Goldin Migration

Until the last minute, we were all over the map, so to speak, about where to spend the final two weeks of our South American adventure. In the end, we landed on Pichilemu, Chile, which we chose for two reasons: it had a Spanish school and it was on the coast. Most Spanish schools in Chile are in Santiago or Valparaiso, neither of which were on our top-ten list for a repeat visit.

Despite our limited research and somewhat poor planning, Pichilemu (and the surf beach area to its north called Punto de Lobos) brought one happy surprise after another! The first came on our way into town. Believing (for reasons that are unclear in retrospect) that we had arrived at our rented cabin, we parked in a dirt driveway and walked onto the porch of a house. There, we heard piano music that stopped us in our tracks. A man came out and we asked him for directions to the reception area. He laughed, told us this was his house, introduced himself (Felipe), and pointed us in the right direction. We told him how much we were enjoying his piano playing, and he invited us to visit later that evening.

Visit we did, and after that, he invited us to rent a room in his stunning house for two nights. A very happy accident!

Felipe is a really interesting man. He works as a hydraulic engineer in Santiago, Chile for a Canadian company. He is also a talented musician and an avid surfer. He designed and oversaw the construction of his house in Punto de Lobo, where he spends his free days practicing music for hours on end and surfing when the waves are just right.

Shortly after meeting Felipe, we wandered to the Pichilemu Language School, and met the delightful Maria Paz, the school director, who became our Spanish tutor for a week-plus.

Through Maria Paz and her Spanish school, we arranged to have lunch at a home that runs as a hostel and takes in students from the school. Despite our rock bottom expectations, we fell in love and decided to move in for a week.

The couple on the left in the picture above met at Patty’s home/hostel in 2013 and married this year. Following a safari in South Africa, they were topping off their honeymoon with a return visit to Patty’s place.

Patricia Cristina, known as Patty, was previously married to a man named Patricio. Patricia and Patricio had two daughters, Patricia Sue and Patricia Paz, and one son named, you guessed it, Patricio. Patty is now remarried to Claudio. I noted I probably should have been the one to marry Claudio given the name, but she thought I would not like him much because he smokes! So we won’t be making that switch.

Patty has two house rules: no phones at the table and no garlic. She explained that although she is not alergic to garlic, she has a garlic phobia that has been handed down through the generations in her family. When Peter concluded she was therefore a vampire, Patty certainly didn’t deny it!

Both of Patty’s rules are strictly enforced. During our first lunch, one of her residents scurried away like a petulant teenager after pulling out her phone. And Peter accidentally unpacked a garlic bulb from a bag of our leftover groceries. The bulb immediately landed in the garbage.

When I asked about a key to our room, Patty said, “There are no locks in this house.” The only key I saw was for the communal bike lock. Indeed, due to wear, tear, and humidity, our bedroom door hardly closed, much less locked.

The comfortable community living, wall art and atmostphere at Patty’s house reminded me of my college co-op (but with a much broader age range and no chore chart). Patty cheerfully served three meals a day to anyone living in the house and to the many fans who stopped by seemingly at random for meals. Often if I asked how many people were expected for lunch or dinner, Patty would say she expected just a few, maybe six. The count was inevitably at least double that.

The house is filled inside and out with wall paintings created by artistic house guests over the years. The bunk room over the upstairs common area is often teeming with overnight visitors. Meals are joyful occasions where everyone lingers long after plates are cleared. Curiously, in contrast to the no phones rule, the television is usually on but not watched during meals.

Among the guests and relatives were several adorable children, and plenty of purportedly outdoor dogs and cats.

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As should be apparent by now, Pichilemu has a magical vibe (“un buen onda”). Its people are warm and welcoming, its black sandy beaches stretch for miles, and it is famous worldwide for its exceptional surfing. Although we did not partake in surfing, we enjoyed watching the surfers, and we even had the chance to see an international women’s surf competition.

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The below two pictures give you an idea of how long the beach stretches, as I pointed the camera in each direction from the same spot.

Though the water was icy cold and not suitable for swimming (at least, not for more than a couple minutes) without a wetsuit, we had a fabulous time walking and jogging on the beach, and taking in the views.

I found another excellent gym, where I took crossfit and “integral” classes.

To top it off, Pichulemu has a vibrant cultural center, which is a couple short blocks from Patty’s house.

We attended a few events there including two Chilean films, Mala Junta and La Vida Simplemente. When we showed up for the latter, we found that the film’s director and stars were present. The paparazzi pounced!

In search of a bit of privacy, we moved into a room in Punto de Lobos for our last three nights of this South American adventure. We enjoyed a final dinner at a lovely restaurant overlooking the water.

For our final day (today), we took a run on the beach and I had a (very, very, very) quick swim in the icy water. Then we stopped for a final lunch at Patty’s house. And on the way out of town, we ran into our Spanish teacher on the street (a good omen if I’ve ever seen one!). I hopped out for a hug and a selfie.

We came to Pichilemu cautiously, with a rental car as our escape hatch, intending to explore other parts of Chile if 6the town did not meet our expectations. No escape was needed, and after two weeks we still don’t want to leave!

But today we fly back to the United States. And that, my friends, marks the end of this trail!

For those who are interested, you can click on this map of where we’ve been during these four-plus, from Panama City in the north to Patagonia in the south. Thanks for joining us on this journey of a lifetime!

The icing on the cake of our South American adventure was our five-day tour in and around Torres del Paine, a Chilean national park in Patagonia (the southern tip of South America shared by Argentina and Chile; the “end of the world”). Peter took the below pictures during our flight and descent into the Puerto Natales airport, the launching point for the tour.

Torres del Paine is dominated by the spectacular, granite peaks of the Cordillera Paine mountain range. The picture below shows the Paine Grande in the middle (note the varying colors of granite) and the three “Torres del Paine” to the left.

The intensely colored rivers and lakes, whose bright hues reflect varying sedimentary deposits, add to the magic of the area. Check out all the colors!

Our five-day tour with Chile Nativo was our biggest splurge of this four-month adventure. We chose a trek that allowed us to stay in hotels (most involve either camping or bunk rooms) and that included hikes both outside the park and within the park’s famed “W” trail. It turned out to be even better than we hoped. First, as luck would have it, we were the only participants who signed up for the tour on our dates. And second, we won the leader lottery with the brilliant, passionate, warm, and fun Francisca!

Taken together, our two bonuses meant that we also had a built-in Spanish teacher. Despite her fluent (self-taught, of course!) English, we asked Francisca to speak to us almost entirely in Spanish. She obliged and helped us enormously with our language studies. I also provided some lessons in English vowel pronunciation, but it was in no way a fair trade for her!

Francisca has a degree in food engineering and has been a guide in Patagonia for six years. Her passion for the area was infectious! It was so much more fun to observe a mushroom or a small flower when Francisca was along, practically jumping out of her skin with excitement at each sighting.

We bonded quickly with Francisca and dubbed her our “Chilean daughter.” Our son’s birthday was on the second day of the trip, which was perfect because, as you may recall, we spent our daughter’s birthday in Ayampe, Ecuador with our “Italian daugher” Ilaria.

During the first two nights of our tour, we stayed in a hotel with a perfectly framed view of the Grey Glacier and its spectacular surroundings. In addition to taking some amazing hikes in the area, we rode in a boat to and around the glacier. The icebergs in the picture below floated up to the shore near where we boarded the boat.

The Grey Glacier itself was stunning and enormous.

Sadly, however, the glacier was less enormous and probably less stunning than it should be, thanks to us humans. The rate at which the glacier is melting has been accelerating rapidly in recent years, as depicted in the below graphic.

Though the icebergs likely multiplied for the same tragic reason, they too were srikingly beautiful.

And the boat ride itself was a blast!

After the boat trip we danced and blew our way back to a beautiful trail, lunch with a perfect vista, and a waterfall.

Day three was the longest of the tour, with a fifteen mile hike along the W trail. Again, each vista topped the last! Unforgettable!

Following our long trek, we took in this sunset from our next hotel!

On day four, we crossed the park, observed wildlife, and ended at an amazing ranch with some of the loveliest lodging we ever have experienced.

The final day was extra special. First, our tour driver Billy arranged to have us observe the shearing of the many (many) sheep on the ranch. The sheep were organized in waves, and one by one they were removed from the pit, held tightly, and sheared. Billy explained that ideally all of the sheep’s fleece is removed intact. The sheep seemed calm and unbothered through the process, though a few had some nicks on their bodies afterward. Billy said the nicks were not necessary and would not have happened with more careful shearing.

We then went out for our final hike, this time along a trail where pumas are known to run wild. Throughout, Francisca searched diligently for pumas, but in vain. We did, however, see this 2600-plus-year-old cave painting.

And this beautiful scenery….

Then, just as we were loaded in the car and ready to head back to Puerto Natales, one of Francisca’s friends alerted her that a puma and her three cubs were nearby. We drove over, parked our car next to a ranger who was tracking the big cats, and waited. And waited. Francisca’s over-the-moon excitement was in itself entertaining during the interim. And then out came this beautiful mama puma, followed by her three 11-month-old cubs.

And with that we bid farewell to Torres del Paine, spent a couple more days in Puerto Natales, and flew back to Santiago.

From the Santiago airport, we drove three-plus hours south to Pichilemu, a wonderful laid-back surf town with a small but mighty Spanish school. Our time here has been full of fabulous surprises and joyful moments, but those will wait for my next blog entry.

The pure joy of our son Eli’s November 23 arrival in Buenos Aires is captured on our faces in these photos, taken the day he met us.

After a gourmet lunch (courtesy of Peter), we headed out to explore the Palermo neighborhood in Buenos Aires, taking in its enormous urban park, Parque Tres de Febrero (commonly known as Bosques de Palermo), watching an international soccer match on TV in a local bar, and eating a traditional Argentinian steak dinner. Despite that he was just stepping off a nearly twenty-four hour journey, Eli did not miss a beat!

All of us were charmed by this row of restaurants under a railroad track. So of course we had to stop for some limeade.

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The next day, we took a self-guided tour of Buenos Aires by bicycle. The weather was spectacular, and, even though some of the sites were repeats for Peter and me, they were better still when Eli came along.

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On our final day in Buenos Aires, we (okay, mostly I) spent some time fretting (and consulting news sources and my Chilean contacts) about the situation in Chile. Per the news, a national strike was planned in the morning, just as we were scheduled to land in Santiago. Most people in Argentina (and one of my Chilean contacts) advised us not to go, but several others said we should press on (with caution). Aside from fretting and consulting, we enjoyed some down time in the apartment and a wonderful graffiti tour of Palermo.

The graffiti tour included a stop by this apt depiction of the dire situation in the United States. Relatedly, we learned a few days later, Chileans’ favored name for the U.S. president is “cabeza de piche” (“piss head”). Inspired by Chilean comedian Felipe Avello, they often troll POTUS social media accounts with various spellings of the epithet.

I offer my deepest apologies to the Joker and to Urine, both of whom justifiably should be quite insulted by these comparisons. And, spoiler alert, we made it to Chile.

Back to a happier topic, here is some more graffiti from the Buenos Aires tour.

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The municipality of Buenos Aires has also gotten into the graffiti act and has sponsored certain murals. Just in the best viewing spot for the below mural depicting a young woman taking a selfie (painted by Martín Ron), activists posted flyers (also seen below) asking why the government gives men a mural monopoly.

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In honor of these activists, I’ll end the graffiti tour portion of this blog with one for the team! The below mural is painted by Josefina DiNucci.

And here’s Eli, taking in our last day in Buenos Aires and cooking up a storm.

With that, we concluded our three fabulous weeks (P&C)/three fabulous days (E) in Argentina. On Tuesday November 26 we headed to Chile.

Despite fears of a national strike, we landed and drove to our first stop in Viña del Mar without incident.

Notably, Viña del Mar was not the plan. For many years, I have longed to visit Valparaiso, a small coastal city that lies to the north of Santiago and is known for its colorful bohemian architecture and culture. But with the tension and conflict that has befallen the country, it is not, as nearly every Chilean warned, “recomendable” to stay there. So we opted for its twin city next door, Viña del Mar. But the next morning, we headed off to tour Valparaiso, aiming to return prior to commencement of the daily mid-afternoon protest, which all too often involves violence by police and/or protestors.

The below staircase area in Valparaiso’s Cerro Alegre (“Happy Hill”) declares “We are not hippiest. We are happiest.”

But even in Cerro Alegre, all is not happy at the moment as reflected by the popular protests. And across Chile, hundreds of protestors have suffered severe eye injuries, including blindness, caused by police-fired rubber bullets and tear gas. The injured eye has become a movement symbol featured prominently in slogans, graffiti, and street art.

After touring the relatively calm Cerro Alegre, we headed down an “asensor” (elevator, or funicular) to Plaza Sotomayor to tour the central square before protest hour.

Down below, the city was quite gritty, its walls covered with political graffiti. The public art was even more grim.

After wandering through the center, we came upon this staircase next to another asensor. Without really knowing where it led, we headed up.

At the top, we wandered to a scenic overlook and began taking pictures. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed and briefly became concerned about two men walking toward the overlook, but I quickly convinced myself not to worry. Then one of them approached me, squatted down, and broke a glass bottle on the curb some ten inches from my feet. Glass shattered, and for a moment I wondered if this was somehow connected to the protest movement. Then I saw the weaponized bottle and heard the man yell “la mochila” (the backpack) to his friend.

I am firmly of the belief that one should never hold onto property at the risk of physical injury. But instinct triumphed over reason. I grabbed my backpack (hard) and screamed the deepest, darkest, loudest, screamiest scream I ever did scream! The men yanked on my pack and I fell to the ground.

Peter and Eli were about 20 meters away from me (as were several other bystanders). Peter saw me on the ground, saw two men standing over me, and heard my deep, dark, loud, screamy scream. He ran toward me with what I can only imagine was quite the killer look in his eyes. The men let go and ran up the hill.

Peter and I (okay, especially—most especially—I) stepped over that fine line between bravery and stupidity, but luck saved us! Since that time, I have heard stories of people whose faces were slashed or even who were killed in similar incidents. I have not stopped thanking my lucky stars! And now that I’m “practiced,” I hope will do the smart thing and let go if this ever happens again.

We had planned to leave Valparaiso and Viña del Mar that afternoon in any event, but after the bottle/backpack incident, we headed out post-haste. On the way, Eli and I took a moment to unwind on the sand dunes that border Viña and the Pacific.

Our next stop was in Zapallar, a small and very tranquil beach town north of Valparaiso and Viña del Mar. We stayed in Casa Wilson, a charming mansion turned bed-and-breakfast. Casa Wilson is run by the late Wilson’s grandson, Samuel, who was quite the gracious host. The peace was a welcome respite after our Valparaiso run-in.

Finally, we headed to Santiago. Again, while we normally would have stayed in the center, we opted instead for an upscale, nondescript neighborhood (Los Condes) on the advice of our Chilean contacts. Like Valparaiso, the central areas in Santiago are covered in graffiti related to the protest movement.

Sadly, the beautiful building that houses the fine arts museum is now covered on all sides in graffiti.

For our final day in Santiago, we opted to head for the hills, where we climbed to the top of Cerro Manquehue. Especially at the top, the gravely ground and steep incline were challenging, but well worth the effort!

And on December 1, we bid goodbye to Eli, but this time only for three weeks! Although leaving this amazing South American adventure will be so very sad, I am hugely excited about seeing everyone in my life again, and, most especially, about reuniting with my two children. The four of us have not been together since early August. In honor of my anticipation, here is an August picture of me in my “happiest place.”

This blog entry ends on December 1, but due to technical difficulties, I am only now posting it on December 8. In the meantime, we have completed an ecstatically fabulous 5-day trek through Torres del Paine in the Chilean side of Patagonia, which I am saving it for my next blog post. Here’s a little teaser, though…

Travel always warps my sense of time, but the effect has been particularly prounounced during these past weeks in Argentina. Our pace has slowed considerably since our arrival. Days slip through our fingers, while weeks linger on. Sort of the mirror image of raising children, when, as they say, “the days are long and the years are short.”

We have spent leisurely hours wandering the streets of Buenos Aires, visiting a few museums and sites, walking and biking through beautiful neighborhoods, and too often helping ourselves to ample Argentinian lunches, which we then sleep off in mid-afternoon siestas. During one telephone conversation, our very busy son asked, incredulously, “Wait, you’re tired from … lunch?” But in our defense, an Argentinian lunch is undeniably exhausting. The pictures below should give you an idea. Especially if you add Mendoza malbec.

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During one walk through Buenos Aires’ San Telmo market, just days after Evo Morales was ousted from office in Bolivia, we came upon this Argentinian artist drawing a chalk portrait of the now former Bolivian leader.

Despite that we have been in Argentina far longer than we were in Bolivia, the dramatic and frightening events in Bolivia continue to capture my attention. Exactly one week after Peter and I left Bolivia, the military forced President Evo Morales to resign, confusion reigned, and chaos descended. For all his flaws, Evo Morales represents progress and possibility to many people, and in particular to many indigenous people throughout the Americas. Today, the outlook for Bolivia seems grim. The process of overthrowing the government has unleashed racism, given rise to a repressive interim regime, and led to a rising death toll. Peter and I were heartbroken to leave this startlingly beautiful and endlessly intriguing country prematurely, but it was the right call. During the days following our departure, the United States consulate in Bolivia ordered diplomats to shelter at home, warned of airport blockages and gasoline and food shortages, and bumped Bolivia’s travel advisory first from level two (exercise increased caution) to level three (reconsider travel), and then from level three to level four (do not travel). I only hope constructive Bolivian activism and the international spotlight will bring positive change before more tragedy ensues.

In the meantime, incongruously, we have moved on with our journey, and are enjoying the peace and beauty of Argentina. But even here, “hope” is in peril. Buenos Aires’ iconic Floralis Genérica sculpture, designed to open and close with the sun to represent hope reborn each day, still shines bright and, as you can see below, is beautiful. But the cash-strapped government has not paid for the sculpture’s upkeep, and the mechanical parts needed to enact hope’s daily rebirth are out of order.

Argentina is experiencing its own turmoil, but we are visiting during a (relative) lull in the storm. And in any event Argentina’s storm is quieter than those erupting in its neighboring countries. In late October, center left Alberto Fernández (a “Peronist”), defeated conservative President Mauricio Macri. Fernandez takes office December 10. And so our visit coincides with Argentina’s lame duck period, and we have found people are in something of a wait-and-see mode, hoping that Fernandez will be able to tackle Argentina’s recession, high inflation, sinking currency, and increasing poverty, but also understanding the challenges ahead.

During our first full day in Buenos Aires, we enjoyed a delightful bicycle tour with BA Bikes. New (to me) travel tip: we were able to book the tour at half price through Airbnb’s “experiences” offerings. The tour took us through many of Buenos Aires’ beautiful neighborhoods and included a visit to the Floralis Genérica sculpture pictured above. On one intriguing stop, we walked through the mausoleums and towering tombs in the French-influenced Recoleta Cemetery while our guide told us what he called “creepy stories,” including one about Argentina’s beloved Eva (“Evita”) Peron, whose remains were entombed there decades after her death.

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The cemetery, in my death-denying mind, provides its own “creepy story” with its Latin messages on the way in and out. The message on the entrance, from the living to the dead, reads “Requiescant in Pace” (rest in peace); on the exit, from the dead to the living—”Expectamus Dominum” (we are waiting for the Lord).

Buenos Aires is a huge, vibrant New York-sized city with Los Angeles weather, Italian and French inspired food and architecture, well-managed traffic flow, great bike paths, ample green spaces, and friendly people. Peter and I are officially in love with BA!

Between exploring the city and sleeping off large lunches, we hired Franco Liotta, the young adult son of our Airbnb manager, to continue our Spanish tutoring. Franco is a student of philosophy and linguistics, and he weaved his passion for word roots into our lessons. Of course, we had to celebrate over lunch!

I also enjoyed meeting with two Argentinian human rights attorneys and professors, who I met through Noah Novogrodsky. Noah is a law professor at the University of Wyoming and runs the human rights clinic founded by my stepfather, Bob Golten. Both professors were kind enough to speak to me in Spanish throughout our time together despite their exceptional English. Robert Saba’s book (below) addresses concepts of equality with a focus on constitutional law in both Argentina and the United States. It is popular enough to be available in major bookstores. I am slowly trying to make my way through it.

Peter and I took three short excursions from Buenos Aires during our weeks in Argentina. First, we took a day trip to Colonia del Sacramento, Uruguay, which is a short ferry ride from Buenos Aires.

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Second, we rode this boat to Tigre for our overnight stay in the Delta Eco hotel. Tigre is a town on the Paraná Delta, not far from Buenos Aires in distance (but very far in atmosphere). Most of the other hotel guests were “porteños” (residents of Buenos Aires) escaping the city for a night or two.

The hotel provided a very peaceful one-night retreat, with all meals included, kayaks, massages, a pool, and killer scenery. They took my celiac diet extremely seriously, with delicious results.

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Our third get-away was an amazing surprise. In anticipation of this leg of the trip, my father asked some of his Argentinian friends for travel recommendations for us. One of those friends was Dani, a very successful Argentinian entrepreneur who met my dad more than twenty years ago when he was a young intern at TCI in Colorado. (Dani can’t say enough about how well my dad treated him at the time, including regularly supplying breakfast and coffee for their ride from Boulder to Denver). In response to my dad’s general email inquiry, Dani offered to let us stay in his family lake home in northern Patagonia. Fittingly for a couple Colorado travelers, I suppose, it turned out the most convenient place to meet with Dani to discuss his amazingly generous offer was during at a Buenos Aires country club celebration ofVail’s ski season opening day. Go figure!

Dani’s Patagonia house was simply lovely. For just a small taste of the amazing views, here is what we saw from the living room window!

And here is the view inside.

We enjoyed a beautiful 12K hike nearby along an impeccably maintained trail, which weaved through towering and fantastic trees. Toward the beginning of the hike, the trail included two side paths to the most amazing scenic overlooks (below).

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After the hike, we took a scenic 45-minute boat ride back. This beautiful creature flew alongside the boat for a good while.

Now, we are back in Buenos Aires, where our son Eli will join us today! At this point, the plan is to spend three days with him here, and then fly to Chile for a road trip.

We are keeping a close eye on the situation to the west, however. Chile has been in upheaval since October 18, when the government increased subway fares and sparked a long-brewing fury about gross inequality and a constitution written during the Pinochet dictatorship (which lasted from 1973 to 1990). The protestors’ frustration is summed up in one of their slogans: “It’s not thirty pesos, it’s thirty years.” The government has made concessions since the protests began, reversing the fare hike, agreeing to a constitutional convention, changing the President’s cabinet. But protests have not abated. Some protests have been violent (including burning subway stations and even a hospital). Two days ago Amnesty International accused the Chilean security forces of a deliberate policy to injure (and even torture and sexually abuse) protestors. The government, predictably, has issued a strong denial. Michelle Bachelet, the United Nations High Commissioner on Refugees and former Chilean president, said the United Nations would issue “a broad diagnosis and recommendations.”

In the meantime, more strikes are planned for Monday. Our flight to Chile is Tuesday, and our flight out (and back to the United States) is a month from today. Watchful waiting continues.

Bolivia! Its scenery is mind-blowing, its culture diverse and intriguing, and its civic engagement inspiring.

In just one week, we enjoyed the shores of Lake Titicaca from Copacabana; we spent the night on Isla del Sol, the car-free “birthplace” of the Inca culture; we took in La Paz from the ground and from the green, impactful, and beautiful cable car system (winner of the 2018 LatAm Smart City award for sustainable urban development and mobility and one of five finalists for the 2019 World Smart Cities Awards in Mobility); we observed intense civic engagement supporting and opposing the hotly disputed reelection of President Evo Morales; and in the end, due to concern about said civic engagement and its impact on our own mobility, we left this amazing country sooner than anticipated. Below is a brief slide show with shots from each of our four stops.

We journied from Peru to Bolivia by overnight bus. Though we were not warned when we purchased the tickets, it turned out our overnight bus dropped several of us off just before the border at a particularly unattractive spot filled with a trash-a-plenty. We were skeptical that, as promised, a van would appear in five minutes to pick us up. But five minutes later, there it was!

The van then dropped the group off again to walk through the border area (see the first picture above), obtain our exit stamp from Peru and our entrance stamp from Bolivia, and board another (very crowded) van to Copacabana.

Copacabana, at 3841 meters (12,600 feet) above sea level, sits on the Bolivian side of Lake Titicaca, which spans between Peru and Bolivia. Lake Titicaca is both the world’s highest altitude lake and South America’s largest freshwater lake. The town is chock full of hostels, mediocre restaurants, stunning vistas, and boats.

My first day in Bolivia was a bit rough, as my lingering cough made it more difficult to breathe at altitude. But we rested up in a fantastic hotel, and I awoke the next day finally feeling like myself again.

We stayed in the Las Olas hostel, which featured wonderfully whimsical architecture and a multitude of spots from which to take in the incredible views.

From Copacabana, we took a boat to spend the night at Lake Titicaca’s Isla del Sol (Island of the Sun), which is known as the birthplace not only of the sun itself but also of the Incan people. According to one Inca creation story, Manco Capac and Mama Ocllo, the founders of the Inca dynasty, were sent to earth by the sun god, and appeared on Isla del Sol at the site where the below temple was later built.

Today, Isla del Sol is populated by indigenous communities and a healthy number of foreign visitors. The island has no cars, and people use donkeys to haul goods up its steep paths. The donkeys below are loaded up and ready for action.

The island is small and relatively easy to navigate without cars.

Unfortunately, just as I regained my strength, Peter lost his, finally succombing to the cough and cold he had been fighting off for weeks. It was my turn to enjoy a sensational hike while he slept.

For the past couple years, a dispute has brewed between inhabitants of the southern and northern sections of Isla del Sol, and, as a result, tourists are not permitted to cross between the two. My understanding is that the trouble stems from something of a turf war over tourist dollars, as well as an argument about who did or did not build hotels over sacred ground.

As directed by those in Copacabana, we visited and stuck to the southern side of Isla del Sol, but I later read that there is a way to go directly to the north end, which may be even more interesting. But the south side was pretty great!

After visiting Isla del Sol, we took a crowded boat (pictured below) back to Copacabana, where we then hopped a taxi for La Paz.

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The road from Copacabana to La Paz required crossing a narrow strait along Lake Titicaca, where rickety platform boats carried vehicles and passengers. When I sent my daughter pictures of the boat, she asked if I panicked. I was proud to report that I did not!

We were most pleasantly surprised by La Paz, which is the highest “administrative” capital in the world, at least 3500 meters (about 11,500 feet) above sea level. The reason for the qualifier is that La Paz is the seat of the executivie and legislative branches of Bolivia’s government, but its “official” capital (and the seat of its judicial branch) is in Sucre (which we visited next).

Our minds were blown by the incredible Teleférico transportation system in La Paz. The world’s largest urban cable car system, it currently includes 10 lines, 31.6 kilometers and 37 stations. It runs in part on solar energy, and services some of the city’s poorest communities, for whom commute times have been slashed from an hour to ten minutes. In the words of theTelegraph, “the cable-car makes all other forms of public transport seem obsolete, as well as very boring.” And the system has only grown since the Telegraph article was written!

In addition to providing clean, fast, and inexpensive transportation, the system offers the best possible views of the city and surrounding mountains.

In contrast to Copacabana and Isla del Sol, which seemed fairly insulated from the current political strife in Bolivia, the situation was clearly impacting the rest of the country. On the way from Copacabana to La Paz, we passed by a fair amount of pro-Evo Morales signage and graffiti.

Evo Morales is the first indigenous leader of Bolivia (whose population is approximately half indigenous). He is a prior union leader for the coca industry, which, despite United States concerns about drug trafficking, plays an important role in Andean culture. For milennia (and continuing today), Andeans have used coca leaves for a variety of medicinal and religious purposes.

Though the country is sharply divided (sound familiar?), many Bolivians acknowledge nuance. They explain that Morales contributed significantly to the well-being of the country by reducing poverty, creating consequences for discrimination, and promoting economic development. At the same time they lament that of late Morales has become increasingly authoritarian and corrupt. Many of the activists are not necessarily in support of Morales’ primary opponent, former (also corrupt) president Mesa, but they are deeply opposed to Morales’ continued rule.

In addition to the suspect way the vote count unfolded, people are upset that Morales ran for re-election in the first place. The new constitution that Morales himself put in place prohibits presidents from running for more than two terms, but Morales just ran for his fourth. He justified the third on the grounds that his first occurred when Bolivia was still the “Republic of Bolivia” and not the “Plurinational State of Bolivia” as it is now. As for the fourth, Morales requested a popular vote a couple years ago to authorize his repeated run. He lost. But he then took his cause to the courts, which ruled that he had a “human right” to run again. Sounds crazy. And then I remember Citizens United.

On Thursday (Halloween) multiple civic groups supporting Morales’ opponent Mesa (or, at least, opposing Morales) convened in La Paz. We did not encounter them, nor did we witness any of the violence that ensued, but we did pass by a pro-Morales march, pictured above and below.

Also on October 31, we took a fascinating walking tour, beginning in San Pedro Plaza next to the San Pedro prison. The guides (pictured below) began the tour with a long discussion of the inmate-run prison, which has been supported by a cocaine-based economy. In the prison, inmates must pay rent, families can reside with the prisoner, and an underground prison tour industry has thrived.

The guides provided a colorful (if likely apocryphal) explanation of the traditional outfits worn by indigenous Bolivian woman. Per the guides, the long multi-layered skirts worn by many Bolivian women are designed to accentuate their hefty builds and coquettishly hide their sexy thick calves. Men who wish to flirt with one of these women, the guides claimed, often throw small stones around her feet. When she then scampers away to encourage a bit of a chase, he continues along. At the end, our guides added, if the woman is pleased with her pursuer, she will flash some calf.

The guides then went on to explain the placement of these women’s traditional bowler tall hats that totter atop their heads. Per various urban legends, the hats caught on after a large shipment of hats intended for Europeans turned out to be too small, were sold to Bolivian women and became a lasting trend. I volunteered as a model for the tour’s hat explanation. Purportedly, a centered hat means the woman is married, while a hat tilted to the side indicates singledom.

The next stop on the tour was the main square. But due to the dueling protestors there, the square was blocked by police. Unfortunately, try as she might, our guide was unable to talk the police into letting our tour enter.

Later in the day, Peter and I were admitted on our own, with a most clever tactic: we answered in the affirmative when the police asked if we were tourists. By the time we entered, protestors had moved along and we found the square to be underwhelming after all that effort.

The protests did not deter children from coming out to trick-or-treat for Halloween. This girl stood outside the lobby to our hotel, where candy was distributed to trick-or-treaters.

I love the mix of cultures in Bolivia. Not far from the business center of the city sits the Mercado de las Brujas, or the Witches’ Market, where medicinal herbs and sacrificial llama fetuses and babies are sold alongside the usual tourist fare (tshirts, sweaters, blankets, and the like).

Even more striking (to me) are the indigenous symbols featured on the reliefs on the Catholic Basilica of San Francisco in the center of La Paz. Below is an image from the outer church wall depicting the Inca earth goddess, Pachamama, giving birth to a flower.

We also enjoyed the dining scene in La Paz. Below, I tasted llama for the first time—as a tartar on a cracker.

La Paz also offers another form of entertaining visitors: an opportunity to rapel down this building dressed as one’s favorite superhero. We did not partake.

After visiting La Paz, we headed to Sucre by plane. As mentioned above, Sucre is the constitutional capital of Bolivia and houses the judicial branch. It is nicknamed “La Ciudad Blanca” due to its whitewashed colonial buildings. And it was at a refreshingly low 9,000 feet (2,800 meters) above sea level!

Sucre also happens to be more of a hotbed of anti-Morales activism (though we also saw a smattering of pro-Morales signs). The opposition activists successfully shut down most of the city. Schools and universities have been closed for weeks, and it appeared a good 75% of businesses were shuttered. In seemingly random fashion, various streets throughout the center of Sucre were blockaded, accessible only on foot or by motor scooter. Our taxi driver took us most of the way into town from the airport, but had to stop a couple kilometers from our final destination as the streets became impassable. We headed down the hill with our baggage and walked to the hotel.

The “Prem” restaurant pictured below on the left was recommended to me, as it purportedly offered gluten-free delights, but like most of the city’s businesses, it was shuttered closed.

Once in the city, we were able to appreciate the positive side of the blockades, as it was lovely to walk around with no cars on the streets.

The blockades themselves were fascinating and were constructed from a variety of materials, ranging from crime-scene type ribbon to flags to furniture to bricks and large stones to cars. Most were manned by a couple of activists sitting calmly to the side. Despite that some blockades were pretty flimsy, everyone respected them.

On a few occasions, the activists manning an individual blockade would facilitate a vehicle’s passage. No one attempted such a feat without first asking permission.

The spirit of the activists was inspiring. We heard no compliants. We saw no acrimony. But we also saw no end in sight. When asked how long the blockades and strikes would likely go on, people calmly stated, “Until the President leaves office.” They exuded a quiet confidence that they will prevail. The civic engagement and faith in the process was inspiring. We certainly could use some of that in the United States. And yet we saw no signs that Morales intends to give in.

On Sunday, we learned that the activists intended to intensify the blockades and their grip on the city beginning at midnight. Concerned that we may end up unable to leave for quite a while, we made the last-minute decision to head to Argentina. We found a flight that night out of Santa Cruz. Unfortunately, we had to spend the eight hours between flights in the small ill-appointed airport, because the city of Santa Cruz, too, was impassable.

We have ten-year Bolivian visas now, and there is much more to explore. I am on the edge of my seat tracking the news out of the country, as I hope for a happy ending for all. I am certain I will be back.

But in the meantime, Buenos Aires set the stage for our first night in Argentina with the most incredible double rainbow either of us had ever seen!

More than six months ago, just after we finalized our decision to take this trip through South America, Peter and I booked a 5-day trek along the Inca Trail, culminating in a visit to Machu Pichu. The trek was to begin October 20 (which, even in the beginning of April, was the soonest available date). As our first firm commitment, the Inca Trail trek became the block around which we built the rest of our itinerary.

Although I was still a bit sick when we began the trek last Sunday, I was on the mend. The first day’s hike was the easiest, the first campsite was at the lowest altitude of the three, and optimism was in the air! We enjoyed our ten fellow travelers and the trip’s leaders and staff. The views were out-of-this-world beautiful. We were served exceptional meals in a “dining tent” complete with tables and chairs. And despite that 500 permits are granted daily to hike the Inca Trail, our group encountered no other hikers.

The first leg of the Inca Trail ran adjacent to the tracks for the train to Machu Pichu. For one terrifying 100 meter stretch, we had to walk along the tracks. Don’t worry, our guides assured us, the train engineers know to look out for pedestrians here. If they do show up, we were told, squeeze to the side and don’t take selfies! Minutes after our group cleared the tracks, a train whizzed by.

At one point the trail took us down an original Inca staircase (shown below).

Our tour company, Explorandes, provided a true luxury camping experience. Toilet tents and a large dining tent were set up for lunch and at each final campsite.

The first campsite was at the foot of the Patallaqta ruins, and we ended the hike with plenty of time to explore. Our group had the site to ourselves.

We watched a breathtaking sunset, ate a phenomenal dinner in the dining tent, and turned in for the night.

All was well, but I was not. My cough continued all day, I was unusually fatigued after the day’s relatively minor hike, and during the night I had coughing fits that made me feel short of breath. In the morning, I spoke to the group leader, who said he thought the coughing fits could prove quite dangerous upon reaching the high altitude trails and campsites to which we were heading. With plenty of loving prodding from Peter, I made the difficult decision to turn around. And Peter made the selfless decision to come with me.

But before we left, we enjoyed a final breakfast with the group and the tourists were introduced to the twenty staff who, along with our two leaders, made the fantastic trek experience possible by carrying equipment and food, setting up and breaking lunch and camp sites, and cooking and serving us.

Then the evacuation began. Octavio, one of the porters, was assigned to walk us down the mountain. Remember the sign I showed you above—no free-range tourists! As was the practice among most Inca Trail tours, he carried our personal duffel bags, our tent, and our sleeping bags.

During the hike down, we took a shorter and more populated (but also stunning) route. We passed by staff and hikers for nearly a dozen different Inca Trail trekking companies on the way.

At the bottom of the trail, we were driven to Ollantaytambo. By luck, we found the Initambo Hotel, which perfectly met my needs with comfortable beds, window views of Inca and pre-Inca ruins (and some spectacular landscape), and a third-floor terrace.

Other than lying in bed or sitting on the terrace, my activities were limited to several visits to a Peruvian doctor (who ordered four nebulizer treatments, and a pile of medications) and three trips for lunch to the Cuchara Llena restaurant, which opened onto the Intipaka ruins and kindly provided huge quantities of blended hot water, ginger, lime, and honey. The doctor diagnosed acute bronchitis, consistent with my brother’s conclusion following an exchange of just a few texts. Thanks, Matthew—glad to have my back-up doc at times like these!

Happily, Peter was able to have some adventures without me, including a hike to the top of the mountain behind the Intipaka Ruins and some soccer-watching festivities at a local bar.

On the fourth day of the tour, we were able to take a train to Agua Calientes, the tourist trap town that sits at the base of Machu Pichu, where we rejoined our Explorandes trekking group for their final night in a hotel. And on the fifth day, we toured Machu Pichu with our group.

The Inca ruins at Machu Pichu are considered as one of the top wonders of the world. And wonders they are! The surroundings are, well, take a look! And they are much more intact than other ruins, in large part because they were never discovered (or at least never destroyed) by the Spanish conquerers. Today, however, these ruins certainly have been discovered by the Spaniards—and everyone else on the planet!

So, at least we had days one and five. But clearly, days two, three and four were the best of the trek, climbing up steep, challenging, and breathtaking terrain, passing through cloud forests, encountering Inca ruins without any other tourists present. We were very sad to have missed out. I turned out to be quite ill, however, and I’m certain I would not have made it through the entire trek. I told Peter he could continue on without me, and I meant it, but I am truly grateful for his sacrifice and care.

Today, we are more than happy to say goodbye to Cusco, where we have spent far too many days. We are heading out on an overnight bus (with reclining seats and blankets) to Cocacabana, Bolivia, next to Lake Titicaca.

On our final day prior to catching the bus, we wandered the streets, happened upon a fascinating parade (in honor of a saint?), visited the Qorikancha museum, and, just to end on a truly exotic note, went to the mall to watch a dubbed (horrible) American movie and eat dinner at a Chili’s.

As we head to Bolivia, our timing is again not the best. Bolivia had an election on October 20. As expected, its two-term president, Evo Morales, came in first and Carlos Mesa, a more conservative candidate who is also a former Bolivian president, came in second. The controversy is over the point spread. Early unofficial counts showed Morales falling well short of the ten-point lead needed to avoid a runoff. Reporting of the count counting then stopped for a while, and suddenly official results showing that Morales achieved the requisite ten-point gap were announced. Morales has declared himself the winner with the courts’ backing, but Mesa has declared the count a fraud and is urging his followers not to accept the results. Rioting and strikes are continuing. The international community is taking sides, with the UN (as well as the United States, Argentina, Brazil and other countries) urging an audit of the vote count, and more leftist governments in Venezuela, Mexico, Nicaragua, and Cuba supporting Morales.

Fortunately, our first stop (Copacabana) is a fifteen minute drive from the border and seems to be unaffected by the strikes and riots. Our plan is to get there, enjoy Lake Titicaca, and assess the situation before deciding whether and how to continue our journey through Bolivia.

We can always skip ahead to Argentina or Chile. But of course Argentina, in the midst of an economic crisis, has its own controversial election tomorrow. And Chile has been erupting in protests and riots over a subway fare hike and economic inequality.

We knew from the outset that our adventure would not always follow the plan.

As it turned out, for a variety of logistical reasons, our jaunt to northern Peru lasted only 48 hours. But during that time, we took quite the journey back in time. First, we visited the Chan Chan ruins. Chan Chan was the center of the Chimú civilization, which existed between the ninth and fifteenth centuries, until it was conquered by the Incas around 1470.

In its day, Chan Chan spanned nearly 20 square kilometers, only a fraction of which has been excavated and opened to the public.

Chan Chan is a UNESCO world heritage site. According to Smithsonian Magazine, Chan Chan was at one point the largest adobe city on earth and the largest city in the Americas.

Our ticket to see Chan Chan included entrance to a museum dedicated to its history. Interestingly, the boats used at the time are still used by the fishing industry in Huanchaco today.

After Chan Chan, we took a leap even further back in time to visit the Huacas (temples) del Mocho, built by the Mocho civilization between 400 and 600 A.D. The site includes two temples: Huaca del Sol (currently not accessible) and Huaca de la Luna, which was in its day a ritual and ceremonial center and features striking friezes throughout.

Huaca de la Luna includes temple on top of temple, as each new emperor would entirely cover the prior emperor’s temple in order to make his mark with his own creation. Makes ordering new White House china look like child’s play!

As a final glimpse of northern Peru, I had to share this sign from Trujillo. It appears Jesus can do everything in this country, and takes Visa!

Following our whirlwind tour of northern Peru, we headed to Cusco, which was the heart of the Inca empire from around 1400 until its downfall at the hands of the Spanish. Unfortunately, the city has outgrown itself. The overwhelming number of tourists in the streets, the heavy traffic ill-suited to the city’s very narrow roads, the pedestrians confined to the slivers that count as sidewalks here, and the abundant droppings left by street dogs detract from the stunning beauty of the city. But nevertheless, the stunning beauty can be seen!

Just above Cusco sit the incredible Sacsaywaman ruins. These ruins have fascinated visitors and scholars for years, as they demonstrate the Incas’ remarkable architectural prowess and ingenuity. The walls are comprised of enormous stone blocks, perfectly aligned. The largest is said to be over eight meters high and to weigh over 350 tons.

Over the years, many have speculated about the size and placement of Sacsaywaman’s bricks, and theorized that the Incas could not have built the city without the aid of (take your pick) magic, aliens, gods, or devils. But I find the explanation in Peter Frost’s book Exploring Cusco to be the most intriguing and also the most likely. He writes, “There is a subtle, less obvious explanation of how the Incas were able to move vast stones. Their society was highly unified and well-nourished, they did not use slaves, their labor force was not reluctant, and their mightiest structures were dedicated to the deities which everyone worshipped. Thus an undivided focus of human energies may have accomplished what seem almost superhuman feats to we individualistic moderns.” (5th edition, p98).

As if the ruins weren’t exciting enough in and of themselves, there was also an adjacent natural “slide” in the rocks. Adults and children alike enjoyed the ride!

From Sacsaywaman, we walked up the next hill to view the Cristo Blanco (White Christ) that looks over the city. The statute was donated by grateful Palestinian refugees, though one of our taxi drivers told us it was donated by “the Jews.” Close enough!

We then walked down a very (very) long stairway passing through houses and ending close to our Airbnb. Along the way, the below sign was posted in several places. It reads, “This neighborhood is organized. All captured theives will be beaten, lynched, and burned.” On another occasion, I expressed my alarm about the signs to a local, who explained calmly that the police don’t take action in those neighborhoods and the people feel they have to take matters into their own hands. He noted he thought it unlikely anyone would actually be burned. So there’s that.

Unfortunately, for the past week-plus, we (especially I) have been under the weather. After a few days of convalescing in Cusco, I tried to rally and we took a road trip to see other ruins in the Sacred Valley. We saw some beautiful sites but I then landed back in bed.

The first stop was at Tipón (or T’inpoq in the original language), an Inca site built in the 1400s.

At Tipón, the Incas developed irrigation systems that were works of impressive engineering, beautiful artistry, and (according to our guide) rich symbolism. Per our guide, the two irrigation channels pictured below represented duality: male and female, sun and moon, stength and weakness, etc. The two channels then merge and produce four channels (their “children”) representing four seasons, four regions of the Inca empire, four directions and four elements of man

And here are the four!

The modern-day town of Tipón serves only one dish in its restaurants: cuy (guinea pig, very popular in Peru). The establishments are called cuyerias. We took a pass and went down the road to the next town, Pisac, for our lunch, an overnight stay, and a visit the next day to the most spectacular of the ruins we have visited to date.

Pisac was an Inca fortress and community that was abandoned when the Spanish took over the Cusco area. For a sample of its breathtaking beauty, see below (and above).

After touring these two ruins, my illness got the better of me. We checked into a hotel for a couple nights, and I hibernated while Peter continued to enjoy the wonders of the Sacred Valley. Here are some images from his hike. My view was limited to white pillows and blankets.

And now it is time to sign off, as Sunday morning we head off early to a five-day trek along the Inca Trail, ending at Machu Pichu. We haven’t stopped chasing history in Peru yet!

First, an update on the political crisis, which has settled down a bit since my last blog post. As I mentioned last week, on September 30 President Martín Vizcarra dissolved Congress. Initially, Congress decreed itself still in existence, and swore in the Vice President, Mercedes Aráoz, as Peru’s new President, despite that Vizcarra still considered himself to be in power and despite that Congress was, ostensibly, dissolved. With security forces and the military backing Vizcarra, the standoff dissolved, at least for now. Aráoz resigned, Vizcarra named a new cabinet, a 27-member “permanent committee” of congress will remain in place as a check on executive power, and elections are scheduled for January 26, 2020.

Though Peter and I waited for the dust to settle a bit on the political crisis before heading to Lima’s historic center, the center of the Plaza de Armas (aka Plaza Mayor), which includes the government palace and other important buildings, remained closed to the public when we visited on Friday October 4.

Throughout the week, our focus was again on Spanish study, this time at the Peruwayna school in the Miraflores area of Lima. A few notches above the four schools we attended in Ecuador, Peruwayna had more students, more qualified teachers, and a more professional feel. I was taught by Fabricio, a lawyer turned teacher who introduced me to new and wonderful nuances in the Spanish language.

We took advantage of several of the school’s programs, including a homestay, salsa dancing lessons, and a tour of the Ballestas Islands and Huacachina. As we did in Cuenca, we separated for the homestay in hopes of increasing our Spanish exposure, but in the end this goal was once again thwarted. Each of our homestays had other American students, so we may as well have been together!

By contrast, in salsa dance class, our decision to separate (though this time only across the room) worked out perfectly. We were each able to try out the new steps without having our missteps create any relationship issues at all. Brilliant!

Saturday’s Ballestas Islands/Huacachina tour, which was booked by the school, took us to some incredible sites, but our primary takeaway was in the form of “lessons learned.” Don’t go with an overly-cheap tour. If it seems like a tour is cramming in more than is possible in one day, it is probably so. And screaming on scary rides may encourage drivers to take still more risks!

During the 17-hour tour, our guide continually prodded us to go faster. At one point, I saw him duck into the women’s room, apparently to yell at some tour participants who were taking too long to take care of business. But between really long stints on the bus, we saw some incredible sites. First stop: A boat tour around the Paracas Peninsula and Ballestas Islands, which lack flora but are rich in fauna.

Nearby on the Paracas Peninsula at Pisco Bay sits the Paracas Candelabra, a prehistoric geoglyph thought to be well over 2000 years old.

People are not allowed to swim in the area nor to climb on the islands, so our tour was confined to the bone-rattling boat ride around the peninsula and islands. The driver repeatedly assured that his crazy driving was not his fault, that he was not trying to scare us, and that any problems were caused by the wind. I’m not entirely convinced that the crazy driving wasn’t also caused by the need for speed in order to cram in as many tours as possible. The whole thing felt like a thrilling roller coaster ride without the safety features! Despite the jolts and the frightening moments, it was fun and, along with our new buddies, we laughed and screamed our way through the ride!

Two of the other Peruwayna students on the tour, Brian and Sloan, are also from Denver. Even these twenty-somethings felt the impact of the boat ride on their backs!

After surviving the boat tour and eating lunch, we climbed back into the bus and headed for Huacachina, a tiny village featuring an oasis surrounded by enormous sand dunes.

We loaded into big dune buggies. Turned out to be yet another roller-coaster type ride, again without the safety features! One of our schoolmates hit her head on a metal bar on the way back, but otherwise we were unscathed!

The tour provided sand boards, but encouraged us to ride prone or sitting up if we were inexperienced in the sport. We complied!

Back in the city, we found plenty of adventure and intrigue. Even after the homestay was over, we stayed in Miraflores near our school, an upscale area in the Lima metropolitan area with beautiful public art along its stunning waterfront.

Another highlight in Miraflores: Huaca Pucllana, ancient ruins dating in their origin back to the fifth century, located in the middle of the urban center.

Next to Miraflores is colorful and vibrant city, Barranca. Though also part of the metropolitan sprawl that is the Lima area, Barranca has retained more of its prior small-town charm.

I will close with a few more images from Lima’s historic center.

In addition to planned stops to view churches and other famous sites, we happened upon the Casa de la Literatura Peruana, a delightful museum of Peruvian literature housed in a former train station.

We also encountered by chance a small museum featuring the art and biography of Peruvian artist, Julia Codesido. I could not stop staring at the photographs of her development from child to older woman.

As we explored Lima’s historic center, Peter snapped the below picture of me in flagrante delicto—that is, caught in the act of distraction.

But the truth is that I have found myself to be increasingly present and “in the moment” during these months of travel. Since leaving our home over two months ago, we have slept in some twenty beds, stumbled toward twenty bathrooms in the middle of the night, packed and unpacked, and hit repeat. Yet somehow I feel at “home” and at ease at each stop. Because of the blank spaces and flexibility we left in our itinerary, we have to take time to arrange logistics and decide on next steps. Despite this, I find myself letting go of thoughts of the past and the future. Perhaps more than ever, I feel I am living in the now!

But for those of you wondering about our next steps, I will report that we have twelve relatively unplanned days until our five-day Inca Trail trek to Machu Pichu, which begins October 20. Today we head to Trujillo to explore ancient ruins and see northern Peru. Until next time!

We closed out our six-week Ecuador adventure on a high note: a three-day biking tour through the Andes with the Biking Dutchman. Day one began with a drive up Cotopaxi, an active volcano whose peak stands more than 19,000 feet above sea level.

Our driver dropped us off at a point 4500 meters (nearly 15,000 feet) above sea level. From there we hopped on our bikes to take on what turned out to be the steepest descent of the trip along a dirt road strewn with rocks and volcanic ash.

My mountain biking skills are, shall we say, rusty. To be honest, other than riding around on dirt roads, I haven’t really gone mountain biking in a couple decades. Starting the trip with the most challenging descent was less than ideal for me. Within minutes I fell over my handlebars! I had only a some scratches on my knee and a tiny tear in my leggings to show for it, so I hopped back on.

After the fall, I nursed my inner coward. I was dead last on all downhill segments of the ride (though I will shamelessly say I was often at the front of the pack on the limited uphill and flat rides). Despite falling a few more times, the entire experience was spectacular and I loved (nearly) every minute of the three-day tour.

Further down Cotopaxi, we biked through lush landscapes, and ate lunch next to an Inca ruin (which was interesting, but not particularly photogenic).

That evening, we stayed at a cozy inn owned and run by an indigenous family in a town called Quilatoa, just next to a caldera on the Quilatoa volcano. Early the next morning, we hiked around part of the caldera. I am not sure I have ever seen a more lovely spot.

Just before the hike all of us indulged on a shopping spree in a store owned by this kind couple.

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And after the hike we hopped on our bikes again, rolling down dirt roads that weaved through local indigenous communities, and passed by sheep, llamas, alpacas, chickens, horses, and cows. On the way to our second hostel we stopped for ice cream, and Peter entertained everyone (including the store owners) by joining the sign-wavers trying to attract business.

Our second cozy hostel sat at the foot of another massive volcano: Chimborazo.

Day three was the best of all. We began with a short hike on the Chimborazo volcano to a point 5000 meters (16,400 feet) above sea level. Exhilarating!

Then beginning a few hundred meters down the mountain, we rode our bikes through sleet on a downhill dirt road that was, fortunately, not as steep as the one atop Cotopaxi. After lunch we concluded the day with a long ride on a paved road that passed through indigenous communities and lush landscape juxtaposed with barren cliffs.

Unexpectedly, we passed by a local rodeo.

And thus concluded the fabulous tour! I was sad to leave our new friends.

The bike tour was the main event this week. But before it began we had some good days in Quito.

We bid farewell to Quito by riding the TelefériQo Cruz Loma, a gondola lift that carries visitors from the edge of Quito up the Pinchincha Volcano. From the top of the lift we hiked, played on the swings, and very briefly met some new Chilean friends.

And so we closed out our Ecuador travels, at least for 2019. The three or four weeks we originally planned to spend in the country morphed into 44 days. Ecuador is a compact country, with a spectacular range of communities and geographical regions. Its mountainous terrain makes it time-consuming to travel between regions. We left with a long wish list of places remaining to visit.

And now we are in Lima, Peru, studying at the Peruwayna Spanish school and living with (separate) host families.

On a more somber note, our arrival in Peru coincided with a constitutional crisis here. President Martín Vizcarra requested a no confidence vote to occur yesterday. This would have been his second no confidence vote and as such apparently would provide constitutional grounds to dissolve the Congress, which is dominated by the opposition party. The vote stalled but Vizcarra nevertheless declared he had grounds to and was dissolving Congress. Though ostensibly dissolved, Congress deemed the action unconstitutional, voted to suspend Vizcarra on the grounds of his “permanent moral incapacity,” and swore in Vice President Mercedes Araoz as Vizcarra’s replacement. Staying tuned…

And, at the same time, I am feeling pangs of guilt at traveling the world and engaging in so much play while our own country enacts still more cruel policies and descends further into constitutional crisis. My solace is that my improved Spanish will allow me to serve more effectively as an attorney for immigrants in need upon my return. I find myself coming back to one of the many explanations for the breaking of a glass at the conclusion of a Jewish wedding: even at the height of personal joy, it is important to remember the pain and suffering of others, and that the world is in need of healing.

As hoped, week two in Cuenca afforded us more time to explore the area. Some of the week’s highlights hit us by surprise: a herd of alpacas all to ourselves; a celebration of the moon and the earth; amazing indigenous dances. Others were planned: biking through the city; hiking in the national park; a spa day; a dinner with Juliana and Pablo; two concerts; museums and churches; and of course, ongoing Spanish.

First, the surprises. Friday we headed to edge of the Cajas National Park to hike along and near Lake Llaviucu. During the hike, we came upon a herd of about a dozen alpacas. They allowed us to approach, and we spent a delightful half-hour in their company. No other hikers were in the vicinity. It was a truly magical moment.

The next day brought another surprise. During my Saturday morning jog, I ran into a parade filing into Parque de la Madre, featuring one colorfully-dressed group after another from throughout Ecuador.

I ran home to get Peter, and we returned to absolutely beautiful music and dancing in the park.

We learned this was all part of Killa Raymi, a celebration of the moon and the earth (and, of course, the fall equinox).

Then, to top the day off, we attended a free performance by the Cuenca Symphony Orchestra at the Pumpungo Theater.

Also free (and also fabulous) was the Pumapungo Museum and Archeological Park. The museum itself features ethnographic exhibits on Ecuador’s many indigenous cultures, an exhibit on the history of currency in the nation, and even a display of shrunken heads! Outdoors is an Archeological Park, right in the middle of the city, with pre-Inca (Cañari) ruins, some more llamas, and beautiful gardens spotlighting plants with medicinal properties.

Just down the street from Pumapungo, and just across the street from our rented house, was the oldest church in Cuenca: Todos Santos. The church was rebuilt at the beginning of the twentieth century on ground that previously hosted sacred pre-Incan, Incan, and Spanish spaces. An unusually informative guide led us through the church and up into the bell tower, where we were able to enjoy panoramic views of the city.

Back across the street, we continued to enjoy our peaceful escape in the middle of the historical center of Cuenca.

It was easy to stay active in Cuenca. It was chock full of Cross Fit gyms (which I’d never tried in the U.S.), beautiful paths along the rivers for jogging and biking, and of course, as mentioned last week, exercise equipment in virtually every public park.

On one of the most memorable of all of our nights in Ecuador thus far, we dined along the Tomebamba River with Peter’s host “parents,” Juliana and Pablo.

Today we returned to Quito, and checked into the same apartment we rented last month when we began our Ecuador adventure. After so much travel, it was nice to return to a familiar place.

From here, we will say goodbye to Ecuador with a guided 3-day bike tour through the Ecuadoran Andes, during which we will visit three massive volcanoes—Cotopaxi, Quilotoa, and Chimborazo. Then it’s off to Peru….