mother daughter travel Archives

Africa Mauritania Senegal Trip 2021 Senegal

Touching Down in Dakar, Senegal

I arrived in Dakar, Senegal in the middle of the night from Casablanca. Not my favourite thing. Arriving at night is so disorienting and robs me of any ability to get a sense of my surroundings. This uneasiness was compounded by the fact that the new international airport for Dakar is about 50 km from the City through complete darkness. During my taxi ride with the two young men who agreed to drive me for a reasonable price I wondered if I was being abducted until my sleepy brain remembered that I have maps.me on my phone and saw that we were indeed on the right path. They were nice guys who played music videos on a screen mounted on the dash and smoked cigarettes.

I got to my hotel sometime around 1am. I was staying at the Hôtel Ganalé; a small hotel in the absolute centre of the city of Dakar (the area called the Dakar-Plateau). As it turned out, I had been upgraded from my regular room to a suite on the roof, complete with my own rooftop patio. It was great, though I didn’t really appreciate it until the light of day.

Senegal was my 70th country, I believe (country counting being an imprecise endeavor). I picked it because it is close to Mauritania and, after my week there, which was amazing, but a bit rough, I thought it would be nice to hang out in relatively urban and modern Dakar. Senegal is in West Africa, bordered by Mali, Mauritania, Guinea, and Guinea-Bissau, with the sliver country of The Gambia entirely within its borders. Senegal is quite frequented by tourists and is known for its music scene, surfing, and, once upon a time, the Paris-Dakar rally. It is a poor country, but in Dakar there is a lot of wealth on display, with the true poverty a bit hidden in certain areas. The official language is French, but most people also (or instead) speak Wolof or one of the other common local languages.

There was no particular sight that I went to see in Dakar, I just picked it more for the vibe and proximity to Mauritania. It proved to be a good choice.

On my first full day, after a filling breakfast at the hotel, I set off walking. I meandered around the streets. The area around my hotel had a lot going on: cafes, shops, mosques, and the Institut Français. I walked a few blocks to the Musée Théodore-Monod d’art Africain IFAN. Dakar has a lot of museums and galleries, but I picked this one for a start as it was manageable in size and had a good selection of West African traditional art and artifacts. It was great and nice to see West African museum pieces on display in West Africa as opposed to in the museums of the once upon a time colonizing countries.

From there I walked the city with less intention, soaking up the lively atmosphere and appealing architecture.

It was hot and humid. I went from a clean and freshly made-up human to a sweaty beast within minutes. Putting on a covid mask whenever I went indoors did not help. But the weather felt good. Healthy.

I walked down to the sprawling market area where arts and crafts, textiles, clothing, and household wares are sold. I didn’t buy anything that day but enjoyed my browsing and dialogues with the vendors.

I spent some time relaxing with a cigar and bissap juice at the Institut Français, which is just an oasis in the city.

The people I met in Dakar were friendly and outgoing. Before I went, most of what I heard from others and read suggested that I would be endlessly hassled while walking around; that I would be bothered by beggars and hounded by touts. It wasn’t quite like that. I don’t recall seeing beggars – or at least none that approached me. I did have men come up to me and speak to me out of curiosity or offering their services as guides, but it wasn’t a hassle. I never felt bothered by it. I certainly never felt unsafe, which was another thing I had been told to expect – that especially at night one should not walk about the city. It seemed fine, with the usual precautions I employ of awareness, confident walking, and sobriety. With all of the restaurants and music venues, what a shame it would be to not go out at night.

That said, my first night, I did spend mostly inside, apart from a dinner out at a Korean restaurant, where my “vegetarian soup” had octopus tentacles lurking in it (particularly disconcerting as I was reading HP Lovecraft at the time).

It was a great first day.

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Glasgow & Paisley

On our final day in Scotland we decided to take a day trip from Edinburgh to Glasgow. Neither of us had an overwhelming desire to go, but it was right there, of course we had to check it out. My mother does not share my love of aimless walking, so I decided we would do a self-guided walking tour around Glasgow to see their street art. That way we would have a purpose but also get to check out the city. It really was a perfect idea, in theory.

There is a website that lists all of the major murals around the city, so we decided to follow that route from the train station, where we arrived from Edinburgh. It started off well enough; there were a few murals in close proximity just in the alleys off of a main pedestrian street. There was a race on, bagpipe buskers, people out…it felt festive.

The 2^nd or 3^rd mural we saw ended up being my favourite, which was a cool one of a black British taxicab hoisted by colourful heilum balloons.

From there it was all downhill. That is not to say that anything bad happened – we just didn’t like Glasgow. We found the city just dull. It wasn’t beautiful, it wasn’t interesting, it wasn’t intriguingly seedy, it was just mediocre.

I feel bad saying that and I’m sure that there are many people who live in Glasgow or spent more than a few hours there who love it and know about all sorts of hidden gems, but all I am saying is that for a city to spend a day strolling around in, it did nothing for us.

I am aware that there are excellent galleries and museums in Glasgow, but my mum doesn’t relish museums or galleries and I also wanted to be out and about.

Sadly, not only did we not enjoy what we saw of Glasgow the city, we also didn’t like the murals. They were well executed, but we didn’t find them terribly interesting or edgy.

We could have stuck with the plan, but neither or us were really digging it, so we decided to get a coffee and reconsider. As it turned out, finding a good independent café in downtown Glasgow was also a bit of a struggle (so many chains) but we finally found one: Laboratorio Espresso. It was a tiny place with excellent coffee and cakes. We pondered over a few espressos and macchiatos and decided that flexibility was the best course of action. We walked to the train station and hopped a train to Paisley.

Why Paisley? It was close by and had some historical significance. Paisley was a textile town at one time and it apparently the place that invented the paisley pattern, which is named after the town. Also, I realized when I was there, it is the home of the famous “Paisley Snail” case that every common-law law student learns in first year. (A woman bought a bottle of ginger beer and it had a snail in it. She sued. It’s about negligence. If you are a lawyer/law student you know it and if you aren’t you probably don’t care.) The law dork part of me was pretty excited about that.

Paisley is a nice little town and was pleasant for a stroll, though apart from a lovely church, it doesn’t have much in the way of sights.

We walked around a bit, had a coffee, and returned to Edinburgh, as we had to get up at 2am for a flight home.

The last day of our trip didn’t turn out as planned, but was enjoyable, largely due to our willingness to admit we weren’t enjoying ourselves and change plans. And what’s better than being able to just hop a train at the last minute to another city? Coming from a country with almost no train travel, it is pretty great.

And so ended our mother/daughter trip to Scotland. Thankful for a chance to spend time together and explore Scotland a bit, which was actually pretty great.

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Dean Village

From Sterling, we returned to Edinburgh. As we had already seen the main sights of the city, we decided to stay in Dean Village, an area just outside the centre, tucked away along the Water of Leith, which looks like something out of a fairy tale.

We got off the train at Haymarket Station and from there Dean Village was not a far walk, down Palmerston Place, past Mary’s Cathedral, then down hill. For the first time in my entire life I found Google maps to be of more assistance than my paper maps, which only marked Dean Village in a general sort of way.

We descended until we hit the river (the Water of Leith) and saw the view that had convinced me to stay in Dean Village in the first place…

Seriously, it is stunning. Quaint. Picturesque. I know it is Scotland and not France, but I felt like walking down the cobblestone streets, singing the opening number from Beauty and the Beast.

Dean Village, previously known as Water of Leith Village, was at one time its own village before it became part of Edinburgh in the mid 1800s. It was established in the 1100s and for about 800 years was the site of multiple mills, powered by the river. Now it is a largely residential enclave of historic charm.

Our accommodations were easy to find, as it was the historically significant Well Court, dating back to the 1800s and built as housing for mill workers. In the pictures it is the large, brick, castle-y looking building.

We had an Air bnb booked and it exceeded my expectations. It was so cozy and in this tiny two bedroom apartment, it somehow had at least six different wallpapers.

Staying in Dean Village was great. Peaceful and nice for walks. The part with the cute buildings is very small but there is also a lovely walk on a path along the river under a tree canopy. There are no shops and only one eatery in the immediate vicinity, but it isn’t a long walk to the high street, which we did for dinner.

I also took a pleasant walk to Dean Cemetery, which was very pretty, especially the areas where the trees had dropped pink blossoms amongst the headstones. It was a teeny bit spooky as I saw only one other person and the cemetery was about to close. I started imagining that I would be locked in and forced to spend the night. That did not happen, however, as I walked out the back gate onto the lawn of the Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art. It had just closed and I never did get back there (which is a shame – next time), but I enjoyed walking the lawns of the two large buildings where sculptures and installations were on display.

In the distance, I saw a man with a large ring of keys walking towards the gate. Realizing I was about to be locked in to the grounds, I ran up to him and exited just as he locked the gate. In my mind, I did this Indian Jones style, barely sliding through and then reaching back for my hat. Truthfully, I kind of wish I had been locked in, because then I would have a cool story of having to climb the walls to escape the gallery grounds, but instead I just had a pleasant walk back into Dean Village to our Air bnb.

The next day would be our last in Scotland and we would do a day trip to Glasgow and Paisley.

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Wigtown, Scotland

Wigtown, Scotland is the book capital of Scotland due to an abundance of bookshops set in a small, quaint town. Each fall it has a book festival. It is on the south coast of Scotland and is home to just under 1000 people, most of whom seemed surprised to see us there as travelers.

My mum, Luba, picked Wigtown because we both love books and bookstores and she had read a book by the owner of one of the bookstores, which was all about the town and his bookshop. A small town full of bookstores and characters sounded good for me, so we made the trip south from Edinburgh. (For a detailed account of the trains and buses required to reach Wigtown, see this post here.)

We stayed at Hillcrest House, a charming bed & breakfast in an old house a short walk from both the town and the sea and run by a lovely couple from England.

The town was delightful. It is tiny. You could see everything twice in an afternoon and still get to bed early. We spent two nights and 1.5 days, which was perfect. We got to go to all of the bookstores that were open (some of them randomly close on certain weekdays), have leisurely teas and strolls. Very pleasant.

The most famous of the bookstores is The Bookshop, known for being the book store of the aforementioned book, for being Scotland’s largest secondhand bookstore, and for its cluttered and creative interior.

We browsed there for quite a while and first edition Alfred Dunhill pipe book. (I collect cigar, pipe, and tobacco books.) Sadly, the owner was away for on a buying trip at the time.

We twice went for shopping and tea at Beltie Books, which we loved due to the proprietor, who had a demeanor that was to our liking and made excellent cakes.

We loved all of the bookstores and walking to visit all of them. There is a website for Wigtown’s booksellers, but it does not include all of them. There are good maps and brochures that have better listings available at most of the shops (but certainly found at Beltie’s). The shops do keep some odd hours, so if visiting all of them is your goal, do some planning ahead of time. We were winging it, and missed some.

There are a number of cafes and eateries, including one that is all vegan and vegetarian.

I have no idea how the town functions outside of the book festival, business-wise. It is utterly charming, but everyone we spoke to seemed so surprised that we were visiting on holiday. It is quiet and certainly not overrun with tourists. We loved it though. All the locals were so friendly and…colorful. It felt somewhat like being in a BBC show set in a small town. Who knows, maybe a show set in the town is forthcoming.

We also took walks on some of the trails around the town. One led to the sea, past fields of sheep.

Another led to a martyrs execution site where the ‘Wigtown Martyrs” were tied to stakes and drowned in the 17^th C for, effectively, being staunch Catholics and refusing to take an oath to denounce a guy who had denounced the King.

That’s basically it for Wigtown. Books, tea, strolls, and martyrs. It was a lovely and relaxing stop and we both liked seeing a bit of small town Scotland, as well as the journey there and back.

With our books (Luba bought quite a few) we made the journey back north, this time to Stirling.

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To Wigtown, Scotland by Train and Bus

In southern Scotland is a town called Wigtown. If you are reading this, you likely know why Wigtown is a destination, but if not, people go to Wigtown because it is the ‘book capital of Scotland’, boasting maybe a dozen bookstores in a quaint town of about 900 people. Each fall they have a book festival. My mother had read a book about the town written by one of the bookstore owners and we are both keen readers and book hoarders so we decided to go. The issue was how to get to Wigtown by train and bus.

Scotland is not very big so the most sensible way to get to Wigtown is to drive, but I never learned how and my mother did not want the stress of driving in a foreign country so transit it had to be. There are no direct routes from Edinburgh or Glasgow to Wigtown and there was no useful information I could find to tell me which trains and buses to take, so I figured it out, which took a bit of effort, so here you are: how to get to Wigtown from Edinburgh or Glasgow without driving.

We started in Edinburgh but the first leg of the journey necessitated going to Glasgow, so this works for departures from either city.

We left Edinburgh (Waverley Station) on a morning train for Glasgow. All trains can be booked ahead of time on the ScotRail website https://www.scotrail.co.uk. As far as I could tell there is no need to book in advance, but I did anyway and then picked up the tickets at the train station in Edinburgh from a machine.

The train from Edinburgh to Glasgow takes anywhere from 44 minutes to about an hour and 15 depending on the train. They cost the same. We took the shorter one and arrived at Glasgow Queen Street Station.

From there we had to change not only trains, but train stations – from Glasgow Queen Street to Glasgow Central. The stations are a five-minute walk apart, but leave yourself a bit longer to get there and find your next train. 15 minutes was fine for us.

From Glasgow Central we took a train to the town of Barrhill. This leg of the journey takes around two hours, depending on the train.

This is where things got interesting. Barrhill is a town of maybe 400 people. You may see none of them. The station is unmanned, so you basically get off the train next to a building that will be closed, surrounded by fields of sheep. You cannot pick up or buy tickets there. There is no phone and are no taxis.

The sheep that will greet you in Barrhill

From Barrhill Station there is a road to Barrhill town, which is walk able. It took us 20 minutes. It is an odd walk because it really is just a country road with little or no traffic.

You leave the station on the only road and soon will hit a fork. Turn left heading downhill slightly.

Follow that road through fields and past a cemetery on your left.

Barrhill Cemetery – maybe more populous than the town

At some point you will see a sign welcoming you to Barrhill.

You will then reach a part of the road with houses and signs and your second fork in the road.

Turn right towards the town. The town is a couple blocks of mostly houses, but there is a hotel (closed when we were there) and a general store where you can buy snacks and water and whatnot.

So, you’ve turned right and about one block down on the left hand side of the street is an unassuming bus stop just before a little bridge.

Wait there for the #359 bus to Newtown Stewart. Don’t worry, it will come.

You can check the timetables for buses here www.stagecoachbus.com.

There are a couple of buses in the morning and a couple in the afternoon. We caught the 1:20pm bus, which was on time. This is like a regular city bus. The website suggests that you may be able to buy tickets in advance close to the date, but there is no reason for that. Just buy the tickets on the bus, but check the fares ahead of time, and bring exact change or at last small bills. You cannot pay with credit cards and I did not see an ATM in Barrhill (and you don’t want to get stuck there). If you did get stuck in Barrhill you could call a taxi from Newton Stewart, about 40 minutes away, from www.mcleanstaxis.com but I have no idea what that would cost. Barrhill does not have taxis.

The bus from Barrhill to Newtown Stewart takes about 40 minutes.

Tell the driver you want to get off at Dashwood Square. Newtown Stewart is a metropolis of about 3,500 people and has more than one bus stop. Dashwood Square is the main bus loop, just in front of city hall (where you can totally pop in and use the washroom).

City Hall at Dashwood Square, Newton Stewart

From Dashwood Square catch the #415 bus from Stance 1 to Wigtown. It will take only about 15 minutes and that bus leave frequently (every 15-30 minutes throughout the day).

On arrival in Wigtown, you will be dropped off in the town centre, with a square in the middle and book stores all around, walking distance to everything.

I loved Wigtown, but I loved the journey there just as much as being there. It was like a fun mini adventure and was a great way to see some small towns and countryside in southern Scotland.

A final note, to return to Edinburgh or Glasgow (to to go to Stirling, as we did) you just reverse the direction of this trip, however be sure to buy your train tickets out of Barrhill in advance, as there is no place to buy them in Barrhill.

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Edinburgh, Scotland

Any misgivings I had about going to Scotland were dissipated upon arrival in Edinburgh. Luba and I took the train from the airport, past green fields and hopping bunnies, and arrived at the Princes Street station just in time to see a fabulous sunset and catch a glimpse of the city before total darkness descended. We both just said “wow.”

It really is a beautiful city. The hills give it a wonderful tiered quality so you can see the castle, rows of pretty stone buildings, statues, and parks all at once. But it was late and we still had to find our way to our Air bnb. We walked from the tram stop up and then down again to reach Grassmarket. Once the fav spot for public executions, then a neighbourhood for poor people, now a cool area with pubs and cafes and our lodgings. (Note to self for future non-fiction history book: “From Murder to Micro Brews: The Gentrification of Grassmarket”.) On reflection, this area was the perfect place to stay. Central and with lots of food and amenities nearby, a hilly walk to both the train station and tram stops.

We checked out our flat and I went for a quick stroll before bed. After all, there was a lot of sight seeing to come.

We woke up (to an alarm – yes I set alarms on holiday, much to my mother’s consternation) and had a coffee on Grassmarket before walking up and down picture perfect Victoria Street. It’s easy to see why it is in pretty much every Google search I did about travel in Edinburgh.

Victoria Street, Edinburgh (from the other end)

We went for breakfast on a patio overlooking Victoria Street. The sun was shining and would continue to do so. I had not been looking forward to the food in Scotland. I expected few vegetarian options other than falafel stands and salads. As it turned out, everywhere we went in Scotland there was an abundance of vegetarian and vegan options. Organic, gluten free, et cetera. I ordered a vegan Scottish breakfast, which came with vegan haggis, beans, tomatoes, mushrooms, spinach, and toast. It was pretty good and now I can say I’ve had haggis (sort of).

From there we walked down part of the ‘Royal Mile’ to Edinburgh Castle, one of the two main sights in the city.

This is not the castle; it is just a fine, pointy black church

We opted not to take a guided tour, so I didn’t learn much, but we enjoyed wandering. The oldest of the existing buildings are late 16^th C but there has been a fortress of some sort on the site since at least the 12^th C. As with most of the sites in Edinburgh, it was quite busy with tourists, but there were no queues to speak of and I didn’t find the crowds bothersome, but I didn’t have the patience for a historical tour.

From there we walked more of the Royal Mile just to see what there was. As it turns out: loads and loads of touristy tartan shops. After a few days in the country even I started to get sucked in, thinking, “Perhaps I do need a tartan tam and shawl.” Thankfully, I had the sense to know that there would be no way I would wear or want such things once I was back home. Instead I bought a cigar at one of the many tobacconists in the city.

Another picture of Victoria Street.
They do have more streets here but this one is just so colourful.

We then walked back to near the Princes Street tram stop, where we parted ways. Luba went to do her own thing, and I continued to wander around. I had visions of finding a sunny patio and having a cigar, but I never did find quite the right spot. (Smoking is 100% banned inside in Edinburgh, but smoking outside, including on patios is fine; in fact, it seems to be encouraged.) I did enjoy my walk, aimlessly checking out the side streets and squares of the City Centre.

Looking back to the Old City, Edinburgh. This is not the weather I was expecting.

view of Edinburgh Castle from the City Centre

On my way back to Grassmarket, I decided to take the long way round and ended up pleasantly strolling in a cemetery and around the University of Edinburgh.

I reconnected with Luba and we went for dinner at Maison Bleue, a French restaurant on Victoria. It was a bit fancier than we were used to but it had a nice bohemian vibe.

“food first, then morals”
Maison Bleue on Victoria Street

If that has been our only day in Edinburgh, that would have been pretty satisfying, but the next day we had more planned. We walked to the Palace of Holyroodhouse: the home of the Queen of England when in Scotland and royal residence dating back to the 16^th C.

It was quite impressive. The rooms were fairly lavish and it was pretty neat to see where the Queen still has her dinners and get together when she is in town. I’m no monarchist, but I am Canadian and there is a certain interest or awareness of the Queen that is ingrained.

It was especially interesting to see Mary Queen of Scots’ bed chamber where the pregnant queen was forced to watch as her husband killed her secretary/secret lover. Historical drama! Tiny Beds!

We visited the remains of the abbey.

The grounds of the palace were especially lovely.

From there we went for a much slower stroll, stopping to check out lanes and views, and finally, to stop for a proper tea.

Fueled with caffeine and scones, we walked up Calton Hill for views over the city. The views were somewhat marred by the unfortunate angle of the sun at that time of day (morning would have been better), but the walk up was great and we chatted with a local man in his 70s who walks up the hill daily and had choice words for both Donald Trump and Theresa May.

We spent a while on the hill just enjoying the breeze and shade with a cigar and a couple of books.

After that we just ambled slowly and in a round about way back to our home, stopping to visit the Greyfriars Kirkyard and Kirk that I saw the day before and the café where J.K. Rowling apparently wrote much of Harry Potter. (Harry Potter has become a real claim to fame for Scotland. Take that, Robert Burns!)

There is so much more to do in Edinburgh, but we just wanted to be a bit more relaxed in our pace and decided we could skip museums and galleries.

What we couldn’t skip was browsing around Armstrong & Son’s vintage clothing shop, which itself has been in business since about 1840. It was a delight, though we both walked away empty handed.

We packed in it early that night as the next day we had an early train to catch heading south. I loved Edinburgh, could easily see myself living there, and looked forward to returning at the end of our jaunt.

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An Afternoon in London, Or ‘How Solo Travel Has Made Me A Bit Of A Jerk’

Scotland wasn’t on my travel list. It looked lovely, but these days I crave destinations that are more far-flung and a little dangerous maybe. I can’t stand it when I tell people where I am going and they have their own suggestions. “Oh you must go to this restaurant.” Et cetera. Scotland was one of those destinations. Plus, as of writing, it isn’t an independent country, so I don’t even get the satisfaction of going to a new country. Not that that is the reason I travel, but I do like lists.

So when I said to my mother, “Would you like to take another international trip with me?” and she said “Scotland” I was fine with it, but not excited. I stifled the urge to say something like, “What about Algeria? Or Bangladesh?” Instead I got to planning.

Scotland actually has a lot of charming places, green walks, and oodles of castles. It is historic and picturesque. Choosing the right places for a 9 day trip was tough. In the end we didn’t want to spend too much time traveling all over the country, so I just picked a few destinations: a day’s layover in London, a few days in Edinburgh, a day or two in Wigtown, to Stirling, and a day trip to Glasgow.

My mum and I hadn’t traveled together since we went to Peru about 4 years prior and I hadn’t traveled with anyone since. I’m not going to lie: traveling with someone is more difficult for me than traveling solo. There are discussions. Constant discussions. Discussions about where and when to eat, where to walk, when to stop, which train to take, et cetera. Mercifully, my mother pretty much defers to what I want to do, but out of the need to be (or to appear to be) considerate, there are discussions that must be had.

The first of those discussions happened when we had our layover in London. I’ve been to London. I lived there. But Luba (my mother) had not, so I was excited to show her around the places I used to work and hang out.

I planned a walk around some of the main sights. We got a bit into the walk, though St. James Park, past Buckingham Palace, down the Mall, through Trafalgar Square, to Covent Garden and Soho, and there were plans for more, but we ran out of steam. She hadn’t slept on the plane (a red eye flight from Vancouver) and, while I had, I was tired and cranky. Then it started to rain.

Weirdly happy to see these phone box sex adverts are still a thing.
I remember them from the 90s – back when people still used pay phones

We went to a cute little patisserie in Soho, unable to agree where to go next. If I were alone, I would have kept walking, ceaselessly, until it was time to go to the airport, but Luba wasn’t up for that. Neither of us wanted to go back to the airport early, and the rain didn’t want us to sit in a park or on a patio. Day one and we were on the verge of a quarrel. This does not happen when you travel alone.

But then the perfect solution struck me. What is my solace and comfort? My favorite way to pass a quiet and contemplative time? Cigars. I said, “Well, we could walk over to St. James Street and go to the Dunhill cigar lounge. I could smoke and you could read.” Success! We were both happy. As we walked there the clouds parted. I had an extraordinary limited edition Bolivar and Luba read her book.

Both restored, we went for a bit of a circuitous stroll before going back to the airport.

In the end, we didn’t stick to my plan and cover all of the ground in London that I would have had I been alone, but I got to show my mother a bit of London and we ended up having a nice afternoon.

Solo travel has taught me a lot: how to be strong and self-reliant, how to be content with my own company, how to meet people, and how to constantly step out of my comfort zone. But solo travel has also made me a bit selfish, resistant to compromise, and bossy. I want to do what I want to do. I’m not proud of those things, but I am pleased that I can set them aside (more or less) to still enjoy traveling with my mum.

We went back to the airport and took a short and sleepy flight to Edinburgh.

Peru South America

Final Day in Iquitos

The day we left Peru we did not fly out until the evening, so there was still one final day to enjoy. After luxuriating in our wonderful hotel room and breakfast buffet, i set out to the Pilpintuwasi Butterfly Farm and animal rescue. To get there i took a 4 Sole tuk tuk ride from the hotel to Bella Vista-Nanay, a nearby town along a tributary of the Amazon. It had started to rain, so when i was dropped off at the muddy market along the river, i waited out the rain at a floating cafe and watched the boats depart.

I then found a boat heading to Padre Cocha, the village where my destination was located. I had been told that a boat would cost 20-30 Soles, but the going rate seemed to be 3, which suited me just fine. I got on a simple boat with a thatched roof and run by a rickety motor. I was the only tourist on the boat which was mostly filled with locals and items going to or from market. The trip wasn’t very long, but suddenly seemed to take forever when water began entering the boat and a couple of people had to pitch in, bailing water with buckets. This made me nervous, but we were always swimming distance from shore and i just tried to put giant Amazonian fish out of my mind. No one else seemed too concerned.

We arrived and i landed in the village. There were no signs, but the place wasn’t very big, so i just started walking, figuring that i would find a sign at some point. I walked past the simple houses, which were not on stilts, due to the village being elevated somewhat from the river. It was a pretty, sleepy little place and the few people i asked about the butterfly farm seemed to have no idea what i walk talking about, despite my passable Spanish and excellent butterfly charades.

Finally, i saw a sign, or rather, a series of signs, leading me along an increasingly tropical and beautiful jungle path.

I headed back by boat to Bella Vista-Nanay (this time suffering not a near sinking but an engine that regularly cut out and left us adrift), where i spent sometime at the market, ogling the giant grubs being grilled up for snacks (and being thankful of my vegetarianism).

We flew out that night, from Iquitos to Lima, Lima to Los Angeles, and Los Angeles to Vancouver. We even got upgraded to business class on one leg of the trip. The business class seats were entirely unbooked i guess and in some weird, racist airline policy, the only white people on the flight got bumped up. One couple, with a white woman and her Mexican partner, found that only she was offered an upgrade. I can’t support the policy, but i did not decline the upgrade. I’d never pay for first or business class, but it really is better.
I wish i didn’t know that.

And that was it for Peru. I am happy with the trip. I did everything I wanted to do and didn’t feel rushed. There is always more to see, but i am happy with our choices. I think I am done with South America for a while, but this was a great trip. Home now and time to start daydreaming about the next destination.

Peru South America

The Village in the Peruvian Amazon

Our third and final day at the Tahuayo Lodge in the Amazon was only a half day, as we were scheduled to go back to Iquitos by boat in the afternoon. After breakfast we took a boat downriver to a nearby village, nicknamed Los Chinos, for reasons i couldn’t really determine. The village was simple. Huts with thatched palm roofs and many sitting on stilts were located around a central field along the river and on the edge of the forest. The houses were very simple and were open at the sides. Few had walls, or had only half walls.

One man invited us into his home. It had a single room which served as living room, kitchen, etc. and then a separate area as a bedroom for him and his family. It was very simple and completely open. on the fire freshly caught river fish were grilling.

Most houses did not appear to have electricity, but some central, shared buildings had wires and satellite dishes and there was a public phone outside under a palm shelter on a wooden stand.

We spoke with (through our guide) a woman who was picking tropical fruit which could be used as both a medicine and a pigment.

Then it started to rain, gently at first and i naively said it was not a problem. Then it became a torrential, tropical downpour so heavy that it was blinding. We took shelter under an outdoor but covered area where a couple of women were cooking lunch for the whole school of kids. They had a fire going and were making fish, rice, and spaghetti. We warmed and dried ourselves by the fire (a smell, as it turned out, we would wear for the rest of the trip) and then pitched in helping with lunch. It was a marvelous way to wait out the rain until it was time to head out on the boat.

We said good bye to the lodge and sped back to Iquitos in the rain (this time taking half the time as it had to get there). We returned to the Casa Morey hotel where we found we had been upgraded. Our previous room was huge and more than adequate, but this room was so grand that we simply giggled upon entering. It was easily bigger than the main floor of Betty-Lou’s house and was many times bigger than my apartment. It had three big beds, 20 foot ceilings, and giant french door type windows that opened up with views of the Amazon and the city. There was a sitting room and a giant bathroom with an antique tub, and outside was another sitting area looking down on the pool. The hot shower was the best thing i could have imagined.

Peru South America

The Peruvian Amazon

Day two in the Peruvian Amazon began early – before dawn – so I could go on a bird watching trip. Full disclosure: I hate bird watching. It’s super boring in my opinion, but this was to be from a small boat on the Amazon, which sounded better than my last experience, which was standing in a wooden tower with binoculars.

The boat ride was lovely. The air was wonderful and the scenery was spectacular in the morning light. And yeah, we saw birds. It was a nice trip though I still am not excited by spotting a scarlet tanager, or whatever, high in a tree.

We returned to the lodge for breakfast, followed by a jungle walk that three of us and two guides went on. We walked for a couple hours, sometimes on pseudo paths and sometimes cutting our way through the trees with a machete. In some areas we were sucked into mid-calf-deep mud and in others we walked precariously along slippery logs. It was fun.

We did see some wildlife: a tree rat, some monkeys, a lizard, a millipede, and more frogs.

After our hike we relaxed at the lodge for a couple of hours, which of course meant that i lounged in a chair by the river with a couple of cigars. Then a group of us and several guides went out on a boat in search of the Amazonian pink dolphin. I was huge cynic setting out on this boat ride: sure, what were the chances that we would see the rare pink dolphin? Not bloody likely, but it’s nice to go on the boat. We set out and we saw a sloth high in a tree, a ton more birds, and some sleeping bats. The scenery was pretty. We traveled past some villages where people were visible along the shore, bathing and doing laundry, and the air was pleasant with the breeze from the boat.

And then, we saw them. Unexpectedly, slivers of bright pink started to appear around the boat. At least two and maybe four pink dolphins. It was quite exciting. I have no pictures to prove it because it was impossible to know when and where they would surface and the one picture i have where one is visible is so blurry that it looks like a grainy loch ness monster photo from the 1920s. But we saw them and it was pretty cool.

We opted out of a nighttime activity and Betty-Lou and i stayed in the lodge that night to play some cards before killing a hoard of cockroaches and going to bed. It was a very full day.

Wandering North

Tag: mother daughter travel

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The Village in the Peruvian Amazon

The Peruvian Amazon