The day I lost EVERYTHING

I put my pack with everything, and yes, I mean everything (my camera, my debit card, all my money, my passport and all my documents) underneath the Sur Oriente bus I was to take 30 minutes up the mountain to an empty bus stop where I and a Belguim guy named Olivier were to hike up to Tina´s farm.

Shay and I had decided to split up. She was going on to Cuenca, I was going to work on the farm for a week. We said goodbye to each other, she had tears in her eyes and a bad feeling in her stomach. Then I got on the bus with only the clothes on my back, $5 in my pocket and my drivers license. I sat down on the right side of the bus, the side which my pack was on, but when Olivier asked me if he stunk because I didn´t sit next to him, I switched seats to the left side where I couldn´t look out the window and see my bag. He assured me not to worry.

So we rode and talked. Some time along the trip, I absently noticed the ayudante (bus helper who loaded my pack) was gone, no longer on the bus.

We got off in Tumianama and I immediatly saw Tina, with her broken foot, sitting on a white horse waiting for the other WWOOFer girl on the bus. I had to get back on the bus to tell the driver to unlock the bag storage. He mumbled something and slowly got off the bus with is head hung low. Olivier pulled off the WWOOFer girl´s pack, then his and stood up. Mine was not there.

"Donde esta mi maleta?"
My head spun.

Tina caught on to what was happening and she started talking/yelling at the bus driver. I started crying with my hands over my head in disbelief. I kept hearing Tina say, "Es toda su vida. Tiene nada ahora." ohhhh....

The bus driver told her that the door holding our packs had opened along the road and only my bag had fallen out. He said the ayudante had gotten out to run back and look it. I didn´t believe him. I knew my bag was stolen.

"Don Francisco, my neighbor, is putting on his shoes and getting his truck. He´s going to drive you back along the road to look for the ayudante and your bag," Tina explained. "Sylvia is telling her mother-in-law to look after her children and she will come with you too. I would come, but my foot is broken." Claro.

"I will come too," Olivier, the saint, said, rubbing my back in attempt to comfort me.

So we got in the truck and drove back the way we had just come, my body shaking, tears coming and going down my cheeks. We got to the bottom of the hill with no sign of either my bag or the ayudante. Sylvia started telling me that we should turn around and stay at her house for the night and wait for the bus to down in the morning and then find the bag. All I wanted was to go back to familiar Vilcabamba where Shay and Gavin and other friends I had made there were. Sylvia was nearly yelling at me trying to explain why it was better to go back up the mountain. My head was spinning trying to comprehend her spanish, trying to decide what was best, trying to pull myself together, trying to remain calm.

"No. Necessito ir a Vilcabamba."

We drove to the only place I knew to go, el Jardin Escondido, the hostel I had just checked out of. I immediatly saw Gavin standing in the street and nearly leapt from the moving truck. I explained what had happened with tears going everywhere. He went to police who where having dinner on the corner and told them what had happened.

"Why did you put everything in your one basket, Libby?" Gavin asked.
"I don´t knowwww..." I wailed.

I went with the police to the station down the street. They got their semi-automatic weapons out of the closet, I gulped, and then we got in their truck. We drove back up the mountain. Olivier tried to comfort me. He told me he would loan me money. He told me I could buy some new clothes. I told him how defeated I felt and how I might go home now. He gave me his jacket to wear.

Suprisingly, we found the bus driver and his bus. The police and him mumbled quietly together, hands in their pockets. I strained to hear and understand what was going on . Noone but Olivier and I were anxious. The police cooly stood aside and smoked their cigarrettes allowing the driver to make phone calls to who knows who. I was sure I was being duped.

Then, up drives another Sur Oriente bus and the ayudante hops off. I tried to get the police to search that bus, but they all dismissed this idea. By this time my tears had turned to rage. I was furious at these indolent bus drivers that kept their arms crossed and their eyes straight on the ground and at the cops who seemed to be doing absolutely nothing but mediating, which where I come from, isn´t their only job. We all stood around, for what seemed like eternity. I wandered to and from every mumbled conversation, uneasy and distrustful of everyone around me.

Eventually, after many ignored "Vamos"´s, we set off down the same road, again, to stop at the houses along the road and question everyone about my missing pack. All six of us, the two police men, Olivier and I, and the two bus drivers, crammed into the police´s king cab truck. We stopped at random houses, I hung my head out the window and searched for signs of my bag in the ditches. After many uneventful stops and promised rewards to whoever found the bag, we made it back to Vilcabamba. We stopped at one last house where the owner of a dump truck, that had apparently been driving near where the bag had fallen off, lived. I don´t know how the bus drivers suddenly knew where this had happened, they hadn´t before. This man again, knew nothing.

We went back to police station and one of the police men told me to converse with the driver and "come to an agreement." I had no idea what that meant.

I told them the value of my pack and everything in it was about $1, 500. I had no idea, but knew a high number would scare the drivers because they or the bus company (most likely the drivers) would have to reimburse me for it. About this time, Shay walked in and my tears instantly returned. By the look on her face I knew Gavin had found her and she knew what had happened. Marcos, one of the owners of el Jardin Escondido was right behind her. He jumped into the situation as only a truly fiesty Mexicano can, pointing fingers and standing face-to-face with everyone.

A couple of minutes later, a huge group of people had gathered in the station. All eyes were on me sitting crumpled in the corner. My spanish was defeated, I wasn´t even trying to understand what was happening by this point. All I knew was everything I had was gone. Everything. Se fué.

Marcos stood up and returned telling me that the local radio station had mentioned my missing bag on the radio and that had resulted in a "tip." So the police left again, leaving me behind this time. Shay brought me some yogurt and Doritos and a half-drank bottle of Rum she and Gavin had been drinking while they waited for me to return. After about 30 minutes, the police came back with my pack in hand.

Everything was there. It looked like it hadn´t even been opened. Even my camera, which was on top, easily accessible, was crushed, but still there. The group gathered at the station turned out to be the bus driver´s family who had driven from Loja to help look for the bag. Somebody started passing around a bottle of whiskey. I started passing around my thanks to everyone there.

It was incredible how this little town all came together and helped me. I felt like an idiot gringa who had put all her eggs in one basket and lost the basket. I didn´t ever think I would see my pack again. I am really really lucky.

I love horses!

Friday.

From the top of Mandango, looking out over Vilcabamba.

After the hike, relaxing with a cold coca-cola. I feel like an actress in a coke commercial sometimes drinking them. But they just taste so good here. No high fructose corn syrup, just sweet sugar cane!

There is a hike above town called Mandango. We hiked up to the cross the other day. I almost threw up from the heat once I finally got to the top. We decided to go during the most intense heat of the day, which wasn´t a good idea. But once at the top, it was worth it. The views were amazing and Shay and I split a juicy mango.

The top of Mandango.
It was a very narrow path and the heat was making me dizzy. I kept having to sit down and get straight. I was nervous about teetering off the side of the mountain.

Walking home from school...

On Saturday, we left Vilcabamba with Gavin, a New Zealander who has been living here for some 25 years now, and the horses. It was awesome! We rode up through this valley going through rivers and farmland. At first I was a little unsure on Colorado (that was my horse) but by the end of the first day, I had remembered my horse lessons from many years back and was riding a lot smoother.

Gavin ahead of me.

Shay-bur, looking elegant in her riding scarf.

We stayed up at the cabin Gavin built. He called it his 5-star resort lodge. There was no running water in the house, only a facet outside that came straight from a natural spring and no electricity. It started pouring down rain about 20 minutes after we got there, so instead of going hiking as planned, we watched the rain and sat in the clouds. Gavin made us bean burritos for dinner and we drank fresh squeezed passion fruit juice with a little vodka.

Edgar feeding the horses panela, their favorite treat.

Part of the view from the valley, looking out from Gavin´s front porch.

The next day rain was still looking ominous so we went for a short walk in the cloud forest and then set off down the mountain on the horses again. It was slow going down the steep, rocky cliffs of the valley, but everytime Colorado and I came to a clearing, I would kick him and urge him to go fast.

Gavin feeding Colorado, his "best friend," panela.

Colorado, looking for a bite of our pancakes.

I LOVE going fast! On the way out of the mountain once we were on wider roads, I got separated from Shay, Gavin and Edgar and was riding through the streets as fast as Colorado would take me. We were zooming past the locals who laughed and yelled "Gringa loca" at me. It was so fun. I couldn´t stop smiling.

The cabin.

Hosing off the horses back in town.

Colorado rolling in the grass.
They reminded me so much of pet dogs. Just a lot bigger, thus more to respect.

Gavin, the guy from New Zealand.

After we came down the mountain and returned to the office, we paid, Shay went back to the hostel and I stayed with Gavin and the horses. We rode the horses back to his house where we took their saddles off and put new horse shoes on them. That was cool. Then, Gavin´s helper, Edgar and I rode bareback up to where he keeps his horses overnight. Oh! that was soo cool. I learned how to make the horse do this fancy walk where he kicks his front legs out to the side. It looks real cool, but it also makes the ride really smooth. So Mescal (the horse) and I were doing this fancy walk through the center of town and then when we got outside, onto the dirt roads closer to the farm where they stay, Edgar was riding ahead of me, showing off and riding fast and so all the horses started going really fast, including Mescal. I almost fell off a few times and I got a little scared, but I still couldn´t stop smiling. It was so much fun. Working with horses is kind of like working with dogs. It´s all about remaining in control of your fears and emotions. The horses are so smart and sensitive to what you´re feeling.

Bareback.
Only a blanket, that ended up sliding off anyway, and the bridle and bit.

Ecuador!!

The Peruvian/Ecuadorian border:
It was super laid back. That guy in the blue shirt running is chasing down our bus. After being on the bus for like 5 hours I had to pee so bad, I paid 1 sol ( $ too much) for the filthiest, foulest-smelling toilet I have EVER seen.

Ecuador...from the bus window.

We´re now in Ecuador!! We got here, FINALLY, last night after a seemingly never-ending bus ride from Piura, Peru, across the border through Macara and finally into Vilcabamba. It ended up being about a 13-14 hour travel day. The bus wasn´t nearly as nice as the Peruvian buses we had been riding on. There were two "bus drivers," one who drove and the other toothless guy who alternated between doing bus driver things like securing luggage and putting on horrible movies like "Rambo," and staring at us and any other woman or young girl who was near him. They were really sleazy and I was relieved to finally get away from them after 12 hours of being gawked at. We stopped so much. Whenever sleazy guy number 1 or 2 wanted a coke or a little snack or whenever they wanted to pick up random people on the side of the road to get a little extra cash in their pocket, we stopped. The only good things about the ride were the Peruvian highschool wrestling team that was on the bus with us and the scenary. Ecuador is BEAUTIFUL! It´s so green and lush and mountainous and wonderful.

Part of the highschool wrestling team that, for some reason, wanted a picture with us in it. I, for I guess the same reason, wanted one too.

The lushness of Ecuador!

We arrived in Vilcabamba tired and hungry and ended up staying at a little residential hostel where this kooky lady showed us a tiny room with no windows and no fan and two beds. We were really tired and accepted the rooms for $4 a night. We ate dinner and then went to sleep.

Vilcabamba, Ecuador.

This morning I woke up breathing stale air and sweating. I hadn´t taken a shower since we were in Huanchaco, about 4 days ago, because the previous hostels we stayed at had atrocious bathrooms. So I was really ready to take a shower. I tried for several minutes to take a shower before asking a man living there if he could help me with the water. He tried and after a while asked the Senora about the water and came back saying, "Que pena, no hay agua." So I washed myself in the wet-wipes Dana bought me. I tried the faucet again a little later when I heard the toilet running and out came a spew of brown sandy water.

I found Shay, we ate some breakfast and now have switched Hostels to one down the street for the hefty price of $9 a night, which includes breakfast, real hot water, a queen size bed, a pool!, a private bathroom WITH free toilet paper and clean sheets! It´s like a resort. It´s called el Jardin Escondido (the hidden garden) and has wonderful gardens throughout with hammocks and clementine trees.

Today, we are looking into going horseback riding tommorow through the mountains to waterfalls. There are horses and cowboys walking all through town here. Vilcabamba is a tiny quiet town. Everyone seems to know each other and it seems very safe. They use the american dollar here in Ecuador which is really weird but it gives me a real perception of just how cheap everything here really is. I was a little sad to leave Peru so soon, but I figure I will be coming back to it, so I´m keeping my Peru-God, I mean, -Guide book in the bottom of my pack.

I called Yves, the guy who runs the farm just outside of Vilcabamba and we are planning on hiking up to the farm two days from now. He sounds real nice and I´m excited to live like a comunal hippie on a farm and take care of the animals. There are lots of chores to do around the farm and you can choose which ones you want to do. I will hopefully take care of the animals!
Once a week, someone takes the donkey down to town to get groceries for the farm. There are no phones and no internet. Since Shay has only about 6 weeks left of travelling, we are planning on staying on the farm for only about 2 weeks.

Our Cali-girl family in Huachaco.
Lulia, Laura, me, Shay and Jordan.

Huanchacho:
Don´t know if you can see it, but there´s a dog caught in this fishing net.



Huaca de la luna:
Incan ruins we went to outside of Huanchaco.


Sunset in Huanchaco

random pictures from Huaraz

Thanking Rudolfo for the ride he gave us, in his awesome little blue bug, to the right bus station after we wandered all over the country side looking the Wilcahuin ruins.

At the Wilcahuin ruins. We got a very detailed tour by a little 10 year old boy wandering around after school, for "solomente un propina."

Inside one of the delapidated "combis" buses that rattle around town packed full of people.

Playing ultimate frisbee in a field of cows and their poop.

Our ultimate frisbee "team" taking a water break. We consisted of 4 locals of Peru, 1 Italian girl, an Austrian guy, a climber girl from London and me. The Americana.

Huanchaco, Peru

We finally convinced ourselves that it was time to leave Huaraz. After about two weeks there, it was difficult to leave. I knew the staff at Hostal Churrup and enjoyed talking with them in the mornings. I knew the backpackers staying there. And I had finally figured out the back ways and routes around town. Almost a local and I knew it was time to leave.

So I popped two dramamine and got on the nine hour night bus to Huanchaco, a little beach town about 12 km outside of Trujillo.

The first day here we stayed in a hostel called Casa Suiza, aka, Casa Boring. Everyone stayed in their rooms, there were no dorm rooms, the food was disgusting and there was no communal kitchen. We went to explore the town and found another hostel called Naylamp which seemed much more backpacker friendly with a large area in the back for camping. So the next day we switched hostels.

View of the hostel common area.

My first impression, which I´m quickly learning means absolutely nothing, of Huanchaco was bad. I didn´t like it here in comparison to Huaraz at all. Where were all the women in their bowler hats and cute colorful skirts? Huanchaco seemed touristy and lacked appeal. Men and boys from all directions approached us wherever we walked, pushing flyers and pamphlets for their restaurant or surfboard rentals in our faces. We got more than the usual amount of cat calls and kissy noises, which by the way the men here must start practicing when they are in embryo because by the time they are 12, they can make that kissy noise sound from so far away and still be so loud.

Anyways, I didn´t like Huanchaco. I was starting to plan when we should leave when these three California girls came into the camping area all smiles. Their naivete and eagerness for everything, put things in perspective for me and I cheered up.

Sunset at the beach.

Yesterday, we went surfing. We rented boards and wetsuits for the day for 20 soles (about $6) and went out sin instructor. It was super fun. I kept saying to myself "I´m surfing in Peru," another thing that I didn´t think I would be doing before I came here. The other was hiking in the Andes. Stupidly, I didn´t even realize the Andes were in Peru.

"The strip."




Inside the tent and excited about it!

The Cali girls popping Lullia´s blood blister she got
from playing soccer barefoot on concrete.

The caballitos. Little fishing boats made from reeds that
look like a cross between elve shoes and kayaks.

Huaraz, Peru

On the bus from Lima to Huaraz, while looking out the window I decided that Lima was not Peru. It is a city of about 8 million people. Huge, and more or less indistinguishable from any other huge city.

Now, I am in Peru.

We arrived late at night to Huaraz and the town was bustling with activity. People crowded the streets, fireworks erupted in the sky. It was like 4th of July. Our taxi driver said it is like this every weekend. Why, I asked. "Because it's Saturday," he said with an obvious tone.

* * *

Huaraz is an amazing town. I've always thought that you can gauge a town by how easy it's people on the street smile back at you. Here, in Huaraz, they smile back.

The streets are full of senoras sitting and snoozing by their blankets full of their knitted alpaca hats or a cart full of fruit and candy. They always squeeze my arm and call me 'preciousa'. I can't help but smile.




This is in the Plaza de Armas. I think there might be a Plaza de Armas in every Peruvian town. The sign says, more or less: "If you don't love nature, you love nothing."

This is on the hike to Laguna 69. We took the hike as an acclimatizing hike. It was about five hours of hiking through a valley and then up ... and up. Coming from Asheville, I thought it would be a breeze. A easy day hike. No. It turned out to be the most difficult hike I've ever been on. It wasn't that the terrain was that difficult, it was the altitude. I felt like someone was squeezing my brains and pushing my chest back. This is Shay, gearing up for the rain. It rained, then hailed, then snowed.

We made it to the summit at Laguna 69.
There was a waterfall coming down right off the glacier above us. It was incredible. We made Ramen Noodles for lunch up there.

This is the perspective on the way down.

It was much easier going down.

This is back in Huaraz: a little girl with her alpaca. He was wearing sunglasses. It was Sunday and the town was a huge festival.

Sunday market.

Street after street was blocked off and filled with local vendors selling everything from clothes to fried chicken feet. I wanted to take so many pictures but felt it was a little inappropriate.

Also on Sunday.

Marching bands were marching throughout the town. At the front of each band, a group of locals were dancing to the music, drinking beer and setting off fireworks. The guy setting off the bottle rockets would light them right in front of the group and they would shoot off and hit the buildings and get hung up on awnings. It was crazy. They all seemed to be un-fazed. I, on the other hand, almost peed when one bottle rocket got stuck in a street vendors' umbrella and exploded like five feet from my face. The drunk guy in front of me who was trying to get me to dance with him, didn't even blink.

The trash trucks here even play music out of loud speakers on the roofs of their trucks. It's a very festive town.

A farm outside of Huaraz on the way up to the trail head of Laguna 69.

We were driving on back roads for about two hours, all dirt, gravel and huge rocks. The station wagon taxi rattled and bumped it's way up. Every now and then, the taxi driver would open his door and peer back at the car. I suspected something was wrong. After about five peeks, he finally pulled over and pulled out his car jack from underneath his seat. "You can take pictures now if you like," he said. Two local men wandered up the road to watch him while he changed the flat tire in record time.

My first view of Laguna 69. I wish my camera had captured this place. It was fantastic.

Estoy en Peru!!

A little Peruvian girl sitting behind me on the plane squeaked "Peru!" in a tiny voice when the orange lights of Lima finally came into view from our windows. It was exactly what i was screaming in my head. Everyone clapped when all the plane´s wheels thudded to the ground.

After the long lines through customs we exchanged some money and headed outside. A taxi driver from our reserved hostel was to meet us at the airport, so we dutifully followed the guy with a sign saying Shay "Slifho". That drive was one of the scariest drives ever. As we floored down narrow, pot-hole-ridden, broken-down-car-lined streets, I looked out the window at the sprawling Lima ghetto and wondered "What in the hell am I doing here?"

For months, I have been telling strangers and friends alike that I've got a one-way ticket to Lima. Now, as we fly through Lima in a rattling taxi, I feel like a fraud. I'm not brave. I'm scared. I'm in LIma, clutching my mace, double checking the locks of the taxi doors and fearing that every vacant street we are tossed onto is the last street I will see before I am robbed blind.

But it all turned out fine.

We got to the hostel. It smells like cat pee and arm pit but it has a bar. It's all good.

* * * *

I'm trying to decide which is better, planning out everything and knowing our plan and destination or spending three days in dirty Lima deciding where to go next. Some people have everything planned and they seem really happy with that. "Two days in Lima. Four days in Cusco. One day for Machu Pichu." It is nice to have them around though. I've found myself using their regimented schedules as starting blocks for mine. It's kind of like they are planning my trip for me. Almost like a tour guide, except I don't have to follow them. I don't have to take their advice.