R. I. P. Tupac

Recent weather: sunny and 65 during the day, 30s-40s at night in the mountains.
Recent reads: Mark, "Marching Powder" by Rusty Young, "History of the Incas and the Execution of Inca Tupac Amaru" by Pedro Sarmiento de Gamboa.

This week I left Mancora, Peru and backtracked south to go to Huaraz. It was not the easiest journey. I know I am taller than the average Peruvian, but when I sit down in the bus seat and already my knees are in the seat in front of me (and they haven't even reclined yet which they will inevitably do), I know it's going to be a long night.

Huaraz's town center was actually bigger than I expected considering the only reason anyone comes to Huaraz is to go trekking outside the city.
Day 1 I mentally prepared for doing something more than just laying on the beach and serving up cervezas to backpackers.

Day 2 I hiked to Pastoruri. At an altitude of 5,200 meters/17,000 feet, the 2 hour gradual hike up was far more taxing than you'd expect but the glacier made it all worth it. Yes, that's right. A glacier.

Just a stroll in the park...

Just me and the glacier hanging out...

Panoramic of the valley

Day 2 I hiked the well-known Laguna 69. This was a much steeper hike, 14 km/8.6 miles round trip, at an altitude of 4,600 meters/15,000 feet. Starting at the base of the trek, it was relatively warm as I got moving, but soon it started to rain. And then at Laguna 65 as we went higher, the rain turned to snow. And then at Laguna 69, the snow turned to hail. The hail cleared up for a couple of minutes, our photo-taking window. The water in Laguna 69 was an amazing array of crystal clear blue shades. As we went back down, the precipitation cleared up. It was amazing to experience such different micro-climates within just minutes.

Llanganuco

Let's do this!

Lots of horses and cows along the way.

Nice little waterfall at the bottom.

Laguna 65, a good rest point.

Evolution of weather: sun to rain to snow.

Made it to Laguna 69! 

Survived the rain, snow, and hail and still smiling! 

Day 3 I went hiked to Laguna Churup. This was the most difficult hike if you ask me. The lowest in altitude at 4,450 meters/14,600 feet, the most challenging portion was scaling the waterfall. I say "scaling" because most of the way up the waterfall was complete and total rock climbing. There were definitely a few scares where I lost my footing and/or holding and slid down some rocks before catching myself. Once at the top, Laguna Churup was breathtaking but still I was thinking there was no way I could go back down that waterfall. I eventually found a different path over a ridge that was less heart attack-inducing than the rock climbing wall and I made it back safe and sound.

How about some more hiking?

The path...

On the right you can see a waterfall that I climbed up. Looks more threatening in person.

Worth it!

Huaraz was my last stop in Peru before they kick me out (90 days already!) so I thought it fitting to read a book about Tupac. No, I'm not talking about East Coast meets West Coast gang wars. I am talking about the original Tupac: Tupac Amaru. Actually he was Tupac Amaru II, a well-educated mestizo Peruvian with Inca roots. Tupac saw how many indigenous people in what is now Bolivia and Ecuador were treated cruelly and unfairly by the Spanish, working grueling jobs like mining, farming, and textile manufacturing for unjustly low wages and under dangerous and tyrannical conditions. Tupac organized an indigenous revolt to end the Spanish exploitation and abuse of the natives and to bring about equality between the colonists and indigenous peoples. In the end, Tupac's revolt was unsuccessful and he and his native enforcement were surrounded in Cuzco where Tupac was captured and tortured. In the main plaza of Cuzco, the Spanish cut off Tupac's tongue and forced him to watch the execution of his wife and son among other relatives before a horse was tied to each of his limbs and directed to run in different directions. While his insurrection was technically an unsuccessful, it was the first organized revolt in a Spanish colony and gave local indigenous people a new found sense of nationalism. To native Peruvians and indigenous peoples of South America, Tupac is still held up as an almost mythical character and his legacy lives on.

On that note, Ecuador, here I come!

Closing Time

Recent weather: 80s and sunny. This weather forecast is even easier to predict than San Diego's.
Recent reads: Nahum-Matthew, "A House in Fez" by Suzanna Clark, "War of the Worlds" by H.G. Wells, "A Quiet Light: A Novel About St. Thomas Aquinas" by Louis de Wohl

Wrapping up my time here in paradise. Looking back on the last month in Mancora, I will miss:

1) Surfing...The best thing about my extended stay in Mancora has been the opportunity to surf just about every day and even twice a day when possible (on my days off or when I work the evening shift at the hostel bar). Besides getting exercise and being outside, one thing that I love about learning to surf is that I can honestly say that every time I get out of the water, I learned something new. Although, I mostly learn the hard way what not to do.  It's learning nonetheless.

Chica Mancora beach

 It's a well known fact that I am not a strong swimmer (or a swimmer at all, frankly) in a pool, let alone in the open water so after a few humiliating defeats versus Mother Nature, I have a certain level of fear every time I get into the water. But as with long-distance running, I think that a healthy dose of fear is the best form of motivation. And I have learned to combat this fear by facing it head on, literally. For example, when I am paddling out and it looks like an oncoming way is going to crash right on me, sometimes the best strategy is not to close my eyes and shrink into the fetal position on the board, but actually to face the wave head on and paddle as hard as I can directly into it and I'll go right over it nice and easy. Or after I have wiped out and another wave is coming, I want to grab the nearest flotation device, my board, and hold on for dear life, but actually the best technique is to ditch the board ahead of me towards the beach (so it doesn't hit me on the head again) and dive under just as the wave is about to break.

Los profesores de surf y sus estudiantes favoritas :) 

But after a month of surfing almost daily, I still feel like I haven't learned as quickly as I would like. (I still consider myself a beginner beginner.) And then I realize that that is something else surfing teaches surfistas: patience. Patience in learning. Patience in waiting for waves, especially that elusive "una mas" wave before getting out of the water.

2) Seafood...Peru's national dish, ceviche, raw fish served with onions and citrus juices, has been particularly amazing in Mancora. You can easily pay an arm and a leg at a classy seafood restaurant for a good plate of ceviche, but right here on the beach in Mancora, just about every restaurant or kitchen does ceviche well and for very inexpensive.

Ceviche starter with onions, red peppers, grilled corn nuts and sweet potato.

Tortilla con langostinos (shrimp omelette)--with rice and potatoes, of course!

3) Kokopelli...I will definitely miss working at the hostel! I take pride in my daily "cartel" (drawing on the hostel blackboard) and the music playlist during my shift. Last song of the night is always "Closing Time," by Semisonic, of course! But my fellow volunteers, the original all-Argentinian family, is what made my time here. We shared lots of meals, drinks, and laughs together! There were afternoons when I didn't want to go surfing, but my fellow volunteer who was also learning would encourage me. But they are each moving on one by one so it's time for me to move on as well. Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end! (You knew that was coming.)

Las chica de Kokopelli

Home, sweet, home!

Today you are here.

Next stop: Huaraz, Peru, for a week before my Peruvian visa is up.

My San Diego Summer

Recent weather: low 80s, sunny every day, heaven
Recent reads: Daniel-Micah, "Red Zone" by Mike Lupica, "Ports of Call" by Sally Fairchild, "Twelve Years a Slave" by Soloman Thorthop--a sports novel, chicklit, and a fluffy beach read.

At last. I have finally arrived in the ultimate Peruvian beach town: Mancora. While I was freezing (slight exaggeration) in Lima and Cusco, everyone was posting about summer in San Diego and Wisconsin. Now it's time for my San Diego summer!

Day 1: Buy a swimsuit top. Check. Somehow I had lost my swimsuit top along my way which is strange because at one point in time, it was in my regular bra rotation.

Day 2: Go surfing. Check. Surf schools are ubiquitous along the beach so this was an easy one. And with small waves that went on for days, my spirits were high after day 1. But day 3 of surfing was not so easy. It was one of those days where I was never in the right spot at the right time. And with huge waves that broke quickly like a brick wall instead of rolling on and on, well, let's just say that I more than struggled just to keep my head above water, literally. After I would ride the wave and wipe out, gracefully of course, I would come up for air just as another wave would crash over my head, wrap me up feet first and spin me about like a wash machine before spitting me out again even further from where I wanted to be. Repeat. But after a day of rest and a mental pep talk, I was back in the water. At the very least, it's great to be outside, in the water, and getting a heck of a workout!

Day 3: Get a job. Check. This was surprisingly easy considering that in Peru, nothing happens quickly. But after a couple of stops by local bars and hostels, I found a gig working at a hostel bar in exchange for free accommodation. Working with my all-Argentinian family of fellow travelers has been good language practice and I am also now an expert pisco sour maker! Egg white, lime juice, pisco, sugar, ice and shake! I hope I can find pisco at BevMo and keep the pisco sours going when I get home!

And shake!

 But even after everything seemed to align with what I had wanted--sun, surf, and the chance to stay here for a bit--I still didn't feel relaxed. There was definitely a low point when I was lying on the beach, the perfect level of physical exhaustion after a surf sesh, with the sun about to set on an amazing day, here in this Peruvian paradise and I couldn't just be content in that moment. And then I felt guilty for not being happy. I have since come around from that mild meltdown and am back on the positive train. Still happy to be here. Still excited to see and do all that I can. Still learning about myself and my own personal recipe for happiness. And shake.

I seriously cannot complain about this.