3 Countries in 3 Days

From Salta, Argentina, Gracie and I hopped on a bus at 7:30am which took us through the vast sierra of Northern Argentina. At the border crossing to Chile some 8 hours later we experienced the first unwelcome signs of altitude sickness. After being on an air-conditioned bus, we had to wait in the sun to get our passports stamped, in a dusty bit of nowhere, standing just shy of 5000 meters. What a view! What a headache! Gracie felt faint and was very close to passing out when the border guards whisked her away to the oxygen pump. We were told that the best way to prevent altitude sickness is to drink lots of water, eat coca candies or the leaves, and consume plenty of sweets (another excuse to buy more Ducle de Leche). All welcome remedies.

Our drive continued through the Atacama desert, past villages of the ancient Aymara people stuggling to keep themselves and their culture alive. The Atacama is the dryest desert in the world with areas of unreported rainfall. Gracie looked out the window of our comfortable bus thinking we´d ended up on Mars. The landscape is devoid of any vegetation and provided a remarkablly visible sunset as we continued our voyage.

We eventually made it to the Chilean desert town of Calama, wreaking of wealth from the mining industry (Atacama once belonged to Peru but Chile discovered the resources and claimed it as their own). A few hours were spent at the mall in transit, (I felt like I was back in Toronto) as we avoided stares and waited for our unusually late bus. When the bus finally arrived it was overcrowded and I took this as a sign of things to come. No more luxurious travel with English language films and coffee. Time to lower my standards as I continue heading up north.

In the morning we stepped off the bus in Arica, an hours drive from the Peru border. We needed to rest and enjoyed our time at a Kiwi-owned hostel eating organic cereal and making new friends. Arica was hot and dry and as a result from my lack of sleep and Canadian-programmed climate preference, not very attractive. My favourite bit ended up being the fishermans´wharf. A hyper place of activity, stinking of wrotten fish and salt water. We happily sat and watched the Sea Lions scout about the place for leftovers. If only I were comfortable photographing portraits. You would have loved to see these men hard at work repairing boats named after loved ones, smoking ciggs and chatting about the days work.

One day I promise I will work up enough courage to confront someone and ask for their photo. There have been countless opportunities but I can´t bring myself to tamper the moment with a shutter click. I need to develop relationships first, so I am hoping these perfect photos ops will happen during my volunteer work in Ecuador. The women in Peru are especially stunning and a portrait of just one would bring all of my other travel photos to shame. There is a powerful history in the faces of these Andean women. Their wrinkles give away long days spent in the sun, toiling over their crops often more than the men. The standard dress is similar to that of a school girls, in that I mostly see them wearing knee-length pleated skirts, with wool stockings and braided hair. This juxtaposes with their strong, solid precense. If only I could sit down and chat with them!! My big curiosity is how they manage to fit bundles of clothing, food, babies in these beautifully woven fabrics the colour of Tucans, keeping them safely on their backs.

Peru. Agh, Peru. Gracie and I could not wait to get here! When we finally arrived after an easy border crossing we made it straight to Arequipa. This city (the 2nd largest in Peru after Lima), is a congested labryinth of cobblestone alleys, palm trees, street vendors, more taxis than I could ever count, nesstled in a valley at the foot of the menacing volcano, El Misti. The most remarkable buildings are the product of Jesuit architects and are made of sillar, a pearly white volcanic material. There is a convent in town taking over 3 blocks, where nuns lived seperated from outsiders for a century before it was discovered that they were up to no good, throwing parties and such. There are still nuns living inside, but most of it remains open for visitors.
In Arequipa I had my cheapest meal to date. 2.50 soles which works out to be around $1 Canadian, for a 2 course meal complete with chicken leg soup (I along with our British friend Pete were the lucky ones to actually have the feet in our soup, nails and all), and sweet tea for dessert.

After 3 nights in our comfy hostel we were ready to get to Cusco, especially after discovering a reasonably priced Spanish school which also partakes in community volunteer work. When we were booking our bus tickets for the overnight journey we discovered that the employees were on strike. Strikes, protests both loud and quiet have been common so far. In Arequipa we saw villagers demonstrating for free, accessible water, a most basic of human rights. Turns out the strike didn´t affect the cheaper, economico buses so the following morning we hopped on with locals and made the 8 hour (ended up being 11), journey to Cusco. Gracie and I were the only gringos on board and had all sorts of experiences, including being constantly stared at by the boy in front, to being thrown up on by a baby next to me (after her mom mixed breast milk with cola!) When we reached Cusco it was dark (sun sets at 6!) and we were exhausted! To make matters worse I ended up consuming something which has led to me being bed-ridden for 2 days (so far). Luckily I am well stocked with antibiotics and electrolytes (important for avoiding dehyrdation especially at extreme altitudes.) Cusco is around 3400 meters above sea level and we´ve been winded simply walking up the street a few meters. I´ve opted to stay at our hostel while Gracie explores the town and gets our course organized. Luckily our hostel is in the car-free, quiet streets of San Blas complete with stunning views of the hills and red tin-roofed valley of Cusco.

Tomorrow we begin our course and hopefully I will be well enough to check out the streets of my new home.

Hope you are all well and enjoying the beginnings of spring!
xo
Emily

Other bits you might find interesting...
In Arequipa we had wine at a Montral Jazz bar owned by Canadians. The wine was cheap and bad, as was the music. The band stuck to cheesy 80s pop songs, but when they sang Spanish songs they seemed to do alright!

I wanted to get a photo of the school kids in Chile and Argentina. The generic uniform is a long, white lab coat which makes the kids look like mini doctors and dentists.

In Peru mini-buses constantly zoom by, narrowly avoiding pedestrians, as a young boy hangs out the door shouting destinations. I have never actually seen one stop to pick up passengers but they are always full and fast.

We finally tried Inka Cola! Full of sugar and tastes like bubble-gum. We were disappointed to learn that it is now owned by Coca Cola. Boo.

Outside Arequipa are the deepest canyons in the world. I stuck to checking it out via post cards as it was a further 6 hours out of the way.

The buses in Peru are a real experience. At every stop vendors come on to sell fruit, strange looking meat, or to tell us a story on the history of Peru in exchange for some soles.

One of the greatest mysteries of South America so far is the recycling of old cds. Kids attatch them to the spokes of their bikes, and I have noticed them being used as window decorations!