UFOs and Other Strange Things You May Not Believe

I'd like to think that I'm a relatively organized person.

At this point, I've started to work out a rather nice travel system.

All of my shirts, skirts, and socks are properly rolled, stacked, and stuffed into my backpack in generally the same manner every time I change locations. I always have hostel information written out, reviewed  and ready to go the night before. I even have specific hiding spots with specifically calculated amounts of monies for quick and easy access ( money for juice? left pocket. Bus fare? Zipper in purse. Fancy restaurant that can probably break the obnoxiously large bills I get from ATMs? ... ). 

The point is, structure is my middle name (my parents seem to think it's Lea, but whatever. I KNOW). 

And yet every time I start a new blog post, I fumble around for like half and hour, trying to figure out how to structure it. bleh. Today, you get a list! And like every good list, this list has a title.

Enjoy.

UFOs and Other Strange Things You May Not Believe

1. Lake Titicaca is the highest, largest lake in South America. It also looks like the Mediterranean. At least, I think it does. I've never been, but the Mediterranean in my mind looks pretty similar to this (but with more grapes, obviously). 

The Lake was absolutely beautiful, and right on the border between Peru and Boliva (say hi to Bolivia!). Though I'd read it was big, I couldn't have been prepared for how the water seemed to stretch itself around so many smaller islands almost endlessly. It felt like a sea. Or even an ocean! I spent about 6 hours laying on the roof of the boat, eating kilos of peanuts and absorbing as much fresh air and sun rays as possible (Puno, the city we disembarked from, was a bit too much city for me--meaning, of course, that it smelled like a city. This made the quiet, the breeze, and the sound of the water against the boat even more incredibly peaceful and appreciated. And you know, as much as I love the warm, cozy llama gear, my fast-fading tan line was a pretty clear wake up call that I needed sun! So that was lovely). Even if...

2. I'm sunburned. 

I DON'T UNDERSTAND HOW TO DEAL WITH THIS.

I mean, I know Fievel and J-biebs are like, "never say never" (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ql1IFJwF0SQ and  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Z5-P9v3F8w), but like, really? This never happens! Yet here I am, red and sad and flaking. You hear that, Peruvian sun? You win! Clearly I'm learning to deal with new challenges every day--I know how to strategically avoid hot shower pressure. I know to ALWAYS accept sunscreen when offered. I even know that taking off my glasses in public is a huge no-no (the tan-line across my nose is awful...but also strangely wonderful, if I'm perfectly honest. A true source of comedic relief).

Anyway, the mexi has fried. 

To all the sunburned people in the world--I am floating through your pain. 

3. I'm also just plain floating. 

One of the major draws on Lake Titicaca are the floating reed islands--they're maintained (aka literally rebuilt) every two weeks by cutting down the nearby reeds, stacking them on top of rooty mud-blocks (which obviously float), and anchoring everything down with synthetic twine and heavy rocks. The anchors keep the entire island from drifting around the Lake, so no one's in danger of floating off, really. Unless they want to, in which case, BAM. 

Reed boat. What up.

Are they lions? Bananas with faces? 

I'm not quite sure, but they're sailing around Lake Titicaca, and for a small fee, so can you!

I'm still not sure how I felt about the floating reed islands. 

Don't get me wrong, the ingenuity and craftsmanship of it all was totally fascinating--but our greetings (we were immediately wrapped in traditional dress) and goodbyes (the women did a synchronized dance and said "hasta la vista, baby!") felt really choreographed and...uh, disneyland-ish? I know I obviously can't ignore the relationship and power that I have as a tourist, and that, in 9 times out of 10, I'm being sold a particular experience--but I didn't get to know the people on Uros island at all. It was very much a "hi, pose, take a picture, leave" kind of stop--a repeatable performance that I, and visitors like me, are very much a part of (for better or worse). 

That being said, I really enjoyed the rest of my trip around the islands! 

The Lake visit took two-days en total. I stayed with a fabulous host-mom named Gloria--she maintained a home by herself, raised three boys (Elvis, Edison, and Darrion), prepared the most wonderful vegetarian meals I've had in Peru, and managed to do everything with extreme kindness, strength, and a smile (Peruvian women never cease to amaze me).She also reassured me that I wasn't crazy when I told her that I saw an OVNI. What's an OVNI, you ask? Well, its an objeto volante no identificado...which leads me straight to number four on the list.

4. I am not crazy. I also saw a UFO. 

I don't have a picture of it, but I have a picture of the spot it was buzzing around the next morning! 

This is me and Christine--she saw it, too. 

It was about 10:00 at night, and Christine and I decided to do some star gazing before bed. There was only solar electricity on the island we were staying at, so everything was pitch-black, which made the stars light up really wonderfully. We'd been talking for about 10 minutes, when Christine stopped mid-sentence and asked in a hushed whisper, "do you see that star moving? There--above the mountain!" Lightening had been flashing around the outskirts of the Lake all night, so I assumed her eyes were playing tricks on her when I looked up and found the pulsing light she was referring to. It was brighter and bigger than any star in the rest of the sky--but as far as I could tell, it wasn't moving. It was just...winking at us.

"No," I said decidedly. "No, I think its just blinking." 

"Oh, well, alright," she said, sounding a little disappointed. Christine's had a fascination since childhood with ancient civilizations, and the conspiracies of alien involvement that shroud these places in mystery. Heck, I'll be the first to admit that I'm right up there with Scully and Mulder when I say "I want to believe!" But when a light's just blinking, I'm thinking, "star," not, "alien on board." When we resumed our conversation, I could tell Christine's mind was somewhere else. Her eyes kept returning to the sometimes-bright, sometimes-not light, but after a few minutes, I managed to put the star completely out of mind, until--

"Look!" Christine stood and pointed. "It IS moving. It's swaying left to right. Can you see it now? Tell me you see this!" 

I looked up at the sky again. 

My mouth fell opened in astonishment. 

Left, right, left again. Like a pendulum, but over huge distances, and with no discernible string in sight. 

Right, left. And suddenly I'm not so sure what I'm seeing, but I know that it's moving predictably--methodically. Back and forth, not quite horizontally, but with a dip in the middle. A twinkling smile in the sky that makes me really uncomfortable--so uncomfortable, I can't blink. 

Christine and I watch this for 10 minutes, quite literally hypnotized, when suddenly, things change, and all I want to do is run inside and slam the door behind me.

This UFO loses its shit. 

It stops moving in a predictable, back-and-forth pattern and starts spazzing out all around the sky. Have you ever sprayed a cat with water, and watched it jump in the air, squirm, and hiss away as fast as possible? Have you ever filled a balloon with air to its fullest capacity--just right before it bursts--but then lost your grip at the very last moment? 

Zipping, dipping, zig-zag mania.

That. is. this. light.

The pulsing dot starts wigging out--up, down, diagonal, dips.

Looping around like a loony--and I start to lose my marbles.

"I'm scared," I whisper to Christine. "What is it doing?"

"I have no idea," she whispers back. But then she pauses and asks, "Why are you frightened?" Christine is totally comfortable with this. She's happy, in fact. She wants IT closer. 

The only brilliant answer I can come up with is, "because I don't understand what's happening.."

This is unfamiliar.

This is strange.

And yeah, I signed up for both of those things when I said "yes" to Bonderman--but I thought discomfort and I would at least share a kindred-planet!!!

Excuse me for ruling out challenges that were other-worldly.

Bonderlesson learned. 

Anyway...

We watched the light dash around for another 45 minutes before it stopped, suddenly, and hung in the sky just like any other star. Winking, slowly. Growing so bright, and then nearly burning out. 

Christine and I both held our breath, temporarily stunned at its stillness. 

And then the light plunged!

Three times faster than we'd seen it move before! It just rocketed downwards. 

Into the Lake? I don't know. It disappeared behind the mountain and we never saw it again.

My host mom says it's normal.

The people who live on the islands of Lake Titicaca don't think twice about seeing OVNI everywhere. 

It happens all the time..

GAH.

5. Speaking of things that happen "all the time" but not really.

This is me, eating guinea pig.

I used to have a guinea pig.

BELIEVE IT OR NOT.

I hope you're all doing well! I've crossed the border and am in Arica, Chile now--but that's a list for another time :) Stay safe!

<3 ak

3-2-1, Happy Place!

I don't even know where to begin.These past 6 days have been one bizzarro-Pizarro adventure.

Let's see here.
My name is Alaska, I'm 22 years old, and I just celebrated my b-day on top of the world?

A girl could do worse :) Hostess cake, anyone?

Don't judge me and my fake foods! I wanted to have a birthday cake (and eat it, too) at the top of Machu Picchu--but there weren't a lot of cakey options that could survive a 5-day trek at 4,600 meters (heck, I barely did!). I needed a prime slice of preferably-chocolate deliciousness to come with me all the way from Cusco, up and down, through hot and cold, across the Andes, the Amazon, and rust-ridden bridges I was confident could collapse at any given moment. Aka, I needed EXTREME cake. That being said, I am happy to announce that the cream filling pulled through! I couldn't have asked for a better birthday cake. Fake cream never tasted so good. "Now that's the stuff--Hostess!"

Its surreal, knowing that I survived a 5-day hike to Machu Picchu. I say "survived" because it was easily the most physically exhausting thing I've done in my life (and certainly the most exhausting thing I've done at the ripe old age of 22--6 days in, and the achy bones have got me already!) But, as crazy as this sounds, the physical struggle that my body worked through (and the pain I literally paid money for! GAH!) made me experience Machu Picchu in a way I couldn't have via bus, train, or car. I was painfully aware of every step of that journey--my lungs gasped at freezing cold air and appreciated the scenic breaks along the route that slowed my heart-rate and gave me time to soak in what was happening around me. Machu Picchu wasn't something to just check off a bucket list--it was a struggle and an achievement and well-worth the entire trip (even if I bitterly cursed myself starting on day 2. PAAH.) Would I do it again? No. But I sure am happy I made it the first time :) Pelvic thrust thumbs up!

The surrealism is a bit harder to explain. Role with me.

When I walk down the streets of Peru and see posters, pictures, and greeting cards of Machu Picchu stapled across walls, or sold in open markets, I can say--in complete astonishment--"I was there." When I do a basic Google search of "Peru," and pull up that classic Machu Picchu photo, I can hold it next to the pictures I took, and see smiling me, beaming back from the mountain top. I'm in those pictures! This is real life! See that giant mountain behind the Machu Picchu ruins? It's called Wayna Picchu. It towers over the mysterious Inca structures that we're still unsure about today. 

This is me, sitting on top of it. 

I'm higher than the clouds and I can almost touch the sky.

Surreal, right?

Still, who can have highs without a few lows?

This is me, wanting to fall over and never move again.

Everything has its ups and downs.

I may have wheezed under my breath (at several points during the trip) "thisssss.. is how.. I die." 

But at the end of the day, I made it! 

This is this tale of my uphill battle with the Salkantay trail.

Pre-depature: I spent about 4 days in Cusco adjusting to the altitude, buying kilos of peanuts from the outdoor markets (nom), and stocking up on sufficient llama gear for the nights ahead of me--it was also probably one of the most relaxing periods time that I've had in Peru thus far. My only objectives? Explore the city, drink lots of juice, and try not to lose my breath in the thin oxygen (aka NO strenuous activity). Needless to say, Cusco and I got along quite well :) 

I was feeling pretty fancy on day one, even after the 4:00am departure. Here's a picture of complacent, happy me and complacent, happy hiking group. We're ready for the trek ahead.

After about 8 hours of hiking up some pretty treacherous little rock-paths (and several happy-place daydreams about Disneyland, Johnny Depp, and peanut butter-- in no particular order) we came to a view that made it all worth it. This is Salkantay mountain, the trek's namesake and possibly one of the prettiest things I've seen in a while (again, my head was filled with daydreams of Johnny Depp, so when I say "prettiest thing I've seen in a while," you know the view's good).

Look, exuberant seeing!

And then began day two.
Four hours straight up, four hours straight down, and one mind-warping last hour until we finally arrived at camp. Those were dark times. Even quoting the entire first Harry Potter movie (which, I'm quasi-embarrassed to say, I can do) couldn't pull me through this one. After a while, I just had to resort to a military 1-2-3-4 step pattern, and push every ounce of concentration I had left into picking my feet up, bringing them slowly back down to the earth, and hoping, at the end of this process, I was somewhat closer to camp. Fueled by Coca tea, bread, and questionable looking soups, day two--undoubtedly the hardest of them all--came and went, and allowed me to push past the rest of the trip with the confidence that, "hey, after that, I can do anything!" Even pee in the woods! I'm an expert now, thanks very much (and as someone that hasn't done a great deal of camping, this is big news).

Day three and four only had six hours of hiking each day--but after the uphill/downhill powerhouse combination of day two, I think everyone needed to give their protesting bodies a stern talking-to. As difficult  as the trek was, I met some fabulous people in my group--people that handled the stress with courtesy and grace, and were kind even at the most difficult points in the journey (altitude sickness, food poisoning, 3am rooster wake ups, etc). Our group did a great job of willing each other on, and thanks to their constant good company and support, I made it to day five and could see this--the sun rise on Machu Picchu. 

I woke up at 4:30 am to get there early--the site was empty, quiet, and more perfect than I could have imagined. 

A lot of people that I've spoken with come to Machu Picchu looking for a spiritual epiphany. I'll be honest, I didn't have that. I could appreciate the magnificence of my surroundings, and the physicality of my experience getting there--but I left Machu Picchu without any new found wisdom or religious understanding. The silence was nothing but silence. It was beautiful, but only because I could hear myself so clearly. This is not a vain statement. I don't think my thoughts are more beautiful than anyone else's. I just really appreciated having room to think. 

I was intrigued, however, by the number of people that snapped quick photos of themselves in yoga poses before laughing their way to the next picture-taking site. Commodified spirituality, anyone? It was interesting to me that having the appearance of being meditative (and having photographic proof that Machu Picchu made them spiritual) was somehow more important than working toward a wise-way of being. If I see another person in a yoga-pose at Machu Picchu, I might poke myself in the eye with incense. Stop the madness! 

Take your time.

Don't get me wrong, I love a good posed-picture as much as the next girl.

Take, for example, the llama pictures that I have with these fellows on the path.

I was lucky--soon after this, they ran off to graze in the plaza. But with a face like that, how can you be camera shy! Silly llamas--even if you have freakishly human-like teeth, I still find you oddly charming.

I guess I just wish that everyone had time to sit on Machu Picchu and do nothing--because doing nothing can play such an important role in starting to think something!

When you have about a month in each country, time takes on an entirely new meaning.

Every day is Saturday. 

You can make space for yourself, and that's really nice.

One thing I'm still thinking over is a comment a guide made in passing.

In a light-hearted voice, he talked about the technical, intellectual, and cultural achievements of the Inca peoples. Then, with his smile still in place, he remarked that had the Spanish not taken all of this away from Peru with their invasion, perhaps he would be traveling to Europe at that very moment, and some light-skinned person would be his tour guide. 

The people in my group laughed.
Humor has a funny way of expressing really bitter truths.

That was my journey to Machu Picchu.
I'm in Puno now, preparing to visit the floating reed islands tomorrow--but I still feel like I'm floating in a surreal world, and I'm not sure I want to come back down.

Loving this trip, but missing you!
<3 ak

It Happens

Remember that part in Forrest Gump where Tom Hanks is inspired to run across the country in the swanky new shoes that Jenny buys him? He basically gives up shaving, having a permanent addresses, and other stereotypical sensibilities that accompany this american life to run around in a seemingly meaningless fashion and be alone for a little bit. Yeah, he has a group of supporters behind him, but lets face it--Tom's alone. And sometimes, he steps in shit.

For your viewing pleasure:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3b3vg9k8Abc

It happens.
But to the complete bewilderment to those around him, Tom keeps running!
(stay with me on this Forrest Gump metaphor for a while. I swear, its going somewhere).

I'm only traveling for eight months (vs running around America for 2 years) but again, the relevance of Forrest Gump to my life is astonishing. In fact, here's a picture of me cleaning poop off my shoes in San Andres! No bueno. I had intended for this to be about more than my "charming" photograph--but there's not really an easy way to ease into certain subjects. I'm kind of trying. I guess I'll just say it. This picture was taken 5 days ago, just 2 blocks away from my hostel and about 10 feet from where my friend and I were robbed at gunpoint.


No one was hurt. Nothing irreplaceable was taken. In fact, I wasn't going to mention it at all, but word travels quickly, and it became pretty clear pretty quickly that the cat was out of the bag--a statement had to be made. I lost some Oreos and a few badly written poems that I'm mildly peeved about, but in complete honesty, the robbery was quite direct. There are four 14-19 year old muchachos cruising around Pisco with a some stale cookies, my filter-water bottle, and a handful of tampons--but I was completely unharmed, and all things considered, extremely okay. I had plenty of support immediately afterwards and filed a police report later that night (huzzah Peruvian police stations). In fact, I even got a few souvenirs! Behold this lovely photographic evidence: my inky-finger--remnants of being fingerprinted at the police station, and also some fried chicken. The hostel owner kindly took care of that meal for us, since neither of us really felt up to scrounging around the city that night for food.

To preemptively side-step some conversations I've had these past few days, I've created a FAQ section for this blogpost.

Q: Were you walking around on a moonless, cold, frigid heartless night?
A: No, it was 5:30pm, and the sun was in full swing.

Q: Were you alone in some sketchy abandoned alleyway?
A: No--I was 10 feet from my hostel, and there was a plaza/market area behind us. In fact, a rather large crowd of people buzzed around the corner in question just seconds after Heather and I made it inside.

Q: Were you waving around expensive valuables, leaving trails of dollars on the floor, or otherwise attracting unwanted attention with your flamboyant wealth?
A: No. I wasn't even carrying a bag--just wearing a coat. My friend had my backpack on (we'd biked through the National Park earlier that day), but other than that, we were empty-handed.

Q: Did you notice anything suspicious before you walked into this situation? Eerie music? Crickets chirping? A personal invitation from muchacho #2 to continue on route in order to make our pre-established 5:30 robbery?
A: No--nothing seemed strange at all. I've never had reason to be afraid of a 14 year old boy--and his three friends were initially out of sight. I hadn't felt unsafe in San Andres before this moment, and didn't walk into an ambush because I thought it sounded like a fun idea. The fact is, it looked like any other street at any other moment.

Q: So when are you coming home?
A: ...

These questions are obviously a little ridiculous. So is victim blaming.

Hearing about an ordeal like this from another part of the world can understandably induce feelings of panic, paralysis, or powerlessness--and I know that most of the time, these questions come from a place of love--but I will not let this incident define my entire experience. Please understand me when I say that I can't come home because of this, and that sometimes, when shit happens, you've really got to just keep running. For every terrible person I've met, I've met hundreds of truly wonderful people--I've seen and done awesome, inspiring, unforgettable things. That is worth something. It's not so easily shrugged aside. Here's a brief look at some of that great stuff that has happened these past 5 days. I hope you can see where I'm coming from when I tell you, with conviction, that I am okay. I am. And that this single experience can't overshadow the rest of the time I've had traveling.

I've eaten delicious food that, if I'm completely honest, was totally out of my comfort zone--especially considering that 2 months ago, I was a vegetarian (save the occasional and guilt-ridden stop at In-N-Out Burger). Here's a picture of cow heart, which is extremely soft and...dissolve-y? Melty? I don't know how to describe it, but you should try it. It's marvelous. I also had some alpaca steak today--but I had just purchased an alpaca scarf, so I felt slightly more guilty (which is ironic, given that Anticuchos is the life-organ of an animal?) I'm not sure how this guilt stuff works, but I'm going to put it aside and just remember how tasty it all was.

I've also been to the Ballestas Islands, off the coast of Paracas. They've been referred to as "the poor man's Galapagos." Having been to the Galapagos a few years ago, I can say pretty assuredly that they're similar--if you replace freaky black iguanas with more sealions! Yay sealions! The water was darker, cooler, and less clear, but the penguins, starfish, and beautiful rock formations were definitely worth the salt-in-your-lungs breeze and mysterious white splatter that appeared on my coat (baby bird guano? Maybe?) Fun fact: a few years ago, shipping bird poop to Europe for fertilizers was one of Peru's largest sources of income. Every six years, they scrape off the stinky stuff and send it off for mucho dinero.

And here's me eating a hairy crab soup--which was tasty. When the hostel owner asked me what I'd had for dinner, I told him it was "sopa con una cangrejo peluda"--literally, "soup with a hairy crab." He found that oddly hysterical. Are crabs usually hairy? I didn't think so. Apparently, the fact that my crab was fuzzy wasn't such an impressive thing as I'd thought. But look--he's waving at you :)

Hi from Peru.

Heather and I also went biking through the Paracas National Reserve. It was...different than we'd expected (read: it was a desert). It was also longer than we'd anticipated. Considering that the day before, we'd walked 9 miles to save 60 cents, I think its safe to say that Heather and I have a track record of underestimating distances. Still, we made sure that the National Park wasn't just something to check off a list--it was an experience! The wind was strong, the sand stretched for miles in any direction, and the mineral beaches were just phenomenal. We even saw 2 vibrant purple jellies! I won't be forgetting this for a while--neither will my butt. That bike seat was awful.. 

Finally, I spent some time in Ica and Huacachina--the oasis of Peru. In the middle of these giant sand dunes is a small, beautiful city. Palms grow in the water and help cool the temperature by several degrees. It was the ideal place to buy fresh strawberry juice, sit in the grass, and just..breathe. The oasis was (originally) natural--but now it's maintained by a white water-tower.You can kind of see it in this picture. Still, whichever way you look at things, Huacachina is lovely. Earlier that day, we'd gone to a wine and pisco vineyard and done quite a bit of Peruvian liquour sampling, so this afternoon was just a drowsy, happy blanket of relaxation--precisely what the backpackers ordered!

We livened things up later that day in sand buggies. GAH. Imagine real life Indiana Jones ride + huge sand dune drops that you race down at outrageous speeds. Thrill factor? I think yes. I also tried sand surfing, which was just ridiculously high. Like, you look over the edge of the dune and basically want to crawl into a hole. No brakes? No helmet? No turning back. But when you reach the bottom of the dune, you know that all that anxiety and nervousness and fret was totally worth the experience (hint)--its just you, the wind whistling past your ears, and thousands of tiny pieces of sand that glide you down the dune faster than you'd believe. Quite fun-- if you like roller coasters without seat belts.

Did I also mention that its beautiful?

I'm not sure what's happening tomorrow, or the day after that--but there's so much potential.
Leaving isn't quite that easy.
I'm not necessarily grateful for the negative things that have happened on this trip--not yet. Maybe not ever. But they have informed the place that I'm at now. They've impacted the way that I walk around Peru.
I like where I am now.
I like where I can go tomorrow.

And, for now at least, I'm sending you my love from Cusco.
<3 ak

Peruvian Freestyle

There's an illusive and precarious balancing point for planning travel trips that I'm still trying to figure out--after all, it's nice to have routes marked out and hostels booked before you hit the road. It also soothes the nerves of the parentals :) But let me tell you--planning out bus routes, hostel schedules, and long-term calendar commitments is probably the most un-glamorous part of traveling (thanks for the spell check, Fergie). The options can be completely overwhelming, and if you're not careful, you'll sit there and micro-manage every last detail. This is particularly difficult for me--I'm a big map-maker/list-creator. I can spend hours comparing options, almost to a point of paralysis! And when there's a city full of living, breathing, amazing possibility outside your hostel, the last thing you want to do is huddle in a corner with your Netbook and price bus-lines.  Blah blah no bueno. It makes my hair fall out (well, this and Mitt Romney).

So. I've started  a mini-retraining process.

Foucault meets Pavlov, if you will.  

When I start obsessing about the baby-deets, I try singing instead some John Lennon instead.

After all, "Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L_j-tpmdPlI

It might have taken me two hours to plan my trip, and I may have been a little obsessive about reading hostel reviews, but I finally made my great Lima escape! Hello from San Andres, a small fishing village between Pisco and Paracas. This is the view from my hostel window. I can see the sky! I can smell salt in the air! There is sun here. I am happy.

I do want to give credit where credit is due. Lima was full of beautiful and unexpected things--things I never could have found in a guidebook, and things I never would have come across had I not stumbled around blindly for a solid set of time (stubbing a few metaphorical toes in the process [note to self: metaphorical toes sound gross--next time, use words better]). The rest of this post is dedicated to the gems de Lima that you just can't plan--the stuff you stumble into. Peruvian freestyle, yo.

Take, for example, this ceviche. Two days ago while wandering my way to a museum (which, come to think of it, I never actually made it to), I discovered this huge expo fair in the middle of downtown district. Huge white tents filled a 2 block radius--and on display? Food, food, food. Also crafts, but I'm a one-track-mind kind of girl. I zoomed in on the ceviche real quick. For 5 sol (~$2), you could buy a plate of fried squid, fried yuca, sweet potato, spiced corn, and fresh, delicious, lime-fish! Now, I've heard mixed reviews about how reliable street food is (especially in Peru, where stomach-flu is common), but really? Can you blame me? I also bought  a pair of brightly-colored llama earrings--character pieces for my future teacher wardrobe.  

I have a lot of weaknesses. Funky jewelry is one of them--hot chocolate is another. I bought a cup of hot chocolate at this fair for dessert, and it was the end of me. I've had a cup every day since then. I think it might be time for some more re-training--just the words "hot chocolate" make me salivate (again, Alaska--quit with the weird images). I digress. Funky fashions are my passions--and while walking around Plaza de Armas yesterday, I came across a parade that was truly inspiring. Several districts of Peru had come together, in traditional dress, and were celebrating Sunday in style. Here's a picture of some of the organized dancing that was going on--watching the skirts swirl is memorizing. They also had guards and ponies on parade, which had a very regal feel (and if we're honest, a not-so-regal smell).

Never underestimate the power of your senses (6th, smell, or otherwise). I can't tell you how many small food stands I've been magnetically drawn to based on how delicious things smell--no matter how full I am. It's Peruvian magic, I tell you! Add this to my list of weaknesses. We encountered one of these mystifying wonders on our exploration of the Miraflores district yesterday--another unexpected delight. Thi, Heather, Paul and I were walking through the main plaza, rather aimlessly, and BOOM, it hit us. Delicious smell + long line = a promise. We're talking about a 30 minute wait, here. Naturally, trying the dish was a must. Everyone else was doing it! The stand was selling Peruvian pumpkin and sweet potato doughnuts, covered in maple syrup. They're called Picarones and they're...mildly tasty? I wasn't impressed after my first *cough* two? But you know what they say--third Picarones' a charm :) By the end, I'd been wooed.

Speaking of charms, I'm writing this down here so I don't forget. 

Cmon, Bonderblog. Hold me accountable. 

Thi, a friend from Australia, has been doing some serious traveling for the past 6 months--and one way she's managed to bring a piece of each place with her is by buying small pendants, charms, earrings, bracelets--whatever draws you in--and eclectically threading them them all onto a single string. It makes for a kick-ass piece of jewelry, and an inspiring way to keep your travels close. I can't begin to imagine what my travels will look like, but I'm positive that they'll manifest into something I'll keep with me for a very, very long time. So wish me luck on the pendant hunt!

My last night in Lima was magic--literally (and not just because I was happy to be moving out of the city!) Heather and I visited Fuente Magica, a huge park in the middle of Lima with almost twenty water fountains. It was a giant oasis, and I great way to end my stay there. The major water-show was synced with classical music, which was entrancing, but I was actually partial to a lot of the smaller fountains. They had Peruvian music playing in the background, and made the air feel--charged, almost? It was lively and lovely and more beautiful than the slow Fantasia-esque show I typically associate with "synchronized fountains." Same amazing Monet-color, more soul.

Here are a few pictures!

I could spend hours watching lights on the water (Gatssssby).

Here's a picture of Heather, en silhouette. The water colors are all melty and lovely at the bottom. Of course, Heather is lovely, too :) And then below is a picture of my favorite part of the park. Despite the chilly weather and quasi-late hour, the park was full of children dancing and playing in the fountain. Huzzah! All hours are play hours in Lima.

Overall, it was a great end to my the city-trip, and a nice way to say goodbye :) The ride from Lima was Paracas was about 4 hours (I watched a lot of Friends), but it was probably more comfortable than any airplane ride I've ever had. Bus #1 success! Hopefully the rest of my buses through South Peru go as smoothly. I have high hopes! I'll try to write more soon. Until then!

Many misses,

<3 ak

Bonderlesson #352: Love Your Feet

Today, I got lost.

Here is a picture.

Take the thousand words that this is supposedly worth and help me fill in the blanks as I stumble my way through this description. 

Photo cred goes to my dear friend (and partner in lostness), Camille. 

I can tell you now, being lost isn't the best feeling--but it is easier when you're together.

We hear a lot of motivational speeches about the value that comes from being lost, and how much you have to gain when you "lose your way." In fact, I'm pretty sure I gave one of those speeches at the honors celebration of distinction. It's easy to say that being lost can lead toward character-building moments, or nuggets of insight that open entirely new doors--but when you're walking around for 5 hours without a clue, the philosophical payout suddenly doesn't seem so grand. In fact, that only thing you can think about is Lieutenant Dan's advice to take care of your feet (thank Germany for Birkenstocks. Also, I'm not sure why Forrest Gump references are becoming such an integral part of my trip...but I think I know better than to question it [insert box of chocolates reference and possibly a feather floating in the wind]). I guess if I'm honest, I wasn't just thinking about my feet. I also had to concentrate on walking with deliberate slowness--because running up and down the street with a wild look in your eyes probably doesn't send the best message.

Let me explain: through a series of unfortunate events, Camille, Lorraine and I ended up walking all over downtown Lima looking for an address we wrote down incorrectly (hence our permanent state of lost). After several hours of walking, asking, and, well, struggling, we made our way to an internet cafe-- and my love for Google Maps was revitalized. Instant clarity! It became very clear very quickly that we'd just spent the past 3 hours tilting at windmills--but we were okay! We had Papas Rellenos in our tummies, a new (and correct) address to go off of, and plenty of sunlight left in the day. We'd also done quite a bit of off-road site seeing, which, in all honesty, was pretty cool. The colors on buildings really are beautiful. But because our intended destination was actually across town, we decided to take a quick cab ride there and be done with it. Seems simple enough, right? Er. Not quite.

There are a few things you shouldn't do when you're in Lima. Common sense things--nothing dramatic.

1) Ride in cheap taxis/buses--they will crash and you will be hurt.

2) Flash your high-price items around and then leave them unattended--obvs. This isn't Lima specific.

3) Cross the bridge by the City Center.

Like, seriously. Don't do it.

In fact, most of the time, you couldn't do it if you wanted to! I've been lucky--throughout my travels thus far, I've met countless people with my best interests in mind--people that are really looking out for me. Peru is no exception. I've had people ask me if I'm lost, point me in the right direction...and warn me not to cross the bridge: "You should turn around. This is not a good area for you." Always a foreboding piece of advice. Any sensible person would high-tail it out of there and listen. And normally I do! But when we gave the taxi driver the correct address, and he started driving us away from downtown, across the bridge, and into the hills of dull-colored houses--well, none of us had planned on that.

The tops of these hills are smooth and light green--like the inside of a ripe avocado. But when your eyes travel down the mountain, everything ripens too soon. It is dirty and brown and covered in smog. The city smells like gasoline and old tires, and the houses look like the flecks of paint that fell of something else--something that was colorful a long, long time ago. You could peel the houses up or blow them away even, but the mountain would still be dead--and you'd be busy picking up flecks of paint for a while. Outside of downtown Lima, these kind of houses are the only reality. Its a reality so far removed from the Securidad I see riding around on Segways in Miraflores, or stationed outside of every single Starbucks in Lima, the situation becomes far-fetched, and reality seems entirely unbelievable. But when you remember to keep yourself honest, its not as confusing as you wish it was. 

I wish the contrast was difficult, nonsensical, or hard to understand, but it is painfully clear why the city clumps public services in very specific areas, and almost entirely abandons another. There is a controlled portion or Lima that is "good for me," and people like me. Then there is a portion of Lima I am not intended to see (like a House of Leaves label--"this is not for you"). You can accidentally cross the bridge and see Lima for yourself--but if you do, you're lost. At least, I was. Am? 

Yeah.

Lima is the bruised and black part of an avocado that you try to scrape off with your fingernail--until you realize that the discoloration is just too deep and that your avocado has a rotten patch you need to dig it out with a spoon--but this makes you uncomfortable, so you lose your appetite. 

Writing about this part of Lima makes me that uncomfortable. In fact, if I'm honest, Lima in general makes me pretty uncomfortable. I don't like the jarring sensation of looking across the bridge and seeing how rotten my avocado is--especially when these neighborhoods are just a hop, skip, and a jump away from the main Plaza Center (which is gorgeous) or Plaza de Mayo, in colonial town (also beautiful)--places I'm suppose to go. Allowed to go. Encouraged to see.

There are huge disparities within this country that are forcing me to simultaneously hold two visions of Lima at once--of the place I've lost, and the place I was lost in--and I don't know how to reconcile the role that I play in ether of these Limas. I'm also just not sure where to walk, given the discomfort I have in certain places. I need to strike some kind of balance. Clearly there's a line between challenging myself and putting myself in danger--but there's also a danger (a subtle, ideological danger) that comes with only going places I'm supposed to see--places of safety (psychological and otherwise). How do I sort out Lima in my head?
I'm lost.

I don't like not knowing what I'm thinking.

And right now, I feel like I don't know very much.

There are a few things, though, that I think I've finally figured out.

No matter how uncomfortable/afraid/and guilty you feel, at the end of the day, you can't make it on your own. You must trust people, and be willing to ask for help. In order for Camille, Lorraine, and I to make it back safely, we needed to put a lot of faith in the kindness of others--namely, a small taxi-man who'd built a chain-link cage around his car seat and was overly enthusiastic with the car horn. When you're feeling paralyzed, concentrate on walking as honestly as possible, and have faith that the kindness in others will recognize the kindness in you.

Today was heavy, but I'm learning.

This is Alaska, signing out with real talk and a photograph.

Make friends and drink coffee.

We'll talk again soon.

<3 ak

Good Eats!

Can I just move to Peru?

Please?

Because sometimes, a girl's just got to eat.

And Peru--well, Peru knows how to eat!

I've been so well fed these past few days, you can't imagine (so I'll help you with pictures). A huge part of that has been thanks to my lovely host family, Laura and Enrique. Here's a picture of our celebration/thank-you-for-hosting-me dinner! Laura (left) is Belgian, and teaches English here in Peru, and her husband Enrique (center) is Afro-Peruvian--he's lived here all his life. 

Our long talks over Nescafe, orange bread, and boiled-water lemonade helped me see a side of Peru I just couldn't have know without them--things about the state of politics in the country, or the relationship between the indigenous population and the environment. We talked about education, we talked about women. I knew that joining Servas would allow me to meet some fantastic people, but there's no way I could have estimated how rewarding relationships with people you met two days ago can grow to be, or how much you can learn about kindness (and a country!) in such a short amount of time. 

Also cooking.

One of my favorites? Papas de Huancaina (or as k-dawg puts it, papayas in a hurricane). It actually has nothing to do with papayas or tropical rainstorms--but now that we're on the subject, the weather has been a bit chilly. Thank goddess for American Apparel tights! But no, no. The dish actually includes peeled, boiled potatoes and a... chili pepper cheese sauce? It's deliciously difficult to explain--you'll just have to take my word for it that it tastes wonderful. I've also learned how to prepare Lomo Saltado (literally "jumping beef"), a Peruvian dish with some serious Chinese influence (which isn't surprising once you realize that there's a huge population of Chinese here). You throw (or jump) some meat around in a pan with soy sauce, onions, and tomatoes, and serve it along with fried potatoes. Delicious. Think I'm ready for my honorary Iron Chef Peru hat? I do.

I think one of the reasons things taste so delicious here are because you can find some really great ingredients at the local outdoor markets hidden all around the city--I say hidden because they don't pop up in the touristy areas, and I would have had no clue about them without Laura and Enrique. In reality, they're not hidden at all. These markets are local hubs for people who want to buy lunch, dinner ingredients, AND get their shoes repaired--all in the same place! I haven't seen any markets in my new area, but my eyes are peeled. I'm on the lookout! 

Speaking of new areas--here's a picture of my hostel. I'm staying in Barranco, a district in Lima that my host family recommended. It's quasi-bohemian and filled with local music, art, and crafts. Its also less touristy than typical Miraflores, which is nice. Once again, I'm pretty pleased with my housing set up! 

Bohemia Exhibit A: this small coffee shop is just a few blocks from my hostel. fresh flowers on the table, and french jazz in the background--I could actually spend all day here. In fact, that's a very real possibility for tomorrow. Also, I should note that I know this person--I'm not entirely creepy.This is Alex from my hostel.  He and Camille have spent a bit of time in Lima already, and took me to this gem for fresh strawberry juice, pastries  and coffee. It's a great place to read and write. Time to get my creative writing on!

Bohemia Exhibit B: The Brazilian film festival is in town! And by "in town," I mean that Alex and I walked...approximately 3 hours to get there? But we finally made it, and the film was totally worth it. So was the walk. Here's a picture of Larcomar, the huge shopping center that's built into the mountainside and overlooks the coast. Also, don't worry--we took a bus home to avoid the 3 hour trek back (on second thought, if you know anything about the traffic in Peru, the fact that we took a bus home is exponentially more terrifying). 1.20 sol, baby! (roughly 70 cents?)

Even with the bus ride back, I'm feeling pretty sleepy. Post-presidential debate crash? Who knows. If you're desperate for caffeine though, I recommend Inca Kola. It smells like bubble gum and tastes like apples coated in sugar melted in honey. 

Gotta try it all once! 

I'll pass on the Kola this time. This kid is ready for some sleep.

My bed is seriously so comfortable, I think I'm gonna die-- but the promise of a delicious lunch will probably keep me hanging in there :) I hope you're all  doing well. Eat/drink some pumpkin flavored things for me! I can't believe we're half way through Octubre! Ahh!

Goodnight, sweet ladies <3 I am missing you. 

ak