friends, is an encouraging thought, especially in light of our long and so far fruitless job search (ANY TIPS???)
And with that I will leave you for now, perhaps until we get to Cusco. Stay tuned for a post by my dad (Woody) reporting on his visit to Quito! We enjoyed it greatly, but I'll let him talk about it first.
Love you all,
Sam
P.S. photos being uploaded as we speak!
5.19.2009
5.10.2009
Mother's Day
Quito. May 10th.
Today is mother's day, and we haven't forgotten. Both Ally and myself have called our respective mothers and contacted our grandmothers to show our appreciation on this special day (although we do try to show our appreciation every day, of course). But what about the true meaning of Mother's day? It was created in the last 100 or so years in order to provide a formal avenue of supporting and giving thanks to mothers everywhere, but I firmly believe that the spirit is one of recognizing community and those in your life who are always there for you. So of course, that includes you all.
You have followed our path for around 4 months now, curiously or nervously checking the blog to see where we are or make sure we're safe. We've received emails from many of you, comments from even more of you, and good vibes from all of you, all of which let us know we are loved by you. That feeling is immensely uplifting and powerful, and we want to thank all of you for the support you have shown...We truly would not be the same without you.
Travel can be so isolating without a lifeline or a reminder of home, and this blog and the responses we get to our writing have provided that. I can sense the loneliness I would have felt if our posts had gone uncommented or if we had not created this blog in the first place, and I am grateful therefore that every one of you is exactly as you are: supportive, interested, and caring. Again, thank you all for the kind words.
We love you, and we'll see you soon.
Sam
Today is mother's day, and we haven't forgotten. Both Ally and myself have called our respective mothers and contacted our grandmothers to show our appreciation on this special day (although we do try to show our appreciation every day, of course). But what about the true meaning of Mother's day? It was created in the last 100 or so years in order to provide a formal avenue of supporting and giving thanks to mothers everywhere, but I firmly believe that the spirit is one of recognizing community and those in your life who are always there for you. So of course, that includes you all.
You have followed our path for around 4 months now, curiously or nervously checking the blog to see where we are or make sure we're safe. We've received emails from many of you, comments from even more of you, and good vibes from all of you, all of which let us know we are loved by you. That feeling is immensely uplifting and powerful, and we want to thank all of you for the support you have shown...We truly would not be the same without you.
Travel can be so isolating without a lifeline or a reminder of home, and this blog and the responses we get to our writing have provided that. I can sense the loneliness I would have felt if our posts had gone uncommented or if we had not created this blog in the first place, and I am grateful therefore that every one of you is exactly as you are: supportive, interested, and caring. Again, thank you all for the kind words.
We love you, and we'll see you soon.
Sam
5.02.2009
Baños...sucks.
So here we are, in the toilet of Ecuador...and it feels like it needs cleaning.
Which is not to say that the town is particularly dirty, nor is it crime-ridden, culturally repulsive, or frustrating in any particular Ecuadorian or South American way. The problem is, well, us.
And by us, I don't mean Ally and I. We didn't cause this, that's for sure. This situation was created by years and years of corrupting, greed-oozing tourism from the United States, Europe, and actually lots of places in Latin America. The result: a town almost entirely made up of restaurants run by ex-patriates from Europe (very few Americans living here, for some reason) and tour agencies whose entire grasp of the English language is "hello friends, would you like to rent a bike?" Not that there's anything inherently wrong with wanting to make a living if you're a local, but very few of the people running these agencies or restaurants have much more to do with Ecuador than the "100% Ecuador" signs they post or the candid, machismo-drenched photos of white, college-aged girls squatting to pee in the jungle that they find endearing enough to put in the windows of their businesses.
We're tired of the hostels, only one of which has a kitchen (there are at least 30 in the town). We're tired of being charged extra for EVERY little thing. $3 a person for breakfast that should be included. $2 a person to watch a movie in our hostel (no one ever does). $3 every time our cooking supplies get thrown out because we keep them in the kitchen only to find out that we are not allowed. $4 per person for pizza so thin you could see through it at times. $1.50 added tax to said pizza, making this the only city in South America to add any sort of tax to anything. $1 + 1 book at a book exchange full of used books discarded by travelers.
Bullshit.
This reeks of the sort of capitalist, western-whitewashing that we witnessed in San Pedro de Atacama, where all hostels were price-fixed and bargaining was rendered impossible by the fact that there were fewer beds than people in the town. There, we could camp out. Here, we must bide our time in our room that quickly fills with the acrid odor of sulfur every time the toilet is flushed and is thrown into disarray every time the cleaning staff raucously begin their daily chores (5 people for a 30-bed hostel... no wonder they charge for breakfast).
And here's the kicker: the place is gorgeous. Surrounded by beautiful green volcanic peaks, one of which is slightly active and smokes charmingly in the distance, this is as close as you get to paradise, and if you're still not convinced, walk to the 40-odd meter waterfall that dusts the city with mist. After all, it's only a 5-minute walk to the hot springs warmed by geothermal currents which reside just downstream from the falls, and it only costs $1 to get in. You couldn't even pay for lunch-tax with that.
So here we are, in the toilet of Ecuador, about which Lonely Planet and shallow, drunk study-abroad bimbos alike rave, ready and eager to get back to Quito where the food is cheap ($3 indian food to die for), the people don't expect you to spend your perceived millions on their rent-a-wreck bikes, and the air is thin enough that the smell of sulfur dissipates before it reaches your nose.
Whew. glad I got that off my chest.
Love you all,
Sam
Which is not to say that the town is particularly dirty, nor is it crime-ridden, culturally repulsive, or frustrating in any particular Ecuadorian or South American way. The problem is, well, us.
And by us, I don't mean Ally and I. We didn't cause this, that's for sure. This situation was created by years and years of corrupting, greed-oozing tourism from the United States, Europe, and actually lots of places in Latin America. The result: a town almost entirely made up of restaurants run by ex-patriates from Europe (very few Americans living here, for some reason) and tour agencies whose entire grasp of the English language is "hello friends, would you like to rent a bike?" Not that there's anything inherently wrong with wanting to make a living if you're a local, but very few of the people running these agencies or restaurants have much more to do with Ecuador than the "100% Ecuador" signs they post or the candid, machismo-drenched photos of white, college-aged girls squatting to pee in the jungle that they find endearing enough to put in the windows of their businesses.
We're tired of the hostels, only one of which has a kitchen (there are at least 30 in the town). We're tired of being charged extra for EVERY little thing. $3 a person for breakfast that should be included. $2 a person to watch a movie in our hostel (no one ever does). $3 every time our cooking supplies get thrown out because we keep them in the kitchen only to find out that we are not allowed. $4 per person for pizza so thin you could see through it at times. $1.50 added tax to said pizza, making this the only city in South America to add any sort of tax to anything. $1 + 1 book at a book exchange full of used books discarded by travelers.
Bullshit.
This reeks of the sort of capitalist, western-whitewashing that we witnessed in San Pedro de Atacama, where all hostels were price-fixed and bargaining was rendered impossible by the fact that there were fewer beds than people in the town. There, we could camp out. Here, we must bide our time in our room that quickly fills with the acrid odor of sulfur every time the toilet is flushed and is thrown into disarray every time the cleaning staff raucously begin their daily chores (5 people for a 30-bed hostel... no wonder they charge for breakfast).
And here's the kicker: the place is gorgeous. Surrounded by beautiful green volcanic peaks, one of which is slightly active and smokes charmingly in the distance, this is as close as you get to paradise, and if you're still not convinced, walk to the 40-odd meter waterfall that dusts the city with mist. After all, it's only a 5-minute walk to the hot springs warmed by geothermal currents which reside just downstream from the falls, and it only costs $1 to get in. You couldn't even pay for lunch-tax with that.
So here we are, in the toilet of Ecuador, about which Lonely Planet and shallow, drunk study-abroad bimbos alike rave, ready and eager to get back to Quito where the food is cheap ($3 indian food to die for), the people don't expect you to spend your perceived millions on their rent-a-wreck bikes, and the air is thin enough that the smell of sulfur dissipates before it reaches your nose.
Whew. glad I got that off my chest.
Love you all,
Sam
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