Welcome to the Jungle

Cliché, I know, but it was better than “In the Jungle, the Mighty Jungle.” 

We are back in La Paz after our week in the Amazon and I don’t have enough superlatives to describe it. It was awesome, in every sense of the word. 

The excitement started before we even left La Paz, when we were boarding the tiniest plane I have ever been on. There was room for 15 passengers, no crew, no bathroom and even I had to hunch over to walk down the aisle. It even had propellers!

We were sitting in the first row, about a meter from the cockpit, which was open. We were so close that I could actually see through the windshield of the plane.  

 As we took off, there were random beeps coming from the cockpit, like the heart monitor of someone who clearly isn’t going to make it. Occasionally, the monitor would flat line with a long booooooop, causing my blood pressure to sky rocket.

 

Our landing was even more stressful than the take-off. The flight only lasted 45 minutes, so by the time we leveled out, we immediately started our descent. And what a descent it was. The runway at the Rurrenabaque airport is right after a low mountain chain, so the pilot started down straight towards the mountains, barely clearing the top (I could see the individual leaves of the trees we were flying over) before practically nose-diving onto the runway, which turns to dirt after about 100 meters. To give you an idea of what kind of airport Rurrenabaque has, here are a few pictures:

Rurrenabaque Airport

 

The airport bathroom. No automatic flush here...

Rurrenabaque is a nice little river town on the Rio Beni, and acts as a jumping-off point to go into Madidi Park, which is a protected area of the Amazon. We spent five days and four nights in the jungle, first on a tour of the swamp called the Pampa, then in the jungle itself. 

Our tour of the Pampa started with a three hour car ride on a dirt road to another little river town in the Pampa. After the car ride was a three hour boat ride to our lodge, up the river in a motorized boat that was basically an over-sized canoe. 

Now, in case you are imagining a luxurious lodge in a jungle paradise, let’s be clear: this was no hotel. Our lodge was extremely basic: built on stilts over the water with rotting floor boards, cold river-water (albeit filtered) showers, electricity that shut off at 9pm, dorm lodging on thin mattresses with torn mosquito netting, outdoor toilets that you had to walk on narrow planks over swamp water to get to. It was impressive and humbling to be staying in the jungle, watching monkeys play in the trees around us, of course.  But it certainly wasn’t comfortable.

Home sweet home

During our tour, we did various activities, always with the goal of seeing wildlife. While we saw a lot of different animals and birds, we couldn’t help but feel like the experience was not very authentic or ecologically sound. The whole thing was very superficial, like everyone just paid to come sleep in the jungle, take a few pictures of alligators and go home, without learning anything about the place they were in. Our favorite parts of the Pampa were the times when we were just on the boat, checking out the scenery, or hanging out with our tour group, whom we loved.

Playing soccer at sunset in the swamp.

Howler monkey outside our lodge

Squirrel monkeys

The next three days of our jungle tour were everything we had wanted and didn’t get from the Pampa. Our accommodation was even more basic than in the Pampa- we didn’t even have electricity, and ate and played cards at night by candlelight. The tour, however, was much more educational, active and interesting. Every day, we went walking in the jungle and learned about various plants and animals from our guide, who was from a local village, had been a guide in the park for 16 years and who was impressively knowledgeable. We really got the impression that he loved what he did and cared immensely about the jungle. We saw tons of animals and birds, but more importantly and interestingly, we learned a lot about the different medicinal and fruitful plants that grow in the Amazon. Some were fatally poisonous, others naturally healing, and others simply useful, like a tree whose branches hold and filter water. The guide cut a branch off the tree and we were able to drink directly from the cut wood like a canteen.

And of course, just walking in and seeing and hearing the jungle was one of the most amazing things I have ever done. The jungle is forbidding, yet fruitful; uncomfortable, yet enticing. It was hot, humid and buggy, with every insect and plant that could cause you pain or death. It was also lush and giving and strikingly beautiful, with fresh fruits, and plants that could cure any ailment. Like I said, I don’t have enough words for how incredible it was.

Wild pigs, called Chonchos

In addition to walking, we also spent one morning hanging around the lodge, making jewelry from natural materials found in the jungle and playing in the camp. The highlight was making rings from coconuts, which will replace our wedding rings that we left back in France.

Making a bracelet for the cook's eight year old daughter (left)

Our new wedding rings

 

Our intimate jungle bungalow that we shared with eight other people

At the end of the three days, we took our boat back down the Rio Beni to Rurrenabaque and caught our tiny plane back to La Paz. We will hang out here for another day or two before heading to Lake Titicaca, where hopefully spending some time there will help me to stop giggling like a 14 year old every time I say its name. Hehehe, Titi-caca….

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The Road to La Paz

As previously mentioned, we got to La Paz via a 17 hour night bus from Santa Cruz. We had been told that the long distance buses were really comfortable, with air conditioning and bathrooms and, embarrassingly, we were naive enough to look forward to relaxing during the ride.

Well, once again, we were horribly mistaken. While, admittedly, the seats weren't too uncomfortable and sleep was possible, the bus was hot as hell (definitely no A/C) and the toilet was out of order. Let me just repeat that: no toilet. For 17 hours.

If you have spent any time with me, you know that I insist on being extremely well hydrated and as a result, I use the bathroom about once an hour. The realization that I had no access to a bathroom for that period of time was my personal hell. At first, I tried to bully the driver into letting me use the bathroom ("Solo urino!"), but he wasn't having it. Finally, I annoyed him enough that he pulled the bus over on the side of a dark highway and pointed me to the banos publicos, which was a dark shack with a hole in the floor run by an old Bolivian woman who insisted I pay her. When I told her my money was on the bus, which had kindly kept moving while I was in the bathroom, she told me to give her my shirt. I shook my finger at her and ran away, confident that she wouldn't catch me but scared nonetheless. After that experience, I stopped drinking water for the rest of the trip. In defense of the bus driver, he did stop for bathroom breaks. Twice. In 17 hours.

But in the end, the trip was worth it because La Paz is incredible. The city is built in a huge valley surrounded by mountains, with the houses practically built on top of each other, clinging to the valley walls. It's seriously breath-taking.

View of La Paz when entering the city

Downtown and the mountains beyond

What's also breath-taking is the altitude. At 13,300 feet, the altitude here is no joke. The first day here, V and I were both battling splitting headaches and were out of breath after even the smallest physical effort. Luckily, we were fine after the first day and were able to explore the city.

From what we saw, my conclusion about La Paz is that it is a city of extremes. One second you are surrounded in the street by women dressed in the traditional costume, bowler hat and all, or you see people selling the most random things on the street, like dried llama fetuses:

 

The next second someone's cell phone goes off and the ring tone is the latest Rihanna song. Every time we think we are in some third world backwater, we are smacked back into the modern world by something we would see or hear back at home.

What I also love about La Paz is that it is crazy and colorful; it's an extremely dynamic city with beauty to be found everywhere. The people are gorgeous and colorful and interesting to look at, the architecture is bizarre and different from block to block. It's frenetic and wild and we love it.

Tomorrow, we fly to Rurrenbaque to tour the Amazon, which we are so excited about. I won't have internet access for a week, but hopefully I'll have a badass blog post to show for it. Thanks in advance for your patience!

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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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