Alpacas, Guinea Pigs & Hairless Dogs

Well, the flight from Miami to Lima was relatively uneventful except for three stories I can think of off the top of my head.

1. The Ticket to Nowhere
We had heard from other travelers, as well as read online, that to gain entrance into Peru you must have proof of onward travel or a return ticket. Not wanting to get kicked off a second airplane, we decided to buy the cheapest refundable ticket we could find online. All went well at the Miami airport, no one even asked about a return ticket. Then we had a huge layover in Mexico City. And again, all went well getting on our flight to Lima... no one even asked about a return ticket. Then when we arrived in Lima and went through customs and immigration, and again, no one asked about a return ticket. So, in essence, this story is about the fact that there is no story to tell. We bought $1500 worth of flights that we didn't need to. These tickets better be refundable.

2. The Smell of Duty Free
During our layover in Mexico City, we had a lot of time to kill. As it was pretty late at night, there was only one store open in our terminal, the duty free. With nothing else to entertain ourselves, we proceeded to smell every mens and womens fragrance in the store and not buy a single one. Let me tell you, there are a lot of awful fragrances bottled and sold in this world. I think I overdosed. Following the overnight flight to Lima, I woke up with a stuffy nose and a cold.

3. The Magic Button
When we arrived in Mexico City, we waited in an enormous line for immigration and customs. Honestly, there was only one dude checking passports and documents for three flights worth of passengers. Luckily, Marisa looked like a local so we cruised through with no problems. Well, almost... Just before the glass doors that lead to freedom, a woman in uniform stops me and starts jibber jabbering in Spanish and pointing to a big red button. She says, "Push it." I say, "No, I don't wanna push it." She says, "Push it." I said, "No. Why, what does it do?" Then she says quite forcefully, "You have to push it!" So I did. I pushed it. And a bright green light flashed before me and I was allowed to walk out the glass doors to the freedom beyond them. Then it was Marisa's turn. She too had to push the magic red button. Unfortunately, the magic button gods didn't smile upon her as they did me. For when she pushed the button, a bright red light flashed before her. And she had to get patted down and searched. Haha! I win. It turns out they were looking for chicken and beef, which you can't bring into the country. Good thing they didn't stop me...of course I had a chicken sandwich in my hand. Luckily, Marisa had a tuna sandwich and we sailed through.

Then, when we arrived in Lima, they possessed magic button technology as well! A veteran button pusher by this point, I was pretty stoked. So I pushed the button with style... and of course... blink... a green light to freedom. No pat down. No strip search. But this time, when I turned around to see if Marisa's inner drug smuggler would be revealed by the magic button, I was astonished to see her walking to freedom right behind me! Apparently, in Peru, if your boyfriend pushes the magic button, and it approves, you are granted freedom by association. I thought that was very nice.

We have spent the past 5 days touring the various districts of Lima and exploring the local ruins of indigenous cultures obliterated by the Spanish conquistadors. Each day so far, one cool thing has happened... Ok, that's a lie. But I'm only telling you one story from each day, because typing feels quite tedious right now.

Day #1: Red Eyes and Stuffy Noses

We arrived in Lima at the crack of dawn, sleepy and sniffling. Specifically, I was sniffling. But neither of us could keep our eyes open. We checked into our hostel in the Miraflores district of Lima and then crashed until about noon. At which time, we gathered every ounce of motivation within our tired bodies and took a brief walking tour of the neighborhood. We found a nice little coffee shop overlooking the central park in Miraflores and just chatted and soaked up the scenery for most of the afternoon. The first day was more like a reconnaissance mission than anything else. We noted that the weather was cold and the alpaca clothing was cheap. We found a shopping mall created within the cliffs overlooking the ocean. We found the closest grocery store to our hostal, bought all the necessary ingredients for chicken vegetable soup, and spent the rest of the evening nose deep in a good book.


Day #2: Alpacas, Guinea Pigs & Hairless Dogs

Refreshed after almost 12 hours of sleep, we set off on foot for a set of local ruins called Huaca Pucllana (pronounced "hoo-aka-pookie-on-uh") located right here in Miraflores. From afar it looked like a dirt hill. Up close, you could see that the local tribes created a pyramid of sorts from mud bricks. Yet, the mud bricks were not fired and the last thousand years reduced the majority of the pyramid to a mound of dirt once again. Also, it didn't help that as the neighborhood of Miraflores expanded, people enjoyed riding their motorcycles and playing soccer in the ruins. All in all, the ruins were pretty cool. Even cooler was all the random stuff we found around the ruins. We saw our first alpacas. We saw the Guinea Pigs they farm and eat. We saw our first Peruvian hairless dogs (which if you pet them are supposed to have healing qualities... and when you pet them it feels like your petting a dinosaur dog). Marisa saw her first aloe plant. And as an added bonus, we saw our first coca plant... next we'll have to try the coca tea. Oh yeah, we found the mecca of all alpaca clothing sales at the local indian markets. We stocked up. I got a sweet poncho and a beanie that says Peru on it. I'll probably get my ass kicked if I wear my new outfit around town tho... its just that good.



Day #3: Seeing without Seeing, Doing without Doing (the haircut)

On the third day of Lima, my true love gave to me... a haircut.
But we'll get back to that one in a minute. We woke up in the morning and experienced our first of many Peruvian bus rides to get to central Lima for our self guided walking tour. Well, actually, we did a tour without doing a tour. It was more of a non-tour really. See, our friends Chaney and Katy are coming to visit us (they arrive in about 3 hours!!!) and we didn't want to tour all the churches and catacombs and museums and stuff only to have to repeat the same tour a few days later. That would be boring. So we did a mock tour. We figured out the bus system and saw the outsides of all the churches and catacombs and museums and stuff so that we knew where they were and then the insides would be exciting and new for all of us at the same time. Also, this gives Marisa time to create a cheat sheet with all the pertinent info for each of the sites we visit. No need to hire a tour guide... we have Marisa!
Ok, back to the haircut. After dinner, and a pitcher of sangria, I let Marisa style my lengthy locks. She seemed confident enough at the time...


Day #4: Pisco Sours and the Police

Well, we both had a couple really good laughs this morning! Then I went to the barber and shaved my head... It turns out Marisa was hoping for divine intervention while cutting my hair. No such luck. Fortunately I bought my alpaca beanie a couple days before and put it to good use until I came across a hair cuttery. I don't know where the day went, but next thing I knew I hopped out of a taxi with no hair and a police man asking me if I needed help. I still don't know exactly why he raced over on his motorcycle and asked us if we needed help. But he did. And we didn't need help. We needed dinner. So we thanked the police officer for coming to our rescue and asked him where we could find dinner. We soon found dinner. And we ordered our first Pisco Sour at a restaurant overlooking the ocean.


Day #5: The Real Peru...

Today we tackled our most adventurous bus route yet and traveled to the ruins of Pachacamac on the outskirts of Lima. Again, from afar, they looked like a dirt hill. Up close much more impressive. But again, centuries of disuse reduced once great temples to mounds of earth. We realized that if we think these ruins are cool, Maccu Picchu is gunna knock our socks off... Which reminds me, I need to buy more socks.




So, there you have it!
We're in Peru and loving every minute of it.
And it gets better!
Chaney and Katy's flight arrives in about 3 hours and they don't know it yet but we're going to meet them at the airport with a smile and a hug and about 3 liters of Pisco Sour!

Rock on!
Mikey&Marisa

Montanas, Playa, Cuidad... Miami?

Chapter One: The Mountains

"The sun was high overhead, but we could not see it, could not feel its warmth. We were tired, hungry, unable to breathe, and the temperature dropped over 20 degrees in as many seconds. Our hands were swollen, our feet muddied and abused. We had already lost a man that morning..."

Dramatic, yes, but true nonetheless.
We'll back up a day so as to get you all caught up...

From Bocas del Toro, we took a bus to Boquete, a small town nestled in the mountains with a plethora of wildlife, nature trails, coffee plantations, and gated communities. Yes, gated communities... Boquete has been recognized as one of AARP's top 4 retirement destinations since 2005. Due to a minor miscommunication and a cell phone lost under the drivers seat of a car, we arrived in Boquete and were unable to contact the people we intended to stay with. Luckily, travelers are a social bunch and we had made a couple friends on the bus ride from Bocas del Toro with good hostel recommendations.

On our first night in town, we decided it would be a great idea to get up at the crack of dawn the next day and hike up Volcan Baru, the highest point in all of Panama. From the top it is possible to see both the Pacific Ocean and the Carribbean, weather permitting. We mentioned to a few people at the hostel that we were planning to hike the volcano and they asked if we were going to do the hike overnight. After an overnight hike up half dome just a couple of months ago, we were in no mood to spend another sleepless night walking with headlamps. Not to mention, we had no idea what kind of trail we were getting into, a guide costs $90 per person, and there was a missing person's poster hanging in the hostel looking for a guy who attempted the hike a few days prior and never came back. True story.

In anticipation of our grueling hike the next day, we stuck to a strict regimen of cervezas and french fries until about midnight. Incredibly, while drinking beers, we saw a girl that looked exactly like Joe Dirt. Actually, Marisa first noticed this girl because it looked like she wasn't wearing any pants. Then, I noticed the sweet mullet. Now, up until this point, I only knew one other person in this world who could recite "Joe Dirt" line for line (Chaney). Out of nowhere, the man next to me started saying that he wanted to hook up with Joe Dirt, and proceeded to crack us up with quotes from the movie. The man's name was Slade and he was effectively pursuing the ultimate endless summer, surfing in competitions around the world. We asked him if he was a pro-surfer and he responded, "No." It was his belief that someone could only be considered a professional if they can make a living doing that special something. We asked him what he did for a living to fund the endless summer. He shrugged and told us that at the ripe age of 32, he still has never had a job. He just surfs... On top of that, he had recently gotten second place in a surf competition in Costa Rica and was currently partying away his $1500 prize with us and a bucket of beers. Quite the character. We consider him a professional.

After another bucket of beers, we were able to convince one of our other new friends to join us at 5am the next morning to tackle the volcano. Sometimes you look at someone and think, "Wow! They look sporty... like a natural athlete." Others you look at and think, "Wow! They just agreed to hike 30km at altitude and they haven't stopped chain smoking all night... they must be a natural athlete... or really dumb." Yes, the hike was 30 km round trip (18 miles for us Americans), climbing about 2000 meters (over 6000 feet) and after about 4 km we lost our new friend. Like the night before, he started the morning smoking a cigarette while we waited for the cab to take us to the base of the Volcano. It took about 5 minutes into the hike before he was gasping for breath and about 45 minutes before he gave up. Listening to his breathing actually made me breath harder, hoping that some of my residual oxygen would make it into his lungs.

After our friend's departure, we continued the next 26km alone. The trail was one of the worst we have ever hiked, and it didn't help that it was the rainy season. That said, the hike provided some incredible scenery. In one valley we passed through, we came across a field of wild lilies (neither of us had ever seen lilies in the wild) and in another Marisa saw her first baby sheep up close. Along the way, we got a couple awesome views of the Pacific Ocean. In total, it took us 5 hours to reach the top and we had blue skies the whole way... almost. When we were within 100 meters of the top, it went from blue skies to downright nasty within 20 seconds. Windy, misty, rainy, cold. We couldn't see more than 10 feet in front of us at times. We hung out at the top long enough to snap a few pix and catch our breath, then headed back down. It rained the whole way down. When we got to the bottom we realized that we were still like 10km from town and there was not a taxi in sight. Fortunately, we managed to hitch hike back to town. I don't know if it was the amount of leg that Marisa was showing off, or the fact that people think I can speak Spanish for the first 10 seconds... but a nice local picked us up and even gave us a tour of the town before dropping us off back at our hostel.

When we returned, Marisa checked her email and saw a message from the Osbornes asking us to call as soon as we got back. Janet and Newton are our new friends, and the parents of Marisa's friend from high school. We called and Janet quickly came to pick us up and "save us" from the hostel life. They were wonderful hosts and showed us around Boquete for three days to ensure we got a feel for life there. Newton grew up in Panama, so it was a great way to learn about Panama and how much the country has changed over the last several decades. Our other favorite member of the family was their new dog, Lexi! Janet warned us before we got to the house that they have a crazy dog and we learned why...she's half lab and half pit bull! Janet pretty much freaked out when I told her that Lexi looked like a pit bull mix. I had to pull up pictures online to prove it to her. If you are reading this, Janet, thank you for being our "Panama mom" and ensuring we had enough snacks, contact numbers and plans for the rest of the country.


It turns out that the best coffee in the world is produced in Boquete so we finally sacked up to take a real coffee plantation tour... 3 hours worth of coffee education. It was actually a great, informative experience and we now know all 16 steps in the coffee making process. Proof: hand picking, washing, floating, pre-drying, drying, peeling, sorting by shape, sorting by size, sorting by density, sorting by color, roasting, drinking, drinking some more, pooping it out... Well, it turns out that we should have paid a little more attention and written our blog a week ago because we can't remember all the steps now! Anyway, on our walk through the fields, our guide pointed out the most expensive beans, the Geisha, and naturally I pilfered a fruit off one of the bushes to dry and send back to Mountain View. If anyone can grow a coffee plant, its my mama. Last year, the Geisha beans unroasted sold for $440 a pound. Although it is grown in Boquete, you can't taste it because it is only exported. Fine. We'll grow some on our own then... suckas!

Chapter Dos: Playa

"The sun was high overhead, luckily, the palm trees provided shade for our hammocks gently swaying in the warm breeze. There was no ice on our tropical island the size of a football field, no coca-cola either, but there was enough rum to last for 3 days! So I drank the rum till it was gone... and in the process, found myself turning darker and darker... transforming into The Fire God!"

Again, true story... I'll back up again.

As we planned the last 2 weeks left in Panama, we decided to stop somewhere along the Pacific to check out Panama's Pacific beaches. We learned that aside from the bigger vacation destinations in Panama, the rest is pretty undeveloped and empty. We went to Playa Santa Clara, which we read was one of the nicest beaches along the Pacific...hmm...we spent one night. One night was one night too much.

We hopped the first bus out of there and headed for Panama City. A few days prior, we had received a recommendation from Janet's friend to check out a hostel in Panama City that set up trips to the Commarca de San Blas. For those not in the know, San Blas is a conglomeration of about 400 islands (aka 400 slices of tropical paradise with white sand and palm trees and crystal clear water) occupied by the Kuna Yala, an indigenous tribe that has been technically autonomous from Panama since the 1930s. Somehow, they have maintained their traditional lifestyle, living in thatched roof huts, with no running water or electricity. Thus, the tourists do the same. We had heard mixed reviews about whether San Blas was an option for budget travelers. On top of that, we'd heard that you have to bring your own food because some islands don't have enough. Wrong and kinda wrong. We got to the hostel and were told we could leave the next morning for San Blas in a 4x4. Then, when we arrived in the islands, it would only cost $20 per night, 3 meals included. Granted the lady that set us up only spoke Spanish, so we weren't COMPLETELY sure what we were getting ourselves into, but from what we understood, sounded sweet!

Now, most people fly to the Islands of San Blas. Yet, we are not most people. We are on a shoestring budget. So, we awoke at 4:30 the next morning to be picked up by a 4x4 that would drive us along a road that didn't even exist on any map of Panama for 5 hours, all the way to Carribean side of Panama, where a little wooden boat with a 25hp motor would take on the open ocean for over an hour to get to our own private island, Isla Pelicano.

Remember that scene from "Pirates of the Caribbean," when Johnny Depp gets stranded on a deserted island. Well, that's what our island looked like. It was straight out of a movie set. The place where the pirates dropped their treasure and drank rum. And that's exactly what we did, we drank rum and relaxed. In fact, there was nothing else to do but relax. Our island was the size of about half a football field and slept about 20 people. The water was turquoise blue, with snorkeling just off the tip of the island, calm waves, tons of palm trees, coconuts and hammocks. As for the food, we were in heaven. When we first arrived, the island's chef informed us that the only thing he'd be able to feed us was fresh fish and lobster because that was all they can catch off the islands. We said, "Shit!" Uh... yeah, chef dude... I think we'll survive.

We spent the next 4 days making new friends, chatting with new friends, lounging in the water, napping in hammocks, napping in the water, lounging in the hammocks, eating more lobster than we have had in our lives... and drinking rum. We underestimated how remote this was going to be and when people said bring whatever you want to have the next few days they meant it, because there was no place to stock up. Fortunately we listened to their advice and brought like 9 liters of water, some cookies, and rum. Unfortunately, we forgot a mixer... or a chaser. Thus, straight up and warm it was. I was used to this from my days in the Corps, but Marisa is yet to appreciate the intricacies of rum on the rocks... minus the rocks. Good thing there were plenty of coconuts to cut open.

From the looks of it, we thought we could swim to the next island in the chain. We asked the chef if it was possible to swim with the ocean currents and what not, and he said that he had seen people do it before, but beware, because there are sharks when the water gets deep. Marisa didn't like hearing about the whole "shark" part... So I gave her some goggles, a yellow blow up raft, and quick shove... Off we went on our own private island hopping adventure. All went smoothly until we were 5 feet offshore. Marisa splashed her own self and started freaking out. All I could hear were screams about sharks and how not fun this was. All I could see was Marisa furiously paddling and splashing water all over her face, thus freaking herself out, sputtering on the salt water she swallowed, screaming again and repeating the cycle of splashing, screaming and sputtering. After about 10-15 minutes of furious paddling (honestly, I had to swim SOOO fast to keep up), we stood on the pristine white sand with palm trees overhead, and marveled at the fact that we were completely alone in our island paradise. This was the view of the island we swam to from our island:

Ahh yes, what about The Fire God, you might ask? Well, that same night, after swimming back to our island, while Marisa lay in a hammock engrossed in a book, I spent hours gathering firewood and making preparations for the world's largest bonfire. It was so impressive that I vowed to repeat the spectacle the following day. Several days after we had returned to Panama City, we ran into some people that had been on the island with us. They said that they tried to make a fire after we left, but couldn't find any driftwood left to burn. I win!


Capitulo Tres: La Ciudad

"The sun was high overhead, and it was hot as balls... the city lay in ruins around us. We stood alone in the wreckage of a church. Out of nowhere a man approaches us, and tells us not to proceed in the direction we had been traveling... or certain death awaits us."

You know the drill... beep beep beep <---- thats me backing up again!

We were pleasantly surprised with our last 6 days spent exploring Panama City. When you first hit the city, you can feel the influence of the American culture, the old Spanish culture, the Panamanian culture and the layers of history that built the city. We stayed in the old town of Casco Viejo, previously known as a ghetto, but in the midst of a recent renovation and overhaul. It was incredible being in the middle of city that next to ruins of buildings from centuries ago are brand new apartments, renovated, but maintaining the old style. It will be an interesting area to return to in 20 years, where it will probably be unrecognizable.

We also visited the ruins of the first town when the Spanish settled, Panama Viejo. While exploring the ruins of an old convent, some random dude walked up to us and started prattling to us in spanish. We had no idea what he was saying so we started to leave because we assumed we were doing something wrong. Then he informed us we should not venture deeper into the ruins, because the area has had numerous robberies and murders recently. He literally took his hand, formed a gun with his fingers, and put it to my temple to get the point across... some gestures transcend language barriers. I guess we look lost in life. Or maybe we looked too nice. Or maybe he could tell that our brains were like sponges ready to soak up the history of our surroundings. Because after the stern warning, our saviour turned into our tour guide. He then proceeded to walk us around and tell us a history of all the old ruins. We also learned that we had chosen the one day the cathedral (main attraction of the ruins) was closed for cleaning and restoration. As we stood at the gate to the cathedral, I noticed two people sitting under a tree in the midst of the ruins. So I turned to our guide and asked, "What about them, why are they allowed in there?" He didn't even look in the direction I pointed. Simply responded with, "Those are the maintainance crew, their working, their allowed inside." I looked again, there were definitely two white chicks sitting under a tree with a lonely planet book. So I turned back to our guide and said, "No way dude... those aren't workers. Those are white chicks for sure." So as our guide walked in to kick the other girls out, he let us in behind him and we ran up the bell tower. As we ran away, we could hear the other chicks asking, "Hey, why are they allowed to stay? Why don't you kick them out!?" After a quick video moment at the top, we tipped our guide and took off.

The rest of our time was spent on little day trips around the city, checking out the canal and other important tourist destinations. A notable tourist attraction that you won't find in a guidebook roams all over the city...the decked out school buses that serve as "public transportation."

We filled the days with city walks and the evenings hanging out in our hostel with our new friends. Funny enough, all of our island of San Blas was staying in the same hostel, the only place to be in Panama City...Luna's Castle. This place was a trip, built out of an old, creeky colonial mansion, it was 3 stories, had it's own bar where guests could order $.50 beers and even it's own make-shift movie theater. People of note were the Germans and the one Spaniard who we spent most of the next week with and the Frenchy who got me sick. Marisa even learned a few key German phrases, "Hast do einen haufen geisest" ("did you take a poo?") for example.



On our last full day in Panama City we decided to take a ferry to a nearby island and catch some sun before we flew to Miami to fly to Peru. Unfortunately, on the ferry ride over, the sky looked like the apocalypse was coming. See the photo below:
Five minutes before we reached the island it proceeded to pour. We spent our first hour on the island huddled underneath the awning of the dock with the rest of the ferry passengers. Even the people with cars on the island were waiting under the awning for the storm to pass. When the rain finally subsided enough, we sought shelter at a restaurant and waited for the storm to pass. We tried laying out on the beach for about 10 minutes before we realized that it would continue to drizzle just enough to piss us off. The sand was wet enough that it soaked through the bottom of our blanket, the drizzle was just enough that it left us cold and the pages of our books damp, the sun wasn't enough to get a tan, or even keep you warm. In a word, miserable. Some might think, why not just go back to the city. Because we were prisoners on the island. There was one boat that went to the island and it sat there all day until 4:30 when it would take passengers back. We had no choice but to wait. Laying on the beach was a fool's errand. Our first thought was to explore the island, but we ran out of island to explore within 10 minutes. So, in an attempt to escape the gloominess of reality, we sought sunshine in the bottom of a bottle, actually several bottles...of beer. At a nice little restaurant, up in the cliffs, overlooking the ocean, the yachts, and the nasty weather, we drank our last "Panama" beers (really, that's the name of the beer).

Capitulo Quatro: Miami

"El sol estaba alto generales y estabamos de regreso en los Estados Unidos. Que?!"

Well, it turns out that trying to get from Panama into South America is not a cheap endevour. Due to druglords, drugs, guns, and people with drugs and guns, there is no road between Panama and Columbia. And Panama likes it that way because it keeps the guns, drugs and Columbians with drugs and guns, out of Panama. The airlines realize they have a monopoly on the transportation situation and exploit the hell out of it. It was significantly cheaper for us to fly to Miami, then book a flight to Peru, by way of Mexico City, than fly the 3 hours from Panama to Peru. We made lemonade out of those lemons and spent the weekend in Miami Beach, catching up on some news, HGTV, and football, go 9ers, whoop whoop.

Next stop, Lima.

Hasta Luego!

Mikey&Marisa