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Peru South America

Aimless Wandering in Cusco

The day before yesterday in Cusco was our ‘extra’ day. The day when i have seen and done all i wish to see and do. The day when i have time for relaxing or just wandering aimlessly. We had a leisurely breakfast at our hotel and then went for a walk, nowhere in particular, but it took us through less touristy neighborhoods, down and then up again streets and stairs so steep that at times they gave us pause before we proceeded. We visited a crafts market on the San Blas square and generally saw people going about their ordinary lives.

It was a warm day and nice for being outside. The weather actually has been lovely on the whole trip so far. A couple of brief rain showers, but that was it. The evenings are quite cool here and one definitely needs a jacket, but it is very pleasant.

Anyway, we walked. We visited a church high over the city. We saw yet more llamas and followed them around with our camera.

We had lunch at, of all places, an Israeli restaurant; a cozy hole in the wall place busy with Hebrew speaking, young patrons. We had hummus and felafel and salad, which was a welcome change from the Peruvian cuisine.

Peruvian food is fine enough and there seems to be more here for vegetarians than in Ecuador or Colombia, but i am a bit tired of vegetable soup and avocados and spaghetti with only the faintest whisper of tomato sauce. We have had some nice pizzas. One thing i will say is that everywhere the food is very fresh. Every meal is prepared when you order it – like the wood oven pizza we had for which the dough and sauce were made fresh, the cheese grated and the vegetables sliced before our eyes, while someone else chopped wood for the fire.

After lunch we parted ways for a while and i went off in search of a book to read. I found two places with single racks of used English books – mostly an inexcusable collection of John Grisham and romance novels, but i did find a beat up copy of ” Gone Girl”‘ which i bought. I settled in at a cafe of a busy pedestrian street just off the main plaza for a cigar and some reading. I had an espresso and a fishbowl of fresh pineapple juice. It was difficult to get much reading done though when every couple of minutes a man or woman, boy or girl comes by to sell paintings, jewelry, dolls, etc, or offer shoe shines – the last of which i admittedly really needed, but even at the asking price of 1 sole (40 c) i couldn’t be bothered to be bothered to buy. Little urchiny looking children came by and sat down, eyeing my cigar with curiosity before taking sugar from the dish on the table and running off while emptying the packets into their mouths. It was a very nice place to sit, outside, in the beautiful weather and i stayed for an hour or more before starting the steep walk back to the hotel.

In the evening we had a great meal of Thai curry at an Australian-owned restaurant. Not very Peruvian but very delicious and inexpensive. We killed the evening doing crossword puzzles before bed. Overall, a very relaxing day in which nothing extraordinary happened, but it was perfect nonetheless.

Peru South America

Machu Picchu

Aguas Calientes is a small town at the base of Machu Picchu sitting astride the Rio Urubamba. The town exists, it seems, for the purpose of housing the throngs of visitors to Machu Picchu.

You can only reach the town by rail or by foot. We arrived by Inca Rail and are leaving by Peru Rail (the latter is better choice, in hindsight).

The town, despite its diminutive size is crammed with restaurants, hotels, and souvenir/craft shops and stalls. The restaurants and hotels are all overpriced and mediocre, banking on the facts that if you want to visit Machu Picchu, you have to pass through. It’s a nice place to spend a night though and it is fun to walk the steep streets and over the bridges crossing the river.

We arrived in the evening and checked into our accommodations: the Supertramp Backpacker Hostel. For the money, it was the best choice as far as i could tell. We had a private room, but with (uncomfortably public) bathrooms. It was comfortable with a good restaurant and a pleasant terrace bar. The place was packed with young backpackers from all over, trading tales of Machu Picchu hikes had and anticipated.

I went out for dinner and a cigar and watched tourists dodge the restaurant and massage touts and dogs playing in the street. (An alarming number of dogs here wear clothes. I cannot explain this phenomenon.) The weather was warm in the evening and perfect for a stroll.

We awoke this morning at 4:30 am and readied ourselves for Machu Picchu. Breakfast on the square during a short lived but torrential rainstorm. Queuing up for the buses to the top. Zigging and zagging our way on the bus to the top, at each turn coming what seemed to be perilously close to plummeting down into the valley below. The mountains – sharp, green shards exploding out of the earth were covered in puffy foliage and surrounded by shrouds of mist that were simply magical.

At the top we were in the sun and we commenced exploring. We hired a guide for the first couple of hours, which was a good choice as we got to learn about the history and engineering of the site, as well as the many practical aspects of the architecture. The other bonus of hiring a guide is that it took away any stress i may have had of trying to navigate the nooks and crannies to see it all. We took lots of stops for photos.

Once we were on our own we continued exploring, climbing up and down very steep and jagged stone stairs, which were generally unsecured on one side by walls, meaning that a misstep could lead to a serious fall. We were careful – Betty-Lou being averse to heights and i being prone to falls. It was exhilarating though and each level climbed led to new discoveries. There were llamas lazing on the top of the grass terraces and we saw a chinchilla sleeping in a window of an Incan temple.

The place was amazing. The ruins and the spectacular setting.

We descended from the mountain and spent the late afternoon hanging around and relaxing and fending off sleep.

Currently we are on board the Peru Rail train to Poroy (the closest station to Cusco). The train is quite fancy (they just fed us dinner and drinks) and although it is too dark now to take in the view through the huge windows, the ride is relaxing. Tonight we return to our hostal in Cusco and tomorrow is a mystery.

I am pleased that Machu Picchu did not disappoint.
dale

Peru South America

Llama Land

We arrived in Cusco yesterday morning after a short, hour long flight from Lima. Cusco was sunny and warmer than Lima, although being high in the Andes, the temperature quickly changes to cool and cold. Cusco sits in the Andes at 10,100+ feet above sea level, which is a about twice as high as Denver and about 2,500 feet higher than Bogota, by comparison. Aside from feeling a bit winded and having a bit of a headache though, it’s not bad.

Our hotel – the Amaru Hostel – is wonderful. Bright yellow with two flowery courtyards and views over rooftops of the city. Our room is small and cozy. We are in the San Blas district of Cusco, which is a short walk from the main square, although that short walk is up (or down, depending on your direction) a very steep street lined with anorexic sidewalks paved with slippery, centuries-old stones. It’s an adventure.

The first day we had the late afternoon, during which we walked the city, getting our bearings, and enjoying the cobbled streets, welcoming squares, and numerous cathedrals and churches.

The city is delightful and is so different from Lima, and even different than other places i have been in South America. Maybe because it is so historic and well preserved, or maybe because of how touristy it is. So far, we like it; lots of places to explore.

Being a very touristy town, unlike on Lima, there are tourists everywhere and the usual touts promoting the best tours, restaurants, souvenirs, etc. English is more widely spoken, but by no means is it universal. I am adding Spanish words and phrases to my lexicon daily.

We went to some of the main cathedrals, through the main plaza, and then to an alleged chocolate “museum” (really just a shop) where i had some wonderful and spicy hot chocolate outside in the square. After that we went walking until we stumbled upon the Mercado San Pedro, Cusco’s main market.

There are stalls selling handicrafts, but it is predominantly a food market. Stalls of produce, including massive yellow squash and white cauliflowers and sinister black corn; aisles of women selling made to order fruit and veg juice concoctions; walls of rounds of white, salty cheese; stacks of bread, both hearty and decorative; aromatic peppers and spices; fresh olives; huge white sacks of quinoa and other grains….It was endless and wonderful.

We bought some cheese and bread before wandering down to the food stalls where people cook and sell fresh from the market meals to hungry locals. Along side that are rows of fishmongers and butchers. The butchers were some of the most remarkable i have seen. The ground was bloody and dogs ran free searching for dropped scraps. Piles of skinned bulls heads lay on the ground. On the counters were mounds of pristine white stomachs, baskets of red hearts, assorted organs, eyeballs, brains, spinal cords, more skinned heads, and stacks of snouts (from what animal i am not sure). I took as many pictures as i could without making a nuisance of myself.

After that we had coffee and a cigar on a patio on a square (it would seem that the smoking rules are more relaxed here) before having dinner and, after yet more wandering, heading to bed.

Today has been a but more of the same – wandering and exploring the streets and sights, eating, picture taking, etc. currently, we are taking a break at the hotel to wait out a particularly cold rain.

I should say, today was especially similar to yesterday because late yesterday, i lost my camera. Not stolen. Lost. I know where i left it. I don’t lose things and certainly not while traveling when i am especially vigilant, but i got lazy or negligent and i lost it. It was a cheap camera, so the loss in that sense is not great. The pictures are all i care about. The only thing that kept my from panicking is that all of my pictures (except from yesterday) were already backed up on the iPad, so nothing was lost. Today we back tracked to the market and a church or two so i could retake some of the pictures. Now for the remainder of the trip Betty-Lou and i shall be sharing a camera. One less thing to carry home for me i guess.

None of this stopped me from getting about a million pictures of the Andean women in their standard and traditional dress of sturdy skirts, woolen leggings, sweaters, long black braids, and tall, brimmed hats. I also have tons of pictures of the women dressed in colorful fancy dress and their baby llamas. Vancouver would be a much happier place if its streets were filled with baby llamas.

I don’t know what’s up for the rest of today, but tomorrow we head out of Cusco for an over night journey that includes Ollantaytambo, Aguas Callientes, and (of course) Machu Picchu.
dale

Peru South America

Bullfight

The previous day in Lima we had bought some tickets to the bullfight from a ticket counter at a supermarket. Lima’s bullfighting season runs from late October to early November, so the opportunity presented itself and this was something i had wanted to do for a long time. Admittedly, I think the idea of killing animals for sport or entertainment is morally indefensible, but i still wanted to see it, once. (I don’t eat animals either but i still love the butchery sections of markets. I can’t explain it. I just find it gruesome and fascinating.)

We walked out of the historic centre and across a highway and waterway into an area that is notably absent from the maps of Lima in all of my travel books. Across the way on a hill the slums of Lima are visible, with ramshackle houses seemingly piled on top of one another.

The area is distinctly poor, with buildings crumbling, chaotic traffic, the strong smell of urine, and dusty streets lined with lively but shabby buildings. I loved it. The area was busy with everyone gathering before the fight. Spanish music played loudly, some recorded and some live; men gathered to drink beer and smoke, and women grilled meat on the streets, making impromptu eateries out of a cart and plastic chairs. Most people wore fancy, wide-brimmed white hats, which was about the only spiffy thing in site. (Being the only obvious foreigners in site, i didn’t feel right taking pictures of the people, but i took this picture of a side street.)

We entered the bull ring: the Plaza Del Acho. It is the oldest bullring in the Americas, dating from 1766, and the second oldest in the world. The place was crammed full of spectators enjoying the pre-fight ambiance. Grilled meats, live bands, wine, beer & pico vendors – even a cigar vendor! It was very exciting.

People eagerly waited for the matadors and other “performers” to make appearances before the event. Finally it started. The arena holds 13,000 people was nearly full and we all sat on wooden benches.

The events opened with a traditional Peruvian dance done to a live brass band which played on and off throughout the fight.

Then the crowd cheered as the matadors entered the ring.

There were six bulls that afternoon. Each fight (it hardly seems like the right word but i haven’t a better one) follows the same formula. A bull is released. A half a dozen lesser matadors with fuchsia and yellow capes taunt the bull around the ring; getting it to run through their capes and around them. When the bull gets too close, they run and jump behind protective wooden barricades.

Then to trumpets the picadores enter the ring on horseback. They stab the bull with long spears between its shoulders. This causes the bull to bleed and get understandably pissed off. The bull then charges into the horse, often lifting it up and sometimes toppling the rider. This was exciting. The horses wear armour to prevent them from being disemboweled.

Then the matador appears, at first without his red cape. He begins by taunting the bull and stabbing it with six colourful, barbed instruments, which go into and hang down from the bull’s shoulders.

By now the bull is bloody, angry, and tired. The matador then arms himself with a sword and red cape and begins the dance wherein the bull charges, the matador waves his through the cape, the crowd shouts “olé”, and the matador struts cockily while the bull composes himself. This continues for a while during which time, a few times, the matadors are flipped, knocked down and nearly trampled, or in one case, gored in the leg. The always kept fighting, however (the matadors are pretty impressive. They must get laid constantly.) This was all kind of beautiful and very exciting when something went wrong. Make no mistake, i was rooting for the bull.

Then the matador stabs the bull with his sword, through the shoulders, into the chest, hilt deep. The bull bleeds from his wound and blood pours from his mouth. The bull staggers while the sub-matadors taunt the bull with their capes until it falls down (this is the worst part, in my opinion), at which point someone slits the bull’s throat. The body is dragged from the ring by horses to the sound of cheers. The matador struts around while people throw roses and hats.

It’s pretty cruel and awful, but also very interesting. I am definitely glad i went, though i don’t know if i would again. I loved the cultural experience, and the pageantry, the music, and costumes – i also loved that you could smoke cigars, which i did throughout the event. The torture and killing gives me pause.

Reflecting on all we had seen, we left and went back to Miraflores for a vegetarian dinner and sleep. A very full day indeed.
d

Asia Cambodia South East Asia 2013

Battambang

Battambang day two.
We had arranged a tuk tuk driver to take us around to the various sights I wanted to see, which were outside of the city. Our driver called himself “Dollar” and proved to be a terrific guide for the day. He was handsome, spoke excellent English and was quite willing to talk to us about his life now and previously when he was a monk, as well as his mother surviving the Khmer Rouge and his dream of moving to New York. He also gave us a lot of information about the sights.

Our first stop was the bamboo train. Cambodia has no trains; they were all decommissioned some time ago, but there is in Battambang, in one of the rural villages on the outskirts, one remaining train…of sorts. The bamboo train consists of a low platform of bamboo slats through which the ground is clearly visible. The platform sits atop two axles each with two metal wheels/cylinders. The contraption is powered by a small motor which seems to be operated with a wooden stick. There are no brakes.

Dale, Betty-Lou, & Mr Dollar on the bamboo train

Apparently the thing can reach speeds of up to 40k per hour but we did not seem to travel that fast. We sat in the platform and were zipped though the countryside, leaves slapping our arms much of the way, past rice fields and over rickety bridges which cross muddy streams. The tracks are mostly even and mostly straight, but the ride is bumpy at times. It was great, like a really primitive amusement park ride. At the end of the line (after about 20 mins) we arrived at a “station” consisting of a few shacks selling water and bananas and some t shirts and scarves. There were a few children around who were keen to show us the brick making factory nearby, which was really two giant kilns that looked like beehives, in which they made bricks by burning the left over husks from the rice harvest.

On the way back we passed numerous other trains coming in the opposite direction. There is only one track, so when another train comes in the opposite direction, the drivers decide somehow who should get off. One of the trains is quickly dismantled to allow the other to pass and then first train is put back on the tracks and everyone carries on their way. They whole thing was really fun and cost $5 for the ride.

We reboarded our tuk tuk and set off to our next stop. The dirt roads were incredibly uneven. It had rained the night before and heavily that morning and there were deep holes and furrows in the narrow road, which made the travel interesting and slightly frightening when we had to pass by another vehicle and drive perilously close to the edge of the drop off into the rice paddy. The bumpiness was just fun.

We next went to a small mountain and drove half way up in a jeep (your options are walking, motorbike, or jeep) to a temple, some golden shrines with buddhas, various monks, and some caves. The caves had been used by the Khmer Rouge to throw people to their deaths, but now a steep staircase has been installed and there is a shrine at the bottom with a large, golden buddha and glass boxes in which the bones of the dead are collected. The cave was somber and beautiful, but what made the visit less fun were the stinging red ants that covered the stairs and the handrail on the way down. I was mostly exempted from their wrath, but Betty Lou had them on her ankles, up her pant legs to the thigh and on the back of the neck. To her credit, she handled it well – far better that i would have.

After that the jeep took us to the top of the mountain to the temple Phnom Sampeau which was beautiful, but even more stunning were the views over the verdant landscape. While we were up there we saw one large, loner monkey walk out of the trees and right into someone’s house.

Back at the base of the mountain at Dollar’s suggestion we ate lunch at an outdoor restaurant in what was basically the yard of someone’s modest home. Betty Lou had fried ginger with chicken, i had morning glory with rice, our driver had soup and rice and with water the whole bill was $7. And the food was delicious.

The next leg of our journey involved another stretch of insanely bumpy dirt road in the tuk tuk. The holes and furrows were even worse, but it was exciting and it afforded us some a wonderful look at rural life.

We stopped at a grouping of trees which were filled with hundreds and hundreds of giant fruit bats. They were mostly hanging upside down in the trees, but were very much awake, screeching and flapping their wings. Every few seconds a few would fly around, stretching their enormous wings (these are some of the biggest bats in the world). It was incredible.

Next up was a stop at a tiny winery – a new thing in Cambodia (they do grow grapes here). We sampled the wine (not great, but drinkable), a brandy (not bad and very strong), grape juice (nice), and a honey ginger juice (delicious).

Finally we stopped at a local fishing village to see locals fishing from boats, using large nets.

The day was wonderful. We saw so much pristine countryside and authentic rural life. The weather was excellent and our host delightful. He charged $20 for the day and i for once did not haggle. (I’m pretty sure Betty Lou slipped him a 50% tip.)

The evening finished up with dinner at small corner restaurant where we watched a cat stalking a rat. More wildlife, up close.

It is now the next morning and we are waiting for the bus to Bangkok. They say it will take 6 hours. I have my doubts.

Asia Cambodia South East Asia 2013

Angkor Wat

On our second day in Siem Reap we hired a tuk tuk driver, Mr. Lum, to take us to the temples. The journey was not long but was wonderful, riding through the shady jungle streets in the tuk tuk, past troupes of monkeys, elephants, and roadside vendors selling coconuts, fruit and water.

We began by visiting Angkor Thom, of which the highlight is the Bayon temple, which is three levels structures with of dozens of faces, all of them huge and perfectly carved and identical to one another. It was spectacular to climb over the stones and in and around the temples’ various rooms, some of which held Buddhist or Hindu shrines and were thick with incense smoke. There were many tour groups there, but it did not spoil our visit.

Let me say this of this temple and all that we visited so i need not repeat myself unnecessarily all of the temples, are amazing. They bear many similarities: each is situated in the jungle and is surrounded by the forest as well as countless smaller temples, statues, walkways, and pools, and everything is or was ornately carved with design and religious figures. All are about 900 years old, give or take a century. Some have been well maintained and others have let the jungle enclose around them, with vines and enormous strangler figs growing on and through them and slowly reducing them to rubble. Around each shrine or temple are locals selling drinks and souvenirs and there are throngs of small children selling postcards and musical instruments. Our driver took us to each temple and we had more or less unlimited time to explore. It was a great way of visiting. Some people took bicycles to the temples, which seems like a great idea in the morning, but by the afternoon, the heat is oppressive and i did not envy them in the least.

Next we visited Ta Prohm, which is one of those temples where nature has been allowed to take over, it was amazing to see what will happen if the trees are allowed to grow as they please.

On our way out of that temple we saw what looked like a foot long twig but was the largest walking stick insect i have ever seen. Aside from its mantis-like head, it looked exactly like a stick. Incredible. We also saw a large, dead black millipede and some flying beetle the size of a big cockroach. There were also innumerable cows and several grazing water buffalo (at least that’s what they looked like).

We visited numerous other temples, some of which involved climbing steep stairs to the top, which afforded wonderful views over the landscape. Betty Lou was delighted to find an artist from whom she bought a painting.

Our day of temples finished up at Angkor Wat itself, which is truly magnificent, rising above the jungle and approached by way of a long walkway bordered by carvings and a large moat.

We walked around the temple taking in the incredible bas reliefs and i was looking forward to climbing up to the high inner chamber when i fell down some stairs (because i was being stupid and not paying attention) and badly twisted my ankle. Betty Lou sprang into action, assessing the injury (not a break but a sprain) and fashioning a bandage out of her krama (traditional Cambodian scarf). The end result of that was that i can walk/limp, very slowly and my ability to climb stairs is somewhat limited, so i did not get to climb up to the inner part of the temple. It is painful and annoying but it shall not otherwise hamper my sightseeing.

In the evening we went out for a dinner of traditional Khmer food – i had a lovely curry and an odd dessert of cooked potato and tapioca – before going to bed, early and exhausted.

Colombia South America

Cock Fight

Yesterday morning, before it got too hot, i went for a walk around the walls of the old city. The walls are fairly high and thick and hold numerous cannons, pointed out at sea. The walk is quite pleasant and offers great views into the streets below.

After my walk i hung out at the hostel in the hammock for a bit and ran some errands and had dinner with an Australian girl and then i headed to one of the squares where i was meeting someone who had promised to take me to a cock fight.

This all started the day i arrived when i met this guy, a local, and we were chatting about what i was going to see and i asked him if her knew where i could see a cock fight. (I had originally wanted to see a bull fight but they only happen in January and February.) The man said, you have no idea who you are talking to–i have 48 chickens for fighting. And so he said to meet his at 6:00 on Friday and we would go.

On the face of it, this seemed like an exercise in poor judgment on my part. I was going to go to a dodgy part of town with a guy i just met to see a cock fight. My instincts said do it, but be cautious. So i met the guy and his two cousins at 6:00 on Friday. I was happy to find out that a young couple from Australia (a girl and a boy) would be joining us. (The Australian cuople told me they had been mugged at knifepoint the day before at 5:00 right in front of their hostel in the touristy neighborhood, but they said they only gave the guy about $5 and he went away.) We hopped in a taxi and went about 15 minutes out of town to a much, much poorer neighborhood.

Before we went to the arena, we went to the patio of this bodega on the corner and had beers (well, i had water) and chatted and took in the people watching. Although it was not an area i would go on my own, i really enjoyed it. Loud salsa music was playing and people were out walking and shouting at each other jovially and dogs were playing in the street. The whole area was really run down and dusty, but it had a friendly feel.

At about 8:00 or so we went to the arena. It is an arena dedicated to cock fighting and in one of many in Cartagena. It seats people in the round on three levels (the admission fees vary depending on what area you sit in). Just outside the arena is an open area with a bar and placed where they keep the chickens on fight day, where they prepare them, etc.

the spikes are applies to the chicken legs

So people have chickens and they have their chicken trainers bring them to the arena. The chickens have their feathers clipped in particular ways and underneath and on the legs the feathers are removed. The chickens are weighed in a special scale to see what weight class they belong in, and then the spikes are attached. A cut is made in the back of the chicken´s leg and a metal thing is inserted and it is bandaged to the leg, then into the metal thing a spike is screwed in – a spike about 2 inches long. Then the lower part of the chicken’s leg is wrapped, kind of like how boxers wrap their hands.

While all this is going on, men are standing around drinking beer, smoking, chatting, and checking out the chickens who are to fight.

The fight began and we took our places. The two chickens are brought into the ring and the betting begins. Some of the betting is organized and some of it is just guys betting with the guy next to him. The whole process is really chaotic with everyone shouting names and numbers all at once and waving money around. The minimum bet is 20,000 pesos (about $10 or $12 dollars), but bets go into the thousands i am told.

The fight starts and the chickens start pecking at each other and flapping and the crowd goes crazy yelling. Above the ring hangs a clock, counting down from 15 minutes and a sign with each chicken’s name and stats (wins, losses, weights, village of origin). Also in the ring are two judges. If one chicken takes the other down for a period of time, that chicken is the winner. If 15 minutes goes by with no big wins, then it is a draw. Judging by the reaction, the crowd doesn’t like draws. Most of the fights lasted about 10 or 12 minutes and ended with one chicken dead or nearly dead. The quickest fight lasted about 5 seconds.

the winning chicken and the dead chicken

I found it all quite fascinating and i enjoyed yelling at the chickens: Come on Chino, don’t be a pussy, take that motherfucker chicken down! Or sometimes, if i was rooting for chicken number 2 (when both chickens had the same name, which happens more often than you would think), i would yell: Numero dos es numero uno! The fighting was interesting, but the best thing was just the experience of being there and knowing it was something not a lot of people get to see. Also, i liked that you could sit in the arena, watching the fight and smoking cigars. That was pretty cool.

We definitely stood out, the Australians and I. We were the only gringos there and the Australian girl and i were the only girls, aside from the one selling the beer. We hung out there for a couple of hours and then took a taxi back to the centro historico. After being dropped off i went to the Casa del Habano and had a cigar and mojito with the manager while watching Romancing the Stone on the tv. The manager says it is his favorite movie.

Over all, it was an awesome experience. A definite first for me – and maybe a first for them, as i am not sure how many cigar smoking, tattooed, pale, blonde vegetarians they get at the cockfight.

Asia Uzbekistan

Yurt Sweet Yurt

After my last post, on my last night in Bukhara before going to the desert, I spent the evening until past midnight drinking tea and smoking peach shisha with the British girl i had met on the train coming here, as well as a couple from Switzerland. The evenings here are really perfect, weather-wise. Whoever suggested that I bring a jacket or sweater for the cool evenings was mistaken.

The next morning after breakfast, I was picked up my my driver who was to drive me to the Kyzilkum Desert (Kyzilkum means “red sands”, i believe). Normally they arrange these desert excursions for groups, but i was just one. I had hoped that others might have decided to go on the same night as me, but alas, I was alone.

So my driver, who did not any English, drove me for 3.5 hours into the desert. The drive was great. I was able to watch as the city of Bukhara and its outlying areas melted away, leaving only rural areas, then just occasional tiny towns, then just desert. As we drove, the cars began to be outnumbered by donkeys and carts. The desert was totally sandy in spots, and in others is was dotted with dry sage colored shrubberies. Often I would see a tribe of goats roaming without supervision, or a few lazy cows.

We stopped along the way at a couple of holy sights, but mostly we just drove in silence (silence except for the driver’s mix of 1990s dance and techno hits, that is).

Finally we arrived at the yurt camp. Twelves yurts arranged in a circle around a fire pit, plus a large dining yurt and a sort of a house (though ‘house’ seems like the wrong word – more of a ramshackle shack) where the family who runs the camp live. There were some outhouses and a couple of sinks that didn’t produce any water. It was all quite in the middle of nowhere. Shortly after arriving, i went on a walk and climbed to the top of the highest sand dune and do you know what I saw? An endless vista of sand dunes marked by the odd, solitary camel.

My yurt was delightful! Large and cozy with rugs on the floor and a little mattress (like a small, soft futon), a pillow and blanket. It was decorated with multi-colored textiles and decorative objects made of yarn hanging from the ceiling, like large mobiles. It stayed relatively cool in the yurt – cool compared with the 40 degrees outside. I had no difficulty napping or sleeping in it.

After resting for a while and enjoying a cigar, My drive took me about a half an hour away to a massive lake! What a surprise that was. The lake was huge and seemed to have a tide. The sand was beautifully soft and i waded out quite a ways into the water. We sat in a couple of old chairs left by the water and i dozed off for a while. After awaking, we stalked a tribe of goats who were at the lake to drink. Every time i got close to them though they ran off irritably.

After the lake we returned to the yurt camp, where my camel was waiting. I went off into the desert for about 2 hours just before sunset. It was lovely. I saw many long-tailed, hopping desert rats and a few rabbits. I also saw this one mud shack in the middle of nowhere with an old women outside. My camel was very docile and I found him reasonably comfortable (no more or less so than a horse).

After the camel there was dinner of vegetable stew, fresh vegetables, melons, and tea. After dinner I had another cigar and watched the stars come out. With no city lights or electricity to get in the way, the stars were magnificent. It was like being at a planetarium. I sat there until i remembered that i am afraid of the dark and then I went to bed.

I slept soundly and awoke when the sun started to slice through the gaps in my yurt’s roof.

After breakfast the next day, there was supposed to be more camel riding, but the camels had apparently disappeared during the night. I should point out that my driver, nor the host family spoke any English, so i didn’t do much talking during this overnight excursion. All i got regarding the lack of camels was “Nyet Kamel”. So we drove back to Bukhara.

On the way back, more desert scenery and silence and 1990s music. When Ice Ice Baby came on the driver and I both “sang” along – I did the verses and he the chorus. Vanilla Ice, bridger of cultural divides.

Yesterday afternoon after I scrubbed the sand and camel off of my skin (my clothes may just have to be burned when I return – I have basically been wearing the same outfit for 2 weeks in 40 degree weather), I spent the rest of the day smoking shisha and reading.

Today I have no plans. I am taking the 7:50pm overnight train back to Tashkent, which is supposed to take 11 hours, but I expect will take longer.

Bukhara has been amazing. It is definitely one of those places that is very easy to just hang around in. The yurt/camel thing was really good. I loved how desolate and quiet it was, but, not being a ‘camper’ by nature, one night was sufficient.

Tomorrow: back to Tashkent and the beginning of the long journey home.

Asia Uzbekistan

Assalomu Alaykum from Bukhara

Here I am in Bukhara. I arrived yesterday afternoon after a pleasant train ride (first class really is the way to go on Uzbek trains). The AC was working, I had two seats to myself, we were only 1.5 hours behind schedule, and I spent the ride chatting with a British girl also traveling around Uzbekistan.

My hotel, the Komil Hotel, is perfect. It is in a 18th or 19th C home that is beautifully decorated and adorned with details carvings and design. The courtyard, breakfast room, and my own room are all like small, exotic palaces.

Bukhara is slightly more compact that Samarkand, and while Samarkand may have overall the more breath taking monuments, Bukhara is by far the lovelier city. Bukhara has not been restored and modernized the way much of Samarkand has. Its main streets are still an ancient feeling warren of dusty roads, sandy buildings and covered bazaars. At the centre of the town is Lyabi-Hauz, a plaza built around a pool, surrounded by giant mulberry trees and with stunning medrassas on either side – all dating back about 500 or 600 years. There is a pleasant poolside restaurant (where i ate last night and fed many hungry cats), and lots of inviting shops selling carpets and scarves and whatnot all around.

The monuments here are less tiled and colorful, and more the color of the desert, which means that wherever an azure dome appears it is astonishing. My favorite site so far though is the Kalon Minaret. It is 900 years old, about 50 meters tall and covered in rings of varying design. It is so enormous and so precise, that it is truly stunning. (Also, i like that at one point in history they used to put alleged criminals in sacks and thrown them from the top of the minaret to the ground in front of approving crowds. (This is why it is also known as the “Death Minaret”.)

So today i wandered, visiting the usual sights (mosques, medrassas, bazaars, and a fortress). I has some wonderful tea and a strange stroll through a very ghetto Uzbek “carnival”. It basically consisted of four rickety soviet-era rides, an ice cream stand and the world’s most depressing zoo. The zoo was a collection of trailers painted with pictures of men shooting animals, depicted with bloody bullet holes. In side, there were a few fowl and about 4 or 5 canine looking creatures miserably chained to posts or in cages. I didn’t go in.

I like it here. It is very relaxing and pleasant. Tomorrow i will hang out (I actually saw most of the sights I wanted to see today). The day after tomorrow i set out in to the desert for my camel adventure.

Asia Europe Turkey

The Caves and The Turtle

This morning i woke up just after 5am to the loudest call to prayer ever. I couldn’t fall back asleep. Just as the sun came up i looked out my window and saw nine hot air balloons floating above the valley! It was quite lovely. I will be on one of those balloons on Friday morning.

Today i was on a tour of the rock valley. It is a little group of people – about six. I usually don’t do tours, but as with Ephesus, it would be difficult for me to see all of the things any other way. Here, all of these locations are spread out in the countryside, so a tour was the best option.
We visited a number of valleys where the paths were lined by the sorts of towering rock formations that i described in yesterday’s entry. We also visited the actual cave houses, cave churches, and cave monasteries. They are amazing! They were built/carved beginning in the 10th Century and were inhabited until 1952, when the Turkish government moved them into houses after earthquakes destabilized many of the rocks. The dwellings they built are mind boggling – there are houses with every sort of room conceivable, churches with columns and frescoes, elaborate staircases and winding tunnels that go deep inside the mountains. Some of the dwellings are part way up the side of cliffs; now there are stairs constructed, but back “in the day” the residents would have scaled the wall using handholds. It is truly unlike anything i have ever seen. We had lunch and visited more of the same – rocks and rock dwellings.

I had two animal encounters today. At one point i got too close to a camel and when i turned my back on it, it tried to bite me. The other occurred when we were driving and there was a large-ish turtle crossing the busy street. I expressed concern for the turtle – not wanting to see it get squashed. Our driver stopped the van, ran into the street, picked up the turtle, brought it back to the vehicle and handed it to me. I held this turtle for about 20 minutes until we reached a good place to deposit it. The creature was quite adorable, but he did (understandably) get frustrated with being held for so long and began kicking his little legs. It was at this point that he urinated on me. I was able to clean up right away, but as i have only one pair of trousers for this trip (and they, like the rest of my clothes are beginning to smell), i was not delighted at having this occur. My displeasure was outweighed by knowing that we saved the turtle from a certain fate in the road. The last i saw of him, he was moving slowly but with great determination into a patch of yellow squash.

My favorite quote from today came when i was listening to a carpet seller explain how the colors in the carpets are made. He explained that they use only natural dyes, using onion skins for yellow, lice blood for red and tobacco for the browns. He said, “You can see that tobacco is not only good for the lungs, but it also make good color.”
On that note, i think i shall go smoke.
d

Wandering North

Tag: animals

Aimless Wandering in Cusco

Machu Picchu

Llama Land

Bullfight

Battambang

Angkor Wat

Cock Fight

Yurt Sweet Yurt

Assalomu Alaykum from Bukhara

The Caves and The Turtle