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This page is for friends and family wanting to keep track of our eldest son, Christopher, who has recently left on his second trip to South America. He bikes, hikes, climbs, camps, treks, rides horses, trains and planes and teaches English when he runs out of money. (And his folks are jealous!)

Despite my original expectation of hating the over touristy Cuzco, I actually feel in love with it over the month that I was there. Many things came together to make it happen. Churches emptied as world cup became gospel, sun worshipping festivals attracted tourists, and free drinks at the bars allowed me to save money. Cuzco is definetily like no other place on earth. The history of the cultures and their temples left behind are some of the most impressive in the world, and yet when the sun goes down, the bars light up until morning when the sun awakes from its slumber. Best of all, it was my 21st birthday! With such a big festival happening on the solstice, many people I had met made it to Cuzco to celebrate the sun and me! My work schedule fit right in as all my classes were between 4 and 8 pm, leaving time to party and time to recover! As most backpackers will tell, the parties mean that despite such an abundance of things to see, they very rarely get seen. With Macchu Picchu in the distance, it requires great discipline to see the other minor sites, and birthdays and discipline don't go hand in hand. Never-the-less, Cuzco was an amazing city that I will never forget.

After a month I finally managed to pack my bags and head back to Bolivia. After meeting a good group of people in La Paz, we sat back, soaked in the sun, and even took a tour of a Mcdonalds kitchen. Yes, Iknow what your thinking, but put yourself in my shoes and ask yourself, would you not be laughing at yourself the whole time! After a few good laughs we decided to throw ourselves down the worlds most dangerius road, on bicycle. Again, I know what you're thinking, but it is much safer on bikes. It is a journey that begins at an altitude of over 4700 meters, and finishes 3000 meters later, at a comftorble 1600. The danger lies in that it is only wide enough in most parts for one car, but there is two lanes.Oh, and this is Bolivia, they don't understand the word "paved". Often one car will have to back up to a wider section, but with no gaurdrails and a 3000 meter cliff below, tragedy often hits. One truck or bus falls off the edge every two weeks, and there are next to no survivors after a drop of that size. Very quickly into our trip we were delayed, as a crew tried to bring a truck up that had gone over the edge only an hour before. Fortunately for us this was the end of the tradgedies. The rest of the trip was spectacular. Amazing scenery, exciting biking, and the ability to breath more and more as the oxygen thickened with every meter we dropped. What awaited us in Coroico was an all inclusive hostal, buffet meals, pools and billiards. And all for about $10 a night. With a group of six of us we toured around the country side, taking jeep trips to waterfalls, watching shooting starts while lying in the middle of the road, and just kickin back. After a few days I returned to La Paz but quickly left again for the greener grass on the other side. I went to Sorata, a small village for trekking and relaxing. With a nagging cold and poor weather, I didn't make it far in an attempt for trekking. I did relax and eat well before returning to La Paz for the sixth and final time.

After one last look around La Paz and its witch markets, black markets, and juice markets, I began a journey to the middle of Bolivia in hopes of stopping at an animal reserve. I fell asleep on the bus however and completely missed my stop, and the next one was 8 hours further along. Deciding I was too tired to back track, I arrived in Santa Cruz and decided to begin the final leg of the road trip. Fortunately I met a good group of people staying at the hostal. The next day I went to sort out flight arrangements, and when I found out it would cost $225 instead of the original $30, plus there were no flights for six days, I was put into the wrong mood. I quickly looked out the window, realised I was looking at Copacabana beach, and all the problems went out with the waves. The next fice days was non - stop partying and sun-tanning. The general schedule was to wake up about noon, and after some breakfast head down to Ipanema beach until 4:15 when the sun went beind the buildings, walk back to base, and nap until beer o'clock. Every night was something different in Rio, and we didn't want to miss a thing. With a buddies 30th birthday on one of the nights, we celebrated with a soccer match at the worlds largest stadium, capacity of about 200,000. Being just an exhibition game, the 8000 people that did show up didn't exactly fill the seats, but everyone sits in one section and so a glimpse of the real thing is there. TO be honest I don't remember what happened next, but at about 5 o'clock, we decided to grab a few beers and head for the beach in time for sunrise. While waiting for Naomi, Stewart and I decided to have a game of chess using things on the ground and a stone chess set in the park. Without traditional pieces or colors, it was quite a disaster. After I got mad at Stewart for drinking his king/beer, I retaliated by killing my own knight/cigarrete butt. Most shook their heads at the idea of going to the each at this time as almost every robbery tale in Rio begins with, "Now I know it was tupid to be on the beach at 4am, but…". I am happy to report that the 3 dollars we had was left untouched. After a morning swim, the sunrise, and a good nap on the beach, we awoke at noon with suntans dictated by the way we slept and how our clothes had been lying across our bodies. The left side of my face was very dark, and the right side not so much. After a few more days of drinks delivered to us at the beach, beautiful women who said they were wearing bikinis, and parties at night, it was alas time to go home. Needing money for the taxes and so on, I went to the bank in search of cash. After a long ordeal, I finally got my money and went to the beach to soak up the last of the rays. A little later, while leaving the hostal on the way to the airport, I remembered the fiasco of forgeting my tickets at home on the way to the airport in Vancouver, so I did a quick check to make sure I had everything. Tickets, check, passport, FUCK. It was Friday at 5, the banks were closed, and my passport was inside, plus my flight left in 2 and a half hours. I ran to the bank and begged for my passport, which I finally got, before jumping into a taxi and Rio Friday rush hour. After a stressful and very slow ride, I arrived at the airport with 25 minutes til the flight left, but 15 minutes after the gates had closed. Despite my pleas, I was sent back. I returned to the hostal, quite a spectacle. I had lost my voice two days earlier and it was getting worse, my foot was double its normal size because of being stung on the beach, and I had now missed my flight and was forced to pay another $225 to get the next one. Was I upset, not really, it was Friday night, always the biggest in Rio!! After a few double takes from people who thought I was gone, follwed by a few laughs at my expense, we were in the traditional Rio street party. Here, every 50 meters of street has a new type of music, and new specials on drinks. The classics are the guys walking through the streets as waiters, with whiskey and red bull ready for buying. After a few of those and a few of these, it was time to call it a night, as there was to be no way I was going to miss my flight a second time. The next day we went for the beach for the final last time, until 4:15 as the sun went down, and then I was off to the airport, this time with ALL my gear in tow. I made it home without any further drama, except for the hour long search of my stuff at immigration.

I have now been back home since the beginning of August, just trying to see people and earn some money. I plan to be off on the next adventure by October, this time to Japan to teach English for a year to make some money to pay off those travelling debts, and to be able to go to school afterwards.

June 9, 2002

Well, after Potosi I went to the south for some wine tasting and horse-back
riding. AFter a couple days sampling the wine, which pails in comparison to
ARgentina's and CHile's, I was of to the South American version of the old
west. I took a horseback riding tour for the day, which was in an area only
a hundred kilometers from where Butch Cassidy and the SUndance kid were
killed. The scenery was amazing, beatiful colors and very odd rock
formations found in "Penis Valley". I think that says enough. AFterwards I
had to line up early to buy a train ticket north, but this was easier said
than done. WIth a couple hundred people already in the line up, I took my
place at the end. After 45 minutes, the line had only moved slightly, but
unfortunately it was now longer.Locals would come, find a friend, and join
the line. People close to the ticket window seemed to be very popular.
Remembering some advice I'd been given, I went to a travel agaent and booked
my ticket through them, although with an added comission. Fortunately it
only totalled a couple of dollars, and it meant I would get a seat. Luckier
than some I know.

While in La Paz I went on a search for my video tape of the Tinku festival,
but this too took longer than expected. I ended up leaving town for a while
and went to Lake Titicaca, and Isla del Sol. Acording to legend, this lake
and island are the birth places of such things as the first Inca Leader, the
moon, and the sun. Arriving to the island in the morning I bumped into
friends I'd met in the Pantanal and together we walked around the island,
visiting the birth places and seeing the ruins. AFter a days hiking we found
a place to stay on the island, and then returned to the mainland in the
morning. I later returned to La Paz where I met a few people who had been
talking about visiting the prison, a sight I did not want to miss.

The San Pedro prison holds about 1000 inmates, and no gaurds. At least not
on the inside. The gaurds greeted us on the outside, but didn't search us
when the metal detector went off. WIth our group of six we entered the
prison and were given the introuctions by a busted cocaine dealer serving
five years. (His sentence had been reduced because of bringing money to the
prison via tourists wanting a tour). Here we were told that real estate was
some of the highest value in all of La Paz, as you would be able to sell
your cell when you left. That is, if you were ruthless enough to keep it.
They had many sections, dictated by the value of the housing. Gates would be
closed between sections at night, allowing the rich and ruthless to party
together behind doors. The poorer inmates had to eat the provided food,
which contained tranquilizers to keep them all in line. Others could buy
what they wanted from the many restaurants, owned and opperated by other
inmates. If a problem arose with a particular inmate, he would have to go to
the front gate and admit what he had done. If he refused, the inmates would
go to the gate, get the police, and escort them in, offering protection. I
won't tell you what they used to do when a child rapist was first brought
into the jail. Just before we left the prison, our tour guide began offering
souve(sniff)neirs, and party packs. The party pack was $150 US, and included
5 grams of coke, a bag of marijuana, a bottle of Whiskey, and a nights
accomodation in the prison, with security guards. I believe he also included
free entrance into the disco. As he put it "This is the only place to do
this type of thing without worrying about going to prison" We all left
quickly after, mom, I swear!

Over lunch while discussing the oddity of the place, I just asked what
people thought about mountain climbing. I had thought about going to Peru
for it but there was a mountian near by which was supposed to be a good
climb. Nobody there had thought about it before, but within the hour we were
booking the tour. Being as we had next to no experience climbing on ice, we
did a three day tour including a practice day at the base of the glacier.
The second day we began the trek to the base camp, which was at 5200 meters,
a new height for all of us, and we had 900 meters more to go. AFter setting
up camp, we quickly tried to sleep as much as possible, as the final day
would BEGIN at midnight. Once midnight had come around, and we all confirmed
we hadn't slept at all, we got suited up and warmed up, before begining the
ascent at 1:30 am. Fortunately the moon was near full so visibility was
better than usual. Very quickly the altitude began to take its toll. In
fact, one girl didn't even make it as far as base camp before coming sick.
We were fairing better, but still had problems. A friend had sore leg
muscles from lack of oxygen to them, whereas I had stomach problems caused
by lack of food. Never the less we continued on, but taking lots of breaks.
ABout five hours later, we had completed most of the journey, and had only
200 meters to go. WHat we all knew though, was that this was by the far the
toughest 200 meters. The final summit climb was an almost vertical ice wall,
so with our ice picks and crampons we began the ascent. On the way up we
began to see people who just couldn't do any more, and had to retreat back
to a safer altitude. Our groups remained together and although slower than
some, we were faster than others to the top, which we finally reached after
an hour on the wall and 6 hours since camp. It was just after sunrise. AFter
the standard summit photos, handshakes and congratulations, we began the
descent. There is nothing like over coming a fear of heights by looking down
a 200 meter drop and lowering yourslef down backwards. I can't say I
overcame the fear, more reaffirmed it would be the better description. WIth
no further drama we made it to the bottom, and then continued on the path
towards base camp. Here we got to see where we'd actually been, with ice
caves and crevasses surrounding us. AFter an exhausting journey we made it
to camp, and just collapsed in the car on the way back to La Paz. Huanay
Potosi was 6088 meters high, and all of us agreed that we were glad to do
it, but would never do it again.

We arrived back to La Paz in time for the biggest festival of the year,
where for hours large groups parade down the streets in very elaborate
costumes while playing music and dancing. Locals also take the opportunity
to throw jam and water balloons at tourists. A day or two after I realised
that my visa had expired earlier and that I had to leave the country as each
day the fine grew. I packed my things and head off for Cuzco, where I was to
meet a friend and do the Inca trail up to Maccu Picchu. Even though I was a
week over my allowed time of stay in Bolivia, the fine only amounted to $10
US. I arrived in Cuzco and within a couple days I was on the Inca tail,
which was a harder endeavor than I imagined. ALthough most people complain
about the second day because of the steep climb, it was the third day and
the descent that gave my knees a hard time. Fortuanately we made lots of
breaks as there were many ruins along the way at which our guide would
explain the significance. Meanwhile, porters would be running past the
gringos, ofter carrying full propane tanks, tables, tents and food. That is
why they are tipped so well. On the final day, after a brief walk on the
dark, we arrived at the sun gate, where on a clear day you can see the
postcard view of Macchu Picchu. Unfortunately, the fog was thicker than the
american tourists who thought this was the birthplace of christianity. We
then continued down further and after dropping off our bags, it began to
rain. We were assured this was standard morning affair and not to be
discouraged. We did a three hour tour with our guide from the trek, and
learned more than I will ever remember. The most common themes had to do
with wondows that only allowed sun in on the solstices, incredible accuracy
in stone cutting and fitting, and how it was designed to ward of intruders.
(Unfortunately, they didn't know they spanish existed, let alone know they
had gun powder) AFter wards a few of us climbed the mountain that is in the
background of all the postcards, and from here you could see that Macchu
Picchu was done in the lay out of a condor. By noon, once the big tourist
groups began to file in, we were all beat from the four day trail. We went
down to the town below where we waited for our train to take us back to
Cuzco. We had awell deserved shower before meeting again for a good-bye
dinner. ALthough we'd been up since 4 am, we weren't about to sleep yet, as
very important World CUp games were on TV. ALthough I don't particularly
care, it is hard not to get caught up in the enthusiasim that the British
show. FInally, at some god awful time in the morning, I did get to sleep.

SInce then I have done next to nothing. Always with plans of going to
Bolivia, ten days later I still haven't left. There always seemed to be a
reason; I was too lazy to pack my things, a good soccer match was on, and I
found a pub showing the stanley cup. On Friday, I woke up determined to go
to Bolivia, but by the time the bus was leaving, I had gotten myself a job.
I don't really know how it happened, I think I didn't want to pack my bags.
SO instead, I got a job teaching English and an apartment. It is only a four
week contract, but it gives me a good number of hours so I should be able to
stop spending money and instead save a little bit. AFter I finsh my
contract, I SHOULD be off to Bolivia!

I am now in Santiago again, after a very successful trip to the south. After
finally getting my clothes sent to me in Chile, I raced off to one of the
most famous parks in the world, Torres del Paine. I thought I was in way
over my head as the first two hours nearly killed me. It was late afternoon
so the sun hit directly on the face, I was going uphill, and I had enough
supplies and food on my back to last 7 days. it hurt so much I began
thinking about a shorter route to the end. With rushing water beside the
campsite, sleep was harder than I expected, and so I was out of my tent in
time for sunrise. The wind was howling, flash rain showers cleaned the
earth, and a rainbow stretched over the entire valley. Nature was at its
finest. I hiked to the famous towers but with all the rain came lots of
clouds so the view was less than hoped for. I was however the only one there
so I found a spot in a cave of rocks and sat in silence hoping for a
clearing. I soon made my way back to camp, packed up my things, and began
the longest day of trekking in my life. It was 11 am, and I had already been
trekking four hours, but the next campsite was a long way away. I finished
my 14 hour day by strolling into camp just before dark, just in time to
throw up my tent while putting my dinner together. That night, I had no
troubles sleeping! I only hiked for six hours the next day, up into Valle de
la Frances and back, before tring to battle the wind while making dinner. My
stove had troubles lighting and then all of a sudden, there were flames
everywhere. I was lucky to have enough water to put out the fire, but the
stove was destroyed, and dinner was only half cooked.I ate it anyway and
went to bed. The next day I found an AMerican couple using the same type of
gas as me so a trade of fuel for cooking time was made. We stayed together
throughout the rest of the hike, and on the sixth day we went to a glacier
to do some hiking and ice climbing. This was a lot of fun and a chance to do
somehting I'd never done before, two of the pictures were taken there, one
of my climbing the ice and the other of me in an ice cave within the
glacier. Afterwards we continued on and on the next day we were leaving the
trekking behind, and getting ready for kayaking. We had planned a three day
trek that would take us out of the park into an adjacent one, where we would
have the chance to kayak among glaciers. With wind gusts of 100 km/hour
though we had to cancel and come up with a new plan. We settled for two days
of kayaking among the glaciers at the end of the original route. This was
still incredible, as the pictures will show. We then all said our good-byes,
and I began going north again.

I went back to Argentina to Bariloche, a famous skiing and hiking resort
town. I spent three days hiking through forests, over mountain passes, and
beside lakes. We had a great time and saw some incredible views. Along the
way I bumbed into someone I had met 10 months earlier, climbing a mountian
in Ecuador when I first arrived. A few days later back in Chile, we were
waiting for good weather to do a four day trek, including a summit of a
volcanoe. After waiting a while, we took our chances and made our way
towards the treks begining. We woke up on the day of the summit attempt and
after five days of rain, we had not a single cloud in the sky. By lunch we
were at the top and surrounded by eight different snow capped peaks in the
distance. Within an hour of being on a windy and snowy peak, we were hiking
through dessert plains, stopping often for the need of water. After a couple
more days we had reached the end of the trek, and so we would continue north
to a place I had been looking forward to for a long time.

Pucon is Chile´s outdoor capital, with whitewater rafting and kayaking,
horse-back riding, and lots of trekking. They also have Hydro-speeding,
which is going down a white water river head first with your arms in a
floatation device, and everyone raves about how good it is. Finally, you can
climb an active volcanoe, where on a clear day, you can see the lava inside
the crater form the top. Unfortunately, there had been a lot of rain, so the
rivers were very dangerous, plus the forecast was five more days of rain and
wind so all climbing and water sports were cancelled indeffinetely. You
can't be lucky all the time. I decided to head up to Santiago where I have
been for the last couple of days doing the usual city sights, including an
Irish bar for St. Patty´s day. My plan had been to live here and do some
more teaching, but after talking to teachers working in Santiago plus those
who have worked elsewhere, I have decided to save teaching for Japan, after
a few more months travelling here.

I will be going to Valparaiso tomorrow before doing a wine tasting tour
in Chile's biggest vineyard. I will soon jump the border to Argentina again,
for more wine tasting, and a trip to a park with the tallest mountain
outside the Himilayas. Then to Buenos Aires for a little rioting before
going to Brazil and Rio de Janero!

Bye for now!

A week of bad luck coupled with stupidity has left me in Chile, while my
clothes are in Argentina and have been for a few days! They are on the way
I'm told, and hopefully tomorrow I can head for the hills.

After I wrote last I spent a little time in the north of Chile, seeing some
ridiculously touristy things. The kinda of tours where you get in the bus,
drive for a couple hours, jump out for a few minutes, snap some photos of
the locals that wish you would just go away or buy something, and then jump
back in the bus and head to the next spot. I hate being this kind of tourist
but in remote places in the dessert tours are the only way to see most
things. The best part of the north though was sandboarding again. This time
we went at midnight under the full moon and had a blast. Obviously it was
much cooler than before so we could keep going over and over, til I
literally bit the dust a couple of times and had to wait a bit for my head
to clear. 22 hours on the bus took me into Santiago where temeratures were
usually over 35 degrees, and ciesta time lasts longer than the work day.
Trying to stay cool with pop and icecream I evemtually made myself sick from
a sugar overdose, and still haven't seen the actual sights in the area, but
I will return.

It took three days of bus and plane combinations to get to the southern most
city in the world, Ushuaia Argentina. I was hoping to get lucky and find a
last minute deal for Antarctica at a good price as the Argentine peso had
also been biting the dust. September 11 downfall meant that less boats were
going and they still wanted US currency, so prices were the highest in
years. The offer I did get though was a good price but included a very low
chance of survival. We would get about 4 weeks to go anywhere we wanted, but
it was in a sail boat there would only be a six man crew: the captain and
five clueless foreigners. I don't think the Isrealies pitching me on the
idea understood the words "Cape Horn" and "10 meter waves" as the were
rapped up in the romantisism of sailing their own boat. Well, I've seen "The
Perfect Storm" and being in my early twenties, I still have a will to live.

After spending some time hiking in the national park and visiting the nearby
glacier, I flew to Calafate and the amazing Perito Moreno glacier. I had
stumbled upon a group of 12 american girls from some University near Malibu
and I just happened to go wherever they went, which included a trip to the
amazing glacier. Words don't do justice to the view you get when hiking
closer and closer, and as the afernoon wore on and the sun came out, massive
pieces, 30 meters tall, would come tumbling down in a thunderous crash. The
glacier was about 3 or 4 Km in width and about 50 Km in depth, the whole day
was very humbling. Unfortunately this would mark the beginning of my bad
luck/stupidity downward spiral.

Back at the hostal while hanging out with "the girls", my camera
disappeared, although I didn't realise it til I was in the next town.
Arriving in a tiny village late at night we found ourselves a hostal and
retired for the night. In the morning we were woken up and asked if we were
staying another night, we said yes, and she said "I'm sorry, you can't, we
just gave your room to someone else a minute ago. Please hurry up, check-out
time was an hour ago." We threw our things together found a new place, and
set up camp. We had planned to hiking but the winds were too strong to even
go outside so we made our way to a pub and spent the day there instead. We
did get our trekking done the next day and the sight was probably the most
beautiful I have seen yet, tourqouise lakes surrounded by glacier capped
mountains and occasional ice crashing into the lake. We spent a few hours
there in silence and made our way back to town.
I woke up at 9 and then learned that the last bus out of town left at 8, so
I might as well cool my heels. I went on a walking tour and finished seeing
the town within the hour, so I took my laundry to get done, went to the
hastal and began reading. I met some people there and after a couple of
beers I was off to the bar with another Canadian where we stayed til 4:30 in
the morning, and although I didn't have THAT much, I was still tipsy at 6:30
when I had to get up to catch my bus to Chile. It wasn't a fun ride, nor was
it made better when I remembered that my clothes were still at the laundry,
and I had already left the country. The hostal said not to worry, in a
couple of days it would send them to me in Chile. I had no choice but to
hope.
I then made my way to a duty free zone to replace my camera and then decided
to go hang out with some penguins in the afternoon. Expecting my clothes to
arrive the next day, I prepared to head for the National Park where I'd
begin a seven day trek around mountains and glaciers. My clothes didn't
arrive, nor did they arrive today, but I have been promised them for
tomorrow, and I do actually believe them this time. If my self-induced bad
luck is over, I will be hiking by the afternoon, otherwise, I'll be staring
at the walls again wishing I was in a town big enough to have a book
exchange, or a newspaper, or a television. As I always say in times like
this, could be worse, be happy bout what I do have, yadda yadda yadda. Or I
guess I could sing, "Don't cry for me Argentina"

ANy way, plan is to travel for a couple more weeks and then start looking
for work in Santiago. Failing that, I'll head to Brazil, learn some
Portuguese, and work there. Frankly all I care about now is some clean
clothes!!

Thanks for listening to my rambles an misfortunes,
Adios

Well, despite having been her only a week or so it feels like so much more. Probably because I do something with myself during the day and sleep poorly during the night on the buses. Things are going well despite a few bumps in the road, I guess it takes a while to get back in the swing of things here.
After arriving in Lima again I made my way to a small town called Ica with an oasis near by that provides huge sand dunes for sand boarding. I guess the chair lift must have been in the repair shop as we had to haul our own butts up the hill, which doesn't sound like a big deal unless you know how hard it is to hike uphill in sand. Regardless it's tons of fun to throw yourself down the hill on a piece of wood. Only problem was the wind picks up at the top so you can't see very well, and as I found out the hard way, an ill timed gust of wind can destroy a camera, let alone lodge sand in the eyes for a couple or three days. Afterwards I went to get the camera repaired and was reminded why not to place your trust in anyone. "Yes I can fix it" really means "Yes I can make it worse" and "Come back at 2" means "I'm sorry you missed your 3 o'clock bus, but I always take a siesta" No big deal, caught the next bus to Nazca where the famous Nazca lines are. These are massive lines, trapezoids, triangles, plus many animals such as spiders, whales and many others, which were put here by pre-Inca civilizations.I won't go into a history lesson here, but bottom line these lines were done for important reasons like finding water and mapping the suns movements. They are so big the only way to see them is by taking a small plans over them in the morning. Once in the air the only way to see them is to circle above while the plane is at such an angle that you can look through the window and see the ground. Well, 4 out of 5 of us became sick, but again I had to learn a lesson the hard way. Always make sure your sick bad doesn't have a hole in it. I was less than impressed with the situation and had to make my way to a Laundry place. Once again, no big deal. Can't get mad over things like that or down here you'll never enjoy yourself. Besides, whenever something has you upset, you always have a long distance bus ride ahead that gives you a chance to cool off.That bus took me to Arequipa, a big city where I could hopefully get my camera fixed and arrange a tour to what is arguably the deepest canyon in the world. I spent the next couple of days waiting for the report from the repair guy and meanwhile saw the local sights with a dutch girl I had met earlier. I eventually had to buy a new camera as the guy in Ica did some wonders to it, but again, not much point getting mad about it. The trip to the Colca canyon was incredible; amazing views and relaxing hot pools were exactly what I needed. Afterwards was a dinner with traditional folklore music group and a pair of dancers. Mid way through the girl came to the audience to find some gringo to pull on stage and humiliate, and I was the first pick. Fortunately I know that all you have to do is swing the hips wildly and you look like you know what you're doing. A couple minutes later I left the stage to a loud applause mixed in with some giggles. What was surprising was that most people wouldn't do it. This very cute local girl asked them to dance in a country where no-one is going to remember you and not even your friends can laugh, but people were still too embarrassed. They missed out. A 5:30 walk up call the next day had us ready and waiting to see the Andean condors at dawn, but someone forgot to mention that it isn't condor season. Views made up for it though and soon enough we were on the way back to Arequipa.
The plan now is to head to Chile to do some hiking in and around Patagonia, and then to Uruguay where I expect to look for work. After that I haven't the faintest idea what I'm gonna do. Being as it will be summer I think someone should come down and visit! I look forward to hearing some suggestions.
Adios