El Campo y la Quisinera

It´s been an interesting ride so far. I´ve been here for about a week now, and although I have yet to settle into a routine, I´ve become pretty comfortable. I`ve had a few adventures on my mountain bike, but I haven`t actually gotten to do any mountain biking. Most of it has been road biking. I did also have to fix a flat tire today. That was a good experience in learning how to get around Huancayo. It took me an hour to find a tire repair kit, but it worked like magic. Way better than the kits I have bought at home. The bike is a really good way to see the countryside. I get to see all these little small towns and farms that would be hidden if I just stayed in the city. Next adventure is off to the mountains.




I have had some interesting experiences in town though. The first involved going out to a Quinsinera. When a girl turns fifteen in a Latin American country, it´s a big deal. The parents rent out a hotel or something and have a huge extravagant party for the lucky girl. I don´t know what it signifies, but I have a hunch that it´s supposed to be something along the lines that the girl is now ready to be married. Anyway, I was invited by a family member of my teacher and since I really have nothing better to do, I said yes. I knew there were going to be a lot of youngsters there, but I thought there were going to be more people my age who had been invited. As my friends used to say in high school...stupid Joel.

Well, we got there and proceeded to enter. I was the only person who was wearing street clothes. Everyone else was 15 and wearing a suit. I usually stick out wherever I go because I`m tall (5`9 is tall here), I`m white, and I have a beard. So my situation was only complicated by the fact that I also wasn`t wearing a suit. Most people gave me the "What the heck are you doing here" look. I get that a lot.

Anyway, I sat there surrounded by youngsters for about an hour before the thing actually got started. The lights turned off and Lord of the Rings style music came on. A red carpet was rolled down some stairs and 15 year old girls started descending in white dresses. I couldn`t figure out what the announcer was saying and also couldn`t figure out what was happening. Finally, some spotlights came on, the music changed and another 15 year-old descended in a pink dress. Guess this was the one. She came down and all the lights came back on and she danced with her father, her brother, her uncles, her grandfathers...basically a lot of older men. I felt kinda bad for her actually. All her friends had gone upstairs to dance and she was stuck down there dancing with her family. She had a pained look on her face.

We eventually went upstairs too and then the party really got started. For anyone who has never heard Reaggaton, it`s basically Latin hip-hop. It has a good beat at first, and some catchy hooks, but after about two songs, your mind is pretty tired of being constantly pounded by the same beat. It`s kinda like being beaten with a wooden bat by Vanilla Ice. I was hoping it was going to be like the latin nights I had been to back in Boulder. A mix of salsa, merengue, and reaggaton. I was sorely disappointed. They love their Reaggaton here.

Overall, it was a good cultural experience that I wouldn`t want to repeat in a million years. The second experience was getting to wash all my clothes by hand. I don`t really have that much, but when you have to wash it all by hand...it gives you new appreciation for washing machines. This amount of clothing took me about an hour and a half. Sometimes we don`t know how fortuante we really are.

Huancayo

I apologize to all ten people who are reading this. I wrote this when I first arrived here and I have been trying to upload the pictures that go along with it for the last week. I have so far been unsuccessful, so I am going to give up for now and just post entries without the pictures and then I will add the pictures when I get the chance.

Nestled in the center of the Montaro Valley, sits the city of Huancayo. At more than 9,000 ft. it`s a little tiring to walk around up here. The city itself contains about 100,000 people and has everything that a typical hispanic city usually has. It has a parque central with fountains and pigeons. It has cement buildings and whitewashed walls with advertisements all over the place. It has dirt roads with cows and chickens and dogs wandering down them and it has the feel of place where people actually live and not where tourists typically go to visit. Sucks for the tourists.



This place is beautiful. There are verdant, green mountains surrounding the city. They overflow with produce and trails for hiking. If you look to the north, you can see the glaciers just peaking out over the top of the mountains. The valley is chock full of mountain biking routes, paragliding sites, hiking trails, camping places, rafting, kayaking, and other outdoor fun. Huancayo is famous for the surrounding villages that apparently produce some of the best crafts in Peru. I haven´t seen them first-hand, but I`ll be taking my moutain bike out tomorrow. The people are really kind and everyone I`ve talked to has been really helpful. Best part about the place is that there are no tourists. I`m probably one of only a handful of gringos here. It`s perfect.

I arrived after the horrific bus ride, and stayed at the recommended hostel. The hostal was nice, but I felt a lot of pressure to join one of their programs. The owner of the hostal is trying to turn Huancayo into a tourist destination, and I wish him the best of luck, but I`m not here to be a tourist, per se. It had some really cool parts like very comfortable beds and a parrot that squaked "Hola" when you came near it.




I spent the majority of the first day exploring the city and then meeting up with my teacher. This has turned out to be a great deal. I finally found her apartment after much searching (the streets here don`t have street signs) and she introduced me to her son. He`s the cutest little Peruvian boy. His name is Barclay and he`s just learning how to walk and talk. The apartment was nice and I was excited to move in. I spent that first night in the hostal and then moved out the second day.





Moving out was a little interesting. My teacher`s house is about 3 miles away from the hostal and although I knew the general direction, I had no idea where I was going. So I took my small backpack and just started riding. After coming close to getting hit by a microbus, I decided to find the backroads and proceeded to become hopelessly lost. Luckily, everyone I asked was very kind, and although I couldn`t understand a word they said, pointing works wonders. I eventually found the house after riding about a mile out of town and back. I dropped off my bag, headed back for my bigger backpack. This was a much more interesting trip. The backpack was pretty unstable on the roads and I looked like a complete fool. I passed a school and I could hear a wave of laughter follow me down the road. I did make much better time, and now I was all moved in.

We had lunch at my teacher`s mom`s house. This was a great and humbling experience. This is really the first time I have gotten to see how a Peruvian family actually lives. When I was in Guatemala, I was a little sheltered by a house the catered exclusively to tourists. It was more like a bed and breakfast than a family stay. This is an actual family stay. They are very poor and barely have enough room for all the sisters and their kids. But the kids run around happily and everyone is kind and boisterous and the food was delicious.

My first lesson was today and I`d forgotten how hard it is to concentrate for that long. My mind is very tired, but I can already feel myself becoming more comfortable with Spanish. Questions and phrases that I knew in Guatemala fly off my lips much more easily now. I still can`t understand, but that will come with time. Right now, I`m off to study some more and sleep early so I can get up and go mountain biking tommorrow.

Worst Bus Ride....EVER

I woke up on Monday morning with blinding stomach pain. I hobbled into the bathroom and attempted a shower. Montezuma has finally come for me. Luckily, I was able to sleep for four more hours and I felt a ton better. Unfortunately, I was also trying to get to my ultimate destination of Huancayo that day and I had booked a bus ride for Monday night. I rested for most of the day and then I took a taxi to the bus station.

The taxi station was hustling with gringos and Peruvians alike, all trying to get to their destination. Seemed like most Gringos were going to Huaraz. Glad I´m not headed there. I was pretty tired at this point, but I had to stay on alert. It´s always nerve-wracking when you´re carrying everything you need to survive in a country with you. I also had my brand-new, spiffy bike just asking to be stolen. So I sat there in the bus station until the absolute last second when I didn´t realize my bus was bording and I had to basically throw my bike and all my crap at the attendents so they could get it on. I thought that was it for sure, that I would never see my bike again.

I found my seat next to a very plump Peruvian woman who almost overflowed the armrest into my seat. I settled in and promptly fell asleep. I woke up to alarm bells ringing in my head. Oh crap, he´s back. Montezuma wanted to go another round. I quickly rushed to the bathroom only to find it occupied. I stood there hopping from foot to foot and squeezing hard. It seemed like an eternity before the person came out. Ahh, relief. But, oh no. He wasn´t done. My immune system has decided to mount an attack against Montezuma. Montezuma didn´t like that very much and I proceeded to go through six hours of chills and fevers as the two factions warred inside my body. No matter what I did, I couldn´t fall back asleep. It was quite possibly the longest six hours of my life. I´m going to mountain bike back to Lima.

There is another part of the story that is even worse, but it´s not appropriate for the little eyes of my cousin´s fifth grade class who might actually be reading this. E-mail me if you want to hear the rest of the story.

I did finally make it to Huancayo and proceeded to sleep for the rest of the day. I love the city though. I´ll make another entry about Huancayo soon. Lecciones de Castillano start tommorrow. Hasta Luego

Paragliding

The videos explain themselves

En Lima (Parte II)

I left off at my stroll along the shore and the paragliders. I watched Marcos fly around for a bit and then I decided that I was going to go get some money and try it that afternoon. I was also on a mission today to look at bikes and find a nalgene bottle. Accomplished the first and failed the second.

I´ve discovered that the best way to get to know where you´re going in a new city is to just get lost. It starts with walking. You start walking in the general direction that you want to go and continue to walk until you get there. You will start to see landmarks and after half a day of walking, you know that little area you´re in semi-well. After that, it´s on to the microbusses. Just hop on one in the general direction you want to go and get lost. I have ended up miles away from where I was trying to go, but then you just hop on one going the other direction and get back to where you know. Using this, I now know the neighborhoods of Miraflores and Barranco pretty well. On Monday, I will branch out and try to find the other bike shops and my stinking water bottle.

My second day in Lima consisted of recovering from the night before. I went to a local club with all the people from my hostal and we danced until about 5am. I was surprised to learn that almost nobody knew how to salsa or merengue here. They would play the songs and few people would dance, but most people just swayed to the beat. It was a little odd. I also got the chance to play some soccer. I wasn´t the all-star by any means but I didn´t embarass myself and I did manage to score a goal. The night consisted of more recovery time.

The fog has rolled into Lima and I´m gearing up to head out. Next stop...Huancayo.

En Lima

Estoy Aqui

I can smell the odor of dirty car exhaust as our cab careens through the streets. We dodge in and out of traffic, running red lights, stop signs, and basically ignoring all rules of common traffic coutesy. All the while my cab driver is chatting amiably about volunteer programs in Huancayo. I had forgotten what it´s like to drive in Latin America. In spite of myself, a grin splits my face. It´s good to be back.

I arrived in Lima two days ago. I spent a day in Atlanta visiting Eric and Gehres. We played video games, ate pizza for dinner, chicken for breakfast, and climbed the highest mountain near Atlanta. Stone Mountain is a large rock that "towers" 800 ft over Atlanta. We climbed it in only our sandals and jeans, and I thought it was hilarious that there was a tram to the top. American´s laziness will never cease to amaze me.

















After much too short a visit, Gehres kindly took Eric and I to the Airport. We hung out and ate chinese food, which I thought was a little ironic that Chinese should be the last thing I eat in the US. My name was called right as I walked up to gate and I pìcked up my first-class ticket to Lima (thank you Uncle Bob). After an uneventful flight, I hopped off the plane, cruised through customs, unsuccessfully tried to call a cab, got one anyway, and got to my hostel without a problem.

The first night was marked by gigantic bug bites and fitfull sleep. My first day in Lima started with me stolling about a mile and a half to the shore. Another smile creased my face as I saw the microbusses rushing by with their ayudantes shouting for customers. It was quickly wiped off my face as I was almost ran over by one.

The shore here is one of the most lovely sights I have ever seen. The city crawls right up to the edge of some loose sea cliffs. The skyline towers over the beach and you can walk along the top of the cliffs and look down at the surfers below. I was on a specific mission that day. I was looking for the famous paragliding site that I had seen so many times online and that I had been told about. It was easy to find and the man that I was looking for showed up right as I got there. I was told to find a man named Marcos and he was there just getting his wing set up. I had to admit that it was the nicest flying site I had ever seen. The wind came strong and steady up the cliff face and all he had to do was basically get the wing up and stable and then just walk off the cliff. The lift was so perfect that he could´ve just hovered there two feet above the ground for hours and hours








(To Be Continued....voy a jugar futbol)

Skydiving

The list. Everyone has one. For some it is very short and consists of things like: “seeing Rome,” or “learning to play the guitar.” For others it is long and extensive. Mine is the latter and I can check one more thing off that extensive list today.

I went out our local airport to try my luck at powered paragliding again. It’s been almost a year since I bought the expensive set up that was supposed to get me in the air during med school. Although I have managed to get the thing into the air without power, I have yet to accomplish that same feat with the motor on my back. Sounds strange, I know. The launch is the most difficult part as it requires the pilot to turn a pile of neon nylon into a flying wing that will support his weight. It doesn’t want to do this without a lot of resistance. I worked all the cobwebs out of my system born from a long winter inside, and prepped my motor for flight. I was almost ready to go when the wind picked up and I was forced to abandon another attempt at a launch into the wild blue yonder.

The whole time I am doing all of my failing, I am watching the skydivers parachute into their drop zone. I hear the faintly jet-like sound of the heavy bodies plummeting through the air and look up just in time to see a neon bloom against a bright blue background. They swoop gracefully (and not so gracefully) down into the grass and load up on the truck to be carted back for another run.

I’m tired of this crap. I’ve been watching this same scene for almost a year. It’s time for me to go skydiving. I throw my useless rig in my car and take off for the crowed hangars that mark the offices of Mile High Skydiving. My paragliding instructor has decided to join me and I curiously wander around the hangers jammed with people packing their parachutes. My instructor takes time to answer my questions about his rig, and then it’s time to load up and head out.

I am thrown into a bright purple jumpsuit, strapped into a beefy harness, handed some gloves and goggles, and herded onto the truck. I watch the beautiful, twin engine Otter taxi to the waiting area. The pilot doesn’t look much older than me. We cram into the cargo space like sardines, close the door and off we go. My photographer was asking me interview-esque questions about what was going on. I felt like I was on the evening news.
We get up to about 10000 ft and the door opens. An older gentlemen is ready to go and I watch apprehensively as he drops away from the plane. Umm, that was crazy. My camera guy flips the camera back on and I make a few more nervous quips and we continue to climb. I have to say that I’m impressed with the Twin Otters engines. All they do is climb all day with a heavy load and then descend and do it again. Those are some tough engines. We get up to about 15000 ft and things start to happen. I am locked into my instructor by the back of my harness. He cinches everything down. It feels good to be securely attached to someone who knows how to save my life. People start shuffling inside the sardine can, and I gather my courage.

The light turns green, the door opens and the crazy people jump out of the airplane. The first to go was a group of guys who were apparently doing some kind of arial formation jumping. They all fell away from the plane at the same time. The next few moments were a blur as the rest of the people ahead of us jumped out. I was concentrating on staying out of my instructor’s way as he hauled me toward the door. I guess he felt like I was resisting him because he told me to relax. Kinda hard to relax when you’re inexorably moving toward an open door almost 12,000 ft above the ground. I tried anyway, and as we got to the door and I was hanging out of the airplane an amazing thing happened, all my fear disappeared. I looked down at the ground, realized that I was going out of this plane whether I liked it or not, and resigned myself to it.

My instructor rocked once, twice and we were falling. Arch my back, and pull my legs up, wait for the tap that indicates when I can release my arms. The tap comes and I put my arms into the slipstream and release my vocal chords. I open my mouth to yell and air is crammed into it and forced down my throat. The cameraman is flying on his back in front of me and I make a few faces and yell like an idiot. I was given a sage piece of advice before I went. My instructor said to take a deep breath and look around at the mountains, don’t just stare at the ground. About halfway into it, that’s exactly what I did. I looked up at the mountains and the ride slowed down. It didn’t really feel like I was falling so much as I was floating. Air was rushing past, but I was suspended thousands of feet above the ground.

I feel another tap and my instructor tries to yell something at me. He didn’t give me any instructions for what to do on the second tap. I wasn’t really worried, and I started to anticipate the release of the parachute. I was expecting something hard and jolting, but the release was smooth and my legs whipped around in front of me.

The rest of the ride was uneventful except for a spiral during the descent. The flight down was fun, but too short. The landing was smooth. He told me to pull my feet up and that we were landing on our butts. The cameraman interviewed me again on the ground, I filled the camera with platitudes and all of a sudden, it was over.

Overall, I would describe the experience as “smooth.” I was expecting it to be jolting and the ride through the atmosphere to be a little rougher, but everything went very smoothly. If I had thousands of dollars in spare change lying around, I might consider doing the full certification course so I could jump by myself, but it was too short an experience to spend thousands of dollars doing. I’m glad I did it and I can check it off my list. Now it’s on to:
“become fluent in Spanish.”

Into the Mountains

Got up at 6 am, threw all my borrowed gear and food into some bags, got the requisite info, and barreled out the door on my way to the mountains. Met my girl
and accompanying friend in the Stegosaurus lot. Tossed all the crap into the back of the CRV and we were on our way for a last minute Colorado hut trip.

It wasn't entirely last minute. We had actually talked about doing this a week or two before the fateful day, but, true to form, I waited until the last possible second to plan or do anything. I think my roomate is starting to wear off on me. In my defense, we did have most things planned by Sunday night and I was scrambling to get Katie all the gear she would need in order to venture into the mountains. It's a testament to how cool my friends are that I was able to obtain everything I could possibly need for backcountry skiing in a two hour period on a Sunday night (thanks Colleen and Betsy).

We did have to get the hut reservations on the way up to the mountains. I had looked at the availability over the weekend and it looked like we had plenty of options. I settled on either Janet's Hut or the Shrine mountain in because they would be relatively easy hikes in for Katie. Ole dug out his cell phone as we left Denver, called up 10th Mountain, and got us a reservation at Janet's Hut.

We still had to get the printout for the cabin code and to show Copper mountain that we were headed to Janet's. So we stopped at the Frisco information service. They have free internet for travelers. While Ole got the printout, Katie and I wandered over to a coffee shop and injected caffeine into our veins. If anyone's interested, the little coffee shop across from the information place is hiring for the summer. Frisco would be a fun town. We got the code, got the caffeine and it was off to Copper.

Copper is very generous to people traveling to Janet's Hut. If you can provide proof that you have a reservation, then they will provide you with a lift ticket that will take you to the trailhead. We thought about taking the high route first. This would involve traversing mountain ridges above treeline and then skiing down to the hut. After examining the winds on the ridge, we opted for the low route which ascends Guller Creek to the cabin.



One thing I have learned about Backcountry skiing is that it doesn't work very well on a snowboard. Little bumps that Ole and I were able to walk over on our skis, Katie would have to stop, unstrap and then strap back in again. Snowboarding is great on backcountry powder as you can just glide over patches of snow that skiers will sink into, but getting to and from that snow is a bitch. Despite the difficulties, I was very proud of my girlfriend. She suffered through blisters, wind, cold, altitude, and really bad jokes without complaining once. She's now a ski (snowboard) mountaineer.




The hike up was fine. It wasn't very long and we could see the cabin from a long ways out. The last 300 yards up to the cabin was pretty hellacious. When we got there, Katie took a nap and Ole and I took off to do some skiing before the sun set. We hiked up to this interesting sandstone rock formation and that lead us up a bench to ski down. Take off the skins, urinate, set up the goggles and take off down the slope. No avalanche danger here. The snow was a little crusty and I'm still getting used to the telemark skis, but there was really soft snow the last few hundred yards to the hut and we were laughing the whole way there. Picked up Katie, hiked up again to the ridge to admire the view and then skied back to the hut. Katie was awesome for her first backcountry snowboarding session.



The stay at the hut was interesting. There was food waiting for us as some folk had cooked too much burrito trappings and needed to get rid of it. The spaghetti stayed safely stowed in my bag and we feasted on burritos. We played a few games, chatted about politics, current events and other miscellaneous news that backcountry travelers talk about. There were some interesting groups. The people who fed us were from the midwest and actually included a fresh ER doc that I chatted with about medical school and other nonsense. The full moon came out, illuminating the snowy landscape, and it was off to bed for a horrible night of sleep.

The next day, we woke leisurely and had some breakfast. We took off to climb the 12,000 ft peak that was behind the hut.
Again, Katie was a trooper as she plodded up from the hut in her snowshoes. We celebrated Katie's first mountain climb, and then skied down a ridge to an untracked bowl of slightly crusty snow. After etching perfect turns into the bowl, we went to the hut gathered our stuff and started the long trek out. We did get another good run before heading out. The ski out from Copper was a little eerie because there was nobody there when we popped back out. Needless to say, we were a little tired when were done.




Awesome hut trip overall. Not so awesome getting home and busting a tire and having to teach in Ft. Collins the next day. But that's an entirely different story.

The Start

Hey everyone,
Welcome to my Peru trip. If you have found this then it's likely that I'm comfortable sharing the most intimate details of my life with you. Fortunately, that's not what this blog is going to be about...because nobody wants to hear that. It's going to be a documentary about the places I visit, the Spanish I learn, and the people I meet. Should be an interesting journey.

For those of you who haven't seen me in a while, and for those who don't really know me at all, here's a little update on what's been going on in my life recently. I am quitting the chemistry job that I have held for a little over a year now and saying goodbye to Boulder. I've spent the last year and a half working and saving money for this trip. I've been playing a lot of ultimate frisbee, learning how to salsa dance, skiing, mountain biking and hanging out with all the wonderful people who I know here. I've had a great time here for the last year and a half, but it's time to move on. I got an acceptance from Loyola medical school in Chicago and that's where I'll be moving after the Peru trip. I know I'll miss Colorado a ton, but Chicago should be awesome.

Hopefully, if everything works out with my apartment, moving, and getting all my stuff ready for my trip, I'll be leaving for Peru near the end of next week. I'm not going to plan too much right now, but I'm hoping to spend a few days in Atlanta hanging out with friends and then I'm off to Lima, Peru. I'm going to spend the rest of the summer in Peru studying Spanish and traveling around until I have to be back in Chicago in the middle of July. That's the plan right now. Stay tuned for more updates.