And so she walks in the cool morning, having risen early before the others in her hostel room, hoping to catch one of the first buses to the boarder. But she isn´t crossing. Like her life, she balances on an edge between worlds, in them but not of them. She waits patiently in line at the entrance, and after entering walks angrily for twenty minutes over the double price for foreign tourists. 60 pesos! She is angry, and complains loudly with other tourists around her. The entrance is far away from the falls. She has no map. She follows signs. One [View Full Entry]

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In the morning we arrived with our bags--one packed for storage with all the things we would not need for the jungle. Such as knitting needles, a summer dress, or full bottles of shampoo, for example. The second bag held my mosquito tent, toothbrush, pants, headlamp, and an extra shirt. I wore my shorts and my other shirt. Underware did not end up mattering much, I ended up wearing my swimsuit for the entire trip. Not only was it more breathable, but I could peel my clothes off in front of anyone without batting an eye. I had bought a pair [View Full Entry]

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Unlike other individuals, three days in the Pampas fueled my desire to see more jungle. Many people consider the Pampas to not be real jungle, and indeed, it is not. However, of my fellow Pampas explorers, Ido was the only one brave (or should I say, foolish) enough to accompany me. In the beginning, as we planned our jungle adventure, we decided on seven days. Three days seemed too short, and only involved day hikes from a lodge, and twenty seemed far too long. So, as any reliable and responsible traveler does, we spent our second day back in Rurre visiting [View Full Entry]

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The tick was the size of a small grape. I found his fat body buried in the tan fur of Tidie´s neck. I was careful not to grab strands with my thumb and forefinger. The tick waved his legs feebly, frantic for his warm home.I dropped him on the ground and let my foot drop. Like a ketchup packet, his belly split and spurted stale blood into the dirt. As Tidie trotted away to chase chickens,I sat down in my seat at the table, ready to resume our game of UNO. Tom, a belgium I had met at the boarder between [View Full Entry]

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Tiny gnats flew into my eyes, crazed by my headlamp into comacozies of crumpled wings and broken legs. I wiped them free with the back of myhand and turned off my light. The LCD light, though long-lasting, was very dim, and I waited for others in the boat to spot the caimons with their hand-held lights. Our boat, a wooden banana that tipped dangerously with every weight shift, moved forward silently, the engine cut by our guide. Between the clumps of grass linging at the waters edge, alligator eyes glowed like stones. A baby caimon, flustered at our sudden apearance, scrambled [View Full Entry]

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Finally I have found an empanada that did not make me question its palatability. The baked pastries, filled with everything from a simple slice of cheese to potatoes, meat, and vegetables and folded into a calzone-like shape, grace the streets of Bolivia. Most empanadas are cooked in the morning and placed in carts parked along the street by old women or in a bakery window. As the day warms the bread dries out and the empanada´s contents take on a radioactive entity. Ever since my long night hanging my head over a urine-stained toilet, my food selections have become somewhat more [View Full Entry]

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The animal in my belly bit, tearing into my soft skin. The pain smiled at me, blood dripping from black teeth. I moaned, whispering words in tight gasps, twisting my legs beneath me to release the pain. The bathroom floor floor was wet from the shower and soaked through the blanket I had pulled from my bed upstairs. The door was locked, the light reflecting off the white tiles. Shivering in pain and cold I continued to thrash and moan, rising only to empty the little that was left in my stomach. My head rolled from side to side, cheeks pressing [View Full Entry]

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After spending an afternoon dodging candy stands manned by apathetic women and enduring promotional speeches by every tour company in Nasca, I decided to wake early in the morning and walk the four kilometers to the airport and book my flight over the lines there. Stubbornly, I refused to spend more money that what needed to be spent, forgoing sleep and relaxation in the process. The early morning walk from the grubby downtown of Nasca (while there, I was asked by several locals what I thought of the town. Needles to say, I lied) was quieter--I only counted 17 taxis who [View Full Entry]

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Proud as I am to be an American, for one day being a Canadian would have been the desirable option. Bolivia, for reasons relating to poltical opposition of Socialism versus Democracy and drug farming, has evicted American missionaries from their country and made entering the area twice as difficult for American travelers. I had heard the visa costs were over a hundred dollars, that the visa would take three days to get, and boarder guards were known for rifling through bags and confiscating "illegal" items such as extra American dollars. I barely slept my final night in Puno at the edge [View Full Entry]

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At three I moved from my place by the pool to change into pants. I figured that my stretch pants had a higher capability of being pulled down, or worse case scenerio, completely off, and cordoroys were the better bet. The afternoon was only just beginning to cool, and people, melted into a sludge of hot apathy, began to rouse themselves and wander the town of Huacachina. I packed my backpack and made my way to Sand Adventures, a dunebuggy tour partly run by a young girl from Vermont. For forty soles I had entrusted two hours of my life to [View Full Entry]

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