Crochet rest

From Wikipedia:

A rest is an interval of silence in a piece of music, marked by a symbol indicating the length of the pause. Each rest symbol corresponds with a particular note value.

The quarter (crotchet) rest  may also be found as a form  in older music.

I mention the crochet rest because that's what I'll be taking from this blog - about a quarter of a year's worth of rest. I took a similar one back in 2010 and the reason is exactly the same: I'm in India! And methinks India is such a grand adventure that it deserves its own blog. So I shall be focusing on my other blog, www.jadorebangalore.blogspot.com, for the time being. That's not to say I won't update this one, just that it likely won't be the primary host of my posts for the next three months or so. 

So scoop up your friends (and kitties), grab your hot caffeinated beverage of choice and head on over to my India blog! I'll meet you there with some stories to share.

The Peru Diaries part six: Jungle Fever

I was on such a roll with these Peru Diaries posts. But then I got pulled into recruiting stuff at work and spent Labor Day weekend in Michigan so blogging took somewhat of a backseat to Grace Hopper resumes and jet skiing. But I am back! With a vengeance! Onwards!

We arrived in Puerto Maldonado bright and retroactively speaking, too early. The flight was short and was basically an eastern descent from the mountains back down to sea level. Going from high-and-dry Cuzco to low-and-startlingly-humid Puerto Maldonado took some adjustment (and freaked my hair + skin out). I hadn't had such full, big breaths of air in a while. Nor had I seen so many bugs. Or sweated so profusely. Even my Asian genes, to which I usually attribute my relative low propensity to sweat, were helpless against the perspiration situation. 

Upon landing, we met our Explorer's Inn driver and hopped into a van. Since we had arrived much earlier than the other folks in our group, we were taken to downtown Puerto Maldonado, where we made a beeline for ice cream (a must in any new town) and strolled around. A couple of observations about DTPM: there's a big ole bridge that's reminiscent of the Golden Gate bridge, you can pose with a large stuffed tiger/leopard for one sole (roughly the equivalent of $0.50), and cab rides are available by motorcycle. Huh.

Maybe Uber should get into the motorcycle taxi market

Afterwards, we headed back to the office of Explorer's Inn, which was about a fifteen minute drive, to wait. The office was part of a small home to a family of three that also housed a plethora of farm animals all hanging out and basking in the sun. 

 Naturally, I made a beeline for the feline.

We also encountered an avian friend while waiting in the office.

Chirpchirpchirpchirpchirpchirpchirp

This little... thing wandered in, bobbing its head and chirping up a storm for the entire hour or so that we spent in his company. He'd wander off into a corner of the room and the chirps would grow softer and softer, then disappear altogether, and just when I was convinced that he'd either a.) been stepped on or b.) had died of malnutrition after having had all his energy consumed by his soliloquies, I'd hear CHIRPCHIRPCHIRP and see him running out, stumbling about awkwardly and flapping his little winglet nubs and screaming with renewed gusto. It made for surprisingly good entertainment. Then his mother came wandering into the office, searching for her baby....on a computer desk. Despite her clucking and his chirping and them being within a 20-foot vicinity of each other the entire time, neither party seemed to recognize each other. And that is when I concluded that chickens are not very intelligent creatures.

"He's in the computer."

The remainder of our party - a nice British couple on their honeymoon - soon arrived and we set off for the Tampopata River. We were also joined by an old, silent man who rode with us in the van and who would fall asleep in the silliest of positions/settings. We later found out that he was a village shaman. The first time I noticed this phenemonon, we were all in the back of a van traversing a dirt road that resulted in us being jostled violently about - and yet there he lay, unmoving, his wrinkled eyes closed, his expression calm the entire time as we spalunked this way and that throughout the unpaved road. I seriously thought there was no way somebody could sleep through all of that and reached the conclusion that he had died. But I was proven wrong - as soon as our van stopped, he blinked open his eyes, looked around, and got up. Thus, we nicknamed him Jesus.

The boy giving me a grin as we boarded our boat to Explorer's Inn

 Jesus falling asleep (again) on the boat

The boat ride lasted for about an hour. At one point, our tour guide Jhin curiously looked over at my camera.

Jhin: "What type of Canon is that?"

Me: "A rebel T3i."

J: "And the lens?"

M: "Just the standard 18-55mm that comes in the kit."

J: "Did you bring any other lenses?"

M: (feeling like a complete noob) "Errr...no..."

J: (reaching into bag) "Here, use this."

He then handed me a beautiful zoom lens that cost more than my entire dSLR. I was floored. Imagine you've never had ice cream in your life before. After months of carefully saving up and doing research, you buy yourself your very first cone and get just the most humble variety - one scoop of vanilla on a small sugar cone. You've taken your first few licks and are still in the process of savoring the rest of it, all the while still having difficulties digesting the fact that you're actually having ice cream!!! - and then some Peruvian man comes out of nowhere, upgrades you to a waffle cone, plops two scoops of Chunky Monkey on top and covers the damn thing with chocolate syrup and fucking rainbow sprinkles. That's how I felt as I nervously attached Jhin's lens to my T3i and peered through my viewfinder, shocked by the whole new world I was seeing through it.

Jhin let me borrow the lens for the entire time I was in the rainforest, which looking back was pretty darn incredible considering how valuable it was and how little we knew each other. It was also very good timing, since most of the photos of wildlife required some epic zooming. Throughout my time in the jungle, I learned a ton from Jhin about my camera's capabilities, strengths and weaknesses. For me, the trip was worth it alone from a dSLR learning and practicing perspective.

But the nature was pretty darn nifty too. Part of Explorer's Inn agreement with the wildlife/conservation program of the Peruvian government mandated that they wouldn't do anything that would have adverse effects on the environment. As a result, everything was in its simplest, most rudimentary form. The food we ate was grown nearby. The chairs were made of wood from fallen trees. There was no electricity in our huts and we showered in natural spring water in the dark. Critters of all kinds hung out nearby - and we understood that we were not to feed nor disturb them or really interact with them in any way other than observe them from a safe distance. (At one point, we had a close encounter with a bullet ant - a fellow whose bite causes 24 hours of pain akin to that caused by a bullet wound, hence its nomenclature. Jhin did not kill it. Instead, he gently lifted it with an oar and moved it out of our canoe so that it could scamper off, leaving the rest of us were mildly horrified that such creatures were abound.) Spending time in the jungle was definitely a huge lifestyle pivot from the one that I'm normally used to, one that was refreshingly simple and made me so much more aware and respectful of my surroundings.

We spent most of our time in the jungle embarking on nature walks or boat trips. My favorite was seeing the giant river otters; we trekked 5k to the part of the river where they are seen only about 5% of the time, got incredibly lucky on our boat ride, and managed to see a family of eight giant river otters for a few precious moments. We also saw caimans, macaws, and all sorts of creepy crawlies.

Which brings me to the bug situation. There. Were. A. Lot. Of Them. We had to be especially wary of mosquitos in the area, since it was a higher-risk area for yellow fever and malaria. Most bug sprays contain 7-12% deet (the poison that kills the bugs). The spray that we were recommended contained 100% deet. In fact, it just was deet. Pure poison sprayed directly to the backs of our hands and then carefully dabbed onto our faces, necks, and any other exposed skin. Boy that stuff was potent and probably took some months off my lifespan, but it worked well. When a bug landed, it died immediately upon contact. I felt like the human version of an electric bug zapper.

Sexy bucket hat gets replaced by sexy life vest

Our lodging. Super cool and rustic.

A map of campus. Explorer's Inn also had researchers and students on site.

 Rafiki

Who's a pretty princess?

A tarantula hanging out on one of the outside walls of the cabins. They allegedly often make their way inside too. Thankfully, we were not graced with any tarantulan visitors in our room.

Not pictured: back sweat. GALLONS UPON GALLONS

Unfortunately, we didn't see anything super rare or crazy on our hikes like a big cat or a sloth, but I enjoyed myself and learned a ton nevertheless. My stay definitely made me so much more appreciative of my surroundings and the natural beauty (and bizarre-ness!) in the Amazon. 

...and it also loosened my toenail. (Wow whatta transition!) Yeeeeep. On the Salkantay trail, my big toes had taken quite the beating from being repeatedly jammed against the front of my hiking boots on the downhill descents. In particular, the bedding around the base of my left foot's big toenail had grown very swollen and tender and I was very suspicious that the whole damn thing was on the verge of falling off, so one night in the jungle I took a closer look by headlamp/candlelight. Note: if you are squeamish about feet or injuries, you might want to skip this next part. 

I started by gently prodding the bedding, and then pressing with increasing firmness on the toenail (which had started separating at the tip from my skin beneath). To my utter surprise, a clear liquid came gushing out from my toenail. It was tinged with blood and didn't hurt as bad as it looked but I freaked out anyway and "OMG FUCK!"ed and the boy came over to see what was wrong. Fun fact about the boy: he hates feet. Despises them. All of them, even his own. It was a testament to our relationship that he calmly went to get the first aid kit, propped my foot up, applied anti-bacterial cream to my toe, and bandaged it. And he repeated the whole thing the next morning before our next hike! What a champ.

To normal people, this is just feet. To the boy, this is A MANIFESTATION OF HORROR AND DEATH

All of my piggies are back to normal now. The big toe has since stopped being so precarious and seems to have settled back down into its bedding. Aaaaaannnd I think that's enough toe talk for one entry.

We stayed at Explorer's Inn for three days and two nights. While the rainforest was an amazing experience, I was definitely ready for (and probably in desperate need of) a long, hot bath and some air conditioning. We flew out of Puerto Maldonado and landed in Lima around 4 in the afternoon for our last night in Peru. Our airbnb this time was in the Barranco district of the city, a quiet and artsy part of town. The highlight of our evening was definitely the ceviche, which had been raved about so often and vehemently thus far that we couldn't not have it at dinner.

It was incredible. Fresh, savory, a zillion flavors bursting through the smooth fishy goodness. I can feel my mouth salivating right now as I type this. Guhguhguhguhguh.

The best thing I ever ate

We spent the next morning taking a stroll around the neighborhood, admiring the beautiful architecture and modern art galleries along the coast of the ocean. After spending so many hours in the remote Andean mountainside and then three sweltering days in the Amazonian jungle, it felt strange to be admiring modern glass houses and pristinely groomed gardens. In fact, Barranca felt a bit like what I imagine the nicer coastal neighborhoods of LA would've been like. I wish we'd had more time to explore, but alas, we had a flight back home to catch and a whole lot of responsibilities to come back to, the most urgent of which was to consume a Chipotle burrito pronto.

And thus, I conclude the Peru Diaries. If you are interested or curious about visiting Peru, I highly recommend it. The people are kind, the culture is rich, the sights are breathtaking, and the ceviche in Lima will leave you wondering "what dark magic spawned this devilishly delicious delicacy?" The only thing I wish I would've done differently is taken a bigger bag so I could've brought more alpaca sweaters back with me. And Houdini the kitten. And the annoyingly cute alpaca. And Pepe. And that ceviche. And Machu Picchu. And Jhin's lens. And a giant river otter. 

...you get the point. Stay classy, Peru! I sincerely hope our paths will soon cross again.

The Peru Diaries part five: Pepe, baby deer legs, and a place they call Machu Picchu

The second day of the Salkantay trail was considerably less difficult than the first. The previous night's rain had drastically mollified the dust situation and we didn't have to contend with extreme altitudes or temperatures this time. Just pretty, peaceful trails. Ahh.

We spent the morning passing through more of the jungle-like area and making the occasional stop to learn about the local flora from Chabo, who displayed an impressive understanding about root what prevented this and what leaf what healed that. My favorite part of the morning hike was seeing the various bridges and waterfalls along the way. Each was unique in its size and grandeur.

Sexy bucket hat makes a reappearance.

Around halfway through the morning hike, we walked by somebody's home on a small, farm-like plot of land. Now we'd seen many stray dogs on our trip so far - they were everywhere from in the cities to out in the middle of the mountains and almost all of them had been very friendly and well-fed - but we met a special puppy at this place, one that Chabo named "Pepe". I'd casually tossed Pepe a peanut when we passed him and he ended up leaving his home and following us on the trail. Ten minutes later and he was still with our group. Twenty, then thirty, then forty. Pepe was still there.

Pepe (the golden puppy on the right) and friends from the small farm.

Chabo, the boy, Pepe & Pepe's friends

At around the hour-long mark, Pepe's companionship was starting to worry us a little. He was just a puppy and I was growing increasingly anxious that he wouldn't have the energy or the strength to make the trek back to the farm by himself. So I did what I had to - I shooed him away by yelling "Go home, Pepe!" and by throwing rocks in his general direction (never close enough to hit him). As his playful running subsided, his doggy smile dropped into a remorseful look and he eventually slinked away from the trail. I think shooing that puppy was probably the meanest thing I'd done in a while and it made me feel pretty rotten afterwards. But it was for the best! Or so we thought... because about just thirty minutes later, we encountered another group that had caught up to us, and lo and behold - there was Pepe, happily bounding alongside. That group went into a different farm to rest but the dogs there chased Pepe out (rude!), so he ran up along us, tail-a-waggin' and tongue-a-hangin' like nothing had happened. I didn't have the heart to shoo him away a second time - and so we were reunited with our canine friend, but feeling slightly less guilty, for it seemed that this time it was destiny and not a peanut that brought Pepe back to us.

Pepe accompanied us all the way to our end destination, a small but lively village with many other dogs. Passing through it, we came across several dogs who looked just like Pepe that would sniff at and carefully examine him - the boy and I think they were actually members of Pepe's family. While we'll never know for sure what happened to the little guy, Pepe did seem to enjoy himself and settle in nicely with the other dogs of the ending village. I hope his original owners aren't cursing us for having helped relocate him.

This was also where we had our last lunch with Walter, and boy did he he outdo himself. On the menu were juice, soup, pasta, guacamole, fresh vegetables, steak, and quinoa. Everything was scrumptious. I think it was one of the best meals I've ever had in my life.

Pausing for a photo op with Walter before digging in. All thumbs way up!

After lunch, we rode in a van for about an hour and a half into the forest preserve area near Machu Picchu. We then embarked on the last hike of the Salkantay trail, a three-hour walk, most of which was alongside train tracks that would bring us into the town of Aguas Calientes.

After a day and a half of going up and downhill, flat terrain was a welcome change.

These interesting local flowers were dubbed "baby's shoes." They were often used in funerals for miscarriages or babies who didn't survive birth as a way of aiding their passage to baby heaven.

A rare pop of colorful flora in front of a home we passed.

Mammoth boulders that are submerged during the wet season. Over the years they have been smoothed and whitened by the flowing water, producing this beautiful, almost fake-looking effect.

At the end of our afternoon hike, we reached Aguas Calientes with sore legs and very, very tired spirits. And of course, our hostel was all the way at the end of a long uphill climb. I could practically hear the tendons and muscles in my legs screaming in protest as we made our way up slopes of the tourist town, passing restaurants and bars touting happy hour specials that we ignored. We were greeted at Puma's hostel with big smiles and welcomes from our friends who'd stayed behind in Cuzco. It must've been comical for them to see us attempt to get upstairs to our rooms. My trusty legs had become so wobbly and reluctant to move, they almost gave out on me. I felt like a baby deer taking its first steps.

Since a dozen or so travelers had all arrived at once at the small hostel, we had to make do with cold showers. It's hard to describe what I was really feeling at that point - blinding fatigue mixed in with eternal gratitude for indoor plumbing, clean towels, and soft, soft beds, maybe? Anyhoo, dragging myself back downstairs and keeping my eyelids open through dinner used my remaining ounces of willpower. After dinner, when I got returned to the hostel (legs numb at this point), I managed to pop in a few ibuprofens before crawling under the covers and seriously passing the fuck out.

The next morning, I woke up feeling much better with seven hours of sleep under my belt. But all three guys in our group, the boy in particular, were in a pretty bad state from having been kept up by a confused rooster that had decided 2 AM was a good time to start its crowing routine. After a very snappy breakfast, we hurried out so we could beat the lines and see the site before it got crowded. After all, the chance to see the sun rise over a world wonder doesn't present itself every day, sleep deprivation notwithstanding. 

We walked down to the bus area at around 4:45 in the morning and met Chabo there, who'd been standing in line for about thirty minutes to hold a place in line for us. When he'd first told us of this plan the previous night, we were too tired to ponder the consequences, but when we took our place in line that morning, our neighbors were less than pleased with us for having, in their eyes, cut them in line. It was a pretty awkward situation and while I would not do it again to avoid the hassel of annoyed neighbors, I don't think we were necessarily in the wrong, either. We saw several other tour groups do the same thing in front of us, and despite the people behind us in line saying it wasn't fair, we were in a different country where it seemed to be the norm to have tour guides hold their group's places in line. Besides, we were following his instructions. I don't know. I guess what was sorta funny was that a.) being among the front buses turned out to be worse position-wise than the back ones as the first buses pulled up further from the visitor entrance to the site and b.) the woman who'd been nagging on us the most ended up cutting the line once we got to Machu Picchu. Life is funny that way.

Machu Picchu was definitely the crowning jewel of my visit to Peru. There was a quiet mystery and calmness surrounding the historical site, and yet there was life there - llamas strolling around, lush green grass, even the water systems still running same as how they'd been built over five hundred years ago.

A little background on Machu Picchu: it was built in the 1400's by the Incans to honor their leader Pachacuti. In its hay day, Machu Picchu was pretty much the shit - it was inhabited by the foremost thinkers of Incan society, like astronomers, philosophers, and most importantly, religious leaders. In fact, religion played a huge role in its construction and architecture - so many of the rooms were reserved for worship or offerings. There was even a temple of virgins from which visiting big wigs could make a selection. 

The level of sophistication we saw in the site was nothing short of incredible. The Incans used water to break apart mammoth boulders and every single piece of stone was hand-sanded and rubbed to perfection. They also invented a series of aqueducts that would run through the city, providing water to its residents. Perhaps most impressively, they were able to keep Machu Picchu a secret from the Spaniards. To do so, they took their own mummies and possessions, covered up trails to their homes, and fled from the site. It still amazes me that this site, which was inhabited for over 100 years just 50 miles out of Cuzco, remained a secret to the world from the time it was abandoned to when it was discovered in 1911 by a historian from Yale university.

The boy and I only spent about two hours in Machu Picchu, which was sufficient time to take in the beauty of the site and learn about it from Chabo before it filled up with five trillion other tourists. The rest of the group continued the tour and the hike up through Huayna Picchu, the mountain behind the site. The boy and I opted to board a bus back to the hostel to uhm, partake in a dia de diarrhea that ensued on the boy's part. In the afternoon, while he rested, I met up with our other friends and visited the natural hot springs after which Aguas Calientes was named. It was nice to do something completely indulgent and the warm water proved to be therapeutic for our sore legs.

At night, we ducked into a restaurant to grab some pizza to go for our train ride. Fun fact: Peruvian pizzerias have not taken to the idea of putting their cheesy creations into cardboard boxes. Instead, the chefs attempted to stuff the steaming hot pizzas into plastic bags. We politely declined the bags and opted to just eat the pizzas ourselves en route to the train station. 

Another canine friend. This one we encountered at a cafe outside of Machu Picchu.

People for the Ethical Treatment of Pizzas

Three hours later, a train and a bus ride later found us back in our beloved Hotel Andenes al Cielo, where warm beds and the luggage we'd left for safekeeping were waiting for us. We said goodbye to two of our friends (who were at the end of their trip) and called it a night, for we had an early flight the next morning out of Cuzco and into Puerto Maldonado, where we were to embark on the next phase of our vacation - the Amazonian rainforest! Stay tuned to hear all about sweaty hikes, rustic cabins and tarantulas galore!