Two Canadian Jews in Search of Landsmen

Jewish brethren, I have a question for you.

When travelling, how many of you roll the country you are visiting around in your mind and ask, “Could I live here if forced to leave my home?”

It isn’t as far-fetched a notion as many might seem to think. Our ancestors have been exiled from places and regions just as or even more enlightened than those in which we now reside. Most of our grandparents or great-grandparents came from countries that either wouldn’t provide religious, economic, and social equality for them or tried to ethnically cleanse them out of existence. So, I ask again. If forced to leave your home, where could you see yourself living?

Israel? Perhaps, but the constant war-footing and the lack of equality for progressive Jews and in many places, women, makes the country somewhat suspect for me.

Nope. I found my haven today and it is happily situated on the South American Atlantic. I absolutely could see myself living and thriving in Montevideo, Uruguay.

Now, I should explain that I knew very little about this country before we arrived. Most of what I recall about Uruguay and Jews came from newsreels about Israeli partition or the movie Exodus. Uruguay was the first Latin American country to vote for a free and independent Israel and they were the country that put the partition plan over the top during that historic UN vote. They were also the first Latin American country to open an embassy in the state and to welcome the Israeli ambassador to its capital. The Zionist roots here run deep but their Jewish history is long and proud.

We took a private tour today of Jewish Montevideo. I found a wonderful guide on Trip Advisor who has been lovingly ferrying Jewish tourists around the city for years. Fanny Margolis is a former teacher and a very involved member of the Jewish community here. She was thrilled to give us the history of the Jews in this area. The first Jewish settlers were refugees from the expulsions of both Spain and Portugal. These Sephardic Jews made their way to the territories of the Americas to find peace and prosperity. Uruguay has fluctuated for generations between the kingdoms of both with the Portuguese of Brazil battling for territorial rights with the Spaniards of Argentina. The Uruguyans finally achieved their independence in 1830 and the next wave of Jewish immigration took place at the beginning of the twentieth century. Jews escaping the pogroms and degradation of Eastern Europe found their way to these shores mostly due to quotas in immigration in North America. In Uruguay, they found a country that values secularism, (there is a strict separation between church and state) public education, state-administered health care, and a fully democratic governance. With the exception of a dozen or so dark years in the 1970s and early 80s when the country was run by a dictatorship, Uruguay has been faithful to these principles throughout its history. It’s a great place for Jews to thrive.

The last wave of Jewish immigration came after the Holocaust. Many German and Hungarian Jews tried to make their way here before the war but were rebuffed by treaties. After the war, more than three-thousand Jewish refugees came to Montevideo to try and pick up the pieces. At its height, there were 50,000 Jews living in the city and surrounding areas. There are still remnants of the Jewish shops, (it felt like wandering through Kensington Market or along Spadina Avenue in Toronto) old synagogues of both the Sephardim and Ashkenazim, a communal centre that runs day schools and childcare, as well one of the most beautiful Holocaust memorials I have ever seen outside of Yad Vashem. This is a place that is very proud of its Jewish heritage and at how easily Jews have integrated and assimilated into Uruguayan society.

The Jewish population is dwindling here. Fanny estimates that no more than 10,000-15,000 still live in the country. The Zionist foundations have taken many through Aliyah to Israel and many of the younger generations have scattered across the globe. They are facing many of the same problems that are the Jews of North America. Assimilation, inter-marriage, or simply a move away from religious practices is plaguing this community but there is still a dedicated group who are involved and trying to maintain Jewish customs and heritage.

Montevideo is also one of the most architecturally distinct cities we have visited. The diverse range of art deco and colonial styles reflects on its multi-cultural history. It is a city brimming with culture, nightlife, museums, and theatres. They love their city squares and parks and are extraordinarily proud of the greenery and green space. It is also really hot here in the summer (It is 40℃ today. I hate writing that knowing that my dear ones at home are suffering from snow and cold. Today has been the hottest day of our trip.) and very moderate in the winter, just perfect for a Jew who hates the Canadian winters.

So, I ask again Members of the Tribe. Where could you live if forced to flee your home?

Check out Montevideo, Uruguay. A Jewish haven in South America.

The Sephardic Centre

Part of the Holocaust Memorial

Old Jewish signage in the Old City

I Love a Good Immigrant Story

I really like immigrant stories. There is something very compelling about the narratives told by those leaving their homelands and venturing out into the world unknown. Sometimes those tales are harrowing and sometimes they are heroic. In my mind, it takes great courage to pull up stakes and to start over but it really boggles my brain to think that people journeyed to places that were so foreign to them that even climate or industry was beyond their ken.

We have seen that time and again on this trip. There are the pockets of German peoples that still populate parts of Chile and here in the Argentinian Patagonia, there is a deep Welsh tradition. These immigrants from Wales came without knowing anything about agriculture, language, or climate. They were mostly miners from the southern part of the UK who decided that a better life was waiting for them here in this rocky and often desolate area. They weren’t fleeing persecution but rather saw advancement awaiting them in a place so different from the one in which they were raised. I think that that takes tremendous gumption and fortitude and it should serve as a reminder that all of us either are or come from a place of immigration. We should never get so far ahead of ourselves that we pretend others don’t deserve the right to the same opportunities that were afforded our grandparents.

The annual migration of the Magellanic penguins is kind of like these Welsh immigrants. Every year, they return in the spring to the shores of Punta Tomba and dig out their rookeries in order to breed. Thousands of them come back to this area to lay their eggs and tend their young. It was a sight to behold as we trekked through the barrenness of this area, only to finally come to the beaches and see these birds swimming, waddling, playing, and feeding. They were oblivious to all of us bipeds as they blissfully went about their business. We northerners are conditioned to think of penguins as cold-weather birds but these beauties were frolicking around in the surf or just hanging in their sand caves in 25℃ weather. These waddlers are a resilient lot who come here every year just to lay their two eggs. Both parents tend the chicks but often can’t move back and forth between ocean and nest fast enough to keep both babies alive. They are sometimes faced with Sophie’s Choice as to which baby earns the prize. We saw several dead chicks outside of the rookeries and it literally broke my heart. Those who do manage to make it, are now getting close to moulting their baby feathers as they begin to learn self-survival. By April, these birds will leave for sea, only to begin the migration process all over again in August.

These Magellanic penguins have gumption and fortitude. They do what they do because it is in the best interest of their species. They travel thousands of kilometres each and every year to this place because it offers them the best chances of survival and opportunity. I feel so blessed to have had the opportunity to commune with them for a few hours today.

I really do love a great immigrant story.

Today Was All About Penguins. Indeed.

The Husband has a nasty habit of saying that this trip is all about Dawn seeing penguins.

I beg to differ. 

This trip is somewhat about Dawn seeing penguins.

Ok.

It’s a lot about Dawn seeing penguins.

We tried several times in Australia and New Zealand but the penguin gods weren’t smiling down on us during that trip. I was only slightly devastated to learn that in order to take a trip across the Magellan Strait to view the breeding grounds of the Magellanic penguins, I would have to suffer five hours on a small boat designed as a device of torture for anybody who suffers from chronic motion sickness or vertigo. That was definitely out of my range. (As it turned out, that was the port that was closed during this trip so all of those people felt the angry wrath of the penguin gods that day.)

But today…today was the day. This day was many years in the making, hoping, wishing, praying, and just flat out begging for. 

And it wasn’t really all that easy to do. We had to leave our tendered ship in the bay just off of the coast of Port Stanley in the Falkland Islands. As an aside…I am going to require a history lesson from both my British and Argentinian friends as to why this little piece of rock is so very important to both sides. There are still signs up all over the islands warning Argentinians to respect the sovereignty of the place and to renounce their claim to the land. We were told that up until a few years ago, Argentinians weren’t allowed to even visit the island but that has now been relaxed. I was also stunned to learn that the minefields that were laid down by the Argentinians during the 1982 conflict are just now starting to be removed. The Islanders, or Kelpers as they call themselves, merely fenced them off until help arrived in the form of Zimbabwe explosive experts just two years ago.

But old grudges aside, today was all about penguins. After the tender docked in Port Stanley, we boarded a small van that shepherded us to Bluff’s Cove about thirty minutes away. From there we met our 4x4 driver Ron, a fifth-generation kelper, who traversed the very uneven fields to the cove.

We were mesmerized at first glance. Hundreds of Gentoo penguins were there in the rookeries nesting with the newly hatched chicks. Unfazed by the human gazes, the birds were very happy to preen, call out, and nestle with their families. At times it felt as though they were posing just for us. In the middle of the Gentoo colony was a small group of King or Emperor penguins. (Think March of the Penguins.) These tall and majestic creatures were having a ball with us idiots and we were able to witness them sitting on eggs and passing off the eggs to their mates. The Husband and I stood in the blustering winds for over an hour just snapping photos and getting right down on the ground with these beautiful creatures.

This area is one of the last on earth that has been left untouched by human invaders. The birds are happy to frolic back and forth between their rookeries to the shores of the Atlantic and don’t care one whit about the prying camera lenses or a few bipods. The locals have taken great care to ensure the penguins' safety and well-being and are extraordinarily protective of their winged neighbours. It is truly a symbiotic relationship that has developed here.

The Kelpers are a lovely bunch. They are excited to greet the tourists and sell them all that they can but they are just as excited to talk about their home. Ron told us that he wouldn’t live anywhere else and as long as this place is under a British flag, he will remain.

We have one other opportunity to view penguins in Puerto Madryn in a couple of days but I am not sure how anything can top the feeling of pure exhilaration of today. Today was most definitely ALL ABOUT PENGUINS.

Following in the Footsteps of Darwin

I apologize for keeping you all hanging. The last few days have had their ups and downs…literally. As a sufferer of motion sickness, I come very preparedly for these occasional battles with the beast but it must be said that the beast hasn’t yet encountered some of the swells and winds off the southern tips of Chile’s Pacific coast. I won’t bore you all with the details but suffice it to say that missing a few meals is not a diet plan I would recommend when on holiday.

It wasn’t just me, though. The Husband certainly took his share of my medication and there were more than just a few “Do Not Disturb” signs on cabin doors for many hours. One of the waiters we encountered told us that the rocking and rolling was enough for him to miss his afternoon nap. The poor baby. But the weather was enough to cancel our port at Punta Arenas. The tenders couldn’t get across the water and then the authorities closed the port off to all vessels. It meant that our hike in Patagonia fell off of the proverbial cliff but it also meant that we were treated to some stunning scenery through the fjords and a few extra glaciers that would have been normally traversed by night. A rainbow in every cloud.

We finally got to put our feet on terra firma again today in the coastal town of Ushuaia on the Isla Grande de Tierra del Fuego. A former penal colony, Ushuaia is tucked into a cove just adjacent to the Beagle Channel; named as a tribute to the HMS Beagle that carried Charles Darwin around the tip of South America. Any place that reveres Darwin is okay in my books even if the climate hovers in the subpolar environs. So what do two people who are tired of sea life do when they finally get off a ship? Why they take a nature tour of the Beagle Channel, of course.

Cold, windy, on more water with waves, and truly magnificent. We were thrilled to see thousands of emperor cormorants (they look a bit like penguins) back for the mating season as were the rock cormorants and the black-headed Argentinian seagulls. The small rock islands in the cove a few kilometres out from Ushuaia are their homes at this time of year. The South American sea lion is also home for the mating season and we were able to get up close and personal with many of these majestic and very noisy creatures. Our final stop on our little mini cruise took us to Les Éclaireurs lighthouse. While it isn’t technically the “lighthouse at the end of the world”, it is pretty close. The one at the bottom of the island, about three-hundred kilometres south, has that distinction but this one is still pretty stunning.

I know that I have said things like this before but I am enthralled by animals and other wildlife doing what they are supposed to do in the places in which they are supposed to do it. I haven’t shopped one bit on this trip and that’s mostly because I cannot avert my eyes from the next splendour around each turn. We humans have yet to figure out how best to share this planet and the more I travel the more certain I am at how badly we have fucked it up. We cannot ever pretend again to take anything in our natural world for granted and it is up to us to find solutions to protect what is still here for us to marvel at. I am not blind to the macro solutions that are necessary to achieve by governments and industry but I am also not willing to tolerate the bullshit any longer from climate deniers in charge. I’ve seen a great deal in the past two weeks and with a week to go I hope to see more. My eyes are wide open. Are Yours?

Chile's Natural Wonders

The more places I visit in the world and the more I get to view the natural wonders available in each country, the sadder and angrier I become at how badly we are abusing a planet that was bequeathed to our care. How can we as a species still pretend that the earth is not being slowly poisoned due to our greed, our incompetence, our apathy, or our blind ambivalence? It stuns me to think that anybody who is privileged enough to have seen some of nature’s miracles up close and personal could still not be on the right side of this issue. I felt all of that and more today when we toured the Lake Region in the south of Chile.

After tendering in Puerto Montt, we immediately headed over to Esmeralda Lake to take in its unbelievably clear turquoise waters and to view its three surrounding active volcanoes, Osorno, Tronador, and Puntiagudo. The Osorno is particularly stunning with its glacial peak rising over 8,700ft into the sky. Often called the Fujiyama of South America, it is one of the best known active volcanoes in the Chilean Andes. Even though it hasn’t blown since the mid-1850s, Osorno is still considered active and Charles Darwin wrote about watching an eruption while on one of his expeditions. The glacier at the peak is eroding and melting by leaps and bounds and our guide told us that experts are very concerned about the future of the lake and the adjoining Petrohue River and waterfalls. The bright blue waters and falls are home to quite a bit of local wildlife but their habitats are being invaded by encroaching human homes and there is a deep concern for the pristine ecosystems. As we hiked through the park, I wondered if any of this would be the same in twenty years.

The small lakeside town of Puerto Montt is charming and lovely in the summer. Families might take in a day at the beach or simply stroll into some of the many cafes or shops. We decided to just take in some more breathtaking views of the volcanoes. It is a vista that I won’t soon forget.

A few notes.

*My Spanish isn’t really all that bad. (My high school Spanish teacher Sra. Lee would have been proud) But this story is one for the books. I told our guide in ENGLISH that we were vegetarian and that the salmon they were serving for lunch would be better off on somebody else’s plate. I then told our waitress “Somos vegetarianos. Por favor, no pescado.” (Google it!) The head waiter then proceeded to bring us each a huge plate of mashed potatoes. Ok. Can’t really fault him but then…he apologized for the fish and instead brought us a plate of….CHICKEN. Chicken is the new veggie meal here in Chile. I have been a vegetarian for decades and have never once thought to substitute chicken. We couldn’t stop laughing. I guess something was lost in translation because he came back to inquire. We explained again and he apologized profusely and brought us a veggie pasta. We really didn’t care but it is one for the vegetarian handbook.

*We cannot complain at all about the weather. When we left the ship this morning it looked to be cloudy and socked in. By the time we came to the lake, it was sunny and stunning.

Chi Chi Chi...Le Le Le

What week that was!

After a breathtakingly mystical time in Peru, we departed our new favourite country for Santiago, Chile. Our travel day was long, complicated, and exhausting but we made it safe and sound. We are two hours ahead of EST here in the southern part of the continent so even though our tour guides “allowed” us to sleep until about 7:00am this morning, we really still had to get up at 5. I have never seen 72 more tired individuals as were all of us when we finally boarded the ship this afternoon.

Before that momentous occasion, though, there was a quick city tour of Chile’s capital city and a jaunt through its renowned wine country in order to get to the port.

It is lovely and warm here at the beginning of the summer. Santiago is a very cosmopolitan city that boasts about eight-million of Chile’s eighteen-million citizens. Situated between two distinct mountain ranges, The Coastal and The Andes, Santiago is busy and very western in nature. Driving through the downtown, one could imagine being in Manhattan or downtown Toronto. Unlike Lima, the history of the city isn’t visible on every street but rather is melded deep into the neighbourhoods and cornerstones. It is very amusing to me that while in Peru, we heard of all of the victories over the Chileans while here in Chile we hear the opposite.

As we left the downtown core for the countryside, it was easy to see why this country is well-regarded for its agricultural exports and more recently its dominance on the world wine market.

We will have two more days to see more of this lovely southern country as we sail toward Cape Horn and undoubtedly I will have much more to share. Stay tuned to this space.

Bon Voyage!

(A few of you have asked for a picture of the two of us. Here you go!)

From Machu Picchu

Those Incas Knew How to Build a City

We were up a 5:00am for another trek up to Machu Pichu. It was expected to be yet another wet day in the cloud forest but the sun was shining and gave us a totally different view of the Incan marvel. We hiked to the very top of the summit this morning and were gifted with magnificent vistas, a burst of sunshine that glistened off the damp trails, warm temperatures, and a few llamas to gawk at on the hike. I have never been so tired and so exhilarated all at the same time. I sat on a rock on the trail and said Shehechiyanu softly to myself because it seemed so very appropriate. I'm going to allow The Husband's photographic work speak for itself because sometimes, it is best to leave the words behind.

Baruch Atah Adonai Eloheinu Melech Ha-Olam
Shehchiyanu V'kimanu, V'higianu Lazman Ha-zeh.

Blessed are You Adonai our God Ruler of the Universe
For giving us life, sustaining us, and enabling us to reach this day.

**We are sadly leaving Peru tomorrow en route to Santiago, Chile. Since it is a travel day, this blog will have a day off. See you all from Santiago.

Landslide!

This is what we get for travelling to the Andes in the rain season.

So here’s the story as we know it. We left Ollantaytambo on schedule at 9:15 this morning aboard a quaint little Peruvian train bound for Machu Picchu. The trains move slowly and on a single track excepting for a few switch locations to enable passing. (Keep this nugget in your memories for later. It matters.) Our tour of 20 people has joined together with another 52 onboard, so we are a United Nations of souls all with the same goal: see the palace of the Incas before we depart to the glaciers in the sky.

And we almost made it.

About two miles outside of the train station at Aguas Calientes, the train ground to an unscheduled stop. After about fifteen minutes the announcement came. There was a landslide on the tracks just ahead of us and some “debris” needed to be cleared. Well, that debris has now become a boulder that requires heavy machinery to both move and...wait for it...explode. There was no question that we would have to reverse course to allow the machinery and explosives through but...it seems that there was another landslide behind us and we couldn’t reverse course until the machinery cleared that mess. Two and a half hours after we first came to a halt, we just saw the heavy lifters and (ack) explosives pass us by. We are all now taking bets as to whether or not we will make the site today. I should say that the train company and the tour company have been exceptional and keeping us comfortable and apprised of any changes. Most of our travelling companions have been great sports but there is always an asshole or two in every bunch.

While we wait, I thought that maybe I might tell you about some of the people we have suddenly become quite close to. There is the lovely couple from Glasgow with whom we seem to have been paired often on this tour. He is a boisterous chap and is probably the only non-scotch drinking Scot we have ever met. The Husband expressed his great disappointment. She is quieter but I swear that she is a doppelgänger for Princess Anne.

We have been seated on the train with an Aussie couple from Sydney who is travelling with their adult daughter. The daughter is trying far to hard to look hip and has instead settled for that 80s trashy look, complete with big hair, lots of cheap jewelry, and mom jeans that don’t fit the way I think she had hoped they would. They are typical Aussies in that they take everything in its stride.

There is an Uno game going on down the aisle amongst the Wisconsinites while the German couple behind me is struggling to converse with a few southerners from Georgia. We had breakfast this morning with a sweet couple from Thunder Bay who defines the word Canuck. He told us of growing up in the bush until it was time for him to start school. He is a complete character who seemed to have walked right out of an early Margaret Atwood or Margaret Laurence novel.

Several pop culture references have entered my mind as we are now entering hour three sitting on this train. Harry Chapin’s song The Rock has certainly crossed through my psyche more than once, as has a fleeting image of Hercule Poirot solving the mystery in Murder on the Orient Express. Here’s hoping this trip doesn’t meet a similar fate.

I should say that the scenery is quite breathtaking. We are in the outer edge of the Amazon rainforest in a place the locals call the cloud forest. We have seen wild orchids right beside the tracks and several lovely but unidentifiable birds. It has rained off and on all day as this is totally expected for this time of year. With any luck and the grace of TNT, we will still be able to see the jewel of the Incan empire today.

Travel stories aren’t always perfect. Going with the flow is part of the game.

Keep you all posted.

Four hours, a few blasting caps, and a terrifying bus ride up the mountains later, we have arrived. It is pouring rain and nobody cares at all. I have to say that this is one of the most amiable groups of people I have ever had the privilege to tour with. Really! A few grumbles but otherwise just feeling blessed to be here. A few thoughts about the ruins later.

Machu Pichu almost defies description. It was almost worth four hours on a stalled train in the middle of a landslide. We spent almost three hours in the pouring rain climbing through the old Incan palace and I can honestly say that I didn't feel wet. (Note to Twin Son and His Better Half: If you are reading this, Iceland was worse!) The rain created an almost mystic quality and it felt like we were doing what the Incas had hoped we would; worship the life-giving properties of the heavens. We have an early rise to return tomorrow and hopefully, a bit of sunshine will peek through to give us a different view of this unbelievable wonder.

As an addendum to this post. Apparently, Robert DeNiro was on the train stuck behind us and all of the local news was filled with stories about he almost didn't get to tour the ruins. It is more than likely he will be back tomorrow morning. If we run into him, I'll grab a photo.

Machu Pichu in the rain and mist

Pride in One's Heritage

There is a wonderful tranquillity that seems to come over people when they inherently understand that they aren't competing with anybody. They find comfort in their own skin that makes the rest of those around them yearn for whatever potion they have consumed.

I am finding the same serenity in the Andean people. They have a fundamental grasp on their heritage and know that they owe apologies to nobody nor do they feel the need to boast about being the greatest or the most exceptional because they have literally outlived all of the world's mega-powers. Our Andean guide, Ernesto, is exceptionally proud of his Wari people but he is always quite deferential to the Incans who came to this land thousands of years after his ancestors settled in these mountains. He is quick to point out the accomplishments of his and other pre-Incan tribes but he is also very happy to claim the Incan progression and additions as his own as a proud Peruvian. That was very apparent today as he led us through and up (way up!) the archaeological marvel that is the fortress and temple at Ollantaytambo. Various groups of Andeans have been adding to this incredible site for centuries and the Incas were the last of these nations. The skill and engineering knowledge pre-dates anything the Egyptians or the Romans could have imagined as the Incas merely built on the work of the Andean tribes from thousands of years before.

There is also a tremendous peace of mind in knowing that the work you do is based, not only in the history and teachings of one's family but also in the glorification of the natural world. The farmers here are intent on doing their work in a fashion that honours their ancestors. There are no tractors or mechanical devices used in the fields and instead, we've seen oxen or entire families with handtools. Honestly. Pickaxes and hoes. There is a philosophy of reciprocity that is understood amongst neighbours, so it isn't at all unusual to see groups of friends work one plot of land before moving on to another. The excitement they have when the rain finally comes is something to behold.

Finally, there is pride in the work. The weavers and artisans of the area are true craftspeople who use only the implements and supplies that nature offers. The intricate colours and patterns of the cloth are made from the wools of the native llamas and alpacas and are expertly cleaned, dyed, and woven with loving hands. An insect found in the local cacti or leaves or berries provide all the colouring necessary and they are truly works of art.

As I am typing this post, there is a light rain falling outside my window and a magnificent rainbow has presented itself over the mountains. I'm choosing to see it as a sign that we have honoured our Andean brothers and sisters today by acknowledging the depth of their contributions and by taking the time to understand them a bit better. I hope that no government, business, corporation, or selfish tyrant ever disrupts the beauty these people have built for almost 4500 years.

A few notes.

* The headaches from the change of altitude have disappeared. I am really into this coca tea and the muña is delicious.

*The weather here can change on a dime. I was sweating, sunburned, and freezing all in the space of a few hours.

*We were treated to a traditional Peruvian lunch called a Pata Manca. Think of it as a Peruvian luau. The food is all cooked in a pit in the ground covered by hot rocks. The vegetables and meat were done with local spices by a very proud chef who was excited to share the local delicacy...guinea pig. I'm serious. These creatures are cooked on a spit and weigh in between three and four pounds. I settled for the vegetarian option.

A local trying to help the tourists

We climbed the whole thing

So beautiful

Incans and Andes

There is a lovely legend as told by the followers of the various Andean religions that was adopted by the Incans in the fifteenth century. According to the native peoples here in the Andes, when a person dies, their soul is lifted up to the height of the glaciers at the peaks of the mountains. The snow and ice will then melt and funnel down into the valleys so that their spirits can nourish the crops helping to feed a grateful nation.

I can honestly say that this is one of the most beautiful ideas of life after death that I have ever heard and it was just one of the many gems that we encountered during our first day in Cusco and the Sacred Valley. The people here are farmers by history and supporters of tourism by necessity. They have found ways to thrive in an ever-changing world and while their agrarian lives in these mountains are fully dependent on a climate that doesn't always cooperate, the tourists arrive 365 days a year and are more than willing to feed the economy.

Cusco is the capital of the Incan empire and today it is a thriving centre of over half a million people. Immigrants from all over the world are coming here to settle. The natives love the influx of cultures and seem to take on the best of everything as their own. It is a heritage that has worked really well in the religious realm as well. There was a thriving Jewish population at one time, descendants of those escaping the inquisitions in Spain and Portugal. Cusco is home to one of the oldest synagogues in the world but unfortunately, it has been shuttered for over two centuries. The Jews migrated down to Lima. As we toured a Catholic church in the old city, it was obvious by the iconography that even the archdiocese has inherently understood the needs of its parishioners to maintain their heritage and it has incorporated many symbols of the Andean religions. Madonnas wearing the garb of the weather gods adorn the chapels and mirrors are everywhere as a nod to the peoples' adulation for the gods of lightning and thunder.

These are the gods that are still worshipped at Saqsaywaman, a temple built right into the walls of the mountains that still today holds festivals and services. The people believe that hail is the most destructive precipitation because it catches fire and destroys crops. The gods of thunder and lightning together change the hail into life-giving rain. Rain is revered here and there is much joy during the rainy season. The enormous temple is spread out over half a mile and was begun by the Incan king Pachacuti. It took four generations and over one hundred years to complete. The stones that support the walls of the temple are remarkable in size and shape and it makes one wonder how rural people could possibly have created such a marvel. I loved looking up to the tops of the ridges and seeing people sitting in the rain in deep meditation.

The market in Pisac was our final stop for the day. The colourful wares of the local artisans were certainly magnificent but I honestly could have done without the child hucksters. It is school break here and it seems that these kids are being put to work.

We were a bit concerned about the altitude playing havoc with our systems, but we seem to be getting off easy with only a couple of slight headaches. I'm not at all certain if the coca leaves or the munya tea is really the cure-all for altitude sickness that all of the natives swear it is but I am all in and willing to try. Hopefully, we will acclimatize by tomorrow and we can forgo the ancient remedies.

Old City of Cusco

Saqsaywaman

The market at Pisac

Yoo Hoo, Peru!

We have finally arrived on the continent below our northern one. 

Our evening's worth of flying through to Lima via Panama City left us both a bit groggy and punchy so that when we finally did arrive at our destination close to 2:00am we weren't exactly certain if we actually did see all those casinos lining the main streets of the central business district. These Peruvians seem to really like their gambling. By the time we finally climbed into bed close to 3:00am we weren't sure which continent we were on let alone which city.

We have one very short day to take in some of the ambiance and atmosphere of Peru's capital city and we are doing this on very little sleep. Walking is always the best way to see a place and get a feel for it, so we decided to hoof it. Our hotel is in the San Isidro district, a lovely place with parks, shops, and restaurants but I was determined to see this city above the Pacific from the water's view. We meandered our way down towards Mira Flores, a high energy district that features Larcomar, a high-end mall built right into the cliffs overlooking the ocean. The views of the black sand beaches are simply spectacular from there. Yes...the sand really is black. It is the height of summer here so the beach is packed with sunbathers, surfers, swimmers, and kayaks. It is also a balmy but very humid 88 degrees F so a beach destination for many families complete with muchos helados y agua is most comforting. 

I had read about the Parque del Amor or the Park of Love on a travel blog and since we were in the area, we made the trek. It is a small park that sports magnificent panoramic vistas of the ocean and is completely dedicated to the theme of love. The curved mosaic benches and inscriptions had a real Barcelona feel and each sitting space is dedicated to a couple of lovers. We sat and enjoyed the day and we watched as a bride and groom made their way through the winding sculptures in order to pose for their wedding portraits.

Lima is a huge bustling city with a population that is bursting through every seam and crevice. The architecture is a glorious mishmash of Spanish baroque, conquistador, and 1960s schlock. Driving or walking through this city is truly an experiment in abject terror as cars never observe traffic patterns or signals and view pedestrians as mere irritants. Vision Zero? Hell, I think they would be happy with Vision 100. We didn't encounter a single stop sign on our more than 5-hour stroll. The modernity and vibrancy of the downtown core are in sharp contrast with the historic district and gives the traveller a great feeling of walking in the footsteps of kings. I do think it would have been nice to have a second day in Lima. It would have been lovely but other treasures await us. 

A few notes.

* My high school and internet Spanish is great for reading things and even for paying for some water on the beach but I am dumbstruck by how very fast people speak. I am convinced that in order to speak it and understand it properly, I would have to fully live in it.

* It is amazing how insecure one can feel without a handle on the language. Watching The Husband emit these blank stares in the Panama City airport when trying to navigate to our connection was grounding. I was able to let our flight attendants know that English was our language of choice but it is still jarring when you are the only one who doesn't understand. Now...apply that lack of confidence to immigrants to any country and how they manage to traverse the terrain. We have become very lazy linguists.

* I was fully prepared for street sellers to try and get me to buy a piece of the moon on a string but the guy who wanted to polish and clean our sneakers was a bit off the beaten track.

See. The sand really is black.

Parque Del Amor

The streets of Lima

We Be Off Again

“Travel makes one modest. You see what a tiny place you occupy in the world.” ~Gustav Flaubert

And so...

We are off once again.

In an ongoing attempt to expand our horizons and quench our wanderlust, The Husband and I are embarking on another adventure to places and sights previously unseen...by us at least. Heading south to the land below ours will afford me a privileged opportunity to put my feet on the soil of a fifth continent with a chance to cast a longing glance at a sixth. (Antartica will remain out of my desirous reach for the immediate future.) Once again, if you choose to follow our adventures, I will be providing a travelogue in this space. There will be some stories of places seen, people met, and hopefully, few travel mishaps. A few of The Husband's remarkable photographs might also grace these posts.

We have learned a lot about travel over the years so our bags are markedly lighter as we have taken far fewer clothing options, packed using smarter choices, and have avoided the bulk. We are also getting older, so while there may be fewer t-shirts there are also more drugs for any possible minor ailment one can imagine. God forbid I should need a GasEx in Cusco and not have one at the ready. I have more anti-puke medication then is probably necessary for our entire tour group to Machu Picchu but I have come to realize that half the battle in keeping the vomit at bay is my disturbed psyche simply knowing that I have enough to medicate the entire Canadian Navy, so cut me some slack. Stripping the shelves of Bonine at my local CVS  isn't at all weird.

The world is a big place being made to seem smaller every day. We think we understand all that is out there but until we get out of the protective bubbles we have built for ourselves, we run the risk of living very small and parochial lives. Travel, even travel that might seem different and a bit off the beaten path, is necessary to remind us that we are not alone here and that all of the world's inhabitants deserve a say in how we coexist.

I hope that I don't bore you all and that you find some measure of entertainment in seeing some of what we hope to see. See you soon from Lima.

“Once a year, go someplace you’ve never been before.” ~Dalai Lama