Cartagena Take Two

Things were a little bit calmer this morning, though the heat was already quite intense. We walked outside the city walls for the first time to an area of town called Getsemani. We were already having a few issues with people stopping abruptly on the narrow sidewalks. We knew very well, however, that things could be much worse. We walked toward the Castillo de San Felipe, but as we crossed a bridge to get there, I was a bit concerned about the heat and being completely exposed without shade for an extended period of time, so I snapped a picture from a distance and we turned around. We took a different route back to the old town, passing some graffiti as we walked by. We did a little bit of shopping, but didn’t end up buying anything. Stores essentially had the same stuff from one place to the next, but not the key items we needed like . . .a pin for Nicole’s camera bag, or an ornament for our tree. Even good magnets were hard to come by. If you wanted a Panama hat, however, you need not look far.   

 We had lunch across the street from our hotel at a pizza place. We had hoped to snag one of the seats in the plaza, but an older man who looked like Dr. Hammond from Jurassic Park stole the last one. Some nerve. We ended up being the first to be sat indoors, but there was a balcony upstairs which worked out nicely because it eliminated the hawkers trying to sell us cigarettes and panama hats. After our pizzas, we regrouped at the hotel to formulate our next plan. We still needed to get aforementioned pins and ornaments and such, so I did a bit of research. We ended up going to a stretch of stalls at the Mercado de las Bovedas, which was an old military storehouse. It’s now about 20 “different” shops selling mostly the same stuff. We ended up getting a keychain of one of the colorfully-dressed fruit vendors which I will convert to an ornament.  I also ended up getting a Colombian national team soccer jersey because the price was right. It ended up being about $10, so I didn’t feel right trying to get a lower price any lower than that. Later on we found a flag pin for Nicole, but it really took some hunting.    

 I had made a dinner reservation for 630pm (when most restaurants just start opening for the night). I thought perhaps a reservation was needed since outdoor space is often limited, but it turns out it was most definitely not required. We were the first people there, and watched them physically open the restaurant and put out the signs and menus. I had picked this place because I wanted to try a local dish called Posta Negra Cartogena. It’s basically steak cooked in a sauce made out of Worcestershire sauce and Coca Cola amongst other things, so it’s a kind of tangy/sweet flavor served with plantains, and coconut rice. Unfortunately, the restaurant I had reserved told us that they were out. It had been a frustrating evening of running into people and nearly getting hit by cars, so we were in a bad place when we heard this news. I basically said there’s no point in even staying, so we up and left. We hunted around briefly. Another restaurant I remembered from my research ended up having a guard posted outside, blocking the entry. I took this to be not a great sign, and we continued elsewhere. As we neared our hotel, we passed the restaurant next to the place where we ate pizza for lunch. They had one seat outside, though it was an unusual setup. Because a group of twenty girls had showed up and wanted to eat at ONE table like the Last Supper, our table ended up being off by itself as if we were eating at a completely different restaurant, or had perhaps brought our own table.   

 To make matters worse for Nicole, she was alerted that due to previously mentioned group of twenty girls (who had all decided to order pizza, even though there was a pizza place next door), the wait for Nicole’s margherita pizza would take at least 45 minutes at best. The waitress suggested various salads and fish dishes, but I think she could sense the fear in Nicole’s eyes. She then brought Nicole with her to order a pizza from the neighboring restaurant. As it turned out, I got my posta negra a while after Nicole received her pizza, but it was a delightful dish that was topped off with some kind of banana dessert. It was perhaps the closest thing we will have to any authentic in Cartagena.

    We went back to our hotel and sat on the rooftop, away from the chaos all around us as car horns and salsa music from different bars wafted into our ears to create a kind of dissonance that pretty accurately sums up lively and wild Cartagena.   

Feliz año nuevo!

After a Christmas in New Jersey and a followup visit to Houston for the holidays, we elected to continue our adventures down to Colombia. From Houston, it’s a short five-ish hour flight to Bogotà. Unfortunately for us, there was a two hour delay on our New Year’s Eve flight due to some sort of runway restrictions down at El Dorado Airport. This would mean that we would arrive in 2020 as opposed to having a little buffer back in 2019 to get through customs and to our hotel for a chance to get some much needed rest. As it turned out, we touched down with about five minutes to spare and were pulling up to the gate when the flight attendants announced that it was now 2020. We were fortunate to have gotten business class seats, so we were off the plane in short order. As we walked the long length of the terminal toward customs, we saw fireworks erupting all along the horizon. A group of about twenty rampers were watching it as well and eventually turned and looked at me and waved. Welcome to 2020.  

 We breezed through customs and took an Uber down the empty roads to our hotel near the old town, about twenty minutes away. Some shady looking characters immediately ran up to the car when we got out hoping for some change, but Nicole and I are millennials and didn’t have any actual cash to give anyway. To heighten the tension, our hotel door was locked and nobody was there to let us in. After a minute, a security guard at the adjoining building was able to get a hold of the hotel to let us in. For having touched down around midnight, it was now about 1am, which wasn’t too shabby. We settled in for the night. 

We were awoken the following morning by heat consuming us. You see, while it was really only about 50 degrees outside, the altitude and the shade’s absorption of heat made it feel like 80 in the room. We had an early start to the day, just to get out. In spite of our phones telling us it was only 58, we didn’t need our jackets while walking outside. We explored a neighborhood known as La Candelaria. The streets were nearly deserted. We eventually reached Plaza Bolívar, where we encountered more people, but they were far outnumbered by pigeons. Virtually nothing was open at this hour, so there wasn’t a whole lot to see. We then caught an Uber to take us up the hill to where we thought we would catch a cable car or funicular to the top of Monserrate Hill. Apparently a lot of other people had the same idea, and it looked like a line for a ride at Disneyland so we simply walked down the hill back toward our hotel. Since we had pretty much exhausted our to-do list for Bogotà, we decided to take an earlier flight to Cartagena. A little while later, we found ourselves back at the airport, but this time in the domestic terminal.   

 Though we were able to depart earlier, it only saved us maybe 40 minutes in the end, as it was a very long taxi for departure. We will take what we can get. Our hotel in Cartagena is also in the old walled area of the city. It was very quickly apparent that this is very different than Bogotà. It is quite busy and there are a lot of tourists. After checking in, we walked around to explore. It was a bit overwhelming. It has similarities to Casco Viejo in Panama City, but it’s not as . . .nice. It’s perhaps a little too wild for our tastes, and very difficult to walk. Gaggles of tourists stop abruptly as they try to figure out where they’re going or pausing for a dramatic selfie. We would have to jump off the narrow sidewalks into the street to avoid them only to be almost run over by a taxi or horse-drawn carriage, which are surprisingly frequent. I didn’t even want to stop for pictures because everyone behind me would surely run me over.  

 It’s like a cross between Panama City, Ubud in Bali, and New Orleans — it’s a nice looking neighborhood with the colonial architecture, but it caters to a clientele and inauthenticity that is a bit of a turnoff. We had dinner at a place called, “Beer Lovers.” This was a nice chance to escape the crowds on the street and enjoy some local brews. Nicole had a red ale and I had a coffee stout, not standard Caribbean beers, or tropical beers, but delicioso nonetheless. We also got a couple beers and some snacks to go because they were so yummy and we were now just seeking ways to avoid the crowded streets. We figured we would enjoy the beers on the roof of our hotel. Perhaps I am being unfairly negative toward the poor walled city of Cartagena, but when you’re spoiled like we are, you have a lot to compare it to. It does appear that everyone else is enjoying themselves, so take that as you will. Tomorrow is a new day, and maybe things will be different when it’s not a holiday. Fingers crossed.

The Long Way Home

We were able to get business class to Atlanta, which was a nice reward. We even managed to sleep for a few hours a piece. Once we actually arrived in Atlanta, I reviewed our options for getting back to LAX. The first flight going out to LA was oversold by 12 and had more than 30 people on standby. Not one of them got on. It was clear that we would not be going direct if we wanted to get home today. We looked into many possibilities - none of them great looking. Everything from San Jose to Hayden was a bit messy. Everyone is flying today apparently. We narrowly got on a Delta flight to Northwest Arkansas and that is where we wait.

We would have to wait for about 3.5 hours to catch the next flight west, so I had some time to reflect on the trip in a sort of mini-post about my thoughts. Rather than my traditional ramblings, I thought I'd do a simple pro and con about Peru, particularly in contrast with my own country.

The Pros:
The people. Nicole was quick to point out that people were very friendly and patient, particularly when our language skills were not at their peak. When we were a little confused on the first night how to get inside the airport hotel, a guy hawking taxis pointed us in the correct direction without us prompting him.

While the constant hustling in Cusco was a bit annoying, the people as a whole were respectful and kind. Whether we were purchasing sweaters, going through customs, or trying to get train tickets in severely fractured spanish, the person on the other side of the conversation would smile and make sure that we were getting exactly what we thought we had asked for without simply trying to make us go away like a pesky fly.

The Cons:
Now it may have seemed like there was only one pro, but decent people are hard to find these days and finding people who care is a pretty big pro. Turks & Caicos in the Caribbean was a very pretty island with rich turquoise waters, but the people (both resident and visitor) were absolutely ghastly. Everyone had attitude and for me at least, this put a damper on the whole experience. So my cons for Peru are relatively minor in the grand scheme of things, but I give them to you anyway.

At the top of my list for souring my disposition is everything that the Ministry of Tourism is involved in. This includes access to all the major Incan ruins throughout the country including famous Machu Picchu. Now the street vendors have figured out how to sell a $1 magnet to someone who wants to pay with credit card, but the ministry of tourism cannot seem to understand that it would be a lot easier to buy a $55 entrance fee using Visa instead of going to an ATM repeatedly. Furthermore, the ministry is very strict when it comes to student discounts. Both Nicole and I had student IDs, but they would find any reason not to give us the discount. Basically my cons revolve around money, and I am known to be cheap. Obviously people will keep paying $55+ to see Machu Picchu, but it does seem a little bit like a scam in a way.

So what's the point of all this? Well I have often encouraged people to travel because I think people are too stuck in their own bubbles. Maybe folks are starting to take that advise because I had though I was going to Peru in the off-season. If that's the case, I'd hate to see it at peak season. The global economy seems to be doing well because I would hear accents from people from China, Brazil, Canada, France, and Korea. One country, as usual, was curiously missing. The good ol' USA. I had to sign a logbook to access a trail to the Inca Bridge, and part of the sign in was to indicate country. I had to go forward a couple pages to reach a blank line, and with about 30 lines per page, there was not a single American. I saw Argentina, Switzerland, Canada, Chile, and Japan in the book. Not one American. And this is kind of a sad trend I've been observing as of late. What is wrong with us? While we were away, another school shooting happened, and it was shrugged off as just another school shooting.



We get in the habit of looking up how safe other countries are and seeing what the travel warnings from the state department have to say. "Beware of petty theft in Lima. Be alert when riding public transportation. Avoid walking around at night alone." I wonder what they would say about the United States. It's a sobering thought. We reflexively look down at the countries of South America as having such grandiose problems, but we just aren't as great as we think we are. And maybe a little perspective might be a good cure to this notion that America is so exceptional. It's a long way from petty theft to systematic murder of kids. We may be exceptional, but as I watched the TV news in our hotel room, I couldn't help but be embarrassed for what has become normal in America.

Back to Cusco

 We got up this morning in Ollantaytambo and went for a walk around the small town. Directly out the door of our guest house was a hike to some ancient Incan ruins. These were completely free, which was nice because I feel as though Machu Picchu really takes advantage of the foreign tourist. As an added plus, once we were at a slightly higher vantage point, we could also get a good view of the Ollantaytambo ruins, which were $25 per person to enter. The view from above was just fine. We could also look down into the alleys and check out the whole town from up high. After coming back down, we walked around a little bit, taking in the town once last time before getting in our taxi that would take us to Cusco.

It was an easy 90 min drive up to Cusco, which is over 11,000 ft elevation. Ollantaytambo was around 9,000, yet that extra 2000 ft seemed to push Nicole over the edge. We found ourselves struggling a bit more with steps and our hearts were beating just a little bit faster.

Our hotel is very close to the Plaza del Armas, or the main square, so it's a fairly easy and short walk to things. We made our way to Qorikancha, which is some kind of weird church/convent/inca site. It had a nice courtyard area that was bordered on the outside by various Incan walls. The upper floor contained modern art exhibits and some nice views of the surrounding city and hillside.

As this is essentially our last stop before going home (Lima doesn't really call to us with much excitement), we felt obligated to do a little shopping. Cusco being a tourist town, this was not a difficult endeavour. In fact, I could have stood still in the middle of the square and vendors would have come to me to peddle their wares, but I wasn't keen on being hustled, so we went into various markets instead. They all had essentially the same stuff, but just slightly different so we had to do a bit of hunting for things like ornaments.

As the sun started to go down, the temperature did as well. Surrounded by alpaca-knit sweaters, our decision was easy. For about $11, we each got a hand-knit sweater. Not a lot of money was spent on all of our purchases. Hopefully they don't fall apart in the first wash.

We spent a little time taking pictures around the square at night before heading back to the hotel, which was strangely warm. We talked to the reception about this mystery, but all the other rooms were equally as airless and stagnant.

Tomorrow we may explore a little bit more of the town before catching a flight to Lima in the mid-afternoon. It's unclear how we're getting back to the U.S. as of yet, so our time in Lima is kind of up in air. We should know in about 24 hours.

Wet and Wild at Machu Picchu

We got up relatively early this morning to catch a bus up to Machu Picchu. 25 mins-worth of being bounced up and down in the backseat, we arrived at the entrance. Immediately our progress was slowed by . . . everyone. I had underestimated the size of the crowds. I had figured that February being the low season and rainy season would keep the numbers down. I was very wrong, and folks who did not have the best physical fitness, or frankly the ability to walk in a straight line. Every time Nicole moved to overtake someone, they would shift course like a snake, stop for 10 seconds, take out a selfie stick attached to an ipad or some such nonsense and then start walking again toward the other side of the path. It was driving us mad.


Anyway, we attempted to get away from the crowds and found a little overlook by ourselves until half of a Chinese tour group believed our spot was grand and decided to pin us into a corner while standing approximately 3 inches away.

We fought our way out and went in search of a new viewpoint. At this point we had only a limited view of the site with glimpses of the ruins between passing clouds. We were awaiting for the clouds to clear in hopes of a clearer view, but there were few indications that the weather was improving. We passed the time by hiking toward the Inca Bridge which was nice because the crowds really thinned out as it required a very small degree of physical fitness. When we returned, the weather had not changed, but there were now more people. I would have sworn that walking sticks were prohibited, but lots of people had them nonetheless. I really don't understand. These people had not completed the Inca Trail (which is currently closed for trail maintenance), and had merely stepped off a tour bus and had to walk up a few steps. A walking stick only proved to be an obstacle to our eyes when we were stuck behind these "adventuresome" trekkers.

In any event, in short order, the weather got much worse. The rain started to intensify and it got quite cold. There is very little shelter at the site, so Nicole and I just kind of huddled by ourselves near a wall for a good 30 mins during a downpour. See the first picture in this post to see Nicole looking out at the ruins (which as you can see were not visible at all). The rain did do a good jog of dispersing people, however, and just as we were about to despair, the wind picked up.

It wasn't much, but it was enough to start pushing the clouds along. We never got a sunny clear view like you would see in a postcard, but we did get some nice misty and eerie shots that evoke more of a mysterious feel to the ancient citadel. After spending a solid six hours at the site, we fought through the slow moving tourists and made our way back down to town to catch a train to Ollantaytambo, an hour and a half away. Here, everyone else on the train took a taxi or transferred to bus to go to Cusco. Nicole and I were spending the night.

After settling in to our small guest house in the small town of Ollantaytambo, we had our Valentine's Day dinner for two at a small restaurant a few blocks down the cobbled streets. Unlike back in the states, there did not appear to be huge demand for fancy Valentine's Day dinners and we did not need a reservation or have to deal with special Valentine's day menus. I appreciated this and we were able to enjoy a quiet and relaxed dinner despite feeling a bit cold and wet in our clothes that had adorned our bodies since the morning. After dinner we headed back to the guest house after Nicole purchased a few hand-made goods at a market stall. It was a very busy, but fulfilling day. Perhaps not the most traditional way to spend February 14, but I wouldn't change a thing.

El Viaje ha Comenzado

With 8 days off, Nicole and I set off to Atlanta and then Lima, and then Cusco, and then Ollantaytambo, and then Aguas Calientes. This would put us within striking distance of the famous Incan citadel of Machu Picchu. It was a very involved process to get here, but we elected to push through to get here and then take our time working our way back for the remainder of the trip.

It's currently the low season here in Peru, so the crowds are smaller, but the clouds and rain are more abundant. Hopefully tomorrow when we try and see the site, the weather will cooperate. We were considering going up today as well since we arrived in town at 2pm, but it's a fairly involved process to buy all the separate tickets and so forth.

When we tried to buy bus tickets, they just automatically gave us tickets for tomorrow without bothering to ask. Then we discovered that the ministry of tourism would only accept Soles (local currency) for the entrance fee to the site itself which we also had to buy ahead of time and took a few trips because the student rate we hoped to get was denied and we didn't have enough money. Well now it was 4pm and we obviously weren't going to see the ruins today so we remained productive and purchased our train tickets for our ride out of town. Now (hopefully) all the stress is done since everything should now be taken care of.

Now our mission is to find food. Not many exciting pictures yet, but that should hopefully change tomorrow...

Manana!