Manchester, For Real This Time

"A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent on arriving." -Lao Tzu

I am back in the states and rather jet lagged but I felt I would report on my second trip to England while it was still fresh in my head.

We arrived in Manchester to a dreadfully dreary drizzle that would accompany us the remainder of the trip.  We decided to grab lunch before settling into our hostel.  The hostel itself was nice and located in the Northern Quarter of the city but the showers proved to be tricky.  It had only two temperatures: Norwegian frost and Tears of the Devil which meant that the act of bathing became a real fire and ice dance.

Donning our rain jackets, we headed out to explore the town.  Manchester is a little rough around the edges with an even rougher core.  Large numbers of homeless sit outside of shops and restaurants asking for money.  The town had an extra energy because it was a long weekend in Britain so many people had come up to experience the Manchester nightlife.  Our hostel had a pub crawl organized for the night so we decided to attend.

The following day we set out to explore some of the museums Manchester had to offer only to find out that most of them were closed for the holiday.  We did go in the National Football Museum as well as the Museum of Science and Industry.  The museums are free but do ask for donations.  When I was there in July I didn't donate anything and just walked in.  Seeing in as this was probably bad karma and shortly after returning home from that trip my life got flipped turned upside-down (fresh prince reference) I was out to reset any balance I may have disrupted in Manchester, thus made somewhat generous donations.  The museums were just as they were a few months before so no excitement to report there.

We decided to take the train to Liverpool the next day.  Apart from the massive cathedral which is the largest of it's design in the world, the main attraction of Liverpool is Albert Docks.  Lined with shops, restaurants, and museums the docks have a deep historical impact on the world.  Most of the slave trade with the United States was tied to these docks as slaves were shipped to America, which then shipped raw material (cotton) to England which was turned into finished goods.  Maybe not the glorious part of human history but a main chapter in our story.

Of course Liverpool is very proud of it's 4 most famous residents: John, Paul, George, and Ringo.  Beatles lyrics, album art, and references are everywhere in town.  There is even a Beatles museum which we were unable to go to due to lack of timing.

The next two nights we really got into that Manchester night life with very amusing results.  We witnessed a bouncer chase down and tackle an unruly patron, girls shout insults at men on the street, and the cobblestone streets claim victim to a few high-heeled women.

The real reason for our trip to Manchester, however was to experience first-hand what the city is best known for: the industrial revolution Football!

Chelsea happened to be in town and seeing Manchester United play at Old Trafford was a bucket list item for me.  We purchased the cheapest tickets we could find online, bundled up, and set out for the stadium a few hours before kickoff.  After sharing a few pints with locals and walking around the stadium listening to chants of fired up fans, it was time to enter.  We lucked out with our seats! I was seated 12 rows back and Branden scored seats near the corner flag just 2 rows back.  The game seemed to fly by and was everything we could have hoped for and more.  To top it all off, United won 2-0!  Great end to the trip.

I've often said that the worst part of traveling is traveling.  We had a connecting flight in Iceland and as we began our decent it became apparent that the weather was not going to cooperate.  It was one of the scariest landings I have ever been a part of as the 50 mph cross winds tossed our plane around even after we had touched down.  An Icelandic family next to me laughed at my clearly tense body language and reassured me that pilots were used to this.

The wind didn't let up either.  All flights were grounded for the next 2-3 hours but at last we set off for San Francisco.  Very tired, hungry, and a little grumpy I arrived at SFO to discover that the airline had not only lost my bag, but every single bag of every passenger on the flight.  Apparently they were still in Iceland.

Lighter one bag, I made the hour journey to Brentwood to get my car then the 2 hour trip back home.  I was very thankful to sleep last night.  I return to work tomorrow and will gut out the next 6 weeks of school before saying goodbye to teaching forever and making a career switch.  I am unsure when I will be able to take another trip abroad but when I do, I will update this blog.

I hope everyone had a terrific holiday.

Copenhagen

"Happiness is a choice. You can choose to be happy. There's going to be stress in life, but its your choice whether you let it affect you or not." -Valerie Bertinelli

I've seen many lists that rank the "happiest countries in the world" and like clock work I always see countries from Scandinavia at the top.  I guess part of this trip held the purpose of finding out why.  How is it that a place that is dark for huge portions of the winter and windy the other part of the year have people that are year in and year out the happiest?  What things in American life make us "unhappy", however science chooses to define that word.  Sitting in traffic is surely an unpleasant experience, as is poor weather, a job you dislike, getting a paper cut, or the sound of your alarm in the morning, but certainly the people of Denmark deal with those as well.  So what is it?

I am traveling with two of my college friends.  Garrett, an old roommate and one of the most laid back people you will ever meet.  And Branden, a guy I spent many college nights with talking soccer and hitting the bars in Cotati.  We arrived in Denmark on Sunday so it has taken me a little while to get around to adding to my blog.

Our first experience with this new land was on the train from the airport to the city center.  We all purchased a ticket, as anyone would do when riding a train, and it was understood that at some point that ticket would be either checked by a conductor or else needed to exit through a turnstile.  Both were wrongful assumptions.  We arrived on the platform to see a staircase taking us to a main street in the city.  Evidently train tickets are purchased on the honor system.

We spent that night treating ourselves to a few beers to shake off the jet lag and exploring town.  Nyhavn is a neighborhood on the water, complete with colorful buildings holding restaurants, bars, and shops.  The number 67 house in Nyhavn is the old home of Hans Christian Andersen, the most famous resident of Copenhagen and author of The Little Mermaid, Thumbelina, and The Emperor's New Clothes.  Even with the crowds the sights, sounds, and smells of Nyhavn were worth the trip.

Our first full day in Denmark we challenged any normal travel advice and immediately took the train out of town to Malmo, Sweden.  Malmo was nice but lacking in anything substantial.  It was windy and a little quieter than Copenhagen.  We explored for a few hours before having lunch then heading back.

In the evening we bought tickets to Trivoli Gardens, the second oldest amusement park in the world.  According to the Danes, Walt Disney took many ideas for the original Disneyland from this park.  I could definitely see similarities.  I only went on two rides.  One was a steel roller coaster that Branden and I road.  The other was a huge tower that your chair slowly ascends before dropping you to what feels like a horrific death.  I sat next to a boy that couldn't have been older than 10.  I asked him, before we went up, if he was scared.  He confidently told me he wasn't which helped me keep my nerve as well.  As we slowly climbed upward, and the city unfolded beneath us, I felt tension turn to anxiety.  As my newly made friend to my right started dropping F-Bombs, I felt anxiety turn to fear.  I wish I could tell you that the wind was chilly at the top or the view was amazing but, no.  I only had enough nerve to be completely terrified before making it back to the ground in what felt like half a second.  I didn't enjoy a second of it.  That is my dramatic account of a routine ride at a theme park.

The next day was spent at Christiana, an abandoned military barracks that was taken over by squatters and turned into a small community.  The green light district has a sign that read something like "Welcome to the Green Light District.  Photography is not allowed and we remind you that it is still illegal to buy and sell drugs."  The authority of the sign was slightly undone by the five or so vendors standing ten yards away selling weed by the bag.  Needless to say, we did not spend too much time here.

As we went around town, touring historic fortresses, parliament, and shopping centers, I tried to understand the recipe of their happiness, as if a signpost on a corner would outline it for me.  Copenhagen is a very bike friendly city.  Bicycles get their own sidewalks, pedestrians another, and cars share the road in a cooperative and polite manner.  Rarely did we hear a car horn or screeching tires.  It also became apparent that in the rows of bikes we would see outside of buildings, very few were ever locked up.  People trust people.

We were also witness to a sanitation worker giving plastic bags to a homeless man full of recycling.  A small gesture from him that probably had a relatively large impact on the day or week of the homeless man.  No one ever seemed to be in a rush, or upset, or worried.  People handle their business and expect others to do the same.

Denmark is one of the happiest places on Earth not for the weather, or the cheapness, or the historic palaces (everywhere in Europe seems to have those), but rather that people do what is expected of them and nothing that isn't.  If a bike is unlocked, they leave it.  If it rains, they deal with it.  They are happy because they choose to be happy.

I look back on my life, and the last few months when I might have found myself unhappy, and wonder how much of it was chosen.  Surely if happiness is a choice, so is unhappiness.  We control our perception of things whether we care to admit it or not.

Back Home

"There is no real ending.  It's just the place where you stop the story." -Frank Herbert

I am in Iceland... For the time being anyways.  I am in the middle of a 4 hour layover before flying to San Francisco and eventually home.

Scotland was fantastic! I arrived to a light mist, which meant I once again was able to utilize my rain jacket.  In four weeks between Iceland and Britain I was rained on three times.  That has to be a record.  I also had a slight head cold, possibly from three straight nights of pub crawls in Manchester.

Most of Edinburgh is in the process of getting a face lift as the world famous Fringe Festival begins next month.  Buildings are wrapped in scaffolding and some alleyways are closed off.  Not even this was enough to ruin Edinburgh.

I spent a total of three nights there, once again in a hostel that was located above a pub (allowing me discounts).  I started by walking the Royal Mile, with Edinburgh Castle at one end and Scottish Parliament at the other with a mile of cobblestone street and historic buildings in between.  At the end of the mile is Holyrood Park, a nature area of about 650 acres with a few old volcanoes in the center.  The largest, known as Arthur's Seat because it is thought to be the location of King Arthur's Camelot, supplies magnificent views of Edinburgh.

By night I retired to the local pub scene and learned a few tricks.  For starters, Scotland will never be short on whisky.  It is near mortal sin to walk into a pub and order a shot of Jameson (ask for Jameson, neat, and it is essentially the same idea without the dirty looks).  My favorite pub was Greyfriar's Bobby, not because it was so unique but because of the story behind it.

"Bobby" was a Skye Terrier that belonged to a man named John Gray, a policeman.  Gray died and was buried in Greyfriars Kirkyard (located behind the current pub) and for the next 14 years his grave was guarded by "Bobby" until the pup finally joined his owner at the age of 16.  The dog is widely celebrated and there are a collection of sticks on his tombstone.

Because my time in Britain was coming to a close I was determined to see and do all of the things left on my list.  I had another full English breakfast, complete with black pudding.  Feel free to click the link to read about the ingredients.  I sat at The Elephant House, the cafe where J.K. Rowling wrote the first two Harry Potter novels.  I even enjoyed the street performers so much that I was part of a performance for about 10 minutes (yes, I have film).

Overall, this trip was exactly what I had hoped it would be.  It brought new experiences, new people, new cultures, and new stories to my life.  I saw things I had been longing to see for years.  It was almost daily that I would smile to myself and think "look where you are right now."

It seems fitting that on my first day ever as a traveler in 2011, I met Mike Scopazzo who shared with me the truest sentence I have heard yet.

"The worst day traveling is better than the best day at home."

Greyfriars Bobby Statue outside pub

View from Edinburgh Castle

View from Calton Hill

This is Manchester!

"Somehow the past is a safe place to explore our collective cultural neuroses." -Tom Hiddlestone

The entire time I was traveling and told people about where I was headed, Manchester and Edinburgh received the most praise, so my last two stops were wrapped in high expectation.

I arrived in Manchester on a humid, cloudless day.  Something, I am told, is very rare.  Apart from the social draw, Manchester tugged my interests in a few different directions.  First, it is the birth place of the Industrial Revolution, and since that is a major part of our curriculum I figured it would be a great place to spend a few days.  It is also the home of Manchester United, my favorite football club.

As soon as I had checked into the hostel I was off for Old Trafford.  To tour the stadium costs about 18 pounds but, jokes on them, I would have paid 100.  The tours are so popular that even though I arrived at 1.30 pm I could not get a tour until 3.10 so, with time to kill, I went to the team store and explored the Manchester United museum (they have an entire room dedicated to my favorite player, Ryan Giggs).

The tour took me all around the stadium, into the changing rooms and press rooms, and I even got to walk out of the tunnel.  Our guide was born and bred in Manchester and shared historical facts about the stadium, such as famous matches that had been played there, stories of players who had become legends, and even explained how most of the stadium was destroyed by German bombs during WWII.  All in all, my stay in Manchester was off to a great start.

The following day I started working on my list of museums, with stops at The People's History Museum (which houses the desk where Thomas Paine wrote "The Rights of Man"), John Rylands Library, and The Museum of Science and Industry.  Luckily, all the museums are free.  I got a domestic look at the beginnings of the Industrial Revolution and even stood at the foot of some of the oldest factories in the world (which have now been turned into hotels, mostly).  John Rylands Library, which is located in a neo-Gothic building, has one of the largest special collections in Britain, including one of only forty-nine original Gutenberg Bibles in the world.

You would think I was tired of museums after this but, no.  The next day I toured the National Football Museum, which put a heavy emphasis on the 1966 English team that won the World Cup (but made no mention of the recent 2-1 defeat to Iceland).  I also stopped by Chetham Library, which contains the room in which Karl Marx and Friedrich Engles began writing "The Communist Manifesto" in the 1840s.

The fortunes of the city began to fade after the explosion of the Industrial Revolution, but thanks to a resurgence in the mid-20th century it's the second most popular city in England.  My hostel, which was also in an old factory building, was in the northern quarter.  Bars and restaurants were plentiful and fortunately my hostel organizes pub crawls every Thursday, Friday, and Saturday.  I went all three nights.

The pub crawl really epitomized my favorite part of traveling.  The travelers.  Engaging with open minded people from different places all over the world cannot be mimicked in any domestic situation.  Our group was large, and included people from Argentina, Australia, Italy, France, Germany, Mexico, New Zealand, South Africa, India, Turkey, Sweden, and Venezuela.

No doubt about it, Manchester lived up to the hype.

Old Trafford

Manchester Town Hall

Oxford and Nottingham

"To know what you know and what you do not know, that is true knowledge." -Confucius

I have neglected writing for a few days so I have some catching up to do.  I believe I left off on a train leaving Bath.  My next destination was the city of Oxford.

I was exposed to a taste of the academia that has made Oxford so famous before I even arrived in town.  I was on a platform waiting for my train to Oxford when three girls next to me began a conversation, all Oxford students.  The topic was the Brexit vote and, because the train was delayed, it carried on for around twenty minutes.  I couldn't help but marvel at the basis of many of the arguments and the way they carried on the discussion, mind you I know very little of the actual details of Britain's decision to leave the European Union.  This was not some half drunken debate between people at a bar about how Trump will "make America great again" or Hillary and something regarding emails where the facts they have were found by quickly scrolling through a twitter feed.  This was an actual, in depth, no bs, intellectual conversation.

Oxford was living up to my expectations.

I arrived at my hostel around 1 pm but since I couldn't check in for another two hours I had some time to kill.  I decided to try out the British version of Mexican food.  All you need to know is that California's is much better.

Apparently I timed my visit during Oxford's graduation so nearly every room, including my hostel, was booked solid.  Typically you get a younger, 20-30 something group at hostels.  Because of graduation we had families and grandparents and the like in ours so it wasn't the atmosphere I had hoped.

I started my sight-seeing by actually walking 3 miles north of town to a cemetery  (grim start, I know).  The University of Oxford, as old and prestigious as it is, has a few very well known alumni.  My objective was to track down the headstone of JRR Tolken, which thanks to signposts in the cemetery, only took a few minutes.  While most of the headstones had flowers from loved ones, this one was full of notes from adoring fans.

On my way back to town I had to make a stop at the university.  It is made up of several colleges, each with their own court yard, rather than some vast open campus.  The entire university has been around for centuries so the architecture is quite remarkable.  To the north is the university park, which includes a golf course, and some jogging trails.  Seeing as Britain is in some sort of heat wave, the park was well attended.

I went in the Museum of Natural History for a bit, and a couple older buildings such as Oxford Castle, but found the rest of the town to be just shops and restaurants.

I made the error of booking three nights in Oxford and had ran out of things to see in one.  Seeing as I was considerably the youngest person at the hostel and had two more days to fill, I did what I do best.  Ate from various cafes, drank from various pubs, and wandered.

I found that some of my initial awe at the intellects of Oxford was wearing off.  Most seemed arrogant and from very comfortable upbringings, yet stubborn that their view of a topic was correct.  There is also a slightly different accent in this part of the country.  Of course I would call it formal but the domestic term used is "posh" or "the Queen's English".  This might have contributed to tinge of annoyance with a few of the locals.

Finally, on my last night, two girls around 21 from Canada showed up and were placed in my room.  At last I had a crew near my own age to hit a few pubs with.  A good ending to Oxford.

I have a friend that lives in Nottingham so instead of going straight to Manchester I stopped there for a night.  Nottingham is a nice quiet town, probably because it was summer and most of the students were gone.  My friend Alex took me to a huge park and place they called "Batman's Castle" and we had lunch.  Little did I know that this "castle" was the actual building they used as Wayne Manor in the most recent Batman! I will include a picture at the bottom.

The next day it was back to the train station and off to Manchester, where I am currently.  I leave here Sunday for Edinburgh and then back to Loomis.

Oxford University

Duh-nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh BATMAN!

Salisbury, Stonehenge, and Bath

"Bubbles!" -Dillon

I left London and headed to the town of Salisbury to meet up with some friends I met 4 years ago while travelling in Peru.  Tom and Becca graciously invited me to stay in their spare room for the two nights I was in Salisbury.

Salisbury is best known for its cathedral.  The English-Gothic style structure is topped by the tallest spire in England.  The spire is visible from just about anywhere in the town, but when seen up close it is truly awe-inspiring.  Salisbury also has one of four remaining originals copies of the Magna Carta.

The real highlight of the trip was meeting Tom and Becca's almost 2-year-old son, Dillon.  He is a man of few words, and uses mostly pointing to communicate.  One of his favorite words and all around things in the world is bubbles.  He goes mad and can spend the entire afternoon chasing them.

We went on a walk to Old Sarum, a hill outside of town with a few remaining Roman ruins.  It was the site of the original cathedral but, due to lack of resources, it was decided that it should be moved.  The legend is that they would shoot an arrow from the hill.  Wherever the arrow landed would be site of the new cathedral.  According to the story the fired arrow hit a nearby deer.  The deer took off with the arrow lodged in it, and eventually dropped dead 2 miles away at the site of the current cathedral.

It was nice to get a 360 degree view of the country side as well.  Especially since I am currently reading "The Pillars of the Earth", which is set in this region in the 1100s.  Thank you Julie Melbourne-Weaver for the suggestion and Mike Maben for lending me his copy.

The morning of the 15th I was dropped at Stonehenge while Becca did a small job for a neighbor.  I had been told I would be thoroughly unimpressed with the site, and thus had very low expectations.  I would say it neither blew me away nor let me down.  It is exactly what I thought it would be.  They have redone the visitor center and remarked the area around it so you can actually get quite close during the visit.  I made my way around, snapped a few pictures, and was heading back as the tour buses began streaming in.

In the afternoon I was back on a train and headed to Bath.  Originally not in my plans for Britain, Bath was suggested to me by a traveler I met in London, and since I had a free day I decided to check it out.

Bath is best known for two things: the natural hot springs and consequent Roman bathhouse set upon them, and the the grandest Georgian architecture in Britain.

I decided not to pay the twenty pound entrance fee to the baths, especially since I had already done the Blue Lagoon in Iceland.  Instead, I went on my own tour of the city, starting at the abbey, winding my way around town, and concluding at the Royal Crescent, perhaps the epitome of Bath's Georgian glory.

I was only in Bath for the one night, as I had already reserved a place in Oxford the following day.  So, after enjoying an ice cream cone at the foot of the abbey, I rented a room above a pub for the night before catching another train the next morning.

Bath Abbey

Stonehenge

Salisbury Cathedral

London

"When it's three o'clock in New York, it's still 1938 in London." -Bette Midler

I maintain that the worst part about traveling is, well, the travel.  I awoke at 3.30 am in Iceland to snag a ride to the airport.  My 6 am flight was delayed 2 and half hours but eventually our wheels touched down in London.  Whatever excitement I had as I trudged through the airport was quickly quelled when I saw the line for customs wrapped around the corner and out of sight.  Another 2 hours of waiting.

Like any veteran traveler, I had done my homework and knew which train I had to take to which station to get me from the airport to the hostel.  Alas, the station I was supposed to go to was closed.  Time for a "plan B".  After various other cancellations I finally got on a train headed into London.  From there I took the underground, weighed down with my bag, and walked the remaining 0.6 miles to the hostel.

A former student had suggested I stay near the Tower Bridge, so I did.  I spent 3 days in Wombats City Hostel and let me tell you, a better hostel you will not find.  If Wombats had a hostel in Fargo, North Dakota I might consider going there.  The hostel has all you can eat breakfast, a huge basement bar, and the rooms are all equipped with a bathroom and shower (doesn't happen a lot in hostels).

Free of my heavy bag, freshly showered, and suddenly with new life, I was out to explore the town.  First stop was the Tower Bridge but not before I grabbed a quick bite from a food truck just below the bridge.  I walked across the bridge while eating my dinner and spent some time on the other side just peering in shops and restaurants.  I had always been weary of travel to Britain because of the exchange rate but because of the Brexit vote the Pound Sterling has never been weaker! It made me want to run up to an elderly British person and give them a hug (I didn't because I am foreign and therefore repulse them).

I returned to the hostel in time for the Euro Final which was being shown on a big screen in the bar at the hostel.  I met a traveler named Joe, from Los Angeles, who was at the end of his journey and would be returning home the following day.  Soon after, we were joined by a friendly, and rather attractive Canadian girl and suddenly we had a crew.  The rest of the night sped passed filled with conversations of places we had been and places we were going.

The next morning arrived quicker than I would have preferred, and let's just say I was moving a little slow.  Time was tickin' however so I was out the door by 9 am and ready to be a tourist.  A few things are different here.  For one, you can easily lose 10 pounds just by having a few beers (unfortunately, it's currency).  They also drive on the opposite side of the road.  I knew this coming here but wasn't fully prepared for how confusing it would be.  Seems simple enough, just look the opposite way you normally would when crossing the street.  But somehow in my brain that became quantum physics so at every crosswalk I perform what I have called "The out-of-town octagon" where I look in 8 different directions with dizzying rapidity.  So far, no injuries.

I spent the morning and most of the midday exploring Westminster and seeing sights such as The London Eye, Parliament and Big Ben, Westminster Abbey, and Buckingham Palace just to name a few, and enjoyed the sunlight by eating my lunch in St. James Park.

That evening I successfully navigated the underground up to St. John's Wood so that I could see the famous Abbey Road.  I sat at the striped crosswalk eating my dinner and watching tourists try and recreate the Beatles album cover while their music played through my earbuds.  One group of tourists seemed a little more excited than the others and when I looked up I realized it was John Cho and Karl Urban, who apparently are both in Star Trek and were in town because the premier was the following night.

The next day would be my last full day in London and I still had a lot I wanted to see.  I began with a tour of the Tower of London then headed West into the financial district of the city and in search of St. Paul's Cathedral.  The weather was a little nastier today and in no time at all I had whipped out my rain jacket and continued down the streets.  Some business men were prepared with umbrellas while others simply conceded defeat and walked on with drenched suits.  I eventually found the cathedral as well as a place to warm up and dry off.

Once the rain had finally subsided I was set to meet up with a friend for a few beers.  Jon lives in London with his wife and now 2 year old son.  I first met Jon and his wife 4 years ago in Mancora, Peru.  They are avid travelers.  Erika, his wife, will go to her 99th country later this year!

The rest of my final day in London was spent bar hopping with a few Aussies before turning in for the night.  Today, I will catch a train to the town of Salisbury where I will be staying with a couple I also met in Mancora.  I have a few more hours before by train so I am off to explore London one more time.  Cheers!

Really quick, to Reykjavik

"A journey is best measured in friends, rather than miles." -Tim Cahill

As I write this post I am in the final 12 hours of my time in Iceland.  Our last few days have been diverse and expensive.  What the East part of the island offered in breathtaking landscapes and remoteness, it lacked a certain social element we desired.  So, once again, we were back on the road at about 6 am and heading West.

Along the way we stopped at Jökulsárólon Lake which is filled with ice bergs that have broken off of Vatnajökull Glacier (the largest in Iceland).  The ice slowly melts away until it is small enough to be carried out to sea.

Further on we stopped in Vik, the Southernmost city on the island which offers some stunning black sand beaches and basalt columns.  The cliffs are densely populated with puffins that swirl about in the strong sea breeze.

Our day of driving concluded in the small town of Eyrarbakki.  Located on the coast, it was hard to imagine that this was the leading trade center on the island a few centuries ago.  Now it holds about 500 residents and the noisiest it was during our stay was when one of the houses across from the hostel was mowing her yard.  The town has one bar, which is opened one day a month, and 2 restaurants, both with sporadic hours as well.  There is also a prison on the outskirts of town that was very quiet each time we drove past.  Apparently, in Iceland, if you are sentenced to a prison term and the prison is full at the time, you just carry on living your life until a spot opens up.

From Eyrarbakki we decided our trip would end in Reykjavik, the capitol.  Iceland has a little over 300,000 residents, and 2/3 of them live in Reykjavik.  At the city center there are dozens of shops, cafes, bars, and restaurants, but we had none of them in mind as we headed into town.  Apparently, the best hot dogs in the world are in Reykjavik (seriously, google it.  I'll wait...) so we HAD to give them a try.  After waiting in line for about 20 minutes it was finally our moment of glory.  I've never been great in these situations and often get overly excited, which I did and promptly ordered not one, not two, but three hot dogs.  They were delicious! Best ever? I am still not sure.

Back at our hostel we met another traveler from Oregon and a girl from France.  The four of us got along very well and decided to go out to see this famous bar scene we had read about in Reykjavik.  The night life doesn't really find it's momentum until about 1 am and for some context, we started around 9.  First we stopped in an English pub, then an Irish bar, then an American sports bar, and then a few others, each becoming more crowded than the last.

The night wore on and time seemed to have a mind of it's own.  Soon the streets were crowded with locals, all looking their best.  Although the sun had set, the sky was still glowing and the wind had picked up greatly.  At the mercy of our bank accounts and the realization that I am not 23 anymore, we retired around 2 am.  Getting old is tough.

This morning, Brian and I set out on the same streets as the previous night, this time looking for coffee.  Although it was 9 am, the streets were mostly lifeless and most shops still weren't open.  Iceland very much has the island mentality down pat.  A chocolate croissant and large americano later and we were feeling much more energized and alert.  The runaway locomotive of energy that had engulfed the streets only hours previous was only now starting to grind back into motion.

For the last time, we piled into our rented SUV and drove to the airport to return it.  Brian and I said our goodbyes and he boarded his flight back to Portland while I caught a cab to my hostel in Keflavik.

Keflavik is rather unremarkable and has the feel of an Eastern European city to me.  All of the buildings are concrete and mostly unfinished, the air is cold, and the people unhappy.  I had read that you should only stay here if you have an early flight the next day, since it is near the airport.  I am spending most of my time in my room, repacking, checking flight info, and writing this.

Tomorrow I will catch my 6 am flight and be in London in time for lunch.

       

Chasing Waterfalls

"Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better." -Albert Einstein


Brian and I have ventured East, and the scenery has only improved.  Due to our unpredictable sleep schedules, we awoke at 4 am on July 4th and decided we might as well hit the road, which proved to be a good decision.  We had about 8 hours of driving ahead of us and many stops we wanted to make along the way, so a few hours head start would be beneficial.  On our itineraries, we had hoped to stop at 2 magnificent waterfalls, wreckage of a crashed plane (I'll explain later), the town of Vik, and a lake famous for it's glaciers.

Now, I am not a geologist, so I will explain the scenery in the most accurate way possible, but no promises.  Iceland has over 100 volcanoes.  Many are so close together that they form mountain ranges, and atop those mountains sit massive glaciers.  As the glaciers melt, they run off all sides of the volcanoes, causing more waterfalls than one can hope for.  Less than an hour apart are two of the most beautiful waterfalls one could ever see.  Seljalandsfoss allows you to walk all the way around/underneath it, which granted us some amazing photo opportunities.

Further on down the road is Skogafoss, a waterfall with a legend attached to it.  According to the story, the first viking settler buried his treasure in a cave behind the falls.  We climbed to the top of the falls to gain a different perspective, took some photos, and were back on the road.

Just down the road was a stop I had planned to make since I began my research for this trip.  For a nation that never fought in WWII, Iceland has a direct history to that time period.  The allies used the island as a base, and the Americans stayed for decades after.  An American plane ran out of fuel and crash landed on a beach in the southern part of the island.  No one was killed in the crash but the wreckage is still there to this day.  Determined to find it, we parked our car just off the road and began what would become a 4 km trek over black sand beaches until we found it.  The plane is relatively intact, apart from missing both wings and it's tail.  I will attach photos of all the sights at the bottom of this post.

The search for the plane took longer than expected so we decided to forgo the last two stops we had planned and hit them on our return trip in a few days.  Once again, we hit the open road, and nature presented us with remarkable landscapes.  Jagged mountains carved by centuries of glaciers spilled out onto lava fields which transformed to black sand beaches.  Although the island is only the size of the state of Indiana, it takes a long time to get anywhere.  The speed limit never rises about 90 km/h (55 mph) although we have a tendency to drive faster than that as there are rarely anyone else for miles and miles.  It should be noted, since no one told us, that Iceland installs cameras randomly around the island to catch people speeding.  You know because as you drive by you see a flash of red light and your heart sinks.  So far, we have gotten 2 tickets, but Brian was driving both times (haha!).

For the last 3 hours of the drive we hugged the perimeter of the Eastern fjords.  Each fjord has a small community attached to it, which I believe survives on fishing.  We stayed in a hostel that was in the second largest town in the East (which I will not even try and write because most of the characters are not from our alphabet).  It is the 28th biggest city on the island with 1,118 people.  Fun fact, Brian and I discovered that Las Vegas is the 28th biggest city in the US so we basically stayed at the Icelandic version of Vegas.

The next day we hit the road and retraced our tire marks to the city of Hofn, which is essentially nothing.  It is the largest city in the South East, and after miles of solitude I suppose it might as well be a metropolis, but a population of 2,167 is hardly impressive.  It was founded by French settlers as a fishing community so it has both French and Icelandic influence.  We had time to kill since we couldn't check into our next spot for a few hours, so we walked around town and did some grocery shopping before hitting the road again.

We have a cabin for tonight in a remote corner of Iceland.  We did a little exploring today and found a waterfall about 2 km from the cabin.  Because of the consistent mist from the falls, a thick layer of moss had grown on the surrounding rocks.  It did make the climb up them a little softer than expected but the moss was so thick that it masked the holes between rocks, meaning one misstep could send you plunging between two boulders.  Luckily, we were able to get up close without any incident.  The rest of our day is going to be spent enjoying the view and planning our final days here.  Brian flies back to Portland on the 9th and I am off to London on the 10th.

We plan to head back to Reykjavik on the 8th and do a little partying before we depart.  I will have one more post from Iceland before my journey continues.

              Seljalandsfoss                                                 Skogarfoss

              Plane wreck                                                          Fjord

The Haves and the Have Nots

"Beauty is power; a smile is its sword." -John Ray

After my first full day in Iceland I feel that I am becoming familiar with what the island does and doesn't offer.  A few things that are just about impossible to find here: a place that serves breakfast, any Iceland soccer apparel on match day, or a large quantity of trees.  If none of those are deal breakers for you, then you're in for a treat.

Iceland has a plethora of natural wonders, wind, and the world's most beautiful women.  I mean honestly, they are drop-dead, slap-yourself-in-the-face-so-you-know-aren't-dreaming, pick-your-jaw-up-off-the-floor, blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauties that will make you hate yourself for not being able to say something clever in Icelandic... Or English (or even create a full sentence).

Anyways, let's talk about nature.  Brian and I left the hostel at around 8 am and drove through the Golden Circle which includes 3 main sights: a national park, waterfall, and geyser.  We hiked between the European and North American tectonic plates, which drift apart about 18mm a year,  spent a few minutes watching the boiling water be shot from the sky in Geysir (yes, that is the name all "geysers" were derived from, and finished it out with a stop at Gullfoss one of the largest waterfalls in Europe and a very popular tourist attraction.

We concluded our Golden Circle expedition and retired to the small, seaside town of Eyrarbakki.  When we arrived, we were the only people staying in the hostel so we promptly capitalized on the silence and took a 2 hour nap.  I realize that in both my posts so far I have alluded to the necessity of sleep, but the 24 hours of daylight has thrown my circadian rhythm completely offbeat.  As I write this, it is 10:36 pm but outside you would think it was noon.

After a brief siesta we were back to Reykjavik, about an hours drive, to watch the soccer match of Iceland vs. France.  Iceland has never qualified for a major tournament but have taken Europe by storm and advanced to the quarterfinals of the Euros.

 I spent a large portion of our time before the game trying to track down an Iceland jersey, scarf, or even beanie but to no avail.  The patriotism in this country is remarkable, or at least it was on match day.  Manikins in windows donned Iceland jerseys or had flags draped over them, all employees were decked out in the red, white, and blue of Iceland (some even with painted faces), and stores were closing up prior to game time.  Over 8% of the country had actually ventured to France to support the team and I even heard, though I have no way of verifying if this is true, that all but 70 citizens watched Iceland defeat England in the previous round.

Brian and I carved out a bit of grass on a hill in front of the big screen with about 15,000 locals and watched the game, well really just the first half.  By half-time France had a 4-0 lead so we decided to begin the drive back to our hostel.  Tomorrow we will journey to the East side of the island, making a few stops along the way at landmarks that have caught our attention.  I will be sure to include pictures of those adventures as well.

For now, I am going to finish my rum (don't judge me, Hemingway did this while writing too) and retire.  I hope everyone has a fun and safe 4th of July.

But seriously, the women here beat out Colombia which I didn't think was possible.

                                   Gullfoss                                      North American/European tectonic plates

Iceland

"Recovery from complete and utter exhaustion facilitates creativity." -Philip Gary Smith

I'm tired.

I realize that's an awful start after 4 years of silence on this blog, but it's true.  I woke up at 3.30 am (local time in California) to say goodbye to my little brother who was moving to Arizona.  My flight to Iceland left at 2:15 pm.  The plan was to stay awake, have a few drinks at an airport bar before my flight, and sleep most of the 9 hours we were in the air.  I will say that I executed the first half of the plan to precision.  The trouble came when I boarded the plane.

Long story short, I had an aisle seat, my chair didn't recline, and I sat next to a couple that was a little more "hands on" than I would have appreciated.  Luckily, the girl diagonal from me was watching movies most of the flight so I got to enjoy silent versions of "Zootopia" and "Dark Knight Rises".

Nevertheless, we made it Iceland at 5:45 am local time.  It is now 3:20 pm locally so I have been awake for something like 4,397 straight hours and am delirious.  I have also discovered that my power adapter doesn't work with my 3-pronged laptop charger so I need to solve that problem at some point.

Anyways, let's talk about Iceland.  I am traveling with my friend Brian Crow, who lives in Portland, Oregon.  We tend to be flexible with our itineraries so we get along just fine.  We got our rental car around 7 am and addressed the biggest issue we had immediately.  Our empty stomachs.  The problem is, Iceland only has a population of around 320,000 and a large percentage of them have gone to France for the upcoming soccer match.  No where on the island was open to sell breakfast at 7 am on a Saturday.  We drove around Reykjavik, a city that holds 2/3 of the population, for an hour before finding a gas station that sold food.  It also needs to acknowledged that they might have more Subway restaurants per capita than anywhere on Earth, although none are open.

With our stomachs full and our spirits higher, we headed for the number one tourist attraction, the Blue Lagoon.  While outside there was a biting wind and temperatures around 46 F, inside the water it was anywhere from 96-102.  A very relaxing start to our Iceland experience.

After we had a good long soak, it was back in the car for the hour drive to Selfoss.  Due to exhaustion we decided this would be our last stop of the day.  We have set up camp here at a hostel and are trying to stay awake until the respectable 8 o'clock hour and hopefully cure jet lag.  While the first day may seem uneventful to you, it has been a struggle for us.  3 coffees and a 5 hour energy proved ineffective.  Tomorrow we have a lot of hiking planned so rest is needed, as is food.  For now, I am going to conserve my laptop battery.  More to come soon.

Endings

“A man travels the world in search of what he needs and returns home to find it.” -George Moore
　
     Everything ends. Five months ago I sat in the terminal at LAX. Completely uncertain about what the next five months would bring, how I would react, who I would become because of it. I sit once again in the terminal at LAX. This time waiting to board a northbound flight. Not at all curious about what I’ll find once I land. It will all be familiar yet strangely foreign. A place I once knew, as though in a past life.

     The experiences I had will never be rivaled. From the clubs in Medellin, to staying in a penthouse apartment in Bogota, to living in the Upper Amazon with a shaman for a month, each day was a brand new adventure. The people I met along the way opened my mind to what life in all other corners of the world is like. There are good people all over. From different backgrounds, ethnicities, and social classes, kindness is a world-wide quality that everyone benefits from.

     To be honest, the people were the best part of the trip. You roll into a hostel, tired from the 20 hour bus ride you just endured, and your greeted by a group of travelers from Norway. Or a pair of girls from France. Or most likely a few solo Australians or Canadians or even Israelis. You share stories over a beer about where you’ve been, where you’re going, and any helpful tips you have to contribute to their travels. One beer turns into four and now you’re talking about your life back home. Or stories from earlier in the trip. Four beers turns into seven and now you have some brand new best friends. By the end of the stay, no matter if it’s a day or a week, I would always leave with the same offer, “If you’re ever in California you have a place to stay.” Most of the time they return the offer. Then the friendship solidified and you board another bus, to another town, to another hostel, to more friends.

     I urge all of you, if you have the opportunity, to travel abroad. I am lucky. I had no ropes tethering me anywhere. No relationships that couldn’t survive distance for five months, no job I wouldn’t be able to get again. I was gone for five months. 119 days. I managed to spend less than $5,000 on this trip which includes my flights and the issue with my passport at the beginning. I stayed in group dorms in hostels, ate at cheaper establishments, and took buses over planes and loved every minute of it. Overall I logged about 5,500 miles on buses. I saw the world. I saw wealth. I saw poverty. I even saw both of them existing a few feet from each other. And I learned. I learned about the important things and the insignificance of so much we hold dear. I hope to hold onto these lessons as I return to a culture that gets confused with materialism and superficiality.

     I was sitting here getting lost in memories when the woman next to me brought reality crashing down upon me. She’s one of those loud phone talkers and she’s lecturing her friend about what sort of topic is appropriate to discuss in a mass-text. I did not miss people like this. It is time to board the plane now, and by the time I post this I will be safely back in northern California to see my family and friends. Thanks to all of you have followed along, all of you I met along this journey, all who helped me along the way, and all of you who I have to come back to. I’ll resume this blog again for my next adventure, and trust me there will be more. Since I have started every post with a quote, I feel like it would be fitting to end the final post with one. From the late great Louis Armstrong, “And I think to myself, what a wonderful world”.



The Home Stretch

“Everyday you may make progress.  Every step may be fruitful.  Yet there will stretch out before you an ever-lengthening, ever-ascending, ever-improving path.  You know you will never get to the end of the journey.  But this, so far from discouraging, only adds to the joy and glory of the climb.”  -Winston Churchill


     Hello world.  It’s been a short while since I gave the ol’ blog a new story so I had to change that.  I think I last left off telling you all that I had just arrived back in Mancora to begin volunteering at the hostel.  Well, I am still here and life is still sweet.  This post will lack tales of great adventure but hopefully you will get an idea of what my day to day life is like.  I typically work 3-4 days a week behind the bar.  Bartending at the hostel is great fun as it supplies you with an easy way to meet the continuous flow of travelers.  We have activities every afternoon to try and get more people involved, and each night there are drinking games, karaoke, or themed parties.  Last night I sang a very horrible rendition of “How Do I Live?” by Leann Rimes.  It’s amazing how ridiculous one can act when you have no shame.  Last Saturday we had a pirate themed party, which I bartended dressed as a Somalian pirate.  The week before was an ABC (anything but clothes) party.  Bring out the bed sheets and plastic bags!


     Volunteering here definitely has its perks.  I get to stay for free, get free breakfast, one additional free meal, and my 3rd meal is discounted at 40%.  Down time is plentiful.  The hostel has a pool, which is often murky, restaurant, bar, a few hammocks, and its own private beach which supplies some of the best sunsets you will ever see.  I fill my days with naps, reading, and conversing with fellow travelers.


     I think this will be my second to last post.  I will leave Mancora on May 3rd and once again make the 20+ hour bus ride to Lima, where I fly home from on May 6th.  Looking at a map I haven’t covered the ground I wanted to in my 5 months down here but where ever I was is where I was supposed to be.  I wouldn’t trade any of these experiences.  


     I have been trying to connect with life back in the states more in hopes to avoid culture shock upon my return, but most of it is a distant memory.  I left as a wide-eyed wanderer and will return as a long hair and bearded drifter that suddenly needs to find a job.  I think learning to live with my feet on the ground after flying for 5 months will be the greatest challenge.  I also really look forward to shaving this beard off.  I told a lot of friends that I would keep it the entire time I was in South America and I must say, I’m sick of it.  Food gets stuck in it, bugs fly into it, sand finds its way in it, and apart from instantly being qualified for 4 roles in any nativity play I don’t see much use for it.  Ditching the beard and In-N-Out Burger are two huge perks of returning home (behind family and friends of course).  I’ll wrap up this post now.  I had a long night last night and consumed a few more drinks than I should have so I reckon I’ll take a nap.  You will here from me again either just before I depart or shortly after I arrive in California.  Ciao!

Huacachina

“There are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind.” -C.S. Lewis


     About two hours north of Nazca is the desert oasis town of Huacachina.  Basically consisting of Hostels, restaurants, internet cafes, and travel agencies built around a lagoon, this small piece of paradise is a must-see for any backpacker.  Gigantic sand dunes surround the lagoon from all sides and miles of desert disappear into the horizon.  The major city near Huacachina is Ica, which is one of the driest places on Earth.
     I arrived the Friday before Easter which made finding a room anything but easy.  After being quoted on a few that were well out of my budget I finally found a reasonably priced 18-bed dormitory.  I was able to grab a quick bite, take a dip in the pool, and then begin my climb of a massive sand dune in time to watch the sunset over the desert.
     I’ve probably said this before but one of the greatest parts of traveling are the people you meet.  That night I found myself at a table playing King’s Cup (a drinking game involving cards and wacky rules) with people from The States, Holland, Australia, England, Scotland, and Canada.  Someone had the brilliant idea to make a rule that forced everyone to try and talk like the person to their left.  Needless to say the rest of the game was very entertaining.
     The next day was spent exploring the town a bit more and relaxing poolside.  I had booked a sand tour for that evening.  One hour for 40 soles ($16).  The tour was much more of a rush than I had anticipated.  You and about 9 others cram into a buggy and are driven up and over dunes, dropping quickly down the other side, taking sharp turns and going up more.  Twice the buggy stopped at the top and we all got out and sand boarded down.  I assumed sand boarding would be a lot like snow boarding, which I have never done.  Instead, you lay on your stomach with the board underneath you and start sliding down the dune.  This ground level view of the rapidly approaching desert floor really gets the adrenaline pumping.  The last dune was so high and the descent so rapid that my ear popped on the way down, the same as when you land in an airplane.
     Easter morning arrived and my time in Huacachina came to a close.  I boarded a bus to Lima (4 hours) then found another bus that would take me back to Mancora (20 hours).  I am in Mancora now, back at the hostel I spent a week in when I first arrived in Peru.  I have about 23 days left in South America and will spend almost all of it volunteering at the hostel.  Basically I work 15-20 hours a week in the bar but I get to stay for free and get 2 free meals.  I know that the blog has been lacking some excitement in my latest posts so I will do my best to throw myself in dangerous situations and add some flare to it.  Also, I have finally uploaded pictures from the last few months.  I hope everything is great in you’re part of the world. Until next time, Ciao!

Nazca Lines

“An optimist is a guy that has never had much experience.” -Don Marquis

     I had no idea that the most exciting part of the next 24 hours or so would be the bus ride from Puno to Arequipa.  While our 2 story bus weaved through the Andes we suddenly found ourselves in the midst of an ice storm.  Soon after, all the windows fogged up and for the next 20 minutes we sat, basically in the dark, as the bus slid around corners.  Eventually I made it Arequipa and found another bus for Nazca.
     The only tourist draw Nazca has is the Nazca lines.  Nine giant images carved into the desert ground. The images are so big that they can only really be appreciated from great heights.  It wasn’t until 1940 when Paul Kosok, who was in the area studying ancient irrigation systems, flew over the lines and realized they weren’t for irrigation at all.  Though the purpose for the lines is not completely known, it put Nazca on the map.
     I arrived in Nazca at 4.15 am.  The bus I was on was continuing to Lima and I was the only person getting off at Nazca.  No sooner had I bent down to pick up my bag when a car jetted around the corner and screeched to a halt next to me.  A man got out and started rambling off facts about his hostel.  I had already booked a room at a hostel but I wasn’t sure if they would have anyone to let me in at that ungodly hour.  I realize this wasn’t the best idea but I allowed the guy to take me to my hostel anyways.  The whole ride over he was trying to get me to commit to doing the air tour of the lines with his company.
     Turns out no one was awake to let me in the hostel and after the guy continued on about how every hostel in the city was full but he could offer me a sofa and place to store my bags until my hostel opened I finally gave in.  He charged me 10 soles ($4) to crash on his “sofa” which was really just like a wicker love seat.  I don’t think I ever fell asleep and by the time the sun was up I grabbed my bag and left.
     I had made plans to meet up with a 19-year-old girl from Holland that was on my Machu Picchu trek but she wouldn’t arrive until early evening.  Neither of us had the budget to afford a flight over the lines so I decided I would wait until she was there to go to the observation tower, which gives a decent view of two of the symbols.  This gave me a whole day to kill in Nazca, something that sounds easier than it actually is.  Nazca has very little to offer.  If it weren’t for all the gravity and oxygen you might even think you managed to land on the moon.  Dirt and rocks cover the otherwise flat landscape.  I walked around the town, ate some lunch, and poked around a few shops and that still left me with about 6 hours to go.  Movies and naps are my go to time killers.
     Long story short, we went to the observation tower the next day and were thoroughly disappointed.  Maybe if you do the proper tour in a plane the lines may be more impressive but from the lookout tower the lines looked… fake.  I had seen hundreds of pictures of Machu Picchu before I visited and was still blown away.  When it comes to the Nazca lines, pictures were enough.

Puno

“Age is how we determine how valuable you are.” -Jane Elliot

     From Cuzco I traveled 6 hours southeast to the town of Puno.  Puno is known as the folkloric capital of Peru because of it’s years of dedication to the arts, particularly dance, and like most South American cities I have traveled to there are an abundance of handcrafts for sale just about everywhere.  The town itself is nothing special and I only stayed there for a day.

     Puno is located on Lake Titicaca which is the largest lake in South America and at 12,500 feet one of the highest in the world.  The main reason tourists go to Puno is to tour the Floating Islands.  The islands are made of plants, mud, and bits of drift wood.  The Uro people have lived on the islands for generations and originally the islands mobility made them useful if threat arose.  Tours of the islands are generally not well received by tourists.  I have yet to meet one that said they enjoyed it.  Most of the people on all the islands pressure you into buying crafts or just giving them money, and since they are the guides of your boat you have little choice.

     Between the even higher altitude and very cold weather I didn’t explore much of the city.  I went to the main plaza and surrounding area and even tried some Chinese food for the first time since being down here.  For 5 soles ($2) I had a huge plate of mostly chicken, rice, sautéed veggies, and cut up hot dogs.  Not what I was expecting but anything is great for $2.  The rest of the day was spent hanging around the hostel talking with two Australian girls who were planning their trip to Machu Picchu and an American who ended up accompanying me West the following day.  I took a 6 hour bus to Arequipa and then a 10 hour bus to my destination, Nazca.

Cuzco

“The worst thing about new books is that they keep us from reading the old ones.” -John Wooden


     I like to think of my time in Cuzco as a game of two halves, with a very long halftime.  Rather than a tale of two cities, it’s a tale of the same city…twice.  I arrived in Cuzco on the 25th of March.  The 23 hours bus ride paired with the altitude made my arrival less than pleasant.  I had been at sea level for almost the entirety of the last 7 weeks, except for a few days in Vilcabamba, Ecuador.  Altitude sickness is no joke.  The rapid ascent from sea level to 11,200 feet left me dizzy, tired, dehydrated, and with a terrible headache.  Upon my arrival I said a quick hello to Jackie’s family before downing some coca tea (supposed to help with altitude sickness) and then doing some extreme napping for four hours.  I awoke feeling, at least functional, and was ready to explore the city.
     Cuzco was the capital city of the Incan Empire until the Spanish took it over in 1534.  Though most of the architecture is Spanish, there is still a large tribute to the Incan civilization.  The city has about 300,000 residents but receives close to 2 million visitors a year.  Most of the people, like myself, make it a starting point for Machu Picchu.  In 2010 heavy rains caused the site to close for 2 months which lost Cuzco between an estimated $200-$400 million in tourist revenue.  Lucky for us that wasn’t the case, and we left the city for our four day trek.
     The return to Cuzco was much appreciated, as it supplied me with the opportunity to sleep in and have a warm shower, two things I had been neglected for four days.  Also, now fully adjusted to the altitude, I saw the city in a new light.  The Plaza De Armas is massive and is the hub for most tourists.  Surrounded by shops and restaurants (even a Starbucks and KFC) it also has a huge statue/fountain in the center and not one but TWO giant churches.  Most hotels and hostels are within a few blocks of the plaza.  A side note: Jack’s Café, about 2 blocks East, has the best BLT I have ever tasted.  I made sure by eating 3 of them.  I even found a pub that was showing the Final Four games.
     My last two days in Cuzco were spent doing much of the same, eating.  Because of so many tourists, Cuzco has just about every kind of food you could want.  It had been a long while since I had indulged in decent Mexican food but I found my fix.  My last full day I decided to walk to the bus station, roughly 3 km away, to get a ticket to Puno the next morning.  Getting out of the tourist district I was able to see a brand new side of Cuzco.  Like most South American cities it had small restaurants, bakeries, and general stores.  It was also nice to not be hounded by someone trying to sell me something I had no use for (the guys that sell sunglasses are relentless).
     I made it back with plenty of time to spare before the national championship.  I was met at the pub by two Americans that were on the trekking group with me and we did our best to support Kansas.  Luckily, the game coincided with happy hour, and the way it played out the drinks were much appreciated.  The following morning I left Cuzco for the second time.  This time with no return visit on the horizon.
     I am going to be doing a lot of hopping around in the next few days so I'll try and keep the blog as up-to-date as possible.

Machu Picchu

“The whole history of civilization is strewn with creeds and institutions that were invaluable at first, and deadly afterwards.” -Walter Bagehot

     Just a forewarning, this will be a very long post.  Unplug the phone, make yourself a sandwich and get comfortable.  In this blog entry I will go into detail about my 4 day trek through the Andes which ended at Machu Picchu.
     A little background first on Machu Picchu.  The city was built in the mid 15th century by the Incas but abandoned just 100 years later due to the Spanish conquest.  It is believed that a majority of the inhabitants died from smallpox.  The Spanish did their best to destroy much of the Inca empire but for some reason they left the city untouched.  Our trek began at 7 am on Tuesday morning and would last 4 days ending at one of the Seven Wonders of the World.

Day 1
     Rain. We boarded a bus Tuesday morning with 11 other tourists and 2 guides, drove two hours past the town of Quillabamba to an elevation of 4,350 meters (14,270 feet) and began our 60 km bike ride through the Andes.  The ride was basically all downhill and the wind and rain made sure we were all wide awake.  Hands frozen, eyes squinting through the rain, we careened down mountains, through small towns, and even through a few streams, which splashed up at us drenching the only remaining dry part.  After 3 hours and the most amazing views of mountains and valleys, our group arrived damp and covered in mud and smiles ready for lunch.  After lunch we grabbed our bags and began the hike to our camp for night number 1.  My only pair of shoes were completely soaked so I did the afternoon hike in flip flops.  We arrived at our first “hostel” at about 5.00pm.  It was located on the side of a mountain and offered amazing views.  It was basically a family farm and they had an extra cabin built with around 10 beds jammed inside.  We hung our clothes, had dinner, and were in bed by 9.

Day 2
     By some miracle, my shoes had dried overnight.  We woke at 7 am and were on the trail by 8.  The first 20-30 minutes were steep.  Passing through highly vegetated areas and breaking a sweat before 8.30 is not how I am used to starting my days.  I don’t know a proper training regimen for uphill treks at high altitude, but I would not recommend spending the 7 weeks leading up to it at sea level drinking significant amounts of beer and eating fried food (I dealt with altitude sickness the first two days in Cuzco but luckily was back in action by the start of the hike).
     Eventually we broke through the brush and had wide open views of the surrounding mountains, the valley below, and river snaking through it all.  We continued.  At times the path got so narrow it was impossible not to look down into the valley.
     Onward we walked, finally ending at a small secluded restaurant for lunch.  After a solid meal and quick power nap in a hammock it was back on the trail.  Finally we had made it down to the river, crossing about six streams on the way.  The walk through the valley was unbelievable.  The mountains surround you and reach so high they seem to close around you.  We ended up crossing the river 2 times, once by zip line and once by bridge.  An old rickety bridge like in Indiana Jones.  I began thinking that the trip was well worth the price of admission even without Machu Picchu because the scenery was some of the most beautiful I had ever seen.
     The day came to a close at some natural hot springs.  It felt wonderful to soak in the water and share some friendly conversation with the fellow trekkers.  Our group was 17 people, the majority of them around my age.  After a lengthy soak we took a short 40 minute walk into the town of Santa Teresa, where our hostel was.
     Our guide made the mistake of telling us that there was a “discoteca” (dance bar) in town.  You can’t expect fifteen 20-somethings who just became friends to “take it easy” with a bar just one street over.  We took the place by storm and paid the price the next day.

Day 3
     Some of us woke up at 7 am, others were still awake from the night before.  Needless to say the next morning was a struggle. We ate breakfast and then headed out in the vans for a short 20 minute drive to the place we would begin the day.  The third day had a little added thrill to it.  We began our trek not with a hike but with zip lining.  A total of 6 zip lines to be exact.  The highest was 400 meters above the ground and the fastest went 70 km/hour.  That took the majority of the morning and we only had a short hike after that until lunch.
     Just before we headed out after lunch the rain came.  We quickly covered our packs, put on ponchos and set out.  The next 2 hours or so we walked in silence.  Most of us still too tired from the previous night and now battling the added annoyance of mother nature.  Finally, we arrived soaked and tired in Aguas Calientes.  Again we went through the usual ritual of hanging up all our wet clothes, which was almost everything, and then heading to dinner.  After dinner almost everyone went straight to bed.  After all, tomorrow would be a big day.

Day 4
     We woke up at 4 am.  I put on the driest clothes I had, none of which were completely dry, and we were on the trail by 4.45 am.  Machu Picchu opens at 6 am so we had a little over an hour to climb about 1,300 feet.  The way up is entirely stairs.  It was the most tiring thing I have ever done hands down.  For an hour I walked up stairs, legs burning, not daring to look up.  Up and up I went, my lungs never seeming to get enough air with each breathe.  I didn’t dare stop thinking it would be too hard to start again.  Sweat dripped down my face and off the tip of my nose.  The sun slowly came up, lighting the ground in front of me, but the clouds and mist made the top invisible.  Thinking it was still just out of site I powered on.  Lungs and legs burning, shirt completely soaked, I reached the top and slowly lifted my eyes.
     The bus stop at the top of entrance to the Machu Picchu is hardly the reward I was expecting for climbing what felt like a billion steps.  Needless to say it provided a bench for me to sit while I waited for the rest of the group.  Finally we were all accounted for and joined the queue outside.  The people from the buses all looked well rested and excited, our excitement was hidden behind exhaustion but just as prevalent none the less.
     We entered Machu Picchu early so the mist was still hanging around, hiding Huayna Picchu from view.  We had around a 2 hour tour, which was torture.  I think we all just wanted to explore the place on our own.  The tour ended around 9.30 am.
     If you look at most pictures of Machu Picchu there are the ruins in the foreground and two mountains in the back.  The taller one is Huayna Picchu.  It was used for military purposes by the Incas.  They only allow 400 people to climb it each day.  16 of the 17 people in our group had pre-purchased tickets to climb it but, for some, the first climb was too much and they opted out of Huayna Picchu.  I went with 4 others and we climbed another 1,000 feet only to be greeted by the most amazing view of Machu Picchu below.  Just as we got to the top it started to rain, which made the way down somewhat dangerous.  We finished the hike and got a few last pictures in the city before leaving and taking the bus back to Aguas Caliente.
     By this time I had no dry shirts left.  I changed into the driest shorts I had and then walked through town without a shirt on, went into the first store I came to, and made a quick purchase.  It felt fantastic to have a dry shirt on again.
     Everything ends.  We took a train about an hour or so to Ollanta and then a bus back to Cuzco.  Finally getting to the hostel around 11 pm.  It had been a trip of a lifetime but all we really needed and wanted now was sleep.  One down, six to go.