Yesterday I woke up and went to my favourite crepery for breakfast...only to learn they are closed until February 16th! They only had to be open a few more days....
I grabbed some food at the local bakery instead and then headed up to Sasquawaman, the Incan fortress about 1 mile above Cusco. Cusco´s "navel" appellation really is accurate, since there are high hills on all sides of the city. Anyways, the ruins were really impressive, some stones about 20 feet high, and all, as usual, interlocking perfectly to form a strong defense against attack. Got some good shots, hopefully there will be some oasis internet cafe in the next few cities with enough broadband to upload easily. I also visited the city´s Jesus statue which overlooks the whole city and is lit up at night.
I relaxed at the hostel in the afternoon and met an interesting couple from California. They had spent two weeks (of their four in Peru) on a cleansing mission with the Shaman of a small village. Spiritual, mental, and physical cleansing...
Anyways we spent a fair amount of time talking about the food in Peru (they are meat-eaters but organic naturally raised only, etc). I recommended BC to them, they were thinking of going up next year.
I went to a show from 630-8 of traditional Andean dances. It was pretty good, the music not bad. An entertaining show at least for the time and place. Immediately after the show ended I realized my stomach woes had returned. Not fun. After that was semi-resolved I didn´t want to return to the hostel. I was tired of going to bed at like 9 because of stomach illness, jetlag, exhaution, and altitude adaptation. I headed to Norton´s Rat, an English pub in the main square. My guidebook said they had the best burgers in town, and since it was the first burger I´ve eaten here I have to agree. Huge bun, as big as two big Mac´s I´d say with a real beef patty, bacon, mushrooms, cheese, tomato, lettuce, mayo, and avacado. I wolfed it down.
I met a 65 year old guy at the bar named Tycho. He grew up in Estonia, then immigrated to NYC when he was 23 in 1966. He started visiting Peru in ´77 and has been back like 15 times or so. Anyways we hit it off and spent the night getting drunk and talking about politics, history, economics, socialism-communism-capitalism, language, religion, and Peru. We spent a fair amount of time making fun of Canadians which was great, and I probed him a lot about Peru. I don´t mind drinking a fair amount in good company.
When I left the bar I was coherent, but fairly buzzed. It was like 2am and I hadn´t been on the streets of Cusco after midnight yet so I was aware to be vigilant about being robbed. Of course, as those who have drank alcohol before know "being vigilant" about anything while buzzed means you have no inhibitions or worries until you re-remember you should be trying not to get robbed. My usual defense for not getting robbed was no longer in effect (being around tourists who would be easier to rob than me). Anyways I made it home ok and slept in.
The hostel here has a copy of Harper´s, the New Yorker, Wired, and New Scientist. I´ve already gone through them all, depraved of English as I am, and as a result not even Malcolm Gladwell´s article seemed bad. Wired I haven´t really read much before now but was pretty impressed with some features they ran. Anyways, I´ve been trying to figure out this puzzle they printed in New Scientist I believe. It goes like this:
"I had a list of numbers, but I coded them by changing digits for letters consistently. If you knew how many of the numbers were square you could figure out what the numbers are."
The coded list : "ARE ANY NOS HERE SQUARE" -- I can safely say that I went about cracking this code in the least efficient way possible. But, I´m fairly certain I can solve it in my next go, probably before bed tonight. Extra credit for doing like me and not using a calculator. Extra extra credit for not using pen and paper, though I´m pretty sure this would take 12 hours or something. One word of advice, I have figured out how to optimally approach these kinds of questions. DO NOT try and think laterally about the question for 3 minutes before resorting to brute force (like me) for the next 30. Instead, try spending 10 minutes thinking laterally. This will save you much time.
I´m heading to the jungle tomorrow, for 5 days. I ended up picking the expensive trip, but it seems like you get what you pay for. Of course, hindsight will be 20-20. One advantage is that the trip ends in the jungle town of Puerto Maldano, and I´ll have to find my way back to Cusco before moving on to Puno around the 4th of February. Im not flying, its way too expensive for an hour flight, so sketchy collectivos and buses through the jungle will be my transportation of choice. I know I´ve left out some days in this blog, to be filled in later, but I will say that I am now adept at busing between cities.
I wanted to make a semi-comical entry about things I dislike in Peru (not everything here is perfect) but I guess it will have to wait. If you don´t hear from me again I died somewhere in the Amazon. Don´t publish my notes.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Inca Trail Day Four
We woke up at 4. I was a little dehydrated but mostly my stomach was bothering me now. I didn´t eat anything for breakfast, didn´t really feel like eating. We headed out at about 445 to the "control" where we waited for about 2 hours to pass through as the groups ahead of us shuffled through and got their passport and ticket issues resolved. Then we started to hike...and I was tired of hiking I guess because I fell behind early. It was no easier or harder than previous days but my body was starting to check out. It started to rain, the group left me behind in about 30 minutes and I could have taken out my rain poncho but I didn´t really care. I was just trudging and trying to keep my stomach under wraps.
It rained harder and then we had to climb up incan stairs, about 3 stories. I was not having a good time. In fact, I was starting to get into a really sour mood. Willfredo stayed back to watch me struggle up and down the terrain, mist enveloped us, with a fair smattering of rain. Nothing monsoon-level but enough to soak me and my pack by the end of the morning hike. Pictured is me walking through the incan gate, and facial appearances aside, this was the nadir of the whole trip for me. I was not happy at all!
As we walked the last part of the trail, descending into Machu Picchu, the entire ruins where enveloped in mist. You couldn´t see a goddamn thing. Did I trek all the way for this? We walked down to the control, about 30 minutes downhill from the last part of the hike, and I checked my bag with the group. A skipped a whole bunch of people in line to get there and a bunch of them noticed. I played dumb, then gave them the I´m pissed off staredown as Javier told them I was part of the group and we were keeping our bags together. I paid 1 sole to go to the bathroom and tried to resolve my issues. While no immediate resolution took place, I felt a little bit better and bought the most expensive bottle of water, gatorade, and snickers bar in all of Peru. Christy, Shawna, and I started our two hour tour of the site.
We saw all I had read about, the sun palace, the terraces, the temple of three windows, the royal chambers, and the first plumbed bathroom in all of south america. As we proceeded through the site the mist began to clear, a little. So that you could see further than ten feet in front of yourself. Our tour guide wasn´t particularly great, English was his second or third language and he had rehearsed his pitch. I saw a pretty big slab of rock that they sacrificed kids on which I hadn´t known about previously, which was pretty interesting. We finished the tour at the other end of the ruins, and looking back got an ok view of the site. I mean, mountains on all sides, ancient ruins well preserved, the mist gave it a certain eery feel that wasn´t all bad.
The three of us resolved to head back and into town, not much point staying in the rain really. As we headed back towards the entrance, I got lost for a moment from the two girls. I was off taking pictures, and by this time my spirits were ok. It was, despite the lack of visibility and the tempetuous nature of my stomach, still spectacular. I met up with the girls again just at the start of the terraces, and I had noticed that it had begun to clear up. I told Christy to go on ahead without me, Id meet them later, I was going to climb back up the hill to try and get "a better shot."
That was the quote I gave Christy, but I knew what I really wanted. I wanted the perfect shot. I wanted what I´d come here for. As I scaled the side of the site, up the hill which overlooked the ruins, the weather got better. The rain stopped, the mist dispersed. I got to the spot where I could take it all in. There were even some rays of sunshine eeking through the clouds. Not many, but some. Like I said, the mist wasn´t all bad, it gave the site a certain feel. I stayed up at my spot for about twenty minutes, taking photos while tourists passed by in between just taking it in. The mountain behind the site was still obscured by clouds for the first 15 minutes. You can literally see the mist coming, it doesn´t surprise you...it moves quickly over the mountains here but you can often see it coming. The wind blew the mist past the mountain behind and you could see everything. It began raining again, but just a little. Off the slope to my left I could see another large mist coming, being blown in. I had little time. Tourists marched on my route in either direction and I knew I had about 15 seconds to try one last time to get that perfect shot of the lost city in the mist.
It rained harder and then we had to climb up incan stairs, about 3 stories. I was not having a good time. In fact, I was starting to get into a really sour mood. Willfredo stayed back to watch me struggle up and down the terrain, mist enveloped us, with a fair smattering of rain. Nothing monsoon-level but enough to soak me and my pack by the end of the morning hike. Pictured is me walking through the incan gate, and facial appearances aside, this was the nadir of the whole trip for me. I was not happy at all!
As we walked the last part of the trail, descending into Machu Picchu, the entire ruins where enveloped in mist. You couldn´t see a goddamn thing. Did I trek all the way for this? We walked down to the control, about 30 minutes downhill from the last part of the hike, and I checked my bag with the group. A skipped a whole bunch of people in line to get there and a bunch of them noticed. I played dumb, then gave them the I´m pissed off staredown as Javier told them I was part of the group and we were keeping our bags together. I paid 1 sole to go to the bathroom and tried to resolve my issues. While no immediate resolution took place, I felt a little bit better and bought the most expensive bottle of water, gatorade, and snickers bar in all of Peru. Christy, Shawna, and I started our two hour tour of the site.
We saw all I had read about, the sun palace, the terraces, the temple of three windows, the royal chambers, and the first plumbed bathroom in all of south america. As we proceeded through the site the mist began to clear, a little. So that you could see further than ten feet in front of yourself. Our tour guide wasn´t particularly great, English was his second or third language and he had rehearsed his pitch. I saw a pretty big slab of rock that they sacrificed kids on which I hadn´t known about previously, which was pretty interesting. We finished the tour at the other end of the ruins, and looking back got an ok view of the site. I mean, mountains on all sides, ancient ruins well preserved, the mist gave it a certain eery feel that wasn´t all bad.
The three of us resolved to head back and into town, not much point staying in the rain really. As we headed back towards the entrance, I got lost for a moment from the two girls. I was off taking pictures, and by this time my spirits were ok. It was, despite the lack of visibility and the tempetuous nature of my stomach, still spectacular. I met up with the girls again just at the start of the terraces, and I had noticed that it had begun to clear up. I told Christy to go on ahead without me, Id meet them later, I was going to climb back up the hill to try and get "a better shot."
That was the quote I gave Christy, but I knew what I really wanted. I wanted the perfect shot. I wanted what I´d come here for. As I scaled the side of the site, up the hill which overlooked the ruins, the weather got better. The rain stopped, the mist dispersed. I got to the spot where I could take it all in. There were even some rays of sunshine eeking through the clouds. Not many, but some. Like I said, the mist wasn´t all bad, it gave the site a certain feel. I stayed up at my spot for about twenty minutes, taking photos while tourists passed by in between just taking it in. The mountain behind the site was still obscured by clouds for the first 15 minutes. You can literally see the mist coming, it doesn´t surprise you...it moves quickly over the mountains here but you can often see it coming. The wind blew the mist past the mountain behind and you could see everything. It began raining again, but just a little. Off the slope to my left I could see another large mist coming, being blown in. I had little time. Tourists marched on my route in either direction and I knew I had about 15 seconds to try one last time to get that perfect shot of the lost city in the mist.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Peru
I am spending my second night in Pisac tonight. I don´t have the motivation to finish my Incan trail blogs right now. I´m not sure why. Maybe its because I´m still tired from my illness. More likely I think its because I´m dissatisfied with the quality of these blogs. My notebook got destroyed on the Inca trail so I haven´t really been prewriting anything. Except for in my head, where I actually can keep a lot. At least, a lot of day four is already written up there. But, I don´t know.
Peru is an interesting place. Yesterday I met some Austrians. Today I met some english teachers at the cafe I was hanging out at. There were four of them (all female=, two dutch, one brit, and an aussie. Apparently they didnt need toefl certification to get the jobs they have. We hung out on the 2nd floor of this cafe while snacking and we watched a pretty good Natalie Portman movie. One of the main characters was De Goya, and the guy in no country for old men was really good in it. I showed the dutch girls to the hostel I was staying in, and I think they got a room. Thats what meeting people like is here, fleeting. I asked them what they were doing for dinner, and the UK and Aussie said they had a host family. Alright.
Peru reminds you of its third world status often enough. Sometimes it smells like the soiled barnyard. Fair enough. Sometimes it smells far far worse than that. There are obviously no emissions requirements on vehicles, so when you find a really bad stretch of smell you hopefully line that up with a truck passing by to belch some added noxious fumes into your olfactory lobe. Sometimes it smells like plain death.
Its a good thing I didn´t come here to be enlightened. Some of you can imagine, others will have to, how many people come here with that purpose, and how many are delusional. Others come to enlighten others, to spread the word of god. Today I ran into 10 women or so who were into spiritual healing and birthing. What was so funny was that they were all dressed counterculturally. They all had combinations of shalls, cloth handmade throws, dresses over jeans, beads and crystals, piercings, sandals, various nontraditional and dreaded hair, and tribal tatoos. They talked about the energy of the group, how they were just "feeling" all these things, like I "feel" as if I just need to be close to nature now, let´s go for that hike. I felt like laughing out loud. They were into the global agricultural movement. Reminds me of plenty of people in Kingston of course, in fact, I know these people all over the place. But the sad thing was that they were like 30-40 years old, and all in a self-reinforcing group of "individuality." This reminded me of a couple of things.
One of course was recent, when I was talking to Dan about poker, how someone wins and loses. And how I shouldn´t lose sight of this fact! Isn´t a winning player impoverishing others etc. Well, this isn´t necessarily related but basically the whole save-the-world from oppression etc movement seems to me to be doing a few things. One is they hate dicthomoties. I was reading a Queen´s Journal interview with some York uni prof who used to work for Queen´s, but was too oppressed by its anti-minority environment. That and its "culture of whiteness" of course. She proffered the following quote (I paraphrase very accurately): "Its like night and day... to use that racialized language."
What? There is of course the possibility that the Journal mistranscribed "its like black and white"... but either way. How do you get off calling night and day racialized? I know where you get off, one stop before the train rolls into cogentville. People hate what they perceive as inequality to a point where they are just, quite frankly, stupid. We must rid the world of all inequality... this extends to dichotomies and comparisons of course! Nothing can be better. I wonder what these people do at restaurants.
Now that reminded me of something else, so I know not which topic to address... I´ll go with that related to the glocal agricultural people. Tim joked that he thought I might be going to Peru (another type of Enlightenment journey) to try and solve 3rd world poverty or something. While of course, I´m interested in how this could happen... notice the language I use. When people speak of trying to solve 3rd world poverty the way that phrase is, leads into the idea that there is a solution, or some solutions, that can in fact be put in place. Read: imposed from the outside. Sometimes systems reach a certain state without outside interference. I think I´m becoming aware of ways in which "this could happen", my previous phrase. Elaboration maybe for another blog, but that is something to think about. Of course those who don´t understand what someone means by "the market" or someone who thinks 3rd world people to be as stupid as they are are disinclined to believe in a system changing states without interference. They usually don´t think in terms of systems or nonlinear possibilities anyways, or havent tried to.
Anyways, that gets me to one last thing. And of course, those who disagree with me will be given various options to critisize my position. The first being that my arugment is made short and blunt -- therefore it must not be considered. The second is simply not thinking about it honestly.
There are a bunch of people, in my life and in the marketplace of ideas, who make arguments like "maybe my truth is different than your truth" or "my idea of truth is different than your idea of truth" as well as, my favourite "couldn´t it be the case that something is and is not"? The last principle is that of excluded middle in logic, and some wish to deny it could be the case. I believe most definitions of the law of excluded middle are not not P = P , with the corrolary that not P plus P = 1, something like this. Anyways, to treat the anti-law of excluded middle people first. This isn´t an assumption. People believe the law of excluded middle not on faith, but on argument. The argument runs pretty simple: if something is red, isn´t it red? yeah, if it is blue is it red? no i dont think so. It blue is not red is not red red? well if blue is not red.... ok I won´t bore you further. Taoist, various new age spiritualists, and more importantly, people who don´t want to lose arguments or concede points, say, oh but it is truth and not truth, it is life and death, night and day, and they ramble on incoherently. When it comes to actual propositions, the times the law of excluded middle doesn´t imply is the times they want it to. By that I mean they apply it selectively, to certain philosophical arguments. Why? Because they don´t want to lose an argument, concede a point, or entreat an option. The degree of niceness with which someone points out you are wrong is not correlated to its factuality, just your acceptance of it. More importantly, these people are hypocrites, namely, because they haven´t been killed crossing the street. Is the light green and not green? I should walk anyways because Im here and not here.
Sure, continue to claim you aren´t convinced by the law of excluded middle, conveniently, in those areas where its application might lead to a logical objection to something you either may believe, or may have sympathy for not pointing out to others shouldn´t be believed. Just don´t expect anyone but the credulous and similarly unreflective people such as yourself to do the same.
On the first point, that of "my idea of truth is different than your idea of truth." I think I´ve come up with a really easy, really effective, test, to determine if someone is just talking bullshit when they talk like this. Insert the word "red" or "bacon" in every spot where you find "truth". If it reads the same, ie: the argued characteristics of red and truth are duplicated in langauge, then we can suspect the person is simply playing a language-game to win an argument, or atleast, not concede a point, lose an argument, what have you. "But my idea of red is different than your idea of red, and how can you tell me my idea of red is the same?" "You can´t go around telling people, you know, making arguments, that seem to tell me what I should think about the colour red." What is a language game? Well, let me put it this way, its like when a 5 year old repeats "Why?" to every answer someone gives to a question. Is the 5 year old on to anything? Not really. Besides, some circles close themselves, unbeknownst to 5 year olds and those barely passing an intelligence equivallency exam.
Maybe here is a better exposure of this type of bullshit. How can you tell me I am not a giraffe? I, Gareth, am a giraffe! Don´t tell me otherwise.... you can´t tell me ...anything! Basically, again, what this boils down to is the person not wanting to face an objection to a small set of their beliefs. They don´t want to hold that set of their beliefs to similar tests that they hold everything else in their life to. Why? Because they said so. They don´t think this way when crossing the street though, and I can prove it.
Continuing in the bullshit department, Im making a fair amount of headway with Heidegger and Sartre. There are problems with the Heidegger text I chose, its the first English translation made of the work (1965), though the translation is of the 7th German edition. I hope this accounts for some of the difficulty I am having in reading it. While reading about 40-60% of the time I understand what he is talking about, and have the expected reflective thoughts, the other 40-60% of the time I am thinking "what the hell is he talking about?" Most of those things I have understood are interesting. I know of at least one thing, fairly conclusively, that is just superfluous. The language he uses makes me lean toward this thesis with respect to much of what he is saying, but I will hold off for the moment. There are some ontological and metaphysical insights already... as far as I´m aware the entire book is ontology and metaphysics. But, he sure writes abstrusely, and that is a demerit in my book. Of course, with him and Sartre, I have not read either Husserl, or Hegel, in advance, who both influenced their work a lot. I have read Nietzche, Kierkegaard, Kant, Doestovesky, Descartes, etc, though so I´m not without reference.
Sartre is much more understandable, perhaps up to 90% on first read! For a text of philosophy that´s pretty good. Unfortunately he could not keep up the pace of his first few pages that I detailed in an earlier blog. The work is 700 pages... so this would have been hard to do. He´s fallen into the category of many great philosophers for me at this point, where he has a lot to say of value, but a few things he writes of are demonstrably false. His metaphysics, I think, might just be total bs, not in that it isn´t true, but in that he makes it out to be more than it actually is. Bad faith though, is a concept I was aware of before knowing the name, and a concept of Sartre´s I knew before I read him. With that being said, I´m fairly impressed by the idea still (disclosure: I´ve held it myself to be the case in people for a long time), and he elaborates on it well in the book. Bad faith is basically someone lying to themselves about what they are doing in life. But lying is not an exact term, as Sartre mentions, because lying implies one knows the truth. I lie to someone that my favourite movie is Chariots of Fire, but its really Pulp Fiction. This is different, since they are fooling themselves in a way unknown to them (until the moment they realize it of course). It is the active suppression of their own essence, to play games, to maintain appearances, and idealizations. Sartre gives the example of the prudish woman, but the person who isn´t honest with themselves seems to me, to be everywhere. Anyways, Sartre seems like a Descartes at the moment, they have some good ideas. And there isn´t anythign wrong with that. I think they´re kicking me out of here... but this is where I go when I get homesick!
Best
Gareth
Peru is an interesting place. Yesterday I met some Austrians. Today I met some english teachers at the cafe I was hanging out at. There were four of them (all female=, two dutch, one brit, and an aussie. Apparently they didnt need toefl certification to get the jobs they have. We hung out on the 2nd floor of this cafe while snacking and we watched a pretty good Natalie Portman movie. One of the main characters was De Goya, and the guy in no country for old men was really good in it. I showed the dutch girls to the hostel I was staying in, and I think they got a room. Thats what meeting people like is here, fleeting. I asked them what they were doing for dinner, and the UK and Aussie said they had a host family. Alright.
Peru reminds you of its third world status often enough. Sometimes it smells like the soiled barnyard. Fair enough. Sometimes it smells far far worse than that. There are obviously no emissions requirements on vehicles, so when you find a really bad stretch of smell you hopefully line that up with a truck passing by to belch some added noxious fumes into your olfactory lobe. Sometimes it smells like plain death.
Its a good thing I didn´t come here to be enlightened. Some of you can imagine, others will have to, how many people come here with that purpose, and how many are delusional. Others come to enlighten others, to spread the word of god. Today I ran into 10 women or so who were into spiritual healing and birthing. What was so funny was that they were all dressed counterculturally. They all had combinations of shalls, cloth handmade throws, dresses over jeans, beads and crystals, piercings, sandals, various nontraditional and dreaded hair, and tribal tatoos. They talked about the energy of the group, how they were just "feeling" all these things, like I "feel" as if I just need to be close to nature now, let´s go for that hike. I felt like laughing out loud. They were into the global agricultural movement. Reminds me of plenty of people in Kingston of course, in fact, I know these people all over the place. But the sad thing was that they were like 30-40 years old, and all in a self-reinforcing group of "individuality." This reminded me of a couple of things.
One of course was recent, when I was talking to Dan about poker, how someone wins and loses. And how I shouldn´t lose sight of this fact! Isn´t a winning player impoverishing others etc. Well, this isn´t necessarily related but basically the whole save-the-world from oppression etc movement seems to me to be doing a few things. One is they hate dicthomoties. I was reading a Queen´s Journal interview with some York uni prof who used to work for Queen´s, but was too oppressed by its anti-minority environment. That and its "culture of whiteness" of course. She proffered the following quote (I paraphrase very accurately): "Its like night and day... to use that racialized language."
What? There is of course the possibility that the Journal mistranscribed "its like black and white"... but either way. How do you get off calling night and day racialized? I know where you get off, one stop before the train rolls into cogentville. People hate what they perceive as inequality to a point where they are just, quite frankly, stupid. We must rid the world of all inequality... this extends to dichotomies and comparisons of course! Nothing can be better. I wonder what these people do at restaurants.
Now that reminded me of something else, so I know not which topic to address... I´ll go with that related to the glocal agricultural people. Tim joked that he thought I might be going to Peru (another type of Enlightenment journey) to try and solve 3rd world poverty or something. While of course, I´m interested in how this could happen... notice the language I use. When people speak of trying to solve 3rd world poverty the way that phrase is, leads into the idea that there is a solution, or some solutions, that can in fact be put in place. Read: imposed from the outside. Sometimes systems reach a certain state without outside interference. I think I´m becoming aware of ways in which "this could happen", my previous phrase. Elaboration maybe for another blog, but that is something to think about. Of course those who don´t understand what someone means by "the market" or someone who thinks 3rd world people to be as stupid as they are are disinclined to believe in a system changing states without interference. They usually don´t think in terms of systems or nonlinear possibilities anyways, or havent tried to.
Anyways, that gets me to one last thing. And of course, those who disagree with me will be given various options to critisize my position. The first being that my arugment is made short and blunt -- therefore it must not be considered. The second is simply not thinking about it honestly.
There are a bunch of people, in my life and in the marketplace of ideas, who make arguments like "maybe my truth is different than your truth" or "my idea of truth is different than your idea of truth" as well as, my favourite "couldn´t it be the case that something is and is not"? The last principle is that of excluded middle in logic, and some wish to deny it could be the case. I believe most definitions of the law of excluded middle are not not P = P , with the corrolary that not P plus P = 1, something like this. Anyways, to treat the anti-law of excluded middle people first. This isn´t an assumption. People believe the law of excluded middle not on faith, but on argument. The argument runs pretty simple: if something is red, isn´t it red? yeah, if it is blue is it red? no i dont think so. It blue is not red is not red red? well if blue is not red.... ok I won´t bore you further. Taoist, various new age spiritualists, and more importantly, people who don´t want to lose arguments or concede points, say, oh but it is truth and not truth, it is life and death, night and day, and they ramble on incoherently. When it comes to actual propositions, the times the law of excluded middle doesn´t imply is the times they want it to. By that I mean they apply it selectively, to certain philosophical arguments. Why? Because they don´t want to lose an argument, concede a point, or entreat an option. The degree of niceness with which someone points out you are wrong is not correlated to its factuality, just your acceptance of it. More importantly, these people are hypocrites, namely, because they haven´t been killed crossing the street. Is the light green and not green? I should walk anyways because Im here and not here.
Sure, continue to claim you aren´t convinced by the law of excluded middle, conveniently, in those areas where its application might lead to a logical objection to something you either may believe, or may have sympathy for not pointing out to others shouldn´t be believed. Just don´t expect anyone but the credulous and similarly unreflective people such as yourself to do the same.
On the first point, that of "my idea of truth is different than your idea of truth." I think I´ve come up with a really easy, really effective, test, to determine if someone is just talking bullshit when they talk like this. Insert the word "red" or "bacon" in every spot where you find "truth". If it reads the same, ie: the argued characteristics of red and truth are duplicated in langauge, then we can suspect the person is simply playing a language-game to win an argument, or atleast, not concede a point, lose an argument, what have you. "But my idea of red is different than your idea of red, and how can you tell me my idea of red is the same?" "You can´t go around telling people, you know, making arguments, that seem to tell me what I should think about the colour red." What is a language game? Well, let me put it this way, its like when a 5 year old repeats "Why?" to every answer someone gives to a question. Is the 5 year old on to anything? Not really. Besides, some circles close themselves, unbeknownst to 5 year olds and those barely passing an intelligence equivallency exam.
Maybe here is a better exposure of this type of bullshit. How can you tell me I am not a giraffe? I, Gareth, am a giraffe! Don´t tell me otherwise.... you can´t tell me ...anything! Basically, again, what this boils down to is the person not wanting to face an objection to a small set of their beliefs. They don´t want to hold that set of their beliefs to similar tests that they hold everything else in their life to. Why? Because they said so. They don´t think this way when crossing the street though, and I can prove it.
Continuing in the bullshit department, Im making a fair amount of headway with Heidegger and Sartre. There are problems with the Heidegger text I chose, its the first English translation made of the work (1965), though the translation is of the 7th German edition. I hope this accounts for some of the difficulty I am having in reading it. While reading about 40-60% of the time I understand what he is talking about, and have the expected reflective thoughts, the other 40-60% of the time I am thinking "what the hell is he talking about?" Most of those things I have understood are interesting. I know of at least one thing, fairly conclusively, that is just superfluous. The language he uses makes me lean toward this thesis with respect to much of what he is saying, but I will hold off for the moment. There are some ontological and metaphysical insights already... as far as I´m aware the entire book is ontology and metaphysics. But, he sure writes abstrusely, and that is a demerit in my book. Of course, with him and Sartre, I have not read either Husserl, or Hegel, in advance, who both influenced their work a lot. I have read Nietzche, Kierkegaard, Kant, Doestovesky, Descartes, etc, though so I´m not without reference.
Sartre is much more understandable, perhaps up to 90% on first read! For a text of philosophy that´s pretty good. Unfortunately he could not keep up the pace of his first few pages that I detailed in an earlier blog. The work is 700 pages... so this would have been hard to do. He´s fallen into the category of many great philosophers for me at this point, where he has a lot to say of value, but a few things he writes of are demonstrably false. His metaphysics, I think, might just be total bs, not in that it isn´t true, but in that he makes it out to be more than it actually is. Bad faith though, is a concept I was aware of before knowing the name, and a concept of Sartre´s I knew before I read him. With that being said, I´m fairly impressed by the idea still (disclosure: I´ve held it myself to be the case in people for a long time), and he elaborates on it well in the book. Bad faith is basically someone lying to themselves about what they are doing in life. But lying is not an exact term, as Sartre mentions, because lying implies one knows the truth. I lie to someone that my favourite movie is Chariots of Fire, but its really Pulp Fiction. This is different, since they are fooling themselves in a way unknown to them (until the moment they realize it of course). It is the active suppression of their own essence, to play games, to maintain appearances, and idealizations. Sartre gives the example of the prudish woman, but the person who isn´t honest with themselves seems to me, to be everywhere. Anyways, Sartre seems like a Descartes at the moment, they have some good ideas. And there isn´t anythign wrong with that. I think they´re kicking me out of here... but this is where I go when I get homesick!
Best
Gareth
Friday, January 23, 2009
Inca Trail Day 3
Once again pictures will have to wait.... apologies...
We woke early again. I thought this day would be the most difficult.
Without much fanfare I donned my pack, and we began our trek up the mountainside. I paced myself, with the full weight on my back. Instead of climbing Incan stairs with one foot per stair I would put one foot upon stair A, and my second foot on stair A. This conserved much effort and slowed my pace. I proceeded up for about two hours this way, never exherting myself very much. It was wet and slippery besides.
We stopped at an Incan site about an hour into our hike. It was a simple military checkpoint, but very well preserved. If you notice there are sometime windows flanked by encloves in the walls. These aren´t windows that have been "stoned" up, but places the Incas put offerings to their gods, etc. I´m going to forgo butchering the names of sites for the time being.
Past the checkpoint ruins we walked past a couple of high altitude lakes. To be honest the trek was starting to remind me of Mordor. Again my body was fine but the scenery and weather was now bordering epic. Later when I left the lunch tent it definitely felt like walking through a war zone... hard to describe why. After a time we reached the 2nd last pass and took a break. Javier had instructed us to take a small stone from the road up along our way -- here we would place that stone on idilic piles. They look exactly like inukshuks.
Later we came across a spectacular set of ruins. Originally a marketplace, the settlement of about 200 people perched a top a huge rocky outcrop. The last staircase up was probably the only time in the trip I was slightly afraid of the height. It was pretty spectacular. Most Incan settlements, with the exception of Cusco, it seems, were built on high land. This makes places easier to defend of course, and in the case of Ollantaytambo, was actually instrumental in providing the Incas with their only victory of significance over the Spanish. This settlement was fairly centrally located with respect to the four main settlements in the area, Vilcabamba, Machu Picchu, Cusco, and Choquequirau, hence its use as a market.
Later, after the last pass, we came across this religious centre. The terraces here are purely decorative, as opposed to agricultural. The fountains all still work 500 years later (almost always the case at Incan ruins). From here we never veered from stone stairs again. The Incan stone stairs really aren´t that great for going down, I´d rather walk down a dirt road at a constant incline to be honest. But, I suppose they solidified the path from washing out, which was probably a constant problem.
By this time I was flying down the path. I had pretty much endless energy. We had hiked maybe 6 hours and the rain had stopped for the moment. I was happily bounding down the stone steps, well ahead of the group. I arrived at the campsite sometime around 4 in the afternoon, and after being joined by the rest of the group, paid 5 soles for a "hot" shower at the "lodge". The shower wasn´t hot, and though the place was a lodge, it was more like a cement bunker with a huge reserve of cheap peruvian beer. We ate dinner, which was traditional Andean fare, and I drank said beer. Some of the Andean food was great, like Alpaca steak and potatos. Some was plain gross. I can´t remember the name of the jungle vegtable Christy recommended I try, but it was nasty.
I bought Javier a beer and he taught me how to toast his way -- to the Pacha Mama, or Mother Earth. You clink beers, say cheers to the Pacha Mama, and before drinking pour a drop or two of your brew onto the floor. This would seem to be borderline sacreligious in Canada, at least, according to the beer commercials. Only Augustine and Juan joined me in drinking, all the girls abstaining. We danced after dinner to Kumbia, which is basically Latin folk I guess. Its the music of the common folk I was told. I danced with everyone save Florencia, since I suspected Augustine knew I thought she was stunning. Man law was implied.
We headed to bed knowing we´d have to wake up at 4. This may have proven my undoing but I doubt it.... I already felt my stomach mounting a rebellion. I didn´t have my copy of the Prince with me though, so I was without any sound recourse....
We woke early again. I thought this day would be the most difficult.
Without much fanfare I donned my pack, and we began our trek up the mountainside. I paced myself, with the full weight on my back. Instead of climbing Incan stairs with one foot per stair I would put one foot upon stair A, and my second foot on stair A. This conserved much effort and slowed my pace. I proceeded up for about two hours this way, never exherting myself very much. It was wet and slippery besides.
We stopped at an Incan site about an hour into our hike. It was a simple military checkpoint, but very well preserved. If you notice there are sometime windows flanked by encloves in the walls. These aren´t windows that have been "stoned" up, but places the Incas put offerings to their gods, etc. I´m going to forgo butchering the names of sites for the time being.
Past the checkpoint ruins we walked past a couple of high altitude lakes. To be honest the trek was starting to remind me of Mordor. Again my body was fine but the scenery and weather was now bordering epic. Later when I left the lunch tent it definitely felt like walking through a war zone... hard to describe why. After a time we reached the 2nd last pass and took a break. Javier had instructed us to take a small stone from the road up along our way -- here we would place that stone on idilic piles. They look exactly like inukshuks.
Later we came across a spectacular set of ruins. Originally a marketplace, the settlement of about 200 people perched a top a huge rocky outcrop. The last staircase up was probably the only time in the trip I was slightly afraid of the height. It was pretty spectacular. Most Incan settlements, with the exception of Cusco, it seems, were built on high land. This makes places easier to defend of course, and in the case of Ollantaytambo, was actually instrumental in providing the Incas with their only victory of significance over the Spanish. This settlement was fairly centrally located with respect to the four main settlements in the area, Vilcabamba, Machu Picchu, Cusco, and Choquequirau, hence its use as a market.
Later, after the last pass, we came across this religious centre. The terraces here are purely decorative, as opposed to agricultural. The fountains all still work 500 years later (almost always the case at Incan ruins). From here we never veered from stone stairs again. The Incan stone stairs really aren´t that great for going down, I´d rather walk down a dirt road at a constant incline to be honest. But, I suppose they solidified the path from washing out, which was probably a constant problem.
By this time I was flying down the path. I had pretty much endless energy. We had hiked maybe 6 hours and the rain had stopped for the moment. I was happily bounding down the stone steps, well ahead of the group. I arrived at the campsite sometime around 4 in the afternoon, and after being joined by the rest of the group, paid 5 soles for a "hot" shower at the "lodge". The shower wasn´t hot, and though the place was a lodge, it was more like a cement bunker with a huge reserve of cheap peruvian beer. We ate dinner, which was traditional Andean fare, and I drank said beer. Some of the Andean food was great, like Alpaca steak and potatos. Some was plain gross. I can´t remember the name of the jungle vegtable Christy recommended I try, but it was nasty.
I bought Javier a beer and he taught me how to toast his way -- to the Pacha Mama, or Mother Earth. You clink beers, say cheers to the Pacha Mama, and before drinking pour a drop or two of your brew onto the floor. This would seem to be borderline sacreligious in Canada, at least, according to the beer commercials. Only Augustine and Juan joined me in drinking, all the girls abstaining. We danced after dinner to Kumbia, which is basically Latin folk I guess. Its the music of the common folk I was told. I danced with everyone save Florencia, since I suspected Augustine knew I thought she was stunning. Man law was implied.
We headed to bed knowing we´d have to wake up at 4. This may have proven my undoing but I doubt it.... I already felt my stomach mounting a rebellion. I didn´t have my copy of the Prince with me though, so I was without any sound recourse....
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Inca Trail Day Two
I took a lot of videos this day, as well as day 3 and 4. Currently video upload would take days in this internet cafe so hopefully I´ll add them when I return to Cusco.
We woke up around dawn to the crows of roosters. Stumbling out of my tent I couldn´t see much but mist and the outline of the surrounding mountains. Breakfast was bread with jam, hot chocolate, and weird ass pancakes. I paid Javier for the porter and unloaded my main pack. Then we were off, about 4 hours uphill. I took it easy to start despite the lack of extra weight. If day 2 was the hardest for most, it was the easiest for me. About an hour in it began raining and it didn´t let up for the rest of the day. There was a open ground stop about 2 hours in, with bathrooms and a place to buy water etc. The wind picked up and the exposed area was not a pleasant place to be.
I was in good spirits and not too cold. Of course I was in shorts and a sleeveless basketball shirt. Everyone else was freezing, but they were mostly from Argentina so you can´t really blame them. To combat the cold and rain I donned my rain poncho and put my hands in my pockets. I pressed on. The climb was a great view, as we hiked up the side of a mountain with vegetation reaching only about 2 feet. In other words one could see everything. I laughed hard when I passed a Brit who asked his friend "its hard to tell if its ever going to fucking end." Its always funny to hear the f word in different accents.
I´m lucky my body is resistant to cold. A man has an indicator unknown to women that lets him know how cold his body is by its proximity to the inside of his stomach. Since my hands were in my pockets I knew I wasn´t at risk to catch pneumonia. I got to the highest point we would reach on the hike, dead woman´s pass (pictured), at 4200 meters above sea level, after about four hours.
After the pass I headed downhill for about 2 hours, the weather not improving. At the bottom we got a good view of a long waterfall, not the only one like it we would see in these mountains. I tried to find basecamp, Javier had told me it was number 4, but sometimes Peruvians relish being unhelpful to strangers. Finally I met up with some of my group and since they had Spanish skills we combined my number knowledge to arrive at our destination. After lunch we had about 3 hours before dinner or so and I napped the whole time. I followed a similar routine after dinner. Meals had become a principle time of excitement for the group, as one Argentine, Lola, was beyond boisterous and laugh out loud funny besides. Before I had left for the hike Kerime mentioned to me that I had to place myself in spots where I would be forced to speak Spanish. These four days were it for sure! Though Javier spoke English as did Christy and Shawna, Javier was mostly only available on request, or when explaining various incan sites to us along the way. I spoke to Christy and Shawna everyday but it did little to overwhelm the deluge of Spanish. I definitely have a better grasp on the language now. I can handle the numbers, greetings etc, as well as almost all things around meals or at a restaurant. I know how to ask most questions.
Lola was a dead ringer for a girl I swam with for a few years, in both looks and personality. She gesticulated to a point where you didn´t need to know Spanish to know what she was yelling about. I frequently took the opportunity to poke fun at her, since I knew I was an object of jokes for the 5 Argentinian girls. Once after an long outburst by her and her friends I looked to Augustine, who spoke moderately good English, and he said "they are speaking nonsense" ..."Oh I know that" I said and the table laughed. Another time I remarked that it was a good thing to not understand Spanish when Lola was speaking.
The cherry on the cake was a time I sneezed at the table. Juan beside me said "Salu" (sp) which is effectively "bless you". I said "gracias" and Lola gave me a big thumbs up for understanding what Juan had said. I mocked her because it wasn´t that hard to realize what he had said. What else could it have been?
We woke up around dawn to the crows of roosters. Stumbling out of my tent I couldn´t see much but mist and the outline of the surrounding mountains. Breakfast was bread with jam, hot chocolate, and weird ass pancakes. I paid Javier for the porter and unloaded my main pack. Then we were off, about 4 hours uphill. I took it easy to start despite the lack of extra weight. If day 2 was the hardest for most, it was the easiest for me. About an hour in it began raining and it didn´t let up for the rest of the day. There was a open ground stop about 2 hours in, with bathrooms and a place to buy water etc. The wind picked up and the exposed area was not a pleasant place to be.
I was in good spirits and not too cold. Of course I was in shorts and a sleeveless basketball shirt. Everyone else was freezing, but they were mostly from Argentina so you can´t really blame them. To combat the cold and rain I donned my rain poncho and put my hands in my pockets. I pressed on. The climb was a great view, as we hiked up the side of a mountain with vegetation reaching only about 2 feet. In other words one could see everything. I laughed hard when I passed a Brit who asked his friend "its hard to tell if its ever going to fucking end." Its always funny to hear the f word in different accents.
I´m lucky my body is resistant to cold. A man has an indicator unknown to women that lets him know how cold his body is by its proximity to the inside of his stomach. Since my hands were in my pockets I knew I wasn´t at risk to catch pneumonia. I got to the highest point we would reach on the hike, dead woman´s pass (pictured), at 4200 meters above sea level, after about four hours.
After the pass I headed downhill for about 2 hours, the weather not improving. At the bottom we got a good view of a long waterfall, not the only one like it we would see in these mountains. I tried to find basecamp, Javier had told me it was number 4, but sometimes Peruvians relish being unhelpful to strangers. Finally I met up with some of my group and since they had Spanish skills we combined my number knowledge to arrive at our destination. After lunch we had about 3 hours before dinner or so and I napped the whole time. I followed a similar routine after dinner. Meals had become a principle time of excitement for the group, as one Argentine, Lola, was beyond boisterous and laugh out loud funny besides. Before I had left for the hike Kerime mentioned to me that I had to place myself in spots where I would be forced to speak Spanish. These four days were it for sure! Though Javier spoke English as did Christy and Shawna, Javier was mostly only available on request, or when explaining various incan sites to us along the way. I spoke to Christy and Shawna everyday but it did little to overwhelm the deluge of Spanish. I definitely have a better grasp on the language now. I can handle the numbers, greetings etc, as well as almost all things around meals or at a restaurant. I know how to ask most questions.
Lola was a dead ringer for a girl I swam with for a few years, in both looks and personality. She gesticulated to a point where you didn´t need to know Spanish to know what she was yelling about. I frequently took the opportunity to poke fun at her, since I knew I was an object of jokes for the 5 Argentinian girls. Once after an long outburst by her and her friends I looked to Augustine, who spoke moderately good English, and he said "they are speaking nonsense" ..."Oh I know that" I said and the table laughed. Another time I remarked that it was a good thing to not understand Spanish when Lola was speaking.
The cherry on the cake was a time I sneezed at the table. Juan beside me said "Salu" (sp) which is effectively "bless you". I said "gracias" and Lola gave me a big thumbs up for understanding what Juan had said. I mocked her because it wasn´t that hard to realize what he had said. What else could it have been?
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Inca Trail Day One
I woke up around 545 and packed my remaining belongings. At 6, as expected, the hostel´s doorbell rang. I thanked the owner, with whom I had reserved my room again for the 25th, and left a note with her for a Brit I had spent the rainy night before talking with in the lobby but didn´t get the chance to say goodbye to.
We took a cab down the stilted cobblestone streets and it became clear that my decision to previously walk everywhere was a good one. The cab dropped us off by a really nice luxury bus, and I was the first tourist on, predictably because of my location in San Blas above the city. We set off to pick up the rest of the group.
After taking a circuitious route around the city we ended up with 13 tourists on board -- one, Juan, was the first I met, an Argentine who spoke 5 words of English. We were to be tentmates for the next three nights and much smiling and nodding took place.
As we left Cusco we climbed onto the top of the Andean highlands...approaching snow capped mountains. It was breathtaking -- mist swirled around as we dipped and climbed lush green hillsides before descending into the Sacred Valley, from where we would depart on foot. We travelled through Urubamba and arrived in Ollantaytambo where we were informed we had 20 minutes to buy last minute trinkets. Stupid as I was, I did nothing but sat in the city square (plaza de arms) and soaked up the sun. If I was smart I would have walked to a hostel, made a reservation for the night of the 20th (since I was planning on coming back here after anyways) and dropped off the majority of my weight for them to store in the interm. Instead I was hiking the Inca trail with all my belongings, and it quickly became apparent that I was carrying way too much weight.
We hopped back on the bus and drove for anouther 45 minutes to the start of the trail where we were given snacks for the day and set out. We took a group shot at the entrance and I got double for my money since a donkey walked infront of the group on the first go with my camera.
We entered through a "control" -- just a checkpoint to make sure we had passports and were registerred to do the trail for that day. The quotas now are quite strict. I got through second and in 5 seconds, the guy hardly looked at my passport and stamped my ticket. I crossed a bridge over the wild Rio Urubamba (pictured) and waited as instructed by Javier, our guide. I ended up waiting a long time, since one girl had left all her documents on the bus. We laid in the sun for an hour and half or so before finally beginning our trek.
We hiked five hours the first day, and while I managed to keep up with the lead pack for the first four, I began to redline afterwards. We stopped briefly for a pretty gross lunch, soup, pasta, coca tea, and grape drink. The quality was bad but I wasn´t expecting anything good so it wasn´t a disapointment.
After lunch our entire climb was uphill and it began spattering rain. I began thinking things like "why did I pack 4 books?" "why did I pack a metal chain bike lock?" and "why did I pack a tent!?". My pack was heavy. I had also not paced myself for the first 3 hours and began a gruelling uphill climb through redline, both aerobic and lactic.
The terrain could be worse, but not by much. The majority of the trail, if not mud and rocks, is Incan cobblestone, and slippery when wet. By the time we reached base camp the first night my calves and quads still had some juice, but my hip flexors and glutes had absolutely bottomed out. Of course, I had decided to wear jeans and a longsleeve for the first day, which I sweated through profusely. I laid on the ground of Juan and I´s tent for 20 minutes without moving while supper was being prepared. Its hard to say how much I was carrying, but it was certainly closer to a porter´s weight than a tourist. I would say atleast 60 pounds. In later days when my packed was soaked it was heavier, of course.
Javier had noticed the weight and politely mentioned to me that day 2 one had the opportunity to pay a porter to take one´s main pack. I gratefully paid the next morning, knowing that day 3 and 4 I would have to repeat the feat of day 1 on much harder parts of the trail. Since the person who arranged my tour described the first day as easy and acclimatizing I honestly didn´t know if I was going to make it at one point of the first day. I had gotten in great shape from last summer until November, but had taken most of December and early January off. I was still in good shape, but obviously not my best. Meanwhile my fellow tourists were carrying their five pound day packs around looking fairly smart.
Hiring the porter was a no brainer -- not only did I not have to prove to myself I could push myself physically but I also could get the full white man colonizer experience.
Dinner was of similar quality and after meeting and talking with the only two other English speakers of the group, Christy and Shawna from Oregon, I collapsed in my tent. It was around 730pm.
Ollantaytambo
I am in the small village of Ollantaytambo (pictured throughout).
I want to finish climactically with day four of the Inca trail so Ill give you the update from when I left Machu Picchu yesterday until now. If you have problems arranging nonchronological things chronologically I suggest you avoid Pulp Fiction. Also, this post contains mature subject matter and those offended by non-sugar coated allusions to river-rapidesque bowel movements should be cautious reading on.
We took the bus down into the city that basically exists because of the tourism of Machu Picchu, Auges Calientas (sp). A bunch of us from the tour group, the two Americans and five Argentinian girls grabbed lunch at an ok restaurant in town. My body felt pretty fine considering everything but my stomach decided now it was time for a full coup d´etat. In the hour or so we were there I destroyed the restaurant´s bathroom on three separate occasions. I still had an appetite and had Hawaiian pizza, trying to be as conservative with my food choices as possible. Our guides Javier and Willfredo met up with us and we said our goodbyes. We took a picture while Javier (left) joked about appearing in National Geographic.
I caught the train out of town towards Ollantaytambo, 4 of 5 of the Argentine girls being seated with me we met a group of 3 other travellers who had also just done the Inca trail -- Frank from Germany and Leonard and Peter from the US. We were seated in two rows of four facing each other, and what a riot it was. How much I missed jokes in English! Leonard could speak English and Spanish so he translated between me and Lola and the other girls -- we also had Frank who spoke Russian German and some broken English and Spanish -- so communicaton was a fun time. I overheard Peter telling one of the girls he went to vet school in Grenada for the past 3 years so later I predictably said "Hey Peter I overheard you went to Grenada for vet school." Leonard, in straight man character, looks menacingly at me and says "You overheard wrong dog!" -- moving his head back and forth and making a gang sign. They must have thought I was crazy because I was dying laughing, and it was then I realized how deprived of English interaction and American pop culture I had been for it to be that funny. Of course Leonard later dropped a classic McBane simpsons quote -- "The goggles do nothing!" -- and once again I was in stiches.
The train got stopped on the tracks and I was happy about it, giving us more time to talk about everything under the sun. When we got into Ollantaytambo it was dark and I said my goodbyes. I headed to the station´s bathroom where I made another janitor´s day miserable and to be perfectly frank, made quite a mess. Tired, sick, wet, and carrying an already heavy pack that was soaking wet I walked by the Urabamba river up to the city square where I oriented myself and found the hostel I was looking for a few blocks north. When I got into the hostel I told them I wanted to stay a few nights in a single and they said they were full. What followed was probably the most stereotypically backpacking event one could imagine.
A tall gringo, about 6´4 with messy overgrown facial hair and a thick alpaca poncho came through the lobby and was heading out the door for dinner. The owners stopped him and introduced me to him. He was from France, spoke good English and Spanish, and was named Mike. Mike was staying in a room with two single beds and they asked him if he was willing to have me stay the night with him. Obvious free spirit that he was he had no problems with it. The price was right too -- 15 soles a night (4.50US ish). We hit it off being single travellers in Peru and Mike having gone to Colca Canyon as I am planning to later. He was also reading Orwell´s Down and Out in London and Paris which we agreed was a really good book. Anyways, tired, wet, etc, I talked with him for 20 minutes or so before having an ice cold shower (no hot water at this hostel) and crashing.
Today I woke up to the roosters cry with no signs of Mike -- he left eary for Machu Picchu. I made another visit to the bathroom, but again, my body felt pretty good. I had slept well. My calves were still (and are still) in knots and my quads were still sore, but nothing I wasnt used to. I stepped up my defenses, instead of going with the pepto pill and oil of oregano drop to start the day I downed two immodium´s. The battle for control of my stomach was on. I hung up all my clothes in various creative ways around the room and bathroom.
I grabbed a small breakfast, explored this town of 2000 in about 30 minutes, got some sun, and headed to an internet cafe. After doing a little surfing I was about to write this very blog when my stomach began another assault on my constitution. This time if felt like food might come up. Things got bad fast and I stumbled in the street getting back to my hostel. Thankfully I got to my bed in time to curl up into the fetal position. It was about noon and I didn´t get out of bed until 6, despite the hourly heehawing of a nearby donkey and the hostel owner´s choice to play polka music in the courtyard outside.
I talked to the owner and arranged laundry for all my clothes. Im currently wearing my bathing suit, pajama pants, sandals with no socks, and a t-shirt that managed to survive the storm. The Peruvians obviously give me funny looks with this get up but I don´t really care given my state. For dinner I was hoping to try a nice restaurant, there are a few in town, but I can´t trust anything of that nature. I realized what food I can trust. I bought a snickers and twix bar, along with more water and gatorade. The four items cost more than my restauarant-served breakfast.
That brings me to now. I´m going to take it easy tonight and stay tomorrow night in the town as well. Hopefully tomorrow Ill get to explore the Incan ruins towering over the city. Immodium, hydration, and rest are the tactics I´m going to employ. Currently a poor Peruvian boy, about five years old and dirty as can be, has wandered into the cafe and is poking at my keyboard against my requests. I don´t know what else to say... to him or about him... its quite bizarre.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Strange places and wet clothes
Im in a frontier town surrounded by green mountains. Everything I own is soaking wet. I stink. My stomach has betrayed me. But today I was in Machu Picchu. Im catching a train at 6 to a small town in the sacred valley called ollataytamo. There should be a clean bed and a hot shower. hopefully an internet cafe with usb (unlike this one) so I can write a long blog an upload some of the shots I took. I have so much to say! Its unlike me I know.... I think Ill divide it into 4 posts covering each day on the Inca trail. Im going to take it easy for atleast 2 days so there will be plenty of veg time in the internet cafe.
Shoutouts to all my hommies
Gareth
Shoutouts to all my hommies
Gareth
Friday, January 16, 2009
Rained in...
So it began drizzling as I made my way back to my hostel from downtown to settle my bill during business hours. This is the rainy season I thought? It had drizzled a total of 2 hours in a week of sunshine and perfect 22 degree temperatures. Then things picked up, and drizzle turned to downpour. By the time I hit my hostel´s street it was hailing. Its been continuing for about 2 hours now with varying degrees of intensity. No real problems now, my t-shirt and shorts are hung up to dry and my fellow hostellers, from England to Washington, are holed up safe and sound.
The problem is tomorrow I begin hiking the Inca trail. It is not going to be a fun time if it is constantly raining, especially from a mud under feet perspective. Its not like at the end of the day we get into a house or anything either. Tents have a way of keeping you cold and wet. Ive gone through some lengths to try and ensure they know this is the hostel Im staying at to pick me up tomorrow at 7am.... but I didnt ever talk directly to someone in Cusco. We´ll see.
I found out some other interesting things. There are only about 6 traffic light intersections in the whole city, and they work slightly differently than in Canada. Namely when the little walking man turns from green to red it doesnt mean you have 5 seconds or what have you. It means cars can go. Of course since my Jwalking skills have come in so handily I was overconfident and never invested in watching how said pedestrian system worked until I found myself running across a four lane street and practically jumping over the last lane/car to the curb. Two things about Peruvian cars, one good, one bad. Good: they are all crappy volkswagens with hoods like 2 feet off the ground (good for leaping over). Bad: they dont care if they hit you.
Over breakfast at my new favourite crepery I met a dutch man, about 35 Id say, whose sole purpose in coming to Peru was to learn from the shamans. Thats two shaman students in one week I´ve met! He seemed quite normal too. Im not sure what else to say except that I made him laugh when he asked me why I was staying in Peru for so long and I told him that it was cold in Canada this time of year.
The sky is starting to clear, I think Im going to grab some pizza or something western for dinner tonight in anticipation of my arduous journey. I havent made it past 7pm any night so far... fingers crossed this is the night! One more note to induce jealousy -- in preparation for my 4 day hike I got an hour long full body massage today. I wont even say how cheap it was for fear of having no friends upon my return.
Next post wont be until at least the 20th, most likely the 21st since I will be on my way to Machu Picchu!
Best
Gareth
The problem is tomorrow I begin hiking the Inca trail. It is not going to be a fun time if it is constantly raining, especially from a mud under feet perspective. Its not like at the end of the day we get into a house or anything either. Tents have a way of keeping you cold and wet. Ive gone through some lengths to try and ensure they know this is the hostel Im staying at to pick me up tomorrow at 7am.... but I didnt ever talk directly to someone in Cusco. We´ll see.
I found out some other interesting things. There are only about 6 traffic light intersections in the whole city, and they work slightly differently than in Canada. Namely when the little walking man turns from green to red it doesnt mean you have 5 seconds or what have you. It means cars can go. Of course since my Jwalking skills have come in so handily I was overconfident and never invested in watching how said pedestrian system worked until I found myself running across a four lane street and practically jumping over the last lane/car to the curb. Two things about Peruvian cars, one good, one bad. Good: they are all crappy volkswagens with hoods like 2 feet off the ground (good for leaping over). Bad: they dont care if they hit you.
Over breakfast at my new favourite crepery I met a dutch man, about 35 Id say, whose sole purpose in coming to Peru was to learn from the shamans. Thats two shaman students in one week I´ve met! He seemed quite normal too. Im not sure what else to say except that I made him laugh when he asked me why I was staying in Peru for so long and I told him that it was cold in Canada this time of year.
The sky is starting to clear, I think Im going to grab some pizza or something western for dinner tonight in anticipation of my arduous journey. I havent made it past 7pm any night so far... fingers crossed this is the night! One more note to induce jealousy -- in preparation for my 4 day hike I got an hour long full body massage today. I wont even say how cheap it was for fear of having no friends upon my return.
Next post wont be until at least the 20th, most likely the 21st since I will be on my way to Machu Picchu!
Best
Gareth
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Day 5
Above is the main square of San Blas, the artists´district in which I am staying, overlooking the city. Below is a wideshot of Cusco.
Scroll to end of entry for video of the view of Cusco from the top of the city... took 12 minutes to upload I dare not try and move it. I just realized why spell check doesn´t work, namely, it is in Spanish and recognizes every word as wrong, overflowing the broadband connection.
I´ll start on Monday. Basically I woke up, had a shower and free breakfast, paid my bill, found a very cheap place to stay, and slept most of the day. Getting to the hostel wasn´t too easy. I had initially decided to retain my trepidatious ways for Monday and relocate to a cheap hostel on the same street as the hotel I spent the first night. The number of my hotel was 561 and the hostel was 501... and since the numbers descended as one went down the street (and hill) one would think that would be the direction to go. Of course not. After going down the hill and not finding the place I checked the map in my guidebook to find the place was actually at the top of the hill. So I went back up the hill. Of course the address is no longer a hostel. Back down the hill. Ive observed this lack of order phenomenon elsewhere. Dare I speculate it is a characteristic of the third world?
I ended up staying in probably the worst hostel in the old city, despite recommendations from my guidebook. I should have bargained the price, but I didn´t, and I paid for a double instead of a single 30 soles instead of 20. The room was right off the reception and it was noisy all day and night. This didn´t prevent me from sleeping most of the day. There weren´t even four walls, one of the walls was just a sheet of glass covered by translucent curtains. The lobby was filled with pigeons. I couldn´t decide whether the owners thought this a rustic addition or they simply couldn´t dispose of the pests. Either way it wasn´t endearing.
I managed to get up and change some traveller´s cheques and grab some food and water. I went off to find a better place to stay, which I did (photos below), and reserved for the next night. It was the same price as the crappy one, and once again, I couldn´t bring myself to haggle since I felt the owner was rescuing me. Bargaining for 5 soles seems pretty ridiculous as well, even though the people here expect you to do so, since 5 soles is like 1.70 or something like that. Ive been sleeping a lot, at first to acclimatize, rest from exercise, rehydrate, etc. On tuesday afternoon I had eaten my first salad and began to feel sick. My throat closed a bit, and my body began to ache. Shit I thought, my stomach has been fine until now. I woke up at 3 in the morning and realized it wasnt too bad. The cue -- my left tricep felt like someone had hammered a four inch nail into it. It was, on schedule, my yellow fever innoculation running its weeklong course. Another good travelling tip -- take innoculations in advance. In 24 hours it was over but I had slept the majority of another day away.
Walking around I met a few locals my age. One was training to be a shaman. It ran in the family apparently, his father and uncle also being shamans. His english was good enough to carry conversation and he asked me if I believed in the ´"energy." I asked him to be more specific and he talked about the power contained in the earth, in matter. Though taken literally his words are fairly true, but since I knew what he meant I told him I didn´t believe. He went on to describe the shaman´s ability to predict the future, manipulate the energy etc. and my initial response became increasingly accurate. Rafael was 24 and said he has 11 years of training before he could before a shaman. I shook his hand and refrained from telling him he was wasting his time.
I visited the Museo de Inka on Tuesday (courtyard), and it was impressive. Im accruing a pretty broad knowledge of Incan history, culture, etc. There were mummies there that make the Egyptian mummies one sees look like innocent Halloween costumes. There was even a 2 month old mummy which I can only describe as freaky. Like most important buildings, the original Incan stonework still serves as the buildings foundations. No pictures were allowed to be taken here :(.
Yesterday I woke up early and visited Qorikancha, during the 15th century the most important chuch in the Incan empire. It originally was covered, almost extensively, in gold, apparently on the outside and inside walls. A great deal of the empires gold statues and artifacts also were kept here. When the Spanish invaded they stripped the walls of the gold, and melted it to make coins. Astonishingly they did the same to all gold statues and artwork. They literally built a colonial style palace, and church on top of this. The stonework of the incas is incredible... you need only to look at the pictures . Throughout the past 500 years Cusco has been affected by many earthquakes. Often, as in the case of Qorikancha, the colonial structure atop the incan foundation is destroyed, yet the foundation remains intact. The church was last destroyed in this manner in 1950. Again no inside pictures, so you´ll have to believe me that it was beautiful.
Hopefully I will be going to the jungle on the 29th of January, for 5 days. Booking the trip is not without problems. Its low season and most tour companies aren´t running, they need atleast two people for a tour. Also, every business in the city essentially offers to sell this kind of trip so one knows they are all simply middlemen. I hiked down the hill to a tour operator I know is legit yesterday, and received mixed news. First they offer a 5 day trip, which is the perfect length of time I think. I wouldn´t mind going 7 or 8 days, but I´ll get to that later. They also already have a 5 day trip leaving the 29th (they already have 3 people going), which is again perfect for my schedule. The great thing about 3 people already going is that the price I would pay for the trip is an incredible amount less than they paid. Now the problematic part -- this is the most expensive tour company in the city. What the middlemen quoted me for an 8 day trip is a little bit less than their 5 day, after my huge discount for being the 4th person on.
There are reasons they are so expensive. They are the only tour operator that actually has a lodge in the middle of Manu national park, one of the most biodiverse regions in the world. Other tour operators either don´t enter the reserve, instead cruising the river that runs along its boundary, or they make camp in tents in the park. I can pretty much be certain the quality this company will offer. The first day we leave Cusco at 6am and take a bus east through the cloud forest region, stopping at some sites of cultural and historical interest before arriving at their own private lodge for the night. This day is a separate ecological zone than the jungle. The cloud forest is inhabited by foxes, cats, alpacas, llamas, plenty of birds, and the speckled bear (rarely spotted of course). Day 2 we drive to the river and then take an 8 hour journey by boat along the Madre de Dois river for 4 hours, then into the actual national park, and up Manu river for 4 hours. Basically here we can see everything, caiman, giant otters, macaws, pink river dolphins, monkeys of 13 different varieties, a ton of birds I wont list, and even, if lucky, a tapir or a sleeping jaguar. We sleep at the lodge and have the option of a morning paddle. They have a few observation sites set up depending on what kind of fauna watching you want to do. From the breakfast room (and this is according to independent sources as well as the company) one can watch a family of giant otters who make their residence at that part of the lake. The next few days is more of the same, with the option of a canopy walk, 76ft above the jungle floor. If I go Im sure Ill give a full recap.
Suffice to say, going on this trip with only 3 other tourists sounds pretty incredible. The company is really interested in me coming, as it is with anyone registering this late, and I left my email address with them, the agent telling me she would email me a lower price if they could offer. I did already get the innoculations and malaria medication in preparation of going to the jungle. There are two major impediments to me taking this. The first is cost -- I´m not going to lie it is 900USD. I´ve got a lot more than that on me in traveller´s cheques alone, plus I have a full visa, some cash, money in the bank etc. But its still a lot, 300 more than I paid for my Inca trail tour -- and I did want to come home with some money in pocket. That being said the original price the 3 already taking the tour paid was 1720US. The tour company is the only one I am presently 100% certain of legitimacy and quality. There are plenty of reasons for it to be expensive -- there is a quota of 3000 people days to be spent in the reserve a year, and its apparently the reason why the biodiversity remains in full view.
The other impediment is weather. There is a reason not everyone comes here during this time of year, since it is ´rainy´ season. I haven´t seen any rain in Cusco of significance yet. It drizzles for like an hour or two most mornings then is sunny and perfect temperature for the rest of the day. Its like 22 all day and Ive already gotten sunburnt. But the jungle is a different story, and if its going to rain for 5 straight days and Im not going to see any of the wildlife there isn´t a point. I´m going to check the forecast and try and get some independent information. I don´t want to go back to the travel company lest they get the feeling Im as interested as I am. There is one other company Im going to check out today that is not a middleman, according to my guidebook, so we will see if they are going. Like I said, not even the middlemen people have a tour currently booked.
This morning I caught mass at ´La Cathedral´ -- currently the most important church in Cusco, and perhaps, Peru. It is also built upon Incan foundations, which are pictured. A famous stone, the 12 sided stone, is part of this foundation, and pictured. I don´t know enough about the method of masonry the Incas employed, as of yet, to talk about it, but its stunning the same. Going to mass around 715 meant that I didn´t have to pay for the tourist entrance fee (take that hostel owners). Its apparent where some of that Incan gold went -- the gates surrounding the ten or so shrines are about 25-30 feet tall and encased in gold. Its pretty over the top. Numerous oil paintings can be found inside, including one surviving from 1650, and another depicting the last supper, only with local cuisine. The only thing about attending mass that was difficult was pretending to pray in the pews. Mostly I looked solemn and tried to figure out what the other people were thinking about. Again, no pictures allowed, so outside shots only. I got stabbed in the clavicle on the way out by a lady selling pinned pictures of the virgin mary. She just pinned it to my collar and asked for money. I gave her a sole and thanked her, faking some reverance for mary´s image. The second picture is of the famous stone of 12 sides, which forms part of the foundation for the catherdral.
Im going to wander around most of today I think, and probably try guineau pig for dinner. There are about 6 other sites of historical interest which I won´t be visiting this time in Cusco. The reason for this is that you have to buy 1 ticket for them all and it only lasts for 10 days. This city tourist ticket also lets you access 8 or so Incan sites in the sacred valley, just over the hills of the city. Im going to try and buy one that begins on the 20th. When I take the train back from Machu Picchu I plan on getting off at Ollantaytambo, before Cusco, the most northern site along the valley and the only place where the Spanish suffered a major defeat in the entire war of conquest. The fortress is still intact and over the next four days I plan on visiting all the major sites of the sacred valley, ending in Pisac, a rural fishing village with a lively Sunday market, overlooked by preseved terracing, before returning to Cusco around the 24th.
This will give me the next 4 days to use the ticket to see those sites in Cusco I missed. Assuming I take the jungle tour, it ends in the jungle city of Puerto Maldano (sp) on the 2nd, and I´ll have to fly back to Cusco. Ill probably only stay a night before taking a bus to Puno (as per my original plan) to get in the 3rd. I´ll have missed the first day of the festival (as described earlier) but it lasts two weeks so no big deal.
Thats about it for plans.... today Im probably going to take an hour of Spanish lessons. I get better at Spanish by the hour, but I remain enfeebled. There are all types of lessons available but my plan was to master my two phrasebooks before taking one so I dont waste my time there. My brain has continuously performed a strange actoin, when confronted with Spanish I often think or even respond in French. Even though the locals know a great deal more English -- ie it isnt in my interests to do so. I speculate I have an alternative language button in my brain and since there is only one language there its the one that gets called on when foreign language is heard and the button pushed. French isn´t, by any strech, useful either. A knowledge of eytmology is way more instrumental. I keep saying ´"ou" "aussie" "est-ce que" "pense" and similarly stupid things. Sometimes I just freeze. I saw the cleaning lady yesterday morning and the conversation went like this her: "Ola", me: "Ola, beunos dias", "beunos dias, como estas (sp)", "...... esta bein". Esta bein means "its ok" from what I gather, and isnt a usual response to how are you. She gave me a befuddled look.
Often when people speak to me, like waiters or waitresses, I smile and nod. Then if it becomes clear they´ve asked me a question I have to say "yo no entiendo" which means that I dont understand.
How is it that I can read a word in English once and have it in my vocabulary for the rest of my life but when it comes to Spanish (and French for that matter) I have to repeat a word ten times out loud to have a 50% chance of retention? And even if I retain it there is no way I can pronounce it correctly for the first 50 uses. And we aren´t talking about pulrichitudinous here, I´m trying to remember what "sixty" is and that febrero, or something close to that, is february. One thing I´ve noticed in every subject matter is once a person is the least bit intimidated by it, they often label it as esoteric and therefore inaccessible to them from that point on. I see and speak to scientists, remakring on history, politics, economics, or philosophy "oh but I dont know any of that kind of thing" -- while those in the humaniites say the say of all technical science. Of course the same effect can be observed by both groups, and people in general, when mathematics is mentioned...and the effect is also observed with the majority of those over 45 with respect to computers or the "internet".
What Ive sen is that this demarcation actually does more to impair the practical aptitude in said scary subjects than the original handicap (if there was one) from which the person suffered. Of course, poinitng this out seldom goes over well and its easy to see why. I think French has always had this stigma for me, yet overcoming it isn´t as simple as realizing Ive marked French in this way. The only time I recall being confident in French was after I finished grade 12 and that lasted about 8 months. I think it may be like this -- telling someone who fears some subject (always irrational) that there is nothing to fear but frea itself may be true, and they may recognize it as true, but it isn´t a gameplan by which to unlearn that fear. And now realizing it but still being powerless isnt going to make people happy.
I can think of plenty of mathematicians and scientists who I have done the above disservice to with respect to politics, history, economics, or philosophy. Dare I name names? Ill resist the temptation but I think this case is more common than the converse since those in the humanities dont often talk about math or science (if theyve done said brain self labelling) while the scientist or mathematician is eventually ocnfronted with politics for example.
What may already have been inferred is that in almost all cases I doubt there is anything cognitive or structural impeding a persons understanding of a subject. Its pretty simply, effort and volume breed specialization and ease of comprehension, but there isnt a law forbidding polymath specialization, comprehension, or affinity. I wonder if this phenomenon falls under the umbrella of the following effect -- people´s eyes glazing over or more precisely their brains shutting off when confronted with a text full of polysyllabic grandiloquence. There seems to me to be two important remarks to be made here. First, a number of academics and writers write in unclear terms on purpose in oreder to a) incite said effect above in readers thereby ensuring their perceived erudition b) obscure the fact that they arent saying something new, and or important, and or intelligible. How many teachers, professors, and academics are simply good at playing the looking smart game? One could name names. The other remark though is a type of "on the other hand." Why would someone shut off their brain when confronted with new words? I see them all the time and have devloped two one step solutions, the first is dictionary.com and the second is opening my dictionary. Youve learned new words before....dont stop now! Well that was quote the tangent but if you are one of the many who dont think I have anything interesting to say you havent been reading for a while. More to say, will have to wait.
Life is good in the Third World
Maybe not for everyone but it certainly can be for me. Yesterday I had the following for breakfast:
- a glass of milk and a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice
- 2 pieces of toast with blueberry jam
- a buttered croisant
- a ´pain´ of fresh bread
- a huge bowl of yogurt with granola, pear, banana, apricot, orange, and peach in it
- a slice of proscuitto ham
- a crepe filled with spinach, tomato, and ricotta
By the time I thought to take a picture all the food was gone. I haven´t eaten too many crepes in my life, but this was easily the best one ive ever had. Total price: 4.75 USD.
Update: I had a similar breakfast this morning for 3.75. I felt obliged to tip, even though it is not customary here. Longer post coming....
- a glass of milk and a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice
- 2 pieces of toast with blueberry jam
- a buttered croisant
- a ´pain´ of fresh bread
- a huge bowl of yogurt with granola, pear, banana, apricot, orange, and peach in it
- a slice of proscuitto ham
- a crepe filled with spinach, tomato, and ricotta
By the time I thought to take a picture all the food was gone. I haven´t eaten too many crepes in my life, but this was easily the best one ive ever had. Total price: 4.75 USD.
Update: I had a similar breakfast this morning for 3.75. I felt obliged to tip, even though it is not customary here. Longer post coming....
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Alive
I am in Peru.
I arrived in Lima at exactly midnight, after a two hour delayed flight, six hours in the Newark airport, and waking up before 2am. I slept on the plane maybe 5 hours and 2 hours at the airport, but its not the most restful sleep. I got some shots from the plane to Newark at dawn (above).
I learned one thing immediately upon arriving in Lima -- book plane tickets in advance. When I arrived I didn´t really want to stay, I wanted to get straight to Cusco. Unfortunately only two companies had their offices open at 2am Sunday morning, and the third, which had the cheapest price according the my research didn´t even have an office at the airport. Good planning. I asked the LAN rep how much the 540am ticket to Cusco would cost and it was outlandish, so I told her I´d think it over. She referred me to the other company saying they were selling their 6am at half the price. StarPeru is the company name and is reputable, so it was a no brainer. The rep showed me the half price on the calculator, I said bueno and then as I was handing over my passport and credit card the price miraculously increased by 25 USD. I asked her if she understood why I wasn´t happy being told one price and then another but she feigned ´no entiendo´ -- I don´t understand. I told her I´d think about it and was now in a really sour mood. The sleep deprivation and travel probably had a lot to do with it.
I grabbed some breakfast, I have no idea what it was but it was good -- I would describe it as 3 pizza pockets baked from scratch with beef in 1 and spicy chicken in the other 2. Still cranky but rehydrated (gatorade is cheap here) I ventured back to StarPeru´s desk. A new man was there and he told me that the Cusco trip was now 25$ more than the last time ie 50USD more than originally. I wasn´t pleased. I told him the story and then waited for the woman to return. They weren´t interested in admitting what was going on, it was obvious they thought I had to have the ticket and were going to fleece the gringo up. I told them as much and went back to LAN. Their price hadn´t changed, and I was off to Cusco by 6am. I ended up taking the exact same flight (ie no time saved or wasted) at the exact same price as I could´ve booked weeks ago on the internet. If only Taca had an office. I knew they supposedly offered half of what I paid for a tuesday morning flight. But then again, I didn´t want to stay in Lima until then.
It ended up being a good choice, I sat between two Peruvian businessmen and the flight was smooth as imaginable. The descent into the city, shortly after dawn, was incredible. For ten minutes we came down through layers of mist surrounded by lush green mountains that occasionally transitioned into snowcaps. From above I saw terracing inherited from the Incas consume entire mountainsides. Finally, to hit the runway our pilot dipped into the valley and turned at what seemed like an 80 degree angle. I actually thought he sped up as the city appeared under us -- but the landing was smooth as possible. LAN gave me some breakfast and agua (water) before we landed so I decided to make up some of the cost of the flight by not hiring a taxi into the main city. According to my guidebook there are much cheaper colectivos, but, on my first day here, I was not prepared to get on one. They aren´t real busses -- they are just boxy 1980s minivans. They screech to a halt when hailed and have 10 people packed into them like a clown car.
The walk seemed pretty risky at the outset, given my gringo appearance and tired state. But it was worth it, because for the first 4 kilometers I walked uphill I saw the kind of poverty that isn´t cute (like the trinket sellers on every corner of the old city). Peru was ravaged by an earthquake a couple years ago and the effects are evident. Roads are just mud, and the av del sol, a main street running through the city, is no exception. There are island dividers, but in places one side of the mud road is just littered in rocks, debris, and holes, so two way traffic switches to the one side that is intact. The sidewalk is similar -- the concrete is so overcome in places, by mud and wear -- you would think they didn´t have concrete at the time they must have poured it. The dichotomies were pretty strong -- if a place wasn´t abandoned and I´d say half were on this portion of my walk -- they were very secure, with barbed wire, electric fences, and 6 foot iron gates. Stray dogs are everywhere, but I saw the most incredible thing -- they not only know how to cross the street, they understand traffic signals! It was a pretty uncanny sight when I saw two dogs waiting for the light.
I was still pretty cranky, I knew the route I was taking was haphazard and my bags were beggining to weigh on me by 830, as the town began to see life. I also didn´t know where I was going per se. I had decided when I got on the plane to Cusco I was going to get a nice bed tonight and pay a little extra. I would have to recover and I would probably make the best value of it since I was likely to spend most of my time in the room. The other reason for this was the necessity to guard against altitude sickness -- I had already violated rule number 1. I had taken a hike with a full load on my back for hours uphill at high altitude sleep deprived and dehydrated. My body felt no different from a workout but I was going to rest it nonetheless. When I arrived in the old city I whipped out my handy guidebook and found what looked like a great option. It was at the top of the city, overlooking everything, but not far from anything by any means. All I would have to do is navigate to it. As I wandered the road and sidewalk (which had since become concrete) transitioned again into cobblestone. I walked by ancient Incan walls and through the main plaza de arms. It was spectacular but I was too tired to stop. I finally had to pause for breath as in the last leg of my journey the road took an unyielding 35-40 degree incline. The 10 degree incline I had been hiking up before now didn´t seem like much.
When I set foot in the door -- I can´t remember my hotel´s name right now -- the owner was a breath of fresh air. Hablas Ingles? Yes. Do you have a single? Yes. Bathroom? Yes. How much? Prices are on the wall (ie they dont change from what the guidebook said they´d be based on my disoriented and exploitable appearance). I´ll take it. It was 930 and she let me in -- her son guided me through a veritable maze of terraced roofs and balconies to my room. I´ve attached some pictures from my room, and shower (last -- and having rotation difficulties).
I thanked him, undressed, and collapsed. I woke up at 4 this afternoon, and to my delight my shower produced hot water. Clean and rested, but hungry, I made a plan to grab some food at a local (guidebook recommended) restaurant and then to the internet cafe before coming back and resting again for the night. Of course, my plan to stick to the reliable for the first day failed since the restaurant was no longer at the location the map said it would be. I wandered the streets until a guy hawked me down and told me about his menu. I had dismissed a lot of people before but I was hungry, and he offered a full meal for 15 sol (4.50US, give or take). I sat down and had a wonderful meal, pisco sour to start (the pino colada-esque drink of choice for Peruvians), delicious garlic bread, avocado soup, finished with french fried potatos, coca tea, and alpaca steak. Alpaca is definitely closer to steak in taste than chicken and it was really good. The potatos were very hearty and filling. I only drank about a third of my tea, it was pretty evident after a few sips it was the stimulant it is advertised to be. The price was the price and I thanked the owners. One funny thing about the meal -- upon hearing I was Canadian the man offered to sell me some weed. I politely declined but two groups of tourists came into the restaurant to make said exchanged in the 30 minutes I was there eating. I wonder if all restaurants are like this.
That brings me to now. I´m going to spend the rest of the night at the hotel sleeping. I´m looking forward to the morning where I´ll have a wake up call, hot shower, and free breakfast. Hopefully I will be energized for the hardship to come, as I´m going to transfer to a hostel that´s a quarter of the price or so per night without any of those ammenities. Tomorrow I also have to get to the bank to change some traveller´s cheques, and I´ll generally wander around. There is a tourism card for about ten of the main sites, and I haven´t bought it yet since for four days come Saturday I´ll be in Machu Picchu. So my plan in the interm may be to see all those sites not covered by the card, arrange a trip to the jungle after my return from Machu Picchu, and learn some Spanish. One thing has become very clear very quickly here. If I don´t start speaking and understanding Spanish I am not going to survive.
Best
Gareth
Sunday, January 4, 2009
One week
“Although my travels covered only a part of southern
- Harold Bingham’s Preface to his Inca Land: Explorations of the Highlands of Peru, 1922 (written after his rediscovery of
Less than a week from now I will board a plane to
Then again, I am hoping to find, and find myself in, interesting circumstances. On that I watched a funny and worthwhile (if just for the food) Peruvian episode of No Reservations by the delightfully sarcastic chef Anthony Bourdain and was reminded of a question Tim asked me that I may as well repeat the answer for those wondering. I am not traveling to Peru to seek enlightenment or spiritual peace – I’ve already benefitted from the consolations of philosophy, which thankfully, have not proven permanently transcendent as of yet. While I will continuously renew my subscription to this benefit package, my philosophical and existential views are not in crisis – I’m seeking a different kind of consolation – that of delicious food, adventure, natural beauty, new people, and those little umbrellas they stick in the fruity rum drinks I’ll be drinking at ten in the morning on a hot sunny beach when I reach the coast.
The 7th is my 23rd birthday and on it I’ll be getting a shot for yellow fever, which apparently, upon contraction by a westerner like me, has a 30% kill rate. Impressive. I asked the travel clinic advisor if the rate was correlated to imunocomprimised demographics (since the shot is 100$ or so) and she said she didn’t know of any data that pointed that way. Though I think it is likely I won’t volunteer myself for any sample outside of the control group.
Other trip planning finalities include thinking about what to pack, testing out my new digital camera, and getting a haircut. Not much to finish up in
I know I’m packing the following:
- a single person tent
- a sleeping bag
- some emergency blankets
- swiss army knife
- a bike lock for my backpack
- a pair of jeans, a few shorts and shirts, one dress shirt, running shoes, sandals, a healthy amount of socks, underwear, undershirts, a pair of pajama pants (double as longjohns) my thick hoody, a tuque, sunglasses, and a rain poncho
- a camera
- passport, money, documents, etc.
- a notebook and pencil wrapped a few times in duct tape (a handy grip and a useful amount of duct tape!)
- a roll of toilet paper (apparently essential as it is not provided throughout much of the country)
- travel toiletry kit and sunscreen
- my 2
- Sartre’s Being and Nothingness, Heidegger’s Being and Time, and Thomas Mann’s The Magic Mountain
- fabric softener sheets
Now, I didn’t come up with the idea for fabric softener sheets, but apparently it’s a very useful thing to just keep them in your pack on these types of adventures, since they don’t weigh anything and when clothes get wet or sweaty in between times you can access laundry they keep your bag fresh. Thomas Mann was a late addition to the reading list, recommended by mon ami Benoit for such an adventure. J'évalue son jugement hautement, donc je suis excité pour lire le travail. I read Hobbes’ Leviathan on the long train rides around
“Introduction. The Pursuit of Being. I. The Phenomenon. Modern thought has realized considerable progress by reducing the existent to the series of appearances which manifest it. Its aim was to overcome a certain number of dualisms which have embarrassed philosophy and to replace them by the monism of the phenomenon. Has the attempt been successful?”
Wow. What kind of dressing down of Descartes and Kant are we in for here? Soon after: “In the first place we certainly thus get rid of that dualism which in the existent opposes interior to exterior. There is no longer an exterior for the existent if one means by that a superficial covering which hides from sight the true nature of the object….[on physical-chemical actions that make up electric phenomenon, as an example] No one of these actions is sufficient to reveal it. But no action indicates anything which is behind itself; it indicates only itself….Thus we arrive at the idea of the phenomenon such as we can find…..Relative the phenomenon remains, for “to appear” supposes in essence somebody to whom to appear…..”
And then: “The appearance does not hide the essence, it reveals it; it is the essence.”
For some reason I thought I might run the risk of being bogged down by a morose work of pessimism. That might still be the case. But regardless, it already seems to me that it has that classics feeling of a leviathan, a meditations, a discourse on inequality – one is presented with immediate, powerful, and compelling assertions of philosophical revisionism. Whether it’s a romantic but ultimately fallacious revisionism a la ‘man is born free but everywhere he is in chains’ I will have to form an opinion of later.
Enough philosophy. I promise photos and videos will dominate these entries when I have something to photograph or videotape -- until now be satisfied with this photo taken by Bingham of an unexcavated Machu Picchu, nearly one hundred years ago.
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