Cuzco and Biking

When Josh and I arrived in Cuzco at 1 AM we found the cheapest hostel around - $8/night!  Luckily Peru is a little nicer than Bolivia, so my sheets were pube free.  At that point I knew better than to look under my sheets so i lifted up the smallest portion necessary to get in.  As my legs made their way to the foot of the bed they started scraping against rough objects, which I refused to look at.  I can only assume they were decaying remnants of past room occupants or David Bowie's toenail clippings.

When I awoke the next morning I was in need of a bowel movement and rushed to the community bathroom, where I quickly learned the toilet didn't flush.  My first thought was to get the water from the sink, so I could dump it into the back part of the toilet, providing it the necessary water to flush, but my hopes were far too high as the sink did not run either...  With the wonderful scent of turds in my nostrils, I went to my last resort - the shower.  As I started cranking the shower, I was thankful it actually worked, so I decided to test my luck and see if we had any hot water.  That ended up being the best decision ever, as I soon learned the hot water valve triggered the toilet water to fill and provided the sink with 11 seconds of water.  After freshening up, I was ready for breakfast.

My bro and I ventured into Cuzco to grab some grub and tour the city.  As I failed yet again to order my food in Spanish, Josh delighted in how awful my accent was and how no one ever understood what I was saying.  We also found a new hostel closer to where the rest of our crew was arriving the following day.  They weren't set to arrive until the following day, so we hit up an Irish pub for some grub and watched the Colts lose to the Ravens.  We then went back to our plumbing deficient hostel, where my bro decided to shave.  This time the water didn't run and the sink was full of what I can only hope was just his facial hair.   

Despite the mediocre accommodations, the views were ballin

The next day we grabbed our gear and trekked uphill to our next hostel, which was also $8/night.  We also met up with the rest of our crew, who for $60/night were living like royalty.  Those rich bastards had clean rooms, hot breakfasts, freshly squeezed juice, wifi, and TV.  Meanwhile, David Bowie's toenail clippings were incubating in my calves and Josh had become more tapeworm than human.   

(from left to right) My sister Les, her husband Craig, my broseph Bryn, and his girlfriend Joyce

With a full crew, we hopped around the city and Craig, who is a professional cameraman, started rocking some time lapses.  We also went back to our Irish pub for another dinner, where I questionably got a burrito infused with chili.  I could only hope our new hostel's plumbing could handle what the last one surely could not.  Josh and I also got to drink booze in front of those rich bastards, as they weren't altitude adjusted enough to drink alcohol yet.  Am I really that petty... absolutely I am.

After dinner we headed back to their hostel to meet our tour guide Jimicito, or Papapuma, as we would soon learn to call him.  He explained the plan for our four day jungle trek that would end in Machu Picchu.  He psyched us up and even gave us a refund for the rafting portion, which had to be cancelled since two people died a few weeks before.  The plan was to pick us up in an SUV and give us a ride to the bus, which would then depart to our starting point atop a mountain.  So when the SUV arrived the next morning we piled in and started our trip...or did we?

It turns out that most roads in Cusco are really just alleyways, so you often have to wait for other cars to pass through before making your way down them.  In one instance a car pulled in front of us and we needed to reverse back up the street, which caused the car to die.  Eventually we had to get out and push the car whilst in neutral so our driver could get the engine to turn, and after a few tries she started purring like a dying walrus!  About 10 minutes later we made it to the bus where about 20 other people were awaiting us. We soon learned that all the groups were being split up based on the number of days their trip lasted and what language they spoke.  We got one additional member for our crew - Kathryn, a veterinary student from Colorado.  

You fall, you die

As we made our Journey towards the top of the mountain, I noticed the bus driver genuflect and hoped that wasn't a foreshadowing of events to come.  When the bus stopped, we piled out so we could get equipped with full body gear, a helmet, and a bike.   So this is where I shamefully confess my lack of skill.  I never learned how to ride a bike as a child, and have maybe ridden a bike for 3 hours in my entire life.  So why did I agree to do a 41 mile bikeride down the side of a mountain?  I did this solely because my brother Bryn really wanted to do this trek and was super excited for the biking portion.  So not wanting to let down the asshole brother that should have, but didn't teach me how to ride a bike, I decided to embrace my stupidity, face my fears, and stain my underpants.

Before starting our journey, we are told to leave all our cameras and bags on the bus as we will make several stops to take pictures... We made 2 stops and took no pictures.  Now, when you look at pictures of the bike trip on the internet everyone is smiling and the sun is shining, but as you have learned, the Universe defeats me at every turn.  So as we start our journey, the rain is pounding so hard that we can't even see 10 feet ahead.  It was also insanely foggy, since at 4 miles up, you are basically in the clouds.

Though the weather was brutal, it will help me remember the story all the better

As we started our way down the mountain, I was delighted that I could stay upright, but was hoping we would get a break as we were basically biking through a hurricane.  About 20 minutes later, I realized that wasn't happening and figured if the biking didn't kill me, the resulting pneumonia surely would. Just when I thought things couldn't get worse, I got savaged by a wild dog that leapt out of the forest and made a play for Bowie's toenails.  Luckily I was able to evade it's assault and arrived at our first checkpoint.  So why exactly did we stop?  Because for the next portion, we would be biking through some mini-rivers and they wanted to make sure we kept our speed to avoid falling in.

Feeling confident at having not fallen off my bike, I rushed out to lead the pack, which I should have known would lead to a disastrous spectacle for everyone else to witness.  After making our way through three of the mini rivers, we started to make our way through some steep switchbacks (giant u-turns).  With everyone behind me, my bike slid out from under me as my back wheel fell off and I proved that even though my body is godly, I am still mortal.  Luckily I was able to control the fall, as it was about a 3 mile drop off the edge towards a certain death.  I also took the time to do a testicle check, as I was concerned one might exploded on impact, but luckily all three survived the fall.  That's right, when I refer to myself as being tri-ball it has nothing to do with a tribe.

My wheel was soon re-attached and I was on my glorious way.  I actually managed to catch up to a few people after 15 minutes or so, just as the weather cleared up and spectacular mountain scenery began sprawling before our weary eyes.  We finally made our way to our second stop before the finish, due to a bulldozer blocking the road.  I soon learned that the next portion of our journey was no longer on paved roads, but on muddy, pothole infested, dirt roads.  As this was the first time I would be biking on such a surface, I braced myself for the worst.

They're gonna catch you ridin' dirty!

After 20 minutes or so we got back onto normal paved roads, however it was but a brief stop before we faced more dirt.  There were also several other bikers stranded on the side of the road, due to broken chains.  I ended up catching up with Bryn and Joyce and as we wound through the pothole infested roads, I knew my luck was running out.   So after hitting a few more potholes, I flew off the bike and crashed into the ground for a second time.  I really wished we had video camera, because it had to have looked hilarious.  With no pride or dignity left, I toughed out the final leg and was ecstatic to reach the finish.  Luckily Joyce and Leslee packed plenty of food, so we were able to get some much needed grub while waiting to head to a local restaurant for a late, 3 o'clock lunch.  

Upon arriving, everyone took off their soaking wet clothes and attempted to dry them out since we still had another hour long hike to go.  During this time I also realized the body gear, which has likely never been washed, had stained my shirt and left me smelling like a sewer full of rotting onions.  After a typical South American lunch (soup, rice w/ meat, and some sort of lemonade), we grabbed our gear and headed back into the jungle to get to our first night's accommodation, which had one of the most spectacular views I've ever seen.  An amazing reward for a long day's journey.

Mountains, forest, rivers... I had no desire to leave

That night we were treated to dinner cooked by a local family and got to stay in their guest houses.  When the sun rose, we were ready to prepare for our second day's trek, but that my friends, is a story for another blog...

Lake Titicaca (hehe)

After my traumatic haircut in Uyuni, I was ready to get to our next destination, Lake Titicaca.  To get there my bro and I had to traverse another overnight bus ride,  during which I was 90% sure Satan had finally claimed my soul and started burning me in a mobile easy bake oven.  It was literally so hot that at one point I thought my pants caught fire... it was lucky I wasn't wearing them.  If I had, it might have brought new meaning to the word hot dog, if you know what I'm saying...yeah that's right, i made a wiener joke.  This blog is officially  NC-17.  Damn you Oprah.

After getting back to La Paz at 7 AM, we learned that our next bus to Puno left at 8, giving us just enough time to retrieve the bags we dumped at a local hostel prior to our venture to Uyuni.  Luckily no one stole my Space Jam dvd or my 98 Degrees t-shirt.  After gathering our things we went back to the bus station for what turned out to be the most tolerable ride of the trip.  About 2.5 hours into the trip everyone had to get off the bus so it could be ferried across the lake as bridges don't exist there.

South American transportation is epic!

After the crossing, we got back on the bus and drove to Puno.  Once there we made our way to the edge of the lake and hopped a ferry to the Isla Del Sol, which I believe is Spanish for a whale's vagina. Anchorman reference - Drink!

The highest navigable lake in the world

As Josh and I walked through the streets of this ancient town, I sensed something.  With a twitch of my nose and a perk of my ears, I knew what had happened.  Millennia of genetic evolution had given my ears the ability to hear certain things at a somewhat superhuman level, and as I looked to my left, my convictions held true.  I saw that Lake Titicaca had lived up to it's name, at least the first part...bwahahaha.

That's right, the sound I heard was that of the female breast being exposed to open air.  Now before you get too excited, let me explain how unglamorous this boob was.  This boob, was the that of an older local woman, who whipped it out to feed a child that in my mind was too large to be breast fed.  It was creepy and ruined the majesticity of my childlike enthusiasm for boobies.  And yes I wrote boob or boobies like 10 times just because I like saying it.  But regardless, Lake Titicaca proved true to it's glorious name, and I will always respect it for that.

After hanging out on the island for the night we decided to make our way to Peru, which meant we had to deal with a border crossing!  I made it through with no issues thanks to my imposing strength and perfect body (4% body fat).  My brother, who at this point i'm positive has worms, did not have the same luck.  Immigrations didn't stamp his passport at the airport so he had to deal with the border police.  As I'm waiting for him I notice that our bus is no longer in sight and we left all of our possessions on board, and I began to think... Thank GOD I am wearing my 98 Degrees t-shirt right now, I mean can you imagine losing something as irreplaceable as that?  After 20 mins of waiting, my bro finally appears and we can cross into Peru, where we have to go through yet another border check.  Luckily we spot our bus near the border patrol building and my bowels simmer down.

As we get back on the bus, I settle in and get comfy, for we were told when purchasing these tickets that this bus would take us all the way to Cuzco, our final destination.  Of course, I forgot this was South America and the universe was going to shit on my life again.  So about 2 hours in we stop at a bus station and get told we need to exit the bus and get on a smaller, local bus for the remainder of the trip.

As we enter this new bus, my brother takes the window seat in the front left row, leaving me with the aisle seat.  If his goal was to get me to want to kill myself, he most definitely succeeded...  For the next two hours I had to listen to locals scream sales pitches three inches from where I was sitting.  My A-hole brother knew that this would happen and intentionally sat there to make me experience this as it is another Backpacker's right of passage.  They also had no respect for the personal bubble, as they were constantly leaning into my legs, though I can't blame them as touching me means touching greatness.

After the sales pitches were over, our bus driver proceeded to get shit-faced with about 6 other dudes for the remainder of the trip.  Fortunately I had Big Willie Style on my iPod and was able to take my mind off such horrors. 5 hours and at least 3 rum bottles later we made it to Cuzco.  Of course we arrived at 1 AM,  three hours after our promised time of 10 pm.  We navigated our way to the cheapest hostel we could find ($8/night) and boy was it classy, but that's a story for another blog.

Salar de Uyuni

Ahhh the salt flats.  After the first bus ride from hell we arrived in Uyuni, which is basically the ghetto with limited power/hot water.  It was also dirtier and smellier than the sanchez fermenting on my face.  Eventually we made our way to the town center where all the tour guides are and locked in a 3 day all inclusive tour for the price of 750 bolivianos, which is roughly eleven cents.   The first part of your journey is gathering your crew and luckily ours was pretty cool.  We had Carolita the Argentinian, Mark the kiwi, Korean Kim, and the crazy Russians.  I'm not sure what our driver's name was, so I'll just go with Sloth since he drove like 3 mph the entire time.

I can't even begin to describe how crazy the Salar looks, I mean the only time I've ever seen anything this beautiful has been in a place called the mirror.  It's basically just an endless optical illusion where you never know what's real or fake...kind of like my blog?  Here's a few of my top pic(k)s:

This isn't an optical illusion, I'm just huge

My bro is really just standing like 10 feet back, but he looks like he's in my palm

The only negative about the salt flats was that we got there ahead of the rainy season, because in the rainy season the ground actually reflects the sky.  Be careful ladies, just the thought of me running naked through an endless mirror could impregnate you.  And now i'm going to take a moment to apologize to my sisters in case they just read that and for what's about to come.  Our next destination was fish island, where things got more than a little erotic:

Easy ladies, it's just my cocktus...i mean cactus

After all that action we made our way to our first night's hostel, which was made entirely out of salt.  I also got to enjoy my first cold shower of the trip, but at least I didn't smell like a rotting sack of yeti turds anymore.  In the morning we had our typical breakfast of stale bread, jam, yogurt, and coffee and went on our way.  Day two's views were amazing as we drove through mountains to various chemical lakes and geysers.  

The multi-colored chemical lakes were REDiculously incREDible

That's right, you just RED one of my dREDful puns. bwahahahahaha.  We also visited some geysers, where things got a little explosive.

I lack class, not gas

I may or may not have soiled my underpants whilst holding that pose... Day 3 wasn't as cool as the first two days, as we had to take the kiwi to the Chilean border and then spent the rest of the day driving back to Uyuni. Once we got back we immediately went to the bus station so we could get back to La Paz.  So here's the back story, before we left on our tour we talked to a lady at one of the bus stations and she said we could easily get a ticket the day of and we shouldn't purchase a ticket in advance.  So naturally when we get there every bus is sold out and we are stuck staying in a really classy $4 a night hostel.  As I lifted up the bed sheet i realized the thread count was 200, whilst the pube count was closing in on a 1000.  It was by far the most disgusting place I've ever been in and that includes Oprah's vagina.

I also earned what my brother called a backpackers right of passage.  I'm pretty sure everyone else just calls it diarrhea.  I became thankful that bus was sold out, as having the runs on a bus that stops once every 6 hours would not have been pretty... you might even say it would have been... Shitty.  bwahahahaha another one of my classic puns.  Apologies,  i'm feeling awfully punny at the moment.

As I sat locked in that butcher's chair, I watched the blades drawing closer to my face as my breathing became increasingly more shallow.  The stink of his sweat stained wife beater weaves through my nostrils as I gasp for every breath likes it's my last.  I've felt fear before, but it was but a shallow reservoir compared the vast ocean of terror in which I was treading.  I couldn't help but close my eyes as I felt the first cut, deep and quick.  I knew it would be at least three inches in length and would likely leave me scarred.  How did I end up here, what cruel fate was I about to endure?  I slowly opened my eyes and words cannot describe the desolation that I felt as my eyes locked in on what I had lost, pooling on the ground are my once beautiful Fabio-esque tresses.

To summarize that last paragraph less dramatically - I got a haircut.  In South America you are supposed to choose a haircut from pictures on the wall, but they had no mullets or anything cool, so I decided to ask for a trim.  As I don't speak spanish I made some gestures with my hands and let the barber get to work.  So how horrible did I look?  If you read my first blog you will remember that every female tingled upon my arrival, well after that haircut I'm pretty sure they lost the ability to ever tingle again.  It was basically like a bowl cut, if that bowl was a colander.  But for $1.40, what could I really expect?

After a long day, we got on our night bus back to La Paz.  I can only refer to this bus ride as Hell's Furnace, but that my friends is a story for another blog.