Santa Cruz to Samaipata

Tomorrow will mark a week exactly that we have been in Bolivia, although it feels like it's been twice that. Since we arrived last Thursday, we have been to Santa Cruz, then to Samaipata, back to Santa Cruz and then to La Paz. And it's been amazing so far. Ups and downs, of course, but overall, it has been an incredible experience.

I'll jump right into it and will try not to be too long-winded (which, as you know, is super hard for me...).

From Santa Cruz, we took a shared taxi up into the mountains to Samaipata, which is a small village about 2 and a half hours from Santa Cruz.

We shared the taxi with two Bolivian men and one random kid who didn't seem to belong to anyone and sat on the arm rest between the driver and the front passenger. The cab ride was our first real taste of the terrifying transportation we will face on the trip. The road was narrow and curvy, and abruptly turned to gravel at some parts. The driver had apparently been taught to deal with the gravel bits by accelerating like a maniac on them. The road was lined with memorial crosses, ambling donkeys, stray dogs (they are EVERYWHERE here) and cows.

Our driver wasn't the only insane one on the road and as a result of other crazies trying to pass slower (read, sane) vehicles, we nearly had a head on collision three times. By the end of the trip, I was covering my eyes in fear. Even Vincent was scared:

While Samaipata is at 1600m altitude, it is still quite tropical and the weather was gorgeous, barring a few afternoon showers. In Samaipata, we stayed in a wonderful B&B called Posada del Sol, where we had stunning views from our balcony, a gorgeous garden to lounge in and incredible food. It was paradise. We, however, were nowhere near classy enough for the place. To give you an idea of our low-class backpacker style, here's us with our makeshift wine glasses on our balcony:

While we were in Samaipata, we explored the village, which had a cute little market.

 

We also did a lot of walking and went on two pretty serious hikes. The first was to some pre-Incan ruins about 5 miles from the village. The walk going there was beautiful and the ruins were really interesting.

However, while we were at the ruins, the heavens opened up and torrential rains started pouring down. We first took shelter under a viewing platform but when we realized that the rain wasn't giving up any time soon,  we just bit the bullet and finished the tour, getting soaked in the process:

Being wet didn't bother us too much, however neither of us were keen on walking back the 5 miles down to the village in wet shoes. We had the brilliant (not at all) idea of  hitching a ride with a micro bus that was leaving the ruins. While that saved us the walk, we quickly realized how unsafe it was. The road we walked up to the ruins was a beautiful, steep, winding dirt road that was a gorgeous red clay color. On the way down, however, it had been transformed by the rain into a slippery, rutted, washed out death trap. The bus slid on the mud going down and I was terrified that we would slide right off the road, down the cliff. While it was a horrible experience, it taught us the important lesson that bad roads are not to be messed with, and we'll keep that in mind for future adventures.

Our second hike was less eventful. Here are a couple pictures, but there's not a lot to say except that it was very awesome, if a little long (6 hours of hiking).

Vincent stood on an anthill while taking pictures and got attacked!

We also celebrated New Year's Eve in Samaipata with a meal at our posada, live local music and a million fireworks at midnight. It was a really cool experience, and fun to celebrate with a bunch of strangers from all over the world. One of the musicians that we talked to had rode his bike from Colorado to Bolivia and once tried to swim the Missouri river from Kansas City to St. Louis!

Partying on a dirt road under a display of fireworks.

When it was time to leave Samaipata, we went down to the main road to catch a shared taxi back to Santa Cruz to catch our bus to La Paz (our 17 hour bus, but that's another post entirely). While waiting for our taxi, a bus marked Santa Cruz stopped in front of us and we decided to get on it. We threw our bags in the baggage hold and hopped aboard. Our first realization was that this was no tourist bus- we were the only gringos on board. The second realization was that there were no more seats left on the bus for the three hour trip. It was then that we noticed a few little plastic foot stools in the aisle of the bus: our seats.

Vincent on his stool- a giant gringo in the middle of the locals

Notice the screaming baby next to me....

We were far too amused with the situation to be miserable, and the trip passed with nothing more eventful than a sore back.

Final thoughts after our first week here: Bolivia is incredible and amazingly authentic. While there is a thriving tourist industry, we have the impression that most mainstream tourists don't come here and for the most part, the locals are either indifferent to us or very kind. We haven't felt harassed at all. It is a beautiful country, extremely varied in its geography. I will write much more about that in my next post, which will also cover our loooong bus ride and our time in La Paz. My posts will be sporadic, depending on our internet access, but I'll do my best to post often enough that I can avoid marathon posts like this one.

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Ball-ivia

So, after approximately 13 hours in Bolivia, I know what the Spanish word is for testicles. It's criadillas. Could've done without that helpful lesson so early in the trip, but there it is.

But let me back up- maybe I should start with our arrival in Bolivia. Actually, I'll start with our departure from the States. We left my parent's place yesterday, saying our goodbyes and using our backpacks for the first time. Here's us right before we left, with our gear on our backs, looking super dorky.

We flew into Santa Cruz this morning on an uneventful flight from Miami (the most eventful thing that happened is that I got sick, but I always get sick, so it's hardly worth mentioning). As we flew overnight and didn't get a ton of sleep on the plane, we went straight to our hotel room (yes, I said hotel. I'll explain in a second) to rest. We were able to check in early, take hot showers and pass out for a few hours, which we desperately needed to recharge our batteries before exploring Santa Cruz. The plan wasn't always to have a nice hotel. We actually had booked a hostel for tonight, but I had some airline miles that were about to expire, so we decided to use them for a comfortable hotel to start our trip off right.

We spent the afternoon exploring Santa Cruz, which, in all honesty, was not that exciting. There is little to see in the city, so we just wandered through the streets and people watched. One of the cooler things we saw was this nativity scene, where the wise men are bringing baby Jesus corn instead of frankincense and myrrh. Personally, I'd prefer to be the Bolivian baby Jesus; frankincense just doesn't sound that tasty...

And here's my favorite wise man, who looks pretty pissed that he only brought one ear of corn while his buddies both brought whole baskets full. Embarrassing...

We also found some good stuff to eat. We tried chicha, a drink made from fermented corn, which is sweet and milky and delicious. We then had some surprisingly good fried chicken and rice, which, in addition to two pints of beer each, set us back a whopping $4 a person. Bolivia is ridiculously inexpensive when you go to the right places.

However, when you go to the wrong places, you end up eating bull testicles that cost twice as much as the fried chicken. Which is exactly what we did this evening.

When we were walking today, we saw an adorable restaurant with a veranda and a band playing tonight. When we returned this evening and sat down, we realized that the restaurant was pretty expensive by Bolivian standards. In order to keep to our budget, we ordered the cheapest main course: los criadillas de toro. The way the name of the dish was handwritten on the menu, it looked to us like griadillas, which looked like the French word grillade. We thought we were ordering grilled bull steak. Boy, were we wrong... The realization that we were clearly eating something we would later regret, coupled with the music from the band, which ended up being terrible, ended our day on a lower note than we would have liked.

So here we are after our first day on the trip, burping up bull balls, but still pretty happy and excited about what's next. We head to Samaipata tomorrow and will spend three nights there. We've read that it is beautiful, with tons of hiking trails through the mountains. I think tomorrow we will feel a little more like we are in Bolivia. Santa Cruz is very tropical and hot, so we feel like we are in Mexico, rather than the cold, high-altitude Bolivia that we've read so much about. Can't wait to see what the rest of the country is like, bull balls and all!

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'Twas the night before...

Well, tomorrow is the day.

After a month straight of visiting family and friends before our departure, we are finally leaving tomorrow to start the trip. In 24 hours, we will be on the plane to Santa Cruz, Bolivia, with nothing but a backpack and a plane ticket going everywhere but home. Crazy.

For the past few weeks, we have been asked, "Are you so excited?" by everyone we see. Those sweet, caring souls are always disappointed by our answer:

No, not really.

We aren't so excited. We want to be, believe me. But we just aren't.

It's not as if we don't want to go, it's simply that it still hasn't hit us that we are actually going. It feels like we are leaving for a vacation or a short trip and that we'll be back in a week or so. I don't think either of us realize that we are actually leaving for a year. Backpacking around the world. Realizing a dream. Finally embarking on an adventure that we have been planning for over a year.

I hope to document our experience as much as possible the first few days, as we start to realize what we are doing. I'm curious to see how we will react and when it will actually hit us. I also can't wait to start writing about our travels, rather than the trip preparation. We've been planning this for 14 months and it's finally here.

Oh my god, we leave tomorrow!

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Testing our goods

Spoiler alert: I froze my a-- off and I hate my pants.

Today V and I went for a hike up the Luberon mountains in southern France and took the opportunity to equip ourselves solely with the gear we are bringing on the trip. The idea was to test our clothes, shoes and day packs at low altitude in the sun at the start of the hike and then later at a higher altitude where it would be much colder.

We both wore multiple layers and brought even more in our day packs (along with our awesome picnic lunch of pasta salad and juice boxes). I wore one of my two t-shirts, one of my two long sleeve shirts, a light weight zip-neck long sleeve shirt, my convertible pants, heavy hiking socks and my heaviest walking shoes, bandanas around my head and neck, and sunglasses (and a bra and undies, but we don't need to go into those details, do we?). In my day pack were a scarf, a micro-fleece and my rain jacket/ wind-breaker. If you are really interested in all of this stuff, go back to this post to see pictures of each item.

As we started up the mountain on our hike, it was sunny and around 55 degrees. About ten minutes into the hike came my first discovery: I hate my pants. My convertible pants for the trip, besides making me look like a total dude, have no stretch in them and are frankly too tight to comfortably hike in. I had tried on a larger pair at the store and they were too baggy, so I went a size down. Seeing how unhappy I was with the pants after only five hours of hiking, I certainly don't want to be stuck with them for a year. I'm now on the look out in the next three weeks for new pants.

So, on up the mountain we went. As we reached the top, a massive wind swept over the summit and clouds rolled in from the other side of the range, covering the sun. The temperature dropped from 50 degrees to probably around 35, maybe lower with the wind chill. This is where I made a huge mistake and my second discovery. To combat the cooler temperature, I added the rest of my layers, except the scarf. Those five layers of technical, carefully chosen tops should have kept me warm in 30 degree weather. The problem was that my sports bra and t-shirt were humid from my sweating (I know, I'm such a lady) during the ascent, so regardless of the extra layers, I was still cold.

At the summit, V and I took shelter from the wind and had our picnic. The combination of my wet base layers and no longer moving pushed my discomfort to another level: I was freeeeezing. I complained enough in between sips from my juice box to make V hurry up so we could get moving again. To my dismay, V kept stopping to take pictures of the view as I danced around and hugged myself like a crazy person, trying to warm up.

Me on the summit, hating everything.

Finally, after walking a bit more and giving my shirt time to dry, I started warming up, but not before learning a seriously valuable lesson: if base layers are humid in cold weather, TAKE THEM OFF. I would have been far, far warmer without my t-shirt under my heavier layers than with it wet. While I suffered a bit today, I'm so glad I figured that out before I find myself at 12,000 feet in Bolivia with a wet t-shirt.

At the end of the day, we had a great hike and are both feeling good about the gear we are bringing on the trip. So I'll leave you with a picture of us, feelin' good:

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Buh-bye Switzerland

Well, that's done.

We have finally moved out of our apartment and have officially left Switzerland. After more than a week straight of packing, moving, cleaning and traveling (we are currently in southern France at V's dad's house), I am too exhausted to write anything clever or profound.

It has not hit us at all that we have actually left and no longer have a home- it still feels like we are on vacation and will go back in a few days. I doubt we will realize that we aren't going back until we are packing our backpacks and flying to the States.

Even when we left the apartment for the last time, we weren't that emotional, simply because it hadn't hit us. We were a little sad, but it was more like, "Bye dude, it's been great," than, "Waaaaaaaah!!!" We were both so tired and stressed from the move that there was little room for much else emotionally. Here's an idea of how we felt during our last 30 seconds in our empty apartment, where we spent three wonderful, cozy, comfortable years in a place we loved:

Bye, Switzerland, it's been great...

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Weepy and Weird

I'll start with the bad news: this post might be a downer. Things are getting pretty emotional over here and I don't even have a hilarious Vincent picture to make it better.

At least there is some good news: this post won't be quite as long as the last one. I've gotten the ranting out of my system. At least for now....

These last few weeks have been much harder than I imagined. We are in full-on moving mode: packing up everything in our apartment, finalizing the administrative stuff and saying our good-byes, one by one.

The good-byes are the hardest because it feels like everything is a goodbye. Our last trip to Geneva, the last time we see certain friends here, the last fondue in front of the fireplace, our last hike in the Jura. As the clock counts down (10 more days!), nearly everything we do is a "last."

We've both moved enough in the last ten years that we should be jaded and immune to it all by now, but unfortunately for my tear ducts, that's not the case.

Leaving Switzerland is really, really hard for both of us, especially me. Part of it is that we love living here and will miss it, but I suspect the real reason it is so difficult to say goodbye is because Switzerland was the first time Vincent and I were able to actually start our life together as a couple. We had moved around so much and been apart for so long before moving here that it felt like our little haven where we could finally be together and build our future. Leaving Switzerland feels like we are saying goodbye to those wonderful memories of being a newly married couple embarking on a new adventure together.

The trip of course is another adventure altogether. It's totally cheesy, but it really feels like we are closing one chapter of our lives and opening a new one.

But this in-between phase is seriously wearing on us. I have been randomly bursting into tears on a nearly daily basis, which is exhausting for poor Vincent and straight up embarrassing for me. Today, we said goodbye to our friends Michael and Celine (Salut les Auvergnats!), and as soon as we were out of their sight, I dissolved into a blubbering mess. It wasn't that I can't go a year without seeing people I care about- I'm pretty used to that by now. What made me cry- and still makes me cry when I think about it- was the feeling that we are ending a phase of our lives that has been so important and formative and enjoyable, and we have no idea what to expect from the next phase.

This coming week will present even more goodbyes- to the rest of our friends, to my car (my poor little Clio, sniff sniff...), and lastly, to Gingins and our apartment. Needless to say, I expect to be an emotional disaster in the coming days.

And speaking of disaster- this is the state our sweet, innocent apartment is currently in due to our packing efforts:

 

If you've never seen our apartment, we don't normally live like animals.... In fact, here's an idea of what our place usually looks like.

Awww man, I'm going to miss our apartment....

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Obligatory anti-materialism post

So here it is, my rant against consumerism (conveniently posted before I reveal just how much this trip will cost us...). Brace yourself, this might get ugly...

I assume that anyone who willingly restricts their belongings to what will fit into a backpack for a year goes through some realization during their trip that they normally live with much more than they actually need. I expected to go through that well into the trip, during that freeing moment when my pathetically limited choice of clothing stops being a restriction and starts being a form of liberation. I certainly didn't expect to feel this way before we even left.

We are currently preparing ourselves for the move out of our apartment and part of that process has been going through everything we own and trying to get rid of what we can. Now, I will give us a little credit here: both V and I are really good about minimizing clutter. Neither of us are packrats by any means and for the most part, we don't let ourselves get emotionally attached to material things. If you look around our apartment, we don't have a lot of random objects that just sit on shelves or in drawers in that purgatory of being kept "just in case." You know what I'm talking about- that drawer everyone has full of pens that no longer work, batteries that may or may not be dead, broken jewelry or dishes that you plan to repair one day, little trinkets that people have brought you back from vacation... Generally, we are pretty good about getting rid of that kind of stuff.

That said, going through all of my belongings this past weekend made me realize that I have SO much stuff, and that I don't need or even want the vast majority of it. That realization and the ensuing purging of said stuff was both freeing and depressing.

The act of giving away a bunch of my clothes, shoes and beauty products- all of the random things I've accumulated over the years- felt so liberating. I feel lighter, more streamlined, and feel like I can see what I have more clearly and actually appreciate my belongings. I gave away or donated (or, in the case of old t-shirts and undies, simply threw out) five huge bags of stuff that I don't need, use or want. Don't believe me? These are just the "give away" bags:

And these are all of the beauty products that I've barely used and jewelry that I never wear.

All of those bottles, boxes and tubes are completely FULL.

Why it took me this long to get rid of all of this crap and why I even had it in the first place is beyond me.

Which brings me to the depressing side of my epiphany.

As I went through my stuff-- shoes that were too uncomfortable to wear, jeans that had been too big for four years (thank you, active Swiss lifestyle) but that I had kept just in case the chunk came back, perfume and make-up that I had bought just because I was bored-- I was forced to acknowledge that I had made some pretty terrible choices as both a consumer and an owner of goods. I had several items of clothing that I had worn maybe once but that I had never been able to bring myself to get rid of  just in case I wanted to wear them again. I had half-empty bottles of lotion, perfume and make-up that I was always saving for a special occasion and that had since gone bad. I had, and this is where it really got difficult, tons of clothes, accessories and jewelry that people had given me as gifts and that I didn't actually like or use but felt bad about giving away.

I realized that all of it- the clothes, the products, the gifts- weighed on me. They distracted me and took space, time and energy away from the things I had that I actually liked. Every morning when I got ready for the day, I would open my closet and have to mentally separate the wearable from the unwearable. Then I'd sort through the jewelry that I never used to find the pieces that I actually liked. Then I'd have to push aside mostly empty bottles of old lotion to get to the one that had something in it. I never realized just how much energy that took until I didn't have to do it anymore. It feels incredible.

Decidedly less incredible was the process of actually sorting through it all- note my dejection as I realized just how much crap we had:

Going through the contents of our bathroom cabinet and hating life.

During the course of my purging, I also separated the clothes that I will need in the coming weeks before the trip from those that can go directly into storage until we get back. I grabbed around 25 of my favorite pieces from which I will choose to clothe myself for the next two months. It will take some creativity to mix things up and not wear the same five outfits every week, however I'd rather be challenged to get the most out of what I have rather than keep more than I need. Just opening my closet and only seeing the things that I love to wear has turned me into a born-again minimalist.

The point of all of this is that I want to learn from this experience and remember how this feels so that when we come back from the trip, I will change my consuming habits. Granted, I still love clothes and make-up and don't plan to become a hunter gatherer or anything, but I can make small changes to become a more discerning buyer so that everything I acquire actually goes to use.

I promise I'm wrapping this up, but at the risk of sounding even more like a sanctimonious a-hole, I want to end this with a quick round-up of the needless waste that made me feel the worst, the goal being that I can read this later and not make the same mistakes.

Of all of the things I got rid of, the following made me hate myself the most:

• A massive amount of half-empty bottles of beauty products, make-up compacts, boxes of medicine, etc. I was horrified to actually have to look at the pile of stuff that was going to waste just because I didn't finish a product before buying a replacement or because I had been saving a product for special occasions and then forgotten about it completely. And I want to share my horror with you:

It looks innocent enough, but let me assure you, that pile was taking over my bathroom floor.

• A trash bag full of cheap clothes. While I put aside a few bags of nicer things to give to friends, I still had a full bag of clothes that were of such poor quality that I was embarrassed to offer them to people I knew because they looked like hell after one or two wears. It's too easy to go into one of those cheap stores (I'm looking at you, H&M) and buy a bunch of crap I don't need simply because it doesn't cost much. In the end, I can't get much use out of what I bought because it falls apart easily or fits poorly, making it much worse of a deal in the long run than a more expensive, quality item that I wear all the time. Ditto for sale items that I would never buy at full price but that I just can't pass up because it's such a good deal! Cost per use and quality over quantity are my new mottoes.

• Travel products taken from business hotels. Now, I love an adorable miniature shoe shine sponge as much as the next gal, but seriously, do I really need four (FOUR!) gallon-sized ziploc bags of hotel shampoos, shower gels, and the like? Of course not. I'm lucky enough to be able to afford shampoo, and chances are, so are you, so believe me when I say that it is not worth it. Not only is it a waste when you don't use them, but even if you do, the amount of plastic that goes towards producing those cute little bottles is heartbreaking.

• Gifts. This one really makes me feel like an a-hole, but if I want to be honest about what I've learned, I need to address it. If you are someone who may need to give me a gift in the future, please don't. I'm serious. From now on, please, if you absolutely must give me something, make it consumable, i.e. edible, drinkable or able to fit in an envelope. No more things, I'm begging you. I am picky to the point that I can hardly buy for myself, so it is an exercise in futility for others to try to pick something out for me. Of course, I appreciate the thought and generosity, but 9 times out of 10, the gifts I receive sit in the back of my closet, jewelry box or drawer of batteries until I give it away. I realize just how awful that sounded, but if it saves even one person I care about from wasting money on a gift I will never use, it will be worth it.

So there they are, my life lessons learned from one weekend of clearing out our apartment. I can't even imagine how enlightened I'll be by the end of this trip. Step aside, Buddha.

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