Kettlebells Continues

I continue to teach kettlebells here in Peru. My friend Jaime just opened his official gym here, called CrossFit Peru. I admire his enthusiasm, drive, and determination in following his passion of getting this gym started and spreading functional fitness to Peru. I am proud to be able to be a part of it! Here is a link to his write up about my work at the gym. Oh, and "Yeimi" is the phonetic spelling of my name according to Peruvians!

http://crossfitperu.com/2008/09/28/yeimi-dio-una-clase-de-kettlebells-en-crossfit-peru/

Mold Mayhem and Malaria Meds

PREFACE: I wrote this a few weeks ago and it was meant to be a personal venting I didnt plan to share here. But I think I would be doing a disservice to myself and my readers to only sugar coat my experiences here and pretend that everything is always perfect. As expected, this trip has presented its challenges, which are often manageable but at times gets a bit overwhelming. What follows flowed forth during an overwhelming moment. So it goes. This place will make me stronger.

9/20/08

Aptly, one line from an Eminem song keeps swimming through my head this afternoon: “and when your run is over just admit when its at its end.” On more challenging days like this, I can’t help but think that maybe my strange affair with Lima is reaching its end.

This place is bad for my health. My lungs burn from the pounds of pollution hurled at me over the past few months. They ache with attempted rejection of the mold that has opportunistically claimed my bedroom. My legs are restless from sitting in one place for 10 hours a day. I can’t help but worry that this place is adding years to my looks while taking a few off my life.

My stuff is ruined. The fungus triumphs. The brown strap of my nicest dress looks mottled from mold. My cute black ballet shoes are green with fungus. My handmade bag, adorned with patches from all the places I’ve been in Europe, was barely recognizable when I pulled it reluctantly from the closet today. All the furniture in my room is covered in mold, including my bed, where I’ve had fits of night sweats and spent restless hours trying to sleep in damp danky darkness. Last week I had to throw out a moldy pillow I slept on for weeks before realizing its condition. My ceiling is covered in some sordid spawning species. I can’t live like this.

This is made worse by the side effects of my malaria medicine, which I have been on now for almost a month. It has done a number on my stomach and my lips, strangely enough. Yikes!

This city is dirty, damp, dangerous and donkey grey. I feel assaulted each day as I wade through black clouds of smoke and try to ignore the multitude of blaring horns. I can taste poison on my lips as I make my way home each night cursing these streets. On some days, my friends wouldn’t recognize me if they saw me walking down the streets because they’ve likely never seen this look of disgust-stress-sadness and tension on my face.

Furthermore, I am also learning that I am just not a city girl (or at least not this city). I am so so much more at peace in a smaller town. Or in a forest. Or really any place where I can connect with nature and have a moment of peace. Here, I feel like a rat in a cage, one of way too many clawing towards the top to get a gasp of air. It stresses me out to be here. It de-centers me. It makes a negative person out of someone who is not negative by nature. It wears me out.

But all of this is tempered (and complicated) by the good that I am experiencing. I am slowly but surely learning a new language, one that may open many doors for me in the future. I am meeting awesome people at every turn. I am witnessing life and everything is fresh (except the air, haha). I am by no means stagnant in my outlook on life. I am learning more about myself each day. I am pursuing my bliss to the best of my ability. I am taking chances and wander out of my comfort zone at every chance I get. My times of travel—the whole reason for this crazy adventure—are amazing and rejuvenating. They are the reason I came here and the reason I am still here.

But the times in between are trying, as I am just not built for this kind of city life. So I am torn between upholding a commitment and high tailing it out of here to pursue that which I know is better for me.

Whilst in the rainforest area of Puerto Maldonado this last week, I felt extremely creative and generative, new ideas springing up daily. I want to write. I am feeling more dedicated to it than ever. I want to write this book about my travels. I want to spend a year in Spanish-speaking countries (I have expanded my travel dreams to include a few months in Argentina and a few in Spain) and write a book called Spanish Lessons.

I want to write a children’s book about the animals of the rainforest. A zoological/conservation tale in which the poor animals I saw kept in horrid conditions in Puerto Maldonado are set free by their own ingenuity. Because I can’t set them free in real life and the only way I can justify going to see what I saw is to write about it.

Furthermore, I want to actually put some effort into becoming a published travel writer. I think I might actually have it in me. I think I might actually have something to say that others might actually want to read.

I also know that I want to go back to teaching when all of these adventures are over. I love the college learning environment and I love teaching in it. I have been thinking of my students and miss the work I used to do. I think it is the only job I’ve ever had that I have actually felt passionate about. I miss it. I love the lifestyle, I love the way it makes me feel, I love how it stimulates my creativity and passion, and I love having the ability to interact with students on an intellectual level and to get them engaged in their education. Being back in an 8 to 6 reminds me of why I left it to pursue my masters and reaffirms the reasons I wanted to be a professor.

And other ideas have been coming forth. I keep mulling over the prospect of getting some sort of travel excursion company together in California. Right now it is so expensive to travel there as a young person and virtually impossible to backpack it. I keep thinking it would be neat to set up a company that enables backpackers to travel around affordably. To share with other people the amazing places in my own home.

And I want to live in a place where blue-skied days outnumber the grey, where I can call up and walk over to see my dear friends, where I can live in a mold-free home and walk down the street without swallowing smog, where I can be mellow and healthy. And travel. As far as living in a big dirty city and sitting in front of a computer for at least 10 hours a day...well this is not so much for me. However, I greatly appreciate the opportunities this job has enabled me to have. I have been able to travel here and experience Peru in a way I never would have been able to otherwise. I am so grateful for these gifts, about which I will carry fond memories for the rest of my life. I am immensely thankful for all of these things.

Impressions of a Peruvian Rainforest

The dark side of an illuminating locale....



While I was fortunate to be immersed in the sights and sounds of one of the most beautiful natural habitats on the planet, I couldn't help but note many many tragedies afoot. The local people here cannot eat from the river, on which blobs of bright orange pollution float, because of the unsafe mercury levels. Mercury is pumped into the Madre Del Dios by the opportunistic gold miners laboring along the river side.
The marvels of our first morning wander down the river were tempered by the thick smoke of a burning rainforest and the sound of chainsaws sealing the deal. While I fight to bite my tongue in responding to something I can't possibly understand fully, my visceral reaction was (and is) unstoppable. The deforestation here is jaw-dropping. The pollution is horrid. The way they treat their animals angers me, as I understand through past studies just how close so many of these species are to extinction.
Our guide told us stories of how they hunt the primates here (not to mention numerous other species). He continued with morbid details of how they must retrieve their kill. Because most primates here have prehensile tails, they cling to branches even after death. To collect them, hunters often take to cutting down the trees on which they cling. This is horrid tale is one of the saddest I've heard in a while.

Forgive my drama, I feel quite strongly about these things. A visit to the local zoo at the very end of our trip would have had me in tears if I hadn't been in total shock. Most of the animals seen in this entry live meters from their natural habitat in meager cages abutting a noisy cement block building operation. I wanted to free them. Since I can't, I have promised myself to write a book about them.

I hesitated on this trip (and still do) to jump to any conclusions about the implications of human activity on this natural, and rapidly dwindling, habitat. All I can say is the human footprint is stomping out much of what seems so vital to the preservation and continued existence of this rainforest. Seeing the difference between this place and the forests I saw in Costa Rica, this novice can see clearly the world of difference effective conservation makes. I hope (and feel compelled to help) Peru reverse this fast track to total annihilation of one of the most important resources on our planet.

Okay my rant is through.




Yes, that is a rope tightly tied to his hind legs.












Wild cotton grows all over this area. I cant help but wonder if cultivating wild cotton might be part of an effective conservation solution, providing an alternative means of income to locals who might otherwise pursue activities deleterious to the land.

-------------------------------------
Near the entrance of the Tambopata reserve, a German-based NGO has set up a little display about conservation of the rainforest. It is quite lovely and informative. I found one display board particularly beautiful. The following "letter," posted in both Spanish and English, is intended to remind visitors how nature should be appreciated.

From the post:

Dear Friend,

Pardon my confidence in speaking to you as a friend, but from the moment that you were born, you became part of my Being and I consider you as such.

Maybe you have never heard me speaking to you. The truth is, I have spent a lot of time speaking to people about how little they take care of me, that sometimes I think I do not have a voice, or only some have heard me.

Today, my heart is happy for your visit. Not only do I want you to see my, but I also want to share my secrets and reveal all the beauty and goodness that I have in myself. I understand that sometimes you can be enchanted with something that I have, but even so, I ask you not to take it. If you do that, it is as if you are killing me bit by bit and the truth is, this makes me suffer more than you can imagine.

Like you, the animals, the plants, the space, and even the air you breathe form a part of me. I offer you this with all my humility, so that they also form a part of your life experience. Respect them, as you respect yourself. Enjoy them, as one enjoys being alive. Embrace them, as one embraces loved ones. Love them, as one loves oneself.

I only want to thank you for forming part of my life and hopefully, at the end of your visit, you will be satisfied for having discovered a little more of the beauty that life offers us everyday.

With affection and offering you all of myself,

MOTHER NATURE

Departure Day from Puerto Maldonado

This was one of many peaceful sights I came upon on an early morning solo hike near our lodge. While the forest is filled with the busy early morning sounds of insects and animals millions strong, it is the most quiet place you can dream of. Quiet, in the sense of fostering complete peace and tranquility in the listener. The best kind of quiet in my opinion.


A titi monkey in the tree. S/he and a buddy were the only two wild monkeys I saw on this trip. I was excited about seeing these buddies, as I had not yet seen this species before in the wild. Something about their body types reminds me of Haile (my cat). haha.

Hiking Camino Al Aguajal

Early verdant views on the Camino Al Aguajal Hike. (Aguajal is the name of the palm tree seen throughout this walk)


Another early morning view on the hike.


This face-like arboreal visage is really a tumor on a giant jungle tree.


According to local legend, touching this bulbous tree adornment while pregnant can result in birth defects. Though the local women are still convinced, there is no scientific evidence that anything about this bulb would result in birth defects.


Though not its official title, this Snake Tree is called the Gringo Tree, so named because its bark resembles the peeling skin of a gringo with a sunburn. So say Freddie our guide.


One of many amazing glimpses caught on the Loboyoc Creek wander.

Parrot Clay Lick and Lake Sandoval

Early morning sights from the boat as we headed to the Parrot clay lick.


Though a bit tough to capture on camera (these guys just move sooo fast!), this is a brown throated three-toed sloth.


The beginnings of a massive parrot reunion. They come by the hundreds to clay licks like this each morning. Eating clay coats their stomachs (protecting them from the toxins in their food) and provides nutritious minerals that do a parrot body good.


The beginning of our hike.


A little lizard buddy, hiding in the underbrush.


Look close, those walking cuts of leaf are being diligently transported by leaf cutter ants.


While the forest around Puerto Maldonado isn't known for its flowers, this is a beautiful image of the flora we passed on our morning trek.


A cluster of small yellow and black butterflies.


The Owl Butterfly


Quite a beauty.


I like the juxtaposition here between the brown muted tones of the forest floor and the brilliant illuminating glow of the butterfly's wings. (can you tell I am studying the ways of art lingo???)


On the first leg of our 12km hike. A gangsta looking mama and her happy daughter.


Jaime of the Jungle


A crew of turtles lined up creekside as we traversed the small creek opening onto the Lake.


Entering onto Lago Sandoval


A view from Lake Sandoval.


Look closely, and you can see a line up of bats on the tree.


This little guy is one of the many spectacular birds we saw on the shadowy banks of Sandoval.


Heading back from our paddle on the serene, though sweltering, Lago Sandoval, we were welcomed by this little sight-- a turtle showing of the latest fashion: butterfly head wear.


At the end of a long day's hiking: Laura (our friend from Arequipa, Peru), Jaime, and a tuckered but triumphant Christine (my mama).

Rainforest Arrival: Puerto Maldonado

My mama on the boat crossing the Madre Del Dios River from Puerto Maldonado to the small area where resides our little hotel, the Estancia Bello Horizonte.


The rainforest driveway heading into the secluded Estancia.


View from the grass just in front of our little bungalow, taken after peaceful and much missed moments of meditation.


Little Diego heading towards his human mama at Estancia Bello. The story goes that Diego, a young red howler monkey, was orphaned and then adopted by a human mama named Sol.


Diego cuddled with Sol.

Islas Ballestas

To get to the Islas Ballestas, my mom and I had to wake up when most people in Lima were just catching a nice buzz and setting sights on their amor de la noche at the local discotecas. We caught a taxi to the Cruz Del Sur bus station in San Isidro at about 3:30am to catch our 4:15 bus to the south coast. At this time of night in this particular neighborhood, I was surprised to see the streets lined with prostitutes, many of whom sported nothing but a g-string and a coy, though jaded, smile.

After barely missing the bus because I was too caught up translating to my mom a children’s book about the Humboldt Penguins we would later see, we arrived into the small seaside village of Paracas with barely a moment to spare before hopping on the boat to Islas Ballestas. In addition to the standard hour-late arrival of the bus, we also did not make contact with the guide we paid to meet. Upon arriving we were thoroughly hassled by wheelers and dealers, which is standard in most places with a tourist draw.

Fortunately, the sun was already burning off the grey marine layer and we didn’t require the heavy jackets we schlepped onto the open-air boat trip. The fully loaded vessel took us first past a geoglyph called the Candelabra, which is similar to those seen in Nazca.

Candelabra

This huge figure etched into a massive sandy hill measures 150 mters in height by 50 meters wide. No one really knows when it was made or why or by whom, but there are several theories. Our trilingual guide explained that some people have connected them to the infamous Nazca lines, though this image was unlikely made by the same peoples. Others posit that the form is not a candelabra but a tribute to the Peruvian cactus San Pedro, which is prized for its potent hallucinogenic properties. Still others believe it might have served a navigational function back in the day.



The Islands
Soon after viewing this mystery, we headed through the choppy waters for the Islas Ballestas, which is considered by some to be the “Poor Man’s Galapagos.” (Having not been to the Galapagos I am unable to verify or reject such a claim.) Arriving to these small rocky islands one is greeted with the sights, sounds and smells of literally thousands of birds including the Peruvian pelican, Peruvian booby, guanay cormorant, and—my favorite—the Humboldt Penguin (named after the current that bathes Peru’s coast with unusually cold waters).



Bird Shit

Many of these sea birds produce massive amounts of nitrogen-rich guano (i.e. bird shit) as deep as 50 meters in some places on these islands. Guano is considered a premium fertilizer and has filled many opportunists’ pockets with riches throughout the centuries. In fact, it is such a valued resource that Spain waged war in the 1800s to gain control of some nearby guano-rich islands. Quite a lot of fuss has been made for these droppings indeed.


The Wolves of the Sea


In addition to birds, the caves and arches of these islands are home to hundreds of sea lions (los lobos del mar). While some are found in small groups sunning themselves sleepily on a rocky outcrop, others in a more sociable mood can be found nearly heaped upon one another on sandy shores, fighting over mating rights, or simply having a good squabble. Though I grew up near San Francisco’s Pier 39 and have lived for many years near La Jolla’s coves (both of which are favored by masses of sea lions) I believe this was the first time I have seen so many of these creatures in one natural location.




In my opinion, the Islas Ballestas are well worth the early morning rise, 4-hour bus ride, and 1.5-hour boat ride. One additional sighting towards the end of the sea journey has, of course, solidified this perspective. As we approached an area towards the shore, we were met with a big group of dolphins at least 10 strong. Some of you might know that I jokingly call dolphins my spirit animal (because they are badass), so to meet them happily frolicking in their natural habitat was quite a treat this morning! (Better than my last run-in with the dolphins in the tiny tank of Lima’s Hotel Delphines.)

After the Main Event

So all of this excitement was wrapped up by 10:30 in the morning and our bus home wasn’t scheduled to leave until 5:30 in the evening. I wondered for a moment why I hadn’t checked our itinerary a bit more closely before shelling out the cash for said adventure. To my knowledge there is not much to do in the tiny village of Paracas. The center of town looks like the architects abandoned their professions mid-way through construction, save for about 4 little restaurants on the main drag. We sat pondering our options for a short time before a woman who arranges tours approached us with our options.

Initially, we asked this jolly stout Peruvian lady if it was possible to catch an earlier bus but were soon informed that such an arrangement would be impossible because the bus company intentionally shut down their systems for the duration of the day. Not too surprising, though it baffled some other travelers with the same idea. She suggested that we take a 4 hours bus tour around the Paracas reserve. Mom and I weren’t sure about the idea of spending over 12 hours on a bus in one day. The prospect of sitting on the empty Paracas beach drinking Piscos and sunbathing sounded much more enticing. And the jolly Peruvian woman didn’t do that much to sell the Reserve option, which she described as a trip to a cathedral and some natural landscapes. We were all but talked out of the Reserve when we discovered that the lady had gone ahead and committed us to a taxi tour of the area with a younger couple and their 2-year-old son. Ah, what the hell, the piscos could wait.

And I am so glad that we went on this little outing! In fact it was one of my favorite ventures in this whole crazy land of Peru! The natural landscapes the jolly woman described with little enthusiasm peaked our interest and dazzled our eyes with each new scene.

Reserva Nacional De Paracas

The Paracas Reserve is a vast open desert abutting the sea. This makes for some beautiful contrasts between the stark yellows and browns of the seemingly still and lifeless dunes and salt flats and the kinetic azul coastal waters bathing the beaches below stunningly sheer cliffs. We began our trip with a visit to the cathedral, which was actually a rock formation just offshore that once resembled a cathedral before an earthquake sent parts of it into the sea. After this we visited a couple of beaches, one of which had dark crimson sand that was magnificently anomalous compared to its surroundings. Our last landscape views were of a lagoon with glowing waters punctuated with tiny fishing boats. Our taxi driver told us that this area was wiped out by a huge tsunami following the last major earthquake, which brought flood waters hundreds of meters onto land after taking out several small restaurants on the shore.














Our last stop on this little private taxi tour was a small wreck of a museum, which we were told was under construction following some major earthquake damage. It was charming and worth the visit nonetheless.

I am pretty certain that our little venture via taxi was by far the better way to see the reserve compared to the tour bus option (though I think both my mom and I would have gladly hopped into a dune buggy for this excursion). While the dune buggy will have to wait for my next visit, it was an excellent afternoon exploring the beauty of Peru’s south coast.