May 2010

Dan and I have had some trouble getting our schedules to sync up, which unfortunately means our time together is very limited. It doesn't help that I work 60 plus hours a week and take a day off about once per month. If we were to have a day off together it would probably be spent outside. Dan would opt for hiking. I would opt for walking. Last Friday we had the morning off together, although we didn't have enough time to hit the mountains, we did manage to find this pathway near the University of Washington which led us to a swampy, marshland.

This should have been our first "sign"

Or maybe the kids tethered together being led off the trail should have made us think twice.

Whatever the warnings, we didn't follow them.

We had to find clever ways around the flooded trails. This was a sink or swim situation.

Perhaps this wasn't a good day for white shoes.

We got to this little viewing platform where we took in the sights.

Like pretty flowers.

And tree canopied paths.

My attention wasn't kept for long. I was stranded in a muddy marshland and had to have a little fun.

I can't wait for summer. Bring on the sunshine and dry trails.

For more Photo Friday fun, visit Delicious Baby!

I’m not a sports fanatic. In fact, I know very little about professional sports. My dislike of sports is not a recent revelation, and is most likely deep rooted in my loathing of competition. I’ll go out of my way to avoid a little “friendly” competition – especially if it involves athletic equipment (i.e. Frisbee, basketball, monopoly game board). I guess it all comes down to losing. I don’t like losing.

Growing up I despised physical education to the point where I would feign sickness to get out of class. When my parents forced me to participate on a soccer team in second grade I would have rather shoved needles under my fingernails. Oh, they tried everything to get me excited. Trips to the toy store: Bribery. Take away allowance: Threats. Trips to the candy store: Potential chocolate induced coma in which I would happily oblige to anything (I think that one might have worked). When I started to actually participate, I never had a clue what I was doing. As you might have expected this meant I was the kid who scored goals for the opposing team. By the time the season was over my parents’ hair had turned grey (or fallen out) and from then on they honored my wishes to remain absent from all athletic activities. Thank God.

So this past weekend when my friend Natalie invited me to a Seattle Sounders soccer game, I immediately had flashbacks to second grade. Luckily, my twenty five year old self is somewhat braver than my seven year old self, and so I agreed to go.

For those in the know the Seattle Sounders fans are a force to be reckoned with, if not just plain crazy. I wished I would have had a video camera to catch them in action (because to be honest they were more entertaining than the game itself). From their vibrant face paint, neon wigs, crazy masks, and beer breath, they were easy to spot.

We simply donned our Sounders scarves, which seemed to be the going fashion statement throughout the stadium, and that was enough to fit in. Natalie is diehard soccer fan and plays several games a week. She helped me to better understand the game by pointing out the different positions and techniques. Although truth be told, I was more interested in spotting this hottie on the field. Swoon Freddie Ljungberg. Don’t worry, my heart still belongs to Dan.

In the end, my eyes seemed to linger more in the skies than on the field. Qwest Stadium sits directly below the flight path for planes landing at SeaTac Airport. While Natalie was yelling at the players, I was yelling, “Look Natalie! A British Airways Boeing 747-400!!!” or “Wow, look at that Jet Blue Airbus 320, you can almost smell the Terra Blue chips from here!” Obviously, no matter where I am or what I am doing, my mind seems to wander to the exotic life of travel. Maybe my parents should have known better. Had they promised me a trip to Disneyland, I might very well have agreed to another season of soccer playing. Offer me a free trip anywhere and I’ll do just about anything in return.

We had two options for getting to Lima. One was a very inexpensive luxury bus ride from Arequipa, we’re talking first class seats that fold out into a bed, meals, movies, and more all for about $50 each. The kicker: This would require that we spend 18 hours on said bus. Our second option was to splurge on a $250 flight and get to Lima in an hour. There is one thing I never sacrifice when travelling and that is time. I don’t care if an airline offered me a $500 flight voucher for bumping me to a next day flight. I would not accept it. When I am getting away to a destination that I have spent months preparing and saving for, there is no amount of money that will keep me from utilizing every moment of my vacation time. Time is precious, especially when travelling. Now returning home is a whole different story. I will gladly be bumped from a flight if it means I get a bonus vacation day, no questions asked.

So in the end we took the splurge worthy route. Time to us is everything. Granted this meant reserving an extra night at our swanky Miraflores hotel and in the end the last two nights of our Peru trip cost more than the first 11, but not matter, we made it work. I will not skirt the obvious and will simply say, Peru is very affordable. You should go there, like, now, before they realize it.

Lima is a sprawling metropolitan city of eight million people. We only had two nights, so we limited our exploration to the Miraflores area. While touring the area we felt very safe and couldn’t help but indulge in the luxuries we are accustomed to back home (i.e. Starbucks). Miraflores is also known for its bustling food scene and each block is lined with upscale eateries and chic bars. High rise hotels line the coast, and each one is more decadent than the last.

Miraflores is not actually at sea level, but sits high above the water on towering cliffs that seem to crumble into the ocean. Paved pathways appear to teeter on the cliffs and bustle with activity day and night. Getting to the beach requires navigating a series of switchback trails and roads built into the sandy cliffs.

Surfing is quite the popular pastime and we couldn’t walk but five feet down the beach without being offered lessons. Those not in the water gathered with picnic dinners to watch the sunset, and children ran wildly about the shoreline throwing rocks into the water.

We stopped on a boardwalk and watched as the sun sunk below the horizon. It was our last night in Peru, and although we were sad to be saying goodbye to a country with so many diverse experiences, we were also looking forward to returning to our lives back home.

While travel not only engages us to learn about new cultures, religions, and people, we also learn to be thankful for the things we take for granted back home. Things like clean water, abundant food, and warm showers. Our experiences in Peru helped us to realize these things. We returned home with a renewed sense of purpose and a gratitude for the basic necessities in life. This to me is the result of successful travel.

I wasn't going to leave Peru until I spotted the elusive Peruvian Hairless Dog. Ever since the Obama's were offered this peculiar breed, I just had to see one for myself. Well, I did see one. Two actually. Did I get a picture? No. But I did capture these fellows. Peruvian Hairless Dog, eat your heart out.

To say Peru has an abundance of canines is an understatement. In fact, we encounted pooches in every place we visited, including the floating islands of Lake Titicaca.

The cats of Puerto Rico have nothing on Peru's dogs.

For more photo friday fun, visit Delicious Baby!

As our taxi sped through the narrow cobbled streets of Arequipa, I immediately felt a surge of excitement as I witnessed a new and exotic side of Peru. The dozens of bustling cafes and nightclubs which lined the historic avenues spilled out into the streets. It was a warm Saturday evening, club-goers dressed to the nines, strong hints of cologne and perfume lingered in the air, and perspiring drinks adorned like jewelry. Throw in a beach and we could have been cruising the Miami strip.

Arequipa was unlike any other city we visited in Peru. With a population just shy of a million, Arequipa is Peru’s second largest city and serves as a commercial and industrial hub in Andean Highlands. While all of Peru has been rocked with dozens of devastating earthquakes, Arequipa is also plagued with volcanic eruptions every now and then. Needless to say, Arequipa has risen from the ashes and become a pulsating, metropolitan center.

Our primary focus in Arequipa was food. After living off saltines for five days Dan and I were ready to tantalize our taste buds and bulge our bellies. In Peru, the dollar goes a long way. This meant we spent nearly every meal dining on five star foods for mere dollars and cents. We’re talking four course, premier chef, and white table cloth service for under $25 for two people. I was in heaven. Of course my eyes are always bigger than my stomach, and having just recovered my stomach could only handle several bites before throwing in the towel. It didn’t matter, what we ate in Arequipa was delicious, filling, and divine.

Now I have failed to bring up a very sad fact about Peru, but since we’re on the subject, I suppose it’s time. Peruvians eat guinea pigs.

Yes, those furry little creatures kept as childhood pets. If you’re anything like me, you probably had one growing up. Although please tell me I’m not the only one who named my male guinea pig Bozo and then discovered one morning that Bozo had three babies and was really a girl. I can’t be the only one. Sad but true, guinea pig is sort of a specialty in Peru. While wandering about in Arequipa we came across a home with a cute little guinea pig hutch out front. There were probably a dozen or so furry critters frolicking about in their hay. I was so delighted at my find until I realized they were probably not pets.

But let’s change the subject, no reason to dwell.

Arequipa was so stunning that I feel even pictures do not do it justice. The highlight was easily the Santa Catalina Monastery where we spent a good portion of a day wandering through the quaint alleyways and terraces.

The Monastery has an interesting story. It was founded in 1580 and only women from very wealthy, high class Spanish families were permitted to serve. While I’m sure they had the best intentions, the nuns continued to live their lavish lifestyles within the convent walls. It wasn’t until 1871 when the Pope himself sent Sister Josefa Cadena to whip the place into shape. Today the 20 or so nuns are on much better behavior and live within a small section of the sprawling convent.

Towering over Arequipa, which already sits at an elevation of 7,800 feet, is the cone shaped volcanic El Misti at nearly 20,000 feet and her sidekicks Chachani and Pichu-Pichu. They are quite the sight and a force to be reckoned with. Nearly all of Arequipa has been rebuilt using Sillar, a volcanic rock from the eruptions which litter Arequipa’s history.

We didn’t want to leave Arequipa. Between the cobbled streets, plentiful gourmet food, and easy pace of life, it was the type of place that I like to call home. I could have easily settled into their lifestyle and never returned. However, looming El Misti and the frequent occurrence of earth trembles left me feeling a little anxious. Then again, Seattle is awfully similar, we’re not unused to earthquakes and we sit directly underfoot of Mt. Rainier. Maybe that’s what made Arequipa home to me. Mother Nature makes life unexpected and interesting, and perhaps that’s why Arequipa is home to so many.