can you tell me how to get, how to get to lake titicaca?

when planning our route in peru, we decided that we wanted to take a long train ride.  we had heard that peru had beautiful train lines.  and really, shouldn't we all be traveling by train more often?  many people we encountered said that they were venturing to puno via bus, but we had heard horror stories of rickety old buses going up and down windy mountain roads for endless hours.  so that is how we wound up on an infinitely more expensive 8 hour train ride from cusco to puno.  and let me tell you dear blog readers ... it was awesome.

we boarded the train at about 8 am, where we were seated at a small table (with table cloth & small vase of flowers) along with big cushy armchairs.  as the train left cusco, we passed all sorts of sites, including a strange area where people seemed to have a large variety of wooden furniture for sale set up right next to the tracks.  (wooden furniture row?)

soon it was announced that there would be a "fashion show" in the last car.  ooooh, fashion show!  the front half of the car was a bar, with more cushy armchairs, and the back half of the car was all windows with a long bench where you can sit and get a 360 degree view of the scenery.  nice!  so we planted ourselves in the back by the windows and watched while the "models" showed off a variety of scarves and peruvian style knit hats and gloves.  i guess when you're in cold mountain towns this is what high fashion is.

there was some debate between the bolshevik and i as to the level of professionalism of these models.  for instance, are they really models at all?  or maybe they are just a collection of the more attractive Peru Rail employees who usually answer the phones but on certain days they get to ride the "fashion train?"  i then pondered the possibilities of becoming a "train model" myself.  surely i can meet their standards of excellence, no?

after the fashion show, we were entertained with live peruvian music.  i tell you, i love live peruvian music.  it's quite common to see performances in the fancier restaurants: men in ponchos with guitars and drums and all sizes of pan pipes.  one time i went to dinner without the bolshevik and of course i wound up buying a CD of one of the local bands performing.  i am a sucker that way.

anyhoo, nonstop fun on this train!  at one point we made a little stop at a small mountain town where locals tried to sell us handicrafts.  the bolshevik and i were distracted by a large field of llamas.

we went over to take pictures, and soon a little local boy came up to us and said, "you give me a dollar?"  now, this kid has a lot to learn from the merchant children of cusco.  did he have any finger puppets?  no.  did he liken me to any celebrities or first ladies?  no.  sorry kid, i'm not just giving out money for kicks here! 

back on the train we were served lunch, which included a soup, entree, glass of wine, and a small torte for dessert.

as the day went on there was a second round of peruvian music.  we watched as we passed by mountains and rivers and other majestic nature.  in the late afternoon we were served tea and little finger sandwiches with the crusts cut off.  all of this was included in the price of our ticket, which although expensive by peruvian standards, was probably of a similar cost to an 8-hour train ride on amtrak.

this leads me to wonder about the suck-fest which is amtrak:  why is amtrak so expensive when there are never any llamas included? ponder that dear blog readers, ponder that.

random things about peru: a row of one's own

in peru they seem to organize their business so that similar businesses are all on the same street.  sure they have this to some extent in new york city: the garment district, wall street, the canal street "crap district," that block on bowery that sells all the lighting fixtures, etc.  but i have never seen anything quite to the extent that i have seen it in peru.

we saw puppy row, which of course had been my favorite.  how can you not like walking around and seeing peddlers selling puppies?  there was also shoe shine row, home repair row, wooden home furnishings row, medical office supply row (then another block with stores selling only dentist chairs).  we have seen mattress row, with numerous mattresses and bed frames for sale.  christian relic row, where you can get all your fancy candles and statues of jesus.  cheap hole-in-the-wall eateries row,  etc, etc.  i guess it makes shopping easier, knowing that if you want to get the best price on frankincense all you have to do is look around on this one block.

but then.  oh then, dear blog readers, then we stumbled upon something very intriguing .... Cake Slice Row.  on ONE BLOCK in cusco there were easily 7 to 10 different bakeries, several of them next door to each other (as the blocks are not very long).  these bakeries not only sold seemingly identical cakes, but also offered the option to buy cake by the slice for take-away.  this is a brilliant concept. 

there were typically 5 or 6 varieties of "to-go" cakes, : apple, chocolate, vanilla, black forest, strawberry, some things we couldn't recognize, etc.  you point to a cake (typically a long "log shaped" cake for easy slicing) and for the equivalent of 50 cents, they sliced off a big hunk-o-cake for you and wrapped it in waxed paper for you to eat while strolling the city streets.  genius.

this is especially useful if you've had a rough day.  for instance, maybe you trekked all the way out of town in hopes of getting a yellow fever vaccination so that you will be allowed to cross the border into bolivia, and then you find out that the clinic you were looking for isn't there because your guidebook wasn't as updated as you thought.  these are the days when we need a slice of yellow cake with dulce de leche frosting for the long defeated walk back into town.  (and we did eventually get our vaccinations, so we will not be spreading the amarillo fiebre around)

oooh, i need a sexy woman. oooh, i need a dirty girl.

get your mind out of the gutter, dear blog readers! i'm talking about serious inca history here!

before we went on our 4-day trek on the inca trail, we did a little practice hike to a nearby archeological site called sacsayhuaman.  pronounced properly, it sounds like saxy whoa-man. pronounced like a dumb tourist, it sounds like sexy woman. get it?  don't be that guy, dear blog readers.  don't be that guy.

anyway,  sacsayhuaman is located right outside of town, on a nearby mountaintop, and consists of several different sites a few km away from each other.  although we were walking through the city to get there, we were actually "hiking" up very steep streets for a mile or so until we reached a church at the half-way point.  from this point we had quite the view of the city.  then we had another mile or so uphill, and of course some serious stone steps (why are the incas so obsessed with steps?)

up at the site a man who i thought was an official ticket taker convinced me that we should rent horses.  si, caballos!  there was some grumbling from the bolshevik about this one, as he wanted to walk the whole thing ourselves.  but i insisted that we wouldn't make it to all the different sites without horses.

now, it turns out that if you are on foot you have to walk mostly on the sides of streets and highways to get to the various different sites.  however, when travelling por caballo you are not allowed on the streets and highways, and you actually have to go through mountain passes in order to reach the different sites.  it was kind of like stepping into one of those old school marlborough ads from the magazines.  it was breath-taking.  slighty terrifying at times, since i'd never actually been on a horse through steep rocky terrain and was suddenly envisioning all sorts of christopher reeve scenarios, but breath-taking none-the-less.

and of course dear blog readers, there were llamas!  cute little baby llamas!  roaming around on mountain-sides!

the blog of bad pants

there is a plague that is sweeping the city of cusco, and that plague is bad pants.  bad bad pants.  now, don't get me wrong blog readers, it's not los peruanos that are wearing the bad pants.  in fact, i feel that the people of peru are a very nicely dressed people: nothing too flashy, keeping it respectable.  sometimes you'll see women in traditional peruvian costume, typically while holding a baby llama and asking you if you want to pay to have your picture taken with them, but it is the gringos who are wearing the bad pants, and the gringos alone.

i have made it my mission to capture these pants on film whenever i encounter them.  for you, dear blog readers, for you.  because i am that devoted.

the pants in question are a multi-colored sort of hippie granola-crunching pajama pant mash-up.  this has lead the bolshevik and i to ask the question, "why do people who supposedly love nature and the outdoors choose to dress so poorly?"

now, we have "hiking clothes," which are useful clothes made out of breathable quick dry materials for use while hiking in the mountains.  they aren't the most fashionable things: khaki colored pants with many pockets, solid colored sporty looking tops, but there is a functionality there.  however, these bad pants seem to serve no purpose.  maybe they are comfortable?  i mean, they look comfortable to sleep in. but i wouldn't be caught dead wearing them in public.  i'd rather be wearing my gym clothes in public, at least people would think that i am a motivated active person, as opposed to a slovenly bum.

(please note that in the photo at left, these two guys were traveling together, wearing identical bad pants.  this is a double faux pas.  one time in the same area i saw a guy in the bad pants with a matching shirt.  he looked like he had escaped from some sort of hippie prison/commune.  sadly i didn't have my camera to capture that one)

now, these pants are for sale at many of the little tourist shops in peru.  i've seen miles and miles of boldly colored pants for sale.  this leads me to a "chicken vs. egg" type question.  do gringos wear the pants because peruvians are selling them, and the gringos think it is traditional peruvian garb?  OR, have gringos brought their own ugly pants to peru, thinking that in mountain towns you must dress like a fool.  and then the peruvians caught on, seeing a potential tourist market, and began selling them here, along with the typical trinkets and jewelry?

either way i hope the peruvians are having a good laugh, (and making some good money) selling ugly pants to gringos, that they themselves would never wear.

llama llama

here in cusco there is a huge beautiful plaza in the center of the city called plaza de armas.  it is truly truly gorgeous, and even though i've been there several times now, i still feel my spirit lifted every time i go there.  with that said, there is a downside to plaza de armas.  tourists.  who me?  yes me.  due to the overwhelming number of tourists in the plaza, you cannot walk through without being accosted by people trying to sell you jewelry, drag you into their restaurant, get you to buy a massage, etc etc.  i'd say in the time it takes to cross the plaza, you'd be getting off pretty easy if only three or four people ask you to buy something or partake in their services.

but sometimes i just can't resist.  the other day a little girl was selling these finger puppets and when i saw that there was a llama finger puppet i just had to buy it.  i am a sucker for odd animals portrayed in toys (i have bought my niece an emu beanie baby and a coatimundi stuffed animal)

the llama only cost a sole, which is a little less that 30 cents.  so no skin off my back, really.  but when the bolshevik questioned what i would possibly do with a llama finger puppet (aside from compose this lovely photo which itself is already worth more than 30 cents) i explained that when we go to lake titicaca (he he he) we are supposed to bring little toys for the children.  see, i am weeks ahead of the game!  i have a little toy for a child!

but then, later in the week another small child asked me to buy a finger puppet, and i had to put my foot down.  i mean, i can't buy finger puppets from everyone.  it went something like this:

boy: hey lady!  want to buy a finger puppet?

me: [waving him away] no gracias.

boy: [jogging after me] why no?  buy a finger puppet!

me: [quickening my pace] no gracias.  i already have one.

boy: [still following along my side] why no?  you have ten fingers and ten toes.  why no buy more?

me: [at a loss for words at such fine logic]

and then dear blog readers, just before i was about to break down and buy another finger puppet, the boy stopped dead in his tracks as though he had run into a force field.  i've actually seen this happen with other child vendors, and then i realized something.  we had reached a corner and he was not allowed to cross the street.  but it does seem likely that by the time i leave cusco i may have a puppet for each finger, and maybe even a few toes.

the mysterious "belgian" woman part 2 OR meeting people is easy

for reasons i cannot disclose at this time (please read: the bolshevik asked me to "hold off" on it), i was on my own yesterday afternoon.  so after writing for several hours, and then watching the most recent episode of america's next top model (it took forEVER to download), i decided to visit the shop of the "belgian" woman's ex-husband.

i entered the shop and it was more or less what i thought it would be: silver jewelry with large stones, flowy shapeless hippie dresses, incense, bongo drums, you know the drill.  i began looking around all inconspicuous-like, and the handsome peruvian behind the counter said, "anything you like you can try on: jewely, clothes. you try whatever you like."  then he hopped off his stool with a little swagger and said "you can try me if you like."

yeah, this is our guy.

i politely thanked him and told him i was just looking around.  as i perused the store's wares i realized i had no game plan.  nada.  and really, at the end of the day i am the kind of person who loathes talking to strangers.  i do not start up conversations with people i don't know.  i do not ask people questions about themselves unless it is part of social banter at a bar or party.  i believe i have inherited this from my mother, who throughout my life has refused to befriend any of her neighbors.

anyway.  i was about to leave this shop with my tail between my legs, having not found out any useful information for you, my beloved blog readers.  but then as i was walking out the door, the young peruvian asked me my name.  now, i hate telling strangers my name.  maybe Stranger Danger sunk in all too well with me, but i feel like if you tell someone your name, then suddenly they're going to scam you.  but then i remembered the task at hand.

i told him my name and he jumped up from his stool and hugged me, giving me a peck on the cheek.  well, i didn't see that one coming.

mucho gusto! he said, and then he told me his name is marco (names have been changed to protect the innocent).  he asked me where i am from, and i fought every unfriendly bone in my body and told him i'm from new york.  then he jumped up again.  "i love new york!" he said, and gave me another hug.  "i love the movies!"

so we had a little chat about new york.  it turns out he has never been, but he loves the tall buildings he's seen in films.  then he asked me if i'd like to have a cup of tea.  he pointed to the counter where there are mugs and tea bags and such.  "it's on me," he said.  "sit and have some tea."

again, it is against my every instinct to have tea with him, but then i remembered i am a super sleuth travel writer now, and i must do this for the greater good.

i asked him if he had coca tea, which i have grown quite fond of, and he proudly showed me that he makes his coca tea with real coca leaves, and not with teabags.

soon enough we were drinking our tea and having a nice little chat.  he asked me if i had a boyfriend, and i explained yes i do in fact have a boyfriend, but he is not with me today.  then marco said that he is an "iron man" and that if i were to switch over to him, i would be much better off.  i thanked him, but stood firm that i was sticking with the bolshevik.

then he began to tell me about an ex-girlfriend of his.  of course, i was reeling at this point.  here i was having tea with the ex-husband of the mysterious "belgian" woman and he was about to give up all sorts of information.

marco: i have this girlfriend.  no.  how do you say you have, but no more?

me:  had

marco:  si, had.  i had a girlfriend once from .... oh what was the name ... cincinnati

me:  [damned!] oh really?  do you only like american girls?

marco:  no, i date all women!  i do not care where they are from, or if they have blonde hair and blue eyes.  i like them for their minds and who they are.

me: [starting to think this guy isn't so bad] what happened with her?

marco: well, she went back to the US and she called me only once.  she said she would call me every day.  but she never called again.

he went on to explain that she was a medical student and that she told him she was too busy to call him.  then he said that he saw a picture of her in her medical lab coat on facebook and he wondered, "how come she has time to download pictures, but not call me?" he said, "now, i do not trust girls who live far away.  i don't believe what you say if you live far away.  but if you are here with me, then i trust you."

awwww.  poor marco.

then i asked him where he was from, thinking that i didn't want to dwell on the hearbreak of cincinnati girl.  "i am a child of the universe!" he exclaimed.  and suddenly i could really see him and the mysterious "belgian" woman hitting it off.

"but really," he said, "i am from lima.  i have been in cusco for two years."

marco then told me how when he lived in lima, he worked at the mcdonald's in miraflores as a deliveryman.  i found this very interesting, and i explained to him that in the US mcdonalds doesn't deliver.  he was quite taken aback by that.  he told me that he had a little motorcycle with a mcdonalds basket in front and he would ride around the city doing deliveries, and then he would take breaks by the beach and smoke joints. 

then we went on to discuss cusco, and i said i thought it was very beautiful.  he agreed and said, "cusco has taught me many great things.  i have met great people.  and learned how to be a great person."

wow.  at this point i was starting to think that maybe this wasn't the guy.  because, eccentricities aside, he was actually turning out to be a pretty decent stand-up guy.

i asked him if he owned the shop, and he said no, he only worked there.  around this time some other customers came in and they began speaking in spanish.  now, eavesdropping in spanish isn't easy but i didn't my best.

the two people came in and told marco that they were from sweden.  now this raised a bit of a flag because the "belgian" woman is from sweden.  then marco pointed to a large merchant's license mounted on the wall and said the wife of the shop owner was from sweden.  aha!

i took a good look at the picture on the license.  the man pictured was a large tough-looking rastafarian guy.  hmmm, not what i had expected for the "belgian" woman's husband.

after the swedes left, i asked marco where the shop owner was.  "oh, he's probably home smoking joints," he said.  nice.

marco told me how much he loves working in a shop and talking with people.  i concurred that he is very friendly, and it had been lovely chatting with him.  then, seeing that there was no more investigating to be done, and feeling that i did not want to take up any more of marco's time, i decided to head out.  marco hugged me a third time, and asked me to please stop in again before i left. 

so what have we learned about the mysterious "belgian" woman?  absolutely nothing.

exploding toiletries

it seems as though being up at this altitude, and having 40% less oxygen than normal, has strange effects on many things.  first off, the bolshevik and i seem to get tuckered out pretty quickly.  usually we have lots of get-up-and-go, but after walking up hill for about 30 seconds, we get rather tired.  and this tiredness hits really quickly, like as though one minute you're fine and then the next minute you're kind of tipsy and goofy.  but we were prepared for this and have been drinking lots of water and partaking in the coca candy (we found a toffee version!  so yummy!), and i feel like we are almost back to normal now.

but one thing we did not expect was the effect that this altitude would have on our toiletries.  the first day we had walked around for a while, and we decided to take a break in the shade so that the bolshevik could put on sunblock.  he is a pale one, you know.  i was minding my own business when all of a sudden i hear the bolshevik mutter a stream of curse words, and then i notice a suspicious white liquid had splattered all over my sneaker as well as all over the ground.  my first thought was that a large pre-incan bird had shat on us.  but then i look over to the bolshevik and see that his sunblock was errupting on us, much in the style of a school science fair volcano.

now, i have seen this happen to stuff when you take it on a plane and then it somehow has to depressurize or something.  but this is way worse, there's a serious amount of force involved.  we do not exactly understand the science behind the phenomenon, but every time i open one of my toiletries for the first time i forget to point it away from me, and this happens all over again.  so far i have errupted sun block, shampoo, and facial moisurizer on myself.  we cannot help but wonder why there are no warning about this in our guidebooks.

cocaine, breakfast of champions

ok, not really.  but since our arrival in cusco i have been enjoying the coco te, tea made from cocaine leaves.  apparently it is supposed to help alleviate symptoms of altitude sickness.  it sort of tastes like a mild green tea mixed with freshly cut grass.  it's not half bad. 

we have also been sampling some of the coca candy.  it's a sticky sort of sucking candy, that tastes like a really sweet raisin with a hint of caramel.

i have no idea how effective these things are.  maybe it's all a scam.   but day 2 in the mountains and so far we are feeling fine.

off to work on the great american novel ...

shhhh . . . we're resting

in typical south american fashion, we have been welcomed into cusco with a parade.  this one had less fanfare than our welcome to lima parade, but it did involve a couple of men in monkey suits, so how can we complain?

one of the big things about cusco is that it is at an extremely high elevation, and land-loving gringos like ourselves often get altitide sickness, or soroche.  so in order to fight off a potential soroche outbreak (does one have an outbreak of soroche? an onslaught perhaps?)  we are taking it easy.  we have been told not to exert ourselves or do anything strenuous. we played cards, ate lunch, had a quick stroll about town, and now we're back in the room .... resting ... as advised ... it's a little boring.