Son of a Nutcracker!

After Cusco, we headed for that part of Perú I had always assumed was fictional, perhaps from a Dr. Seuss story, Lake Titicaca. Do you know that there are people who live on an island made entirely out of reeds? In the middle of a lake. They decided, enough with the land. We will cut down some floating plants, stick them in the water and live. They were so poor that the Incan taxation system required from each family one reed filled with lice. I can only assume that this lice was then used as a military strategy to wreck havoc on the hairstyles of European conquistadors. We spent the night at a homestay on the Isla Taquila. It was a perfect pre-Christmas activity, as all of the men dress like Christmas elves. Close observation revealed their hat related mating rituals. Men wearing all red hats, with small, dully colored pompoms, are unavailable. However, a half red and white capped fellow, with large and brilliant pompoms can be pursued by women wearing four or more skirts, with two pompoms on their front and two on their back. Three pompoms to the side is a definitely no-no, obviously. It was just a relief to find an island filled with people who share my affinity for elfish culture.

We then made our way to Arequipa, rich in delicious food and elaborately planned nunneries, with wall colors set to inspire my new apartment. There, Maggie and I sadly said goodbye to Jack and Perú.

Now I ask you: What is the most extreme thing you have ever done? Swam with sharks? Bounced through a sea of jellyfish? Rode the South Australian current with righteous turtles? Well, I have recently done the most extreme thing I can think of. I rode a bus straight for thirty six hours. I am prepared to write a manual on the most effective bus sleeping positions, as well as a brief paper on the importance of Chinese Kung Fu movies on gender roles in Latin America (my favorite is definitely the one about the dog kung fu martial artist). On the bus with me were two girls, who journeyed seven hours longer than I. They were on a pilgrimage to see Madonna´s concert in Santiago. Which leads me to the question: How far would you travel by bus to witness the Sticky ´n Sweet tour? We had to rush down to meet Lyz in Santiago, halfway down the longest country ever. Upon arriving in Chile, Lyz was promptly arrested for possession of...raisins. $200 Fine. I'm not joking. It is not recommended that you carry GORP into this region; it is very hazardous.

I love Chile. They have figured out the followed extremely useful things: potable water, toilets that flush toilet paper, the marketing concept that bread with the brand name Ideal sells better than Bimbo bread, a metro system, daylight savings time, and how to grow the most delicious cherries. It is all very exciting. As Christmas arrives, so does the summer produce. We are spending our time at markets, shopping for strawberries, cherries, avocados and extremely inexpensive Cabernet Savignon. We are currently in Puerto Varas, playing in a sparkling lake that overlooks three snow capped volcanoes in a town that focuses on gourmet food and chocolate shops.

¿Lady?

After repeatedly seeing photographs in National Geographic of the Cordillera Blanca Mountains in Perú, I was determined to find my way there. It is not close to anything. Particularly, Ecuador. After approximately twenty four hours of bus travel, we finally found ourselves on the brief seven hour bus ride to Huaraz. Of course, after an hour the bus driver pulled into a non-town and declared lunch. This has been an irritatingly frequent theme on our journey. The entire bus was asleep and the driver started shouting - get up! Lunchtime! Leave the bus! We finally did as we were commanded to do and sat down for our first Peruvian meal in what appeared to be someone´s living room. A tiny woman came out and asked us if we wanted el menú. This seemed like a logical thing to ask for, so we said yes. Apparently menú in Peru doesn´t mean menu, but the daily meal. Of chicken foot soup. For the record, menú means menu in all of the other countries we have been to.

Jack flew into Lima and we demanded that he immediately find an overnight bus to meet us in Huaraz, the base town for trekking in the area. He brought with him the following things: the inability to speak Spanish, one headlamp with dead batteries, several requested clif bars, which he consumed on the plane, a sleeping bag, which he left at our hostel during our trekking expedition, and the inability to instantly adjust to high altitude. He was, overall, a real drain on all parties.

The year 23 got off to a rough start. I spent the day waiting for Jack´s recovery, while basking in high altitude sunshine, reading the New Yorker food issue he provided, watching a birthday slash human rights parade and gazing up at the mountains we would soon be wandering through. The next day, we embarked on the Santa Cruz trek, which is four days through the Cordillera Blancas. We had a guide, Abel and a dutch companion, Thea, who was referred to as Lady for the entire trek. ´Lady? Do you want bread with avocado?´The Coridllera Blancas are rather hideous. At one point Abel asked us if we wanted to do a side excursion, where we could see a turquoise lake fed by an enormous glacier, framed to
the left




by the Paramount Pictures logo and to the right by a mountain voted the most beautiful in the world, by some guys in Munich.



We have moved along through Lima and embarrassingly enough, flew to Cusco. We decided that it was the best bus to flight time ratio of all. One hour and 20 minutes of flying versus twenty seven hours ofbusing . What do you think? Here, we narrowly avoid being hit my miniature cars as we wander through old alleys past original Inca stonework housing hipster cafes. Jack has purchased at least seventeen winter hats. Our Thanksgiving dinner involved Alpaca, potatoes and delicious lamb. We were extremely thankful.