Japan Day 7 – Kyoto

Japan’s ancient Capital is known worldwide for the variety of temples, gardens and cherry trees, which, unfortunately for us, had already lost their blossoms and had started to sprout leaves. One of the fascinating parts of our trip is that traveling across this country, which extends for hundreds of kilometers north to south, we can literally witness all the phases of the Spring season, from early to late conditions.
We immediately walked to the main temple, which at the time was being refurbished. The hangar built for the occasion wa so big it could comfortably hold an Airbus A380; the temple is just as impressive, one cannot stop to look at it in awe and feel so tiny next to it. A guide we met there, or rather who came to meet us because he felt like practicing some English, just like many Japanese we have met before, told us that the temple is around one thousand years old and is built entirely in wood without the use of a single nail. Really impressive. Needless to say, the best lenses for the job would be a wide angle and a macro. We walked for about 10 minutes to a hostel described in our Lonely Planet guide, which, since our trip to Peru, has become our favorite guide. The hostel was very pretty and modern looking, painted in nice bright and relaxing colors, but unfortunately full. We have a tendency not to book much, if anything, in advance. We travel with a very flexible schedule, listening to what locals or other fellow travelers have to say about a particular place and take it from there. Too often people travel thousands of miles to end up in your typical overpopulated tourist destinations, not us. Although there are occasions when we feel we need to see why a place is so popular, we leave plenty time to explore countries off the usual tourist path. We try to understand why locals like certain places and absorb as much of their culture as we can. Sometimes, as in this case, there are drawbacks, like not finding a room in a recommended place, but not all is lost; with a positive attitude something good always comes out, and so it was. The girl at the reception called several other places for us but at a time like that nothing was available. This is Kyoto, and every person who visits Japan from another country visits Kyoto, without counting the thousands of tourists arrived from all parts of Japan itself. In less than an hour, though, we found a hostel near the Imperial Palace; we hopped on the subway and after walking around the neighborhood for a while and asking several times for direction (remember: Japan has no addresses) we arrived at the door of what seemed like an abandoned building. The inside was dark (and scary) but it was clean; our room was located in the back of the building at the top of a tight staircase, it was small, had no windows and was nearly pitch black. The good news was that nobody else was occupying it, and the other good news was that the hostel had bicycle rentals for the equivalent of $5 a day.

We could not have asked for better weather, the sun was warm and the sky deep blue without a cloud, for the first time since our arrival in Japan. We traded our preferred method of transportation (our feet) for two bikes and set out to explore this beautiful and intriguing city. People use bicycles a lot in Japan, including the major cities, but there are no bike paths so bikers use the sidewalks (except on crossroads, where there are bike paths used to cross the intersection). The typical Japanese courtesy behavior applies: everyone else has the right of way.
The further we moved away from the central area and the main train station and the more we felt like we were entering an immense garden, it’s quite easy to understand why this city is nicknamed the “Garden City.” With our bikes we pedaled along the bank of one of the rivers that cut the city in different areas enjoying this magnificent day to the fullest, until we found our way to the municipal gardens. We spent hours taking macro and close-up photos of tulips exploding in a myriad of colors and other beautiful flowers. The garden, which looked more and more like a canvas, was painted with small ponds and creeks, and also had a sizeable collection of bonsai. Crossing a wooded area we were surprised to find ourselves surrounded by large cherry trees in blossom and a very peaceful view: an older lady, sitting against a cherry tree, was drawing the pink scenery on a large pad. I snapped some photos of what would become one of my fondest memories of this trip.
Once back on the saddle of our bikes we slowly rolled once again along the river toward the Gion area, while enjoying a spectacular sunset. Gion is one of the most popular areas, if not the most popular, of Kyoto. It’s here that it is still possible to catch a glimpse of a real Geisha or a Maiko (the apprentice) and when we arrived the place was bustling with activity while an incessant flow of people moved in all directions, as attracted by the many lights. The street which cuts this quarter in half, with its cherry trees and river dancing on the side, is often referred to as the most beautiful street in all of Asia and it’s hard not to agree; regardless of the never-ending movement it gave us a sense of calm.

The neon lights of the shops combined with the light from the lanterns hanging outside of restaurants, and the street was dense with the odors of a myriads of foods prepared in the many restaurants of the area. We ventured in a darker and less populated street, looking for something more original and walked in front of a quaint restaurant with a large water tank by the entrance in which swam squid and other fish.

After peaking inside we knew we had found what we were looking for: four chefs were busy preparing food on a show-kitchen style counter, and the place was full with local people, no foreign tourists in sight. The waiter sat us at the counter where we quickly found ourselves absorbed in watching the cooks prepare their dishes with an elegant speed. After looking at the menu we quickly decided we wanted to try everything on it, and so we did; that was easily the best sashimi I ever had, and portions were very generous. Other than sashimi and sushi in all flavors we had several fish soups and dishes prepared with octopus, squid and shrimps. This was by far the most expensive meal we had in Japan; the two of us spent, including Sake, $61/€39. The same meal back home in Jackson would have easily been around $200.
We rolled out of the restaurant and spent an hour walking around trying to digest our lucullian meal before we jumped on our bikes and headed toward our scary hostel. I was in bed by 10pm, a record in this trip of late nights and sunrise awakenings.

Japan Day 6 – Takayama

Another early morning in our schedule with the train taking us to Takayama, a pretty town at the feet of the mountains well known for its Spring Festivals.We intended to spend the night there but all the hotels had been booked months in advance because of the local festivities. The landscape we experienced crossing the Japan Alps  has been quite different than whatwe have seen in the past few days.  Running along the bank of a river for a good part of the itinerary, the train took us through valleys and canyons, blooming cherry trees, country style houses, waterfalls and snow capped mountains.

Parade Float in Takayama

What made the trip even more interesting was the commentary, both in Japanese and English, broadcasted through the loudspeakers whenever we reached a location of particular interest. The breathtaking landscape had a definite alpine flavor, the name Japan Alps seemed quite appropriate.

Once in Takayama we got off the train, by now packed full with people, and once collected the Festival Program at the tourist office we headed toward center town on foot. It wasn’t long after leaving the station that we found ourselves in front of a shop full of crates overflowing with local delicacies. Every item was available from sampling and between a tasting of  vegetables, fruit, meat, fish, and an incredible variety of desserts we easily spent over half hour there. We were quite intrigued by some ash colored semi-sweet tablets that, Lindsey pointed-out, tasted like… dust. I became immediately addicted to the flavor while Lindsey disliked them at first but days later she was asking for them. Back on our trail we soon discovered that this town offered a lot of sampling, and it’s without any shame that we let that take care of our lunch, after all this was a cultural trip and we needed to understand the locals at all levels. Overall people were eager to let us try their cuisine and they encouraged the sampling.


The town was inundated by tourists arrived from all sides of the country and in certain streets it was very difficult to walk at a normal pace, in particular on one of the main streets where dozens of kiosks and tents, lined up on the river bank, offered anything from local sake to roasted fillets of trout on a skewer. We crossed a beautiful orange bridge and strolled on the main square, now lively with people in traditional and historical costumes, decorated floats used in the parade. It was not hard at all, for a second, to close our eyes and feel transported back to the land of the Shogun and Samurai.
We decided to escape the town for a moment for a chance to get a bird’s view of it and hiked up a steep road that continued on a narrow trail which took us to the top of a hill. The peacefulness of the forest was a nice contrast to the bustling scene below us and for a while we enjoyed until we got brought back to reality by the sounds of flutes, drums and we walked the steep slope back to watch the parade and the puppet show. Takayama has a fascinating history and traditions and the parade narrates it with the use of costumes, music and dances.

Sampling local food

We enjoyed the rest of the day walking around the many temples of which this city is rich and ate a Bento box and some delicious Kobe beef on a stick on the side of the river next to an old bridge before heading back in the evening to the train station, where our train to Nagoya left, without any surprise, perfectly on time.

Japan Day 5 – Magome and Sumago

Departure was once again perfectly on time with destination: Nakatsugawa, a small mountain town. The ride, which lasted one hour and 20 minutes from Matsumoto, took us through valleys, rivers and high mountains. Our train silently devoured the tracks and it felt like being in the Italian Alps: breathtaking views of the surrounding mountains, some of which still covered in snow, lush forests, bridges and valleys crisscrossed by rivers and streams. Lulled by the movement of the train Lindsey dozed off on her seat and missed some of the best views we faced on our railroad journey. The ticket taker did his round and, as customarily, before leaving the car turned around toward the passenger and bowed, I involuntarily compared him to our ticket takers who will seldom even say “hello” or “thank you.”

Our stay in Nakatsugawa was quite shot, enough to hop on a local bus toward the small mountain town of Magome on a ride that lasted about 30 minutes. Magome is one of those historical post towns that most foreign tourists wrongly dismiss but are popular with local tourists. It’s that kind of place that could be used to represent your typical country town in a Japanese postcard: The main road leading up on a somewhat steep hill cuts the town in two with a stream on one side and blooming cherry trees on the opposite. Small shops and restaurants open up on both sides offering local products and specialties from the area. At the bottom of the hill a watermill spun feverishly outside of a temple from which a smell of incense and smoke came out.
The air was surprisingly warmer than Matsumoto, regardless of the altitude gain and we stripped off of our heavier clothes to wear shorts and t-shirt. The town was lively with Japanese visitors and the many stores were busy offering samples of their products. This made Lindsey feel like a kid in a candy store as she had made a habit to sample everything that was available and often made a full lunch out of it. People seemed genuinely happy to feed us with their products, which, in this region are centered on honey and chestnuts. Arrived at the visitor center we dropped our backpacks there, taking advantage of a delivery service which transports the luggage to the nearby town of Sumago, leaving hikers free of unnecessary weight. The over the mountains 5 miles / 8Km long hike was by no means what our seasoned Jackson Hole legs would consider a strenuous hike. Camera in hand we started the uphill trail and soon found ourselves out of town. Up and down on several mountains we crossed cultivated fields, waterfalls, streams and woods and often stopped to scratch an itch on our shutter fingers. Several times we were crossed by large groups of older people going the opposite directions and taking the easier, paved road who, every time we met, exploded in a choir of “konnichi-wa”. We replied we just as much enthusiasm. Even today, well over a year after our adventure in Japan, when hiking and crossing somebody, Lindsey and I look at each other whispering “konnichi-wa.”
Crossing the Japanese countryside was part of my childhood dreams about Japan and I was grateful that I grabbed the chance and made it happen.
In the mid-afternoon we finally arrived in Sumago, similar in style to Magome but smaller and somewhat tighter in construction. All buildings are made of a dark wood, probably cherry and reminiscent of the age of the samurai. I expected to be jumped by a few ninjas any time. It did look exactly like the towns from the Japanese animation of my youth: Ken the warrior, Sasuke the samurai and Ninja Kamui. We were a bit overwhelmed by it all: the passing of people, the view of the mountains, the smell of wood mixed to the one of soup coming out of the many soba shops on the street and the variety of colors so we sat down on a bench and took it all in, as a light drizzle fell on us covering the place of a gray veil.
Having picked up our backpacks from the tourist office we hopped on a bus to the near town of Nagiso, a mere 10 minutes away, were we caught a train to Nagoya, the fourth biggest city in Japan. Nagoya welcomed us with torrential rain, a real deluge, of which I will not see the like until a year later in Scotland.
Ninjas and dragons don’t scare us, and neither does the rain. After exploring the maze of shops in the basement of the station, we ventured in the city. We noticed immediately how flourishing it was with its big brand name shops everywhere, from chocolatiers to high fashion. It seemed for a moment to be back in Tokyo with its large roads and neon lights, but moving away from the station was enough to discover another city within the city, one that felt much smaller and less overwhelming. It felt as if we arrived in a different place than the city where we were just a few minutes before. Fifteen minutes later we found our hostel, with a name just as long and unpronounceable as there ever was, and by far the biggest hostel we ever saw: 8 floors and 2 wings. The lady at the reception was of an exquisite kindness, I won’t remember her name, but I remember those people who make me feel at home. We asked and were given a Japanese style room, with tatami and tea service as we had in Matsumoto’s Ryokan. Upstairs we had common showers and even an Onsen. We decided to spend two nights here and use Nagoya as hub for our next two days so that we don’t have to carry our heavy backpacks with us. Our next visit is to Takayama where we will have a chance to see an authentic Spring Festival, all hotels there are full because of it.
Curry around here is quite popular and cheap therefore curry shops are to be found everywhere. That was our dinner.

Japan Day 4 – Matsumoto

The third morning in the Land of the Rising Sun started well before sunrise. I’m a morning person, and that helps a lot when you are a photographer as you want to be up early in order to catch the best light. As we opened the front door of the Ryokan we realized that the Castle was right in front of us, the night before we could not see it, it took us exactly two minutes to walk to it. Even if the sun wasn’t up yet, there was enough light to see every detail. The area was not deserted as one might have expected, but lively with old people taking a morning stroll and photographers checking their gear. We walked around the moss, inhabited by large Koi fish and huge swans and passed by a group of Japanese teenagers who were having a breakfast picnic on the grass in the castle’s park. They smiled and waved at us at our sight and we reciprocated. I figured foreign visitors were not popular that time of the year. I sat up my tripod and started playing with my camera setting while Lindsey took off for her daily jog. A few hours later we rejoined to take a tour of the castle itself and stepped within the walls, inside the inner gardens. The gardens cover a large area and our timing was just perfect: the cherry trees were in full bloom and painted the courtyard with patches of white, red and pink: a spectacular display of nature that has made Japan famous worldwide. By mid morning the place was full of visitors of all ages so after some time spent photographing the exterior we stepped in to learn a bit of the castle history and architecture. The castle was built by orders of the local Shogun (Lord) fearing an attack that never happened. The inside was made entirely in wood and dark with small windows, a nice contrast to the blue-heron colors of the outside. To reach the top floor we had to climb a staircase with a pitch of nearly 60 degrees letting room for some people to come down. 60 degrees is really steep.

Ended the visit to the castle we visited the adjacent museum which had a collection of objects from many different centuries and offered a wider explanation of the history of this region. Much of it was written in English.
After splitting and consuming a giant and very tasty hamburger (about 15cm / 12” wide) we strolled around town to get a better idea of what Matsumoto looked like and search for new photographic opportunities. Matsumoto counts nearly 300 thousand people, and yet it feels like being in a very small town, people are relaxed and the stress of city life is not felt.
Once back in the Ryokan we planned for the following day and headed out to dinner where we found a Soba restaurant, where, after being welcomed by the old owner, he cooked from scratch two delicious bowls of soba while we watched. We were the only people inside and appreciated the care he out in preparing our food, we decided that was the best soba we had had until then.
We packed our bags and managed to be in bed by 10.

Japan Day 3 – Out of Tokyo and Old Castles

There’s something about waking up in a foreign country. Even early mornings always start with a smell of excitement at the possible adventures that will present themselves to us. Waking up in Japan was no different. The rain was coming down slowly but rather than being bothersome it added to the atmosphere. Before leaving for this trip I had planned a series of shots that I intended to execute and some of them were based on neon lights reflecting off pools of water on the streets. The weather was playing in my favor.

Lindsey and I happily walked around Shinjuku for most of the day and in the evening even ventured in a theater to watch part of a Kabuki play. Kabuki is a highly stylized Japanese dance-drama type of play, we had to let our imagination free here as it was too complex to understand and my rudimentary notion of the Japanese language could not come to the rescue. So, instead, we made up our own story and pretended that the actors where saying things that, most likely, were the opposite of what they were actually saying, turning the drama into a comedy.

Since my arrival in Japan I took the decision to use the little Japanese I know and try to get better at it. I have always been good at languages and I enjoy learning new ones and communicate with local people in their language. This was going to take a considerable effort. I already noticed that when I’d address Japanese people in their language they’d reply with an avalanche of words that would have scared even the most seasoned member of the American Avalanche Association. Japanese people love to talk to strangers, that much is clear; my hope for an easy and concise answer was often smashed by a lengthy answer full of details that I could sometimes grasp, some other times pretend to grasp, but always ending with a polite bow and big smile on both parties.
On our third day in Japan we took the shinkansen for Nagano, famous for the 1998 Winter Olympics. Japanese trains are famous worldwide not just for their speed but also for their timeliness; in fact our train departed Tokyo perfectly on time and arrived perfectly on time. In Japan a train is considered “late” if it departs over 3 minutes from the scheduled time. In many countries a train is not considered late if it departs at all.
Nagano is located in the central part of the Japan Alps, therefore surrounded by mountains. With over a million people it is certainly not a small town, and yet one can feel the difference with a city like Tokyo. It has the mood of a mountain town, a slightly overgrown mountain town perhaps, but fascinating nonetheless. With peaks towering in front of us and valleys behind, the name Alps for this mountain chain seems quite appropriate.
Once left our backpacks in the station lockers (lockers are available at all stations. I applaud a country that doesn’t get intimidated by terrorism) we strolled up one of the main roads away from the center with just the essentials (our cameras) toward the temples area. The walk of about two kilometers took us across the city through building that grew steadily smaller as we moved away from the station and a cool breeze that filled our lungs with mountain air. The temples we visited were truly impressive: the wood hand worked with incisions of an indescribable care and decorations made in the minutest details. I took photos of every corner and niche I could find, outside as well as inside (with the due respect to the local deities)
It wasn’t before late that our stomachs were growling and we looked for a small restaurant recommended by a nice lady at the information office back at the station. It only took us a few minutes to find it. When the lady said it was small she really meant it, it had a total of six tables. The price of the plates was good for such a popular and historical place, being located just outside of the gardens of the main temple. With just around $10 / 6.50 Euros we ate several things including a generous bowl of soba with freshly made Udon noodles. The waitress did not speak English and the menu was Japanese only and I was proud of myself for making a real effort and communicate with her in her language and being able to understand most of the menu. After just three days I had noticed a serious improvement in my reading skills, at least as long as the text is written in katakana and hiragana. I admit I didn’t know much, but what I knew was enough to get me by. After lunch we stopped by the main temple again to listen to a monk playing the drum. The sound had a defined cadence and was repetitive and it fit perfectly the grey and windy day. On the way back to the station we stopped at a large bookstore to examine some books on local geography and see if by their photos we could find new great places to explore. We don’t like planning too much in advance as that tends to put us on a path that doesn’t allow for changes. When we plan day by day we remain open to unexpected itineraries, particularly after talking to the locals.
Once retrieved our luggage at the station we hopped on another shinkansen (we surely love our unlimited rail pass), this time heading to Matsumoto. With major disappointment our train left late: 3 seconds (I had my watch synchronized with the station’s clock). Needless to say we arrived perfectly on time and walked in the dark (just like in Europe all streets are well lit) toward the Ryokan that we booked in the morning. Ryokan are similar to an old style inn, usually run by a Japanese family and the service is exquisitely Japanese. This was our first Ryokan so we were excited at the idea of trying a type of hotel that caters mostly to Japanese clientele, and foreign tourists like us, who like to immerse themselves in the culture of the country they visit. In fact, when we called to book, the lady who answered (in English fortunately) asked us if Japanese accommodation was ok with us.
After a not too long walk, during which somebody came out of their house to help us find our way, we arrived at the entrance to Matsumoto Castle and our Ryokan just outside of it. At $30/night it was quite a bargain. At the small reception sat an old lady with an old grandma smile; one of those people you want to hug the first time you see them. For some reason unbeknownst to us she decided that we understood Japanese perfectly and started giving us all sort of information. Saying that we were overwhelmed was quite an understatement but at the same time we were highly amused.
Fortunately after a while, a period short enough during which she could have recited the first two chapter of “Hamlet,” she called the lady with whom I spoke on the phone (her daughter) who helped us to our accommodation. As we enter we were pleasantly surprised: the room wasn’t huge, but much bigger than we expected and cozy. Two tatami mats sat rolled up on the floor against one wall on top of a straw mat; hanging on two hooks on the wall we found a set of night kimonos. An old TV with VCR as well as low table with a tea set on it decorated the room, which had its own shower and (tiny) bath tub. Simple old curtains ornate the window and a few decorative panels hang from the walls. In the bathroom we even found toothbrushes, toothpaste and shaving razors. In our countries we don’t even find these amenities in hotels that cost you $200 a night.
Our Ryokan is located just outside of the castle, which is an international heritage monument. We went out looking for a place to eat and walking around small streets at night, moving away from the tourist area we came by a restaurant packed with locals. The menu was entirely in kanji so unintelligible to either one of us, but seeing a restaurant filled with local people is always a good sign so, after building up a little bit of courage, we walked in. The place was quite large, most tables were occupied and the air was heavy with the smoke of cigarettes. Japan, for all the great things it has going for itself, unfortunately it’s one of those country were a large percentage of the population smokes and smoking is allowed nearly everywhere. As a non smoker I feel bothered by the fumes, but I, and Lindsey as well, decided that we were in for the cultural aspect of it. The waitress brought us in the back room and we sat on the mats with crossed legs at our low table imitating everyone else. Had it not been for my Mediterranean complexion and Lindsey’s bright green eyes nobody could have ever guessed that we were not locals. To our surprise the waitress gave us a sheet with an approximate translation of the menu in English, but being great Japanese food lovers we decided to go with our original plan, which was ordering pretty much everything in the menu. We shared some Okonomiyaki (a type of omelet, one of our favorite dishes, the mountains version here being slightly different than what I was accustomed to. I introduced Lindsey to it a month before our trip when I invited my friend Sugi over to my place and together we cooked Japanese dinner), a rice dish with tiny sardines (the smallest I had ever seen, almost too cute to eat) and a cold chicken-based dish, among other things. Dinner was delicious and, regardless of the smoke, the ambient was comfortable and jovial. We left the joint quite happy to have lived a full-immersion cultural experience rather than spending time in the usual touristic places. Off the beaten path: that’s our motto.

Once back at the inn, we put the tea service to good use brewing some green tea and set our alarm clock for an early wake up call. It was 11 pm.

Japan Day 1 and 2 – Tokyo

I had dreamt of visiting Japan since I was a kid. When I thought of it I painted in my mind images of big cities, rolling hills, cherry blossoms and tall mountains. In college I took Japanese as an elective because my fascination with this country didn’t fade as I grew up and listening to my Japanese native teacher speaking conjured up the images I had as a kid. After three failed attempts, it finally came the day when I was going to see all this with my own eyes… and my camera’s “sensor”; at last a photographic trip across Japan. The 12 hours between Houston and Tokyo were spent watching movies and absorbing the

Rainy Day in Tokyo

information contained in my faithful Lonely Planet guide and it wasn’t long before the landing gear touched down on Japanese land. Nihon e irasshai mase, welcome to Japan,

pronounced the flight attendant.

I wasn’t even out of the gangway and I already had a grin on my face that I couldn’t wash out. My first mission was finding the travel agency on the ground level where I could exchange my voucher for an unlimited use 14 days train pass and meet up with my friend Lindsey who was arriving on a different flight. The agency was easy to find and Lindsey showed up an hour later, right on time.

Those of you who read my Peru blog will remember that on that occasion Lindsey showed up three hours late, making me wonder if she’d show up at all.

Getting to Tokyo was easy and the train ride across the countryside was enjoyable. At the station we met a lady from Singapore who made a trip to Japan to admire the cherry blossoms (sakura) her yearly pilgrimage. Her fluency in Japanese helped us get some subway tickets to Asakusa, the part of Tokyo where we were staying, but somehow managed to get us lost inside the train station. I rarely get lost, my inner compass seems to work quite well even in pl

aces I have never been to before, it must be a sense that gets developed with years of traveling, but I followed her because it seemed she knew where she was going… so we thought. Once we found ourselves again, and the right train, we ended up in Hasakusa. It was dark. The very pleasant lady from Singapore was still with us as she had not booked a hotel and trusted that we had made the right choice. All we had was the address to our hostel and my knowledge, gained in college, that Japanese streets don’t have names and therefore when people tell you how to get to a place they often draw a map or ask the police which, not unlike Scotland, major task is to help people find their way. I remembered a nightmare I had months before when I dreamt of being a pizza delivery guy in Tokyo, I had woken up with a sense of panic.

Prayer at the Temple

I saw a police kiosk on the opposite side of the street and asked, in a rusty Japanese that had not seen a grammar book since college, for directions. Out of professional deformation, I have no idea why I did that, I also asked where was the closest camera shop. The police was very friendly but even after they consulted their maps for a while their directions didn’t help much. We ended up walking for about thirty minutes to finally get to destination, and find out that the hostel was just 5 minutes walk from the subway station we got out of, had we taken the right path. Lesson learned. We stopped at the bar downstairs for a little while to talk to the other hostel residents and ask about their experiences then called it a night. I pretty much fell asleep as soon as I hit the bed and slept deeply in the silence of the night (no sarcasm, it was really quiet).

Peru Day 4 & 5 – Huacachina

The alarm clock rang at 5am. I wanted to get out early and take a walk in the desert to photograph the dunes at sunrise since last night we didn’t get to see much in the dark. At 5 there’s light already, I keep forgetting I am under the equator line. This is my first time under the equator so it’s still a bit of a reason to wonder; the sky is different, I don’t recognize any stars. We walked for a while (after five minutes you realize that all those movies of people running in the desert are fake, there is no running here, walking takes too much energy already), I shot many photos of the dunes and the oasis seen from above. It gives me a feeling of being in Morocco, never been there but from the photos I’ve seen this is what it reminds me of… actually it sounds like I need to fit Morocco in one of my next trips.
There was some fog and therefore we did not see the sunrise, and only around eight, when the sky showed itself a bit, we saw that the sun was already high. I missed the warm sunrise light. Too bad, it will be for next time.

Dunes are BIG and STEEP… no avalanches here though

We laid down on the sand (very thin, the thinnest I have ever seen, but it doesn’t stick because it’s not humid and there’s no salt) and we enjoyed this morning in the Peruvian desert. Back at the oasis, at 9:30, we had breakfast and then did the desert tour in a Dune Buggie and tried a hand at sandboarding, it’s like snowboarding but you gotta go straight, speed is ridiculous and you can’t stop unless you throw yourself down, fall, or reach the end of the slope (which typically ends with falling hard after what must feel like when you drop out of Warp Speed if those dampeners are malfunctioning). We had tons of fun; in  our group there was a German girl who had just visited Chile by herself and will be traveling until January when her boyfriend meets her, and together they will travel South America until April; there were also 3 Israeli and one American.
We had sand everywhere… back at the hostel Lindsey and I took a nice swim in the pool (wish I had more time to tan, the sun is strong here and it’s barely spring. Scorching hot!). We met some people and had dinner with them, that was the end of a long, exhausting and fantastic day.

I removed some more sand from my pockets and after breakfast we lingered around the oasis for some more photography and a bit of relaxation, then in the afternoon we took a cab to Ica. There, we wondered the streets a little without getting too far from the populated center while we waited for the time to catch our next bus. Regardless of the recent earthquake and destruction the town was bustling with an ongoing flow of people, this probably would have been a good opportunity for a photo reporter, but that’s not my kind of photography, so I just enjoyed walking around and mixing up with the crowd. We also quickly discovered that this town knows the art of pastry making, in one of the bakeries we saw we had, what we agreed was, the best strudel we ever had. I could go back to Ica just for that. In the late afternoon we finally boarded our bus to Nazca and after a few hours spent staring at the desert out of our windows we arrived.

The Peru Travel Adventure continues here

Peru Day 3 – Lima and Huacachina

Cultivated fields between Lima and Ica

In the morning we walked around Lima. The hostel owner was very nice and showed us around, then took us to the bus station of the company Cruz del Sur to get our tickets. The hospitality of the people in Peru by far exceeded our expectations. We were shown the direction to a Peruvian restaurant to calm our growling stomachs and ate a huge plate of Lomo Saltado (stripes of beef, cooked in a pan with an awesome sauce and mixed with french fries, red onions and red peppers). The portions were very generous, a plate would have been enough for three people, but that didn’t stop us from finishing the place. The price including drink (a pitcher of Chicha Morada, a sweetish, non-alcoholic, non-carbonated drink made with red corn and fruit) was barely $3.

After lunch we took the express bus to Ica. It was a very comfortable 2 floors bus with chairs reclining almost completely, a TV playing movies and one bathroom on each floor. Downstairs was the location of the first class, with completely reclining chairs, bed style; first class occupied half of the length of the bus and had a door for access and privacy). From the brochure on-board I learned that the bus had a GPS tracking system so that the company could send help shall the bus stop for any unscheduled reason in rural areas. Some buses even have Wi-Fi. Soon after leaving the hostess passed lunch; I wasn’t ready to eat again and I just nibbled a bit to see what it was like, not the best food I had, even less appetizing than airline food.
Ica is located some 300Km south of Lima and before arriving we passed by Pisco, the town that was subject to a major earthquake nearly three months before our trip and left over 500 dead. There was a lot of destruction, but that didn’t seem to have touched the good spirit of these people. I admired their resiliency.

The Oasis-Town of Huacachina

Once at the bus station in Ica we hopped on a taxi for Huacachina, 5km away. By then it was dark and we couldn’t see much of the scenery other than realize that our surrounding were now sand and more sand. Huacachina is an oasis in a desert of giant dunes, around the lake there are hotels and restaurants. Trusting our ever-faithful Lonely Planet guide we asked the driver to take us to a hostel called Salvatierra. The cab ride was $2 and the welcoming in the hostel was once again a very warm one. A young boy gave us the tour and told us about a dune buggy / sandboarding trip that was taking place the next morning. We asked for an obtained a private room with bathroom and shower (open sky ceiling over the first part of the bathroom) which coasted us $6 each plus $2 for the (large) continental breakfast. In the hostel we met many young people coming from all over the world to offer their help in clearing the city from rubble left by the earthquake and whatever else they could do as volunteers. We took a short walk around the oasis and ended up stopping by the patio of a restaurant, where we met a group of young people from several countries who were here to spend two days; many of them had just met or met randomly at some point of their journey. We sat with these fellows and joined them for dinner and, once again, ate too much for very little.

Peru Days 1 & 2 – Arrival and Lima

My plane landed perfectly on time at the airport in Lima. Luckily mine was the first plane to arrive at the gate that night as most international flights arrive late night and it’s suddenly chaos at customs and luggage retrieval just after a few flights have landed. It took me about 20 minutes to pass customs and retrieve my heavy duty backpack. Once out of the gates I noticed, in the mass of taxi drivers holding a sign, a man holding a tablet with my name on it. I walked to him and we greeted each other in Spanish. I asked him if he spoke English and after getting a negative answer I thought “Here we go, time to brush up my Spanish.” After nearly two hours of waiting for my friend Lindsey (and discussing all sort of things with the driver, including politics, in what was my first real conversation in Spanish) I was starting to worry that she had not made the flight as she was flying stand-by, but her smiley face made it through the gates and she explained that her plane, regardless of being on time, landed after all the others and therefore it took a long time to pass customs and the luggage carousel. The three of us headed to the taxi with destination our hostel in Miraflores, a nice area of Lima by the sea. Lindsey and I had met nearly randomly just a few weeks before and we still didn’t know if we were a good travel match. I had told a friend that I was going to Peru and her words to me after “Nice to meet you” were “Can I come?” I said “Sure” thinking that she might be joking until I received a text message a week later saying “This is Lindsey, I was serious about Peru” and now she was sitting next to me, in a cab in South America.
We were greeted by the very nice hostel owners and after checking in our quaint but clean room we tried to fall asleep, by now it was nearly 2am. Sleep didn’t happen until 4am but we were already up at 8 to start our discovery of Peru’s capital.

We decided to have a mellow day and after a quick breakfast walked around the shoreline of Miraflores, stopping at parks to take photos and checking out the neighborhood. Walking took us to a shopping center on the edge of a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean and we sat at a restaurant where we could taste some local cuisine. We found our plates to be very flavorful, I especially liked the “anticuchos de corazon,” pieces of beef heart roasted in a skewer, which reminded me of something similar from Sardinia. We sat at the shopping center for a while watching the paragliders fly by the cliffs and offering rides to tourists and then strolled some more around the streets. On my flight to Lima I was sitting next to a man from the city who gave me many recommendations about places to see, what and where to eat and even the address of a car rental company. We visited the car rental and asked to speak to the lady whom I was referred to, who turned out to be the owner. She welcomed us into her office and after sitting down we explained that we were planning to visit Arequipa in the south of Peru and Cuzco. Since rental was around $500 with a drop-off in a city other than Lima we expected her to try and convince us to rent a car instead she was adamant on the fact that in Peru people drive dangerously and we should instead take a bus to our destinations. She even made phone calls to the most prominent bus companies to check schedule and prices and we finally decided that exploring the country by bus was the best way for us to see places and meet people.

Around sunset time we headed back to our hostel in Miraflores where Pedro, one of the owners made us a welcoming Pisco Sour, the local concoction made with Pisco, a peruvian liquor, egg white and lime. Delicious. The perfect way to end a perfect day.