Back Home in Holland

Back home.

I left 10-05-2004 to make a one year trip to Canada and the USA. I came back 03-08-2009 with the visuals of 23 different countries on my retina. In more then five years I traveled from Alaska to Argentinia. Not really in one line, but zigzagging sideways and up and down. I lived nine months in Calgary with Graham, in total I spend three months with Ed on his boat Ketevara sailing down the Pacific coast of Mexico, one month I enjoyed the splendor of the Colorado Autumn with Chris, one month I tried to learn some Spanish in San Pedro de Lago Atitlan in Guatemala, I hitched to Norway from Holland for a month with Zeph, I spend one month commercial fishing on a little island in Alaska, I lived six weeks with -32C in the Yukon, one month I spend in romantic Paris with Zeph, followed by three months in the jungle in Costa Rica and Bolivia captured my heart and made me live in a forgotten little town called San Lorenzo for six weeks. The last month I hitched with Marie to Slovenia and Italy. The rest of the time I've been on the move almost every day.

The Buttery Blue and the Silver Spirit were my homes for twenty months, I still miss them every day. It's without doubt my favorite way of travel. I slept in hundreds of different beds to wich I was invited and almost a year in my tent. And my backpack has been my only possession for about two years. I took 13 flights, owned two cars, traveled by boat, train, hitch hiking and a lot on foot. I met more people then I could ever count and most of them still cross my mind every time. I have a bad memory, but I will never forget the gratitude and hospitality from all those.

Back to my parents in Baarlo, to the house I've been born in, the womb where all my love has grown. Where I can recieve and give without question.

I spend one month with them, taking it very easy. The weather was fantastic this August and so it was very relaxing to just go with the flow, organize what needed to be done (insurance application, my first mobile phone, meeting friends, getting my future house deal-done and networking for a job). It was getting-used-to to all those rules. They say Holland is a free country but I've never had so many obligations I had to take in consideration.

So I decided to get my new bike (my mums old one, taped up and with my India-bells) to Utrecht, 150km away. It was the best thing I could do to kick-off from 'being on the road'.

Off to Utrecht.

From 12pm Thursday till 2pm Friday I biked throug little forrests, along sloten through a flat landscape. A very different one from the mountains I'm used to by now. Holland is beautiful in it's own way, but pretty boring in another.

Dutch fletness with windmills here and there.

Also Dutch 60-year old woman invite you to sleep in their home on the dike, and so I came well rested in Utrecht.

I've only spend some time here with Siebe, a boyfriend I had who studied here. But the city had always held a very positive feeling with me. It's the only reason I knew I wanted to live here.

A super nice friend, Frederike, helped me finding a squatters room where her boyfriend had lived before.

The famous Dom in the heart of Utrecht.

Utrecht has lots of grachten, canals. Autumn has started in Holland so the trees are changing color and the leaves are starting to fall.

And don't miss the millions of bikes, an impressive, mind-blowing sight in this biggest student-city in The Netherlands.

The Old Windmill, First on the skirts of town, now all surrounded. We're growing fast.

Back to School.

It took me one month before I got Luc, my 'houseboss' (the guy who squatted the place five years ago with his sister) to make up a little go-commer, so I just organized everything and knocked the door one morning with my parents van containing my eight banana boxes, a big round chair and a 15Euro Marktplaat bed.

We moved in. My parents the biggest help in the world. It was so nice to create a home with others instead as normal on my own.

So this big building was born in 1912, to serve as a primary school, it has done so for a long time and still there is a creche on one side of it.

The other side, 2/3 of it, Stood empty for five years before Luc and Magda occupied it five years ago.

In about eight days we moved his stuff out, cleaned a poster wall, painted white and two hues of green, moved my stuff in, my mum cleaned, my dad build a kitchen around the coldwater sink, I decorated and collected furniture from the street. Besides that I was offered many hand-me-downs from people who knew I was gonna live here, so cool!

This is my classroom!

You enter......

....... and see there my travels unfold in decorations.An old classroom from 8.5m by 8.5m with a sealing of 4m. The huge windows from the first floor look out over the Majella park on the other side of the busy street (it's never quiet here, something I miss a lot). Already more then 20 people have had tea with me on the couch.
The highlight is my bed. It's absolutely amazingly cool. It's always full moon in my nest and if you can't sleep you may pinch yourself on my dad-made spinning-wheel so you vanish in 100years of dream-rich sleep.

It's great living here, I would never have thought it would look like this so quick. The first while I felt like a stranger to my own house, especially when friends came visit, but now that I've danced her in it starts to feel homey more and more. Maybe I should give it a name. 'Mathu's Place'

For the activities held in this building, mostly Tango-Salons and private parties, and the costs it carries, we, living here, all help in sustaining it. We pay a small 'rent' and electricity + water + internet costs. We try to make a cultural centre and so a stronger vote to keep the place to ourselves.

http://www.v420.com/

There is one point of shame to my home: you have to wear lots of my own knitted socks, scarfs and hats because it's pretty cold in Winter-time. The heating system worked with oil but has failed many years ago. The leaking tank has been dug from the schoolyard with organization of Luc and Magda.

In the five weeks I've lived here so far I met my new school-mates a little. Luc lives here full time, his sister Magda only one or two nights after her Tango nights. Micha and Lyske live downstairs of me, Ibrahem from Senegal has lived here for 4 years too. And then there are two classrooms occupied but the people don't live here.

Micha and Lyske have given a swinging Rock 'n Roll party because they both finished their education. She flew to Equador and Peru to travel with a friend for six weeks and in Febr they go to India. Like that, you never stop traveling even if it's through someone else.

A job has finally worked as well. I started to be ready with decorating when the urge to be productive and earn money took over. Other things had occupied my mind before. Within one week I was working full time at the 'Winkel van Sinkel'. A huge Grand-Cafe with many different possibilities. Lunches, patio's, a tapas night restaurant, weddings, club/disco's, dance matines and more. I don't think I'll get borred here very soon. And because we work here we may take free Salsa lessons. I'll start this Thursday, I'm curious how much all those boys in Latin America have taught me.....

So it's all going smooooth. My home-number is 420;) and I will amaze everyone with how much I love to be here. I've been a few Saturdays to town to find my new danceplace besides my huge room, to drink some beers, I've had already some sleepovers with mum and friends, I start to know where everything is and the best of all, the reason, love is back in the air. While my favorite season is showing it's beauty through my window I still flutter around and within. I can't think of anything to wish for and say thank you.

I did make one more trip before work took over. A hitch to the beach. It went really fast, I got dropped off in Scheveningen, the most popular beachtown in Holland with the Pier and it's beach parlors.

A 25km walk trough the dunes brought me to Katwijk aan Zee from where I hitched back. But not after a fresh dive in my own brown North-Sea.

Life is one big trip!

It's the only thing I will answer when people ask me if it's difficult to be back. What is being back. who goes back. Can we not only go forward? Where I am right now is not were I was two minutes ago, let alone five years. It's not important where you are or what you do, it's important you do and enjoy while you're at it. Dear friends,

Life is different now, I do the things many of us do in my own way and so my website will be less frequent. I would love to ask you to write me to MathuBloom@hotmail.com for personal responces and to visit de Vleutense weg 420 if you are somewhere near. I would love to have you for tea and diner.

Tripping with Marie

Five weeks with Marie.

First Marie managed to get us work at Roskilde two days before it started. We could gooooo (240Euro is just too much otherwise.)

Roskilde is a 120.000 person big festival of 9 days with many bands, artists, stages and activities. The first five days is spend camping-in-big-numbers, after that there are four days with music and performances.

We would not have participated to all days camping (it's just a lot of drinking) if it were not that our first workshift was Friday evening. The afternoon that everybody collects in two fields (East and West) to wait untill 3am when the gate is stormed and rundown. This year though, a lunatic decided that it was time to set a record of earliest gate-smasher, and he broke through at 9pm the evening before, while we were relaxed guarding a watchtower with some equipment and fridges with our free lunchfood.

It was amazing!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A massive field, totally empty, only plastic tape to separate the field in blocks, was filled in litterly three minutes time. How is this possible. Tents were put in circles to make 'camps', you had runners and carryers, people yelled, stumbled and I've never seen so many mobile phones in action. What an organization filled with chaos, it must be like the stocks. Depending who you are which one is more fun.

Three minutes after the gate had been trampled:

We finished our first of three, eight hour shifts (we always had to watch one part of the camping area's. No fires or cooking, little cleaning, making a bonfire and BBQ, making sure nobody jumped the fence (still three people managed to do so with us, hihihi.)) and found our own camp on the other side of the festival (a 45min walk). Marie had friends who came the next day.
My little tent which was Marie's and mine home during the festival and the following hitch:
Because we worked we had different bracelets and could walk at the tru festival area from camping to camping. Before the music days it was really peacefull and interesting here. Quiet lightshowes, a free coffee and internet area, nice green grass, tent building and tecnical personal.
Lightshow of the biggest and most famous Roskilde tent, the Orange Stage:
A game during the camping days = try to roll-down your opponents full beercan. You see what I mean......

Maries biggest performance was Nick Cave, so we stood at the front of the Orange stage that time, but the rest of the bigger names (Nine Inch Nails, Coldplay, Faith no More, Oasis, Pet Shop Boys, Slipknot and Kane West) were not for us. We went most to the Cosmopol and Astoria where bands played like: Amadou & Mariam, Analogik, Deadmaus, El hijo de la Cumbia, Gangbe Brass Band, Hanggai, Hjaltalin, Kasai Allstars, Shastriya Syndicate and Rokia Traore. World music that makes you listen. With new instruments, amazing players, very different beats, the best dancing and new discoveries.
At the front with Nick Cave:

Even at the sunniest Roskilde (we did not see ONE cloud) you get dirty feet:

Because of the third shift at Saturday night we missed Grace Jones:

Marie and I Sunday afternoon after her friends had left (work the next day) so we had our own side-garden. We were still gonna go strong for one more night:

The saddest part came after those fun, dancing, smoking, meeting, listening, wondering days.

Those lazy, half-drunk, too-much-money-having kids were just able to pick up themselves, but could not be bothers with theis often perfectly new, in-tact, spotless unneccesary 'junk'. We stayed untill the very last (we were watched/waited away) and this is what the Roskilde crew has to destroy:

And that for just ten days of fun and drunkenship. I had to cry and knew that I would never get used to this anymore. I really thought about how we could prevented or use this. A subject for discussion.

THEN

A new chapter started. After some relaxed days at Maries place, we moved her room to a bigger one in the house and we were very well-done by this, we 'planned' a hitch route through the South-East of Europe: Slovenia, Hungary, Slovakia and back to Denmark through Poland.

Lets start with that we had about 80 rides with every possible transport. trucks with fat Polish drivers, cabriolets with handsome, rich dentists, families with kids in the back, young boys with weed in the back, elder woman and horney guys:
One of the two cabriolet rides:

After a 1,5 day drive through Germany, where we flew with 180km/h over the highways, we were picked up by a man who enjoyed our enthusiasm about finally reaching the mountains and who drove us all the way (an extra hour for him) to the top of 'Der Drei Zinnen' (3000m) in the Dolomites in the North of Italy. Yes, we ended up in Italy, the rides had all gone too much straight South But this was incredible too.

At this marvelous lookout point at the foot of those Drei Zinnen:

We got dropped off on request and were totally wild of excitement. Never expecting to arrive here on the second night of our vacation. We walked 45min to another hilltop from where we had a view TO 'Der Drei Zinnen' and were blessed with a super starry sky, solitude and super good feelings; the first and most dramatic campingspot.

Just after we had set up camp (around 4/20 and sunset):

Later in the morning, after a bright blue and sunny sky with views, this fine mist came in and made us walk back through white curtains:

That same day we decided to pass through Venice. I had been there once with my parents when I was 14, Marie had never seen it. We were so close, so lets get South untill the Adriatic sea. Just before sunset, just 20km out of Venice, we got our last ride of the day: "Marie!! He's not going to Venice, he's going to the beach!" I yelled. "Let's go!" replied Marie.

And so we ended 30km East of Venice on the beach where Marie swam at night, the beach-night guards gave us insect repellant and Redbulls and we slept on the humid beach.

We even had neighbours:

A nice beachmorning with swimming and being lazy followed into getting and being in Venice.

The Republic of Venice (118 small islands with 177 canals in a shallow lagoon connected by 400 bridges) was a major maritime power during the Middle Ages and Renaissance, and a staging area for the Crusades and the Battle of Lepanto, as well as a very important center of commerce (especially silk, grain and spice trade) and art in the 13th century up to the end of the 17th century. By the late thirteenth century, Venice was the most prosperous city in all of Europe. At the peak of its power and wealth, it had 36,000 sailors operating 3,300 ships, dominating Mediterranean commerce. The houses are build on wood piles, they say the city is not sinking anymore, the historic centre with the many sights has 62.000 inhabitants and transport is entirely by motorboat (gondolas are only for tourists) or foot.

A paradise for photographers and curious people with it's many colors, corners, small streets and surprising and fancy architecture:

We slept in one of the parks just outside the historic centre and so we saw a very untouristic part of Venice with normal prices and the regular inhabitants of Venice.

The next day we left again and were straight away picked up by Fabio, a cool and cheerfull guitar player who took us under his wing and invited us (after a beer) to his house and the party for 'Festa della Redentore', a huge tradicional celebration to commemorate the end of the plague of 1577.

This is the first day when Fabio and a friend took us out for a delicious Italien lunch:

And after that a boat ride to two of the many islands around Venice. This one is more structured, VERY colorful and finished:

The other one had a tower way more on angle then the tower of Pisa:

Fabio had to play at a restaurant, (he's really good), and we watched. At the end of the night the owner of the place invited the giggling ladies (us) for strawberries with champagne. For sure he hoped more out of it ........ We don't think so, thanks for the champagne:

We all make mistakes and so we did ours right here; we left just before the real party started, after we had just spend the whole day hanging around the preparations.......

In Trieste, Italy we jumped off the boulevard/beach with way to many others:

And from there we got picked up by Robert Redford. He really looked like him and lived in this house with 8 or so Lipizzaner horses (they are born black but turn white with the years):

He was Italien, spoke perfect english (he was a know journalist) and lived just over the boarder in Slovenia. He had been and seen a lot and was very interesting to talk to the first day.

The city of Nove Gorica:

Next important pick-up was with Luca. He and his buddy were underway to a river-picnic to bbq with colleagues and friends. In the five minute ride we were invited along and when it turned out that the whole group worked for a rafting and canyoning company it got even better. The next day we would go canyoning with Luca. The young boys from Slovenia treated us very hospital, equal and with fun. It became a really comfortable meeting where there were no feelings of sexual discomfort.....

This is the last massive, 20m, waterfall from which you slide at the end of the canyoning tour:

It was Really cool this canyoning, I had done it once in New Zealand, Marie never and she had a little fraight for hights as well. But she managed almost all jumps and all slides from wicked waterfallsnwith enthousiasm.

Luca and Marie:

A volleyball game and drinking beer kept us busy that evening. I so badly wanted to climb this pointy mountain behind the town of Bovec, it really was the most beautiful area of what we've seen in Slovenia:

Next day brought us to Bled, a very touristy town made famous through a beautiful turquois lake with a little island with a quite church and a massive cliff with a castle in the backdrop:

The water was really warm, full with swimmers, and tempted us to swim to the island to explore it and it's pretty church. A very relaxing afternoon.

We were getting really brown by now, such good weather:

And more hitch hiking, on our way to Ljubljana, the capital with 280.000 inhabitants:

Here as well they have a sort of 'Christiania' like in Copenhagen. Relaxed, hippy-like, where I found the skirt of my life for 4Euro in the secondhand store.

It was 4/20:

These kozolec (hayracks) were seen all over in the countryside. The ground in the Alpine and hilly areas can be damp, therefore corn, wheat and hay are hung from the racks, allowing the wind to do the drying faster and more thoroughly:

Then we got picked up by a group of five man and one woman who invited us for coffee (we were invited for coffee VERY often by the way, even I drank a coffee or ten this trip!). After this cheerfully first meeting we were taken up the mountain (with one stop at a restaurant for a giant pizza) to a ten-house-town because they had nothing to do, were a little tipsy and good-willed. One of them was a little drunker and fell asleep with his arm in the pudding.

We slept on a forrest path on the Austrian boarder where a hunter warned us for bears and by coincident became one of our rides the next day.

We ended the hitch of that day in Vienna, the capital of the Republic of Austria with 1.7 million inhabitants, founded around 500BC. Marie had been here two times before and so she guided me through the first district with it's huge, majestic white buildings, imposing private homes and important monuments. Vienna also has many very pretty and peaceful parks and so it was not hard to find a quiet place to sleep.......:

Untill we woke up in the morning and my Peruvian handmade bag with my Bolivian covered diary (with all the e-mails of the people I/we had met), my Panamanian etui with digital camera with photo's of this trip, my passport, drivers license, bankpass, 4/20 and other dear souvenirs was gone. Shit!

The passport and drivers license were send by mail to the police four days later. The police send it to the Dutch ambassy who destroyed the passport because they are legally not allowed to send it by mail but did send my license to my home address in Holland. Nothing else is (yet) retrieved.

And then through Czech.

We took all the small roads and enjoyed the farmcountry and an invitation of Helena who brought us to Jan in the little town of Sušice, where this free man runs a private, simple, relaxed manege with 13 horses. He had many more animals and it was a girl- and childrens playground. Jan and Helena too embraced us like we were long-time friends and we visited different bars and a beautiful lookout over the Bohemian Forrest of Czech, really really apriciated.

Jan had green fingers besides being good with animals and it was often 4/20.

Jan, Marie and I above the Boheemse woud:

We left them around noon, those wonderful people in the South of Czech, and made a long and boring 24 hours hitch to Denmark with a last sleepover at a petrol station.

It was a fantastic vacation, Marie is such an easy, cheerful, charming and clever friend. I admire her busy life in which she is a medical student, sets up researches and is involved in projects as a volunteer which she knows to combine with all those cool travel adventures.
You're absolutely not Stuu-Pid my lil' Denish flower.

I love you!

After a few last days in Copenhagen we had to make an end to this togetherness, Marie had a new course to attend and I had to really start my new life in Holland.

I was not sad, more excited, scared, full with questions and insecurities but not at all loosing my positivity.

This new period in my life is gonna rock as well!

PS:

Dear Fabio in Punta Sabioni, Fabio in Nova Vas and Luca in Bovec,

As you might have read above is my diary with your directions stolen in a park in Vienna while we were sleeping. We are so sorry that we are not able to trace your names on the internet combined with all the information we remember. It is impossible to send you your deserved photo's we made together and to remind you of my 30th birthday party the 10th of March next year. We're soooooo sad about his. We hope you still feel the appreciation we have for all of you. I hope you might remember and search mine or Marie's name one day to find us somewhere, we should be easy to find.

Sorry!

Argentina Mate's to my Home

I THOUGHT I had just one more day in San Lorenzo, but as it turned out it became (yet) a few more. Not only did I have a problem with my money (it got stolen and I had to find a way to get some for my last two weeks), but also my ankle was still very bad and people tried to help me in every way.

On advice from Mami I went to a curandedor, armed with coca, cigarettes, alcohol, llama fat, special seeds, minerals, opal, lavender, thyme and a bag with mandarines, chocolate and rice to pay the guy (you should not give money) I visited Iris' uncle and was cleaned from 'la tierra'. There is no way of explaining this, unless you understand something like 'mother earth' and that she has bad spirits as well who can invade your body or soul. You actually do that yourself, you invite them. I learned a lot and watched carefully how he used everything in an offering, listening to his soft wispered chantings and prayers, the smoke that was used to purify and clean my sore parts and my mind. Absolutely interesting. The days after, my ankle felt absolutely better, but shamely enough it went bad again.

These are the things I had to buy at the witchdocters market in town.

But then it was time, time to get going.

It was hard to say goodbye and I truly hope to have another visit to San Lorenzo in my lifetime.

The boarder was only a three hour busride away, I started to hitch but soon was forced to walk. A huge demonstration was going on in the last four days and the whole road was littered with roadblocks made by the farmers who wanted more money. The three hour trip took me two days! Lot's of waiting, 9 rides, way more money, new friends along the way .... a real Bolivian adventure.

And then, finally, I entered Argentina. I have to admit that I did not make too many photo's. I did a lot of hitch hiking, drove through an autumn landscape of browns, yellows and reds. The temperature was warm in the day and cool in the night. Some of the landscapes we incredible, absolutely widely, immens, outstretched. It all reminded me a lot about the USA, including the hospitality of the people.

I had to cry too. The western world with its modernity, it's unneeded luxeries, so much waste, so much unnessesary services. It was difficult, I became very quiet at first.

Can you belive me that I truly forgot that we have warm water coming from the tap in our kitchen!!!!!!!

I slept for the last times in remote mountains, here in the beautiful area of Cafayate. Met really really hospitable and friendly people, friendly in a very different way. There is just more money that can be spend.
A land-famous icon in Argentina is Gauchito Gil. Three times they told me his story and what I get out of it is that he is like The Robin Hood of 30 years ago. He stole from the rich to give it to the poor. Many places along the road are dressed in red flags and rags with a littel house where you can burn candels and ask him to forfill your wishes.
Upon arrivel in Cordoba I called a friend of a friend, who had no idea who I was or that I was coming, and got some more true argentina friendlyness. The hous with youngsters was all open doors and learned me how to make fresh pasta The second night we made a good bonfire in the backyard before we headed out to the discos in the dance quarted. It became a super late night, and when we returned home at six thirty in the morning I decided to hit the road straight away, without sleep. I made it all the way to Buenos Aires that day.

My last truck driver was another talker, listener and helpful hand. We were relaxed with each other straight away and the time and landscape flew by. Upon arrivel I did not get a hold of my Bolivian friend so we made a nice 'Bife a la criollo' in the truck and slept beside eachother ...... he in his truck, me in my tent.

The next morning he woke me the most Argentina way, with a mate. Mate is a fruit which gets dried, opened, hollowedout and made into cups, with carvings, pieces of leather or metal and maybe a stand because the bottom is often round. The herb they use for this bitter tea is finely cut branches and leaves of the mateplant. Most people mix it with some sugar. The mate gets filled, hot (NOT BOILING) water gets pored on, the herb sucks the water, you poor a little more and so some extra water is floating around. This gets sucked out with a bombilla (straw) of metal with little holes. Even if you are with ten people, still only one mate is used. The water always goes into a thermos form which you poor little by little sips and share the mate around. I think many of you will understand I LOVED this particular tradition of Argentina.

And then my time in Buenos Aires started. Initially just one day, but because a wrong flight scedule through my company I missed my plane and got booked two day later. The first night strolling around I met Javier. And those three days we spend together, sightseeing around town, enjoying the incredible tango culture in the plazas, drinking mates in the parks, eating Sandwiches de Vacio (the meat in Argentina IS good, very tender), chatting, watching photo's and cooking meals.

It was a very special meeting, we both learned a lot about subjects that are still a curiosity.

Sandwich de Vacio

The grave of Eva Peron.

And then it really was time to get my ass to Europe. It was a ten hour flight to Mexico City where I slept at the airport in my sleepingbag, had a wonderful day strolling around the city eating taco's and started the 11 hour flight to London.

London, Buckingham palice with the Big Ben. We did make a stroll along a few of the famous sights, me and my friend and her boyfriend. Ineke and I had met nine years ago in New Zealand, she's from Holland, Joe is from England. It was wonderful wonderful to catch up with her. Way to little time to talk and watch photo's.

My last hitch before home went from London to Stonehenge to the ferry that takes you to France and on to Belgium and into Holland.

Stonehenge, a world herritage site, build 3000BC, is a little blown up in my opinion. The stones are bigger then you think, the rope is too far away to really appreciate that, and the most mindboggling thing is how they got thos 'blue stones' all the way from Whales, 240 miles away, to this magic, curing or special place. The questions is what makes the place.

Back to three-lane Dutch highways.

Home sweet home.

My feet could go on the table, I was free to open the fridge, everything could be told in confidence, tea in abundance, my teddybear slept in my arms and my mum was without worry for two whole nights. Things got told, shown and shared, my dad cooked wonderfull meals, I biked through my hometown (I can still bike) saw many friends of my parents, called my own and made another attempt to pack my bag for a last hitch through Europe. Yes, tomorrow I will be off to Denmark, to my best friend Marie with who I'm gonna dance like the devil at a one week festival and then to go hitching around. It all doesn't matter, she has her last exam tomorrow, me a 8 hour hitch, then the adventers and relaxing can start.

There I went, walking out of San Lorenzo, back on the road again. It did not feel good, but it was the only thing to do. I hitched to the Tajzara lakes, icy blue jewels in the yellow alti plano. Back to altitude, I puffed myself and my way too heavy backpack up the hill for an hour to get a great vieuw of the plane, camp and feel utterly alone.

Next day further to Tupiza, beautiful road, very little traffic but I made it with a truckride. In the back, laying down under the canvas, looking up at the stars when night fell and the dust became worse.

Tupiza is a very tranquile little town, I dove straight into the market the next day and had a relaxing day in the streets. I liked the friendly atmosphere but very much disliked the many tourists that all came down for the obvious beauty of the surroundings and to make a trip to Salar de Uyuni from here .

I met up with some very cool people in my hotel, it was a nice hotel with a sunny room, a roof terrace and a kitchen to cook and make tea. I really enjoyed my time here for the travelers I met.

The third day I took off hiking for the day and night. It really is an amazing piece of teritory, beautiful red fin formations,

huge red spirals, a rock forrest, colorful mountains with minerals and awesome quebradas and canyons. I got myself walking in whatever direction I wanted and made a circle without a map. I felt free and good. My campingspot was one of the best, how do I always find these endless vieuws?

It was my plan to head out of Bolivia in the far South West corner of the country, but it turned out that this route was very difficult, there was ABSOLUTELY no traffic to hitch, there was no bus, it was a harsh and cold area with nothing but pretty lakes that I wanted to see. Another options was to get to Uyuni and take a bus there. But this bus would not pass the pretty sights and costed a lot of money.

I missed them.

My friends Iris and Sergio and all the others in San Lorenzo. I talked a lot about them, wrote messages with Iris and kept thinking about how I could come back in a few years. When it turned out that I would not go to Chili but straight to Argentinie I decided to make a turn to the north, see a new road and pass by my favorite town once more.

None of them knew anything, after two days hitching I just showed up at Iris' work. She was so surprised! The same for everybody else, Lupe jusr ran to mee and jumped me, Sergio did not believe his eyes and squeezed me, Yamil laughed and lifted me from the ground, Mami embrazed me untill I felt uncomfortable, all the Doñas form the markt told me I definably could not go anymore, they would chain me.

I felt happy.

The first party was not far away. It's the month of 'La fiesta de la cruz' (party of the cross) and almost every weekend there were different crossed dresed up with rosas de pasqua, honored and then the party would start. Lot's of fireworks, wine, chicha, local instruments, dancing and games.

That first weekend we went to Calama where the family of Sergio lives and I learned to quarter a goat. It a game in which you tear a goats skin in half, each holding on to a paw and then yerking in swaying motions. I can tell you that it gives a lot of muscle pain the next days.

Of course 'the gringa' had to do everything as well and i was watched and cheered more then any other. I really was placed on a statue of honor and it was difficult to make them treat me as normal.

Another game is 'get the chicken'. They burry a chicken in the ground so that only the head sticks out. A person is spun around at a 20-steps distance. Blindfolded and given a cane he has to walk to the chicken and hit it with the cane, touch it or walk straight over it. Here you see Sergio giving it a try, he hit next to the head this time, but the next day he hid right on the head.

After him it was my turn and to my delight I walked the 20 steps and did not even bend donw to slap, I just put the point of the cane to the chickens head. So now the the two lover both had a chicken and rooster. Whole Sergios family was in one big laughter.

We put my tent somewhere in the bush and when we were done with all the drunkness of others the three of us squeezed tight and tried to sleep. The party was three days, in different houses, we stayed till the end, sleeping in the tent and making most people laugh with it all.

There are so many stories to tell, so many laughs, but I won't bore you with them, it's more fun when you are here and see how the difference is accepted.

So yeah, Sergio and I came together in a strong band and because Iris workes 6 days a week from morning to night and Sergio has no studies or full-time work at the moment we did lots of excursions together.

Up to another waterfall, a super fun exploration.

Another Fiesta de la Cruz, the cross totally decorated with Rosas de Pasqua. Pretty no?

With Iris, her lover and Lupe we went to the poso where the daughter of Doña Leonor drowned two months ago. I don't get it totally, I could stand almost everywhere. Maybe they should start teaching swimming lessons here.

With Sergio's mother, Sixta, and his youngest sister, Laura, I made bread twice.

In the traditional oven made from earth and heated with wood. Almost everyhouse has one and uses it once a week.

The golden treasures, almost 70 of them.

And I asked Doña Maria if I could have a peek in her bakery. She baked the same breads but then 2000 a day in her huge oven. Not to forget the empenadas, cookies and other bisquits.

I got absolutely stuffed by her and me in my turn folded many empanadas that afternoon. Here the result in the marked.

Every night Sergio and his brothers play basket and soccer in La Cancha beside the marked. I felt energetic and decided to start jogging. Did kept up for a week, every night 5 km, untill my enkles jolted with pain and I couldn't walk anymore. I guess I'm not 19 anymore.

Like most families the Valesquez' have only two rooms whe all six kids and mum and dad sleep in 5 beds. To get a little privacy, and also because I did not want to sleep in the little habitacion of Iris and her two kids anymore, I was staying too long, I put my tent in Sergio's garden and that where we build our nest and retreated every night.

We cooked hearty Dutch pancackes, my mum's huevomimosa and rich salads. Between all the cooking of Sixta and Mami.

Back one afternoon to Grandma (who is so happy her grandson has this funny gringa as a girlfriend, she is hilarious, touching my boobs, looking into my shirt and telling everyone I have very pretty white tits. We laugh our asses of.) to butcher a sheep and cook half the thing in a huge barrel. Sergio and an uncle cutting, hacking and sawing.

This is a normal hairdresser, lots of picture examples and a tv with wrestling. Sergio is the one being cut.

We took off to El Valle, the place for which Tarija is famous. Wineyards and wineries all around. We visited two. For me the wine is way to sweet and the bitter one is to watery. It's Patero wine, which means it's smashed with feet and nothing is added.

Sunday afternoon, the whole family eating pescado parillada (grilled fish). I have not eaten with knife or fork in months.

A Caña, a loooong instrument, pipe, with a cool sound. Played at one of the fiestas de la cruz.

The birthday of a cousin, tradition follows that his face it covered in cake and he gets good drunk. Mission accomplised.

Another hike to another 100m waterfall. We love those outings together, always bring a pack of wine and food.

The whole family.

Power, Patricio, Rudy, dad, mum,

Sergio, Laura, me and Liz.

Because of the pain in my ankle, the swelling, I felt better to take of my collection of anklets ........31 of them!!!!!! Wow, so many friends in those five years.

A daughter of a relative, 19 years, was hid by a car and killed. It had happened one months ago and to rememorade the family made a lunch, more grilled fish. This combination of happiness to make the pain more bearable feels so natural to me. It makes me realize how importand it is to just understand.

I have one more lovely day here in San Lorenzo. Tomorrow is mothers day in Bolivia and Iris is taking a day off work. We will eat and maybe dance together, for the last time. In the morning I will head to the borther and by evening I will be in Argentinia. It's the end of it, I have to start my travel, only two weeks are left.

Salud Bolivia!
No duda, un dia me vuelvo. Sus maneras estan como yo quiero vivir, disfrutar y sunrie.

Searching, Waiting and Finding

I was pretty lost after I left Sucre. For a week or so I wandered around not knowing where to go and what to do. I talked to the truck drivers along the way, tried to take a wild road which did not work, spend two nights in an army base in the middle of nowhere, got my passport stamped for a second time at the Argentinian boarder so I would have another three months in Bolivia and then I got an answer to an email and decided to visit friends in Santa Cruz. It was way off the trail I had to take to get to the South, but I wanted to see those friends again.

They would arrive some days later, so I took off to green hilly lands around Saimapata. I camped one night alone at the pretty waterfalls of Las Cuavas.

And near Bermejo I was suprised by the prettiest vista I've seen so far in Bolivia. Fernando joined me on this walk and together we got soaking wet in a sudden rainfall, when there is nowhere to hide you just wait ...... untill you get too cold and have to get up and get wetter and colder. It was all pretty funny.

Then we got to Santa Cruz where I made some new friends because the other once had not arrived yet. I did not like the atmosphere in Santa Cruz, was it not for Marie I would have skipped even that night on the town. Even though, I did learn some things and was presented with very special gifts from different artesanos.

So I took a ride to the churches of the Jesuit Missions.

First with camiones, but the road was too bad, so I took a train.

This is how you get on the train in the nothing-saying town I got stuck.

The Jesuits arrived in this area around 17oo and build impressive god-houses. Thier way of living, together with the native people that would work for/with them was a great example for the rude and destroying Spanish troops who would invate later. Although they pressed their religion onto others they too improved working and living conditions and lived in peace.

Their churches are definably very pretty. All smelling like wood and painted with pretty flowery and religious depictings.

I crossed paths with those two truckdrivers three times. Their trucks were loaded with wood and so went really slow. Still I took the ride three times with them, it was super cool to see them again and again. Really nice man and their Tinku help.

There were six towns along the road, I did it all by hitching, slept in my tent and swam in lakes with pirahnas (I still have all my toes). There was some rain and one part of the endlesly boring, pretty bad, always dirt, road was too slippery and muddy to pass for heavy truck (one of the times I spotted my truck drivers again), a few had even drifted off the road!

In town the streets turned into rivers after a half hour downpoor and it took me a while to get going because the sight of how every body got through the water was super fun.

Back in Santa Cruz, only for one quick night, my friends had still not arrived and waiting was no longer an option. It was almost easter (Pascua) and in Santa Cruz they make those pretty things from palmas. You take yours to the church where it gets blessed and then you put it in your house. Well, my backpack is my house, so that's where it got stuck. I blessed it myself with a big kiss.

A lot of hitch hiking in those weeks, great, free travel and lots of contact, but I also put on weight.

On to Tarija, the original route. Tarija is the wine capital of Bolivia. I had almost forgotten this when I arrived at the market my first day in town. At the top floor I was offered a wine with Maria and here male companions. It's the only market in Bolivia where alcohol is served. It was only 1pm, but time did not stand still for long. All of a sudden I was taken to another wine-backyard where we kept drinking absolutely delicious white wine mixed with soda untill it was dark. I was truly getting drunk, ole first day in Tarija.

One day more in Tarija and I left to discover the hills around. It was super cool to see such a huge field with flowers, it had been a long time. I picked a pretty bunch on the way back ....

... after I had discovered a heavenly green moss-covered forest with a beautiful river with swimmingholes. I really enjoyed this hike and struggle through the woods.

And then, a new chapter: San Lorenzo

People who follow me in my lifes path, one day you will read more about this town because I truly found the place where I would like to stay for a while. It's a small town, with a small market but still enough activity. It's only half an hour away from the biger city, the people are super friendly, there are no tourists, many mountains to go hiking, a mild climate, warm in the day, fresh in the evenings. I just really really liked my time here and could really feel that I wanted to come back and live with my new family.

I walked into the small market in the evening, looking for a last tea before I would build my tent somewhere. This family was serving their meal, nothing for sale only tojori. Sure why not. So I ate my maisdrink while listening to those members of one family but all very different.

The attention came eventually to me and I was fired with the normal questions, my photo's came out and suddenly I was part of those members.

Being done eating I asked where I could camp and eventually I was invited by Iris to sleep in her quarter.

Ana and Valeria, I, Iris and Lupe

Mami did not like photos.

This family is, like most, not totally normal. It's too much to explain the whole situation but the most interesting thing is that the six sisters and one brother all have different fathers who do not live anywhere near. Iris became my best friend, she's also 29 and has a 15 year old son, Yamil and nine year old daughter, Guadelupe. The dad lives in La Paz and is probably history. Her oldest sister is Valeria, 32. Her daughter Ana, 15 lives with her, her son with his dad and four years ago she has lost a four year old son while he was playing in the park during a visit to dad. Their youth is very sad, their lives very hard, their hands very strong.

I absolutely adored Iris because I fully trusted her, she felt so pure and honest, something you very seldom find in Latin America.

Iris has a little room she rents for her and her kids, Yamil sleeps in the bed, she and Lupe on the floor. That first morning the alarm went off at 5:30am. It's Pascua and so there was a procession up the hill with the 12 stages played by the coleages kids. I got the sleep out of my eyes and went along with Yamil. It's so impressive to see how devoted Latinos are with their love for Christ. More then 200 people walked the 2.5km to the hill, watched the theater played on the truck, sang prayers and bend for avery cross along the way.

The last part up the hill was very intens. They played the crusification of Jesus very realistic, Jesus moaned while carrying his cross, the romans yelled and whipped and the woman cried and tried to help their son.

At the top Jesus was nailed to the cross, said his last words and many (including me) were crying softly, a moment of silence fell down, no baby cried, no child spoke, no adult looked up.

The cross was worshipped and loaden with flowers, I put the flowers I had picked the day before down. Sometimes you don't know why everything fits. I bet the candels burned untill the end.And then I returned back to the market where I was stuffed with Sopapillas and Api and Doña Beatrix told me she was my Mami and Iris and Valeria my sisters. It's always difficult to think back how it all happened, it's so amazing to be named sister with full devotion and to be huged as if you will not leave anymore. I saw all of them cry once, Valeria when she told me about her son, Mami when I told her I had met Doña Leonor who had lost her 22-year old daughter only two months ago, she drowned in a swimminghole. Mami remebered the day well.Iris has a full day working, first helping Mami at the market, then to Tarija to clean hotel rooms, cleaning all the sheets by hand. Back home she has to wash more, maybe cook and pay attention to the kids. I tried to lighten her load by going to the marked for her. Starting the water for tea and coffee and the pan with api. Mami would arrive soon and start the oil to fry sopapillas. About 10$ is earned every morning this way, from 5:45 till 9am. I stayed 12 nights in San Lorenzo and helped Mami 7 times. Really wierd to get with the first woman at the market and open shop, you get to know all and this small town was greeting me by name very soon. I loved it.

Valeria worked the toilets. After selling all the sopapillas I would often sit with her and knit a few hours. I learned the Rice-point and the Pineapple-point, how to make an elastic edge and so finished my two first hats.

Mami and her daugthers making little balls of the daugh at night for the sopapillas in the morning. She really did not like photo's, so I'm lucky with this one. In the bed in our first house, cause while I was here Iris and the kids moved to another room in another house, way nicer, more calm and cheaper.

Iris, Lupe, I and Yamil.

Another good friend became one of Iris' tia (aunt) and her kids. It was a real party house for this week, with many wines and chichas flowing. This is her son Sergio, we did a lot together. Her youngest daughter, 4 years, was my sweetheart, there is a little more hope I would like kids, when they are like Laura.

It was Pascua, so the weekend was full with parties. Saturday the whole street was filled with little fires to heat milk and cinnamonwater which gets served with singani, a grape liquor. The singing, then violin playing and then dancing fills the whole night, untill the sunrise. The streets are decorated with bows with 'rosas de Pascua', all processions pass under and also 'El Disfile' where all the schools, policeman, ladies from the marked, and other towns people march for applaus.

One evening Sergio, his brother Rudy and I went to a concert, the music turned out to be very boring, Cumbia Chicha, but the times were good with all the dancing cholitas.
We went with half of Tia's kids to the river ....
.... and made beautiful mermaids from Yamil.
And then there was a 15th birthday. It's the age when girls reach adulthood. For boys it's 18. The party is huge (when the family has money and padrinos which are friends and family who all pay something). When you arrive you set yourself along the wall on low benches and soon a earthen bowl with chicha is given, the first calabas served. Everybody gets soup and a big plate with lots of grilled meat and potatoes which you eat with your fingers. It was a big party with maybe 70 or more people. Then the ceremony starts.
To represent her 15 years, 15 pairs of youngsters enter and at the end her and her dad. Then she dances the wals with him (very bad, he holds her wrist and she his waist), she gets flowers from all the boys and blows out the candels of the girls. It all takes quit some time and nobody laughs. Then she eats some cake and gets her head pushed in, photo's are made and a line of people will give their presents.

Then the big speakers hold music instead of a talking microphone and the dancing starts. It was a GREAT party, the white wine in jars and chicha in pots flowed, everyone danced in line, many different styles, we laughed, got half drunk and were very merry. Here I'm dancing Tinku-style with Rudy.
It was almost morning when we strugled out, it was a farm far away, no transport no nothing, so we walked for a long time untill I was too tired. We slept along the road untill light woke us up and a minibus was found. Only half a day were we back in San Lorenzo before we took the ride back and followed the rest of the party. The presents were blessed, more chicha served, another meal eaten and the bellies danced away.

Twelve nights, eleven days in San Lorenzo, seven times up at 5:30, seven times a party untill sunrise. A new family found, Iris and I cried big drops when we said goodbyes. 'It hurts here' she said, pointing to her heart.

And while Sergio askes you: 'Te sive' ('may I serve you' a calabas with chicha), you will say 'Gracias. Salud a ti.' ('yes thank you, cheers to you'). He will drink his portion and scoop another one out of the bucket for you. Iris is watching and so we have a new family to which I one day will return. Les extraño mucho amigos!

I was lost, I searched, I waited and I found.

Pleasure in Friends and Pukaras

After those ten days of carnavales we moved on to calmer times ..... for one week, then we dove right back into it.

Tired and almost deaf I arrived in Potosi, a city where I had been before with my dad. So I knew where to find the best salteñas, the friendlies and cheapest alojamiento and the tea with bread.

During my time in Tinguipaya I had met the Talavera family and one member lived in Potosi. So after a tranquile evening on my own and lots of work on the computer to show you guys what I had been up to, I walked right into Jorge in the middle of town and together we went to his brother Javier who is the one who lives here. Jorge left and I stayed to spend some nice, very relaxing days with Javier, wandering Potosi, being cold at night, browsing for new second-hand clothes and watching many music videos out of Javiers collection.

One morning we took a colectivo to Ojo del Inca. A volcanic, perfectly round lake in a red-rock landscape, where the water bubbles up at 30 degrees and the relaxing is garanteed.

On to the next city.

Remember, two weeks ago I was on my way South to Tupiza, making the route bigger by going to Potosi first, now I was on my way to Sucre, just because there would be a huge festival the next weekend. Making the route even bigger.

Also met in Tinguipaya, the friday night I arrived in Sucre I waited one hour for Deimar in the central plaza. He didn't show up (here in Latin America you wait AT LEAST one hour and then you are not to be surprised when they don't show up, especially guys) but in turn I was given Eduardo. A handsome guy from Santa Cruz, Bolivia; traveling with his artesanias for the last 7 years around Bolivia, Peru, Equador, Brazil, Venezuela and Colombia. A huge hole in his ear which served as lighter-holder or bone-collector, his hair long and pitch black and a mind so free that it would never stand still.

He came up and talked to me about flowers and stars (Truus, do you remember this one, hahaha), we kept walking into each other and after the correct waiting time for Deimar I took off with Eduardo to get into other party events.

For the next period we walked in and out of eachothers businesses: him selling his arts in San Francisco Plaza,

me roaming the streets, making my own little bracelets with beads alongside of those incredible imaginable fingers. Finishing a looooooong scarf which became his birthday present for the cold days in La Paz, I met all the other gypsies, French, Brazilien, Chilien and one Dutchy, me, in the pretty streets with white houses and red roofs.

We partied hard, it was intens fun with the different people, beers in the street, running through the rain and playing with the most cute peuter of all: Ñan.

I stayed in the smallest room ever (in the same hotel as with you dad), Eduardo showing here how my bed just left enough space for one chair, you had to get dressed in the little spot infront of the door.

With my birthday, the tenth of March, we hiked up to a hill behind town where an old chapel gave an eery atmosphere, many sacred fires littered the ground, bones and herbs spread by the wind. We chewed given coca, talked soft and drank leche del tigre.

Doña Mercedes was my favorite point of rest. I had drunk tea here with my dad and faithfully I returned this time to discover the same service and politeness. We became best costomer and Doña to each other and I loaded her with Yellow flowers for luck, my bracelets, muña and cedron herbs for shared tea and many visits.

The marked was my favorite place, you would find me here at least three times a day. This is the lady where I would buy my coca.

The first weekend there was a Pukara in Yamparaez, a little pueblo an hour away. I went alone and was flabergasted by the tradition that this party defines.

La Pukara is an offering to Pachamama, Mother Earth. It's a leftover result from Carnaval but not at all religious. Two long poles are placed in the earth and inbetween peole offer the produce that is grown in the region (together with Coca-cola, alcohol and candies). It's a beautiful sight.After that many groups will enter the circle and dance around the Pukara. The dance is called Pandilla, The big flutes that are played are called Pinkillos and the bread that is placed upon the heads of the dancers and musicians is called Pillo.

Most groups are regular cholitas, but there were two groups from the Pujllay tribe. They were dressed in beautiful costumes, bright colors and the amazing culture which is most normal here. Their instruments and dances are different and you can't help but stare intensely.

Of course there was A LOT of chicha pouring as well. This drum will be finished before the party is over. The chicha here is very sweet and more difficult to drink because it made you feel full. Also there were competitions for the best traditional food, what a feast, I wish I could have tried every plate.

Playing the Pinkillos.

Dancing after being blessed.

I was dragged into the movement and had to pose for photo's; really, I NEVER ask for those kind of pictures, it's all them with their mobile phones making snaps.

A whole different trip went to Cordillera de los Frailes, just West of Sucre. Having had enough of the city I left for a few days to go hiking on my own.

It started with a hitch in a camion, then a walk into the fog before the day was spend and I slept somewhere on a ledge along the road.

The next morning the real hike started with fog, but the blue sky appeared soon enough.

First trail was down a beautiful pre-hispanic path, still very well in tact.

Down into a red country with lots of flowers and butterflies. Crossing the big river.

Lunch, looking back at the path just walked.

Into a huge volcano with a fruitfull floor where little towns made a sharp contrast with the dry, colorful earth all around.

The floor was bright red with many didges and chanels, like a maze.

The colors were outher-worldly.

Somewhere along the path I walked into Julia's backyard. She was home alone (her husband being in Sucre) with her three kids and I was offered a sheeps-skin to sit and green beans from the fire. Like many woman here she made bracelets and weavings to sell in the city. I fell in love with a very intricate, colorful weaved bracelet and gave the dobble price for it: $1,30 instead of $0,70 ..... shameful. A beadstring of my own came for free of course.

Those moments make me cry, I can't watch this photo without becoming totally emotional.

Julia is 25, her oldest son 7, her second 4 and her youngest wauwau 5 months. She lives, she cooks almost the same thing every day, she washes clothes by hand, she has a well with the sweetest water, she works with her baby on her back in the chacras, she has a mud house, she was the happiest person today because I wandered past, she lives a four hours walk away from the nearest transport, she lives like everyone else on this planet should live ..... happy.

My transport out of this countryland was incredible, I had never thought that I would fit in, well, I guess I didn't. I hotst and bobst at the far end, on the ledge of this camion while the rest did not have to do anything to stay straight, the body next to him would do the work. At the back hing bundels with groceries and flowers and the kids watched over the edge from a higher shelf.

In a certain corner we stopped and everyone started to make a hurry down the hill to the river. I understood suddenly what was going on. The river was high and there was no passage for trafic, so we had to go down to the river, walk the bridge and get into another bus. There would not be enough space, so it was first come - first seats. There I went, just as foot-loose, running down the hill in this colorful train of jolting bags and feet-in-sandels. I made it and so did most, God, how many people can you get in one bus, it was really uncomfortable for two hours.

And then the feast I had been staying for: another Pukara in Tarabuco. This one being waaaaay bigger.

We went with all the gypsies. Here some of us on top of the hill, overlooking the vibrand green suroundings with sunset.

Another Pukara had been decorated, this one neater and ritcher (the other was prettier).

And again the traditional groups danced in trance, their cheeks filled with coca, their stomachs filled with chicha and their ears focused on the flutes and drum.

Absolutely eye-stealing those feast-costumes.

The band wore ponchos in opposing colors, their headdress resambling cascs from the spanish.

The dancers have very interesting feet-wear. A whole system that bangs and klangs with every step. The dance is simpel, strong and lifted by the scarfs they swing on-and-of.

It was a stark blue sky, the sun burning fierce, the people would bend down, make shadows, get stronger and forget about the moment.

Different groups. The woman wearing what they always wear, but today their finest.

Eyes sheelded from the sun and admireers, a cover for them to sneak glances without being noticed. Those beads are good for someting. It's a very temptationes head-cover.

And who walked into my view? Deimar, the guy I had been wayting for that Friday night in the park. Better! I had been wandering alone for a while and now I could buy some jugs of chicha to share around, super fun. Eventually you come across everything.

Yes, the chicha was flowing, here they served a morada as well, absolutely delicious chicha here, not too sweet or fermented.

And with this last favorite photo of mine I will leave you untill next time.

I love Bolivia, lately I've been telling people that I would not mind living here for a while, a few years. To discover the intens theories, history, culture and traditions. To walk many paths more, endulge in the food and learn the recipies. To have more respect for friends and the Latin pasion. To get real cold in the highland winters and flustered hot in the lowland summers. There is so much to see and discover in this country. Besides Guatamala it's the riches country I've visited. Tell me, how is it that the we call the riches the poorests?

Ten Days of Carnavales

I've got the carnaval blues.

How else could I after ten days party, noise, drink and dans.

It has been the best carnaval I've ever done, it will never be this big again, Bolivia is the number one for making it happen and I hope to maybe do it once again.

Oruro is the city with the biggest and finest carnaval in Bolivia, maybe in the world. For this week the town is dressed up in its most vibrant colors, it drags all Paceña beer out of every corner and draws spectators from all towns, cities and other countries.

Carnaval is a time that many people travel to their town of origin, in this week I've met many people that live in the big city but move to their town of birth to celebrate with family. It really fell to notice that many Bolivianos live in Buenos Aires, Argentinia.

Prices for acomodation are rediculous. Normally being 20 Bolivianos, now 150 to 200. They really take advantage of the need. So I looked around a little and found this room full with Argentinian and Chilien hippies where a spot on the grass-filled matresses was 25 Bolivianos.

Eventually I didn't sleep one night in this room. The first night I dragged my stuff to the roof to sleep three hours under the cold stars and after that I did not return to the place for two days. Partying, sleeping and doing what you have to do in other houses (altogether I did not sleep more then 10 hours in those three days).

Friday night it started with a brass band-blowoff.

I never made it there. I started the walk but in the first store where I informed if she had a pack of wine I met Victor, 50 or so. He was already half drunk (like many) and insisted that I would drink a bottle with better quality. A pack of sigarettes was added and for the next hours we walked the busy street together. Ah well, you just go through the motion sometimes.

A cd of a local band and a warm, VERY popular drink: Sucunbe, made with warm milk, grape liqour and coconut and cococa decorations, were added to the shared hospitality. Untill we reached the main plaza where his son was present with many friends. Being part of the group we host and hupst to the band that started playing. But it was all too busy and crowded for me. A good moment to leave and meet others.

I stayed in the streets untill 3am that night, pfff, if this is the beginning......

Saturday La Entrada starts around 8am ........ and ends around 4am the next morning.

No kidding, it really goes like that. The whole route staged with bleachers filled with people. Most of whom are just enjoying the parade. But in some parts there are more youngsters and so thats where the action was to be found.

In Latin America it's tradition to play with A LOT of water during carnaval and here it's in the form of little balloons: Globos. In those places with cheerfull teenagers there were true fights between one bleacher to the other. It was hilarous and of course I would participate with fever, buying many bags: five globos for 1 peso and being hit more then once. It was super fun.

Another super popular item to tease with was spraycan foam/fake snow. Especially right in your face, this one was less dramatic for the long term, but more fun to my opinion at the moment of action. And lets not forget the confetti.

So lets start the parade:

Morenada man.

Caporal ladies. Some being VERY sexy.

Many bands who really made the whole world stamp and sing to the traditional numbers with their type of group.

I'm not sure what those groups are called.

A Morenada clown.

One of the moments we were just hit by some flying foam.

The big end, el Socavon, where a massive crowd looked on to the best dances the groups could give. It was the place where cameras where installed to show the rest of Bolivia what they were missing. Here it all ends with a blessing in the famous church of El Socavon. But the atmosphere was tranquile and not very exciting, mainly families that were watching.

So I returned to the main plaza where it was much more energetic and that's where I stayed.

Here you see the Tinkus. Absolutely my favorite groups, their clothing, their dance, so much energy, so much force.

And then, when it ends at 4am, the band keeps playing a few hours more untill it's about 7am and the new day starts.

It all ended around 5am for me that session, but soon I was part of the crowds again.

A new day with precisely the same routine. Yes, again the parade starts at 8am and ends at 4am. Again many globos are thrown and many beers are drank. The only difference today being that the crowd AND the dancers and band members are a lot more merry with A LOT more alcohol. It was amazing how some orkest members could still hit the right rithm.

Lady filling globos for the whole day. Oruro is pretty cold at night and it was beautiful to notice that there was enough respect from all kids to not throw after dark.

So this second day we were more bold, we spend most time on the other side of the fence, feeding the parade-members beer, playing their instruments, dancing alongside of them (they all have their significant steps) and wearing their masks or hats.

Being a little different then others and a woman I had the best time ever, many headcovers found my laughing face, many band members dragged me along in the parade, the sexy girld shook their booties, the sexy boys came down and offered kisses and bells, the traditional groups darred me for a dance and the public threw many globos, yelled and gave me as well beers.

I have to be honest, it was FANTASTIC to be different today.

Suri man.

And then came the Tinkus, this time being on the other side of the fence I could dance with them and had the best time. I really jump just like them. Many applauds came from the crowds. The rest of the day I was waiting for the second Tinkus parade. There would be another session with them.

Again I would dance along and felt the need to walk with them, it was already midnight or so. It was a crazy party by then. It had rained, we were dirty and super happy.

At the end, waiting to enter El Socavon, the band played to finish the song, my favorite Tinku group gave it an extra forse and danced the last steps of their four and a half during parade. I danced crazy along (there were few people here) and panted for breath with this 3700m altitude.

There we were, one of the guys came right up and gave me a scarf, others asked me questions. Photo's were made and they waited untill I had recovered my camera as well. Then I was pulled into the group, dressed in cape and hat and photographed as well.

I'm in the left bottom.

It was SO cool. The last two blocks were danced and I was pulled right into the group to dance with them. Also they asked me to dance with them in a parade in La Paz, but I won't be here in June, really a shame. Then they also urged me to go onto El Socavon, but I did not dear to, not knowing all the passes and having the opinion that it needs to stay traditional, without dancing gringos amidst the well dressed groups.

I did get invited to the Tinku party in another palce though. Here I was decorated with more scarfs, a chuspa (cocabag), a Huaraca (stone thrower), plumes and many appreciating nods. They ate some, and danced just more and more and more. Me too, but not for long, my stomach was REALLY upset, it being in cramps and ending in water, so my absolute exhausted body needed to take it easy, 5am.

Sleeping in a house with made-friends I did not find rest after 8am, and so I got up, dressed and made it to the hotel for the first time sins Saturday afternoon. Most hippies had left, it was empty. I took a shower, organized some things, made new bells on my bag, got my photo's on my harddisc and left in the afternoon for Tupiza.

I did not get further then Huari, a little town two hours South. Just getting dark, I found a hostal with a normal price, a tea with a normal price and another carnaval parade but of very small size. I could not be bothered and left for bed.

Tuesday it just happened that I did not move anywhere. I wrote my diary, talked to the locals, watched the four bands playing in the towns square and the clowns dance in train. Huari is also the place for the Huari beer factory, so I did drink one beer to try it.

Wednesday it was time to hitch to Uyuni, but absolutely NOTHING passed on this desolated road and I did not want to wait untill the nightbus at 9pm. So I decided to go another route: first to Potosi, then Tarajia and on to Tupiza.

A ride to where the highway carries more trafic and a camion was spotted:

'On the way to where?' 'To Potosi. And you honey?' 'Potosi as well. Is there space?' 'Sure, but not in the truck, you're going with us in the pickup.'

Along the way I met the bandmember of LASER. Aperently pretty famous in especially Oruro. It was all bold talks, defiant questions and brought laughs. It always amazes me how I fit in what ever position, with whomever and where ever.

Just somewhere we turned off the road and I was told that they would first go to this little town to play a concert. O, Ok. It was another two hours along a rough road down into a lower valley to Tinguipaya:

Being in the town it was made clear that they would be here for five days!!!!! Well, there would be a bus to Potosi tomorrow, so lets enjoy the new way of going.

First a meal, we were with 15 man, seven band members, one tourleader and the rest helps to build the stage and guard at night.

Then we build this huge stage with everyone, I helped more then they would have thought and was questioned how I got so many muscles.

A small town with maybe 200 people is the center of activity for five days. Little streets only for walking are filled with all sorts of people, up to 1500, that have left but still stay true to where they were born (or their parents).

So the case with this party is that the town is split in three groups: the Diamantes (us), the Corazones (right beside us) and the Machay (on the other side of the big rock a five minute walk). Then the music starts. Well, music..... The Diamantes and Corazones both have 26!!!!!!! speakers each and REALLY try to play for the loudest, can you emagine it? It was crazy, RIGHT beside eachother....... and this for FIVE days, from 3pm untill 2am.

It all starts with a dance: The boys and girls make files and danse in train formation their dance-steps, it's this jumping step that leaves your one leg feeling sore.

All pretty fun ..... but for five days! The band had their sessions of music, one typical song was played every hour for maybe 15 minutes and many other songs were repeated over and over again. At least it was all pretty ok to dance to, lots of Chichanga.

One of those moments I met the handsom Talavera Family:

I hang out with them a lot and was invited to eat a fresh goat- grill at grandma's house one afternoon:

We lighted some fireworks, something that happened the whole day thru, everywhere:
The Sunday was probably the best day because everyone dressed up in funny clothes.

O, let's not forget that besides the big bands there are also the little local brass bands to fill in the little holes where the music was just dieing down.

Many man dressed up like woman and the funny thing is that the city girls dress up like the local Cholitas and many Cholitas as the traditional Tinkus. Very typical.

I too, had my Talavera family dress me up as a Cholita. Totally complete with Polera (rok), Mandil (schort), Tulmas (hairtuffs), hat and cape. We have to be honest: I look more like a witch then a Cholita:

The dance starts ....... again:

And the WHOLE day people walk around with buckets of pigfood, o no, it's puke. Wrong again. It's delicious (ehum) chicha, a fermented corn drink. Just close your nose, take a breath and slurp. I must have had a bucket full in those five days.

One of the nights:

The band would eat and take breaks at Lucy's place. This absolutely very nice Cholita cooked the best meals for us, especially het Lawa was delicious. I helped her out when ever I could.

Peeling havas and beans for three hours:

As well on the last day (it was the only reason I stayed untill the end) there is a huge come-together of the Tinkus, the traditional people in this area.

They come down with their charangas:

The woman in their best woven works. It's to show everyone what they can. Absolutely impressive:

The young girls make the best of thier appearance because they are looking for a man. To make this aperent and to get the attencion they wear little mirrors on thier clothes and hats.

Very shy, laughing behind their hands, not dearing to look:

So we partied more and more, this last day untill the early Monday morning.

Many people were decorated and confettied for their precense, their alegria, I was lifted too and had to promise to come back next year.

I was done just before sunrise, slept a few hours, packed my bag and left while the band was still palying at 9am!

It took me an hour to say goodbye to all the people I had met, absolutely everyone knew the only gringa of the party.

We had so many laughs:

Bye bye Tinguepaya.

I was happy to leave, my ears pieped and tuuted, I was really done with the stupid drunk people and I was tired of the rain (we had a lot but kept dancing). But boy am I happy I know this place and it's best party. I would not have wanted to miss it for the world.

Mucho mucho saludes con cariño a todo: Las familias, el grupo 'Laser', Lucy con sus comidas deliciosas y muchos otros. Wow, un otro año, con mas sol, ya me vuelvo.

Hiking High and Happy

Dad back home to Holland, many kg of souveniers less in my backpack, but more kg of tea-chatting-weight on my body. So it was time to get active and explore some hiking territory.

At night in the truck under the tarp, ontop of many bags with rice, sugar and flour.

With several rites I hitched to Charazani in the Cordillera Apolobamba.

That's where I would be for a week, to hike, meet the people in far away towns, their mines, climb many passes, eat what I could carry and poop in the grass.

First night out, in the town of Curva.

The kids are always so interested about my stuff, they watch closely when I put up the tent, explore the inside and later watch how I cook with my little gas stove.
The few farms you pass along the way have little woman running out of them to try and sell you some of their woven goods. Some made with fineness, other rough and dirty. It's just a little extra, like my family had a little sign with: 'eggs for sale' many years ago.

A 4700m pass with views to Mt Akamani.

Cascada Incacancha. A very nice spot to put the tent, no people, in a warmer valley, no wind, a river to wash and drink and threatning clouds that would not rain.

Walked the wrong path and passed through a very far away town, talking to the old people who only spoke Aymara or Quechua so the kids have to translate. Warmth kept close to the body by many blankets, feet in sandels made from tires (they last years!), hail falling down. Plastic threw everywhere, cooking with cowshit, dogs thinner then possible.

Passing through some mining towns, the guys being from all over Bolivia. Chewing their coca, laughing about my situation. We talked almost an hour, they had a lot of appreciation for my hike alone in a country far away with little things. It's amazing how we look different at life: they having fear for walking alone, me bending deep for their work in dirty, dangerous, unhealthy mines.

The 5100m pass with lots of snow, cold, a very old man who was on his way to ???? being very sick and having lots of pain in his joints, I wished I would have taken my asprins, he was asking for then.

A few cars passed, loaded with people, matresses, blankets, pots, coca, beanies, laughs and tough looking campesinos.

Night in the town of Piedra Grande. The Alpacas and Llamas also went home.

After I had set up my tent along the river, out of the wind in a corral, more then 500 passed by with their owners, looking down with cold in their bones but having the prospect of a warm sopa after cooking it in their mud houses.

The next morning I was watching how this same town got all their herds together, to walk the one or two hours once again to let them graze. The young ones have a little 'skirt' around their waist for the fresh bellycord.

Lucy walked up while I made a photo of her llama ¨They die when you take their photo.¨ she said laughing. We walked together untill Hilo Hilo.

A little break for her to stuff more coca in her cheeks and to nit a little. Her little feet in very feminen, delicate, dirty shoes. It's their tradition.

The hike went on and finished in Pelechuco, a little peublo with lots of fog, flowers, super cute little paths, green vegetable gardens, lots of quenoa trees and a very angelic cementary filled with foxglove flowers.

The bus would leave at two in the morning, so I aksed if I could sleep at the last row of chairs, no problem.

At 2am I did wake up half with all the people entering, but stayed in my sleeping bag. Then the bus made some action, we rolled into movement and all of a sudden there was a super loud crash and things fell on top of me. It turned out that the boys had taken the stones from behind the wheels without the driver being behind the wheel. So we had rolled backwards right into a roof, crashing a pole and the backwindow. I was covered in glass.

Well, we cleaned up the mess, covered the hole with plastic and drove away 40min late.

It's hard to discribe how a bus full of wet wool, chewing coca and little babies in blankets smell. But I may tell you that it's those moments that I fell better then ever, more one with the world, being somewhere with no-one in a place with many. All the same, all tired, squashed, all cold, all wishing for an Api with Buñuelos.

It was a morning that I hope to never forget, Cordillera Apolobamba in the distance, now knowing how you walk her. The sun rising, shadows long, the warmth instand, frost on the ground.

It took me another day to hike back to Charazani via another route, asking all the little woman, kids and their donkeys along the way where to go. They were collecting llama poop to fertilize farmland or cook with. They were collecting it with their hands, into their skirts and into bags. Carried down by donkeys.

The day ended with another two hour hike to some thermal springs. Here, in this lower, warmer canyon are some places where hot water spills out of the side. It caused a massive waterfall and a little pool suitable for soaking down by the river.

No one there, no houses just passerby's. The whole evening I enjoyed my little heaven, soaked, watched the moon and stars, washed my clothes with warm water, made a meal and slept deep.

You can see the tent left below, besides the big rock where my clothes are laying to dry.

Hitching a ride to Apolo. The camion took five hours to cross little towns, sizzling hot and humid the lower we went. Passing many marvelous waterfalls.

In the truck to Charazani I had met the family who lived here, it's very far away, pretty hot and not very interesting in Apolo, but the people are very nice, there is famous Nat. Park Madidi and the drive there is very spectaculair.

All of them where very surprised when I found their store and walked in, never expected me to arrive. I stayed two days to feel the beat, eat, sleep and play sports with them and knit away in the store.

Because of the heat we would get up at 4:30am to play basket, the line for new gas had already started. By the time the truck arrived it was super long and took two hours to dissolve.

On to Sorata, a town pretty famous for hiking. Many hippies from Chili and Argentinia are here too. So far I'm not too fond of them. They are very modern, concearned with appearance (although hippy), groupy and without lots of concearn for the culture of their neighbor-country.

The rain started here and for one month now I have seen wetness almost every day. Sometimes very intense and never ending, sometimes short but present.

I had planned to hike around Nevado Illumani but did not get further then Cocoyo.

Hiking up to some 4800m passes, seeing nothing because of the clouds, getting humid and wet because of the fog and drizzle, starting late, making little progress it did not seem worth it.

So I called it quits, the first time I turned around and didn't finish a hike, ever.

In Cocoyo I sheltered in one of the two stores, was eventually welcomed warm and Ofelia ordered her childeren to fetch a kettle with hot water so I could make tea. I arrived around 10am and would not leave untill noon the next day, lots of playing, watching the rain and knitting. At night there had been a landslide down the road. A few man from town would just walk up and start shoveling, a few more arrived, others left, in one morning it was passable again. Community work.

Cocoyo.

Sonia 12, Guan 9, Valecio 6.

It's proven that the skirts of those woman really hide how thin of fat they are. Ofelia turned out to be 8 months pregnant, you could not see it. She would drive to La Paz this Saturday for the last two weeks of her pregnancy because there were complications. It's a 6 hour journey, dad would come too. Sonia takes care of her two brothers and sister those 15 days, cooking, washing, selling some things in the store and washing thier faces. What did I do when I was 12?

A rest in Sorata and on to the next meeting. I wanted to take a road to Mapiri, down to Guanay, on to Caranavi and back up through the Yungas to La Paz.

In the first part, hitching a ride in a full, cold camioneta, I had Clemens and Laurin, 19 from Germany, hopping in. They were on their way to some ruins I had read about too but dismissed. Only the fact that tomorrow would be market day in another town so there would be transport in the morning up and in the afternoon down (otherwise five hours hiking), made me hop off too.

Life gives you plenty of offers and so it came to be that I spend three days with those smart guys. We spoke most spanish and some english. Played mancala and cards, looked for food in the homes of those friendly people, found the ruins of Iskanwaya (not that impressive) and waited untill we could eat again. Next time it will work guys, it was super tranquile to hang out.

Laurin and Clemens eating some of my brew with anything I could find, including the tube off toothpaste to scoop it out.

We slept in the middle of the ruins.

The next morning I took off on my own, the boys would take a bus to Charazani while I hiked a few hours back to catch transportation on my initial route.

It was a super nice hike and I came across a super mega cool bridge, probably pre-Inca. You can see the Machu Picchu-like mountain with the bridge on the far left.

Many rides in camiones, camionetas, flotas and private cars followed. Some rain along the way, very bad roads for the first part. We had to stop and dig-out the car a few times.

Here my ride is unloading groceries in one of the small pueblos. The transition zone between the alti-plano and the jungle is absolutely spectacular, lots of green hills, one after the other. Many waterfalls, little towns and enough action to keep it interesting.

Digging out the jeep at one of the river crossings that spill over the road.

The town of Santa Rosa with many greens hill following.

Between Mapiri and Guanay you take a boat, that's just easier with all those river crossings in the rainy season. Zipping by green jungle, through pretty wild waves and past many mining operations. One night I slept in a house-in-construction with lots of rain in a forgotten town to finally end up in La Paz, catching a bus straight to Oruro.

Lets go to Carnaval!!!!!!

Bolivia with my Dad

There he was, my dad, in Bolivia.

It was the first time he was in Latin America, the first time in a country like this, the first time traveling with me alone and the first time backpacking sins his youth.

My dad being 62 and arriving with an extreme cold (his synusses were totally blocked) we had to take it easy the first days in La Paz, the capital of Bolivia, because it's definably a blow to the system to go from below sealevel to 3660m above.

So the first few days we did a lot of market-strolling, tea-drinking and getting-everything-organized business.

Here you see one of the witch-stands.

Those cholitas (indigenous lady who lives in the city but still wears her traditional dress) sell all kinds of herbal and folk remedies plus a few more unorthodox ingredients intended to manipulate and supplicate the various malevolent and benevolent spirits of the Aymara world. So you may buy a llama fetus to burry under your doorstep as offering to PachaMama for her well blessing. We as well bought a plate with colorful herbs, seeds and an assortment of critter parts to burn on top of a mountain one day.

The lively tourist artesanias.
Many seeds, nuts, sweets and dried fruits to eat.

Up to El Alto where dads nails turned blue with the 4050m altitude, but the view of La Paz starting up all it's lights was impressive.

Our first travel started with a bus to Tiahuanaco. We arrived in the afternoon and a super friendly guy took us into town and made us sleep in his garden. He also was guide to the ruins and so we asked him to guide us around the next morning.

Many of the tomato-mayonais-cheese-capsicum sandwiches we would eat.

Little is know about the Tiahuanaco people that lived from 600BC untill AD1200. The massive ceremonial tempel that you can visit today was constructed between AD300 and 700.

The most impressive part is the sungate, the stone faces in one of the temples and the massive monoliths with carvings. The museums hold well preseved pottery, gold, silver and bronze objects and other utensils.

Next a little detour through Peru, just because it was the shortest way to the next place. But it became a sad crossing.

I'm so extremely ashamed that this happened to me, being a hardened traveler. It must be the learned mentality that the police and other man in uniform are to be respected and treated with courtesy. Well, in those countries you should drop this politenes because coruption makes them less then worthy.

A group of policeman asked us to show our bags: 'For fake money and drugs.' They kept asking how much money we exactly had, my dad at one table, me at another. My dad not knowing what was asked so I turned my attention to his table and most likely that's when they stole probalby 300 Bolivianos ($43 or 35euro). Jeez, how much of an ass do you feel then when you recount your money in the bus and are trying to figure it out.

Copacabana.

A town I had been to before, little, very atmospheric, quite some tourist, a huge Moorish Cathedral where.........

every morning a whole line of cars is getting blessed by a priest. You may buy everything you desire in miniature (houses, shops, cars, money, luggage to go travel, love or health) which will be watered and blessed so you might recieve it in the upcoming year.
Once a year there is a huge pilgramage as well, to the top of Cerro Calvario. Here many people will stall their miniature desire with candels and lots of prayers.

Dad puffing up the hill.

We came more for the stunning views and every shape of blue that Lago Titicaca stands for.

Next a boat trip to one of the small islands in the southern Lago Huyñaymarka.

We found the two-times-a-week cargo lancha just in time and had a traquilo cruise of a few hours with a boat full with bread (a dream for me) to Isla Suriqui.

The colorful fishing boats in the totora reeds.

We just stayed untill 1am which is when another once-a-day local boat would return to shore. There was an extreme storm that night, with huge rains, massive thunder and so we did not leave untill 4am. But a candle lit the boat very admirely and the locals were very friendly.

Straight into a colectivo to La Paz and on in a big bus to Oruro where we kept going by thum to a little town towards the Chilean boarder. A dusty cowboy town where we shopt in every little store for one of the products to make our famous sandwiches with beer.

Aymara lady selling Salteñas in the bus.

Stuck in an area without public transport. So hitch hiking it was. Well, we sat here in the middle of the altiplano from 9:30am untill 4pm before we decided to hitch back to town. Don't think this was a bad day, o no, we made a nice place to sit with some cover for the sun and chatted the day away.

So one full salt truck took us back to town where another empty one passed, the drivers talked, I asked if he went to the salar and we hopped from one to the other and still came to where we were hoping.

The last stretch, to the little salt mining town of Coipasa, we drove with a family who just came back from working at the salar. Upon arrivel they told us we could sleep at their place cause the towns only 'hotel' was closed. Very nice! We were given a thermos with hot water and Buñuelos (fried, dough pancackes).

Drying salted meat.

The room we slept in.

So there we were: Salar the Coipasa.

In this part of Boliva you find a most eerie landscape made of salt, the blue sky and you.

Together with Salar de Uyuni this is the largest salt flat in the world (12,106 sq km) and sits at an hight of 3653m. 40.000 years ago a massive lake covered most of southwest Boliva. It dried up, the area lay dry for 14,000 years, was covered again and finnaly dried up 10,000 years ago to leave behind two large puddles and the salars. So it's drained internally; the salt deposits are the result of the minerals leached from the mountains and deposited at the lowest available point.

Nowadays it's a center of salt extraction and processing (nearly 20,000 tons, 18,000 tons of wich is for human consumption while the rest is for livestock) and tourism.

Because the whiteness is extremely blinding and we both did not have sunglasses, we made some with dads reading glasses and tuct tape. Like the eskimos did with bone.

So every day those people go here, hack out chuncks of salt, let them dry, wheck them in smaller parts and then shuffle them one shovel at a time into trucks until they are full. It's always amazing to see what man still does by hand.

The next day we hitched to a little town on the side of salar de Uyuni, dad sitting ontop of the cabin for several hours. And the day after we crossed 150km salt flat. Some parts had a layer of water which would reflect the clouds perfectly, like you were flying through the North Pole with 25 degrees.
The town of Uyuni was full with backpackers, so we took a nightbus straight to Potosi. Arriving at 3am we did not feel like paying for a hotel for only a few hours. So we looked around and found a good hallway in front of the police. We did wake them up with our noises, but it was ok to spread our matress for a few hours.

Potosi

A town famous for it's 'Cerro Rico' (Rich Hill).

For four centuries the mines of Cerro Rico have been productive and none is certain how much silver has been extracted, but it is know that the Spanish monarchy came to rely completely on the yearly treasure fleets which brought the potosi silver. Soon after discovery of its riches the Spanish took control of the area in 1545 and started to mine the hill with indigenous and later African slaves under exteme conditions. Man worked in 12 hour shifts and stayed underground for four months at a time. The work was dangerous and many died of accidents and silicosis pneumonia. It is estimated that eight million slaves died between 1545 and 1825.

Now it's a huge tourist attraction to visit the mines to get an idea how the conditions were and still are. With way too many people you drive to the tunnel you will enter, clothes, boots, a helm and lamp are given and the (way too big of a) group enters. Before you will visit a store where also the miners buy there alcohol, cigarettes, candy, sodas, dinamite and coca for the days work. You are advised (pushed) to buy some 'presents' for the miners you will come across and to offer to the 'Tio' (uncle) who needs to be given offerings for a good journey in his world (the devil).

Making offerings to 'El Tio'

Dad and I really did not like this tour, it was too big, it went too slow, we hardly saw anything and we really felt like tourists. I really don't recommend to do this tour with an operator but to find other ways to go inside.

Potosi the city was very nice, I liked the atmosphere and we enjoyed wandering the streets.

I had bought my dad a little book to draw his new adventures, both because he and many others like his drawings and also so I could write in my diary sometimes.

Tea and coffee break.

Next up to Baños de Chaqui.

It was pretty dirty, the water full with others, very hot and primitive, but one of the coolest things we did. We were a huge attraction as the only foreigners: 'So why do you foreigners have such a white skin, is that because of the weather there?'

To make the best of the nice hot water, people from far away would come here to wash their blankets and other big things. So many washtubs are made and fed by the thermal waters. We followed suit and washed some too.

Sucre, Bolivias judicial capital, is said to be the most beautiful city in the country.

We walked around, enjoyed the green plaza for many hours and found a personal museum in this little store. The guy has so many antique coca, herb, medicine or dried-fruit-for-the-journey bags that he could definably make a tour with them. Dad bought some really nice things here and promised the guy he would contact some museums in Holland.

After arriving with a heavy cold, blue nails and short breath at the alti plano, burned hands and his bald head from hitching in open trucks his tooth ache (caused by breaking off a piece on the second day) became too bad and he decided to pull his third molar. She did not get the whole thing, turned out later, and a rotten taste stayed the whole time he was here. I'm happy he did not get any diaria because we ate all food and drank all water we came across.

Hitch hiking in open trucks for the best view, two days long.

Again we arrived a bit late at night, knowing we would leave early in the morning. So we found the gardens of the church and decided they were perfect to sleep. Nice flowers.

Other ruins: 'El Fuerte'

Build 1500BC with many niches and strange grooves. People still have no idea what everything means.

And so we arrived to the lowlands. Where a sticky heat took over, the jungle turned the world green instead of blue and misquitos became part of the day.

A walk to a wide river where we had a nice afternoon. Luckily no crocodiles.

In a next town we found a local guide who offered tours into the jungle for a good price and so we headed off to see the marvels of bug life, plant growth and waterways.

PachaMamas color palet.

Dad had made Tevas from his flipflops by drilling a hole through the sole and stringing, elegantly, a band around his ankles, like a balerina. All stripped tight with Duct tape. It wasn't perfect for the slippery rocks, but it served for the two days.

Acompanied by many butterflies, orchids, ants and huge spiders, Paraiso trees, monkeys, tiger footprints, many parrot birds, sandflies, little waterfals, nibling fish and dense jungle we walked and waded through this paradise for two days.

Most of the route we followed this little river, some parts a little deep, other parts with nice beaches to take a break. We swam a lot, really thought it very pretty (to my opinion prettier then Costa Rica which has some very pretty jungle too) and listened to the hum of insects in the night. Many fireflies too.

The big waterfall we hiked too the second day.

And so you really know you are in forgotten land: many times we crossed coca property, legal and illegal. Little pieces of land with some production, a little house and the cloudforests in the distance. Rice as well was grown here and there.

Cochabamba

Trough greens valleys we returned higher.

It was Sunday and no busses, colectivos, taxis, trucks or other transport was in action. All stores were closed besides some market stands. All this for the re-elections of Evo Morales. This first indeginous president is trying to empower the nation's poor (mainly indigenous) majority, to destribute equal land properties and to make sure that money from economical produce stays in the country. The rich easern departments want him out, they don't like to take care of the poorer western departments of the alti plano.
With a 58% he won: 'SI'

So after this day wait for transport we arrived back in La Paz for a last day shopping and yesterday I put my dad on the plane with a huge box with collected souveniers and memories.

We definably saw everything Bolivia has to offer and I'm super proud that it all went so smooth. We did not have any arguments, he never complained about the situation we were in he just experienced it like I knew he would: like a relaxed bypasser in time and space.

Pap, hardstikke tof dat je hier bent geweest, ook al had je nooit gedacht dat je ooit in een jungle zou komen, al helemaal niet in Boliva, ik denk dat je er trots op mag zijn dat ook dat nu een van je ervaringen is en opgeslagen mag worden in dat toch al rijke dagboek met herinneringen.

Super bedankt voor alle geschiedenis lessen, het vertellen hoe nederland tegenwoordig draaid met al onze familie en vrienden en dat je me zo makkelijk de weg hebt laten wijzen.

Zoals velen zeggen: 'Ja, maar met Henny is het ook makkelijk reizen!'

Ik ben weer slimmer, heb een beter idee over mij en ben blij dat je mij in mijn wereld nu ook kent.

Vertel of ik schiet!

Last Adventures for Peru and 2008

Another episode with stories about what's happening in Merry Land:

So I drove down to the coast after this great party in de mountains.

At this party I had met many people. Two couples lived in Chimbote and of course I found the restaurant one couple owned, El Chauchy, where I ate the best ceviche ever, with fresh fish, camote and cancha. The first night I slept in an office there, the second night (cause I had to stay one more day) I had to sleep with the other couple: Henry and Kelly. Henry drove us up the mountain beside the town to have a far overview of the city and Islas Blanca and Negro. The church up here was very interesting too.

On to Trujillo.
The Moche culture has build their structures here many years before the Inca and Huacas del Sol y de la Luna are huge structures made of sand bricks. Each dinasty would build a new tempel over the old one, filling the old structure entirely with those sand bricks against collaps. The walls are very decorative with carved faces and figures, many still with original color. As wel in Trujillo I met Miguel (who spoke Dutch!) and Ernesto in the street. They had created a 'living room' for friends in the form of a very nice bar called 'Bohemios'. Here I stayed a few nights, sleeping in a room upstairs, enjoying my new friends, spinning some poi for entertainment and one afternoon we went to the beach to drink bears, play a lot of music with the guitars and I managed to take a fresh dive in the cold sea.
Super small salamander. Cute no?
Also near Trujillo are the ruins of Chan Chan. The structures here of the coastal cultures are very different then in the mountains. Of course it's in a desert environment and other aspects play a role.
Interesting wall formations, new to me, typical for this civilazation.
In the beachtown of Huanchaco you can see 'Caballitos del Totora'. Those long small boats are made of totora reed and ridden with both legs on the sides (hence the name: little horses). This is how the man still fish, often in the dark night, big balls of coca in their cheecks to 'forget' about the cold.
In the town of Celendin I met a super friendly family. I really liked Tania and Carlos. Carlos told me with so much passion about how his life came to this point. Being an artist, really believing he would make it one day, the begining was really tough for his family. With emotion in his eyes he told me that enough love and willpower have made things like a dream come tru.

Their cousin drove me around town on the back of his motor and I ate and slept in their family house that night, with grandma.

A good example how elaborate some houses make their Christmas stands. Fresh mountains and hot valleys during the hitch hiking.
The valley of Chachapoyas. With his green, suddle hills/mountains, super friendly people, humid climate, many walking paths, many ruins, small towns and no tourists, it became my favorite place in Peru (together with Cañon Cotahuasi).
In the town of Leymebamba you find a very good museum. The Chachapoyas reigned many years before the Incas, AD 1000 until 1400, and build typical round houses with high pointy roofs. Many sites have been found and they contained well preserved artifacts and mummies, an importand tradition. The museum contains many of those found objects and many mummies in their original casc. This one was already open and covered in fishing nets.
At a local market I ate the most delicious fruit ever: Pitajaya. It comes from a cactus.
I did many hikes in this valley, some in the drizzle rain, crossing many rivers which would flud my shoes and make me sog through untill the sun came through and made it a little less dramatic.

So as well I hiked up to Kuelap, the biggest structure of the Chachapoyas. A huge fort build ontop a ridge with incredible views to all valleys around. I had a whole misty morning to myself on top of this fort where many foundaitions of houses and ceremonial structures are still found. To me the site was just as impressive as Machu Picchu (without the crowds).

The entrance, there are three narrow passageways like these, to force attacers in single file.
They say more stones have been used in this fort then in the pyramids of Egypt!

Ever seen a weaving of ten meters?
Next hike to some Sarcofagos (stone cribs made for their mummies). They are always build high into a cliff face, impossible to reach. This place you could not find if you would not speak Spanish and have a good sence of direction.
On to Valle de Belen. Through the drizzle it was a super pleasant sight to see this fluorescent green grass in the sun with a sneaking river. I could wash away the sweat and laze in the grass.
A lonely car passed and took me in. The super muddy road made us slip up the mountain, with nine people in this station, two big bags of cowshit on the roof (for fertilization), some other big luggage and very sweet wine we did make it to Cohechan. I slept at their place.

I had not planned to stay here much longer then one night, visiting other sarcofagos (how the heck do they get up there). But I met Exsilda who ordered me to her house where I could taste some traditional towns food (beefjerky, hit soft with a stone after you heat it by the fire, with mote).
It was the 24th of December, so Christmas eve. And many told me I should stay to be warm with their family and the town, it would be a great feast.

Well, it was. Just like with the big patrons party a week ago, it was a real towns party where several people were assigned to take care of the food for this year. In five houses (two were prived baptisms) everybody could take a seat and watch the patrons dance and eat the food that was served.

First a miss in the church after which 12 little girls in traditional dress and three boys dressed like figures from the bible would dance and sing ........... about 100 couplets! Starting in the church, making a round through town and ending at one of those houses. This 'song', accompanied by a band with drums, trumpets, flutes and bells, would take untill after midnight.

There would be a break and tables would be carried into the room. Tablecloths would be spread and mote (a sort corn) would be dropped on the table to be eaten with your hands. The first course would arrive: a soup. Then a plate would be offered to be shoveled into your empty soupbowl, yucca and meat. Then a third plate with rice and trigo and finally a plate with potatoes, cole and pork. Some people would end with a huge mix in their bowl which would go into plastic bags for home. All would be washed away with chicha (fermented corn beer) and normal beer. Of course I visited all parties (normally you stay with one), so I could have eaten a lot ..... impossible. The poncho all man wear here.
More breaks with snacks, chicha, homemade sweet liqour and cocktails of eggs and milk (eggnog/advokaat). And then, when the kids are done with their play, the band charges again and plays untill the morning. I kept strong untill 4am.

It was the most tradicional and family-like Christmas I could have wished for, absolutely awesome that I ended up here and was so welcome by everybody. The whole town knew me after those days and it was hard to leave.

Paneton is the product I'm gonna import next year to Europe. Those delicious Christmas cakes are eaten by everyone with hot chocolate, I think I ate three entirely in those weeks. A perfect gift as well. After visiting the city of Chachapoyas I started the long long hitch hike down to Bolivia. Being in the north of Peru, I had to go a long way to get to the South and into Bolivia.

Underway I crossed a few towns I had been to before, Chimbote being one of them. Again I was super welcome and Henry and Kelly dragged me to a baptism party one night and Chauchy and Shabela to mums birthday party the next afternoon.

Amigos, muchas besos a ustedes, que energia en sus presencias, que sonrisas, gracias por su hospitalidad y alegria. Long rides with trucks through desert landscapes. Passing the Nazca lines once again.
And then suddenly a sea of green rice.
One of my rides was with Wanter who drove a big, beautiful, yellow Gloria truck (condenced milk). I drove 24 hours with him and he showed me lots of things along the way. I knotted a scarf for his bulldog.
Just in time in Arequipa, my favorite city in Peru. I had hoped to be here for the new years celebration and had written Juana (a teacher I had met during a hike in Cañon Cotahuasi) that I would pass through. I was super welcome to stay with her and her family.

There are many traditions with the bang of twelve. First of all you wear yellow underwear for good luck, yes everyone does so. Then you make a man of your old clothes which get drenched with gas and lit on fire at twelve, old trousers, shoes, my old underwear and whatever else you don't want anymore gets burned. Just throw in a few firecrackers as well and it's a real party. Of course you toast and kiss and shoot off more fireworks. Then you grab your travel bag and make a round around the block to inspire a year with good travels. Of course Juana and I did this. Upon return we ate our twelve grapes, and with every grape you can do a wish. Boy, so many wishes, I had to think hard. And don't forget the paneton and hot chocolet. And then? Then you go dance. Young and old will look for a salsateca, a private party, a disco or a concert and dance untill 2009 has long started.

We as well dove into a nice disco where I luckily got asked to dance by Jimmy who knew how to dance and made me swing in many different dance-styles. He turned out to be super good conversation as well and relaxed company untill I would leave Arequipa. Having danced untill 7am, wandering the streets after for a fruitshake and a hamburger with Jimmy untill 9am, it was time to think about my newyears-dive. With luck a long-lost cousin came to Juanas house and with him and some others we went to an open-air swimmingpool. Arequipa lacks a river, lake or the sea, so this was the only fresh, not so exciting option. But all with good intention.
And we just kept going. After a nice lunch at Juanas house I got everyone together to go to a Cumbia concert with a band who played lots of Grupo 5, then came Los Hermanos Yaimen and as final Papillon. It's my favorite latin music and so I danced a lot.

Juana, her husband, daughter and the cousin.Jimmy and I
It drizzled the whole night and we were soaking wet at the shoulders, but it did not dare anything. It was ABSOLUTELY GREAT!
Finally at 2am I could hit the pillow for the first time in 2009, what a start, it can only get better no?

It was a short sleep before I had to start hitch hiking to Bolivia the next day. And who comes driving around the corner at my first place of hitching? Wanter in his big yellow truck. The first ride was arranged.

I arrived late that night in La Paz, crossing the boarder in the night and having to pay a $50 fine because I overstayed 40 days. Ah well, an extention would have been the same price. Another short sleep before I hopped into an early colectivo to get my dad at the airport........

Cordillera Hiking

Hello! With a big bunch of flowers for just 60 cents!

Time to update the stories here on Mathu's blogger. Sorry if all photo's get a little boring with white peaks, lakes and the same girl in that striped sweater, green hat and grey pants. I did a lot of hiking in the Cordilleras, met more ever-friendly people and washed very little.

We talked some hours away with tea, knitting and talking about man. What you see is my work at the moment, I had droped a stich and she knew how to pick it up.

What else do you need?

Marian, the sweetest mother you may wish for. I drank my tea in her fresh, clean place and asked if I could park some stuff here while going on a eight day hike. Before I left I was given the best creme brule pudding, big hugs, warm safekeepings and a place to sleep when I would come back. Absolutely amazing. She was so taken with my visit, I was not even allowed to bring my cup to the sink, but of course I ignored that and helped her as much as I could when I arrived back and enjoyed her flower-filled courtyard.

But first the hike:

Cordillera Hauyhuash
A marvelous mountain range that gives immense pleasure to those who like hiking....MEEEE.

Tons of mountains with glaciers that drip into lakes huddeled in green valleys, filled with sheep, their pastores, stone houses and just one path that walkes over the pass into the next wonder.

Mama Quilla (Mother Moon) shining on Mt Trapecio (5644m) in the morning when I woke up.

Valley Pumarinri.

A rest overlooking Nevados (glaciated or snow-covered mountain peaks).

The highest point during the track: 5000m, just under Nevado Cuyoc (5550m).

It truly truly remembered me about New Zealand now and again. So many sheep in green valleys.

Knocking on stone-heavens door. The typical houses.

How many waterfalls do you count? I came to twenty.

The fourth night I slept at the Tapuish pass (4800m). I woke up with frost on the tent and a most gorgeous view over Laguna Sasucocha.

Lunch above Laguna Yahuacocha, one of the most pretty valleys with perfect Nevados crowning above.

The hike takes ten days Mr. Lonely Planet says, but I walked long days and did it in five, something I had not expected, so eventually I had to eat eight days food in just five.... jummie!

The ruins of Chavin are truly interesting. Especially when you are the first with a group of students so the place is quiet and you can enjoy the guide with those teenagers.

A group schoolkids with their mums from a town high in the valley visited as well. This is their bunch of 'backpacks'.

A Chocho seller who kept me company for a while ..... or I her?

Hitching to the next place I got picked up by an ambulance who took me on a two hour ride to a town far away where their post was situated. We arrived around six in the evening and I stayed two nights to leave again with the five am bus.

Eventually I had them all knotting bracelets.

Absolute GREAT food made by the Midman/birth expert.

A break above Huari where they eat cat with their big party for the birth of the town. I looked but there was no grilled cat to be found this moment.

Julia, spinning the wool of her daughters sheep on her Puska; while watching her group of sheep, goats, pigs, donkeys and dogs.

Elisa and three of her girl friends where my companions for one night. They would go to the next little town to sleep and play with the poorer kids the first Sunday of the rosary before Christmas. We arrived wet from rain and cooked rice with chicken and filled potatoes in the most devastated house where rain poored through the roof but the laughs were loud and the food was delicious. They giggled, I smiled.

Every pan has a different meal. Here I ate a three-course meal for just $1,60: a great tamale, rice with rabbit and massa mora calabas.

Traditional people of the Huaraz area.

On to the next hike in the Cordillera Blanca. It should take four days, I stretched it to two and a half. Started in the late afternoon and ended in the little town of Huashua where Obdulia and her two daughters Maribel and Janet opened their doors for me to walk in. We're making shullpas (ranja icepops) here, 3 cents for one.

This hike walkes up one valley......

The cows kept me company during the night.

...... reaches the Onion pass (4760m).......

Santa Cruz valley with Mt. Alpamayo, once named the most beautiful mountain in the world.

....... and walkes out in the other valley where Quenua trees peel their soft, bright-red basks.

My view by night the second night.

Same mountain with the morningsun the next morning from my bed.

The swivering, snaking bumpy road back to bigger towns.

Again I passed through Huashua and enjoyed my friends floor and a party in the big shed with the 60 or so towns people; more drunk then you could imagine.

After all this hiking my shoes were really done. But there are wonders in this world, and for $1,60 one of them was shown. I have no idea how they can fix shoes so rotten.

Next ride went through Cañon del Pato, really awesome, to the little town of Yuracmarca where the maybe 50 inhabitans ten-doubled to maybe 500. Holy shit what a party for their virgen.

Eight cows were cut into pieces, six sheep, bags with rice, potatoes, sugar, corn and beans. The towns people cooked, one person gave their house to cook and eat. Many families donated massive castillos (castles) of fireworks, the band that would play absolutely the whole day, the donkeys for the donkey-race, and the roosters for the cock-fights. And everything was donated, so three meals a day and many many beers were all for free for anyone that would walk in.

I made many many friends, everybody knew the gringa in town, I was treated like the guest of honor and just about everybody wanted to hear how I ended up here. I stayed an extra day.

The patio where everybody was fed.

The great great band to wich we danced into the wee hours of the morning, hand in hand in big circles around a crate of beer that got replaced every half hour.

And with this 15m high, sparkling, glittering, banging Castillo I'm gonna leave you untill next episode where you probably read about some dipping in the sea and many more ruins.

Life in the Central Andean Highlands

Hello people!

This chapter does not have a real subject besides that its all about life in the Central Andean Highlands. All the snapshots are in peublos where I stayed a night or one-two. This whole country is scattered with ruins from many different cultures and so you start to loose the wowieness from seeing yet another site. Still, most of them are at beautiful miradores. The same counts for markets, still my favorite past time. They all are a little different, but feel like home. It's the place where I eat, where I talk for hours and where I learn the most.

Lets see what and who came across my path in the last three weeks:

Weaving and chewing Señora in Arequipa.

Ruins Saqsaywaman with Arequipa in the background.

I met Rey in Arequipa and together we visited ruins in Pisac. Here you see tombs in the cliff face.

We made a camping spot on the steep terraces in Pisac. The next day people told us they saw our fire.

On to Ollantaytambo, a super historic little town with narrow streets made by the Incas. The houses people live in today are tru museums.

A massive two day party(the birth of the town) stirred the streets into a colorful event. Lots of partyfood, especially cuy (guinea pig) and Chicha (fermented corn beer).

This is how all the traditional people dress. Yes, every day.

Everybody with big plastic cups full with Chicha.

There were a lot of traditional concerts as well.

An Inca Lookout tower high above Ollantaytambo.

The next Inca site was Moray where amphitheatre-like terracing is beleaved to have been a kind of laboratory to determine the optimal conditions for growing crops of each species.

Many, many times you come across pastores with their sheep, pigs, cows, llamas and dogs. It really becomes part of your everyday walk.

Here in Latin America they have no Helloween but Dia de los vivos and Dia de los Muertos (Day of the living and dead). The firts is celebrated with Tamales, pan de trigo y chancho (corndough in cornleaves, wheat bread, and pig). So the days before you can learn how to slaughter a pig. How they kill, burn- then scrape-off the hair (cause yes they skin is nice and crispy) and then clean the pig.

Those breads, Huahua, are baked in different forms, then offered and later eaten.

And after eating all this it's time for the death. So the next day EVERYBODY moves to the cementery to renew the graves of loved ones, put flowers, burn candels, place coronas (paper crowns) and eat more sweets while washing it away with yet more Chicha.

I got lucky with hitching a ride and Persy and Melisa drove me from start to finish in a wild ride through red-soiled lands and many valleys. All the way to Ruinas Sondor where I camped all by myself under a wide open sky with thousands of stars.

Selling absolutely the most delicious cheese I've tasted so far here in Peru, to bus passengers.

Near Ayacucho you may visit the town of Quinua where you can walk across the battlefield where the Spaniards and Peruvians fought untill Spanish royalist troops signed their surrender, leading to the end of colonialism in Peru.

Interesting spider no? Anybody knows what it's called?

In Ayacucho I met Shanty, 52 and his daughter Mama Quilla, 7 with whom I spend two very nice relaxing days. Growing in his garden, Shanty offered to have me try San Pedro, a cacti that grows here in Peru and Bolivia in the high Andes. The drank made from this cacti will give you a journey to your innerself. A chance to gain more knowlodge about oneself, an deeper insight and understanding about life and how you might live with life.

Of course I had heard many times about it, and today seemed to be a perfect time to accept. I fasted for 38 hours, drank two cups of very bitter extraction, stayed open to every possibility, but was told that I needed more. It seemed that I had a very strong spirit. I was left with a vague dreamy state and restlessness in my sleep that night.

We'll try again.

A Shoeboy sowing my weathered shoes for $0,30 ........Shamefull.

Dried frogs at the Huancayo market. Only the head is eaten.

The delicious fruit concoctions they make for you can keep you going for hours.

No frogs please!

Passing many people working the chacras.

And this is how they make the mud-bricks, adobes, with which they build their houses:

Hack earth from a solid wall, this grainy sand is mixed with water and mashed with the feet into a clay-mass, put into molds and stamped firmly. Following is a dry period of four to five weeks before they are moved into big open ovens (made of those same bricks) which are stoked for five days with eucaliptus wood. And then moved to the truck and on to the new owner ........ all by hand.

A thousand stones for $100,-

In the super friendly town of Cochas they turn Mates (family of the calabas) into tru pieces of art. For sure it's my favorite type of souvenir and so I roamed around the town into different craft shops for the whole day. Meeting all the enthousiastic artesanos, their work, learning about the different ways of burning and listening to the different stories that are told with the carvings. Each is like a book!

I bought something with everyone and was invited to sleep and eat with Alejandro and Andrea who (to my opinion) carved the finest.

In one of the work shops I spotted a photo from a gorgeous Nevado with a tuquois lake at it's feet. It turned out to be Nevado Huaytapallana, only two hours away by car.

The next day I set off and the day gave me some nice hiking, touching this massive glacier and extreme stomach cramps. It turns out that eating bananas with extreme cold is really bad. (Tell me, who knew that?)

I ate three little ones with the icy view and was rewarded with massive pains and extremely bloaded intestines.

Tears were rolling down my cheeks after Andrea brought me some warm herbal tea later at night. Trust me, I have no idea what the real cause was, but bananas will not be on the menu any more when I go cold.

Next ride (and the last one for today) was a dangerous one. First this one 'thing' came loose when we took a bump with speed and after this was repaired we did not get much further then ten minutes before the whole axel came down. It was 7pm, all people drooped off with passing busses. I waited untill I retrieved my money and parked my tent right there in the middle of nowhere. Great place, cheap too. For safety they burn two massive tired on both sides of the bus ..... you know, instead of safety-triangles.

The bus who picked me up the next day knew of the accident and gave me a free ride to the highest town of its size in the world, Cerro the Pasco, 4333m above sealevel. It indeed takes your breath away.

That's it. I'm off to the Huaraz area where hiking will be priority one, lets hope the rainy season can stay away three more weeks (normally it starts around now).

Cañon Cotahuasi & Colca

It has been three weeks sins I've seen a bed or a shower and I could not feel better, richer or cleaner. The last three weeks I've been hidden in deep canyons with small towns where I could pitch my tent in any main plaza. I climed three passes over 5500 meters and I discovered the most friendly people. They fed me warm auhuitas, maza mora, roasted havas, whole meals and many cups of chicha. Many times I lost the way, never I back-tracked; I would simply point my nose in the right direction and follow the cow paths. Sometimes I was lucky to run into somebody with some sheep, a donkey with cargo or the mine workers. All very happy to stop their trail and chat to this gringa so far away. I pointing finger was offered, a vague discription of the road ahead or, in the case with the mine workers, a ride to a mine (there is a lot of gold in those mountains) only three hours away from my destination (those man were so bafled with me that I was given a huge lunch in their cantina and crackers and water for the road).

No electricity, cooking with dried cow-shit, corn and potato's three times a day; but a school in every town, sometimes with only five children. The teachers walk in (sometimes ten hours with a donkey with their food) and stay about three weeks before returning home (a 24 hour journey) for a few days.

It's the time of planting corn and brown beans, other grains will follow. The sun gets up at 5:40, the people at 4:30. They work several hours before breakfast in the field in big groups. The whole town works on one mans field, then they move to the next. Chicha (fermented corn-drink, to me really yakkie but boy does it give you energy) is poored plentyfull to keep the men going. Lunch about 11am and 4pm they call it a day, walking home uphill for about an hour or more. To me it felt a lot more in harmony then any 'group' in our world.

Men work here to live, their time is spend to fill their stomach. What they put in the ground they eat five months later. They were so proud to tell me that there life is way better because everything is organic. The wall they build is to keep the wind away, the water chanels are kept up-to-date, the animals are walked to fields with the most grass and everybody knows that extra wood is always welcome to cook. Many donkeys fload around for cargo, every woman has a bundel on her back, big cows are used to plow the land, llamas, alpacas, sheep and guinea pigs are raised for wool and meat.

Many times no money is made; why, they grow everything they need. Just a little salt and sugar is traded.

There is so much I could tell you about the far away life on those high plateaus, but it would bore you without photo's, my enthousiastic voice, the taste of the choclo & the havas to wash it all down with chicha, the sun shining down on your face or the cactispines pinching in your toes. For those who will see me in the future, they might be lucky to get a good story about this still hidden place. In any other case I can only recommend you to take a trip, some places should stay untouched and are only describable by going there.

O, don't forget to learn Spanish before you go.

Before Cañon Cotahuasi I hopped off the bus to see the Toro Muerto Petroglyphs near Corire.

This unusual site, spread over several square kilometers of desert, consists of thousands of black volcanic boulders carved with stylized animals, people and birds. It's thought to be made by the Wari culture about 1200 years ago.

Almost every rock you see in the photo has a patroglyph. Really amazing.

Ten at night the bus passed Corire on it's way to Cañon Cotahuasi. I hopped on, we arrived at three in the morning and I decided that this bench in the little cozy plaza was good enough for the next four hours. The locals were very surprised when I stuck my head out of the sleepingbag that morning.

A good meal before leaving. This is a perfect example of how they use pasta, rice and potato's in one dish. Sometimes the pasta is spaghetti, sometimes the potato is like fries or baked.

Leaving the town of Cotahuasi, let the three weeks walking begin.

First goal was Catarata Sipia. Slept not too far away from there and bathed in the fresh river.

Next day I came across my first llamas with bells around their neck and plumes in their ears, the local way of dressing up. This is a group of 50. The man in the back are on their way to a party. The one on the left has a cage on his back with three chickens. It's the last of seven to pay for his future wife.

It was a super fun walk this day. Lots of variety. Here going over one of the many bridges made from old train tracks, stones and branches.

I ended with a last haul in Huarhua. A little town with a salt mine and no electricity.

Graciela and Diana is where I found a warm meal of Mute (a sort corn), havas (big brown beans), donkey meat (very tastefull) and sopa de Cebada (soup with a chunck of sheep meat, very soft meat).

Packing up the tent the next morning with the snowy tops of the Solimana mountains in the background.

Cañon Cotahuasi, the deepest canyon in the world with 3345m below the adjacent snowy peaks of Nevado Coropuna. The Grand Canyon in the USA is only 1500m. This is not it's deepest point.

A group of corn planters waved me in for chicha. I learned a lot that afternoon. About the tool they use, a Chaki Taglia which is puched into the ground with the foot and then pulled down on the half-round top to break the earth. And this in groups of three men. A woman walks where the ground is open and throws corn around after which some others reik it all over.

After two cups of chicha I hiked up the hill with one of the man because they had told me about funeral places with bones and skulls with hair. Well, it was all tru, under different huge boulders were funeral grounds. Walls were build and closed as tombs, but now opened by a careless geologist. All bones were thrown out in search of 'treasures'. It was still amazing to see those sites which are pre-Inca. Precious cups, painted pottery and textile were all seen.

I did not make it to Pampamarca that night so I slept beside the gravel road. In the morning it turned out to be a mining road and I escaped being run over by just half a meter ........ twice. I tell you, hell of a way to wake up at 5:17am.

From Pampamarca you hike up to Bosque de Piedras de Hito. See Photo.

I hiked further up and got extremely scared with how the 'path' was going: straight up and climbing narrow gaps with brittle rocks and loose grasses. Getting to a plateau I really had no idea how I was going down. I'm here writing this, so probably I made it.

I was invited by the lonely nurse in the exteremely dirty hospital to eat and sleep. She enjoyed my company and me the bed and nit putting up the tent.

But what I really should have done was walk one hour down the hill and camp at the Jhosla hot springs. I could kill myself when I saw this beautiful spot the next day. With perfect grass, no people and a cave with hot water it would have been haven to spend a night here. Now I could only soak to get super dirty again within half an hour sweating up the hill.

Again I met a group of hard working, bright smiling people who invited me for Choclo and Havas.

High up, at 5000m or so, you still come across people going from town to town. This old lady and her son were packing woven goods on thier donkeys. Even during the hiking she was spinning her wool with the Puska.

Many free llamas along the way. The Alpacas live higher and are smaller/finer build. I also spotted Vicuñas which are brown, thinner yet and have very different necks.

The hike went further down all the way to the river in the bottom of the canyon. The town of Luigo has warm baths as well and I camped right infront of thier door. The people of Luigo use the springs as thier shower (lucky yes) and are delighted to see tourist to share their bathing hour.

That night I left for Andahua, taking three busses, setting my tent on a gabage spot half a night and waiting in a desolated town the next. Arriving in Andahua at two in the morning to, again, put my tent in the plaza gardens in the freezing dark.

I was very welcome in this town. Very fast I was known all around as: 'The Gringa who is looking for a burro (donkey).' I made my last halfday walk here. Then it was done with my toes. I had caught feet fungus in the last week and with walking in closed shoes, sweating the whole day, it had gotten really bad and now there were nasty wounds that hurt like hell.

I stayed three days in Andahua, got to know the whole town, was fed by anybody who wanted a bead- or knotted bracelet (I became so famous with this that people were looking for me).....

...... My feet were washed by Irma who made a bath of camomille, rock salt and tiqueltique herbs. It really helped, the next day my sores were dried and closed!

Her mother was over 90 years old and still would not eat untill her two children and the guest were full.

Ms Pilar owned one of the watering holes closest to my tent and the first morning she came down with an extra frasada (thick banket) which I thankfully used every night. We had tea evenings and shared some stories.

Towns meeting.

No donkeys to be found in Andahua, so I walked to Chachas through Valle de los Volcanos to continue the search. I wanted to have this four-feeter to carry my backpack to the next canyon. In Cotahuasi I had left half my cargo in the town where I returned, this time I would not return, I would go in one line to Chivay.

Upon arrival in Chachas my message was spoken over the towns microphone .......... hahahaha: 'Quien tiene un burro para vender. Aki hay una gringa qual quiere comprar para crusar el cerro a Miña.' It was hilarious. I watched the football game Peru-Bolivia (0-3 for Bolivia) with those guys (yeah, they had sattelite and electricity sins two years) but nobody showed up.

The teachers of this town took good care of me. It was a truly gezellige evening with toasted corn, cheese and very chatfull cheer. Gracias Luzgardo y Haide para un noche muy comodo.

I met a lady who went to Arequipa. She took my box with extra stuff and I would call her upon arrival in Chivay so she could put this box on a bus (only three hours away). A great solution and so my search for a donkey ended.

And the real hiking started again. Up the hill, leaving Chachas behind. You can see valle de los Volcanes too.

Five pm, I was dead from walking up to 5800m. Pithed my tent in the icy wind, looked a last time to the colorful mountains around me, saw the full moon rizing and crawled into my warm sleeping bag to wait for the next sunrise.

Nothing but colorful mountains I passed at that altitude. It's the day I met the miners and was brought to a mine from where the town miña only three hours downhill was. It's where I slept and was fed tea and soup by the school teacher.

Several times I saw the superiour condor fly right by me. One of the highlights for most tourists to this part of Peru. An ancient looking bird that does not flap it wings for hours bur sears on the warm winds that rise from the canyon grounds.

Cañon Colca.

The deeper into the canyon the more I saw the traditional clothing of the woman. Fine broidered hats, vests, skirts and blouses. All done with a regular sowing machine.

On my way down to the river bodem. Taking a break with some tea.

Two days later on my way back up to Tapay I saw my first tourists in two weeks.

This lady (I forgot her name) kept me three hours in her little store to teach her different knitting bracelets, she was very taken with it and gave me one of her own (different type) when we said goodbye.

Just a few steps further I met part of a group of medico's from the USA and Canada. They were here for two weeks to give medical aid to people in small towns without a doctor. Its a society, a pilgrimage where all participants pay a huge contribution, their own flight and try to get sponsored medecins.

I've always wondered if I could not do more then just pass-by in those towns and on my walk to Tapay I decided that this was a good chance to see what those volunteer-groups do.

Coincidentially we all ended up at the same lady who had a free camping spot for me and cheap little houses for the medical team. The next two nights I would sleep here, get to know those people, SPEAK ENGLISH (what a delight), eat delicious meals, learn what medico's do in the little towns and help out here and there.

For two days they set up clinic, spreading out a table full of medecins and vitamins. Reading glasses and a seccion to educate the people. One room for the two doctors and one for chiropractic help.

Sometimes those 'white docters' come across a case they can help and save, like a hand which was swollen cause of a wrong lymph system, or a girl who had a wrong growing neck-collum, or a child with a heavy outbreak of a fungus. Many times they are preventive with the gifts of reading glasses, informative lessons about picking up stuff and toothbrushes. But sometimes I wonder if their own helpful medecins: the herbs, pre-inca remedies and just plain rest are not forgotten with all those chemical pills. It scared me sometimes how much the team tried to solve any complained of themselves with a pill or cream. In any case they are very welcome in every town and save or better the lives of many, maybe only for a month, sometimes for a lifetime long. Their work is well worth it, if only for their own pleasure of getting to know those far away places.

The last day, the last six hour climb up to almost 5000m. The Coropuna tops in the far distance.

A long 12 hour day behind me, I arrived in Madrigal when the lights of town went on.

I made a call to Gregoria to send my stuff to Chivay the next day and pithed my tent for the last time in a friendly park.

The bus to Chivay was bumpy and relaxing. Wow, so nice to sit and watch the scenery go by without getting tired. In chivay I was greeted by many tourists that had no idea what treasures were behind these hills, a market where I could CHOOSE what I wanted to eat, fresh bread, icecream, an internet cafe, my extra things at the bus terminal and right now I'm off to my hotel with a bed and (hopefully) warm shower. I feel like a spoiled princess.

All About Lago Titicaca

After my friend Truus went back to Holland I decided to make a round of pretty blue Lago Titicaca.

Moho was the first little town, where I ran into the celebration of the virgin of this town.

About five bands were playing at the same time while all the onlookers drank wine and trago with bbq meat. A bull fight went off as well and within about two hours three bulls were played tired and killed with two spears between the shoulderblades. It's the first time I saw bulls being killed in a ring and I have to say that it did not pain me. Probably because I knew that all bulls were butchered and eaten at this same party.

The next day I walked some to cross the border into Bolivia.

Here you can see the border-marked which really was very rustic. This whole north side of the lake is very isolated. No tourist take this route that takes long busses and sometimes long waiting times.
Ever had soup with fries?
Another day of small towns and long mini-busses brought me back on the gringo-trail in Copacabana, Bolivia.
The sunset upon arrival.

Here a good solo adventure departed.

I rented a kayak of the oldest kind (so no light weight fiberglass, but heavy plastic and in the biggest size possible for two people) and peddled off towards Isla del Sol and Isla de la Luna.

For four days/four nights I peddled in 'Tigre' from interesting point to desolated beach to Inca ruins.

Here you see me after the first four hour peddled on the first afternoon. My tent is down below in the shade, so I hiked to the top of the ridge to enjoy the last sunshine with Isla de la Luna in the background.

The first morning I woke up on Isla del Sol I visited the most importand temple. The tempel where the Incas believe the sun (their god) was born:

Life on the islands is very simple and tranquilo. The people fish for two kinds of fish: Trucha (trout) and ? (I forgot). Woman wear the big skirts as everywhere but no other traditional colours.

The ladies on this photo are washing clothes in a 'tile' made from a piece of plastic and rocks placed in a circle.

After hiking to the highest point of Isla del Sol I kayaked in three hours to Isla de la Luna.

Notice the peddle which is made from a thick, heavy broomstick. Yes, I was making muscles.

Isla de la Luna (where the moon is born according to the Incas) was a lot more relaxed. No tours go here, it's private and so the inhabitants (no more then 90) are a lot more friendly and open. On Isla del Sol they see several tourboats a day with maybe more then 100 tourists in total. You can imagine that that gets a little tired.

In this photo you see a traditional fishers boat, one upside down with rough wool drying on top and troutbreeding nets in the lake.

Wool and some artesanias are the only things they have to make some income to buy the little things they can't make themselves.

I hiked all round the little island and encountered two little girls who were playing with their colourful, plastic little playthings (it reminded me a lot about myself playing with my dufties when I was little). Their lama was grazing in the back.

I met a very nice lady here on the island who made the most delicious soup for me after I had visited the temple of the moon. With candles and her fire we sat in the little back-kitchen with her two children. I taught them new knot-ways to make bracelets to sell while the guinea pigs were pieping under the stools (they would be to eat later when fat).

The hardest day came next. A massive paddle back to Isla del Sol. Against the waves and wind, five hours long. I had a very sour muscle and empty mind when I arrived on a very fine sandy beach.

Within ten seconds though I had more then 15 kids around me that wanted to play with 'Tigre'. I send them all away for an hour. But eventually they were on it, and the rest of the afternoon I let them go, holy shit, seven kids all at once!

In the morning.

Another isolated beach with Tigre, me and a cigaret.

The last day it was just lovely because I had all the waves behind me and there was no hard peddeling. I went all around the island and camped all alone on a lonely point with a lighthouse and a view of the sunset and the sunrise.

My finger points where my tent is very down below.

It was the only night I made a campfire to cook some lake water for tea. Dead cacti seems to burn very well. The stars were awesome every night and I would sleep with my door open and my head outside to count the shooting stars.

At the island, on the sandy beach, I had met Deger. Originally from Turkey, but living in New York for the last nine years. He invited me to stay in his weird hotel when I would arrive back.

It was this strange egg-shaped house with two floors, a shell-shaped shower, hammocks and.....

..... a huge round bed right when you walked into the lower door. A super cool little place with everything you need.

It was a very nice, luxury night with a warm shower and diner with wine in a more upscale restaurant. Deger was also very interesting to talk with, being an inventor of all sorts of interesting argitectual stuff. He had just won a Red Point award!

Breakfast with view.

The road continued back to Peru where I saw my first wild pink flamingo's. Many would follow.

I did not feel like taking a bus, so I walked for a few hours along the fields of working people. This girl and her mum waved me closer and fed me ava and chocle (big brown beans and a kind of corn). The main food for many.

In little Juli I ran into yet another party. This one was a dance competition with 14 groups from all over who made a parade and after did a ten minute dance each in beautiful clothes. Some where really funny so everybody would laugh behind their hands.

As you can see there is not much veriation in the way you put your hair or which hat you choose.... or which wide skirt that covers all with a vest on top.

It was super cool to visit the animal sell market. Sheep and pigs were transported in every way. Also for sale were puppies (females 30 centd, males 1 dollar), Lama's between 40 and 70 dollara, Alpaca's between 30 and 50 dollars, rabbits for 1,30 and chickens for 7 dollars.
It was time to leave Lago Titcaca behind, the whole circle was completed, I had returned to Puno.

My next bus went to Arequipa, the second biggest city in Peru, but with a very nice downtown with a beautiful cathedral.

I found a cheap hotel in the hooker neighborhoud with private bathroom where I could wash my underwear and recover for four days from the fast moving pattern.

It was lovely to unpack and have a home with a key and warm bed.

Another parade, don't ask me why, but the dresses were again impressively done with broader work.

I visited Monasterio Santa Catalina.

Founded about 50 years after the Spanish concuered Peru and the Inca kingdom. Second daughters of wealthy Spanish families were send here. Isolated cells were build so the nuns could live lonely lives devoted to god. The whole structure is one whole block big, has many hallways and livingquarters in bright colours and a very spanish feel to it. It was very overpriced, but definably interesting.

One of the many kitchens.
In the street I ate a very cool fruit 'Tuna'. It looks the same on the outside but has four different colours and tastes on the inside. I tried all and white/green is the best.

The people of Arequipa were very friendly. Often I would sit down and talk for hours with them. Just how they live, what they sell, and what their kids do. The marked was my favorite place and after four days I think half of the working people knew me. I would try all Arequipa's special delicasies.

With this crazy shoelease seller, who explained me all the symbols of the Peruvian flag, I will leave you untill the next stories about my favorite place so far here in Peru: Cañon Cotahuasi.

Peru with Truus

And there she was: my friend of twenty years from Holland.

Truus

Two weeks were ours; two weeks we could drink tea, eat bread and discover Peru.

Truus and I with the first of many cups of tea.

For 30 cents you can do a cuppa now and then eh?

NAZCA AND IT'S MYSTERIOUS LINES

It all started with her backpack not arriving, so we had to spend an extra day in boring Lima. But after those first 24 hours waiting and a nightbus of more then seven hours we arrived in the big Pampa Colorado in the town of Nasca.

I think that most of us have heard of the famous Nasca Lines. This great archaeological mystery consists of over 800 straight lines, 300 geometric figures (geoglyphs) and 70 spectacular animal and plant drawings (biomorphs). The lines are made by removing the darker sun-dried crust to the side to expose the lighter soil below, this over an area of 500 sq km.

The little plain that showed us the mystery from above.

Those figures are of course best appreciated from above, so every day many little planes carry four to six tourist per time into the air, to make a circle of: the monkey, hummingbird, astronaut, lizard, dog, condor, spider and many more.

The Hummingbird

Truus' and mine conclusion was that those ancient lines were made out of respect for the animals, as a part of ritual to honor their surroundings and maybe also a little out of boredom. Why else do we paint, make jewelry or grow flowers?


Traditional dancers and their band with an Arpa (the big instrument).

We were lucky to run into Nazca's cultural festival. Many dance performances were given by little kids and adults in draditional dress. A huge funfair (with the biggest amount of football tables ever) gave the air a colorfull light and Mazamora and Ponche were our new discoveries to eat.

SHOPPING IN CUSCO

During the 12 hour bus ride to Cusco we encountered a protest of students.

The bus brought us in fast tempo from sea level to 3326m above. It gave a nasty sick feeling during the ride and made our hearts beat fast to get more air with less oxygen.

Cusco is a the place where Manco Capac, the first inca, could plunge a golden rod into the ground untill it disappeard. He had found the navel of the earth (qosq'o in the Quechua language).

It became the thriving capital of the Inca empire, starting around 1100 AD and ended by the Spaniards in 1532.

Me in front of the famous, well-fitted, 12-sided stone in one of the many inca walls.

Almost all main churches in Peru are build on top of the Inca tempels. The Spaniards ruined all marvelous buildings, robbed everything from it's gold and precious stones and smashed statues and pottery that had spiritual value for the Inca's.

If you walk through Cusco you can still see the original inca walls with their technically brilliant fitting stones though.

Dried Llama foutussen for offering to mother earth.

Inside the big market.

One of our many cups of coca-tea, they say it helps with the altitude.

The main plaza in Cusco.

After this day roaming around we came home a bit poorer but very colorfull.

THE ANCHIENT CITY OF MACHU PICCHU

Underway with the bus to Santa Maria, the first stop of three on the way to Machu Picchu.

During the years of 1438 to 1470, the ninth inca, Pachacutec, embarked upon agressive empire building. Machu Picchu is one of the mountaintop citadels build in this period.

It's desolated location and the overgrown jungle kept it hidden untill American historian Hiran Bingham stumbled upon it in 1911 while being guided around by locals.

These days it's the prime destination of all tourists to Peru, the cherry on the cake as we say. And righteous so. It's a place of great grandeur and the location it absolutely stunning.

To get here, most people take a train in the morning to just have enough time to see the main ruins and see the site from the 'caretakers hut' for the famous postcard-picture, but this option costs (this year) minimum $104. Others, with time, walk the three day Inca-trail or one of the similar routes. A beautiful hike over high passes with other peole that carry your food, tent and other needs. The fourth day you visit the ruins and you take the last train back to Cusco, a tour of at least $300 to $400.

Truus and I would have loved to hike, but time was too short (and I REALLY dislike hiking in a group with (slow) strangers) and the wallet not so thick. So we opted for DIY.

First you take a 6 hour bus to Santa Maria, then you share a colectivo (car or minibus) to Santa Marta along a gravel road. From here you take another colectivo to a hydroelectric plant along an even worse gravel road. At this point the road stops and the railroad track starts (or ends, how ever way you look at it). Two hours of uneven steps brings you to the touristy town of Agua Calientes. You can do this trip by organized tour for $180 or by yourself for $10 or less.

It's not difficult, many others step the same way and it takes only one day to get there.

Truus and I during the two hour train-tracks-hike.

First entrance, mystical fog covers the grounds and llamas keep the grass short.

At 4:30am you hike with a few more diehards the steps to the entrance (about one hour, you can also take a $7 bus) to enter the site before sunset and get tickets to climb Wayna Picchu, the mountaintop behind the site.

My favorite time of this day, 5pm, sunset and no more tourist. It was so quiet with only the birds and chewing llama's.

We walked so much this day, trying to see all there is to see. Sadly we missed eachother when I came back from a little solo-expedition, so from ten till three we both did our own things untill Truus found me talking to some moss scrapers (cleaning the walls).

Alpaca meat: tastes almost the same as beef.

We ended the day in town with soar calves from all the Inca stairs, but with a traditional Alpaca (family of the llama) steak and very very good new memories.

CUSCO AND THE DAY OF THE VIRGEN NATIVIDAD

We were lucky again to be back in Cusco with the celebration of the Virgen Natividad. A huge fest with lots of fryed Cuy (guinea pig), sparkling suits, glittering dresses and colorfull ornaments. A huge parade went through town and all woman made swaying motions while the man had whole dances.

PUNO AND THE CHULLPAS

At the market to drink 'un Especial Extra'

This drink contains truly all the protein you might need: eggs, raisins, beer, milk, sugar, extract from Algarrobo (is from a plant and makes you strong), maca powder (good for your brain/memory), papaya, carrot and banana's. Yes, it tastes good and fills you for several hours.

The traditional hats that all woman wear and which never fall from their head. It really looks like they are glued on.

Our next expedition went to the Cutimbo Chullpas.

This site has square and cylindrical funerary towers made by the Colla, Lupaca and Inca Cultures.

The Cutimbo Chullpas: Funerary towers.

This dramatic wind-swept site has an extraordinary position atop a table-topped volcanic hill surrounded by a fertile plain, now yellow in the dry season, but totally green in the rainy time.

LAGO TITICACA AND ITS SPECIAL ISLANDS

For two days/one night we went island hopping on tremendously blue lake Titicaca.

There is almost no way you can avoid the other admirers and I had to swallow a few times by the sight of all the tourists that made thousands of the same photo's and the locals who know how to tell the most sad stories to get your simpathy....... and money.

First stop were the floating islands of the Uros people. Made from two meters of Totora roots tightly packet with earth which they cut out in the deeper parts, and ontop of that dried totora reed, also two meters or more. This makes walking very bouncy. I absolutely loved it! You can just run on bare feet, fall and sit super comfortably. The botom part of this reed is eadable too, it tastes watery.

Their houses, souveniers and boats are also made of this material.

A Totora reed boat takes a month to make and holds for one to two years.

The woman wear huge pompoenen in their hair.

Bouncing about.

One of the many islands, they tigh them down on the botom, a 3 to 12 meter freedive.

Traditional Quechua-speaking Amantani islanders on the dock.

A three hour boatride brought the group to Isla Amantani. About 4000 people live here in ten comunities. Upon arrival many beautiful dressed woman stand on the dock in the hope they get a few tourists for the night. There is not a lot you can do yourself, without doing a tour it's still arranged. And you pay good for the three potato meals with fried eggs and delicious soup: $8.30 (in comparison with $4 for a way better bed with breakfast in Puno.)

But our family was very nice, Celia, the 17-year old daughter had a daughter who became three months and was riskfree for early-birth death. So we helped her pick a name. They don't name their babies before this date.

Celia making a cape.

The island was dry, in beautiful contrast with the lake and air and full with traditionally dressed peole and their sheep. There is not enough food for cows, and because every little piece of earth is used for agriculture they don't want chicken who scretch all the seeds up.

The islands are full with super old arches and steps leading to old ruins where chamans make offers to Pachamama and Pachatata the second Thursday in Januari.

In one of those ruins we found a funny little woman who made us Muña tea and Picarones.

The boys drinking sweet Muña and Tortorchi in the morning before school.

On the next Island: Isla Taquile

A very old Tequile habitant, who made his own hat.

At the island of Tequile the man make their own hats (and now many more for tourists) while the woman spin the wool, make colofull waistbands and also knit and croshe whatever you might need for the cold nights.

LAST STOP: LAMPA

The day started with a gorgeous sunrise from our beds, we had a huge window with this view.

The ghoulishly decorated tomb of Don Enrique Torres Belon.

For our last day we took a colectivo to the small pink-buidings town of Lampa. The really pretty church in this place has two strange things: first of all it still has Inca catacombs below, not much, more a damp cellar with one hallway, and secondly it has a huge domed tomb constructed by Don Belon who decorated his own 'grave' with skeletons and skulls of spanish goldmine workers from the graveyard nearby. Brrrr.

More cheery times: Every Saturday everyone gets married and peppered with confetti.

One of the many llamas along the walk to Cueva de los Toros

This little girl came along as guide and shared our fruit. She knew so much.

On the way back we hitched a ride with a truck full of Alpaca's, Truus' best moment of the two weeks.

For the second time (near Machu Picchu we slept two nights in the tent as well) we pitched my little tent in some ruins and cuddled close against the cold.

Selfmade guacamole in the tent.

Well, and that was it. A last day to organize in Juliaca where Truus would fly the next morning to Lima to catch her plane to Amsterdam in the afternoon.

There is no doubt she saw the best and most beautiful of Peru.

Bedankt Truus, voor het dragen van al die extra's, voor het luisteren, voor het vertrouwen in je vertellen en je inzichten die alleen iemand die me 20 jaar kent kan hebben.

Ik hou van je.

Stepping over the Ecuador

Three weeks of Ecuador, here we go:

Without a guide; wishing for a map that first morning with breakfast and being sold one five minutes later by a street guy who came walking in, the first advise came fast and many would follow. It was super fun to travel with a map, asking everyone what their favorite place was. You still get to all the good spots, even to some that guidebooks have no idea about, but it's also less practical and makes your travel slower with the chance of missing things cause many locals have no ideas about their own country.

But the first place I had to visit was the cemetery of Tulcan. See below why. Many of those cypresses were carved and cut in great shapes and figures for more then 200 years. The garden man were extremely proud of their work and wanted me to see everything.

One of my most saying photo's, so lets not say anything (besides that after several times trying she still had no succes so she gave up).
Next advise was a visit to Chical, a four hour bus ride along the boarder to the end of the road. Arriving in the evening, I was given huge eyes to be here, a few yards from the boarder, at night, with no real purpose. But within half an hour drinking tea and talking, a lady offered me to sleep on her porch. Below were some guys drinking rum. One of them, Chris, was from the USA and worked for the Peace Corps, he as well was astonished. It became a fun night with FINALLY some easy english.

Back to Tulcan and the hotel where I had stayed the first night to ask if he maybe had found my small bag, my skirt and my headlamp ...... we all knew the cleaning lady (or he himself) had been in my bag while I had stored it in a room for several hour the day before.

The cleaning lady would not arrive untill 9am, I wanted to get going at 6am, so lets hope she can really use those things.

Otavalo, they told me, had a huge Saturday market with lots of souvenirs and indigenous people. I arrived, looked for a place to dump my bag and found this in 'Pata de Perro', a store with lots of artesanias made by the owners Paul and Doris (brother and sister) and cool clothes.

My jaw dropped upon arrivel to the market........ So many tourists, unreal! I guess this was the end of feeling like your the only one, from now one there would be many more backpackers and the attitude of people is definably shaped with this. Besides that you can find nice places to eat and cozy places to drink coffee, the internet cafes will be more expensive and the hotels will have shared kitchens. It all has it pro's and con's.

The market itself was amazing, lots of color, traditionally dressed people, fresh produce, new things to eat and whatever the people here need.

Peeling beans:

Souvenirs from tradition. Or: tradition forms souvenirs.
So many different beans and corn.

Came along a traditional wedding:

Ate Papas Fritas con Sangre, Fried potatos with blood. It's very tasty because of the fried potato's, the blood does not have much taste. The mamasita who sold it all day at different markets around the area, together with her neighbor for the day, kept me talking for an hour and made me feel a little different then many.

Back at 'Pata de Perro' I asked if Doris knew a place for me to sleep, she told about her brother Paul and that many travelers couch-surfed at his place. Tonight it would be my turn. Turned out he had driven tourists around Ecuador and Peru for seven year for 2 to 6 week tours. Lots of advise and ideas came to me.

The next morning, on my way to the first hike here, I saw this stand with lots of brews and slimy drap. Mmm, I had to try this out: Aguas medicinales.

It's a cacti that seems good for the stomach and is mixed with all kinds of other things herbal. You have no idea what you slibber in, but you feel stronger and better prepared for all streetfood afterwards.

Laguna Cuicocha. A vulcanic crater with an island in the middle. Beautiful to hike around in a few hours.

Another hike to a sacred tree 'Lechucho' with beautiful views of Lago San Pedro, vulcan Imbabura and Catacochi.

With Paul I took a bus to Quito, the capital with 2 million people. First we stopped at 'Mitad del Mundo', a world famous place to step from the Northern to the Southern hamosphere.

I'm in the North, Paul is in the South.

It was just a few blocks down from the Mitad where we both got new piercings, for me just a spur-of-the-moment thing, for Paul something he wanted for a long time, his oldest 12 year daughter has a tongue piercing too.

Quito, just another big city.
With lots of pretty churches and buildings and squars.

Everybody wants to have shiny shoes.

On to Machachi, nobody really told me to go here, they even didn't get it why I wanted to go there, but it seemed to be a town in the middle of all the vulcanoes looking at my map, and so a good place to go hiking.

I found my place to sleep in the garden of the govenor. He came into Anita's coffee shop where I was drinking tea and knitting a scarf. But later on Anita invited me to stay in her house where there were beds available.

Dolores, Anita and Paul, three generations.

The first day I made a long hike by myself, asking the way along and just keeping to the direction of the top of Vulcan Ruminahui. It was good to hike, but very cloudy and drizzely.

The next day was pure blue and even Anita, who has lived here all her 28 years but has never hiked anywhere, came along to hike to the top of Vulcan Carazon.

This photo showes beautiful Vulcan Cotopaxi in the distance.

It was high and far, the altitude makes the pase go slow, she didn't get all the way up and by the time I came to the last climb it was all surrounded by clouds, so we both didn't see what we were hoping for when the blue morning welcomed us. But other things were just as lovely.

As a final I visited the full, traditional, drowned (it had just rained madly) market that afternoon.

A long bus ride through dryer but very open and massive country brough me to Laguna Quilotoa. The first thing I saw from my bus window was this couple killing a sheep. I walked over and watched the whole process of taking off the skin, taking out the things not used (very little) and cleaning the intestines by pooring water in the anus for the big ones and into the little ones as well but by taking a mouth full of water and blowing/pressing this inside.

I put my tent beside their house for the next night.

A three months baby had died of the harsh winds that afternoon and the house of the parents was beside my tent, I heard the mother cry the whole night, trying to work away the pain, other ladies came sit with her in the cold night and her feelings were all around us.

I was happy when grey light appeared and I could get dressed and warm myself with sunlight and other throughts.

6:30 am

Absolutely a fantastic, magnificent, hugely cool hike. In four and a half hours a walked the whole rim of this volcano with its salty turquoise waters down below. Up and down and back up and down again. Really wowy.

Came along some kids who were walking their alpaka's for grazing.

And the night before and that afternoon after the hike I was warmed by Mechita who cooked a wonderfull soup of the intestines of the sheep I had seen being killed and made tea without stopping for me. I hope my scarf will keep her warm at this altitude of 4300, originally she is from the warmer coastal area.

Locals had told me that Chocha was in a 15 day feast to celebrate the harvest. Every day there were bull rides and drinking. Ok, lets go.

I walked down there in one-and-a-half hour and was greeted by a little dusty, cold peublo where the campesinos knew how to make puro (a clear alcoholic drink) but not how to take it easy. Especially many woman were absolutely drunk and needed support from their friends to keep dancing. All had a liter pack of wine and the band played the same tune for at least 15 minutes before changing just a little for the next 15.

The arena was made out of ram-shack poles and planks that you could mound only with little ladders. The different bulls were let into the ring and just about everyone could go hastle it. Many young guys were just standing there and would run when the bull made a move. It was not all that exciting, but o so traditional.

I forgot what those pipes were called.

The wine and Puro were served to every neighbor closeby. I was amazed by how little interest they gave to me being there. I wonder what they were thinking.

The band on top of the very shaky stallation, the crazy dancing people drunk and hilarious.
Next stop: Baños; because many locals told me all tourist go there, so there must be something to see. The environment was indeed very picturesque.

Dump the bag and start walking around with the question if someone knows a free place to put the tent. Within an hour I knew this little town and had found Karina who baby-sitted a huge house with some garden. I would come back later and her husband Marcelo would bring me to the house. Eventually, after their work (she in a restaurant, he with one of the many tour operators) we went to their house and I got an invitation to sleep in her mothers bed. Mum told me that she slept with the kids in the other room anyway and she would leave the next day for five days. I could have this room with key untill Wednesday. Wow, how much of a luxury.

Marcelo, 24, Karina, 19 and me. They also have a little boy of two.

I stayed four nights in this relaxed touristy town. Enjoyed the tranquil atmosphere of the gringo coffee houses, read what I wanted with tea, made bracelets and scarfs, drank more tea, watched way to many people in the swimmingpool hotspring, made a huge hike of a full day through mud and cow-shit, met new friends, danced one night really well with one of them, was dragged along to the night tour to see the vulcanoTungurahua on request that I would spin my fire, but the first night it rained super bad and the second night there was a huge confusion, drank some beer, had good company playing the guitar and enjoyed the fresh air and warm sun.

Damian posing on my request.

The last night I had all those new people, six in total, in the closed restaurant of Damian to drink beer, wine and play music.

Out of Baños, on the way to Puyo, there is a whole highway with gorgeous waterfalls. When I had packed all my things, we had eaten my lasagna of the day before and everybody was kissed goodbye I had the luck of being introduced to George who just happened to be there at the house with his motor. He would bring me to the first waterfall, but stayed untill the last one. It was absolutely the best way to see this part. Easy skipping the cars in line, taking cable cars to the other side for walks, and talking a lot about his experiences in the Ejercito in the jungle of Colombia, his homeland.

This waterfall, Pailon del Diablo, is absolutely one of the coolest ones I've seen in my life, you can hike to the base and behind it. Crawl in caves and stand on the edge to get soaking wet of the spray. It's really a fun place.

In Baños I came acros some guys who lived on a Hare Krishna farm. It all sounded very pretty and jummy, so lets go see. Turned out that the evening I arrived it was Hare Krishna's birthday at midnight.

Everybody had to cook three things (whatever, but vegetarian) to offer, so 9 people made 27 dishes, and after the ceremony at midnight with singing, praying and more music making and singing we had to eat it all...... Absolutely delicious. What a night to arrive.

Happy birthday (5ooo and some more years) Hare Krishna.

I stayed two more nights, working in the kitchen and made beds in this simple, ecological, relaxed lodge. Working as a volonteer you pay a minimum as help for the meals. Every meal would have been enough for a full day normally, without exaggerating. We ate so much. And every morning we would get up for the 6am morning class of two hours and in the evening there was another one at 7:30pm. There were rules I did not understand, but many philosophies to share and use in future understandings.

It would be a lovely place to stay for a long time, to work for the farm (ak Hare Krishna) and have a warm bed and good food every day, but for people that want to see more it's a dead end.

It was wednesday, within four days my friend Truus would arrive in Lima, more then 2000km to the South. It was time to start the ride cause I wanted to do most hitch hiking to save money.

Well, I arrived Saturday morning with only 15 dollars spend on one 17 hour bus and the food for those three days.

I sat in rickety cars, in the back of a pick-up in the blasting sun for three hours, flying hair in the dust, so after half an hour it didn't fly anymore but knitted up. I sat in an old truck for 10 hours, shaking heavily on a beautiful road into a deep valley with a new massive dam in progress and slept on the tight floor (I managed maybe three hours) with the stick (of the truck) in my back. I wandered around Cuenca, a nice coloniala city before heading further in a truck with two youngsters who parked the truck in a parquadero where I could occupy a wooden floor in an empty room for some hours untill daylight made me move again. Another truck for five hours squashed with three in two seats. All those guys were super friendly and often bought my lunch or dinner.

Dropped at the boarder where crossing was done super fast and without questions. It's a small crossing.

Welcome to PERU.

Not knowing it all I hitched further and stopped a white station wagon, turns out those are the colectivos here. there were already three people in the back and two in the passenger seat, but if I wanted I could sit in the back with the luggage. For free? Yes, I won't ask money. Ok. So I sat in the splitting heat in the back for three hours. At one stage another guy crawled in with me for a 15 minute ride! He asked where it was nice to go in Ecuador, so he skribbled some advice down (how was it possible in the non-existing space) and when he could move to the front because someone else got out he said