Sharing our Traveler's Diarya

Sunday, March 13

I thought we’d never make it out of Bolivia. As an anxiety-ridden pessimist, I was certain the Bolivian government or Argentinian airlines would find something wrong with our paperwork and prevent us from leaving.

When we woke up at 6am, the plan was to get an Uber at 7am. Karen recommended we leave a little earlier, if possible. I crammed my things into my bag. I cursed and prayed to all the gods as is my bag-packing ritual and lo, we made it out of the apartment before 7. Something screwy was happening with the Ubers where they would pretend to not see us and then cancel our trip, causing us to have to rebook and adding delays. Two literally drive right by without glancing at the sidewalk where we were standing. Finally we got a ride and got to the airport at 7:30am. Karen had to check her bag and the line to do so was a mile long. We were supposed to start boarding in 1 hour. We should’ve left more time.

After about 15 minutes Karen sent me and Carl ahead because she couldn’t stand my nervous energy. It was for the best because then we could scout out the security lineS and the immigration checkpoint. There was a group of four foreigners going to Sao Paolo that were behind us in line while their flight was due to take off in 10 minutes. We offered for them to go ahead but then an agent made them go to the back of the line. We watched them struggle with the Bolivian bureaucracy…but they made it through. Not sure if they made the flight though.

We met a Bolivian man in line and spoke to him for a bit. I asked him what fee the four foreigners had to get out of line to go pay. He said he wasn’t sure. He asked us where we were from. We said US. With a chuckle and a smile he said we’d probably have to pay the fee too. We all laughed together but amazingly, no fee for us.

Finally we made it through and our plane was boarding soon. I got Karen an iced latte and croissant- more as a prayer that she’d make it through to be able to eat it. Finally she came running through the duty free shop and we hugged like we were reunited after many years. We went and boarded the plane, just in time as our group was being called.

When we got to Argentina I fretted over all the ways they would find to send us back: our birthdate wasn’t on the COVID test results, our insurance didn’t specifically say COVID, etc. But the migration guy was nice, and chill. He asked for our documents, gave a look, and gave us our prized passport entry stamp.

We had arranged to get a ride through a friend of the guy hosting us on Airbnb. He was very nice and spoke near perfect English. He gave us a few tips for the city before dropping us off at our Airbnb in Palermo, where the host met us. The host, Marcos, showed us around the apartment and also offered tips on how to exchange money (and later, where to get COVID tests).

Tired from a day of travel, we went to a nearby restaurant for linner and then back to the apartment. For linner we went to La Colorada, which is inside a beautiful two story building with huge skylights and bright red painted walls. We got the house special, a steak with lots of sides.

For drinks Carl ordered a bottle of beer and I ordered a glass of wine (so I thought). When the waitress brought our drinks we saw the beer bottle was an extra large size and the glass of wine was a bottle of wine. The prices on the menu had thrown us off. For example the bottle of red wine was 385 pesos (about $3.85 dollars with official exchange rate or $2 with the unofficial exchange rate). I asked for just a glass of red and she said they didn’t even sell that amount at the restaurant. So we decided to share the big bottle of beer (which was still only a couple dollars). Every meal after that we made sure to get a bottle of wine, reasoning that we would be losing money if we didn’t!

We opted to share a brownie for desert but the waitress told us they were all out. So we got the chocolate mousse and like a first-day-in-a-new-city-miracle it was one of the best desserts of our lives. We savored the fluffy chocolateness and talked about it for days after.

Monday, March 14

We took advantage of our unplanned week in the city and slept in really late before deciding how we wanted to spend our time.

The only thing we HAD to do was exchange our US dollars to Argentinian pesos at a favorable exchange rate. The official rate fluctuates around $100 pesos to a dollar but the unofficial rate (Blue Dollar) is at about $200 pesos to a dollar, because of the huge demand for a stable currency like the US dollar. We walked to the nearest western union and were able to exchange our US dollars (which we had already from when Bolivia wouldn’t take them for our Bolivian visa- thanks guys!!). We got 195 pesos to the dollar- not bad! After this trip though, we’d have several trips to western union (endearingly we called Club WU) where the fees made the rate worse (closer to 175), or they didn’t have enough money for us to take out that day.

We strolled to a nearby cafe, called Tilo, to get some coffee and food before doing any activities. We shared an empanada and the daily special which came with pork chops, fries, fruit salad, coffee, and -a glass of wine!
By the time we were done with ‘breakfast’ it was already after noon.

We decided to walk to the water – a good activity for getting bearings in any city. The walk took us through several large parks and over a major highway. When we got to the water, we were unimpressed. The water itself was a deep muddy brown, and there was not much for pier infrastructure.

Feeling a little disappointed, Karen took an Uber back to the apartment and Carl and I walked north along the water to a park called the Parque de la Memoria, a monument to victims of state-sponsored terrorism. The park was huge and had many nice, symbolic statues and signs. I was too tired to read all the Spanish descriptions and vowed to do some online research about it later.

We ended the day with a visit to a nearby brewery, La Estrella Federal. The IPAs were very good. We also split a burrata salad and a burger, which were tasty.

Tuesday, March 15

On this day we found Dos Escudos café which would probably be rated as our favorite of the area. Karen and I awkwardly ordered (pointing to tasty looking pastries in the window, pointing to outside where we wanted to sit) and got a couple pastries and some coffees to go. Carl met us after a successful trip to Club WU.

We got a taxi over to the neighborhood called La Boca. This area has a famous soccer stadium and a street called El Caminito which is famous for being colorfully painted, corrugated iron shacks reminiscent of the houses where immigrants lived in previous decades. In modern times, artists, performers and street vendors have taken the opportunity of the tourist-attracting bright colors to perform and sell crafts. As we walked along the market street, one man offered both- he gave us an art print he had drawn and then asked us to watch as he ‘turned’ our names written on the card into a picture of a couple tango dancing. He said he had been on Jay Leno and painted a picture with his feet while dancing tango.

We looked at the shops, and then the famous El Caminito street. At the corner where the market street meets El Caminito we stopped at a place that offered a deal on choripán and beer. Choripán is like a South American hot dog where chorizo (chori) is out between two pieces of bread (pan) with some combo of greens and spices. This place had a grill out front and we could smell the chorizo from blocks away. The sandwich was honestly one of the best sandwiches of my life. It was a little on the spicy side so I was happy to have a big (cheap!) glass of beer to wash it down.

After walking for a bit more we decided to sit down at a touristy cafe to watch some tango dancers. The performances at the cafe switched between a woman singing and a couple dancing on the tiniest little stage. The tango dancers were so talented and I sat there- jaw dropping in amazement and awe at their skill and beauty.

Wednesday, March 16

We went back to Dos Escudos for breakfast and this time sat outside and ordered the correct way. For about $3 each we got a pastry or sandwich and a coffee.

We took a taxi over to the Recoleta neighborhood to check out the famous cemetery. As a Halloween lover and Tim Burton fan since childhood I already get weirdly excited about cemeteries and their macabre decorations. This cemetery would have been astoundingly beautiful and fascinating to someone who thinks Christmas is the best holiday and so for me was near equivalent to a trip to Disneyland.

I wanted to get a tour but the timing didn’t work out so Carl did some googling and pinned the main tombs for us to see. He lead us around the cemetery to the different sites, occasionally switching to his creepy, deep tone voice to convey the spookiness of his tale.

The cemetery was designed to look like a little city for the dead with thousands of mausoleums organized along a grid of street-like paths. The cemetery was built in 1822 but became a popular place for the rich to bury their dead toward the end of the 19th century, when Argentina was a rising star in the global economy. Because of this timing, much of the architecture is Art Nouveau in addition to the typical cemetery architecture style of Neoclassical. There are several famous people entombed here, including Eva (Evita) Perón, the former First Lady of Argentina.

We strolled around and admired the mausoleums and tombs. It was a beautiful, hot day with clear blue skies which made it hard to get into a creepy, pensive mood. We still managed to get a shiver when we peeked into en open mausoleum and saw a gray-tinged, decaying piece of lace strewn over an unreasonably small coffin.

We took a break at La Biela, known for being the oldest cafe in Buenos Aires. We sat outside but the inside decor was all old wood, reminding me of old cafes in New York City. I decided to get a champagne with strawberry purée in the bottom and I did not regret it. Nicely dressed older women gossiped at tables next to us as I leaned back, sipped my champagne, and spied on them from behind by oversized sunglasses, feeling like an evil character from a telenovela.

From here we walked to the Bella Artes museum which had a random collection of art from the 16th century to modern art, from Europe and Argentina. Then we walked to the famous steel flower statue to take pictures before diving into the Recoleta neighborhood to explore. We crossed the neighborhood in search of a famous bookstore called, El Ateneo Grand Splendid. The building used to be an opera house and they did well to restore it and keep it maintained so that when you walk in you feel like you are about to see a show but then the stage is bookstore cafe.

When Carl and I got back to the Airbnb, Karen and I self indulged and got a manicure pedicure but we had to go to two different shops because of the timing. Explaining what we wanted in Spanish was good practice for me, and Karen couldn’t stop laughing at my cluelessness of being in a nail salon.

For dinner we walked from our Airbnb to Las Cholas and sat outside, enjoying the mild temperature and swatting away all the pesky mosquitoes. Carl and I shared a Milanesa, a flank steak that’s been pounded flat and breaded like chicken, and the Brochette Mixta, two shishkebabs of pork and beef.

When we got back to our Airbnb we finished watching the show, Lupin, about gentlemen burglar in Paris which I highly recommend.

Thursday, March 17

We celebrated Paddy’s Day with a good sleep in. We decided to branch away from Dos Escudos for breakfast, crossing the street to the gluten free restaurant, Eggs and Greens, that we were willing to give a try. Carl and I shared avocado toast and a dish called cloud eggs where they whipped the egg whites into a hardened nest and pillowed the yoke into the middle. It was more weird than tasty, but a fun experience overall.

Carl and I tested riding the metro into downtown. When we walked down the stairs underground we didn’t see anywhere to buy a new metro card. There was no one working at the booth but there was an attendant watching the turnstiles and she just told us to go through. Later we looked and the price for a ticket was about 20 cents so we didn’t save that much by sneaking in.

We rode down to the downtown and got off at La Catedral stop. When we emerged from underground we were surrounded by beautiful high rises very reminiscent of Manhattan’s city hall area.

We walked to the ‘pink building’ a government building that is the office of the President. In the Plaza de Mayo there was an area around a statue where people had put rocks and stones with names on them memorializing people that had passed away from COVID. There were a lot of rocks. Next we walked up to the capital building which looked like the US capital but as if someone had pulled up on the dome, stretching the whole building vertically. There were fences around the capital building and the streets leading to it were completely closed to cars. We realized that there was some sort of protest going on and got a sense of nostalgia for our previous home in DC as we walked past the street barriers to take pictures of the capital behind the high fences.

Taking the long way around to avoid the protestors (generally not a good activity for foreign tourists!) we walked to the city’s obelisk. It was shorter and a little more squat than DC’s.

We crossed the neighborhood and headed to the waterfront to check out a brewery. On the way we spotted an artesanal ice cream shop and had to stop. Carl got marcapone with forest berry next to Maracuya (passion fruit) mouse. I got coconut with Havana chocolate and it came with a alfhambra cookie. We savored the ice cream and even more so the air conditioning.

Then we made it to the waterfront and checked out the Puente de Mujeres (women’s bridge). Finally landed at Temple brewing (later learned it’s a local chain) and got two IPAs and a blue cheese empanada which was a gamble that paid off very well.

We decided to head back to Palermo to enjoy Paddy’s day dinner and drinks with Karen. It took nearly an hour looking for a taxi/Uber before we finally got one and it was thrice as expensive as earlier rides. Good reminder to not take taxis during rush hour!

With Karen we went to Palermo Hollywood, a neighborhood adjacent to Palermo $$$ where we were staying. The Irish bar, Slainte, looked packed so we went up the street to another bar for dinner. They had pizza by the slice and Carl ordered the ‘german’ style which came with sausage. The pizza was the weirdest food of my life. It was like naan bread with cheese wiz sauce and barbecue sauce thrown on top, sprinkled with three tiny sausage slices. Carl said it reminded him of the pizza he tried to make in the microwave when he was little and literally just dumped sauce and cheese on top of bread.

Feeling full of weird gross food we headed back to Slainte and pushed our way inside. They had some kind of weird bar ordering system and it seemed like I had to pay first to get a ticket before getting the beers but I didn’t understand this so the bartender handed me two cans of Guinness (because why would the Irish bar have Guinness on tap?) and pointed to the man at the cash register. He was working an ancient cash register with the handle on the side and it looked like he was arguing with about four customers over a bill. I waited for a long time, getting shoved left, right, up and down as people pushed past me to the bar and to the bathroom. Finally I gave up and we went to sit outside, reasoning we’d pay when we ordered again next.

We sat outside on a bench leaning against the building and ended up talking to a couple(?) but they may have been on their very first tinder date. The woman was born in Argentina but grew up her whole life in Australia. She was touring around for many months and she had great travel advice for both South America and Australia. Her date was an older guy from Peru and he had the biggest hunk of coca leaves shoved in the side of his cheek. It was so big that it affected his speech and the smell wafted off of him, impressive considering we were outside and surrounded by people drunk on beer. He was a little weird so when they offered to bar hop with us to the next bar we said we’d meet them there.

We eventually found Karen again in the crowd and were happy she had met some fellow Irish- even a guy wearing a Mayo jersey.

Friday, March 18

Marcel, our travel agent from Colombia, had sent me a list of recommendations for Argentina (he couldn’t help himself!) and on the list was a day trip to the El Tigre delta and town. He mentioned there was kayaking and Karen loves kayaking so I explored options and booked us an overpriced kayaking tour for the afternoon.

Tigre is north and updelta from Buenos Aires. The area is known as a natural getaway for city dwellers and there are many fancy guesthouses and hotels in the delta that are only reachable by boat.

To get out there we took an above ground commuter train. There was a station within walking distance of our Airbnb and the ticket price to the end of the line was 74 pesos round trip, about 74 cents with the official exchange rate.

Of course the weather had been perfect clear sunny skies, mid 70s all week- except the day we go kayaking. It rained all morning and it was colllllllld. The rain was supposed to stop at 11am, about the time we got to Tigre, so we continued with our plans. When we got to Tigre it seemed to be raining even harder. We ducked into a cafe called Boston Pizza and Carl ordered a coffee and sandwich so we could ‘pay our rent’ to sit inside and use their WiFi. We decided to cancel kayaking and just walk around the town.

We walked over to the artsy market area, but most of the stalls were closed. We decided to get some food at a place called Sweet Pepper thinking it might have vegetarian options. Of course it was a burger place but they did have veggie burgers. Carl and I split the house burger and it was so good. It might have been the best burger of my life.

Afterward we walked to the art museum, just to look at the pretty building from the outside. We were impressed with how high the delta water was. Every boat that went by created a wake that splashed over the banks and into the promenade. Many streets were flooded and we had to choose our path carefully and pray cars would slow down when they drove by through the ponds. The art museum had a beautiful, old terrace that we ogled at and took photos of.

We walked back to the train station and took the train back to the city.

For dinner that night Carl and I went to a steak place called Don Julio’s which is on lists of 50 best restaurants in the world. We didn’t have a reservation but had read that they gave out free champagne while you wait so we thought we might as well get some free bubbly out of it. They opened at 7pm and we arrived just afterwards and put our name on the list. She said she might be able to fit us in at 8:30. So we got some champagne and waited. It was cold outside and my one nice dress was not warm enough but we secured a nice park bench to sit while we waited. At almost exactly 8:30 a man came out to get us and – gloriously – led us to the warm inside tables.

They started us off with a teeny beef empanada that was amazing. We got some red wine, of course, and split a charcuterie appetizer, a steak, and sides of mashed potatoes, smoked eggplant, and arugula salad. Every year Carl and I celebrate the date we had our first fancy meal together in New York and we call it our steakiversary. We decided this meal was steakiversary 2022, and one for the books.

I was hoping they’d have tiramisu for desert but they didn’t so I said we would just have some coffee. Well the waiter brought us desert anyways! He brought out flan with a side of dulce de leche and a side of homemade coconut cream.

Saturday, March 19

We had a slow start to our day, Carl and I could feel the red meat, wine, and champagne from the night before and Karen was preoccupied with booking travel plans for Central America. We also got unlucky with Club WU and they had run out of cash for us to withdraw/exchange which was a bummer. We eventually made it to a cafe for breakfast and got another good deal on coffee and breakfast pastries/sandwiches.

From the cafe we walked toward the botanical garden. We happened upon the Ecoparque so we went in there first. A lot of the areas were closed but there was still many animals roaming about. We saw tons of peacocks and Patagonian Mara (https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Patagonian_mara) which looked like kangaroo deer rabbits. We didn’t see a Tapir this time but we did see a capybara, face deep in a bowl, munching away on some lunch. We later read that the city of Buenos Aires recently closed their historic zoo, released thousands of animals into the wild, and transformed the park into something better for animals and more interactive for people (hence the construction).

After the ecoparque we meandered over to the botanical garden and strolled around for a while. The gardens were pretty but we were all a little tired from the activities the day before so we headed back to Palermo.

We decided to get linner at La Colorada again because we couldn’t stop thinking about the chocolate mouse from the first night. I got s pink sauce pasta that was actually better than I expected and Carl got a rack of ribs and of course, wine!

Friday, March 11

Our driver, José Luis, and our guide, Iver, showed up a few minutes late to pick us up from our Airbnb. We drove southwest out of the city toward Samaipata, taking winding and crumbling roads through the Amazon to the base of the Andes. On the way Iver had us stop at a roadside stand to get some coca leaves which he flavored with sodium bicarbonate (lime for added potency), Nescafé powder, and Maracuya (passion fruit) flavored stevia. He showed us how to mash the coca and powder together using plastic mats and a wooden mallet.

Back in the car for a long drive. Iver told us about Santa Cruz: the culture, the geography, the indigenous people, the politics, etc. We quickly realized he was more on the conspiracy theorist side of the spectrum, especially concerning the government’s handling of COVID. He spoke about how the people and government of La Paz thought that they and their Inca ancestors were superior to the people of Santa Cruz and their Amazonian ancestors. I sympathized at first but then the victim theme kept returning across every discussion and it was hard to decipher what were true facts and what was his opinion. Plus, it was bumming me out to hear such negative talk the whole day. We figured it was probably a good change from the overly positive guides in the past- who would color even the worst corruption as a cheeky part of their culture- but it was overdone.

We drove to El Fuente, which translates to the fort and is named because the Spanish used the area as a fort when they took it over. Originally though, the huge sandstone rock was carved into mysterious patterns by the indigenous people that occupied the Amazons ~1500 BCE, before the Incas arrived. The archeological site had the original carved rock, the building foundations/ruins from the Incans, and the old foundations from the Spanish settlement. Iver told us that UNESCO had offered a grant to build something over the carved rock to protect it since, being sandstone, it continues to erode and weather away, losing a little bit of the history each day. Iver said the Bolivian government chose to use the money to protect Incan structures rather than this Amazonian rock. It was strange that many of the explanation signs spoke about how the Incan priests used the rock, after finding it, rather than conjecturing what the original inhabitants had created it for. Again, it was hard to suss out what was fact from fiction and at one point Iver told us not to read the signs because they lied.

To his credit, he told us stories about how he grew up in the area and how when he was little he and his friends would climb up the other side of the hill to see the rock while avoiding paying the park entrance fee. He pointed to one spot and said, wistfully, “there used to be a beautiful fruit tree right here”. Comments like this made me realize his guiding style was more like an estranged uncle who shows you around his childhood hometown rather than a professional tour guide.

Iver gave us the option of seeing more Incan ruins (which he didn’t sell very well) or to leave early. So we left early, walking on the other side of the big carved rock before walking back down the hill to the car. From here we drove to the town of Samaipata. This town is known in the area as being a ‘hippie’ or ‘backpackers’ town and full of artists and new age religious people. As we drove in we saw a man that looked exactly like John Muir emerge from a trail and waive down a moto taxi. Besides Muir, we saw few other tourists and the town seemed sleepy and shuttered, perhaps because it was still a weekday.

We went to a little restaurant for lunch and Iver seemed to know the owner. Iver advised us to order the pepper steak which came with a berry reduction sauce. The steak was overdone but we smiled and nodded when the owner came over to ask us how it was. I ordered the catfish stew and it was in a weird curry like sauce, but surprisingly good. Iver got his food to go (explaining he had a big breakfast) so he just sat there quietly watching us and the driver eat our lunch. The restaurant was playing classical music covers of pop songs and with the leftover carsickness, awkward social interactions and elevator music I practically fell asleep in my soup.

Back in the car I slept so hard despite the rough bumpy and windy roads. We finally pulled up to the waterfalls. It was less than a ten minute walk to a small waterfall and a minute more to the main one. The falls were pretty, and it was nice pretending that we were back in the Amazon one last time.

The drive back to Santa Cruz was quiet again, no talking, no music. I listened to my audiobook the whole way. We definitely overpaid for this day trip and we mildly regretted paying anything at all for it. But, it had been a rainy, gray day so we were happy we had something to do besides sit at the Airbnb and look out into the pool.

Saturday, March 12

To our delight we got the same guide, Iver, again but a new driver. Now that we understood Iver we knew how to converse with him and we actually talked passionately about flood control for a bit which was nice. The drive was also going to be much shorter, so we were ready with our positive attitudes.

They kindly took us first to a COVID testing center to get tests for our flight to Argentina the next day. The woman administering the test was a bit rude, yelling “VUELO???” (flight) at me after she said something very quickly and I asked her to repeat it slower. I reasoned that every time this happens to me it is the tiniest bit of payback for every time a non-English speaker is unfairly treated badly or yelled at in the US. I told her “¡SI!” and then she poked my brain with a q-tip before sending me out and calling Carl in. As I left I heard her yell at him and he yelled back at her “¡MAÑANA!” (tomorrow) in case she was asking when the flight was.

While I waited for Carl I remarked to Iver that I hated the feeling of getting tested up the nose like that, and this was my third test on our trip. He said he had never gotten a test and didn’t believe in them. He was starting to say that he thinks COVID testing is just the beginning of increasing government control across the world when Carl came out from his test and I said a tiny thank you to the universe for saving me from that conversation. Turns out Americans aren’t the only crazies.

Then we drove to the Lomos de Arena (sand hills) park. On the way into the park we pulled over and Iver picked us a fruit off a cactus. It was called Tuna—. We opened it with a knife and scraped out the fleshy insides. The inside was a white fleshy meat but crisp, with little black seeds. Like a kiwi but not sweet. Refreshing!

We drove around and took some pictures before trying out some sand boarding. It was difficult at first but we got the hang of it and could ride to the bottom without falling. I still looked like a loser with my butt all the way out but Carl was gliding down in style.

We stopped by a lagoon that had formed naturally from rainwater. This had been advertised as a stop on the tour where we could put our swimsuits on and go for a swim. The temperature was unseasonably cool and the sky was so cloudy and dark that the last thing I wanted to do was change and put my near naked body in some pond water. But Carl, ever for not wanting to miss an experience, changed and waded in. He said it was colder than he expected. As he waded out toward the middle, toward some vegetation, Iver said “stay away from the middle where the plants are because there are alligators and snakes”. Carl gave a look like ‘well eff me’ and eased his way back toward the Sandy shore.

We went tramping through some bushes looking for sloths but we didn’t see any. To Iver’s credit, he looked very hard to try to find a sloth for us and he even gave me a piggyback ride across the river at one point so I didn’t have to take off my shoes to cross.

He and the driver also pulled all their strings to figure out how we could buy tickets to the fútbol game that night. We ended up just driving to the stadium and asking and deciding to chance coming back later just before the game. Then we drove back to the COVID testing site because of course the message they sent us didn’t have our test results displayed. The guy at the counter seemed unconcerned that the text with link hadn’t worked at all and he just nonchalantly printed out our results and gave them to us in an envelope, as if that was the plan all along.

We said goodbye to Iver and our driver and hurried back over to the stadium. The game was a match between two teams local to Santa Cruz: Blooming (light blue jerseys) and Oriente Petrolero (green). We weren’t sure who to root for. We wore neutral colors and decided we would cheer for whoever seemed to be the underdog or whichever team’s fans were surrounding us. Upon arriving, we approached the stadium from a different side and were presented with cheaper ticket options but we didn’t know the difference. Turns out the cheaper tickets were for cement stadium seating (different than the plastic seats) and we were deeply in blue Blooming territory. Given the cheaper seats we reasoned they must be the underdog so we were happy to sit amongst them.

We got a cheap ($1.25) burger outside the stadium reasoning we would spend the last of our Bobs on beer inside the stadium. We were surprised to find there was NO beer, only water and sodas. We later read that the fans of the two teams had a reputation for being violently passionate and that riot police were deployed to mitigate any uprisings. Then it made sense why there was no alcohol to fuel the already energetic fans. We opted to get some meatloaf patties?, the driest yucca fries we’ve ever had, and a very (necessary) refreshing cup of Coca Cola.

The fans on both sides were so passionate and were signing and yelling and dancing for over an hour before the game even started. Finally, as the players came out, the fans stretched blue banners all the way to the top of the stadium and threw scraps of paper into the air. Our side had a band, many shirtless men, and then-fireworks!

Blooming somehow scored a goal early in the game and then were forever on defense. Toward the end of the game, green scored and spirits around us plummeted. With just a few minutes left our team somehow gained control of the ball and fired on the goal- missing it by a hand length. But before I could start filming again they somehow scored, right before the time ran out, bringing the final score to Blooming 2; Oriente Petrolero 1. The Blooming fans were SO happy – even Carl took his shirt off and swung it around his head. Everyone sang in unison, fans climbed up the fence, and there were more fireworks! It was so much fun to be in the middle of the chaotic celebration.

We walked with the crowds back through the center of town. Eventually the fútbol crowds transitioned into the clubbing crowds and we admired how nicely all the cute young people were dressed. We walked by a Santa Cruz Brewery location. We had been to an SBC in the trendy, outer neighborhood but this downtown location was only open on weekends, we didn’t know why. When we got in, we realized why. It wasn’t a brewery- it was a club. Just like the Chapultepec cervecería had tricked us, we realized that brewery was a misnomer. They did make their own beer but the place was nothing like a mountain town brewery in the US. It was a night club with a DJ blaring music, disc lights flashing and smoke machines in each corner.

We didn’t have a reservation (obvi) so they put us at a table directly next to the men’s bathroom. Lovely. We sipped our IPAs and people watched all the nicely dressed club-goers. A woman in a nice dress with the word Uyuni on the belt came over and offered us two free Uyuni beers (one with salt!) if we took a picture with her and the beers. We had wanted to try the salty Uyuni beer anyways so we were thrilled at the opportunity for a free one. Of course we accepted so hopefully we are on a Uyuni ad someday.

A Tapir peed on us. But I’ll get to that…

Tuesday, March 8

From Uyuni we had to take the night bus up to La Paz. We got to La Paz early on Tuesday morning and headed straight to the airport. We spent many hours in the airport, eating overpriced food and stretching the WiFi to its limits with our photo uploads. Finally, it was time for our flight to Santa Cruz, Bolivia. For some reason the gate was in the international section and when we walked into this part of the airport, we were literally the only ones there. We found seats to lay on and I fell asleep. When I woke up the seats around our gate were full. We were pleased to see some women in the traditional indigenous outfit of puffy skirts and tiny bowler hats. Several people had big plastic rice or sugar bags as their carry-ons. It was an uneventful flight and we landed while it was still light outside. I asked our Uber driver where to get local food and he recommended Casa de Camba, which serves food traditional to the indigenous peoples of the rainforest around Santa Cruz.

We got to the Airbnb and collected ourselves before going out to eat. Luckily enough, the Casa de Camba restaurant was right down the street from our Airbnb so we could walk to it. They offered me a free glass of wine to celebrate International Women’s Day. Carl and I ordered the traditional ‘buffet’ which was a sampling of hefty portions of different traditional food including a sticky rice with chicken, a drier rice with duck, fried eggs, brisket, and jerked chicken. It was really good and we were so happy our Airbnb had a fridge because we had to take most of it home.

Wednesday, March 9

We slept in and wandered down the primary commercial street near us, Avenue Monseñor Rivero. We found Martinez Cafe (the name of our hometown) so we had to go in. We got cappuccinos and Medialunas (crescent rolls). I ordered a waffle with avocado and salmon thinking it would be like a crepe or something but it was like a cold Eggo waffle with salmon and avo. Weird, but still good. It took forever and a day to get our food and drinks. The fast service is one thing I really miss about the US when I travel.

After breakfast we walked into the center of town. The city of Santa Cruz de La Sierras (full name) is divided into a center circle and an outer circle, before getting into the suburbs and then jungle. Our Airbnb was just on the outer northern edge of the center circle so we walked through to the middle and then to the other side of the circle, to see what the downtown had to offer. In the middle is the church, the Catedral Metropolitana Basílica Menor de San Lorenzo de Santa Cruz. It was very beautiful and had great masonry swirls and designs.

Unfortunately we went at exactly the wrong time, between 12-3pm, when EVERYTHING is closed for siesta hour. It was hot and humid, so I understand the afternoon break time but it’s not so great for us tourists. So, we were not able to climb the church clock tower but we were able to find a place that had fans and cold drinks. We thought it was a brewery but then realized it was a chain restaurant from Mexico, Chapultepec, that is really a taqueria that serves some beers. I got a mojito and Carl got a fernet and coca (cola) that tasted like someone poured bathroom cleaner and dirty water into a cup (he liked it though).

We walked back to the north and then to the northwest to Barrio Equipetrol where the rich people are supposed to hang out. We found Nick’s Travel Agency in a nice looking strip mall/ office park. We spoke with a nice woman named Gladys for a long time and arranged two day tours for the following days.

After we walked back to the fancy street, up to another office park (Gladys mentioned her building was in a Smart Studio, which was also written on this other office park but we didn’t know what that meant). We had to sign in at the front desk but then took an elevator to the 7th floor to a brewery called Santa Cruz Beer Company (SBC). The rooftop was filled with plants, wicker ornaments, and trendy but uncomfortable chairs. Despite seeing many staff and few other customers, we probably waited 30 minutes to order before I finally went to the inside area to flag someone down and order. We got beers that were actually pretty good and mini empanadas that were arguably even better.

We eventually walked back to our Airbnb and had a comforting dinner of leftovers and cheap Bolivian wine before watching Narcos.

Thursday, March 10

Ready for the Tapir story?

We got an Uber to a biopark called Guembe. If you’ve been to Tulum, then you’ll understand that Guembe is the Bolivian version of Xcaret. There are animal exhibits as well as swimming pools and lounge areas. Plus a buffet lunch. We started with the animals and immediately saw monkeys everywhere. Walking by one of the cages we saw black monkeys that were so eager to reach out their hands and tails to touch us. We overheard a guide say one of them was born and raised as a pet and is too used to humans to be returned to the wild.

Then we walked through the turtle area (so many frisky turtles!) to the bird cage. I think all the birds had just been fed. The Green Parrots, Macaws, and other tropical birds were screeching so loudly it was hard to hear anything else. We walked all around and up into a little tree house, marveling at the beautiful colors of the tropical birds. There was one Macaw that had the red, yellow, and blue coloring but the colors blended together to make orange and green and it looked like a rainbow bird.

Then onto the butterfly house. There weren’t as many butterflies as we had seen before (as in Key West) but the exhibit was nicely laid out and we saw big iridescent blue ones and lots of tiny black and red ones. We also saw a new type that flew erratically with very fragile looking wings.

After the butterflies we decided to get some lunch. The park offered a buffet and a snack bar but the snack bar only had hamburgers, a chicken dish, a pork dish, and French fries. When we asked if they could make Karen the vegetarian a cheese sandwich they said no, she’d have to eat at the buffet. Ok then. The buffet was actually good. It had a salad bar, lots of traditional rice dishes, a meat grill, and they even brought out deserts for us!

Bellies full, we decided to check out the pools. We lounged around for a while and took photos with the fake waterfall. Then we tested our kayaking skills which proved to be greater than needed for the sad, small pond that the park offered. It was still fun to get out into the water on a kayak and use our arms a bit chasing each other around.

After we tried out some of the smaller pools, designed to look like natural pools in a river. Some had water slides in between that we couldn’t resist, though we almost got stuck or flew over the side of them.

We’d decided to take a break and go to the bathroom before figuring out what to do next and all of a sudden it started to downpour rain. Our timing was amazing. We changed out of our swimsuits and by the time we were organized the rain had stopped. We sat under an awning and saw everyone in the park had been caught unawares and was drenched.

As our last activity of the day we went looking to see if we could spot the tapir in it’s pen. When we got there it was in the mud, eating leaves toward the right side of the pen. We were able to walk around to get closer to it. It seemed to notice we were there and stopped chewing and meandered up the bank. We couldn’t believe it! It came right up to the fence and licked Carl’s hand. Then it stood there for a bit and let me pet it on the head. It’s neck fur was thick and, not soft, but not too wiry. Kind of wooly.

It started to walk away and we decided to do the same when all of a sudden we saw it turn its butt toward us and -spppppsssshhhh- it peed all over our legs. I was so grateful I had just put my phone away AND that I was wearing shorts. We ran back to one of the pools to rinse off.
When we got home, Carl found a photo online warning of Tapir pee. Now you know, you’ve been warned.

Carl kindly gave me a break and guest wrote this blog. Any complaints? Take it up with him. If you like his writing more than my usual posts, please keep this information to yourself.

Saturday, March 5

We woke up at the Salty House, pleased with the comfy beds and private room, but unhappy with our still wet and salty clothes. Usual breakfast of instant coffee, coca tea, and semi-hard bread with butter/jam (though this time with olive loaf bologna!), then into the 4×4 for the day’s adventure. A German couple who had booked a private car had lost their guide due to a carnival-related hangover, but Oscar kindly wrapped them into our tour family. We headed south towards the Argentine border, first stop the mining town of Villa Alota for bathrooms and snack reloading. We learned a bit about the troubled mining history of Bolivia (Villa Alota was originally a US mine, however the US was politely asked to leave the country following the overthrow of the CIA backed military rule in the 70s, and the mine went into Japanese leadership), and got back on the road.

From here on it was mostly dirt roads, although “roads” might be a stretch, as we often appeared to be making our own tracks, surprising the vicuñas (wild llamas) all throughout the area.

We climbed in elevation as the scenery changed from scrubland to desert, exiting the car every hour or so to stretch our legs and take in the views of the surrounding volcanoes and glacier capped mountains. The first area we got out was filled with volcanic rocks, providing me a playground for climbing, and providing Anni anxiety as I inevitably would climb higher than her comfort levels.

Oscar pointed out some bizarre green mossy plants called la llareta, which are apparently related to coral and harken back to when the desert was still sea floor. They grow very slowly but produce a pine-like resin than can be used to start fires.

In the afternoon we arrived at the salt lake Laguna Colorada for lunch and flamingo ogling. And ogle we did, as these are some weird birds, which make weird noises and look weird whether they are walking or flying.

The rest of the afternoon was overcast, causing temperatures to drop significantly. This made our hourly picture-taking stops less leisurely, but the cloud cover and intermittent hail did add to the apocalyptic scenery we were witnessing. At one point an emu was running next to our car, and at another a Viscacha (imagine a cross between a chinchilla and a rabbit) came to greet us, apparently used to tourist companies proving bread.

As we continued on all plant life disappeared, and the rock formations took on more bizarre shapes due to the high winds. This also meant even better rock climbing, with some incredible views from the tops of these freestanding boulders.

Near the end of the day we reached some geysers, blowing (welcomed) warm air and (unwelcomed) sulfur smells. Oscar guided us through the treacherous mud pits and showed us how the Bolivian government plans to use some of the geysers for renewable energy. We were treated to another amazing sunset as we drove further into the Eduardo Avaroa National Reserve and came to the dorms we would spend the night at.

We had a pasta based dinner with Anton and Line and headed down to the hot springs. We ended up becoming good friends with Anton and Line, sometimes joking that they were the Danish version of Anni and I. We enjoyed the near boiling springs with beers in hand while Oscar pointed out constellations with their Greek and Andean interpretations. The sky was almost completely clear despite the afternoon storms, and the Milky Way was bright. Despite the 16,000 feet elevation, tall Bolivian beers, and dehydrating springs, we all made it back to the dorms and into bed with dreams of all the Andean vistas and wildlife we had seen during the day.

Sunday, March 6

We got up for 7:30am breakfast and headed further into the park. The green and white lagoons were a bit disappointing due to the cloud cover, but spirits were high and we held an impromptu Bolivian dance party at the base of the volcanos. Adelid pulled out his wooden flute and provided us with a sheep-hoof rattle while showing us some dance steps.

On our way out of the park we stopped by the Salvador Dali desert, so named because it supposedly inspired the artist in some of his well known desert scenes. I made an ill advised bet I could run to the far away rocks in 4 minutes, only to find myself the same distance away after 5 minutes of running, though I now appeared as a small dot to our bemused guides.

We stopped at a few more rock outcroppings; one with thin walls named for the Roman colosseum, and another famous for a stone bearing resemblance to Homer Simpson.

We had lunch in a small town sitting along a river, with llamas out to pasture surrounding us. There was a little girl with a pink hat and a teeny white puppy that basically broke Anni’s heart with the overwhelming cuteness. By the afternoon we had exhausted our collective downloaded music libraries and I think everyone took a nap for an hour.

We pulled back into Uyuni around 7, and got dinner with our new friends before they hopped on the night bus back to La Paz. Anni and I shared the next item on the list of typical Bolivian dishes, another mix of steak, rice, and French fries, but this time with a stewed tomato sauce on top. We had decided taking the night bus after the 3 day tour would be too much, so we headed back to the Eucalyptus hotel and slept soundly.

Monday, March 7

In hindsight we should have just taken the aforementioned night bus, as there is nothing to do in Uyuni without the Thursday street market. We busied ourselves by doing laundry and walking around town trying to find the best espresso. The highlight was dinner at one of the many Churrasquerias we’d been eyeing, sharing a big plate of various grilled meats.

We eventually said bye to our endeared caretaker at the Eucalyptus hostel (Karen called him Papa Eucalyptus, or PE) and headed for the bus to La Paz. By the way Eucalyptus was apparently named because Andean miners reminded the Australian founder of koalas…both like to chew leaves (coca in the case of the miners).

Thursday, March 3

We woke up after noon and ventured out into the town to get something to eat. We soon realized that most restaurants were open 8am-12pm and 4-8pm, closed during the day. Well, this left us few options… We ended up at a place that advertised coffee and sandwiches, including vegetarian ones. We tried to order something with chicken and the woman shook her head vigorously. We tried to order a bottle of water and again, like a dog shaking water off it’s coat, she shook her head from side to side. Ok…we ordered three espressos, two paninis, and a side of fries. The food was surprisingly good.

We walked around the little town and walked into a street market. Apparently the market is only on Thursdays so we were lucky to stumble upon it the day we rolled into town. There was stall after stall of clothes, gadgets and food. The market seemed to stretch on forever. Feeling like we were in the old west, we stocked up on supplies for our upcoming journey. Carl got socks and a cowboy hat! We also bought some sugar cane juice with ginger and lime and a weird pastry that was like very sweet pink frosting between two salty biscuit pieces, covered in coconut flakes. We wandered back to the hostel and spent some time blogging and trip planning before going out to dinner.

For dinner we went to a touristy place that advertised Bolivian food. We split a big ol’ Bolivian beer and the Lomo Saltado, a pile of rice and fries with steak and fried eggs on top. That night we stayed up late figuring out where we should go after Uyuni…

Friday, March 4

I’m fortunate enough that in my 32 years I’ve had several days that were so great, I wish I could live them all over again, moment by moment. When we woke up we speculated the day would be great. We didn’t realize it WOULD be one of those ‘try to capture each moment in your mind to relive forever’ days.

Our hostel, Eucalyptus hostel, served the best hostel breakfast we’ve had in a while. The fruit juice was freshly squeezed and they scrambled the eggs just right. Also the bread was fresh and good!

At 10:30am our guide, Oscar, and driver, Adalid (Add-Uh-Leed) showed up. Right away Oscar was so full of energy and enthusiasm, it really seemed like he had to be on drugs to be that ecstatic. Every time we stopped he would say, “Let’s go guys! Out of the car! I want to tell you about —-!” In contrast, Adalid, with black, square-rimmed glasses, was very quiet (his English was not as good) but he would often check on us in his review mirror and give a shy smile, revealing his clean braces.

We drove a short distance over to the travel agency office, Salty Tours, to pick up the other tour participants. We met Line (Lee-Na) and Anton, a Danish couple who were on a many month long honeymoon through South America. We also met Luke, an Irish boy from outside of Dublin, who only joined us for the first day. The 8 of us piled into the four-wheel drive car and set off.

The first stop was the train graveyard. Oscar told an immensely passionate yet condensed history of Bolivia. He explained the British and US had funded railroad construction to support the copper mine until the mine collapsed and all the American tracks and British train cars were left where they stood, sinking into the sand, rusting away in the salty air. One hundred years later they’d prove to be a good enough tourist attraction to make it our first stop. Oscar also explained how Carnaval caused Bolivia to lose their coast to Chile. For one decisive battle the Chileans had come ready to fight but the Bolivians had been drinking for a week to celebrate the holiday. Oscar warned that we were still in Carnaval and that Sunday would be a big drinking day.

We took tons of photos – made better by Carl’s new cowboy hat – and then piled back into the car.

Then it was off to the Salt Museum. Again Oscar got us out of the car quickly and hurriedly but thoroughly explained the chemistry of salt flat formation and how the locals mined and processed the salt. He showed a block of salt flat that had been excavated. The block showed alternating layers of salt and dirt pack, evident of the wet and dry seasons that had formed it.

We walked through the several steps of salt production, tasting a little bit at each step, and marveling over the crystals. The natural salt crystals formed interlocking cubes, sometimes forming like little miniature Mayan temples. The crystals were beautiful and I wanted to keep one as a souvenir but knew it would not make it in my bag.

Finally, we drove to the salt flats. This was one of the moments I wish I could relive. The scenery was unreal. The shock and awe that fell over everyone in the car was palatable- our brains could not process what we saw. In every direction it was blank, white nothingness that glowed with a heavenly aura. In this distance we could see mountains but their bases were erased by optical illusion making them look like islands floating in a white sea.

We got out near some pools. Oscar explained that because we were near the shore we could see evidence of pressure on the salt flats through the bubbles of air coming to the surface of the salty water. He tested this theory with us. We found a little pond that had no bubbles and stood in a circle around it. We all jumped and stomped and – suddenly- bubbles started forming in the water- air escaping the many salty rock layers below.

Oscar advised us that the salt water was good for the skin and overall health so a few of us took off our boots and put our feet in. The water was not as cold as you’d expect, probably because it was shallow and being heated by the sun. Oscar explained that clouds never formed over the salt flats because of the sun rays reflection of the giant white surface. I liked splashing around with my feet and I would have submerged my whole body in the salty water if I’d had my swimsuit.

For lunch we drove over to the Salt Hotel and picnicked inside it. The Salt Hotel is a circular, domed structure out in the middle of the flats that is almost entirely made of salt blocks. Tour groups like ours are not allowed to stay at the hotel (in fact, Oscar was surprised the Gov let the hotel be built until he learned the builder/owner was the son of a very well liked salt miner from the area) but we were allowed to eat inside and use their modern, flushable toilets.

Adalid opened up several giant thermoses filled with food- rice, chicken, veggies- and we sat in salt blocks and ate off a salt table (with a nice fabric table cloth).

After lunch is when the real fun began. We drove over to a dry area for some perspective photos. Oscar was the MASTER at framing photos. We felt like actors on a set and he was the director – shouting at us to go left or right, forward or backward, lifting limbs and turning heads. He took so many awesome, funny photos.

The dry area was good for playing with perspective. Then we drove to the wet area to play with reflection. Again, Oscar barked out instructions for us to follow to make the perfect Instagram posts. My favorite part was when he and Adalid got in the car and drove around us in circles, taking a time lapse video while we performed different poses.

Then we had some ‘free time’ and we experimented with our own cinematography skills. As we took thousands of photos, the clouds to the south darkened and we started to see bolts of lightning out on the horizon. This cloud variation made for amazing light and it just kept getting better as the sun set. We moved to an area closer to shore for sunset and Oscar and Adalid got out a plastic table and placed it right in the water, putting a bottle of wine and 8 glasses on top. We cheers to the sunset and poured a little wine out for Pachamama- the indigenous name for Mother Earth. After the sun went down the sky continued to change colors, getting more beautiful each second. And then the crescent moon came into view. With the moon to one side, volcanos in the distance to the other, and a thunderstorm to the south, we were literally surrounded by beautiful views and couldn’t figure out which direction to take pictures, overwhelmed by the many options.

After the sunset we drove back to Uyuni and stayed in a hostel called the Salty House. No furniture made of salt here, but the staff were a little salty toward us – likely tired of the non-Spanish speaking tourists being churned through their doors. We rinsed the salt out of our clothes and gratefully took hot showers. We thanked Pachamama for a beautiful day, and went to sleep early.

Tuesday, March 1 – Fat Tuesday

We slept in hard and then used the remaining morning hours to book some travel reservations. We finally left our Airbnb and walked again up the hill to Sagarnaga street, aiming for the witch market.

Everything seemed closed for the holiday and the weather kept changing dramatically from cold in the shade to hot in the sun. Karen’s asthma was not tolerating the altitude and all of us were slow going walking up the steep streets. Apparently the water and soap spraying of Carnival was still in effect and we got soaped, sprayed, and water ballooned as we walked up the hill.

We made it to the witch market – normally a street of souvenir stalls that sell pagean themed chachkis. Because of the holiday nearly everything was closed. I was able to get an amulet to bring us good luck in traveling. As I left the shop a drunken man fell down as he lunged after me but several other men- friends of the witchy shopkeeper- pulled him back as they shook their heads and tsk tsked him. The amulet was already showing its power!

We stopped at Cafe del Mundo – the same cafe where Carl and I considered getting food two days before but opted for something quicker. Our guts had been right before because it took a week to get three coffees and some crepes (Pancake Tuesday!) We were in no rush as the only thing left on our agenda was to take the teleférico up to El Alto again and we still had 3 hours of daylight.

We decided to walk to the historic street, Jaén, which was not that impressive, especially after seeing the old city of Cartagena.

We struggled to walk up the hill to the start of the red line. But once we were on it we again ogled at the amazing views. We got out at the end of the red line and walked along the road trying to see a good view. We saw some foreigners come out from a gated area so we snuck inside to see what they’d been up to. Behind the gate was a row of shacks that looked out over the freeway and over the whole city. I had read about an area in La Paz where shamans lit things on fire and told fortunes etc and this seemed like the place for it. There were remnants of Carnival decorations strewn about but not much in terms of shamans. We took some pictures of the epic view, mumbled some good omens into the world, and left before finding out what time they close the gate to this shamany-cliff we had stumbled upon.

Originally we thought we’d take the blue line to see some Cholettes. Patti had told us the Cholettes were financed and lived in by the indigenous women of the area and could cost $1 million for exterior and interior decorations. A google search said most Cholettes are built in neo-Andean style which I had never heard of. We were able to see many along the road so we opted to not take the blue line and instead to head back to our Airbnb along the silver line to the yellow line.

The silver line connected the highest points of the red and yellow line, carrying us across the top of the altiplano with an occasional gut churning view into an abyss of steep, craggy rocks below. The yellow line dropped us back down into the valley and we had been so high it felt like we were descending for days.

Back ‘in the city’ Carl and I wandered to find something for dinner. Everything was still closed and what was open was actively closing because it was already nearly 8pm. We decided on a place called Pollo Ja Ja Ja (chicken hahaha) and couldn’t decide whether the name or the fried chicken was better.

Wednesday, March 2

Our Airbnb host showed up promptly at 10am, house cleaner in tow. He let us store our bags in his garage locker for a small fee and then we scuttled across the street to a cafe Carl had read about called Cafe Typica. The cafe was SO cute. It was like being in someone’s old house with a record store in the front room, the coffee makers in the dining room and cafe seating throughout the rest. The decor was old fashioned with books and objects like old cameras scattered on tables and on an old fireplace mantle.

We got coffees and did some more trip planning, figuring out how best to spend our last day in La Paz before taking the train to Uyuni that night. We got a taxi up to Mirador Killi Killi, a viewpoint that offered 300 degree view of the city. We had been higher the day before but we still admired the sprawling city and its nearby majestic, snow covered mountains. We tried out the seesaw- probably the world’s highest seesaw!

We walked downhill from here to a park that was surrounded by old government buildings. We got an ice cream from a vendor. Two cones for five bolivianos, which we had started to endearingly call ‘Bobs’.

Karen went to sit in a cafe and Carl and I walked to the national brewery and tried to get in for a tour or a drink with no luck. As we walked back we spotted a place advertising haircuts for 10 Bobs ($1.25 dollars) and I urged Carl to get one so he could look like a South American soccer player. It turned out pretty well but I did have to cut it a little more after because he does not exactly like it slicked back like Cristiano Ronaldo.

After this we wandered over to a ‘brewery’ which ended up being a tap house on the top floor of a building with great city views. The guy did not warn me that the IPA I chose came in a big girl bottle but I accepted my fate and welcomed the sleepy bus ride to come. From here we met Karen at a vegan restaurant and got a little food before getting our bags and heading to the bus terminal.

The bus had been advertised as a sleeper bus and the chairs leaned 160 degrees back. Despite this nice feature, we kept slipping down the seat whenever the bus stopped abruptly (a lot) and I got very little sleep. We arrived in Uyuni on time at 5:30 am and immediately went to our hostel, checked in early, and slept for many hours.

Sunday, February 27

The Airport

Even as a former government employee, I couldn’t believe the logistical inefficiencies I was experiencing. It was 6am at the Bolivia El Alto internacional airport. I sat, slumped against the wall, last in line to get a visa. Carl stood in front of me, shifting his feet nervously. He walked over to the security guard to ask – again – if we had all the required documentation before we got to the window.

Our flight had left Lima late, a little after 1 am and I couldn’t believe we weren’t more delayed given the extremely chaotic boarding process. We didn’t think they were going to let us on the plane. After getting our boarding passes online for the first time on this whole trip, we wondered when they were going to ask to see our required negative PCR tests and other forms. Well, about 10 minutes before boarding one of the LATAM staff walked around the waiting area to see if everyone had the forms. We showed her all of our paperwork: passport, vaccine card, negative test, proof of insurance, and two affidavits because we couldn’t figure out online which was the right one. She lingered over the insurance. We had World Nomads which covered up to $100,000 in health expenses ($30,000 required by Bolivia). She asked where in our coverage it said that it covered COVID health expenses. We showed her their website which said COVID expenses were covered under health expenses. She refused to accept this, wanting to see the words COVID next to our coverage amount. When Karen showed her insurance (she purchased the slightly nicer plan) she was able to show the woman a line that said COVID travel coverage, which the woman accepted. This enraged me. I tried to explain to her that Karen’s insurance covered travel expenses incurred due to COVID, for example if this woman didn’t let us on this flight, Karen would be covered and we wouldn’t. The agent refused to accept this and asked us to look harder in our contract.

I called World Nomads but of course the insurance office wasn’t open, only the emergency line. A very calm man based in Florida was able to confirm our insurance covered COVID health expenses, just as it covered any health expense. The staff woman refused to speak with him over the phone, demanding written documentation. I asked the guy if he could send an email and he very kindly and patiently wrote one out and sent it.

I received the email just as our group was called to board. Luckily, there was another airline agent checking forms and, given the added urgency of boarding, he wasn’t being as ruthlessly detailed. He didn’t even check our insurance and stamped our boarding pass, waiving us through. Around us we saw many groups arguing with agents over the required forms and it seemed that not everyone made it on the plane.

Our plane had landed in La Paz only 6 minutes late, at 4:06am. Surprisingly, they disembarked the plane from back to front so we were near the front of the line in immigration. The first line was just for COVID documents. They took one of the affidavits and looked at our negative PCR test results. Then we stood in line for the non-Bolivians, non-South Americans. Finally, when we reached the desk the woman told us to go to a window off to the side to get our visa, then come back to the desk. The window only said ‘tarjeta’ (card) above it which made us think it was just for people paying for visa with card (and we had spent fees to withdraw the $320 in cash needed for 2 Bolivian visas) but we complied and got in line.

We waited in line for an hour. There was a group of Ukrainians in front of us who were having issues with their documentation. They kept going from the window to the desk, cutting off other people waiting patiently, all the while wearing their masks on their chins. Perhaps because of their impolite behavior, the man at the window had no patience left for us. He asked for a printed copy of our passports, and documentation of where we were staying in La Paz and our flight info for leaving Bolivia. We had this documentation (Airbnb reservation and a bus to the Bolivian/Argentinian border which we hoped would suffice) but only on our phones, not printed. He barely said anything and dismissed us with a waive of his hand, shooing us away without explaining why he wouldn’t look at our phones. We had been talking to the man behind us who had everything printed (including his bank statement!) and he promptly took our spot saying, ‘you need to print your things’. Ok…would have been nice to know!! There we stood, with the immigration desk in front, security guards guarding the door back to the plane, and a set of bathrooms. Where was the Kinkos?!

I asked the lady at the desk because she seemed nicer before. She said a representative from the airlines could print things for us and then she looked around the room as if to say ‘he was just here’. Finally a tall man in a full purple suit with slicked back hair (looking like the rich evil villain of the movie) walked up and took pictures of our phone docs so he could go print. We got back in the window line and waited. When he came back with our Airbnb reservation and bus reservation printed there were still 5 people in front of us. Meanwhile, Karen with her Irish passport hadn’t needed a visa and had gone through after talking to the desk woman about an hour before.

Finally, finally, we made it back to the window with our printed documents. We were literally the last people at immigration. THIS TIME the window agent didn’t even look at our papers. He asked for the $160. Carl handed him $320 in cash for both of us. The man examined each $20 bill one by one. For the first bill he pointed out a small ink stain on the top corner and he set it aside. For the second bill he pointed out a small tear on the top and set it aside. Bill by bill he pointed out small defects and made a pile of the rejected bills and pushed it back to Carl saying he couldn’t accept the cash. At THIS point I looked for the hidden cameras. He had to be joking. I laughed and threw up my hands. This process had been so ridiculous I couldn’t believe it. Carl gave the man our credit card which (surprise!!) worked.

He gave us a very pretty full page visa and we went back to the woman at the desk for her review and stamp on another page. Carl got the same woman we had before and I went to the desk of, apparently, the new employee. Finally she asked me my profession. I laughed again because I wanted to say ‘unemployed’, ‘spy’, ‘clown’ – what did this matter at this stage?? I said Engineer and she finally took all my documents, kept them, and stamped my passport.

Sweet, angelic Karen was waiting for us on the other side with a croissant and a water. We got an Uber to the Airbnb where the host was waiting for us. He was very sweet. He showed us around the apartment and explained everything. We were beyond excited to see the washing machine. We all took a nap for several hours.

The City

We woke up around noon and got ourselves organized. Carl and I decided to walk around a bit while Karen stayed back and got groceries for all of us. Carl and I tried to find the nearest travel agency but it was closed. Then we went to a well reviewed restaurant, also closed. So we walked up Avenue 20 de Octubre. We looked for a place to get something to eat. It felt like it was early morning still and they say you shouldn’t eat heavy meals when adjusting to elevation so we looked for something on the lighter side. Then we passed by about 10 carnicerías that had every kind of grilled meat. One place even had a grilled meat salad. We opted to come back later, which then we regretted because we never got a chance to return.

It was about 30 minute walk uphill to the street, Sagarnaga, where a bunch of travel agencies and souvenir shops were. As we walked uphill we passed through an open air market where women were selling all kinds of fruits and vegetables and lots of different flowers. It was beautiful and smelled great. We could hear music, like a parade, close by and wondered what was happening. Walking up further we started seeing kids with water balloons and water guns and cans of some kind of soap spray. It took us too long to realize it was Carnival. We figured we were safe from water guns if we didn’t wear a poncho or carry ammunition.

We got to the top of Sagarnaga and saw a travel agency in the first shop. We noticed a sign for Cholitas wrestling- a semi tourist thing where native women demonstrate their strength and independence through theatrical fake wrestling- and as we looked at the sign a woman inside called us in. We asked her about it and she said the tour left in about an hour. As we discussed booking that we also asked her about booking a day trip to Lake Titicaca. We were able to book both for pretty cheap all the while the little boy (her son?) and a man (the dad?) were spraying people with their water gun whenever someone walked by.

When everything was booked we had about 30 minutes to get something to eat before we had to meet the tour guide. We walked down the street but didn’t see much. We stopped in a cafe but could feel how slow the ordering process would be, so we left. We were running out of time. We ran up the street again (not an easy feat at 12,000 feet!) back through the outdoor market where we were sure we’d seen some street food. Finally we found a woman selling hot dogs. Good enough! No idea what was in the dogs- they were nearly neon orange – and they were topped with potato strings and sauce. They hit the spot. We had enough time to have a small conversation with the woman making the hotdogs and another customer. They both seemed surprised when we told them we were from the US. This continued to happen over the next few days. Given how hard it was to get in to the country, we weren’t surprised that few Americans had made it, let alone bought orange hotdogs from this woman on this random street.

We thanked her and left. The second we stood up we noticed the sky had grown dark. Kids were still throwing water at each other as we rushed up the street. We were nearly back to the travel agency when it started to rain. We kept running (uphill!) and made it into the shop without getting too wet. The agency let us borrow some ponchos and we followed the guide down the street. Now that we were wearing ponchos we were slightly worried the kids would think we were part of the water games. The guide had us wait outside a nice hotel while he looked for the other tour participants. We were waiting with the tour guide’s kids – a 16 yr old girl and a 9 year old boy who had a huge super soaker. He kept waiting until people had walked by and then would spray them in the back. As we waited there it began to rain harder and then it hailed. Then it seemed a little silly to be spraying people with water.

Finally our guide came back and said the others were no shows so the five of us would go ahead. We followed our new family down to the purple teleférico- the cable car- and rode it up the hill to the neighborhood of El Alto. From the teleférico we could see across the valley and admire the huge mountains looming on all sides of the city. In El Alto we got out and walked, zig-zagging through the busy streets and open air markets.

We finally came up to a huge concrete building- basically a high school basketball gym – with a wrestling ring in the middle. Our guide seemed to know everyone that worked there. As he happily greeted every person he showed us to our plastic chairs beside the ring and then he disappeared. We later wondered whether he was in the show at some point. We will never know because the luchadores wear such great masks over their faces.

They started playing some hype music that sounded like Eminem or Linkin Park on bad speakers with clowns singing the rap solos. Then the announcer came on and introduced the wrestlers. Two women came out dressed in the traditional dress with two long braids and big fluffy skirts. Up until they started fighting we weren’t sure if it was going to be serious wrestling or like the kind from World Wrestling Entertainment. Immediately we realized it was the later as they performed coordinated moves, throwing each other down and bouncing every way off the ropes. They acted out a little scene where one woman obviously had the crooked referee on her side and she wailed on the other. In the end the underdog rose up and prevailed, beating the crooked player AND the ref.

At a break one of the staff came up and gave us popcorn and Coca Cola’s in glass bottles. There was another round of wrestling, this time some men in full lucha libre outfits entered the rings and seemed to team up with the Cholitas. Because of Carnival, all the locals in the stands had water guns, water balloons and/or the soap spray cans. Whenever one of the wrestlers would get near the crowd would unleash and the scene would end in hilarity and the wrestlers tried to slip away, drenched in soapy water.

At the end of the show, the man who gave us the snacks came up again and directed us to follow a young woman and a taxi driver. They drove us back to the teleférico and the young woman got out and rode it down the hill with us. She spoke so fast it was hard to understand her but we all enjoyed the scene from the cable car as we descended into the city lights below. At the bottom we learned that she had just come down as our escort so we said goodbye and she went back up the hill again. We headed back to our Airbnb.

When we got there we heard live music playing across the street. Curiosity got the best of us and we decided to investigate the source, despite how tired we were. We saw a sign for an ‘end of the world party’ and walked down an alley to find an open warehouse full of people dancing. There was a band playing a mix of rock and traditional pan flute music. They were actually so good! Lining the walls were tables piled with merchandise. Everything seemed to be goth or satanic themed which we guessed was related to the end of the world theme.

Then a man approached us. He was a short, very drunk Bolivian man with a black front tooth, chubby cheeks, and wavy hair hanging down to his legs. We had to lean over to to put our ear next to his mouth and he would yell things in slurred English like ‘where you from?’ and ‘welcome to my country’. He kept making the rounds around the room. When he approached I would back away slowly behind Carl. He introduced us to one of his friends and kept yelling things into Carl’s ear. Carl said “if he spits in my ear one more time…’ Finally we decided to go back to the Airbnb to sleep. We felt impressed with how much we had experienced in Bolivia already despite starting our day so late.

Monday, February 28

The tour van came to our street to pick us up promptly at 7:30am. We were the first to get picked up and hoped we’d be the only ones because the van was teeny tiny. We ended up picking up enough people and suitcases to fill up the whole thing and our poor sweet tour guide, Patti, had to sit backwards on the step by the door. We drove out of the city and up into the altiplano, the higher ground. Even though we’d had granola at the Airbnb I was starved so we some breakfast cookies and paid to use one of the worst bathrooms of the trip (1/10 score).

As we drove through the high valley Patti explained about the city and history of La Paz, the mountains nearby, and about the indigenous peoples. It was about 3.5 hours to the town of Copacabana. Before getting there we had to cross the narrow Strait of Tiquina. The van went on a car raft and all us passengers got out and took a ferry across. Then it was about 40 minutes to the town and the very big impressive church of the Virgen Copacabana, the town’s namesake. Finally we got lunch at the local touristy restaurant. The best part was the local dish – Pique Macho – that we joked was Bolivian Poutine because it was French fries with all kinds of stuff on top: chicken, sausage, beef, cheese, olives, and a thick gravy. We sat with a guy from Argentina (originally Venezuela) who had great English and great travel tips for us.

After lunch we walked down to the shore and got in a boat to take us to Isla del Sol (sun island). Carl and I climbed up top and tried to keep up with the fast speaking Bolivians as they chatted and shared their little bottle of Johnny Walker with us. There were two Bolivian couples that sat up top with us and both were planning to stay on Isla del Sol for the holiday (Carnival).

When we got to the island we all got out and walked up a steep hill to nearly the top. We then traversed next to ecolodges and tourist stands and walked back down the hill on the other side of the bay to meet our boat again. We were impressed with all the crops being grown and how the area seemed so much like Napa, California.

On the boat ride back we sat inside and schemed our next travel destinations. Driving back we had a few minor adventures. First they let us stay in the van as it was driven aboard the car raft and we felt like we were playing bumper boats out in the channel. Just after this someone asked if we could quickly get food before driving back because at this point it was about 8pm and we had last eaten at 1pm and still had a 3 hour drive. Our guide allowed it and Karen and I found a roadside stand that served chicken and fries- she ate the fries and I the chicken- and then we ran back into the van shooing away the stray dogs following us.

With all that van time my back was starting to feel it so I was leaning forward in my seat and all of a sudden our driver braked so hard. I crashed into the drivers seat, hitting my knee with a big thud. Neither the driver or the guide seemed to notice so then I dug the sad, wilted seatbelt out from the seat cracks and pulled it across my lap.

Carnival was still being celebrated when we got home but we had 0 energy so we went to bed before midnight again like the 30 somethings we are.

Wednesday, February 23

The complimentary breakfast at the Paradis hotel included bread, fruit, and eggs to order. We thought the bread at the hostel in aguas calientes was terrible but we realized, at this fancy hotel, that breakfast bread in Peru is always bad. Like white bread naan that was baked many days ago. Still, the fruit was great and they even had a basket of coca leaves.
We checked out and got an Uber over to the intended hostel – Chusay Rooftop – where Karen was staying. Finally feeling well rested and more acclimated to the altitude we decided to walk around the town.
Our first stop was the San Pedro market which consists of a large indoor marketplace and many adjacent outside streets with people selling all kinds of things. The indoor market was well organized by row such as ‘meat’ on one side and ‘dried things’ on the other. The meat section was the biggest culture shock as they had huge hunks of every kind of animal hanging out in the open air.

Even though it was before noon we decided to get some lunch. We tried the ‘ceviche’ area and found an area with tool stools and an eager salesperson who invited us to sit. We were comforted when other people started to sit around us too. We ordered the trucha (trout) ceviche for 15 soles ($3.75 dollars). The order included the ceviche, “corn nuts” (really maíz nuts), a fish broth soup, sweet potato and a shot of tiger’s milk which we learned is like a vinegary fish broth that was my favorite part of the meal. They also served purple Chicha which I don’t think was alcoholic.

After this meal we walked around the outdoor market area and marveled at how good the weather had been for us. There were streets and streets of people selling fruits and vegetables and some of the people were kind enough to tell us what things were when we asked. We ended up buying some dried figs and pistachios inside and then some deliciously ripe plums outside. I regret not getting more! We also bought a bag of coca leaves for 1 sol (.25 cents)

Then we walked down one of the main commercial streets to another indoor market that the Uber driver told us was an artist’s market and a good place to buy souvenirs. Well, I think everything inside the market was from the same factory in China but at least it was quiet and the people weren’t too pushy. I ended up getting a little alpaca keychain made out of baby alpaca fur.

We were starting to feel tired again but didn’t want to go back to the hostel because the weather was good and we wanted to explore Cusco more. We chewed on some more coca leaves and really noticed the beneficial effect on our attitudes and ability to walk uphill in the altitude.

We walked uptown toward the historic area. We decided to check out the coca museum. The museum was small but it had explanations in English and we learned also about the indigenous peoples in Peru. We bought some coca beer out of a Coca Cola cooler and sat on the museum couch to take a rest. The beer wasn’t that cold and it didn’t taste great, but maybe it gave us more motivation than a normal beer would have.

From here we walked up, up, up to a viewpoint above the city. We admired all the red clay tile roofs and spotted several cats on the roofs, dozing in the sunshine.

Even though it was early we decided to get dinner at a place recommended by our Colombian travel agent (he couldn’t help himself and continued to send us many recommendations!). The place was called Pachapapa and it was a bit pricey for our new hostel-going identity but we were lured in by the interesting looking cocktails and wood fired oven. Both of our cocktails had Pisco in them but Carl’s was more smokey while mine tasted like fake honeydew melon (in a good way). We learned Pisco is a fortified wine that tastes good in other drinks besides Pisco sours, though I think Pisco sour is the best form of it. As an appetizer we ordered stuffed Rocoto peppers and were surprised how spicy they were. For our main we split the roasted lamb which had a great sauce and fell off the bone as we cut it.

From here we made the semi-long journey back to our hostel to get to bed early.

Thursday, February 24 – Rainbow Mountain (Palccoyo)

Our alarms went off at 3:20am. No, not a typo. 3:20am. Though we had our own room, the walls of the hostel were paper thin so we got ready quietly and with hushed whispers crept downstairs to the lobby area. Our guide was waiting outside for us and we climbed aboard a van at 3:45am. He introduced himself as Josue and let us know we’d be the only 3 in the 15 passenger van. We had 1.5 hour drive to the breakfast spot so he advised us to try to get some sleep. Well despite having the van to ourselves we were very uncomfortable. It felt like the driver kept speeding up and then slamming on the brakes before every speed bump. And there were SO MANY speed bumps. Sweet Jesus if there wasn’t 1,000 speed bumps before we got out of the city. I started counting thinking it would help me calm down but it only made me angrier. I moved from the front of the van to a row further back to try to lay down. I then discovered that the van was exactly as wide as I am tall. The top of my head rested on the left side, my bum barely fit on the second seat before the aisle, and my legs crossed the aisle to the seat on the right side where the soles of my feet fit perfectly on the other side of the van. I tried this position for about 30 seconds until my brain about rattled out of my skull because my head was touching the side. I then scooted down and bent my legs, letting my bum hang slightly into the aisle. This worked for a bit until the driver slammed on the breaks and I flew forward. Luckily the space between each row was so tight that I fell against the row in front of me (sorry Karen) and not down onto the ground. We finally arrived at the restaurant for breakfast and the sun still wasn’t out yet. Our guide explained our early departure was intended to avoid the crowds to which we unanimously replied we’d rather have slept in and had people in our stupid photos. But there was a kind lady waiting to serve us food so we went inside and sat down for our 5:20am breakfast. The coffee they served was new to us – hot water in one container and thick coffee (like syrup) in another so you could make your own strength cup. They also had bean juice which was frothy and warm and tasted kind of like the red beans used in Asian pastries. We asked “what kind of bean is the juice?” and Josue replied “juice of the bean”. We later googled ‘Peru bean juice’ which returned few results and confused us more. For food they brought us us fruit and eggs which we politely ate even though we rather would have been asleep. Oh- and more very dried out bread.

Back in the van for another 1.5 hour drive up the mountain. From the restaurant we left the paved roads and headed uphill along bumpy dirt roads. If we thought it was hard to sleep before it was like the gods heard and added more rocks and curvy roads. But as we ascended the sun came up and we could see the beautiful scenery. There were mountains with natural steps and in some areas the locals had used these steps to plant their crops up the hill. The road snaked back and forth upward along a river which was gushing full of water and flanked by deep red rocks and desert vegetation. There were packs of alpacas everywhere, keeping the grass trimmed. Finally we came upon a village where all the buildings were made out of big bricks of the red clay we had seen in the mountains on the way up.

Reaching the top of this mountain we were let out and shown up a slightly inclined path. We walked slowly and still felt out of breath. It felt like we had just ate a full thanksgiving dinner and were trying to run a marathon. Then our guide informed us we were at 16,000 feet- taller than the tallest mountain in the continental states (Grand Teton in Wyoming is 13,775 and Mount Whitney in CA is 14,500 feet) No wonder we felt terrible!

We took it slow and took many breaks. We all chewed on some coca but even then Karen’s asthma was really affecting her and we all had headaches. Josue was also acting as question master asking us everything about ourselves to a point it was ridiculous. He asked Carl where the best place is and then clarified, “but where is the best place to party?” To Karen he asked soo many questions including why she and I had matching rings when Carl and I are the ones engaged. Finally we reached the top and could see three ‘rainbow mountains’ which are called this because of the stripes of different colored rock you can see. There are actually two ‘rainbow mountains’ in the Cusco area – we were at Palccoyo which was slightly lower elevation, easier hike, and much fewer tourists. The other mountain is called Vinicunca.

We took a lot of photos and Carl and I walked across the Valley to another mountain but were careful not to walk on the actual colors to respect the local people that believed these mountains to be sacred. We also learned that the rainbow mountain tourist attraction is a new one only made possible because the glaciers that used to cover them have since melted. In traveling we have experienced many times the conflicting feelings of exploring the world as climate change worsens. On the one hand, we don’t want to exacerbate the problem. On the other, the world is changing quickly and beyond our control and we want to see and experience things before it is too late to do so. With this sentiment we admired the mountains and all their colors and expressed gratitude that we are lucky enough to have seen it. And for photos without any other stinking tourists in the background!!

As we left another bus of tourists pulled up but before then we had been the only humans for as far as the eye could see, which was actually nice (but undecided if it was worth the early wake up).

We walked back down the mountain. Another scenic and jostling van ride back to the same restaurant. We were able to order off a menu and I got trout ceviche (I would eat trout ceviche every day if I could), Carl got the alpaca lomo saltado (stir fry), and Karen got pesto pasta as one of the few veggie things available.

Before heading back to Cusco, Josue offered that we could stop by a popular photo spot of a giant hand hanging over a view point of a town. We paid 6 soles ($1.50) and waited in a line to take pictures in the giant hand.

Back in the van for another 45 minute ride to Cusco. I had downloaded an audio book that I actually didn’t like very much but it worked out perfectly as it lulled me to sleep and then I didn’t care how much I had missed when I woke up. We all were able to nap on the way back but we were still pretty exhausted when we got to the hostel at about 4pm.

We did some trip planning (and agreed we missed our Colombian trip planners, Kontour) and Carl and I decided to get an early dinner so we could go to sleep early and prepare for another early morning the next day.

We had heard of Chaufa or Chifa, a Peruvian take on Chinese fried rice. We sought out the google top rated chaufa restaurants and found the one that had good food reviews though they said the tv was way too loud. Sure enough, two tvs – one on first floor and one on second- were blaring. They were on the same channel but somehow off by half a second so the audio was repeating like we were in a bad dream. Luckily after we sat down the waiter eyed us and muted the tv next to our heads. We got Coronas, chaufa, and a stir fried chicken and broccoli dish. It was basically like American Chinese food, but it was good and comforting after a long day.

Friday, February 25 – Humantay Lake

We had planned to meet our tour guide at 5am and so set our alarms for 4:30am. At 4:30 he called me through WhatsApp and said he was outside waiting for us. Peeved, we said we would’ve down when we were ready. We got down to find a van nearly full of people. The poor souls that woke up early and then waited for us! Carl and I got in while Karen remained behind, the altitude from the previous day proving too much for her asthma.

Like a bad dream it was the same day trip scheme again: 1.5 hour drive to breakfast, 1.5 hour drive to the mountain, 1 hour hike up, 1 hour hike down, 1.5 drive back to the same restaurant for lunch, and then 1.5 hour drive back to Cusco. The van drove in the opposite direction than rainbow mountain and we actually were going close to where Machu Picchu sits. There were almost no speed bumps but the road was windier. I was between a man on my left and Carl on my right and it was like playing the car game, jello, as I lurched back and forth between them.

The breakfast was really good fruit and…chaufa! Chaufa for breakfast?! But it was good. More of the coffee syrup + hot water which was fine. Arriving to the mountain finally we got out and found it was raining. For being the rainy season it was amazing that this was our first time the whole week that we were in the rain. We dressed accordingly- putting our rain jackets over our packs. And we were able to borrow some hiking sticks to assist with the muddy slopes.

The first part of the hike was slightly inclined and we felt stronger than we had the previous day because we were at slightly lower altitude. Then the hike got steeper and our group starting lagging behind. Carl and a guy from Boston named Casey kept a fast pace and I followed slightly slower behind. We passed by cows and horses munching on the grass. A few times a man or woman leading several horses downhill would ask me if I wanted to rent a horse (“Señorita? hhoooarse?”) and I would exhale “no, gracias” and try not to be offended that they thought I looked like I wasn’t going to make it on my own.

Finally we made it to the top and our hearts dropped as we saw the mountaintop lake and the surrounding mountains were mostly covered with a thick fog. You could still make out the intense aquamarine blue color of the lake water caused by the glacial soil but we agreed we would have to photo shop our faces on some picture from the internet instead of using our own photos on Instagram. As we stood around and waited for the rest of our group to each the top, the fog lifted slightly and we were able to see more of the lake and some of the mountain looming behind it. Edgar, our guide, explained a few things about the lake including that the government had decided to put trout in the lake that only the indigenous locals were allowed to catch. I questioned the ecological sense of putting river trout into a glacial lake but held my tongue because I was the one eating trout ceviche everyday so sure they needed to source all that fish from somewhere. As Edgar spoke, the fog continued to clear and we were able to get some better photos. Then we headed back down the hill, into the fog, which drenched our fronts and somehow left our backs dry.

Back to the same restaurant for lunch. They served vegetables, a yummy pesto soup, rice, pasta salad and a well marinated chicken. They also had warm anise tea.

Back into the van for the 1.5 hour drive back to Cusco. A Dutch couple had moved into our seats saying that they suffered car sickness so they wanted to be closer to the front. I sat next to them and poor Carl went in the back and did not feel well when we arrived in Cusco.

We decided to try Peruvian sushi for our last night in Cusco and went to a place called Cuzmo. We got trout sashimi and two weird rolls- one had tiger’s milk poured on it and the other was somehow smoky with a fruity sauce on top. It was weird, good sushi and it helped Carl and me feel better. That night we went to bed at 8:30pm and didn’t get up until 8:30 am the next day.

Saturday, February 26

We slept in hard and then checked out of our hostel and meandered to a cafe for coffees and some breakfast. We stopped by the chocolate museum and got a free tour with many free samples. The guide said that mosquitos pollinate the cocoa bean which I still don’t believe. We tried some hot chocolates where they gave us melted chocolate and warm milk and a myriad of spices to make our own varieties.

Afterward we walked up to another market in a courtyard, San Francisco market, which turned out to be more of the same touristy knick knacks. Then Carl and I went back to the San Pedro food market to see if we could use our last 5.5 soles. We were able to get some coffee for 4 and then only had 1.5 soles for snacks. We found a woman who had a bucket of corn nuts and she weighed out 1.56 soles worth for us, laughing and shaking her head at us for having so little to spend.

Carl and I wandered around the neighborhoods a bit before going back to the hostel and getting an Uber to the airport.

Sunday, February 20

We were so happy to land in Cusco early in the morning with no hiccups, knowing we still had several hours before we needed to catch our train. We got an Uber into town and enjoyed talking with the driver who spoke slow, well pronounced Spanish that we could completely understand! He dropped us off at the Inca Rail office where we checked in just to make sure we were prepared for that afternoon. Then Carl and I wandered to a café to get some caffeine and something small to nibble. With the lack of sleep, high altitude, and still upset bellies we were feeling unwell to say the least. We got some cappuccinos that were too milky and a delicious meat empanada. Unfortunately the place didn’t have WiFi so we had no incentive to camp out longer and we meandered over to the main plaza. We sat in the plaza for a while and eventually our friend Karen came and met us. The three of us caught up while sitting on a park bench and shooing away all the trinket peddlers.

We hiked up a hill to get to a Peruvian restaurant that was recommended to us but when we got there it hadn’t opened yet so we opted for a vegan place close by. The vegan place ended up having really good food and we realized we hadn’t eaten enough vegetables so far on our trip so we made up for it with a green salad and a beet burger. I got a strawberry kombucha that was so good, it would’ve been worth it just for that.

After lunch we walked back down the hill, back to the Inca Rail office. We had to buy face shields for .50 cents each (2 soles) to wear in the train and were asked to wear double masks for the bus ride. The first part of the journey was a 2+ hour bus/van ride to the town of Ollantaytambo. The scenery was so amazing and I tried so hard to keep my eyes open but I’d find myself waking up when the bus jostled, not even realizing I had fallen asleep. In Ollantaytambo we had an hour wait until the train. Karen and I walked around and bought some water and some pretty cloth face masks for the train. When we came back Carl said that a guy had come by and said the train was boarding and we needed to go. We hustled and bustled and got down to where the gates to the tracks were. The gates were closed and they were letting people out so we hung around. Next thing we knew I hear someone say “Shelton?!” and I turned and said that’s me. He said “you’re train is departing”. At exactly this moment it started to sprinkle rain. He pointed down the tracks – all the way on the other side of the station was a single train car. We ran down and climbed aboard, realizing we were the last ones on. We had nearly missed it! After all that! All we could do was laugh and be grateful that we made it, again.

The train ride took us through a valley, adjacent to a river. The area had experienced heavy torrential rains in the last couple weeks which even knocked out part of the train tracks. The river was gushing with cloudy brown water, going so fast that it gave us the creeps to look at. The mountains that rose up on either side of us were jaw-dropping: steep, craggy peaks poking through the low hanging clouds. We could see little glaciers on the distant mountains. Occasionally we would go through a tunnel only to re-emerge into the verdant green jungle. When we looked at the weather report for the week we saw rain and thunder clouds predicted for every single day. This made sense, given that February is the height of rainy season. In fact they close the main trail, the Inca Trail, to do repairs during February because it is the low tourist season. Given rainy season and slow recovery from COVID I’m not sure why we booked things so far ahead, but here we were ready to embrace whatever the day would be.

When we finally got to Aguas Calientes, the town at the base of Machu Picchu, we were immediately introduced to our guide, Joel, upon disembarking. We had heard rumors that you needed a guide to get into MP and anyways we thought it would be nicer to have and we were able to book one as part of a package that included bus, train, bus, park entrance and guide. We followed Joel down the train platform which ran perpendicular to the river. He showed us where we would need to board the train when we left AG and then showed us where our hostel was. We made plans to meet him the next morning for our trip up to MP, and said good night.

We went to Mapacho restaurant for dinner because they advertised they made their own craft beer. We got IPAs, of course. Their beer was surprisingly good! For food we ordered a trio sampler with three Peruvian dishes: trout ceviche (amazing!), a yucca ball in spicy sauce, and a potato with chicken salad on top. We also had to try Guinea Pig. Carl and I split one and they gave me the back end. It was so fatty and overcrisped that I could barely eat it. The meat that I could get out was good but I tried not to think about it, knowing I would never order it again because Guinea Pigs are too cute and I just wanted to say I tried it once. That night we watched emperors new groove to get into the Inca emperor mood. I had forgotten how funny it was, and also how little it had to do with Peru.

Monday, February 21

The big day. We met Joel outside our hostel and walked to the bus stop together. Some other tourists joined us, having taken the train from Cusco that morning. Some people see Machu Picchu as a day trip from Cusco but this would likely be the longest day of their life after a 2 hour bus + 1.5 hour train + 40 minute bus from Aguas Calientes up the hill to MP. It is possible to walk from AC to MP but it’s straight up and I think it would take about an hour.

Once at the top we paid 2 soles (.50 cents) to use the toilet because once you go inside the park you aren’t allowed to leave and re-enter. Obviously peeing on the UNESCO world heritage site is also frowned upon, if not illegal? Once inside, Joel stopped at many points to tell us about the natural area and the history of Machu Picchu. We learned that the site is surprisingly young, built around 1420 and abandoned about 1520, when the Spanish and their diseases were spreading through South America. The site was built by workers, not slaves, but they were paid in Coca leaves which helped them work harder and longer. Joel made a point that women and men were considered equals, both expected to do hard labor and fight and could also be well educated. He told a story about a famous female warrior who, after defeating her notorious enemy, bashed his head in and drank some Chicha out of a piece of his skull while shouting at the crowd to see who else wanted to try to fight her.

We took oodles of pictures and chased around the llamas a bit to try and pet them. I pet a baby one and it was ridiculously soft. We wound through one of the designated trail circuits before having to exit. All the while we walked there were few clouds in the sky and it was actually really hot-so much for that forecast!

We got down the mountain by bus and went straight to lunch. We went to a place next door to where we had been before which also advertised craft beer and Peruvian food. We had a big pile of trout ceviche and an Alpaca burger which was surprisingly good (but again, just ordered the one time to try it!). Aguas Calientes is primarily a tourist town and the restaurant prices definitely reflect it.

After lunch Carl and I went up to the hot springs for which the town is named after. We had read online that the timing to get into the springs was weird so when we showed up we were only allowed an hour, which was fine. What they didn’t mention is that the pools are a 15 minute walk uphill from the main entrance- always up! We changed quickly and found the hottest pool of 99 degrees. The water was a weird murky tan color and smelled slightly like sulfur but the hot water felt nice after all the walking around we had down that day.

Perhaps my brain is conditioned from a lifetime of swimming laps but after that time in the water I got hungry again so once we had showered we set out for more food and I covered Carl’s eyes when they showed the price. I ordered Trout tartar over avocado and it was sooo good. Worth the money.

Tuesday, February 22 (2/22/22!)

Carl and I woke up at 5:20am and tried to quietly pack our bags so as not to wake Karen. As we tiptoed into the hall she yelled out “have a nice hike guys!” at full volume. All the travel advice blogs say to get to the bus line 2 hours before your timed entrance into the park because of lines but this is not the case now. We were able to get on the bus immediately and then it seemed they were stalling to see whether more people would get on. After a short jostling ride to the top we were some of the first people in line. Despite the many guides yelling to us, offering their services, we did not need a guide and got in just fine. We explored circuit 4 of the city which then led us to the entrance of Waynapicchu, or Young Mountain, in the Quechua language. From the record logs at the entrance we noticed two people had entered up the trail before us but we soon passed them and so were the first to the top that day. The trail was like a giant staircase. Most of the steps were well spaced but some were so skinny that you had to trust the ball of your foot and hold onto the steel cable running along the sides.

The stone steps were slick from the fog. We passed by some old structures and argued over whether Bill the hermit lived on this mountain (obviously not because where would a hermit get the money to pay the workers to build such a house) or a family of astronomers (most likely answer because they’d want to be as close to the stars as possible).

We made it in about 45 minutes and could see nothing but white from the top. A staff worker made it up shortly after and we asked him which direction we should look down to see the old city walls. He pointed to an expanse of white that the rocks on top seemed to be pointed toward and gave us a look like “duh”. So we sat on these rocks and stared at the white, hoping the clouds would clear so we could get a glimpse.

Slowly, the fog shifted and burned away and we began to recognize the land markers we had seen the day before. The fog seemed to move from left to right and we waited for the moment the old city would finally be exposed. It seemed like the fog liked to cover the city. Even as everything else seemed to be clear, a patch remained over the focal point of the city. While we sat and waited for the perfect shot the couple we had passed came up and so did an older French man. We offered for him to sit on our rock. The six of us sat there in silence, awed by the mountains.

Then Carl stood up and asked the couple to take a picture of us. He whispered to them in Spanish “please take video because I’m going to ask her to marry me” and they said “we prefer to speak English actually” but they did agree to video. Then Carl awkwardly asked the old French man to move off the rock. Again he asked in Spanish and again the man said “I’d prefer to speak in English” but he seemed to get it and moved. Then Carl asked for my palm nut ring we had gotten in Colombia and he got down on one knee and asked me to marry him. Even though I knew it was coming I got really shy and he said he didn’t know why he was so nervous. I said yes, of course, and we invited the old French man back to our rock. The clouds seemed to fully open up then and we got so many great pictures of the city. A good omen indeed.

Walking back down the weather was hot and we could see the old city from new angles. Everyone we crossed asked how far until the end and whether it was hard and whether it was scary. We assured them it was worth it and advised to look up until you get to the top.

We opted to walk down the mountain rather than take the bus. We saved $24 but my knees were killing me by the end. Walking back into town we spotted a butterfly museum and popped in to check it out. The actual greenhouse wasn’t that impressive but we did enjoy the room with eggs, caterpillars, and chrysalises of many different species. The monarch had silvery chrysalises that blew my mind.

Back in town we met up with Karen at a cafe before grabbing our bags from the hostel and going to the train departure station. We were nearly first in line to board this time. The late afternoon light was perfect as we rode the train back to Ollantaytambo. We were so lucky to have almost no rain the whole time we were at Machu Picchu – during the rainy season!

From there we got in a van along with a group of about 12 Russian tourists. When we finally got to Cusco, the van dropped off the 12 in the downtown area. Then it was time to drop me, Carl, and Karen off at our hostel. We had given the company our hostel address before hand so I was so confused when it seemed we were driving in the exact opposite direction. I asked Karen and Carl, “should we tell them they are going the wrong way?” Karen said “no, they know what they are doing”. I saw Karen had a different location pinned on her map and asked her about it. She said there were two Chusay Rooftop hostels in Cusco and we were going to the other one. This didn’t add up because I knew Karen had stayed at the one I had the address for before we went to MP. I announced I was going to say something to the driver and Karen stopped me and handed me a card. She had painted (!) it while we were on the train and it said ‘happy engagement! I’ve booked you a nice hotel for tonight to celebrate!’ Shortly after we pulled up to the Paradis hotel. It was such a surprise. Karen said she wanted to make it more of a surprise but we were too nosy.

The hotel reserved us an hour of sauna time so we quickly got changed and went to the basement sauna. There was a huge pool with a hot tub and they had tables and chairs on fake grass like a cafe. We opted for the hot tub first and the bartender brought us complimentary drinks! They turned on ‘chill’ music which sounded like what they play in spas mixed with classical covers of pop songs. There were colorful LED lights shining on different areas – like a wooden balcony of fake plants- and my favorite part was a huge screen where they had projected an image of a moving waterfall. We moved into the sauna. I had never been into the sauna and it was a little intense for me – especially being at high elevation and probably dehydrated from the day already. After all this we decided it would be a good idea to eat dinner even though it was almost 10 and we weren’t that hungry. We shared a steak with potatoes and said ‘happy steakiversary’ one day early.