jhubbel

For anyone who has ever wished to really visit the Amazon, I might first advise that you read the book Adventures of an Amazon Guide by Paul Beaver, PhD, and then seriously consider using his outfit, Amazonia Expeditions, which was the first, and to my mind, remains the most authentic of the experiences offered on the river. However, if you seek to be comfortable, coddled, cooled, don't choose them. Theirs is the real deal, the authentic experience. I sought them out for just this, that's what I got and I am a huge fan. Paul has led more than one hundred expeditions in the jungle and now lives in Tampa with his native born wife Dolly, Dolly's niece now manages the operation in Iquitos. I love many things about AE, not the least of which they were the very first to hire female guides, and even fired men who refused to work with them. I was fortunate enough to get paired with Nelly, a 26 yo top guide who was my partner in crime for eight days in the flooded rain forest. I spent four days in the main Tahuaya River Lodge then another four in the more distant Research Center. There are advantages to both, but the farther location offers more wildlife, and to my mind, better opportunities to see everything. Either location has its charms. The RC has shared bathrooms, but there is no fan, no a/c, the weather is the weather, and that's how it should be out here.

jhubbel

Upon arriving the first day I sat down at the dining room table and was approached by a woman three years my senior who had heard me mention I was from her home state. She went on to start complaining that during the day her iPhone had been dunked in the water in her backpack, and she was furious about it, and among other things, now she couldn't listen to her audio book about Macchu Piccho.

Those who know me, know what's coming. My first question, asked as kindly as I could, was what was she doing with and iPhone (in a very hostile environment, during rainy season, in a no waterproof backpack, in a low slung canoe that is tipsy by nature, without being inside a protective waterproof cover, and it wasn't insured, I could go on and on). She got furious with me. "More could have been done, " she said in a huff, and marched away. Down the table she continued to complain loudly.

As a journalist, I couldn't let this go. I asked around, got the skinny.. Apparently the canoe was left as people went to go look at something.Some branches (and the forest being flooded, they are everywhere) probably knocked said backpack in the river). Well. You can make all kinds of arguments. But here's the rub folks, every single room has a perfectly safe, lockable, dry locker where such ridiculous non waterproof and totally frivolous technology that has no business in such a wicked enviornment such as the Amazon Basin can be kept. She chose not to use it. As the story went she went ballistic, yelling for the manager's name, demanding to be reimbursed.. She even called Paul Beaver in Tampa, who kindly, and quite rightfully, explained to her that this fell into the category of "s--t happens."

Rumor came back to me later that she threatened Paul that if he didn't reimburse her for the iPhone she would write on Trip Advisor that a staffer stole her iPhone. Well now. First, there isn't anyone out there who could use such a thing. Second. In order to sell it someone has to be able to afford the gas to boat it all the way back to Iquitos. Third, since the iPhone was soaked and damaged, who would buy it? It was such mean spirited behavior that I was taken aback. Basically, a serious of poor decisions made by someone ill prepared to come to a very epic place. The Amazon isn't Disney World. And you don't make someone else pay for your poor decisions. Now I don't know if she's going to write that report. I hope cooler heads prevail. However for my part, I promised to report this story in part because I found it both sad and amusing, and because it's instructive. If we insist on coming to the world's really epic and dangerous places, then we are responsible for what we bring. At the very least we should insure our expensive technology. I have lost some four good cameras and despite this, the very good people at World Nomads.com (HIGHLY RECOMMENDED) continue to tolerate me and replace my goodies. If you insist on going to the places I go I recommend investing in gear like Sea to Summit Dry Bags, which are worth their weight in gold, for they WILL keep your goodies dry, add just a big of weight, and a LOT of peace of mind. When I got tired of my fanny packs getting soaked on horseback rides I invested in a waterproof SAGE fly fishing backpack (Small) with a waterproof compartment. Good gear, good investments. Don't blame your gear loss on other people. Protect your stuff. Know where you are going. Know the conditions. The weather.

So this was my first impression of folks who visit AE. Others, happily, were better behaved.

jhubbel

Paul was responsive and helpful in my communications when planning this trip and he made sure I understood that late April would be VERY rainy. As it was, early April afforded few showers, although those that came were preceded by close, thick humidity and dense weather. With rare exception the primary mode of travel is canoe, and you have at your disoposal one very well educated and trained guide. Said guide, if you are as fortunate as I was might be Nelly. I have been with a lot of guides over the years but I've never had anyone whose ears and eyes were so attenuated to the most delicate sounds of the jungle, even over the boat motors. One can get better at spotting leaves moving, but her skills were an order of magnitude higher.

Each day we had a menu of options. The best, to my mind, we're getting out at 6 am and paddling the swamps. This meant loading up and paddling silently (you learned fast with the ginkgo leaf shaped paddle) to not splash. Monkeys, anteaters, raccoon like cousins, anything arboreal was hiding and eating in the early morning. There were all kinds of monkeys, and the trick was to not startle them. To sit still was to be eaten alive, and as I found most of the Amazon mosquitos found my typical repellant as attractive as body wash. They ate me alive,crawled under my glassed, into my ears. They also bit right through the polypro pants which were great for hiking but lousy for skeeter protection, and the light shirt got bloody. I learned to upgrade the repellant and use it all over.

jhubbel

These annoyances aside, the beauty of the walking figs, the massive trees whose long legs and roots created vast highways for bromeliads and their branches created entire systems for birds uncounted, well it was breathtaking. Each two hour morning paddle revealed some new creature, a tree rat with its handsome face, a pygmy marmoset so tiny I thought it was a puff ball, wonders in and of themselves. I rarely spotted these things myself. Only so often, a dark hole would appear, and we'd watch until a beak would emerge and then the woodpecker would shoot out.

After breakfast (and I might add here, the chef worked hard to please, and we ate regular and very good meals full of fresh fruit and vegetables, and often chicken with an unholy good tomato sauce which more than once caused me to ask for a second of rice just to eat the sauce) there was a second outing if one wanted. Depending on the day, you could zipline (thanks no) or canoe again. The wider river often gave views of monkeys and birdlife, great herons and brilliantly colored birds of all kinds.

Due to the heat, midday was rest time. We often headed back out around 2 or 3 pm, back into the shade of the lagoon, reaching into late afternoon as more animals became active. The real treat for me was nighttime, which came after dinner. At eight we'd load up and paddle around to light up the trees, and this would reveal all manner of night hunters. Nelly found a rare green tree boa- how she saw this in the brief flash of her headlamp, green against green in a split second I will never know- and spiders, scorpions, all kinds of creatures out to find their meals.

On several clear nights the Milky Way was so overwhelming that I simply lay back and let the boatman and Nelly paddle while I watched the stars move through the trees overhead.. The next night, they had set up the two cushions so that I could do it again but more comfortably. One night when we docked, Nelly spotted a brown tree boa under the pilings of our cottages, it was gorgeous as it coiled around the wood to get away from the lights. And of course, we found plenty of Tarantulas, including one pink footed version which decided to climb up Nelly's paddle, up over her hip, down the canoe and then we had to retrieve it and put it back on a nearby tree.

jhubbel

You can't be on an adventure trip like mine and not have something happen, and of course it did. I came down with one wicked infection, of the urinary tract variety, which is nothing that one wants to have in any case, and most certainly not when one is spending hours paddling around in a canoe in waters that might or might not be full of Piranas and anacondas and caimans. Given that, I did. By the third day, I confessed to Nelly that things were not all right on the home front, so we cancelled the day's outing and boated to El Chino to the local clinic.

There we sat for about two hours and I got a very nasty shot in the right butt cheek and a pack of sulpha drugs for my trouble. Nothing for the symptoms, however, which continued. Unfortunately for all concerned, not only did things not improved, they escalated. (Given that I am writing this on April. 15 I have not had a nights sleep for going on twelve days, without getting up every twenty minutes, but that's another story). So.

Nelly and I were paddling around the swamps and the inevitable happened, and I let her know that things were getting desperate. She began casting around for likely suspects, in other words, trees that I could climb. No land in sight and nature does not serve up Porta Potties. Given my state she chose the nearest, which had fork that was about face high. Now mind you, I do yoga. This required several things. I had to keep one foot in the middle of the canoe without tipping it over. The other placed in the fork of the tree, that is one ballet move if you ever saw one. Then it took all my upper body strength to lift myself into the tree (thank god for pullups) And now my feet are wedged. Right. Below, the river. Now, just drop trou, squat and relax.

When the Amazon is flooded, everything that normally lives in and on the ground has to move up to survive. That means, of course, things like, for example, spiders, ants, termites. The most likely place for such wholesale movement would be the trees. These things, being the Amazon, all have pincers, and mostly all have venom. Some quite nasty. Most don't take kindly to the intrusion of a 120 lb obstacle in the middle of their working day. And most, when given such an obstacle, would, quite reasonable, swarm over it, secrete the proper pheromones, and commence to bite.

Such a thing did indeed happen while I was attempting to balance my naked bottom over waters of the Amazon, while Nelly had quietly paddled away, and was then taking photographs of me in tree trying to pee, right about the time all the troops bit into my naked flesh. That would be fingers, hands, forearms, butt cheeks, pretty much anything not covered. Lotta target area, lotta ants.

I would commend any of you to attempt to relieve yourself in such a situation, being attacked by Amazon ants whilst balancing in a tree, whilst attempting not to fall into pirana infested waters.

I have photos. I am laughing. There really isn't anything else to be done.

Nelly, who is also laughing, yells at me to clear a spot on the branch, which I do, that buys me precious seconds, I do what I got there to do, jerk up my pants, and totter slightly forward.

In that second, the one and only key to all the locks on all my luggage goes sailing prettily out my right hand pants pocket into the deep, dark waters of the Amazon.

Well.

You cannot make this stuff up.

Nelly paddles back over, I repeat said yoga move while the ants are rushing to continue the second line of attack, get back in the canoe and we paddle away.

Ninety seconds later the ants that I had just zipped into my pants let it be known that they didn't appreciate their new digs and bite me in the crotch. I nearly fall out of the canoe trying to rip my pants off and deposit them for fish food.

You cannot make this stuff up.

I have photos. All on Facebook.

This went on for days, and days, and dear Nelly got really, really good at scoping out trees that didn't have ants or termites. NIghts were the worst, that's when the spiders and scorpions were on the trees. Nights, well, we took other precautions.

jhubbel

More on what to expect. There is no hot water out here. Why on earth would you want it in such a place? I know people complain but then when I was in Myanmar in 114 degree heat, people wanted hot water. Honestly. You learn to love it.. You come in so superheated that the cool water is a genuine shock to the skin. You learn to accept it in stages, and your body cools down gradually.After a few days it's a joy to let that cool water smack your ridiculously hot skin. On very hot days, especially after a morning hike, I would take up to six showers day just to maintain a reasonable body temp. How much of that was the illness I have no idea but the cool water was critical.

One day hike is to a place called Terra Firma. This is a rather high ground spot that allows you to wander even during floods or mostly - the really bad ones of 2012, which caused serious damage to their facilities still being repaired might be the exception. You must cover up. Here also is why you need to read Paul's book. In it he regales you with the sum of all his adventures, combined as needs be, to help you understand where you are and what's in this place. So much of what is here can hurt you. Wasps nests abound. The lovely, Chinese lantern like paper wasp nest looks lovely and has something like 200,000 wasps in it. Not a good thing to disturb. Often Nelly would redirect me around something so innocent looking- another wasp nest. Poisonous frogs, spiders, fer de lance snakes. My take on our iPhone friend is that should she have done a walk and brushed up against something awful she would not at all have either expected, nor would she have dealt with it well. "More could have been done." What, sue Mother Nature? What makes this an adventure in part are the very threats and dangers that exist here. The tag line for the place is "let the adventure begin." Indeed. For my part, I love creepy crawlies and if someone finds a snake or spider I am the first one walking over to it. I respect them, but am not scared of them. They belong in our world and often are some of the most beautiful creatures in it. Still, if we want to see them up close, we can sometimes be in harm's way, and that means dress the part. Hats, clothing, good boots. Out here, it's heavy rubber which they provide. OH my goodness are they hot. But they work.

jhubbel

Nelly took me with the boatman to one of the small islands. Here each hike goes in a different direction leading to the water's edge, and you can see just about anything along the way. We were treated to a very big Golden Tagu lizard, black with golden spots, fast as a whip. An education in healing plants and trees, all manner of roots. Here an iodine tree. There a huge root used for this or that illness. Which brings me to the local shaman.

I had the chance, as many do, to visit Adolfo, who is the 62 yo shaman of El Chino. Twelfth of seventeen children, currently last in a very long line of shaman, he agreed to see me late one afternoon. Not the first I'd visited but the first time I had a private audience. Nelly translated for me and I was able to interview him. His story was fascinating.

Trained by his father from the age of 14, Adolfo was forced into the Army for four years and had to give up his work as shaman. Only until after his marriage an d through the urging of his father in law did he return to it. Much of the work he did , he questioned, and he told the story of how he became very adept at making the hallucinogenic mixture that the shamans use for their practice I(. And that so many Westerners want for the experience but for the wrong reasons). For a while, he turned to alcohol, burdened by doubts about his abilities. He used the mixture to speak with his head father, who led him back to his work. Eventually he stopped drinking and recommitted to his shamanism and has been the community leader since. His greatest sadness now is that there is no one who wants to do the work, his own son refuses to do the hard work of fasting, no sex, no drugs or alcohol, no sugar to cleanse his body and learn the plants and forest lore to become the shaman.

Adolfo is one of many who are dying out in the Amazon. His is a very common story.. I asked him for a blessing, and to prepare,he brought out all his medicines. Some forty Coke and other glass bottles filled with bark, leaves, concoctions of plants, all created by.his hand. One by one I opened each one and smelled deeply. Beneath the slight moonshine base one could often make out camphor, or lemongrass, or garlic, or deep earthy bark, or something very familiar out of our own medicine cabinet. Each time I opened another bottle. Nelly would translate as Adolfio would explain what body part or ailment this was for and how to take it.. The smells were fascinating and not in the least frightening or threatening. He made me a drink of lemongrass, honey and a bit of moonshine and something else. then he took three dark tobacco cigarettes and began a beautiful,complex ceremony.

Blowing into the bottles of the potions he wished to call upon (the plants he wanted to speak to) he also blew the smoke on me, and using a duster made of leaves, he sang a Quechua song, danced in front of me, and used the duster and the smoke to weave patterns in the air about my head, shoulders, face and hair. This went on for some minutes. It was very soothing, and engaging. At the end, Nelly told me that he had called on certain spirits (that's between Adolfo and me).

Nelly also explained that far too many clients had come to him and demanded to buy the hallucinogenic drink without the proper precautions. To a person she reported they had all gotten very ill, largely because they were drug abusers and all had been using cocaine when they took the drink. It is not intended for that use and can kill.

mlgb

Ah, back to Peru! Looking forward to more of your reports.

I was able to stay at Tahuayo a few years back. Before at least two of the floods. One of my memories is the ants falling down from the tree branches into my shirt as we canoed through the flooded forest. I learned to tie a bandana tightly around the shirt collar.

I wonder if Pepe the caiman is still hanging out at the research center. And do they still go see Dorilla?

My guide was nothing special in the wildlife spotting area, but she was helped by the abilities of one of the Chino locals, known as Gato. Apparently the reserve had an arrangement that the former hunters would cut back in exchange for employment at the lodge, and being able to keep most of the daily catch on fishing expeditions, as well as some donations of leftover food.

jhubbel

From what I know, the arrangement is very similar to Uganda and Rwanda wherein the local hunters are now used for conservation, mlgb. As for Pepe, we didn't see him. I didn't meet Gato, but we did have a great boatman who periodically joined us for the night trips. Nelly has become famous for her skills, and is considered one of the top guides. Our boatman would fish while we were doing our looking around, and I took photos of his beaming face as he hoisted his catch at the end of his hook.

One of the treats that Nelly offered was lessons in field "tucker", the Aussie word for food, and some of it was great fun. Periodically she'd grab a pod off a bush crack it open and offer me something hairy. You eat it. You just do. The resulting taste was very much like cotton candy with a seed. It's called jungle candy, the pod looks very much like string beans, with all the seeds wrapped in white cotton. Very sweet. During a "cultural visit," one villager handed us six huge pods of this which afforded us both some nice snacking later on. In addition, on one of the island visits, Nelly pointed out a plant whose pure white center could be eaten the long leaves could be pulled out, the white base cleaned, and they were quite tender, if a bit fibrous, and tasted like palm hearts. The real life saver however, was water vines. In the unforgiving, intense heat of the forest, if you run out of water, you look for a particular vine whose bark sloughs off. cut them in half and tip them into your mouth, and water flows slowly into your mouth, woodsy tasting and sweet. Another potential life saver.

jhubbel

Remarkably, clothing and socks managed to dry if one dried them first on towels and hung them on the provided lines and was patient. Also, wifi was available, something I didn't expect, and it wasn't dependable (rain in Iquitos was a factor as well as an serious mosquito infection, my guess) but I was able to periodically check in. No serious photo sharing was possible, however, emails were about it. Even then that was a high water mark. And speaking of that, the water rose daily while I was there, necessitating additional boards and planks being added so that one wouldn't soak shoes while approaching the docks to board the canoes.

jhubbel

I did take, then managed to leave buried deep in my backpack, a very good headlamp. I strongly recommend one. I didn't finally find mine until I was back in Cusco. However I didn't have any problem making full use of the very good ones use by Nellly and the boatman, for they were the ones finding the animals anyway, Andy when I tried to use my useless little weak flashlight I was told to turn it off anyway. This was during one of the nighttime excursions from the lodge, which by the way was great fun. You'd boat out and then climb in a canoe and wander about you looking for caimans and whatever might be prowling. These guys know what they are looking for- a flash of eyes or bare flesh, a curve of snake body, movement in the trees. For hunters turned conservationists it once meant survival and they are exceptional at it.

For my part, simply turning out into these deeply wonderful and beautiful areas in the early mornings or late evenings to enjoy the stillness, whether we found anything or not, was so profoundly beautiful and engaging. The quiet swish of paddle in the water, the challenge of staying very present, the skill of listening deeply, all kept one very much in the moment day after day. While at times it was a challenge to deal with the heat it was just as serenely lovely to then turn a corner and be met by breezes brought by a late afternoon shower pattern, or low air movement just above the river. Often the skies would threaten rain, I would take out my rain jacket but nothing would happen. Only freshening breezes, clearing the muggy air, sending a few great herons skyward.

jhubbel

On one occasion, we had a long motor trip to reach a destination, taking about forty minutes. That day we spotted a flock of white egrets ahead of our boat which took flight as we approached. I managed to capture them on film as they rose and then landed again a short ways upriver. This dance of approach and escape when on for some time as the egrets would rise and fly off about 500 yards or so up river, alight in some likely branches overlooking the river until we again approached. Up they rose again.I just kept my camera going. Finally we rounded a bend, and they rose back over our shoulders the way we had come. Interestingly this entire experience repeated itself on the way home, and I taped them again, rising and falling patiently until a bend in the river caused them to reverse course.

As I grew up in Central Florida, we had many lakes and canals, and they were home to egrets, ibis, herons great and small. I've always loved these magnificent birds, and their flight patterns. The morning boat rides nealry always discovered a great grey or blue heron fishing, and sent a few flying away to find a safer place to fish.

jhubbel

After eight days in the jungle - on one hand it was enough and on the other it most certainly wasn't- I packed up all my gear and we headed back. I videotaped lots and lots of the trip back, trying to capture the essence of the place, the hanging vines, the deep mosses, the scurrying creatures. Trying to recall the feel of the wood on my hands, the breezes on my face, things that landed and scurried away, unknown, unspoken. Trust them not to bite if not frightened, for the most part that worked. This is one place I'm coming back to. We motored back to the lodge to have lunch but I wasn't feeling well. Two women had confiscated the couches, one woman each, so I grabbed a seat couch and lay on the floor. Nelly found me a room so that I could lie down, meanwhile I was pouring water on my head to control the temperature. The infection I had was running rampant and my body temperature was far too high, the antibiotics useless.

We were hit with good showers on the way into Iquitos, and when we got to the office I marched Nelly in to see her boss. At first her boss assumed it as a complaint until I made Nelly translate all my compliments, and how delighted I had been with the experience. As well, I committed to writing an excellent review and refuting anything negative that might come up from the traveler who might or might not write about her iPhone. Nelly then got me to my hostel, and we friended each other on Facebook and are continuing our connection, as I am with Paul Beaver.

jhubbel

Iquitos struck me as a decidedly unpleasant town, which is probably unfair since I'd just spent eight days in the jungle in blessed quiet. I am a farm girl, I hate cities in general, and I despite the loud noises and fumes of cities. That said, to get back into the petrol nastiness of Iquitos and have to cover my face to escape the exhaust, well, I wasn't happy.. At least the hostel had serious air conditioning, and a nice breakfast buffet, and that helped control the burgeoning nastiness that continued to dog my system. The ac was turned on to the max, and I was able to get the river water smell out of my hair. A few short walks down town revealed a nicely painted church, but I wasn't up for much more than that. Whatever I had was tying me to the hotel room.

jhubbel

Cusco in April was largely as I had recalled. Lovely, bright, cool. I'd booked a hostel in the nice neighborhood of San Blas, and made it there late in the day due to connections via Lima. As is so typical of these neighborhoods the streets are tiny and one way,and traffic jams abound, confounded by lots of foot traffic. I had to bundle my gear the rest of the way, and the hostel, El Grial, put me in a corner bottom room. There was a small market down the alley where yogurt and fruit could be had, the room had shelves, there was a common bathroom. I was anticipating a good night's rest, or at least another try at one, since I had still not been able to sleep more than thirty minutes at a time before having to make a bathroom run- and it was getting worse.

That night about 10:30 my upstairs neighbors began what became a two hour and totally inexplicable pounbing on their floor, my ceiling. I called up twice to ask them to stop to no avail, the noise was appalling. Later when I checked feedback on the Trip Advisor site, this was a common complaint. At six am, breakfast began, but not before I heard every single alarm in the entire building go off. Then kitchen noises, chairs, tinkling spoons, conversations, the whole lot. El Grial is actually a very pretty hostel, close in, nicely appointed. All of which is utterly useless if one cannot get a wink of sleep due to the noise level, which other guests have previously complained about- and had. I been more careful in my research I'd have avoided the place entirely. The good news at least was that they were able to direct me to the local emergency clinic, which wasn't terribly far way.

jhubbel

For about sixty dollars, what I got was three conversations. Two of the women I met didn't speak English, and when I walked in, I insisted on a culture bottle knowing that this would be key to understanding what was wrong. They were mystified, and insisted I see someone first. Well, given my condition I had to go to the bathroom rather badly and a specimen bottle made a great deal of sense, so we went back and forth until a doctor who finally did speak English appeared (btw the clinic is advertised as offering multiple world languages) and the obvious was made obvious- I was given the bottle.

Several hours later I got loads and loads of meds. Whatever I had, apparently had morphed into "something else," no idea what it was, but it wasn't responding to the first two rounds of antibiotics ( since I had slammed it with my own Amoxycillin to no avail). So now, something to make me pee orange, for relief, and Cipro, to kill it off once and for all.

That done, and hope given, I left.

Unfortunately, the pills for the symptoms never worked. I've' taken them before, and when the color appears, that means the meds are working and you should feel better. Nope. Not this time. And now I was up every twenty minutes and at the end of my rope.

By this time I'd taken the taxi to Ollantaytambo with a stop in Chinchurra. The driver was delightfully patient, and we agreed that I could have twenty minutes for a break stop. The market, usually only on Sundays, was bare, but there was still a small concern for those desperate for something from these women. I spotted and made a beeline for a brilliant turquoise poncho of baby alpaca, and a few minutes of haggling later it was on the counter along with another item for.a gift. We were off to Ollantaytambo in good enough time to get the driver back to Cusco for dinner.

jhubbel

Once past the terrible slums that are just outside Cusco where the day workers live, the drive to Urumbamba remains one of my favorite in the world. The rolling green hills, the mountains in the distance, the animals, the lakes, truly some of the most gorgeous country in the world. The driver regularly stopped for photos or slowed down when he heard me drop the window.

By the time we got to Ollantaytambo, the traffic was at a standstill, as that tiny road built for horse and foot traffic) was jammed with tourist traffic, trucks and busses. He finally got me to my destination and I was in my hostel in minutes.

I was welcomed into the small hostel right on the edge of town by a big handsome man with enough English to help me get settled. They plied me with coca tea and even better, three marvelous and rambunctious dogs who did a wonderful job of helping me feel better as the next day I was down for the count.

That night I unpacked to the sound of the running water which is a way of life in Ollantaytambo. The water is run by a system of waterways along the streets, used by everyone, and the sound is charming. You can open your window and hear it, walk the streets and the water is always there right at your fingertips.

Despite careful planning to go riding with Huayoccarri Hacienda, we didn't clarify how I was to ge there, and they had the horses ready for me, and I was waiting for them to come pick me up. Eventually much time later I contacted the daughter who acted as go between. So much time had passed by then that it wasn't worth it, and truth be told, given my condition, it was just as well. I went to bed to try to get sleep which was still not forthcoming.

jhubbel

The family made me some coca tea, which helped, then let in the big friendly black and white pit bull who immediately began chewing on my knee and thigh, and climbing on my lap (which wasn't a problem, I loved him) and searched for kisses. He weighed a ton, at only six months, this is going to be a massive dog. Too sweet for words. One of three, all three were wonderful company, and added to the general good nature of this house. The kitchen was open and warn, the back window opened up to the huge mountain view.

After a long nap I took a walk down into town braving a little distance from facilities and assuming I could find some downtown. Ollantaytambo has a charming square, although the massive amount of traffic imposed on this small place creates a choking set of fumes which tends to ruin the atmosphere. The place is beset with dogs, mostly friendly. Small shops abound, offering all the typical goods you find everywhere, along with a very broad range of adventure experiences in the area. This is what intrigued me. I had just found an outfit called KB adventures. I had originally been interested in Via Ferretta, which offers cliff climbs and if you book well enough in advance ( I didn't ) a stay at altitude on the side of the mountain. I had asked to be included in a group, it was now the day before the trip and I still had not heard from this outfit. As a result I had contacted KB Peru, which offered a variety of all kinds of trips, including a horseback trip to see Inca ruins nearby. That I did book and we were set to go in the morning- assuming I was feeling well enough.

Meanwhile I just wanted to wander. This is just about the most wonderful town for wandering I have ever had the pleasure to stumble onto, enough so that my next trip to Peru I won't make the mistake of only being here two days. I honestly found this tiny town to be such a gem, not just the town but all the surrounds - that I wish with all my heart that I had allowed at least a week here.

mlgb

If you are posting in near-present time, I hope you are feeling better soon~

Love Ollantaytambo. Pisac is also a great place for wandering outside of the Sunday market day hours.

crellston

Great stuff as always jhubbel! One of these days our paths will cross - we leave for Peru in a couple of weeks. Can't wait!

Sorry to hear of your medical issues (although I do confess, the ants on the butt episode had me rolling around - sorry!).

We too loved Ollantaytambo, a totally different place after the tour buses leave. We ended up staying for a month.

Keep it coming..