Lima and Urubamba Valley

2012 - the year of Latin America - has come to a close. Of the 3 international trips we took this year, all were to visit our friends to the South - two to Central America (Costa Rica and Mexico), and this final Christmas trip to Peru. Peru was the 35th country I've visited, yet the first one South of the equator. I finally got to experience summer during winter - file that one under momentous travel occasions.

This was certainly not a relaxing trip. We were constantly on the go; our days started early and ended late, and were crammed chock-full of sights and impressions spanning the spectrum from beautiful and enlightening to introspective and hard to swallow. There were 4 am wake up calls, long treks in high altitude where your head spun and your lungs burned. In fact, altitude oscillated between sea-level and 14,000 feet, and we went from sweltering in our t-shirts to shivering in our jackets and hats - sometimes all in one day. Such is the reality on South America's Pacific coast, where the Andes tower right out of the ocean, yielding no more than a sliver of rocky, tempestuous beachfront, and rise higher and higher for miles, where ancient cities and reclusive indigenous tribes dwell, forever among the clouds.

There was much novelty throughout this journey, as will happen inevitably when you dip below familiar latitudes. Peru's amazing geographic diversity went a long way in ensuring that we felt well outside of our familiar elements. We ate and drank things we've never tasted before, learned about long-lost cultures we never knew existed, slept in a monastery high in the mountains, walked along original Inca-era cobblestones in the oldest city of the western hemisphere, and rode a boat made of reeds on the highest navigable lake in the world.

Lima

But, before all these amazing things transpired, we spent a day in the country's sprawling capital, Lima. Lima is situated right on the coast, yet it is unlike any of the coastal cities I've visited before. Forget about the typical gentle slopes or laconic rolling hills framing a bustling port. This coastline explodes right out of the sea, allowing for no more than a few feet of rocky, pebbled beaches sloping above gray, roiling waters, and a few lanes of road warning you every few feet along the way that in case of a tsunami warning, you should hightail it out of this area immediately.

After that, it's imposing, sheer cliff-side, with clumps of anemic looking vegetation holding on for dear life, and only after that - Lima itself.

Needless to say, it's an unusual sight, unfamiliar and very beautiful, in its own way; a city and its coast sharing the geography in a carefully negotiated balance. And locals really do seem to make the best of it. The beaches are teeming with surfers and sunbathers taking full advantage of whatever redeeming qualities they happen to see in this arrangement.

There are also quite a few parasailers making use of the constant upward draft rising along the cliffs from the sea. And then there's El Malecón, a six-mile stretch of coast-side promenade winding among parks, cafes and shopping centers, a perfect place to roam if you want to take in all the grandeur and beauty while breathing the salty air.

This city is hot and muggy. The sun rarely makes a full appearance, it just beats down through a thin film of clouds; bright enough to require sunglasses and measures against B.O., but muted enough to flatten the light and give everything a hazy, ethereal feel. But despite the clouds, humidity, and the ocean lapping at its foundation, Lima is nevertheless the 2nd driest capital in the world, coming in right behind Cairo, with only 3 inches of annual rainfall!

We started our visit with a walking tour of the Old City. It should be noted that Lima is actually 43 small cities clumped together, independent districts that make up the metropolis, each with its own unique history and population. The "Old City" is located deep inside this maze, around Plaza de Armas - the seat of the government and Justice Palace.

Plaza de Armas, Lima Old City

Ornate wood carved balconies on the Justice Palace. Plaza de Armas, Lima

First, we visited the San Franciscan Monastery - a storied and atmospheric museum of local history. I was very bummed that we couldn't take photos inside, especially when we were shown the Library, with its amazing collection of colonial and pre-colonial volumes set in the original space. Imagine - winding wood-carved staircases, gorgeous dusty tomes, crystal chandeliers...it's simply amazing. Look it up. We did manage to sneak a phone picture in the catacombs/ossuary, which served as the city's first cemetery and contains 70,000 remains of Lima's earliest dead.

Who doesn't love a festive skull-and-femur arrangement?

At lunch, in a lovely restaurant with a patio overlooking the ocean, Flo and I discovered 2 things that immediately became our Great Peruvian Loves, sought after and savored at every opportunity - ceviche, and Pisco Sours.

When he's not delivering insurance your way, Flo enjoys a robust cocktail.

In doing my research for the trip, I came across a few tips suggesting to avoid Pisco Sours because they require raw egg in their preparation, thus presenting health concerns to dainty American stomachs. Fair advice, but we're not always known for our level-headedness. When presented with a choice between trying a regional specialty or not contracting salmonella, we usually go with the former. Anyway, this first Pisco Sour at the Mangos cafe on El Malecón was a true revelation. Like a hit of crack, once we tasted it, we knew instantly that there's be no going back, and, starting on that very first day, we threw caution to the wind and consumed this magical libation whenever we could.

To those of you thinking: "Meh... I've had Pisco Sours at my trusty neighborhood bar, they're OK, I don't know what you guys are so evangelical about" - let me just clarify something for you right now. What you had was llama piss. Upon our return to the US, we went to one of Austin's best cocktail bars - a surefire stop for all things related to mixed masterpieces - and what they made was a total fail. A decent tasting drink, to be sure, but NOT a Pisco Sour. So, we did some research, bought a slew of exotic ingredients (Angostura Bitters?...) and tried to recreate the magic at home. It was better than what we had at the bar, but still a far cry from the quasi-religious experience that arrived in frosty pastel colored glory all throughout Peru. (If you're interested in learning how to make this amazing drink properly, read this. And, if you're going to make it, please invite me over.)

In the evening, we prowled Barranco, the bohemian district of Lima that has always attracted vacationers and famous writers, a lovely spot full of taverns, restaurants, parks and architectural gems.

Barranco

Bridge of Sighs in Barranco. Local legend has it that those who cross the bridge while holding their breath will have their wish granted.

Noisy cafes, shops, and street music make up the boisterous soundtrack to Barranco night life 

Urubamba - Sacred Valley
The next day we left the safety of sea-level, oxygen rich air, and flew to Cusco. Those who have known us for a while may remember that we visited Colombia in 2008, and that I got a serious case of altitude sickness in Bogota at 8,600 feet. In Cusco, we disembarked at 11,200 feet. I'd been having anxiety fits about this for weeks. Altitude sickness is weird, in that you can never predict whom it's going to affect and how. Sometimes lifelong smokers do just fine, and then some triathlete chick dies of hypoxia in the Peruvian high planes. There's no logic to it. But, having experienced it before, and at much lower altitude, I was understandably anxious when I got off that plane. But - I knew to expect it, so I walked off that plane slowly, breathing evenly, looking straight ahead as much as possible. And, it was ok. I certainly felt it, it was weird, but the worst subsided quickly and within a few hours I was back to normal.

A cure for what ails ya: Coca tea, made from the leaf of the Coca plant - is the best remedy for altitude sickness. You can find it in the lobby of every hotel in the region, and it's available at every cafe, restaurant, and snack stop.

We didn't stay in Cusco during the first few days; instead, we made our way to the Sacred Valley, called Urubamba, the cradle of the Inca civilization. This area was truly the heartland of the Inca empire, this was where they grew all of the crops needed to feed their population of 10 million plus people. The name of "Sacred Valley" also seems very fitting when you see it; it's quite beautiful.

Our first stop in Urubamba was Ollantaytambo - an archaeological site from the 15th century, a former town, as well as a terraced agricultural site and temple complex. It was our first glimpse of true Inca ruins, and it was really breathtaking.

We would later learn more about the importance of terracing in Incas' agricultural efforts, and the incredibly advanced practices that they developed to grow and manipulate their crops. At Ollaytantambo, though, we were too busy gawking at the scenery - blown away by our first encounter with an Incan city - to take in too much historical information.

Parts of the site are carved into the surrounding cliff-side while the moon hovers overhead.

Me (and my hair) in Ollaytantambo.

We stayed at a Franciscan monastery that had been converted into a hotel, with the backdrop of the Andes and clouds floating just overhead, seemingly close enough to touch.

Our hotel

Hotel courtyard

While in Urubamba, we also visited the Maras Saltpans - over 3,000 giant pits arranged on the side of a cliff, fed by a small salty stream that emerges from under the mountain and fills the ponds through an intricate system of channels.

Las Salinas de Maras, aka Maras saltpans. Note the narrow stream on the left.

The stream has been emerging for thousands of years. Not only has salt been harvested here during the Incan  empire, archaeological evidence suggests that humans have been using this salt for thousands of years, long before the Inca flourished in these parts. The salt pans are still operational, and are harvested every year during the dry season.

Even though the pans were not being harvested during our visit (it being the wet season), it's still one of the most unusual and geologically curious sites that we've ever seen. The stream is so salty, that it's totally safe for dainty tourists to dip a finger and try the water. It's utterly disgusting, but at least you can be sure no bacteria can lurk in water like that. Teams of geologists have tried to determine the origin of the stream, but no instrument is strong enough to penetrate far enough into the bedrock to track it. So, no one really knows where it comes from and what causes the wild level of salinity. One can only assume that somewhere deep inside the mountain there is an epic salt deposit, but the water does not share its secret as it gurgles quietly from that rock.

Salt deposits can be seen on everything

From Maras, we continued on to another Inca marvel - the terraced crop fields of Moray. This colossal depression, with enormous rings descending downward in a graceful and fluid geometric pattern, may look a lot like an amphitheater. In fact it was an agricultural site used to experiment on various crops. This is where we got a crash course on how the Inca dabbled in bio-engineering and wielded complex knowledge of geology and physics.

Terraces of Moray. It's hard to overstate how huge this formation is.

The rings take advantage of geothermal principles, and the temperature varies from one to another, creating a micro-climate on each step along the way. The Incas "bred" a variety of crops here, crossing various types of vegetables to achieve best results. Did you know that Incas developed over 100 types of potatoes, many of which are not even known in North America?  It's true. They were also first to make the potato edible. It was toxic as a wild plant until the Incas got their hands of it, and bred out the toxins. Pretty impressive for a bunch of "primitive savages".

Each "step" is about 6 feet high and you make your way up and down along these conveniently provided stepping stones.

The Serial Trippers, catching their breath, just before realizing they have to climb back out now.

The rest of the day was spent prowling the small towns of Maras and Urubamba. The settlements in this part of Peru are poor, there's no way around it. Aside from a couple of nice hotels, the valley is peppered with a bunch of one-horse towns where most residents clearly don't reap the benefits of tourists climbing all over their ancestors' achievements. But, despite the low standard of living, these rural Peruvians are all - without fail - friendly and curious and welcoming, easily inviting strangers to peek into their homes, or stopping for a quick hello. There may not be much glamour in these street scenes, but they want for nothing in authenticity and heart.

Inside somebody's kitchen. You can't see them, but there are guinea pigs and kittens running all over the floor.

Photos: Guanajuato and San Miguel

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Ooooooh, Guanajuatoooo!

We are freshly back from Guanajuato, having walked an average of 15,000 steps a day and survived run-ins with "the runs", which of course are a necessary part of the Mexican experience.

What a wonderful little spot! Originally inhabited by the Otomi people in the Mesoamerican period, it became a colonial town in the 1540s after the Spanish discovered silver in the region and began mining and building forts. The city's geography is its most distinguishing characteristic. It sits in a narrow valley, expanding from that bowl up into surrounding hills making many streets wickedly steep and narrow, but also opening up to breathtaking panoramas from higher elevations.

Additionally, there are numerous tunnels running under the city, which were used for water evacuation until they were converted into subterranean streets. Now these imposing, vaulted stone labyrinths carry a large part of the city's traffic, both vehicular and pedestrian.

The city has a strange, rustic beauty. It's festively colorful on the whole, but  also a bit ramshackle and rough around the edges when you start observing at street level, like a fading painting. That dichotomy is what gives Guanajuato its distinctively unique flavor. Despite its beauty, it is nevertheless very difficult to photograph. The light in the area is sharp and bright, covering everything in vivid striations of light and shadow so intense, no camera setting can match it. I privately started thinking of the city as a zebra, and resigned to making good use of HDR.

Guanajuato has been named "patrimonio de la humanidad", or a cultural treasure of humanity. And a treasure it is. It beckons you to explore along its intimate, winding alleys, peek into churches and offbeat museums, and stuff yourself on the cheap with a plethora of regional delicacies. And so we set out so explore this city and its contrasts: light and shadow, valleys and hills, tunnels and funiculars. On our first full day, we began with the Mummy museum. This is kind of a must-see, since it's the most famous museum in Guanajuato (and, at 50 pesos, or 4 dollars - also the most expensive). Now, the story of this museum is really interesting. The mummies were all local residents who died of a cholera epidemic in the 1830s. They were exhumed over the next 100 years when their relatives failed to pay the grave rent.

Yeah. That was pretty much my reaction too. Thousands of graves were disinterred, but about 2% of the bodies came out mummified. There's no official explanation as to why, but let's go with natural causes, such as dry climate. The collection is quite impressive and utterly creepy. The fact that each mummy's information placard is written in first person does nothing to alleviate the creepiness factor. I bet that if the mummies did decide to personally address the gawkers, it wouldn't be with a polite "Hola, me llamo...".

Despite the understandable discomfort of walking through a dark building full of dead people on shelves, it was nevertheless a very informative experience. For one, it was interesting to see the clothes of the time, and what people chose to take with them to the grave. Also, how cause of death affects the body despite mummification. There were mummies of people buried alive, and even a mummy of a fetus whose mother died before childbirth. From a cultural standpoint, it was interesting to consider that in this deeply Catholic culture, where the body is treated reverently and proper burial is very important, a museum like this continues to exist, seemingly at odds with their convictions. Though, to be fair, no more bodies are being exhumed due to payment delinquency.

After the mummy museum we took a 20 minute drive north of Guanajuato to a town of Valenciana, where several former silver mines are open to visitors. Silver was the lifeblood of the region in colonial times, and made the region quite wealthy.

Descending into the Boca Mina, Valenciana

The town is now very small and sleepy, and only its church - The Church that Silver Built - speaks to its former wealth and status. One other remaining attraction in Valenciana is the Purgatory museum, a small, slightly tacky collection of exhibits on torture and other means of instilling the Holy Faith during the Inquisition. Somehow the guides, dressed as Inquisitors, manage to keep the mood light and the crowds laughing, even as they explain how people used to be raked and quartered in the name of Jesus.

"Are you a good Catholic?!"

Our favorite exhibit - the chastity belt. 

After getting back to Guanajuato, we prowled the streets for a few hours, taking in the sights like the beautiful Plaza de la Paz, the whitewashed walls of the University, and the shady oasis of the Jardin de la Union, before taking the funicular to El Pipila, a panoramic point high above the city with the most spectacular view.

Inspired by such awesome vistas, we went searching for Clave Azul, a taverna that our friends insisted we must try for the best food and drink in town. We found it, after a lengthy search, halfway up an invisible alley shooting off a small square. Unfortunately, for reasons we couldn't figure out due to our abominable Spanish, they weren't serving food, but we did stay for some yummy drinks, and enjoyed watching a large family at a table next to us celebrate something with stories and songs as two musicians serenaded them with their guitars. It's clearly a gem of a place.

Digging the vibe at Clave Azul

Day 2, we set out bright and early to conquer yet another mountain, Cierro del Cubilete, to see the Cristo Rey monument, one of the largest statues of Jesus in the world. This 20 meter bronze Jesus supposedly sits in the very geographical center of Mexico, and as such, is an important pilgrimage site for Mexicans, as evidenced by the neverending stream of buses going up and down the mountain like ants on an anthill. We weren't there to pay homage, but we did enjoy the view and got to see some of the odder practices, like people crawling the 50 meter long stone-paved approach to the chapel on their knees. Ouch?

Back in Guanajuato, we visited Alhondiga de Granaditas, a former public granary now serving as a large regional history museum. The building itself is one of the most recognizable in the city, and has served as a granary, a prison, military barracks, performance venue, and warehouse throughout its lifetime. It's a World Heritage building and part of the city's historic center.

Inside, the most striking feature are the monumental murals decorating some of its halls with scenes from Mexico's history painted by José Chávez Morado. They are so huge and breathtaking that it will take a few minutes to wander under them and try to decipher the story as it unfolds - larger than life - over your head.

Perhaps the most infamous part of the building's history is that it was stormed by insurgents during the Mexican War of Independence, and the four leaders of the rebellion were captured and beheaded, their heads hung from the four corners of the building in cages, as a deterrent to other would be rebels. The heads hung around for 10 years, until Mexico won its Independence. The caged severed head is a pretty prominent artistic symbol not only inside the museum walls, but throughout the city.

Guanajuato is stuffed to the brim with little museums that explore the life of a person or a single literary theme, almost like specialized galleries. Some of Guanajuato's lesser known museums we saved for the afternoon. The first is the Iconographic Museum of Don Quixote. This one was one of my favorites. Quixote is obviously a well loved figure in the area, his lanky figure looking out laconically from every souvenir shop. The Iconographic museum is a vast collection of imagery connected with Don Quixote, executed in a variety of media and methods, from traditional sculpture to surrealism to full blown abstract art. Just like the story of Quixote, the museum has that same trippy, surreal quality, but all the works are of really high caliber, and visiting is enjoyable even if you're not a particularly big fan of the book.

My favorite painting from the Don Quixote museum

Another little gem is the Museo Casa de Diego Rivera. Rivera is, of course, one of the most famous - if not THE most famous Mexican artist, husband of Frida Kahlo, a prominent political figure, and an overall fascinating character. His museum is located in the house where he was born, with the first floor preserved as it would have been furnished at the time of his birth. The upper floors house an impressive collection of his early works.

After such jampacked couple of days, we decided to take it easy and drive out to San Miguel de Allende. Although only an hour's drive from Guanajuato, San Miguel is a whole different world. Whereas Guanajuato is energetic, lived-in and diverse in its offerings, San Miguel feels boutique-y. It's stately, orderly, homogenous, freshly painted, and has an aura of money about it. Real estate signs are under the names of Sotheby's and Christies; shopping is plentiful and upscale, and tourists are much more numerous than in Guanajuato. Whereas in the former, we only heard English spoken on the street 2 or 3 times, in San Miguel it was as common as on the streets of Cancun, though, obviously, it was a different crowd.

Street scene, San Miguel de Allende

I found it to be so charming. With all of its buildings painted in the same warm yellows, reds and oranges, and pots bursting with flowers along every roof line and windowsill, this town just pulls you in and invites you to take a breather in one of its quirky bars and restaurants, or have a coffee in a magnificent shaded courtyard.

courtyards like this one can be found everywhere, and usually contain a row of galleries and cafes, although I think this one is residential.

We didn't have any specific plans, and by then we were all museumed out, so we just strolled the streets, perused the local wares and indulged our coffee addiction at the most upscale Starbucks I've ever visited. Every intersection and every facade in this city just beckons to be photographed.

The Main Plaza and park, San Miguel de Allende

On our final full day, we embraced the chance to go on one last adventure, and ventured out to Cañada de la Virgen (Canyon of the Virgin) to take a tour of a pyramid site constructed by the Otomi people. Our guide was professor Albert Coffee with Coyote Canyon Adventures - an expat American archeologist, who is lovingly known among his Trip Advisor fans as "the Real Indiana Jones"

This amazing site has only recently been excavated, and opened to the public about a year and a half ago. It actually sits in the middle of private land owned by a very wealthy old German lady (from the Krupp family), who bought thousands of acres of land and apparently practices Mayan shamanism and feng shui. The Mexican government eventually told her she can't own the pyramids, so now there's carefully monitored access to the site. Because you have to approach the pyramid through her private property, you have to do it by her rules, and she doesn't allow cars. So the shuttle takes visitors to a site about a mile away from the pyramids, and from there - everybody walks!

Glad it's not summer!

The site itself consists of several complexes, all mirroring the surrounding the landscape. The structures were used as observatories and burial grounds for the elite. The complex follows the lunar calendar, and during certain dates, celestial alignments interact with the pyramids with incredible precision.

During the 2 hours we spent on site we got an intensive crash course in Mesoamerican cultures of pre-Columbian times; their rituals, beliefs and practices. It's pretty amazing to think that these structures stood covered in earth and grass until only a few years ago, and local cowboys would ride up these "mounds" to look for stray cattle. It makes you wonder how many mysteries and treasures are still buried throughout Mexico and Central America, hiding just beneath our feet.

In the afternoon, we returned to San Miguel to spend a few more hours wandering its enchanted streets and discovering the little details of its identity.

 

 

And then, just like that, it was time to head home.

I'm really glad that we chose to visit this spot on the globe. This is the Mexico that I wanted to see, not the beaches, cabanas, and parties, not Cancun and not Senor Frog's. Though we loved our trip to Cozumel last year, we never once saw a peso during our entire stay, and all our needs were met in English. This time, we found ourselves having to make do with nearly nonexistent Spanish everywhere we went, and we surprised ourselves by how fairly competent we were at communicating with the locals. 

Mexico generally has a pretty bad rap around here, particularly in the border states. The first things that come to mind are illegal immigration, drug war and corrupt government. Sometimes you have to travel to a place to remember that people still happily live there, take day trips, play music in bars, enjoy cigars over mezcal, and kiss on the streets (a lot). And when we stumbled over a whole crowd sitting on the steps of an alley, singing in unison and swaying to the music, I just had to stop and listen for a while, because that kind of collective happiness is rarely found in the US.

Of course, not everything was cotton candy and piñadas. Some things made me angry. The out of control population boom, for example. I have never seen so many kids in one place in my entire life. And, when I walked into any church throughout the trip, I would inevitably see a wall sized placard decrying abortion, contraception, or both. It definitely set me to seething a little bit, especially when I couldn't set foot outside without stepping on a toddler or 5. Refusal to confront family planning by a national authority such as the Catholic church is something I don't expect to see anywhere but the most desperate places, so that obviously irked me in Mexico. But - that is why we travel, after all. To see the good and the bad, and hopefully think more carefully about these issues going forward, hopefully learn something.

Until next time, happy tripping.

Maiden Voyage!

Hooray! My very first post. It's a little strange starting a story from the middle. I've been traveling for so long and have been to so many places that is seems like a random time to begin blogging about it now. I think that's mostly what's kept me from starting a travel blog - I felt like I should have started years ago. I remember I used to keep travel journals in the days before the Internet, remember, for example, writing in a notebook from atop a cliff in a remote part of the Cinque Terre in Italy, back in 1999, and how great it was to open that notebook for years afterwards. For some reason, after the advent of modern technology, I stopped documenting my journeys, other than through photos, and it's always bugged me, because I really want to preserve memories of the places I've visited.

So, I decided - better late than never. Inspired by some great traveling peeps who maintain a robust online presence, I'm going to start this blog now, and keep a record going forward. Heck, I'll even recount some of our past trips.

Happy trails,

Elena