Scandinavia-Touring At Last

August 14, 2006-St. Petersburg
(Photos:Chezma Church,
Romanov graves,
Peter tthe Great's crypt,
Church of Saviour on Spilled Blood)


Tomorrow is our granddaughter Talia's birthday and we have no way of calling her. It makes me sad. We celebrated with her before we left. It satisfied her but not me. As you know it’s hard for me to adjust at the beginning of our trips. This isn’t making it easier.

Our group staggered onto the bus for a tour of the city of St. P. I should cut myself some slack on learning the names of our fellow travelers. There are twenty-two in all. I know most of the women but the men seem to run together. Our hotel is outside the city center. The guide said there was no suitable place closer in. We were joined by a student photographer who is taping us as we tour. He will edit pre-shot footage of the sites we have seen into it. Of course it will be for sale.

We got a lesson in Communist architecture. There is ugly, uglier, and ugliest. The styles are named for whomever was the dictator at the time of construction. Stalinist is the best constructed and most attractive with the Khrushchev era the worst. Fortunately we quickly found the adorable pink and white wedding cake-like Chezma Church built around 1770. Russian Orthodox services are 1 1/2 –2 hours long and the congregation stands the entire time. The larger more ornate churches are cavernous since there are no seats. They’re also now mostly museums. Worship is conducted in “church Slavonic” and the younger people don’t understand and cannot read it. Under Communism some churches were used as warehouses and one had a swimming pool built inside. There’s still a church housing the Museum of Atheism. After three generations of atheism, it’s difficult if not impossible for religion to gain a solid foothold. Padded theater seating might help.

We rode down Muskovsky Prospekt, a wide boulevard, and benefited from the sprucing up done for the G-8. Most facades were freshly painted and flowers were in abundance. St. P has always been a clean city and is famous for lovely public parks where even on a Monday we saw four wedding parties taking photos. Citizens enjoy owning their apartments now but since the state is no longer responsible for providing housing homelessness is a new problem here. Prosperity for some has brought more cars and cars too are homeless as parking was never a consideration in the old days. History Lesson St. Petersburg is 300 years old. It was founded by Peter the Great and became the capital from 1712-1917. It sits on what used to be Swedish territory but around the 1600’s Peter wanted to build a European capital and fought for twenty-one years to get this marshy location. It was Russia’s by history since in the 1300’s it was Novgorod. When Peter got it back from the Swedes he went to England and Amsterdam to study shipbuilding. He learned well. Shipbuilding is still the main industry here. He never lived to see his city plan completed but it was followed to the letter. Today they still adhere to his limit on the height of buildings in the old city being less than seventy-five feet tall. After WWI the name was changed to Petrograd since St. Petersburg was too German a name. In 1917 it became Leningrad and in 1991 it was back to St. Petersburg by a slim majority of 54% in a democratic vote.

Peter the Great was dubbed “Great” after his death based on his achievements. Peter tired of his first wife and sent her to a convent. He took as his second wife, Catherine who became the 1st. She was a washerwoman/”entertainer” for the troops who made it big but not “great.” It was Catherine II who named herself “great.” Perhaps she based her honorific on the number of lovers she had. The Neva River is lined with pastel colored palaces many of which she built for her favorites. Five of those palaces comprise the Hermitage.

Peter built Peter and Paul Fort and Church on an island in the Neva River. There are 308 bridges in the city limits twenty-two of which are drawbridges. The drawbridges are only open from 2AM-5AM for the larger ships to pass. The fort never saw military use but has housed political prisoners and is presently a mint. P and P Church was built in 1712 in the European style loved by P “the Great” and is the resting place for the Romanov family. Russia is in the process of gathering the remains of its dead princesses who married into other European families. They’’re re-interring them in crypts in P and P. But tit for tat, one crypt is empty. A princess who married Russian was recently sent home to her country of origin. The Romanovs and all the servants who were killed with them when they were assassinated were re-buried in the church and DNA testing shows that the ephemeral Anastasia is among them.

St. Isaacs Church was built in the1850’s. It’s not dedicated to the Isaac we know but to a Byzantine monk. It escaped damage in WWII when many of the gold church domes were painted gray to camouflage them. Flanking the entrance to the altar are ten columns encrusted with mosaic malachite veneers. The two columns immediately on the sides of the massive entrance to the altar are lapis lazuli. It’s overwhelmingly opulent in a good way. In winter ice formed on the inside of the dome and upper walls. Braziers were placed around the sanctuary to warm the worshippers and their breath added more heat. Candles were used in the chandeliers. What was created was a weather system with chunks of ice falling on the faithful. Many oil paintings were replaced with exact replicas in mosaic to avoid deterioration from the weather. Italian artisans didn’t come to Russia to create the mosaics. Russians went to Italy to be trained. The results are remarkable. Some originals are shown next to the mosaics and are indistinguishable as to color, composition, and shading. The only give-aways are the edges of the tiles. Eventually the weather problem was solved with the advent of central heating and electricity.

The Church on Spilled Blood was the place where Alexander II was assassinated. It’s built in typical Russian onion-domed splendor featuring multi-colored roof tiles. We didn’t go inside and I think that’s the last of churches for this leg of the trip.

On Our Own

The Red October beckoned us as the “official” gift shop stop. So far I’ve been able to resist buying anything but this is only day two For the first time in our travels I’m wearing a money belt under my shirt. David has some money and a credit card hanging in a pouch under his shirt. We hate it but our guide said it is necessary. She told us only to use credit cards in the hotel or approved shops since credit card fraud is rampant. One woman has a fanny pack with a steel wire through the belt part. I may invest in one when we get home. It has to be more comfortable.

All but four of us are going to see Swan Lake tonight. David saw the Kirov dance it when he was here in the 80’s. We saw the Kirov in Cleveland so we decided to skip it. We decided to ride the Metro downtown on our own. Susan and Chester Watson joined us. Chet is retired from the military and had a top security clearance. He doesn’t talk much about what it was he did. Susan is a CPA. He’s a Republican who says he’s been disappointed by some of his choices. He thinks that Mitt Romney would be a good candidate and he would vote for Joe Lieberman. I think Susan may be a closet Democrat. We followed the instructions given to us by Nadia and entered the Metro station near our hotel. We bought tokens for twelve rubles each (fifty cents) and descended an endless escalator into subterranean St. P. Built in the good old days, subways doubled as bomb shelters. A free economy is evident in ads displayed in the train cars and on the walls of the stations. Train stations aren’t necessarily labeled and the announcer tells the next stop so we counted out six stations and got off at the seventh. Stations are a mile apart. As we surfaced David was jostled by someone who kept saying, “Excuse me,” but was blocked by someone else. He thought it might be an attempted pick pocketing so veered off to the side. He didn’t have anything in his pockets anyway but was uncomfortable with the situation. His reward for his quick thinking detour was finding a street vendor selling Diet Coke, his first in a few days. We negotiated the street scene ending up sitting in a park near the river until it was time to go. Sun sets around 10PM and we wanted to be back by dark.

I napped a lot on the bus and feel more rested. I think I’m settling in. Tomorrow we go to Peterhoff, Yuspupov Palace, and take a cruise on the canals.

Toby

Scandinavia-Off To St. Pete.

August 12, 2006-Insecurity
(Photo:St. Petersburg, Russia)

We’ve re-packed. We were a lot less stressed than the couple in the next room who argued and yelled as they decided what stayed and what didn’t. Luckily we aren’t carrying baby formula or breast milk. It’s allowed on board but has to be tasted by the passenger to clear security. I am carrying an almost empty bottle of lens solution with me. It’s saline and I’ll squirt it in my mouth if necessary.

We sat on the porch of Junior’s Restaurant while we ate lunch. It’s around the corner from our hotel and has been our fallback for snacks. Two of New York’s finest mounted police strolled by. It was amusing to see a cop on a cell phone on a horse.

Getting There

We called Finn Air to be sure our flight was leaving on time. They told us they wanted us there for check-in hours ahead of take-off. Ugh! That means we sat in a skuzzy waiting room for four hours for a 7 hr and 15 min long flight. The security was lame. They didn’t even open the toiletries bag in my carry-on or David’s CPAP breathing machine. We passed the time meeting other Grand Circle Tour travelers.

The flight left for Helsinki an hour late due to increased security. When the announcements started I thought I was in a Saturday Night Live sketch and someone was going to ask to “skeeewer de torkey.” The accented English was a blend of Scandinavian and Russian. As we boarded we were handed eight ounce bottles of water as a consolation prize for disposing of our own liquids. They passed out water frequently as they tend to do on long hauls. It was welcome since lunch was a spicy chicken curry. The orange juice with our breakfast snack referred users to contact Country Pure Foods in Akron, Ohio 44314, with any questions. They gave a web site of juice4u.com. Never heard of it.

We landed in Helsinki on August 13, and immediately walked onto our flight for St. Petersburg. We were settled in our seats when we were informed of a forty minute delay due to navigational equipment issues. The two cities are spitting distance from each other, but I guess the pilot was being picky.

The 45-minute flight approached St. Petersburg, Russia over the Gulf of Finland. We flew low enough to see shipping activity. The area alternates between forest and farmland until the airport and gray city housing blocks come into view. The welcoming terminal was vintage Communist military mustard and tan stone construction. The bright spot was Nadia, our guide, who promises to be knowledgeable and understandable. She teaches English for eight months of the year and is a guide the balance.

We stopped at the Warsaw Restaurant for our third meal of pork products. We had two snacks while flying that consisted of ham and cheese sandwiches. At the Warsaw the soup had sausage. Nadia immediately noted our request and we were served a delicious hot beef borscht with sour cream.

We are now ensconced in the Pulkovskaya Hotel owned by SAS and Radisson. It’s lots better than I expected but the past lives on. The two towers of the building are called “blocks.” We are in block I. The dining room is in block II. Nadia said that the hotel staff insists that the building is air-conditioned. The public rooms are fine. The guest rooms are on the warm side. The solution is to call the desk and insist that they send someone to unlock the windows. She also told us that hairdryers are available on request. There is no charge and nowhere to plug them into the bathroom but they work in any plug in the sleeping area. Lucky for us our window was already unlocked and we only need a hair dryer to dry laundry.

Toby

Scandinavia-More Exploration

August 11, 2006-New York

Our day started with an attempt to get theater tickets at the TKTS booth in the Fulton Market area. The problem was that it being Friday, there were noseats available for any show we wanted to see. We enjoyed the pedestrianized area of the wharf and took off for lunch at, you guessed it, Katz’s. As we arrived we saw an ambulance out front. That’s not a good sign at a restaurant. It turned out that the EMTs had stopped for lunch. In short order (no pun intended) the ambulance was joined by a full hook and ladder fire engine. The entire crew piled into Katz’s in full battle regalia and dug into their lunches too. We couldn’t resist taking photos.

On the subway headed to Chinatown Syd proposed that it would be less money to share a cab than to pay $2 per person per subway ride. As it turned out that wasn’t true, but our cab rides were more exciting than the subway. We had drivers from Sierra-Leone, Pakistan, and Egypt. They all learned to drive in their home countries. Enough said.

Janet was intent on buying knock-off handbags in Chinatown. She and Syd ventured into a tiny stall and disappeared. We thought they’d moved on down the street but couldn’t find them. Eventually they emerged having bought three purses. They told us about the saleslady whispering to them about a secret room. Before they knew it the back wall opened and they were whisked into an even tinier space crammed with more authentic counterfeits. NYC has cracked down on the vendors so in the stores the items are labeled with NYC tags. The back room had the same merchandise with Prada, Louis Vuitton, or whatever labels were appropriate to the style.

Shabbat

We went to 5:15pm services at Temple Emanuel. It’s the premier reform congregation in the world. Services were held in the chapel where only 80-90 of the 500+ seats were occupied. A police car with lights flashing sat outside the entire time and security guards searched bags before people entered. The senior of five rabbis led uninspired worship using Ashkenazic Hebrew pronunciation and the old Union Prayer Book. It was Syd’s and Janet’s first encounter with classical Reform Judaism. It was too bad the glorious voices of the choir and cantor chose dirge-like tunes. In fact, we felt as if the entire service and participants were performing the perfectly choreographed presentation under water. Music, movements, and speech were painfully slow. The congregation didn’t participate in singing as is typical of classical Reform. The entire event was a spectator sport. We could have phoned it in there was that much emotion. Afterwards, the rabbi asked David to do Kiddush and introduced him as a colleague he remembered from when they lived together in the dorm at Hebrew Union College. My David never lived in the dorm. We were married when he started HUC and had our own apartment.

We cabbed it back to Chinatown for dinner and took our time searching the streets until we were satisfied with the Chinese/Caucasian ratio in the restaurant. We chose. Mr. Tang’s. The food was divine even if the service was not. We only ordered three bowls of rice and from then on we got three of everything including wine glasses and fortune cookies.

We got back to the hotel on the early side and said our sad good-byes to the Bruces. They head for Japan for a few days before returning to Australia.

Toby

Scandinavia-The Big Apple

Aug. 9, 2006-Red Alert

Please feel free to share these emails with whomever you wish. Check to see if your spouse/partner gets it. I had to limit the list so please circulate them as you see fit.

It’s all my fault. Every time we leave on a trip I wonder if there will be anything to write about. This morning the terrorists provided me with plenty. In case you were living under a rock, there was a red alert for flights from Heathrow to NYC. No carry-on bags were allowed. The U.S. was imposing an orange alert. When we got to the Akron-Canton Airport at 7AM and went to check in at Air-Tran we were told that we had to remove all liquid, paste, and gel products from our carry-on. That included toothpaste, lotions, water, hair gel, lip-gloss. We grabbed our medicine from our cases and tossed our kits into checked luggage. We’ll re-organize when we get to New York. Amazingly, the flight left on time despite announcements that crews were delayed since they too were caught unawares and had to go through their bags and eliminate the “contraband.”

David went to buy something for breakfast and there was a guy ordering a beer. Mind you, it was 7AM. He asked us (rhetorically) if we saw a problem with having a beer that early. I took it as a legitimate question and answered that if he needed a beer at that hour he had a big problem. He then said that with what was going on with the airports today we all had problems.

The saddest part of this latest bit of terrorism is that the standard will now be set at a new level. Liquids, gels, and pastes will join the list of items to be confiscated along with nail clippers and cork screws. David agrees with me on profiling. It makes no sense to him if you’re looking for a white murderer to detain blacks. Why was the little old lady in front of us who was traveling with her church group made to undergo a physical search at security and at the gate? Why don’t we consult with the Israelis who don’t go through this nonsense & employ more humane methods? They talk to each passenger. That’s it, just talk. They’re trained to profile by behavior.

Aussie Connection

For those of you who didn’t know, Syd and Janet Bruce, our friends from Australia, stayed with us in Akron, drove through Canada and met us in NYC. They were waiting in our hotel lobby when we arrived. Our first stop was Katz’s deli on Houston in the Lower East Side. We gorged on pastrami sandwiches and were grossed out when we spotted two pastrami and American cheese sandwiches waiting to go. I thought that was illegal.

Janet had been urged by an uncle to go to Borough Park in Brooklyn. We headed there by subway after lunch. It was a long sad trek on the wrong train that involved much map reading, backtracking, and querying passers-by before we gave up and headed for the discount ticket booth. We scored tickets to The Color Purple only to be told that there were limited site lines. We opted for orchestra seats to The Wedding Singer. The theater is right across from our hotel, The Milford Plaza. We’ve stayed here before. It’s serviceable and in a great location.

While we were waiting in line for tickets, Syd was running around trying to cash American Express Traveler’s checks in U.S. dollars for U.S. dollars at any number of banks. He finally convinced someone to call AmEx and verify the numbers to make sure they were valid. The bank workers were singularly unhelpful and unfriendly. He had no trouble cashing the checks in Seattle and Toronto. Even though New York has worked on its user-friendly reputation there’s room for improvement. But, I must say that the women in Prospect Park who offered their condolences when telling us we were not in Borough Park were compassionate. The off-duty concierge on the subway who gave us various tips on getting to the TCKT kiosk, how we should have gotten to Borough Park, and information on timing our trip to JFK for our flight overseas was inspiring.

I’m already missing the kids. Alex is shopping for a dress for Homecoming. Talia will turn 4 Aug. 15, and Rylee is seven weeks old. She’ll be 10 1/2 weeks when we return. In an attempt to augment my guilt Daniel quietly mentioned that the second month of the life of a baby is the best. He went on to make sure I realized we’d be missing half of her life. That’s my boy! Well, I intend to be an integral part of the life of Rylee. She will never know what she missed those 3 1/2 weeks.

Afterwards

The Wedding Singer is a Mama Mia type musical set in New Jersey in 1985. It was a movie by the same name. I didn’t see the movie but the play was my kind of Broadway. The plot and lyrics were predictable but it was energetic, had raucous rock music with a strong beat, and fabulous staging. The cast was tops and their limber bodies covered the stage in an endless display of raw edgy sensuality. The costumes were reminiscent of some clothing at the Discovery Shop, a re-sale store where I volunteer. They were vintage.

We’re off to bed now. Tomorrow we’ll have new adventures.

Toby

Bolivia & Peru-Lost

March 11, 2006-?

We’re at a budget no-tell motel and we don’t know what town. David is looking for a phone book. We don’t even know what area code we’re in. We landed in Miami ahead of schedule so got pretty far down the road before we decided to stop for the night. What we didn’t realize was that it was spring break, there was a bike race on, the snowbirds were heading north, and spring training had begun. We pulled into several motels to find no rooms available. We even called the 800#s for chains and they couldn’t find us a room within an hour of where we were. We pulled off at a Holiday Express. They had no rooms but suggested the Check-In Motel next door. There they told David they only had a non-smoking room. They decided not to take any locals in tonight so it would be quiet. When we parked the car in our slot and opened the doors to get out we could smell the alcohol seeping through the cracks in the doors of the rooms. It could have been worse. In Perth, Australia we faced the same problem but the dark road we had to travel to the next town was full of kangaroos hopping into our path.

We had a few moments of panic when we went to use the sink in our room. It’s been three weeks since we’ve used anything but bottled water and it took a bit of courage to slosh our mouths after brushing and to take pills with water from the tap.

The trip in went smoothly except for the fact that Judi kept getting waylaid at security and customs. She set off the alarms even though she was careful to put her watch through the x-ray machine with her purse. It turned out to be her underwire bra that set off the bells. Then a customs agent asked her if she was traveling alone. She answered in the affirmative. He asked the purpose of her trip and she started to tell him the places she had been. At that point I said, “Tell him it was tourism.” For a moment I thought it might make matters worse since she said she was traveling alone. But he laughed and said he would like to hear about the details. Judi told him if he gave me his email address I’d send him my journal. He didn’t, and we scurried past him and on to get our luggage.

Aha! We are in the Melbourne area. How appropriate.

Toby

Bolivia & Peru-Lima Again

March 10, 2006- This and That

There was a 21-year old woman sitting next to us on the flight from Cusco to Lima. She was with a group of fourteen from Lynn College in Boca Raton, Florida. They’d all climbed the Inca Trail. It took four days and some of the men actually had to be carried part way on the backs of the porters. The porters wore sandals and moved uphill quickly. They also carried all the food, oxygen in case anyone needed it, fuel, tents, etc. The hikers didn’t shower for four days and when they finally emerged in Machu Picchu they burst into tears of relief.

Yvonne is our guide in Lima. She pointed out the orphanage on our way to the hotel. They have six hundred fifty children there. Across the street is the mental hospital. That’s probably where the staff spends its down time.

Yvonne filled us in on the upcoming presidential race in Peru. The three front-runners are a woman, a leftist, and a man who was president in the 1980’s when they had 800% inflation. He says he’s learned since then. The woman was slated to win in the last race but something happened and she didn’t. We suggested that they imported vote counters from Florida.

I had the worst lunch of the trip. The food, except for the guinea pig, has been fine to excellent but today was a bust for those who ordered fish. It came undercooked. We sent it back and it was passable but my plate had a hair on it. I sent it back again and the fish still didn’t taste right. I’ll be sure to mention this on the survey OAT will send.

We’re all so over the trip and ready to go home. Several didn’t go to the gold museum in the afternoon. We did. I slept on the way there. I missed the upscale neighborhoods and the American Embassy. I did see the pre-Incan step pyramid (circa 400-1300) made of sun-dried adobe bricks. That’s where most of the artifacts in the museum were found. The precious objects were sold to an individual collector who displayed them in what was his house and is now a museum. Pre-Incan gold was an alloy of gold, copper, and silver. Everything was gorgeous with the exception of the requisite mummies. There was no Inca gold to be seen. It had all been looted.

We made a last minute stop at the market to buy handicrafts. While Judi was negotiating Nina came up to us. She said that Phil was bargaining for t-shirts. David asked her if he was good at that. She said that he thinks he is but the last time he made a deal the vendor price was $5.00. Phil got him down to $4.00 and 1 sole. That works out to $5.50.

I didn’t think we were eating dinner as a group tonight. That would have been too bad. We lived with most of these people for three weeks and our good-byes were cursory as we went to our rooms after the museum tour. There was a final banquet on the Amazon cruise since it was a part of the tour that everyone went on. This last part was an add-on so it doesn’t merit a banquet. I don’t know if we’ll be in touch with any of them in the future but they were a remarkably compatible group. We were free to have dinner in the hotel dining room on our own schedule. As it turned out we all showed up at the same time and had an unscheduled farewell dinner.

We wake at 6:30AM to fly back to Miami. We should arrive there at 4:30PM. We hope to drive a few hours before stopping. Most of you will be reading the last emails after we’re home. Thank you for being so faithful.

Toby

Back in Cusco

March 9, 2006-Revelations
(Photos:Arrival at Sun Gate,
Aguas Calientes,
Guinea pig ranch)

When we arrived at Machu Picchu at 8:30AM it was hidden behind clouds. As we walked onto the path the curtain of fog rose as if a great performance was about to occur. The star was the Incan sacred village that only had a small permanent population. It wasn’t a living city but a holy city where pilgrims came.

Jesus gave us a breathing lesson before we chose which path we wanted to take: the one to the Sun Gate or the one to the Inca bridge. He reminded us to breathe in through our nose and out through the mouth and to go slowly, slowly. I always have to remember to relax my shoulders too. After the climb, a bit too late, Delores who hikes in Colorado, told us that placing hands on hips opens the chest so the lungs can work more efficiently. Only nine chose the harder climb to the Sun Gate. Judi, David, and I were among them. I decided I didn’t want to exhaust myself to the point of not being able to complete the climb so I went at a snails pace and rested frequently.
The first twenty minutes was straight up uneven steps and a rock-encrusted path. The rocks weren’t placed there but looked as if they fell randomly into their spots. Some carrying backpacks found they were at a disadvantage and were top heavy. The path eventually widened to about five feet. Of course there were no railings of the hand or guard variety. The colors of the granite fascinated me. The most striking were the teal green and those that were the color of lapis lazuli.

This was a 1½-mile climb to the top. Halfway there I decided that the Incas were loco. Buddhists did it right. Their temples are on mountaintops but tour buses can access them. Then the tourists are only faced with climbing a few less than three-hundred steps. Somewhere along the way I went ahead of Judi and David. At that point Judi gave me her camera. I thought they’d eventually turn around and return to the main site. I knew they wouldn’t get past a huge boulder that I had to scramble up. The only way down that boulder was sliding on my tusch.

Every once in a while the path leveled out. These were teasers to make hikers think the worst was over. I met a man coming down and asked him how much farther it was. He said, “Poquito.” I was relieved. That was the first time I thought I was near the top. The second was when I reached a terrace with stone columns. There was a group settled in and I thought I’d arrived. I let out a whoop of joy then realized none of my group was there. A husky dog was settled in for a nap and I felt sorry he had such a heavy coat. Another guide told me that was the halfway point.
That’s when I started to curse the Incas. After another half hour of scrambling I saw Wendy and French from our group. They were leaning on a wall and taking pictures. I called out to them and they waved me up. It was just a rest stop for them.

As I approached what I hoped was the final flight of steps I noticed llama poo on the ground. This is their home but I couldn’t figure out why they’d want to go that high. Then the husky lapped me. As he ran past his tongue wasn’t even hanging out.

Once I got to the sun gate the view was spectacular. It’s from that spot that all the poster shots are taken. The sun gate itself was so-so. It was rocks, pillars, windows, niches. The thrill was in the climb and view. I would climb the Sydney Harbour Bridge again any day compared to this.

David and Judi had stopped at the halfway point. David didn’t go any farther. Judi walked on ten-minutes more. They’d managed to get past that boulder. Now we had to go in reverse. Going down is faster but more dangerous. I paid attention to every placement of every step I made. It was easy to be distracted since there was no more labored breathing. We all even managed to scuttle down the boulder on our feet.

As we passed climbers going up my heart went out to them and I pitied them for they were ignorant of what was ahead. This was so much harder than any stress test I’ve ever taken. I love to climb on rocks and was in hog heaven even though I didn’t like the heavy breathing on the way up. I’m selective about when I want to do heavy breathing.

David had a good point about the entire site. He said that if Disney were running it there’d be a cable car to the top with a refreshment stand waiting at the scenic overlook and maybe a t-shirt kiosk. Even the Israelis have a cable car option at Massada.

The plan was for us to individually take the bus down and meet at a restaurant at noon. As we careened around the switchback curves we saw two little boys waving at us. The driver stopped to pick one up. A few curves later we saw the second boy again. He was running down the steps through the hillside and intercepting us. Each time we’d wave and shout, “Ola” and he would too. This happened several times until the driver let him on. He stood at the front of the bus as we continued down and he let out with a chant-like greeting in Quechua then proceeded down the aisle asking for money. Most people gave him a sole so that he made out with about thirty soles the equivalent of $10. He had a good thing going. He hopped the next bus going up and started over. I don’t think he made that much on each run, but it was a creative way to solicit and it was entertainment for tourists. When we got off the bus in Aguas Calientes I did a little victory dance. Mission accomplished!

The Descent

We’d thought the view from our hotel in Aguas Calientes was of a construction site. But today we saw that people were living in it. It was bare concrete block construction with no windows and building material strewn around. The lotus in the mud was a green and red parrot enjoying the cool morning breeze. I hope he gets along with the rooster who crowed at dawn.

We had a few minutes before lunch and decided to shop. As I turned around to go up two steps to the street I tripped. How ironic would that be if I got hurt after the climb?

As we boarded the train for Cusco after lunch it began to rain. It was perfect timing. Once again our luggage was piled in front of one of the doors. Fortunately it was not the door that kept opening. At one point the train stopped. It seemed ominous but it was only to let a piece of equipment clear the tracks. While we waited a little girl came out of the hills waving and posing for photos.

We met our bus at a village called Ollantaytambo. Before we got on we had a brief walking tour. The whole town is built on Incan foundations and original Incan aqueducts are still in use. As we walked a funeral procession passed. It turned out that Jesus knew the deceased. The mourners were dressed in brightly hued traditional garb and the women had real flowers perched on top of their flat-brimmed hats. A black casket was being carried aloft on the shoulders of six pallbearers and wobbled as they made their way along the stone walkway. With each tip and tilt the lid bounced open a fraction of an inch.

We arrived at the “typical local” stone house with thatched roof, dirt floor, loft, and niches. What was atypical to us although not to the village was that in the niches were the skulls of ancestors, dried meat hung from the beams, three llama fetuses were prominently displayed on the wall (remember they bring good luck to a new home), and two dozen guinea pigs were underfoot. The other dozen pregnant females were cordoned off in a wooden mini-guinea corral.

Sidelights

On the ride to our next stop Jesus decided we needed to know the “truth” about Incas and human sacrifice. He said that in 1991 scientists found a young girl buried high on a mountaintop. Her skull had been bashed in and they declared it to be evidence that she was sacrificed. The Andean view is that pre-Incans left information about human sacrifice in the way of pictures on their ceramics and weavings. The Spanish Chronicles mention Aztec and Mayan human sacrifice. Since human sacrifice was so alien to the Spanish why did they never mention Incan sacrifice? Why did the Incas never draw about it on their ceramic-ware and weave it into their tapestries? He theorizes that the young girl with the hole in her skull could have died of natural causes after a fall. She might have been from an important family and to honor her she was buried high on the mountain.

We pulled off the road to look at a cactus. I was unimpressed until Americo (yes he is back) brought white bugs on the bus from the cactus flowers. He squeezed them and red stuff came out. Jesus told us that the bug innards were used by Andean women for lipstick. As this was going on he called to an eight year old boy to come on board. He held the bus microphone up to the child and asked him questions. The boy had no compunctions about speaking to us. He pointed to the field where his parents were working and said that he goes to school in the morning but then comes home to help in the fields.

One of the advantages of going part way by bus is that we could make all these interesting side-trips. Our next stop was at a bar. There are no signs outside that say “bar.” Instead they use a long pole with a red plastic bag attached to the end as a marker. An old Incan custom I’m sure. We had a contest in the courtyard where we played the game called Frog. There was a stand with a metal frog in it. The goal was to toss a metal disk into the frogs mouth. There were other holes in the stand where the disk could go through and drop in a drawer. Each hole had a different number of points. It was men against women. We whomped them thanks to Judi who was our high scorer. We all retired to the barroom to taste chicha a corn beer. Those who tasted it described it as vile. One woman said she heard that women used to make it and chew the corn thinking their saliva made it tastier. She remarked that it couldn’t have hurt and might have been true.

We’re back at our hotel in Cusco and settling in for the night. We had to run the gauntlet of child-vendors outside our hotel when we went to dinner. They call out their names in hopes that we will remember them. When we say, “No gracias” they call out, “Maybe later.” What are their names? One calls himself Pablo Picasso. The other is Robert de Niro. They know we won’t forget those. We wake up at 5:15AM tomorrow to catch a flight back to Lima. I can hear you all laughing. You know how late we can sleep at home.

Toby