We're going to need an adjustment period after leaving the Huancayo. We're leaving our comfort zone for the Gringo Trail of Peru, which includes all of the tourist hot spots. No longer will children tug their mom's arm and shout "Gringo" at us. Although, that was starting to happen less and less anyways. Jimmy supposes we're walking with more purpose. I think I'm just less wide-eyed. I'm hoping that we're also going to leave the rain behind. Apparently I chose the two rainy months of the year to spend in Huancayo and this year was particularily wet. Each morning my shoes are still damp from the day before, so I started wearing my hiking boots out to save my shoes for dancing - which I gotta say, I think I'm starting to catch on to moving my feets to the latin beats, thanks to the hard work I've put in at the clubs here.

Most locals tell me that Huancayo is not the ideal travel destination. They say Columbia is the place for beauty - as in culture, volcanoes, beaches and women. Every gringo I've met tells me that Bolivia is the most amazing place they've been. I'm keen to find out why. Nevertheless, there are still a fair few locals who believe in the beauty of the Mantaro Valley. I'm going to have to side with the few optimistic here in the same way that I side with the few who believe Deadmonton can be a fun place to live. Either way, I'm pretty stoked to actually get on a bus tonight and get moving.

written by  ryanmyers on March 14, 2009 from Huancayo, Peru
from the travel blog: Ryan's First Sabbatical
tagged Rockslide
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After dinner the boys and I went out wearing shamrock stickers from my sisters, got back from the bar around 6am and decided to do some sight seeing. Good idea too cause when we got to Ollantatambo around 8am there were barely any other tourists and the sun was shining from the perfect spot. Jimmy napped with a dog on a terrace while the rest of us explored the ruins of the Quechua's last stand (aka Incas, but the Inca was actually just the king - the culture, language and people is Quechua).

Obviously we rested between then and starting our treck to Machu Picchu. Some well needed rest! The trip started in the middle of a cloud at 4100m above sea level as a bike ride, declining 2300m down a mountain for 6 hours. After only 20 minutes of cold biking down hairpin turns we encountered a traffic jam and a change of plans. What caused this traffic jam? Another landslide of course.

Apparently the landslide took out a truck along with the road. By the time we arrived some people had been waiting 15 hours (I found out today that it took 4 days to clean up). Our guide, Johan, and his father, Lorenzo, wouldn't let a mere landslide stop us, so they investigated the best route around. Some other groups actually climbed the slide, but Lorenzo deemed that too dangerous. Some government workers were busy cutting a trail over the landslide through the high jungle, which was to be our route of choice. It's important to note that my dad is scared of heights, which has brought quite a bit of entertainment to the family in the past, but the danger factor of the landslide brought in an element that made me hold back all teasing. Everyone seemed to have a little bit of fear in their eyes, everyone except Lorenzo and Johan. Let me tell you, it was not an easy hike through the jungle - the ground was soft and slippery, the slope was steep and we were carrying all of our gear with us. In all honesty, I was proud of myself to reach the road on the other side. As for Tony, I was impressed. And kudos to mom, she finished up ahead with all the young folk. Apparently while we were crossing above the landslide someone fell from the landslide to their death. A few days later the path we went on gave way adding to the slide.

On the other side we were left without bikes or a bus, we had to walk the rest of the way down the valley to our hostel with dusk quickly approaching. My mom asked Johan how long the walk would be. He told her it's not worth knowing. He's only 17, but is wise beyond his years.

Eventually a gas truck with a flat bed on top picked us up. The tailgate appropriately read "PELIGROS - COMBUSTIBLE". Eventually there was close to 30 of us winding down the road to Santa Maria for the night. We ended up driving more than 2 hours after dark. Thank god we didn't walk that!

A warm dinner was welcomed in Santa Maria, as a shower would have been if it worked. No biggie though, I couldn't get much dirtier. After dinner us boys went behind the hostel and played soccer with some local kids, not really knowing how much energy the next day would require.

Day 2 is Lorenzo's favourate day and it's understandable why. We hiked along a river before climbing up into the jungle and eventually meeting up with one of the old Inca trails (of which there was 25,000km in the height of the Quechua empire - 4 different ones connect with Machu Picchu).

Tony likes to say he's not afraid of heights, rather precipices. Well, the Inka Jungle Trail had more than your average person's fair share of precipices in Day 2. I can honestly say that I have never seen my dad more scared in my life. Lorenzo quickly became dad's best friend, whom dad kept asking, "Lorenzo, are you okay?" At times we were walking on stairs that were less than a half a meter wide, with the rock face on one side and an 800m cliff on the other to the Rio Urubamba. Johan would often casually stand right on the edge to proudly educate us on Quechua culture. I say it's absolutely nuts that the Quechua messangers would sprint over these paths to deliver messages at a ridiculously fast pace!

My words don't justly describe the insanity and serenity of the scenery throughout this trek and neither will my pictures. Even our lunch stop was a jungle oasis with hammocks and our pre-dinner cool down was lounging in a hot pool filled naturally with fresh mountain water. The day finished with us in Santa Teresa, where we found out that Day 3 was much easier. Naturally us boys decided to go out again. The club was so hot it looked like I just stepped out of the shower.

Day 3 was essentially us walking along train tracks to Aguas Calientes (the tourist town at the base of Machu Picchu). I got there and slept.

We were woken up at 4am on Day 4 to walk up the mountain that is Machu Picchu (Apparently Machu Picchu is the Quechua name for the mountain and the name for the ruin city is very difficult for Ryan to say, let alone type. Archeologists believe the city was a university for the Quechua elite to study close to the heavens). That was possibly the hardest leg of the whole trip and was accomplished entirely in the dark. Well worth it, as we saved on the expensive bus ride up. That's a valuable $10 you know! I've never been this cheap in my life, but I need to stretch my doe.

When we got there the clouds blocked all views during our guided tour. After which, the clouds parted and we climbed Huaynapicchu (the classic mountain you see in almost every picture of Machu Picchu). This intense, slippery climb took about an hour and offered an incredible ariel view of the site. Mom n' pops passed on this one, so the boys and I had a cliff side lunch at the top of Huaynapicchu by ourselves, which included tuna and avacado sandwiches.

For the remainder of the day we walked around the city trying to see as many of the sites as possible. After a solid 12 hours of climbing up and down stairs we almost saw all of the 5 major sites (the city, Temple of the Moon, Huaynapicchu, Inca Bridge), but were stopped by a guard half way to the last one, the Sun Gate. Amazing nevertheless.

Dinner's here, gotta run!!

written by  ryanmyers on March 18, 2009 from Cusco, Peru
from the travel blog: Ryan's First Sabbatical
tagged MachuPicchu
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Anywho, with the Inka Jungle Trek proudly under our belts, Tony, Erna, Jamshade, Harry, Jimmy and I were excited to relax on Lake Titicaca's tranquil islands. Naturally there was an agrarian strike, so our 7 hr bus trip from Cuzco turned into 12. You see, I couldn't have planned these revenges if I tried. Honestly.

After a night in Puno, the Peruvian city on the steep shores of Lake Titicaca (3,812m), we woke up earlier than desired to find a boat. Well, actually only Harry went to the harbour to find a boat while the rest of us had breakfast. Thanks, Harry! I remember the rest of us having excuses, just not what they were. I'm sure they were legitimate. Either way, Harry found a boat captained by a local Quechua guy with family on Isla Amantani, which we decided to spend two nights on.

Our first stop was at one of the floating islands. Long ago the Uros people fled the land in favour of the lake as a means to escape the fighting with the Inca and Aymara peoples. "Screw house boats," they said, "we want mobile islands!" With a little ingenuity and a copias amounts of reeds, they left their houses on shore for their reed houses on their islands. Apparently it was a good idea cause they still live on 40 odd of these, with a few set up to make a buck off of tourists. Being islanders, it's obvious these folk eat fish. With Lake Titicaca being the largest lake in South America, I expected their trout and catfish to be small sharks. But nope, they're not even as big as a hotdog bun. Our best guess is that's due to the low levels of oxygen at this altitude.

Both Puno and the floating islands are found in a large green-water bay of algae. However, once you pass the enclosing peninsulas for the open waters the lake reveals its true colours, which happens to be a beautiful Mediterranean blue. Our boat slowly crept out of the bay revealing our Isla Amantani, our next destination. And I mean slowly. Jesus could have walked to the island and back with holes in his feet before we got there.

Kitchen View

Tony Enjoying the view at Pacha Mama

In addition to two nights on Isla Amantani, we also spent a morning on Isla Tequila, where you can tell marital status amongst much more just from the patterns and colours on their toques. Geographically, this island was probably more beatiful, but it just didn't match the serenity from Amantani - seemingly untouched. As El Capitán picked us up from a crystal blue water port, Harry and Jimmy took a dip in the lake. I'm not gonna lie, I was pretty tempted, but am not sad with my decision. Apparently it's much colder than it looks.

Back in Puno, we all had a final meal of brazed chicken and french fries before we slowly started to part ways. First to go was mom n' pops. They left just after dinner and mom cried. No worries though, I think she'll be okay. She's a strong one.

Second to go was Jimmy. He had to leave bright and early in the a.m., leaving us with one last night together as us boys, so we went out. There were riot police on the main stip - bad omen. The first club we went to was closed, as was the second. Some locals told us there was some sort of shut-down. I still don't know what it was, but whatever it was it caused almost every bar to close down for a week. Those locals took us to a pub smaller than my kitchen and packed with dudes. Not really my ideal locale.

We left before ordering and headed to the main plaza. Here we met some Americans and a girl from Kitscoty, AB, who were embarrassed that they were on a trip to discover themselves. Together we found a lounge where we exchanged stories of our travels. On our walk home the riot police were gone, leaving the streets with drunks smashing bottles. We were more than happy to find a jovial group, chillin with their instruments. Once they discovered Jimmy could play guitar, they had him play a few songs. We sang Sublime's What I Got with them and cheered along while they sang some Spanish tunes. After all was said and done they walked us back to our hostel.

written by  ryanmyers on March 30, 2009 from Puno, Peru
from the travel blog: Ryan's First Sabbatical
tagged LakeTiticaca, Puno and IslaAmantani
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In light of my decision, Harry also swapped his plans of Columbia for Iquitos, a Peruvian city on the Amazon that's only accessible by plane or boat.

The three of us had just a few short nights in Lima. The first included bargaining for a hotel room because all of the hostels in Mira Flores, the Whyte Ave area, were filled up. We negotiated her down from $150US to $35US for a two-bed room with a nice bathroom and access to a gorgeous balcony, where we held our after party following a wild night out. The down side is I had to sleep on the floor, which I didn't realise how frequent I'd be doing after that.

The following night was Harry's last and sadly uneventful. I was sick and thoroughly tired from many long bus rides over a short time, so I didn't have it in me for another night out.

written by  ryanmyers on April 1, 2009 from Lima, Peru
from the travel blog: Ryan's First Sabbatical
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Trujillo

Kati's friend, Magali bused it from Lima just for one night out. She's nuts. Nuff said. After that I said goodbye to Jams and then headed for Santa Cruz.

written by  ryanmyers on April 3, 2009 from Trujillo, Peru
from the travel blog: Ryan's First Sabbatical
tagged Ceviche and Trujillo
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Since then I've been staying with Ken in Santa Cruz, Bolivia. Lemme tell ya, it's more than hot in Santa Cruz. We've been steadily in the high 30's and broke 40 a few times. If I sleep past 8 the sun will shine on my mattress, making it impossible to sleep - not from the light, but from the sweat tickling me as it drips down. Plus, the parakeets have a screeching competition in the neighbour's tree every morning from 8-9am. I've found that to be the ideal time to eat breakfast. It works well for me because the sun is usually off my mattress by 9:30, so if I want more sleep the option is there. Yup, it's so hot that I had to shave and get a hair cut.

Anywho, Ken is a missionary from Saskatoon, who has a boys home that provides the opportunity for former street kids to attend university. Right now there's 9 boys (almost all 20 yrs old), Ken and I living at the house.

FRANZ educated me on the local politics. I understand that Cambas (lowland, eastern, jungle folk in Bolivia who are relaxed enough that they don't feel it neccesary to pronounce the 'S' at the end of their words) see Evo Morales as the antichrist, the second Hitler and Satan himself. They want more atonomy like what Canadian provinces have. The mountain dwelling highlander folk (mostly Quechua, but the name of them escapes me) see Evo as their saviour and the lone good guy amongst all bad.
Franz also beat me in a swimming contest, making me his cachiman. Since then I have been laying down the smack talk on my fusbol skills. After our game he'll be walking away with his tail between his legs, but we still haven't found a place to play. I spotted a bunch of tables in a plaza close to Ken's house the other week when I was walking around lost, but for some odd reason they were gone the next day.

SANDRO is incredibly short and eats his weight every meal, yet doesn't gain any weight. It baffles me. Not only is the the shortest, but he's also the oldest at 23. When I first met him I thought he was quiet and serious, but his high pitched laugh quickly proved me wrong. Throughout the day I'll usually hear Sandro constantly mumbling "mi cachiman", which more or less means "my servent". In my first day at the home that became a running joke that hasn't gone. These boys have been teaching me a bunch of street slang and the Santa Cruz accent, which is the last thing my broken Spanish needs.

DAVID and RONELO each have baby girls that they're obviously proud of - they've showed me their pictures. Ronelo emphasized that his girl got her good looks from him. He also likes to remind me that he's the best looking guy in the house. David, on the other hand, first told me his name was Brappy, so I could never figure out who David was. Eventually it was clear that David tried to tell me his name was Brad Pitt. heh heh, didn't work so well.

ANDRES was sick and quiet for the first week I met him. Then one day he instantly felt better and started teasing everyone constantly. Funny guy, but I don't know where he get's his energy from.
Last week a praying mantis landed on my leg. I only know those freaky bugs from nature shows when they fight each other to the death, so, naturally, I freaked out in a very manly fasion. You've gotta see them, they have huge pinchers!! Andres caught the praying mantis and chased me around the kitchen table reassuring me they are harmless. ...turns out he's right. I held it in my hand and it just relaxed. Regardless, I was happier with it outside.

YIMY (pronounced Jimmy) is studying to be an electrician. He also used to play soccer for a just-below-pro team here in Santa Cruz. He's a quiet guy, polite and confident. Actually, all the guys are very confident and most are polite too.

Like Sandro, JOSE MIGUEL comes across as serious, but in this case he actually is. A nice guy though who's been kind enough to come with me into town a few times to use the internet.

JESUS has been rather quiet and I haven't chatted with much. He has a son who is scared of white people.

I'm sleeping on the floor in RUDDY's room. Everyone else has 2 or 3 in a room, but Ruddy. I dunno if that has to do with good behaviour or what, but it works for me. He seems to have a healthy balance in his life. It's not rare to catch him singing or whistling while doing chores - sometimes trying to sing louder than the other boys. Plus, he's incredibly patient, especially with my Spanish and teaching how to play the sampoña (the typical reed instrument you'll hear in Bolivian or Peruvian folk music). Lately he's played a song or two in bed before turning the lights off. I honestly think it helps me sleep better.
Ruddy is studying communications to possibly be a radio personality or something in the radio/music industry.

Those are the boys. From what Ken tells me, the typical story of street kids in Santa Cruz is something like this: Their parents split with the mom taking the kids. She finds a new man who then abuses the kids, so they escape the bad scene at home for another bad scene on the streets. Many turn to drugs and alcohol to cope, which is funded usually by stealing. Some kids voluntarily show up at orphanages for a better way of life. For Ken's boys, this is mostly the story they have and some are still struggling to keep their past behind them.

With that said, these guys are now studying at university with all of their expenses paid for. They live in a clean home (and what a beautiful home!) which they help to maintain. But most importantly, they're quality people. It's been a privilege staying with them.

written by  ryanmyers on April 6, 2009 from Cochabamba, Bolivia
from the travel blog: Ryan's First Sabbatical
tagged SantaCruz and Ken
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I would have been extremely surprised to see a shiny Tornado foosball table there, but that didn't stop my heart from slumping when I saw what I expected. The vintage tables had been repaired so many times, that few had their original parts. The tables rattled off sounds similar to kicking tin cans and spinning rolling pins. Upon closer inspection I noticed the players were all metal for increased lifespan and decreased in-game control.

After all the smack talk I dished out, it was important that I beat Franz. Even Ken asked me to whoop his boys for him - they can be cocky at times too. If I was going to beat Franz, it had to be on his home turf.

The group was just Andres, Sandro, Franz and I. The game was winner plays on. Franz beat me 4-1 in the first game, then beat Andres and lost to Sandro's crazy style. Then I wooped Sandro and Andres only to lose to Franz 3-2. Franz won the next two games and then beat me a final game 3-2. I still think I'm awesome, but yeah, I'm Franz's cachiman forever.

-o-o-o-o-o-
--o--o--o--
---o----o---
------o------

Later in Cochabamba I played Flor and came real close to losing a best of 5 series. It came down to the last ball of the last game, but this time I saved my pride. Plus, I let her use spins. Woot woot!!

written by  ryanmyers on April 28, 2009 from Cochabamba, Bolivia
from the travel blog: Ryan's First Sabbatical
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On Saturday night Flor, her friend Freddie and I went to the Feria - almost exactly like the exhibitions. The commercial exhibits were, let's say weird. For example, the shampoo exhibit had you walk inside a mirrored corridor that got smaller and smaller. Then you left. Like I said, weird. I was thankful that everyone else looked baffled too. Almost all of the exhibits, like the tile or cooking oil exhibit, had beautiful girls in princess dresses sitting in chairs smiling. Anywho, that was the commercial area - the rest of the Feria was more or less normal with beer tents, artisans and rusting rides. Now, I'm not gonna lie here because it's relavent to what follows. I had maybe the equivalent of 4 drinks, danced to some Cumbia and went home.

I've been in Cochabamba for a week now, but haven't spend as much time outside of my flat as desired cause I had to fight a fever - and not the Saturday Night Fever variety. I can handle that. Really. The morning after the Feria I thought I had an unjustified hangover, so it wasn't a fair fight from the start. What else would you think when you vomit in the morning after some drinks? So I slept that day away, but felt alright by 'bed time'. I won that round.

I felt so good I didn't think there was round two. In fact, I was aces in the morning and downed a delicious banana milk smoothie with a fruit salad. That night my fever came back with avengence. I was so hot that you could boil water on me - which is good cause you can't drink the tap water here. That lasted all night, but by morning and without warning it submitted defeat. Psh, they always do. I've been feeling great for a few days now - stool and all.

written by  ryanmyers on May 5, 2009 from Cochabamba, Bolivia
from the travel blog: Ryan's First Sabbatical
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............

APRIL 8, 2009 to ERNA from SANTA CRUZ
I still haven't shaved since Huancayo or cut my hair since Canada [I buckled after a week of Santa Cruz weather, but got it back in Cochabamba!]. I gotta say, this is quite the treat!! I've dreamed about being this scruffy before, but never got to live it until now. And the humidity is definately helping my hair stay curly at a longer length. I don't think I could keep it this long at home.

Oh, and the weather here is much hotter than Lima. Bolivia is land locked, yet it is mucky and hot here cause it's only 400m above sealevel and in the jungle. And, I'm FINALLY reaping the benefits of living in the Andes for 3 months. When playing soccer with the guys [Ken's guys] last night, I could run as long and hard as them. Funny cause I'm not exactly in shape and some of these guys used to play for quality teams. Now I just need some coordination [any at all] with my feet and I'm good to go.

APRIL 8, 2009 to TARA from SANTA CRUZ
Sometimes it's frustrating [learning Spanish] because I learn the same word about 50 times (no exaggeration!). Often I recognize the words, but don't remember their definitions. Other times I understand the words, but not the sentences. Funny story, I was having dinner with a Kati in Lima when her friend joined us. Her friend was speaking talking about me in front of me, but I couldn't decifer exactly what she was saying. She finished by saying "No entiende mierda" (literally "he doesn't understand shit"), which was the only sentence I knew. That was about all I understood, so I said, "No, entiendo mierda". She was a little embarrassed.

APRIL 8, 2009 to TARA from SANTA CRUZ
I'm hanging out with 9 ex-street kids who had/have some problems - almost all are around 20 yrs old, so I hope I can be a good influence. Plus, Ken said he has 9 guys staying with him, so if I sleep on the floor (which I am), then what is one more?

I've only been in Bolivia for a few days, so it's hard to say exactly what the differences are. Plus, Santa Cruz people may be different from other Bolivians [They are!]. One difference is that people in Santa Cruz say "Bueno dia" and "Gracia", not "Buenos dias" and "Gracias" [Woowee, them folk are hard to understand!! Folk in Cochabamba are much easier to understand.]. I suppose they lost their S's a long time ago. And the cars honk less here [On second though, I think I've just gotten used to it]. However, I suspect that further west (closer to Peru and back in the mountains), the culture will be very similar to Peru.

APRIL 11, 2009 to TONY from SANTA CRUZ
I've told a lot of people down here how proud I am for you [for the Inka Jungle Trek]. Today we were at a pool with a giant mariposium (a ridiculously large butterfly and bird enclosure) with a tall look-out tower. One girl tried to climb it but her fear of heights had her drop on all fours and tremble. It really helped solidify how terrifying heights can be for some people. It also reinforced how difficult the trip must have been for you. Good on ya, pops!

As for down here, the other day I went to a slum home, which was the size of your kitchen. I gotta say, it was humbling. We made empanadas with them, which in hindsight, I think was more food than they had in their house. I played some soccer with the guys in the family and lifted weights with the dad! haha, obviously he was stronger! He also shared his story of how he got off the streets and how god has helped him out. He spent over 8 yrs on the streets before finding his own land and building his own house. Tough life. [my facebook pic is from here]

Probably the best part so far has been hanging out with the ex-street kids here. We call each other cachiman, which is their own slang and roughly means slave or servent. I suspect it's a little more rude, but who knows. Either way, they've been incredibly welcoming and patiently chat with me. The other day I had a long conversation about Evo Morales with one of them, which was a part of my choice to come here - to see how people view him.

Anywho, take care of your body, too pops! I've definately been getting my fair share of exercise. You wouldn't believe how much physical labour I've done down here. I've yielded machetti's several times lately. [Don't worry, I wasn't partaking in genocide, but helping out a grade 11 mission group from Saskatoon]

APRIL 13, 2009 to MEGHAN from SANTA CRUZ
I went to church for your birthday, which was awesome because there was lotsa singing and lotsa air conditioning. Santa Cruz is blistering hot! After that, the chaperones from the gr 11 class from Saskatoon had an Easter egg hunt for all of us, the boys and I included. The guys down here have all been extremely good to me - teaching me street slang and messing up my already not-so-good Spanish.

APRIL 29, 2009 to ERNA from SANTA CRUZ
Today was my last day in Santa Cruz. I leave at 6am tomorrow for Cochabamba. And yeah, I saw Che's moselium, execution site, last battle site and the location where his body was shown to the press. To be honest, the conversations I had on the tour were as good as the tour itself. I went with an Irishman and an Israeli and our guide was from Germany. The best conversation we had was in the hostel with the hostel lady who is from Cochabamba. [Woowee, was she passionate about her politics! Good to see.]

MAY 14, 2009 to TARA from COCHABAMBA
Funny enough, there's a bug here in Bolivia around Santa Cruz that'll bite you and half of your face will be paralyzed for a week or so. After that you're fine. Average Bolivian's don't seem to know this though, only doctors [Ken spoke with his doctor about this one]. So there's a wive's tale that if you leave the house just after showering in the evening you'll catch a cold cause of the temperature change. You gotta realize how rediculous that is - Santa Cruz is tropicly hot as hell. Their nights are at coldest 15 degrees and in freak insidences get down to 5, so if that was the case we'd all be permanently paralyzed in Canada!

MAY 20, 2009 to TARA from COCHABAMBA
And yup, things are cool down here. Tonight I'm gonna go to a show on how dada art influenced punk rock. [I understood the punk part cause I was famiar about it, but the dadism portion was a little tougher. I think he was arguing that dadism broke all rules of art, granting freedom to artists. Thus opening the doors for the possibility of punk. Personally, I think that's a far stretch and rather dadism is connected much closer to psychadelic rock (The Beatle's "Number 9") or experimental rock (The Velvet Underground's "Heroin") than punk. I think if there is a connection between visual art and punk it's more likely to be found in an art style like deconstructivism or whatever style is simple, yet strong.]

MAY 24, 2009 to MEGHAN from COCHABAMBA
I went to a pet market today. Outside the soccer stadium is a small market where you can buy fish, iguanas, cats, dogs and crabs. I'm not sure why you'd wanna buy crabs. You can get that free in most public washrooms. Anywho, there were tons of puppies that you'd wanna hug and kiss for hours. My favourate were the wrinkle dogs, hehe, they look so funny! [Notably I beat Flor at foosball with only my left hand - not that I'm bragging.]

After that Flor and I went to an artisan market. Honestly, the coolest stuff they had were plants. I suppose I'm not keen on buying trinkets. Just not my thing. But the plants are freaking cool. Most plants here are dirt cheap and the dirt is even cheaper!! Plus, tons of plants that we can only grow during the summer and inside can be grown outside all year round here. For instance, there are many poinsetta trees here.

Adam once told me that his dream home would be a penthouse and on the patio he'd have tons of pine trees with a fire pit in the middle. That way he could go camping on a highrise downtown. Cool idea, hey? Well, if I lived here I'd definately do that, except I'd have orange, mango, apple and avocado trees.

written by  ryanmyers on May 25, 2009 from Cochabamba, Bolivia
from the travel blog: Ryan's First Sabbatical
tagged SantaCruz, Pets, Ken and ElChe
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I went to the Cancha (a second hand market in the rough parts of Cochabamba) yesterday with Amy, a cool Missionary girl I met here through Ken. She's actually a former punk rock band manager, but now has her own Mission that reaches out to kids on the street. She describes her job as respondnig to random chaos everyday. Rewarding, but challenging.

Oh man, is there a lot of crap from back home. Most of it is from the US, but there's tons from Canada, too. Apparently, when in Tanzania, Adam saw t-shirts from Edmonton a few of the guys. Even crazier is how many shirts are brand new. Most are ugly participaction shirts and a few have their Target tag still on.

Anywho, the market was crowded with people, garbage and literally towering piles of clothes - neatly separted into male/female and adult/kids. Some venders has small shops displaying their product on hangers, but when a shirt was on a hanger you'd know the price was inflated - around 20 Bs. (CAN$3.50). The real bargains are found in the 5 Bs. bins (CAN$0.90).

After digging - literally digging - around for a few hours I walked away with a knife, 4 Reeces Peanut Butter Cups and a thin, soft, blue t-shirt from one of the 5 Bs. bins - woot woot! I gotta remember to wash it before wearing! And the Reeces, you gotta understand how rare a find that one is. Thanks Amy!!

Aside of the clothes, it's really like garage sale shopping back home. The exact same plates, pots, X-mas decorations - even kids books in English. Oddly, it's all priced equal to the brand new stuff here. I think that's cause the new stuff is poorer quality, less durable. God bless plastic. :P With that considered, if I were to live here my flat would be decked out with sweet vintage swag.

written by  ryanmyers on May 28, 2009 from Cochabamba, Bolivia
from the travel blog: Ryan's First Sabbatical
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