I have stayed in this hotel twice. The first time was for almost three weeks. The grounds of the hotel gives you a feeling of being in a park. It was always clean and the staff there has always been nice and have helped me to the best of there abilities. Sometimes it was difficult because my Spanish is not so good and they do not speak much English. There is a restaurant on site along with a lounge. The food is good but is better in town if you want to make the trek. Here is the downfall of the hotel. It is a good distance from the Plaza, I am guessing somewhere around a mile, so any shopping, eating, banking or site seeing you would like to do would require a taxi or a good distance of walking at high altitude. Also, the hotel is gated and not marked real well so to get to it by taxi make sure that the driver knows where it is. We ran into a couple taxi drivers who did not know where it was. As far as amenities go they have everything you need. A full bath with a shower, cable television, wireless internet and there was a small safe in my room. They also will do same day laundry service if you get it in to the front desk in the morning. There is no temperature control though so the nights did tend to get pretty cold but they do give you some heavy blankets to help keep you warm. The beds are decent and can be a little stiff if you are used to something softer but I never had much of a problem falling to sleep at night. The price for a single is somewhere around $50/US a night and I think the doubles are $60/US. I would confirm with them before you book. If you do not mind being a little bit farther away from the sites in town this is a great place to stay. It has most of the comforts you need without the greater expence of being close to the Plaza de Armas.

Well being tired was not enough to get through that night on my butcher block.  I barely got any sleep and decided that finding a new hotel might be a good thing.  I met Victor and Daniel downstairs at the hotel restaurant, which is not bad, for breakfast.  We need to go get our picture taken today for our IDs to get into the Yanacocha mine and then head up the hill for some meeting.  After the glamour shot session we stopped by another hotel, El Hotel Ingenio, to check it out.  The place was pretty nice outside and room was still just ok, but, I am in a small town in Northern Peru. This room was a bit bigger with great TV reception and the bed is more like a soggy piece of plywood but better than the night before.  We head back to the other hotel grab our stuff, check out and check into the new place.  Although it is a little farther from the main square I was willing to give it a shot.  It has wireless internet that has worked well in my room, the door opens up outside to a nice patio, more English speaking channels on TV, laundry service, restaurant and the people and atmosphere are great.  They even exchanged 20 bucks for me at the front desk.  Oh, and just for reference, you do have to mess with the settings to turn off the SAP so you can get the English part of the show.

So we meet back in the front of the hotel, sans Victor, and grab a cab to the Mine.  We get up the road about 15 minutes and traffic is stopped.  Apparently there are protestors blocking the road so people can not get to the mine.  I guess this a fairly normal accurence and decide not to wait it out and head back to town.

Now we have the rest of the afternoon so we decide to check out some sites.  First off we head to the Inca Baths. These are hot springs that have been around since the Inca times. You can rent a bath room for half an hour there and they will fill it up for you so there is about 10 people out side this thing with baskets of shampoo and soap to buy.  Man talk about competition.  We no sooner get our tickets and walk through the front gate and it begins to pour.  We wait it out under an over hang for about 10 minutes when Victor arrives and does not want to pay to get in so I run out and take some quick pictures in the rain and head for the exit. 

It is about lunch time and we head down the dirt road, past the tourist booths where they try to sell you things and around the corner to what looks like a rundown strip mall with meat hanging on a string to dry and outside cookers.  I follow Victor and Daniel through these restaurants like they are trying to find out where to eat.  To me, the menu looked the same in all of them.  They decide on one and I find out they have fried Cuy (guinea pig) and I figure I have got to try it.  They order for me and get an appetizer that consisted of the pork that was hanging out to dry mixed with egg and I am not sure what else but it was pretty good.  Finally, my ¼ of Cuy arrives with the little leg and paw still intact.  What I got from this is that it pretty much tastes like chicken with a lot less meat.  We finish and the rain has subsided to a light sprinkle and we head back to the baths for some pictures.

From the baths we head to the Plaza de Armas to see the Ransom Room.  A Spaniard by the name of Francisco Pizarro took over this town from the Incas by ambushing Atahualpa.  This guy was almost like some kind of Incan god.  He was held prisoner in this room and offered Pizarro to fill it with gold and silver for his release.  Pizarro took this deal and held Atahualpa for 8 months while he filled this room before just killing him anyway.  This room was part of his palace and is the only Incan structure left standing in this town.  The Spanish used the rest of the rocks from his palace to build there own buildings.

I forgot to mention that when we arrived at the ransom room a guy offered to take all three of us on a tour of the ransom room and the first church of Cajamarca for 8 sol a piece (about $4 US) and figured a decent deal and he did it in the best English that he could.  So, the first church is also attached to the first hospital with a courtyard in the middle.  We go into the church first and it is like something you see on one of those travel shows.  It is amazing on how people built these grand buildings so many years ago.  The hospital is pretty small with the rooms being holes in the walls just wide enough for someone to lay in.  It is shaped like a cross that has an alter at the top that the patients always faced.  It had no heat and the doctor was the Priest.  This was basically a place where they came to slowly die.  Amazingly enough this was the only hospital in Cajamarca until sometime in the 1960s.  Overall, a good 4 bucks spent.

At this time it is 5 in the afternoon and we head back to the hotel since we had to meet the driver to take us up to the mine at 4am.

Another early wakeup cause the customer wanted to check some stuff.  I thought it would take a couple hours but it ended up taking 7.  We got there at 6 am so we still had an afternoon.  Daniel wanted to go to this place called Porcon (Por Cone).  The turn off for it was on the way back from the mine and I had my camera with me so I was all for it. 

The road to this place was basically an off road trail for about 15 miles.  The ride sucked but being able to see the back country of this area was worth it.  The sun was out, first time since I have been here, and it is amazing the colors of green that this place holds.  There is somewhat of a gate that they will charge you three sols (about a buck US) to get through to continue on. 

We arrived in this very small town and ate lunch at the restaurant (yes I only saw one) that serves trout.  Now this may not be a big deal for most of you but there is really not much seafood in this town due to the fact that they usually only cook what is readily available.  From what I heard this is one of the few places in Peru that serves it cause they catch it in the river that runs through it.  It was actually very good and I would have it again if I ever went back.

This is a very small farming community that is almost all self sustained on hydroelectric power.  They have even planted there own trees so they can cut those down and minimize the impact on the environment and keep it as close to natural as possible.  I read that they are government subsisted to help them also.  The main attraction is the zoo though.  Now when I heard we going to check out the zoo I was thinking, “Great, there will be some local birds and some small local animals.”  I was very wrong.  Though it did have the previous mentioned but it also had these monkeys which were very friendly and would take the food right out of your hand.  There were bears, leopards, a lion, a condor, a puma, and a ton of other exotic animals not native to Peru.  Did I mention they charged nothing to get in?  It is pretty haplessly built though.  The only thing between you and a Leopard is a chain link fence wired to some posts.  One of the guys I was with leaned over to take a look and I guess got a little too close to the freaking huge cat and the Leopard growled as he lunged at him hitting the fence about a foot from his face.  Being the nice guys that we are we laughed for about five minutes at his genius.

We were there for about three hours before we headed back.  Our driver took us a different way out than we came in and we went through what I would call a village.  It is hard to believe on how simple these people live and they are always smiling as you drive past them walking up and down the road.  I saw a family trying to walk a small heard of cattle up a steep hill that I would have to think about trying to climb and another kid getting his sheep off the road by hitting them with a stick.  PETA would go nuts on this place.  This was one trip I would encourage anyone who finds themselves in Cajamarca to take.  There are very few places with the scenery and culture that this place holds.

Nothing really exciting this day.  I was up at 3 am and worked all day.  We did go to a Chinese restaurant because the Peru guys here have told me how good it was. 

On to Cajamarca-Day 1 (A Looooooooooong day)

My alarm goes off at 3:30am.  I shower, get dressed and I am out the door about 4am.  I head to the Aero Condor ticket counter to get my boarding pass.  The sign said that I could have only one carry on so I put my tools and two bags on the scale and the ticket agent tells me that I only get 15kg (33 pounds) worth of baggage.  I am way over that amount, hell, I know people with mental baggage that weighs more than 15kg.  I try to explain to him that this was not relayed to me and I need everything I have.  Thankfully he felt sympathy for me and said since it was a connected flight it was ok but they probably will not let me get out of Cajamarca with that weight.  I guess I will deal with my return when I cross that bridge.  I thank him, he throws my luggage on the belt back into baggage abyss, hands me my boarding pass and tells me to head up the stairs and pay the airport tax.

I pay the tax of $6.02 US (good round number) then head for security.  Now this is good ol’ day’s security at its finest.  Throw your bag on the x-ray machine and get everything metal out of your pockets and walk through, shoes and all.   I was feeling good and the morning has been going smooth, all I needed was some water.  I grab a bottle off a shelf in some store and head for the counter.  I hand it to the lady at the counter and she started speaking Spanish and pointing at the label.  I tell her yes I know it is aqua and I want to purchase it.  She countinues to point at the label talking to me what sounds like gibberish as I stare at her with what I am sure was a stupid face.  She finally figures out I have no idea what she is saying and that my money was good there and sold it to me.  The gibberish all came crashing in as clear as English when I took my first sip.  Apparently what I bought was the equivalent of tonic water.  All though great with vodka, not so great by itself.  I look at the label and it said Con Gas on it.  I then think to myself “That crazy lady at the store kept saying that.  Ohhhh….she is not crazy she was trying to warn me!  Wow that was nice of her.”  I do not return to see if they had non Con Gas cause my pride would not allow it and I knew that if I gave it a chance I would learn to love straight tonic water.

I sat down at my gate and waited until about the time that we were to board when another Spanish speaking voice came over the loud speaker.  At some point I made out Cajamarca so I knew it was about my flight.  When he finished everyone around me kind of sighed and a couple of them layed down.  I figured this could not be good and I headed to the counter to find out the deal.  I was told there was bad weather in Cajamarca and the flight was delayed until 6am.  I thought 15 minutes was not bad and sat back down. At seven AM I heard something about Cajamarca again and people got up and headed towards the gate.  In typical tourist fashion I followed and we all piled into a shuttle bus that literally took us to the plane parked on the other side of the plane that the shuttle bus was parked next to.  When I debarred the shuttle I figured out why weight was an issue for this plane, I would be surprised if it weighed more than 15kg.  We all crammed into this thing, it took off, I slept, we landed, and I got my bags and met with my next person, Victor.  He grabbed a bag for me and we piled into a taxi. 

I have now been in Cajamarca for a total of maybe 30 minutes and I have already learned that there are no rules of the road here.  I think the only rule is that you not kill anyone but even that is on a circumstantial basis.  Victor says we are going to the hotel to check in and drop off my things as we go three wide on what would be a one way alley in America. 

We arrive at the Las Americano Hotel, it looked decent enough from outside and the lobby, and I am showed to my room.  The room in itself was ok I guess but the TV was 13 inches and hung on the wall almost to the ceiling.  I figured no biggie at least it has something, the hotel location was good and the wireless internet worked.  I turned on the TV and every channel was static looking even though it was on cable. Still, whatever, I can hear it and at least I can kind of make out the English speaking HBO. 

Victor knocks on my door to pick me up to take me the medical exam I need to take for clearance onto the Yanacocha Mine I would be working at.  We arrive at what seems like a small office building turned into a clinic but all in all it was fine.

My first stop was the pee in this cup and spit in this cup stop.  I did as told and took it to the room where they were prepared to take blood from me, stop number 2.  Issues of sanitation came to my mind but everyone in this town is still alive so it can’t be that bad.

 My third stop was the x-ray machine.  I am not sure what they need to know by x-ray but ok.  This poor x-ray machine looked like something they bought off of E-Bay.  It should have been retired 30 years ago.  This guy who looked half Jewish and half Spanish puts me in some strange bird like position and X-rays my torso.

 Stop number four was a weight, height and blood pressure measurement and then on to the next room behind the curtain where I was told to remove my shirt and shoes and anything I had with me that is metal.  I do as I am told and then lay down on the table that must have come with the x-ray machine as a package deal.  I barely fit on this thing and I keep hearing things from the help about “football player” and Victor saying I can not eat ice cream and pizza anymore. Real nice guy this Victor. An older lady walks in with a hand full of cables and says something about checking my heart.  A couple of her helpers start putting some kind of grease on me and then clamp these things on my wrist and ankles that look like something you would use to jumper your car with. The older lady also has a bunch of these little metal suction cup things she starts putting on my chest. Where the hell do they get this stuff?  Did I stumble into a retirement home for medical equipment?  I hear electru something mention and now I begin to panic.  I know now why they took the blood pressure first.  Well, the electru something suction cup thingies kept falling off so the older lady pulled out a roll of masking tape and proceeds to tape them to my chest.  Something every man with a hairy chest just loves.  It turns out they were just messing with me and all they were doing was recording my heartbeat and there would be no actual defibulator like stuff going on today.

Stop number five, I meet with the doctor and he does the Q and A, checks my vision and breathing and kicks me out the door.   A bit of a traumatizing experience but I come out mostly unscathed.

At this point I am starving because I was not allowed to eat before my exam.  We are supposed to meet the next guy who will be here with me the whole time, Daniel, in about a couple hours for lunch so Victor takes me to the store to get water and tells me to try a Frio Rico, which is basically a drumstick in America.  That’s right; Mr. Fat Joke at the medical clinic just bought me freaking Ice Cream.  I take it as a peace offering and we find a cab to head up to some spot where you can see the whole town.

We get there and now I have to climb up this hill, which at 8500 feet is no picnic on the lungs, but it was all worth it once I got to the top.  The view is amazing and you can see all the surrounding mountains. At this point I realize I do not have my camera and think how Brittney would be pissed at me.  This will be someplace I will have to return to.  We hang up there for a bit and then walk back down the other side and to our hotel. 

We meet Daniel for lunch for my first try at Peruvian food.  I got some kind of thing with Pork and some peppers and rice.  It was pretty good.  Daniel asks me how I like my room, I tell him my earlier thoughts, and then proceeds to tell me about the problems he has with his.  We decide we will look into other options tomorrow.  We finished lunch and I had to head to the training facility for the mine.  I do not speak a lick of Spanish so I got the English speaking version which put me by myself in a room with a laptop and two hours of power point presentations.  At the time I thought that sucked but Daniel was in the same class all day but the Spanish version.  It took him 8 hours to do what I did in two.  I guess being a lazy American can have its advantages sometimes.

Victor picks me up and we head back to the clinic to get my results.  They say I am going to live and then we head off to some office to get a piece of paper signed.  That gets done and we head back to the hotel and decided to all meet up for dinner at 8pm, about an hour and a half away.

We all meet in the lobby about 8pm and get this, funny man Victor says he knows a good pizza place that they use a wood fire stove.  At this point I am not sure how to take it but I like pizza so I soon forget the emotional pain from earlier today.  We got some kind of pizza with meat, cheese, onions and mushrooms on it and washed it down with a Pilsen Callao beer.  It was pretty good and I would recommend anyone who finds themselves in Cajamarca craving pizza it would be a good place to go.

At this point we walk back and we stop by a bakery and get some kind of chocolate dough puffs that were decent but not the greatest thing I have ever had.  We arrive at the hotel all agree to meet at 7:30 in the morning and say our goodnights.  I head up to my room; turn on my static filled English speaking HBO and lay down to sleep.  This is when I find out my bed is a block of wood with two blocks of wood for pillows.  Good thing I am tired.

Let me pause to offer you the virtual description of what it is like to take a typical Peruvian bus ride.  This special experience isn’t for everyone.  You need the patience of a saint, the fortitude of a soldier, a stomach of iron and the spirit of a daredevil.  

Let’s start with the purchase of your ticket.  Despite an internet café every 50 feet and wireless internet blanketing virtually every square millimeter of Peruvian cyberspace, you can’t buy a bus ticket online for most companies, and heaven forbid you think that you can simply call and do it over the phone!  No no, you have to make the trip to the station and purchase your ticket there.  Next comes the admonition to show up at least a half hour before the time the bus is scheduled to leave (notice how I wrote that and not “when the bus leaves”, we’ll get to that in a moment).  This is delivered with the utmost sincerity on the part of the ticket clerk.  How they can keep a straight face is beyond me.  It would be like an ice cream vendor telling you on a blazing hot day that the ice cream won’t melt.  

Well, you’ve gotten this far.  So you show up at the station and inevitably all is chaos.  People are milling about, no one has any information about anything.  The baggage clerks are taking baggage and you get in line, but when you show your ticket they tell you that they aren’t collecting baggage yet for your bus.  This line is for the bus before yours.  “But,” you protest “that bus should have left 45 minutes ago?!”  With a knowing wink, the baggage clerk motions you to get out of the way and you realize that the game has started again.  So periodically you murmer to other passengers, “when is the bus going to leave?”  They don’t know any more than you.  Nor do the ticket clerks have any information.  They just parrot the same line, “when it comes.”  In Italian train stations, or for that matter, in train stations all over Europe, there is another language spoken in addition to the primary language of the country and English, and that language is called Announcement Language.  No one quite speaks it or understands it.  It comes out garbled and surprisingly similar no matter where you are.  You are able to catch a few details and for the most part it’s enough for you to get the gist of what’s going on and catch your train, or get to the proper platform, or realize that it’s going to be late, or whatever.  It’s a curious language but it works.  That language is not spoken in Peru, for they have no speakers and no announcements.  You’re left to figure it out for yourself.  So you keep asking and finally a line begins to form and someone official appears to take tickets and you board the bus.

Now the adventure really begins.  You find your place, get settled, the bus starts on its way a half hour or 45 minutes late and everyone is happy.  Not a few minutes into the ride, that happy smile quickly disappears off your face when the horror of the movie starts.  You know it when the speakers crank up and the screens flicker on and the writing is all in Chinese.  It’s another bad Asian gangster movie from the 1980s.  The videos shown on Peruvian buses fall into three categories: the aforementioned Chinese B or C movies from another bygone and best-forgotten era, bottom of the barrel American comedies like White Chicks by the Wayans Brothers, and decent and recent Hollywood productions (these make up about 1% of the movies shown).  No matter that there are discriminating passengers on the bus, or children, or a nun.  Gobs of sex and violence and stupidity are the order of the day.  Usually the gangster flicks are turned on at night, just when you think you are going to be able to sink into sleep, and the volume is turned up as high as it can go on the blown-out speakers, one of which is without fail right next to your seat.  The best defense against the bus movie is a good mp3 player and earphones.  

Other notable features of the bus ride are the vendors that approach when you are waiting to leave, when you are in transit in a town or at a highway toll booth, or picking up other passengers.  This can be both good and bad.  You never go hungry on a Peruvian bus.  Things on offer include sugar cane, guava pods, delectable desserts, sandwiches, all kinds of fresh fruit, and even jello in a cup.  The bad part is when the Peruvian penchant for throwing trash away in anything but a trash can involves you stepping on a puddle of jello in the aisle.  

If you’ve endured all of that, then you can make it to the end of the line, not worrying about the driver’s need for speed to make up for the late departure, by passing on hills and playing chicken rounding corners thousands of feet up from the valley floor, nor will you be worried by long waits just sitting there not knowing why you are stopped or when you will start again.  I’m sure I’m forgetting some important details, but it’s possible that my memory hesitates to remember the gorier details.  

So there you have it, a fun day on a Peruvian bus.  I hope you can all have the experience some day!

The men’s hospital was interesting in how the beds were set up.  Each sick person had a cell in the wall instead of a bed in a common room.  At the end of the hall there was an altar and more cells in the walls on each side of the altar.  A painting exhibition of 2 Peruvian painters was being held when I visited.  The women’s hospital had the same cells but theirs had wooden beds and a fur mat to lie on.  Furthermore, there were frescos outside of each cell with a number.  It was here that pregnant women gave birth and there were 2 ropes above the head of the woman that she could hold on to when she was in pain.  Now the women’s hospital is home to the small archeology museum and ethnography museum.

After our tour of Belen, my guide took me to the Cuarto de Rescate, the room where Atahualpa was held before his execution.  Then, in the afternoon I visited the Banos del Inca, just a few miles from Cajamarca.  Here in the hot springs Atahualpa was camped with his troops and enjoying the thermal curative waters.  Today there is a complex of private baths, swimming pool, and public baths.  I didn’t have time to go in because it was getting towards late afternoon and I wanted to hike to Otuzco to see the holes cut in the rock called “ventanillas” where the ancient Caxamarcans buried their dead.  I had a great hike following a small river up to Otuzco and a local boy there gave me his spiel on what they meant before demanding a tip.  He wasn’t happy with my tip but I told him that his 30 second disinterested explanation wasn’t worth more.  It was getting dark so I got a combi back to Cajamarca.

In the evening I went to a place called Usha Usha that was recommended in the Lonely Planet guide.  It is owned by a locally famous musician called Jaime and he has impromptu evenings of song in his hole-in-the-wall bar.  Only wine and hard stuff is available there and I met a group of some miners working for the American Gulf corporation who invited me to share their bottle of Pisco liquor.  One of the miners had worked in the U.S. and he told me he had traveled through Cleveland too.  He insisted on speaking English even though the others didn’t follow and so I gamely went along.  We had some good laughs.  Jaime was joined by a German violinist and singer to practice for an upcoming weekend concert and the miner whispered to the German girl that I played violin.  She insisted that I play something so I obliged with a few tunes before Jaime reminded them that they needed to get the practice session underway.  What followed was a few hours of wonderful music, at first with the girls, and then when they left, just Jaime and his son on “cajon” the drum box that is sat upon while the player hits it with his hands.  The small bar was all involved in the music and song and it was an unexpected and lovely evening.  

Ouch, my head!  Too many pisco and sprite cocktails the night before!  And when I got back to my room I realized I didn’t have any water.  There is always a price to be paid for evenings like that, huh?  Unfortunately I didn’t have the luxury of lazing about and sleeping it off.  I had booked a 9:30 am tour to Cumbe Mayo site and I had to get up.  We were late getting started by a half hour because of three girls from Trujillo who weren’t ready.  I ugess half an hour wait is standard Peruvian.  It happens all the time!  But soon enough we were on our way and the day was turning out to be quite nice with lots of sunshine and warm, unlike the cold of the night before.  We stopped first at the lookout point called Bella Vista, to see the panoramic of Cajamarca nestled in the valley.  The sun was in our eyes and we couldn’t take pictures so I suggested to the guide Louis, to stop on our way back.  From here you could see south to the Banos del Inca and the road leading to Chiclayo, and all of the city of Cajamarca.

There was a bumpy hour long dirt ride up to the top of the continental divide and the ancient site of Cumbe Mayo.  The source of a river here leads all the way to the Atlantic, and on the other side, the shorter journey to the Pacific.  It was a high and windswept spot that had incredible formations of igneous and sedimentary rocks (older than other parts of the Andes, and the reason that Cajamarca is less susceptible to earthquakes than other areas) that are called “frailones” or “big friars” because of their resemblance to standing monks.  In the rocks here are carvings from 1,000 BC that indicate that it was a ceremonial spot where animal sacrifices were performed.  We climbed 15 meters through a slit in the rock that was barely wide enough to slip through, and dark at that, to emerge into the sunlight on the other side and a view of many of the rocks with a path that led down to the water channels that were carved by rock out of the rock to carry water down to lower altitudes.  What is amazing is the precision of the cutting considering that they only had stones to do it.  In some parts there were petroglyphs that archeologists are still puzzling over the meaning of.  We passed by some campesinos cooking lunch for the men who were out in the fields with their horses threshing wheat.  Other women were herding sheep and cows and yet more were washing the laundry in the source waters of the river.  It was much chillier up in the mountains and the girls from Trujillo hadn’t brought anything to put over their tshirts and they were shivering.  My compassion for them was tempered in that they had made us wait half an hour in the van while they were getting ready, but in the end I offered the use of my shirt because they all had goosebumps on their arms and the wind could blow quite cold.  A couple others in our group had extra sweaters or shawls that they gave to them.  

Back in town I went to the thermal baths again, this time to avail myself of their hopefully curative properties, since the effects of the pisco from the night before were still with me.  I wasn’t disappointed.  It was the first proper bath I had had in a long time and I got out incredibly refreshed and feeling squeaky clean.  I bought a fresh pineapple juice and came back to Cajamarca to get something to eat.  A nice antecucho and potatoes from a streetside vendor was spicy but delicious and I was starting to feel normal again!  

I ran into the girls that had been on the tour with me that morning and asked if they wanted to go out later on and they readily agreed.  Being Tuesday though, not much was open and we ended up at a seedy club called Alfredo’s.  There wasn’t one good thing to recommend the place and that’s being generous.  First shock, other than one of the girls slipping on something on the floor and falling, was that beers were 10 soles, and a pitcher 20.  Since the pitcher contained exactly 2 beers I wanted to know what the use of having a pitcher was?  Also, I wanted to know why beers were more expensive than Miraflores, in Lima.  The owner explained that there was no entrance fee but I countered that of course there shouldn’t be an entrance fee in a seedy joint on a Tuesday night in a mountain town!  Next up was the music.  This DJ made the guy in Mancora look like a pro.  The songs skipped constantly, he played the same song three times in the space of a couple hours, and he would start a song and then 15 seconds into it, stop it and start another.  The crowning indignity was the warm pitcher of pisco sour that we got and when I asked for ice, he pulled out a 2 liter plastic bottle that had been filled with water and frozen and started hacking away at it to make ice pieces.  I can’t even mention the bathrooms without a shudder of horror.  They were atrocious even for Peruvian standards.  There was no running water in either sinks or toilets and they looked and smelled as if they hadn’t been cleaned in weeks.  I wouldn’t have let my dog use those restrooms!

I enjoyed the tour of Cumbe Mayo and went to see if there was space on the bus for the day tour of the Porcon farm north of the city.  There were just a couple spaces left and I was in time to nab one of them before the bus left with a full group.  The Porcon farm is a cooperative of the 7th Day Adventists who took over many thousands of square hectares in the mountains and undertook a reforestation project in addition to a large self-sufficient farm.  They started with a hectare of 30 different varieties of trees and determined that two species of pines were best suited to the area and then began to plant what would turn out to be millions of pines.  The reason for the “Project Green Sierra”, helped and funded by the university in Cajamarca, was to provide ground cover for the high sierra, to use the wood as fuel and for construction and furniture, and to give more sanctuary to the flora and fauna.  The sight of so many mountaintops covered in pines is in contrast to much of the high Peruvian sierra which is denuded of trees.  

On the way to the farm, our excellent guide spoke for more than an hour about the history of Cajamarca and the surrounding area, and about the folk traditions such as the food and sugar dolls baked for the tombs of deceased family members and placed there on the day of the dead, November 2nd.  Not a day for mourning, All Souls Day here in the Cajamarca region is celebrated with a feast and fiesta.  Other interesting traditions our guide talked about were the tradition of the widow to put on black when her husband died and to wear it for a year.  On the anniversary of his death, there was a mass in the morning and then in the evening the whole village gathered for a party in which everyone contributed to buy food and new celebratory clothes for the widow.  After traditional ceremonies the black clothing was removed and the party began.  If the widow were young enough, suitors would come to the feast and declare their intentions, along with what they could provide materially for the widow.   Another tradition he described was Holy Week and Palm Sunday, which in Peru is celebrated with many interesting ceremonies.  Here, in some villages, they carry heavy crosses on Palm Sunday, accompanied by the people bearing palms and olive branches.  The crosses are carried quite far until they are put down at the church.  There are many other Holy Week traditions but I can’t remember everything that the guide talked about.  

We knew we were nearing the farm when we saw signs with biblical verses by the side of the road.  They were everywhere in Porcon farm itself, and chosen for their relevance to the activity where they were placed, so for instance, by the school, there was one (all in Spanish of course) reading “Suffer the little children to come unto me…”, and by the room where the women weave the verse about a woman’s worth being more than gold (or something like that, I can’t remember exactly), and so forth.  In the zoo there were many biblical verses placed by the cages indicating the specific animal that was there.  In the zoo we saw a number of animals, many of which I didn’t know the English name for, or even if I had ever heard of them before.  The monkeys were funny, the way they grabbed for food and the way they ate.  We saw a variety of birds including condors (“balcons” too, Stella!), and different wild cats of the sierra and jungle, most of which I had never seen before, even in American zoos.  After the tour I wanted to buy some of the excellent cheese, but I was frustrated in my attempt because they didn’t sell them in pieces, just large wheels.  On our way back, all the schools were letting out and there were tons of kids in their uniforms on the roads, walking back home, laughing, playing.  I wanted to stop and talk to them but we had agenda and had to get back.  

I bought a ticket for the bus to Celendin, part one of the route east to Chachapoyas for the next day.  Some warned of taking that route due to the bumpy roads and difficultry as well as the many hours (18?) needed to get there.  Apparently, the bus from Celendin, which only runs on Thursday and Sunday, stops at a river because the bridge is too flimsy and passengers cross the bridge to wait for a bus on the other side.  The French couple who were with us in Cumbe Mayo told me that they waited 4 hours on the other side for the bus!  But they said that even though it was long, the breathtaking scenery warranted the trip.  So I got a ticket for the first leg, leaving at 5:30 in the morning.  Then I went to attend a dance performance of folkloric dances taking place at the Belen courtyard.  It was in honor of the international day of folkloric dance and was supposed to start at 7:30.  In grand Peruvian tradition it didn’t start until 8:30 and I hadn’t had dinner.  Moreover, it was getting colder and I didn’t have my sweater with me.  I stayed to watch some of it, but I had to get back to eat some dinner, pack my things and get to bed.  It turned out that the pork sandwiches I got from a street vendor were probably bad because the next day I began to feel the now familiar stomach cramps.  However luckily they weren’t bad.  So I had some warm beer (no place had cold beer unless I drank it there.  They keep the bottles to return for deposit) and sandwiches in my room as I packed.  I didn’t sleep well, probably because I was thinking too much about my 4:30 am alarm…

Cajamarca is the first real city of any size that I have encountered since Cuenca on my trip south from Ecuador. This is good because it has given me a chance to upload some pictures since the internet is fast enough to accomodate this, and to buy a few necessary things before I leave the for the towns in the mountains on the road south towards the Cordillera Blanca. It is nice to have some variety in food choices and many shops to choose from, and for the most part Cajamarca seems like a reasonably nice city. In many ways it reminds me of a more rundown and less upscale version of Cuenca. Nearby Cajamarca are numerous archaelogical sites, but the one that I chose to visit was Cumbe Mayo. The site consists of a 6km long aqueduct carved  into the mountains about Cajamarca by the Incas to bring water down to the city. Cajamarca is at about 8,000 feet and the mountains around the city are at a little over 11,000 feet so the aqueduct carries water all the way down to the city. It is carved out of the stone with amazing precision, especially considering the tools available at the time. Around part of the channel located high in the mountains are these strange rock spires forming various shapes, some resembling animals and people, in a lush green landscape that is rather damp and cold when the wind is blowing and the sun isn´t shining. With ruins and the rock shapes together it makes for quite the amazing landscape. Other than that, Cajamarca is merely a stopover on the way south towards the taller mountains to come. From here, I take a bus south to Cajabamba and a combi from there to Huamachuco, a total over 5-6 hours. After that, the travel information seems to be rather thin as the road, or what passes for a road here, splits into two different paths, according to the maps both seem to arrive somewhere near the northern end of the Cordillera Blanca, although it is supposed to be a very rough journey, especially this time of year during the rainy season. Hopefully some of the people in Huamachuco will have some advice and information and I can continue to make my way south.

The town of Leymebamba was a crumbling mess of a place perched up on hillside about two hours south of Tingo. Half of the streets in town had been ripped up for repaving and so all traffic flowed through the one street that passed through the central plaza. But at least the town had internet and several restaurants and hotels. From Leymebamba there is transport twice a week to Celendin, about 7-8 hours away. I had asked why there wasn´t more frequent transport and the only answer I could get was that it was in a different province and there wasn´t much demand. The other thing was that the van left at 6am and there was a bus passing through from Chachapoyas between 8-10am, but no guarantee of a seat. Because of that I decided to take the van and had to drag myself out of bed before dawn to wait for the van. The man from the hotel had reserved a spot for me so that was all set, I just had to wait until about 6:15 when the van finally showed up with a sheep roped to the top. As all the bags and cargo were loaded on, the sheep was moved so that it nestled in snuggly with the spare tire and a tarp was thrown over the other bags on the roof. Inside, the van was a mobile farm with a sack of live chickens, a sack of guinea pigs, and a woman´s dog. Before we started there was a foul smell in the van and this man handed out this sack of raw meat to go up on the roof. Just stinking raw meat in a bag, unrefrigerated and unsealed. And finally we were ready to go as the van pulled out of town around 6:30am.

From Leymabamba the road climbed steadily up the mountains from 7,000 feet to the cold and foggy mountain pass at about 11,500 feet. After leaving town there weren´t really any towns, only a few houses scattered here and there, none with electricity either. Most of the hillsides were totally covered in vegetation and it is easy to see how some of these ruins are still being discovered. After the mountain pass the road dropped continuously for about 3 hours. We emerged from the cold, damp fog of the high mountains to a level in between the clouds above and more clouds and fog below us. The views were just amazing and I was lucky enough to get a few decent pictures as the van rumbled along the poor and potholed road. Still moving downhill we stopped for breakfast at about 9:30 at a restaurant on the side of the road, and by restaurant I mean a mud brick hut with three women cooking on a mud brick stove over a wood fire. Everything was fresh and very tasty, bringing a whole new meaning to organic. I had the soup, which had various animal parts in it, some stomach, intestines, heart, and I was lucky enough to get a big hunk of brain as well, I also had a plate of stir fried beef with vegetables, rice, and an egg, all for two dollars. After eating we pressed on downhill passing into a more dry and desert scenery with some stunning mountains and a glimpse of the road on the other side of the river valley. Occasionally the driver would stop at some homes to drop some things off to people and pick mail and money for things that he would deliver on his way back in the other direction the next day. There were just all these people living out in the middle of nowhere with no electricity in mud brick houses, relying on the driver as their only link to the outside world, it was quite amazing really. But after four and a half hours we finally reached a town at the river, Balsas, which had electricity, and at 2,500 feet was the bottom of our 9,000 foot descent.

We dropped of a few people and picked up a few people and then rambled across the river and headed up the other side of the mountains on a long and winding road, leaving the desert behind as we climbed. Mid way up the mountains we stopped at a house and they promptly brought out three five gallon buckets and a funnel. That´s right, no gas stations out here. After re-fueling and much climbing later we reached the next mountain pass at 10,000 feet. After 6 hours the end was not far off, another 2,500 feet down was the town of Celendin. From Celendin I caught another van to Cajamarca, about 4 hours away on a very rough and deeply potholed road. A long day of traveling had finally come to an end. But I must say that after all the 199 hours I have spent of buses, boats, and trains, the scenery on the trip from Leymabamba to Celendin was by far the best.

From Vilcabamba south towards Peru most maps show a road going only as far as Zumba, a 5-6 hour bus ride away. In fact, there is a road, or more accurately a dirt track that runs south from Zumba to La Balsa, which sits at the Ecuador-Peru border. So I was in fact going where the roads do not go, at least the paved ones.

The bus ride from Vilcabamba to Zumba was a slow one, the road was unpaved but in rather good condition, despite the few rivers and waterfalls that flowed across the road at a few points. The scenery was really beautiful with steep green cliffs and mountains and lots of interesting cloud forest type vegetation. We stopped a few times at towns which never made it onto any map, and were so isolated that I was surprised that some had electricity. The road was so steep and winding that it took almost 6 hours to travel the 65 miles to Zumba. As we approached Zumba there was a military checkpoint and since I was the only tourist on the bus, everyone had to wait for me to sign in at the checkpoint. Them it was a few more minutes to Zumba, located amidst the steep hills of the region. In Zumba the sun was powerfully hot and most of the people were walking around with umbrellas to shield themselves from its radiating heat. I arrived around 2:30pm and had to wait until 5:30pm for the rancherra, an open sided small bus, that would make the 90 minute ride south to La Balsa. The bus terminal in Zumba consists of two rows of wooden shacks and a dirt lot overlooking the surrounding mountains. After eating lunch there wasn´t exactly anything to do in town so I sat down and waited.

When 5:30 came the rancherra was loaded up with sacks of rice, gas cylinders, and other luggage and we headed south on the rough dirt road, crossing several rivers and there were some great views of the wilderness. After another military checkpoint where they pretended to search the rancherra the road branched off and we headed to an isolated town near the top of the mountain to drop some people off before proceeding to La Balsa. By the time we arrived in La Balsa it was a little after 7:30pm and most of the people had already gotten off the bus so there were just a few of us left, of those few only me and one Ecuadorean guy were actually headed to Peru, I have no idea where the others went, they just sort of disappeared into the night. There wasn´t really anything in La Balsa, it isn´t even really a town. There were two restaurants, the immigration office, a small store and money exchange, and some abandoned looking shacks. Everything was closed save for the two restaurants and there was a man in his underwear washing himself with a hose in the street. The road to Peru was blocked with a long piece of bamboo that closed the bridge across the river.

We had to wait a few minutes for the immigration officer to appear and then he quickly stamped my passport without asking any questions and I was on my way to Peru. I went around the bamboo blockade and was in no-man´s land on the dimly lit bridge over the river, the only piece of pavement within a hundred miles in either direction. On the Peruvian side I had to wait for the immigration officer to finish eating dinner before I could get my passport stamped. By then it was a bit after 8pm and there were a few people with cars waiting around to drive people from the border to the nearest towns. The road leading to the border is so rough that there are no buses or other public transport, only shared cars, referred to as combis. Being the only person that crossed the border and being the last person that would cross the border that night I was a bit stuck as there is no place to spend the night on the border and the nearest town is about 15 minutes away. The drivers knew that I didn´t have many options and I had zero bargaining power. My choices were to either pay $20 for a ride to San Ignacio, 2 hours away and the nearest populated area, pay $7 for a ride to Namballe a dump of a town 15 minutes away, or sleep outside at the border until 10am when more people would cross the border and then pay $5 to go to San Ignacio. I opted to pay more money and go straight to San Ignacio.

This night also happened to coincide with the new moon and despite the few underpowered street lights it was incredibly dark outside. But once we left the relative civilization of the border area it was pitch black outside and more or less totally silent except for the car motor. When we reached Namballe I knew that I made the right decision as it was literally falling apart and didn´t have anything to offer, save for proximity to the border. Another 90 minutes later and we reached San Ignacio, with much more signs of life and promises of infrastructure and links to the real world. I had the driver drop me at some hotel that he recommended, of course I couldn´t pay for the room because I hadn´t been able to exchange any money since everything was closed so the man said that I could pay him in the morning. But at least I had arrived somewhere that was on the maps.

The next morning I set out to find an ATM to try to get some Peruvian Soles and avoid having to change money. It didn´t take me long to find an ATM, however, it wouldn´t take my card so I had to wait in line at the bank around the corner, the only bank in town. After waiting in line for 15 minutes the man at the bank told me that the bank doesn´t exhange money. What bank near a border doesn´t exchange money? He told me there was someplace to exchange money a few blocks down and to the left. After walking for 15 minutes I couldn´t find it. Then this women who had seen me in the bank asked what I was looking for and offered to take me to the exchange place. It was a good thing that I took her up on the offer because the money exchange was this man who worked at a furniture/electronics store. Of the $30 I wanted to exchange he only accepted $20 because the other bills were too dirty. So I had $20 to make it to the next city where I could hopefully use my ATM card. I found the place where the combis left for Jaen, 3 hours away, paid my 10 soles ($3.33), and waited for it to leave. A few minutes before we were going to leave another car arrived from Jaen with two Mormon missionaries from the USA. They told me that the car in front of them on the way from Jaen to San Ignacio had been carjacked, everyone had been robbed and then the thieves stole the car. This wasn´t really too promising as I was headed the same way but I thought that if it just happened what were the odds of it happening again on the same route, probably really low, right?

Lukily we made it safely to Jaen, despite riding crammed in with 17 adults and 6 kids in the minivan over the roughshod road. The road which contrary to the guidebook was not being paved but had been paved, many many years ago, and had since deteriorated into a pathwork of pavement and potholed gravel and rock. Arriving in Jaen, it was a busy, hot, and dusty place, more similar to Asia than to the parts of South America I had previously been, there were rice fields and hundreds of moto-taxis zooming about. I managed to find the only bank in town with an ATM and it accepted my card so I was resupplied with money and after having lunch I was able to arrange transportation in combis, as the buses run very infrequently, towards Pedro Ruiz, a small crossroads town on the route to Chachapoyas or Tarapoto. Near Pedro Ruiz is Gocta, supposedly the world´s third highest waterfall, so that is next and then south to Kuelap...

Pictures to come when I get to an internet connection that is fast enough, which in these parts may take a while.

Hello all,

Today's blog starts at about 11:30pm yesterday (Saturday).  I was able to get a short nap in, packed up all of my stuff, checked out of the hotel, and headed down to the Sol Peruano bus station.  Upon reaching the station there were two busses waiting.  I tried to figure out which one was mine, and after a short period of time I realized that my bus was not here.

I had purchased my ticket the yesterday at about 8am, and at that time I was very wary of the '12am' on the ticket.  I even asked the agent 'en dieciséis horas?' (in 16 hours?) to make sure that it was midnight we were talking about.  I checked into a hotel in order to have some refuge for the wait, and to prepare for another overnight trip.  I checked in my travel spanish book for the translation of midnight (media-noche), and asked the bellman 'ésta es medianoche?' (this is midnight?), and he said yes.  Even so, I had considered the possibility of taking a trip to the bus station at around noon to be sure.  That possibility disappeared when my head hit the pillow.

I got back to the hotel, and embarrassingly tried to convey what had happened.  I got back into my room, and got online to do some checking.  12am is by a very great margin considered to be midnight by most sources.  Then again most of those sources are in english, as that is what I was looking up.  I went out to find some food, and found a chifa (chinese restaurant) near the hotel.  I ordered my food, and while I waited I saw a sign stating that their weekday closing time was 12am.  I internally curse both myself, and the seemingly crazy (or at least different) system employed here in Peru.  It just makes sense to me that if 12:01am is one minute past midnight then 12:00am must be midnight.  Alot of airline and other schedules in the states have begun listing times as 11:59pm, or 12:01pm just to avoid such confusion.  I was able to sleep with no problem.  I would go to the bus company in the morning and explain that I am a dumb-ass.  What's the spanish word for that?

I woke up, grabbed the complimentary breakfast, and headed for the bus station.  The same guy that sold me the ticket was there, and I explained, as well as I could, what had happened.  He reluctantly re-issued my ticket for today.  Thankfully the route ran both Saturday and Sunday, contrary to what the old german language tour book had said.  My bus left at 1pm today, and the agent wrote the time in miltary time, per my request (1300).

A long distance bus requires a bit of planning.  There are bathroom facilities on board, but you really do not want to use them.  The worst case scenario would be, having to use them for some serious business, or repeatedly.  I have had very good luck on this trip health-wise.  I have had previous bouts of 'traveller's distress' on other trips, but I believe I have built up my immune system but eating whatever I want.  My system has seen so many questionable street food items enter the area, that I am sure there is a perimeter set up by now.  Even so, make sure to carry toilet paper with you at all times!  Very rarely is any provided in this region.

The bus leaves at about 1:15pm.  I am next to an older (50's) Peruvian woman in the front row of the lower deck of the bus.  As soon as we start moving, any hope that this bus is air conditioned go by the wayside.  The only window provided is a small 18" x 12" one propped open a bout 18" over my head.  The mechanism is old, and when we get up to speed it rattles and bangs rather loudly.  It's design is also very inefficient in conveying outside air into the bus.  Most of the comfy positions I achieve on the bus involve me using my left hand to do a combination air-diversion/window-quieting maneuver.

The temperature on the bus, is actually not so bad.  I have had much worse anyway.  And the front seat gives much more room for my knees, and no seat reclining in front of you really increases the amount of moving-around room.  Unfortunately, there is none of that stretch-your-legs-out-underneath-the-seat-in-front-of-you space.  I intermittantly am able to stretch them out on the wall, thinking all the while how ridiculous this must look to everybody else.  In any case, being 6'1" on one of these busses is no help.

Our first stop is in Jaen at about 8:30pm.  I am pleased that the bus does not seem to be stopping alot.  It is a bit cooler here, as we have been going up for most of the trip so far.  I hit the bus station facilities for about 15 cents, and look for some food.  I settle on street food.  There is a popular fried chicken and french fry place a block from the station, and I grab a coke as well.  Under a buck for dinner sounds good to me, and the fries are homemade and delicious.  Still hungry I grab some ice cream across the street before getting back on the bus.

The next stop is in Moyobamba at about 3am.  It's a shorter stop, and I don't see any restrooms.  So I do what most other males are doing and use an adjacent parking lot.  When in Rome...  Saved myself 15 cents anyway.  I am actually able to sleep for a while on the rest of the trip.  Probably because the temperature has come down enough to make comfort seem possible.  At one point I did see a hand creep up from the seat behind me in, what I'm guessing is, an attempt to close the window (or quiet it).  I make a point to keep my hand up there for the rest of the trip.  Defense!  Defense!

We arrived in Tarapoto at about 7:30am.  Wow, that's actually 18 hours and 15 minutes.  I hadn't calculated that out yet.  There was a swarm of people centering on the luggage area of the bus.  There were passengers looking for checked baggage, and people waiting to pick up shipped freight.  Most annoyingly, there were moto-taxi drivers clogging up the works.  As soon as we pulled in they centered on me, the only gringo onboard.  They were fighting for position outside the window trying to get my attention.  I rolled over and waited until everybody was off the bus, but they were still there when I got off.

I was one of the last passengers to ask for my backpack, so I could see exactly where it was.  I pointed it out to the attendant, and showed my ticket.  He looked for the ticket stapled to the bag and was unable to find it.  I showed him where it was, but it was not there.  Only the staple remained, as it must have fallen of in transit.  I remembered my combination lock was on my bag, so I showed the attendant that I knew the combination.  Satisfied he handed it over.  I passed through the swarm of drivers on my way to situating my bag for the walk into town.  There was one driver waiting patiently in his moto.  I looked at him, and he told me it was 30 blocks into town.  He offered one sol (33 cents) for the ride, and I agreed.  I always like to not reward the overly-aggresive.  Not like it will change anything.

Today I get to attempt to change my flight ticket.  At least this one is my fault.  What is spanish for dumb-ass again?

Later, Phil

I am in Puno right now, on the shores of Lake Titicaca.  It has been a hectic past few hours.  I got a little sick from some food I purchased at a train stop (at 4300m!) and have a bit of a cough from inhaling the train's exhaust - I spent half the train ride with my head and arms outside the window as there has been so much to see - from simple altiplano life to incredibly crowded rail markets along the way.

After this morning's rush to get onto the train, I thought I would reflect on how being last minute and flexible has its advantages.

I started the morning by visiting a travel agency to book  train ticket.  It was 7:30 a.m.  Unfortunately, she told me there were no trains to Puno until tomorrow.  Instead, I hired a taxi to take me to the bus station, but half way there, I read in my guide book, that there was, in fact a train leaving at 8 a.m. 

I asked the driver to turn around and head to the train station where I was confronted with a mass of people waiting to be served.  Fortunately, one of the Peru Rail staff noticed my situation and got me a last minute ticket.  According to my guide book, the train is often full and needs to be booked in advance.  Still, I got onto the train with 5 minute to spare.  Knowing that I was the last one on, I simply picked an empty table on the left side (to view th scenery), and enjoyed a very comfortable and scenic ride to Puno.

Same situation with my flight.  I boarded last, and got an entire row of seats to myself.

Same with trekking.  I paid $150 for the trek, which is a real deal, considering the entrance fee into Machu Picchu and the rail ticket combined cost $60.  It only makes me wonder what the guides, porters, and cooks are being paid.

The Catch:

Well, the Inti Rami festival was going on in Cuzco yesterday, and there were absolutely no accommodations available when I returned.   I simply had to shack up in a room three of my trekking partners had wisely booked in advance.  Well, the room was really only large enough for three - the beds pretty much took up the entire room and there was a small bit of walking space which I had to pull out my sleeping bag onto.  The walking space, actually, wasn't enough for me to stretch out, so I kind of slept diagonally with my feet under one of the beds.  Oh well.  Better than the streets for sure!

Again on an overnight bus (we love those overnight buses - they take you somewhere and you get to sleep in chairs that recline way back - airlines should study these overnight buses) we landed in Piura. This was just a quick stop on our way to more beaches because we heard that the beaches in Northern Peru were the best. Piura was a nice little city and very historical, older than Lima in fact. On the other hand, it was hotter than the Devil´s underpants. We got to our hostal at about 6am and they put us in a room with windows to the street. The street happened to be the street where the town's newspaper (Sunday edition in this case ) were put together by 20 very loud workers. It was too hot to sleep with the windows closed and too noisy to sleep with them open so we turned on the ceiling fan which sounded like a jet engine preparing for takeoff with a hint of another noise like it might fall between our beds. We slept like babies anyway.

Piura was our first opportunity to see a movie in a cinema. In all cities before Piura either the movies were terrible or we missed the showing. If you know D and Em at all, you know that they love to go to the cinema (especially D) so this was very exciting for us. We saw TransAmerica which was very heavy but very good. Afterwards we went out and ate some pizza, drank some beers, and danced a little. The second night in a row that we went to a drinking establishment. Crazy party animals we are! We were back to our hostel and asleep by midnight. 12 hours later we were off in another bus to the north, amidst 90 or 100 degree heat with a delicious cheese and salami sandwich on hand.