Tag Archives: CULTURE

The Bumpy Ride: Day 1 Hiking the Inca Trail

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Four am came bright and early.  It was the third consecutive day of rising at ungodly hours and my body was starting to notice the lack of sleep.  I was exhausted beyond belief yet exhilarated for today was finally day one of trekking the ancient Inca Trail to Machu Picchu.

The Inca Trail is part of the the incredible Inca road system which was the most extensive and advanced transportation system in pre-Columbian South America.  What makes this trek so incredible is its combination of awe-inspiring scenary, culture, and mystery.  For after four days walking, you rise at dawn and come upon the ancient ruins of Machu Picchu (before the tourists have arrived by train) and see the sight in all its glory.  An amazing experience!

We packed our gear for the four-day trip in the bright blue, ugly plastic knapsack provided by our tour company and to be used for our Quechua porters who would be carrying our gear for us along the trail.  Looking back, I much would have preferred that they carried our belongings in a large backpack as it felt inhuman to make them carry these makeshift packs, tied to their backs.  But I didn’t know and understand as much as I do now about trekking and the social obligations of humane treatment and respect of porters.  This was my first trek I’ve ever done and became the turning point for me in how I like to travel (i.e. by foot….the best way in my opinion).

We met our bus at 5 am, too early to really have any sort of breakfast, and boarded the jammed pack mini-bus which would take us to the start of the Inca trail.  Getting out of Cusco and its surroundings took forever.  We continually made stops to pick up other trekkers as well as our porters.

About half-way through the drive we stopped at a small, run-down village where we had a quick breakfast at a local tea house and then were rounded up to board another, much smaller bus.  We were a bit confused about why we were changing buses until we found out that the main highway to the Inca Trail was closed and we would need a smaller 1960s-styled bus in order to make the bridge crossings on the “detour” route.  I didn’t quite understand what they meant by that statement yet decided to just go with the flow.  Then, the adventure began….

Above is a photo of the village we stopped in for breakfast.  I could see the Andes mountains summoning me, hidden behind the low rising clouds in the background.

As often happens in a foreign country where there are language barriers, we had no idea why we were changing buses from the big to the small and then why we had to wait for thirty minutes on the bus before leaving.  It wasn’t explained until our cook finally boarded the bus, a half an hour later. 

There were five other people from all over the world, joining us on our four-day trek along the Inca Trail.  As the days went by, we would get to know each one of them quite well and were lucky to have a great group of people with no spoilers.  We also had a guide with us named Limas, our cook and several porters who were Quechua, the indiginous people of  Peru.  Apparently all the porters are farmers and do porter work on the side because it pays better at $4 per day and they are guaranteed to be fed three meals a day (reality check: the average salary in Peru was less than $1,000 a year…less than the cost of my trip).  Unfortunately none of the porters spoke English or Spanish making it impossible to communicate with them.  The local language of Peru is Quechua which was the official language until the Spanish conquistadors took over the country and brought along their Spanish language and culture.

As we proceeded along, the driver drove like a maniac, constantly honking his horn at any obstacle in his path from goat, donkeys, pigs and even people!  Then, a bit further out of the village I suddenly realized that the paved road had somehow magically disappeared and we were on some kind of rural, gravel road that was extremely bumpy and very narrow.

I tried not to think about any surprise encounters with an unsuspecting goat or worse yet, villager, and held my breath to fight the motion sickness that was engulfing my already queasy stomach.

Thankfully we couldn’t go very fast given the poor roads.  Our first bridge crossing was awaiting ahead.  One look at the size of the bridge made me instantly realize why the big bus had to go.  We would never have fit!

When we reached the bridge, our small bus came to an abrupt stop and all of the sudden I noticed the porters standing up and getting off the bus.  “Everyone out!”  Limas cried.  Confused, we got off the bus and were told to cross the bridge and wait on the other side.  It took me a minute to figure out the problem.

We never would have made it across with the extra weight of the passengers!  Culture shock!

We watched our bus, crossing our fingers that the bridge wouldn’t collapse and breathed a heavy sigh of relief once it successfully crossed.

The rest of the ride to KM 82, the start of the Inca Trail, was even crazier and it felt as if we were in some nutty movie scene.  The bus following us got stuck in a mud patch and then out went the porters who had to push and pull the old bus out to drier land.  The scene was hysterical.  The trials and tribulations of traveling in a third world country, huh.  And, Phew….another relief! 

We thought we were saved yet then came another bridge and another.  At this point, the road was hardly visible and we drove right next to the edge of a twenty foot drop into the river with only a foot on each side of the bus to spare.  What a way to go! I thought, anxious but trying to see the comedy in the situation.  Meanwhile a foreign woman started to scream “Let me off!” in her broken English.

Of course the road was a one-way and inevitably another bus was to come, which it did, causing us to back-up for ten minutes straight.  Everyone on the bus was quiet and had white knuckles by the time we reached KM 82, feeling relieved to get off this piece of sh*t.  The trip could only get better, we hoped.

Photo above of me, feeling sick to my stomach but relieved to be off that stinking bus and finally here, safe and sound. It was only 10 am and we had the whole day ahead of us!

My first impression of the area was one of awe and amazement.  I was struck by the absolute beauty of my surroundings and the remoteness and mystique.  The landscape was very lush and green with rugged mountains jetting up to the sky off in the distance.  If you strained your eyes further, you could see the craggy snow-capped peaks of the Andes bursting out of the clouds.  The entire place seemed surreal.  Like a fantasy-land.  No wonder the Incas chose this place to construct their sacred Machu Picchu. 

Finally a little past ten, we set off on our way trekking the famous Inca Trail which the Incas built hundreds of years ago. 

Our group included seven guests (3 Swiss, 2 Brits, plus my father and I Americans), our guide Limas, two cooks and five porters.  Apparently we lucked out with the small size of our group.  Normally there can be up to 18 trekkers which in my opinion would not be fun.  I prefer the smaller, more intimate groups when it comes to hiking.

The first part of the hike is through lush, tropical jungle and the gorgeous countryside did not disappoint.

We hiked for two hours, talking and laughing especially at the random passing of a wild pig on the trail (photo below) until we came upon a nice, grassy place for lunch.

Our cooks set up shop, making a fire and cooking us a fresh meal of homemade chicken vegetable soup and spaghetti with tomato sauce from scratch for lunch.  It was surprisingly good and everyone ate heartily while enjoying the views of the distant waterfalls.

Here are some views of our lunch spot:

With cloud cover….

With less clouds….we can almost see the snow-capped peaks sticking out in the distance.

After a delicious lunch, we packed up and were off again trekking.  The porters rushed ahead to get to our destination first so they could have our tents ready to go.  I was amazed by their speed, agility and strength, especially given that they were practically half my height!

The first day of the world-famous trek along the Inca Trail in Peru brings you to the fantastic hilltop ruins of Huillca Raccay. The Incas built this watch fort here since it offered the perfect view up and down the Urubamba Valley as well as the entrance to the Cusichaca valley, allowing them to watch for upcoming enemies and hold their turf.

At first sight, it looks intimidating, like some kind of ghost town. Yet when you close your eyes and imagine the powerful Incas living here and protecting their grounds, you get a surge of energy and excitement for the final day of the trek along the Inca Trail: The viewing of Machu Picchu, the most incredible Incan ruins in the world.

A closer look….

We continued on along the Inca trail rambling away with our new friends and learning about everyone’s unique life.  This is one of my favorite things about trekking.   The people you meet.

It felt surreal to be hiking along the very same trail the Incas made hundreds of years ago from scratch.  How on earth did they do it?  And how did they find this place?  The questions added to the mystery of the place and its aura. 

The sun slowly began to disappear behind the mountains.  We were surely approaching our campground for the first night.

Finally, after about 7.5 miles/12 km we set eyes on our first campsite for the night, an old rundown farm near a village called Wayllabamba.  Although the hiking wasn’t the least bit hard, we were all exhausted from the early rise and chaotic start to our day on the bus.

The porters got to work setting up our tents right outside this old, rustic farmhouse while the cooks set up a fire to start another home cooked meal for the group.  There was quite a ruckus that night trying to sleep through all the dogs barking and the farm animals squawking about.   We ate popcorn later and even enjoyed a Cuscuena (Peruvian beer) each, a rare treat as the porters had to carry it this far.  We sat up late talking, enjoying each others’ company and trying to believe we were in this place full of roosters, puppies, dogs and donkeys, en route to the magical Machu Picchu just as the Incas had done hundreds of years before.

Stay tuned…next post is Day 2 trekking the Inca Trail.

Unraveling Cusco: The Heart of the Inca Emprire

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We woke up day number 2 of our trip at the crack of dawn once again.  Our 6 am flight at the Lima airport required an early check-in since apparently flights in Peru are notorious for leaving early. Thankfully, I had read the guide book and knew this advance.  The plane left twenty minutes before its scheduled departure!

The flight to Cucso was only one hour which made it hard to sleep.  I was able to get a few shots out the window and thought excitedly about the journey ahead to the Andes.  I love mountains and couldn’t wait for the trek.

Cusco is known as the heart of the Incan Empire and was founded in the 13th century where the Incas ruled until their tragic defeat by the Spanish in 1532.  Located near the Urubamba Valley in the midst of the Andes mountains, it has an alarmingly high altitude to the newly acquainted tourist:  11,200 feet/3,400 m.

In 1983, it was declared a World Heritage Site by UNESCO and serves today as a major tourist destination and launching off point to the sacred Inca Trail and Machu Picchu.

As we made our descent into the Cusco airport, I was alarmed with my palms sweating full force.  Due to the high altitude and precipitous location of the town, the pilot had to do some crazy maneuvering over the 12,000-foot high mountains and at one point it felt like we would make a crash landing right into the mountains!  I was completely freaked out. Just when I thought it was over, the pilot swerved violently, making a rapid, frightening decent into the steep valley where the airport was perched at a mere 11,000 feet. I felt faint but recovered most likely once I realized that after I pinched myself, I was alive.

If you have never landed in a high altitude place, it is a strange, discomforting feeling.  Normally, you have time to adjust and acclimatize to the altitude of a place. For example, if you are driving out west in the United States to the Colorado Rockies, you slowly ascent and get used to the altitude.  But this is not the case in the height of the Andes Mountains!  I felt the 11,000 or so feet instantly after exiting the plane. My young, twenty-eight-year-old body felt winded and breathless.

Thankfully, a driver and representative from our tour company, Andean Life, was there at the airport to meet and greet us. He went by the name of Timothy and most likely reached my armpits (the indigenous people of Peru are quite short, especially compared to a tall American woman).  We were once again welcomed by a live Peruvian band which woke us up out of our stupor.  Timothy lead us to the modest car, and loaded our luggage in the trunk.  I sighed with relief knowing that everything was safe and got in the back seat of the small car with my dad.

My first impression of Cusco was one of amazement.  It is a fascinating, old and outright grimy city in the valley of the spectacular Andes mountains. Once again, the poverty of the place was instantly noticeable, much more so than in Lima.  Being in central Cusco felt like stepping back one hundred years in time.

The houses were very old and dirty. The roads were bumpy and awash with scum. There were no signs of luxury except for the majestic cathedral which was probably THE most impressive cathedral I’d ever laid eyes on (this is a big statement given the fact that I’ve spent years traveling throughout Europe and have seen a lot of impressive cathedrals). I think what stuck with me most was the fact that the Spaniards literally tore down the Incan Empire and placed their Catholic Church right on top of it, and adorned it with the most amazing, impressive Silver and Gold-encrusted altars that I’ve ever seen. This kind of beauty and wealth juxtaposed to such poverty seemed to me like an outright crime.

Timothy brought us directly to our hotel a lovely authentic place called El Balcon located in the heart of the Incan Empire, Cusco.  Here is a picture of my dad carrying his “luggage” (we were requested to pack everything for our trek in a duffel bag) outside of the hotel, El Balcon (or “the Balcony”).

Photo of the street leading from the main square to our hotel.

We were warmly welcomed by the owner of our hotel, a Quechua woman who spoke no english or spanish whatsoever.  We gingerly climbed the one flight of stairs, stopping to catch our breath at every step and came upon this view of the rooftops and the courtyard garden below from the large balcony spanning the width of the hotel.

Our room was spartan but clean and served its purpose for the night.  We would be guaranteed a good nights sleep in this peaceful place yet were to be rudely awakened the next day at 4 am to start our travel to the start of the Inca Trail.

The balcony was gorgeous and intricately carved reminding me somewhat of the gorgeous balconies we saw in Lima but on a more casual construction.  We were offered some coca-leaf tea, a common drink in the high Andes, which is supposed to relieve altitude sickness.  The tea tasted remarkably good.  Yes, the coca leaves are derived from the coca tree, the same plant as cocaine.  However, there is less than 0.4% trace in the tea and it is a common drink in the high altitude Andes countries.  (No, I didn’t get a high from it but it did reduce my headache slightly).

I was fascinated by the beautiful red rooftops and couldn’t get enough pictures of them.  I also loved the dramatic mountains in the background which offered a promise of the beauty that was to come.

The city of Cusco with a shot of the main square and cathedral in the background.  Hard to believe that this village was once the stronghold of the great Incan Empire that now ceases to exist.

After a brief rest and more coca tea, we decided it was time to explore the town.  Timothy would be our guide for the afternoon.  But first we were going to walk around a bit and grab some lunch. Here is a photo of me (mind you, ten years younger) holding the map to this mysterious city.

We ate lunch in the building on the right, outside on an old bright blue, wooden balcony.  We lavished in a delicious red beet salad and delightful pizza, a bit surprised by the level of international cuisine in a town that seemed so impoverished.  The beggars seemed to be missing a bit from Cusco.  Perhaps we were just in the wrong part of town.

After lunch we met up with Timothy, our guide for the afternoon, and headed to the main square, Plaza des Armes (aren’t they all called that in Latin countries!).  Below is a picture of the main cathedral, the Cathedral of Santo Domingo that was one of the most impressive piece of architecture I’ve ever seen.  Inside, there are two dramatic altars, each one at least 100 feet hight, soaring to the sky, and one of the altars is completely embossed in silver (an amazing sight).  The cathedral was built in 1654 taking almost one hundred years to complete, and was literally built smack on top fo the remains of Corichancha, an Incan temple torn down by Spanish colonists.

This picture below is of another, smaller catholic church in the Plaza des Armes, the Iglesia de la Compania de Jesus, a rival church to the cathedral.

Larger picture of the Plaza des Armes.

It was amazing to be in a place with so much history and so much tragedy.  I reflected a bit on the defeat of the great Incan Empire and the spread of christianity throughout South America.  It felt so unjust.

After our tour of central Cusco, we headed to another part of town, where the only remaining Incan ruins still stood.  These ruins are called Sacsayhuaman (which made me laugh as the guide pretty much called them “Sexy Woman”).  The walled complex located on the northern outskirts of Cusco are a rare find.  Like many other constructions made by the Incas, Sacsayhuaman is made without mortar.  Each boulder was carefully cut, polished and fit together as seen in this picture below.  An amazing feat of architecture!

To demonstrate the size of these stones…here is my silly dad.  There is much debate among scholars how the Incas moved and worked these stones to complete this amazing structure.

After our tour of the ruins, we headed back to our van.  I couldn’t help but notice a local shepherd in the distance, herding his sheep and working the old-fashioned way.

The view of Cusco from Sacsayhuaman is absolutely stunning.  The old Inca Empire in all her glory.

As we approached our awaiting van, of course there was a market located directly across from the parking lot.  The locals were selling all sorts of Peruvian goods such as handicrafts and blankets for next to nothing.

Then there were the local children offering you a “Kodak moment” for a buck.  Although I felt guilty encouraging child labor, I couldn’t resist taking the shot.  The only one smiling is the laughing llama.

Then I got the whole family in traditional dress.  Cost?  Priceless.

We climbed back the meager flight of stairs, breathless and exhausted beyond belief by the last two days of travel and adventure.   I climbed into my thin cot, pulled over the wool covers and was out as a light as soon as my head hit the pillow.  For tomorrow was going to be yet another day of extreme adventure and fatigue.  But I was ready…

Stay tuned….next post documents Day 1 trekking the world-famous Inca Trail.

“Lovely” Lima

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We woke up early, feeling like a disgruntled employee.  We hadn’t slept a wink after our “rough entry” (see preceding post) into Peru.  Yet, on the bright side, we had the entire day ahead of us to explore Lovely Lima, my first visit to a South American capital.

Lima is the capital and largest city in Peru.  It has approximately 9 million residents in the metro area, making Lima the fifth largest city in Latin America (after Mexico City, Sao Paulo, Buenos Aires and Rio de Janeiro).  Like her Latin compatriots, Peru has the all to familiar history of an indigenous population taken over by Spanish Colonial rule.  On January 18, 1535 “la Ciudad de los Reyes” or the “City of Kings” was founded by Francisco Pizarro, a Spanish conquistador, who earlier defeated the powerful Incan ruler Atahualpa and overtook his empire.  The Spanish influence can be seen everywhere—in the lovely architecture of the buildings, cathedrals, and homes, as well as the Spanish language, religion and culture.

A perfect way to see a huge city like Lima quickly is by doing hiring a driver and doing a private tour.  After our experience last night, being mugged only forty minutes after being inside the country, we felt like a private tour was an excellent choice.  Our hotel, Hotel las Americas (a five-star hotel for a mere $75/night…remember this was ten years ago, but still!), arranged an English-speaking driver and guide named Pablo for our half-day tour of the city.

Note:  These photos are incredibly grainy and poor quality.  They were taken over ten years ago with my cheap camera and had to be scanned so I could include them in the post.  Please ignore the quality and use them only as a reference! 

Above is a picture of me and our driver/guide Pablo.  We felt honored to be in one of the nicest, cleanest cars in Peru.  Yet, we were also constantly aware that we could be seen and viewed as an easy target so we opted to not carry along anything valuable.

We first headed to visit the main square in town, Plaza des Armes/Mayor and then headed over to the beautiful, famous St. Martin Square.  The Spanish colonial architecture was stunning.

Photo below of the Plaza Mayor (or Plaza de Armas):  Lima’s administrative and political center which contains the Government Palace, City Hall, Cathedral and Palace.

The Government Palace:

The Cathedral:

A walk around the Plaza revealed the gorgeous, intricate architecture from the Spaniards.  This is where we first saw the famous balconies, a major feature of Lima’s architecture during the colonial period.

Photos of the amazing, spectacularly carved balconies:

Church balconies:

The Convent of San Fancisco (XVII Century):

The gorgeous gardens outside of the convent:

A perfect view of solitude:

St. Martin Square:

My black shoes were looking rather dirty and dingy as the shoe shiner pointed out.  I would normally never get a shoe shine (never have before!) yet for twenty cents, what the heck…when in Rome!

After the tour, we drove over to one of the main artists square where I purchased a lovely painting that is still hanging in my house today.  Here is a picture of the square:

The day was finished with dinner and a beer at one of the local restaurants nearby our hotel.  Our food was fine yet what wasn’t fine was the beggar woman walking directly outside our window nestling a baby in her arms and nursing, while her hand was out asking for money.  Of course, I felt completely awful to see this kind of poverty while we were inside drinking wine and eating a fine meal.  However, the restaurant owner was not the least bit sorry about the situation and instead he was furious.  Apparently, the woman was poor yet using the baby (who was most likely a borrowed one) to get more money!  This is a common trick found in Peru and the owner had seen her before.  He shooed her away before we could reach into our pockets and give her money but it still let an unpleasant feeling inside of our hearts.

Overall, my first impressions of Lima were a little bit negative.  I am sure that I was tainted by the mugging experience, however, I found Lima to be not what I had imagined it to be.  I was a little disappointed by the city because it was nowhere near as beautiful as I would have expected.  I had pictured a beautiful, romantic city yet found it to be dirty, poor and chaotic.  The architecture was stunning but it was hard to ignore the poverty, the pollution and the dirt.  (Now remember this was over ten years ago and it was my first visit to South America.  Perhaps I wasn’t using my thirdeye!  But these are just the perceptions I had written down in my journal thus I thought they were worth exploring).  We had learned during our tour that over 50% of the eight million people of Lima live in poverty (there is huge unemployment) and many live without running water.  Our guide had also said that he believes that Lima is almost 35 years behind Chile and probably 50-60 years behind the United States in terms of development.  Again, perhaps this has improved over the last ten years, but I am doubtful.  After traveling and seeing many places in the world, I’ve come to understand that poverty is real and it takes time to change things.  It also makes people desperate because they have to fight to survive.

Another thing that bothered me about Lima was the level of security which gave it a menacing feeling.  There were armed guards at every corner and armed security outside and sometimes inside every nice store (even inside the grocery store!).  This was a constant reminder that crime and theft are common as the poverty exists and surrounds you.  The desperation of the people was upsetting and startling.  Beggars were everywhere asking for hand-outs (especially street children) and you constantly had to watch your back for pickpocketers.  It was a troubling feeling that made me very uncomfortable.  Little did I know at the time, that much of the world is this way.  It is a sad reality.  Yet, I had not ventured much outside of Europe so for me, it was a very eye-opening experience.

Photo above of Lima taken from our hotel in Miraflores, the upscale district of the city.

We returned to our hotel somewhat dissatisfied about what we had seen.  Looking back, it was a good lesson and would help change my outlook on the world and reinforce my ideas that you must give back.  We are so spoiled.

Stay tuned…next post is our visit to Cusco, heart of the Incas and launching off point for the world-famous trek along the Inca Trail.

Rough entry

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Photo above taken driving in Lima, Peru – November 2001.

We left for our trip to Peru less than two months after the horrific events of September 11th. I’ll never forget that day as long as I shall live. Every American remembers where they were when the first plane struck the Twin Towers in New York. The horror that unfolded over that fateful day and the next couple of days of despair, confusion and pain will forever remain in America’s psyche.

It was hard to imagine getting back on a plane after everything that happened but I had no choice.  At the time, I traveled for a living and made two to three flights a month. Going to Peru was even a bit scarier for me as I’d never been to South America and the flight was longer.  Yet the hope of doing something great despite all the tragedy was worth it.  My father and I were going to hike the Inca Trail!  So I swallowed my fear, packed my bags and boarded the plane to Lima.

Luckily, were able to score a pair of Emergency Row exit seats giving us plenty of leg room for the flight.  After a few glasses of free (yes it was free in those days!) wine, I felt calmer and was able to relax.  Yet I couldn’t help occasionally glancing around the plane, nervously, looking for anything out of the ordinary.  It was hard to fly to a foreign country, let alone even be on a plane, after hours on end of CNN replays of the planes crashing into the Twin Towers.  The visuals from hell where impossible to erase from my mind.

We landed without incident, safely in Lima, Peru around ten o’clock at night.  I couldn’t help letting out a huge sigh of relief to be safely on the ground.  I made it!  I thought thankfully to myself.

As we exited the plane, the Lima airport welcomed us instantly to the sound of Peruvian music and culture.  A full-fledge Peruvian band was playing lively music with wooden flutes and indigenous drums as we headed to gather our luggage and enter through customs.  My heart skipped a beat.  Here I was, finally in new continent to discover!  South America here I come!

We gathered our belongings, easily passed through customs (a bit of a surprise given we just experienced 9/11 hell and getting through any security at the airport in the States required lots of patience), and exited the airport to the lurking crowds.  People were everywhere-drivers, cabbies, families and friends-all holding up big white signs with names written in big letters.  We had no one waiting for us.  This would end up being one of the biggest mistakes we’ve ever made while traveling.  (Rule #1:  ALWAYS hire a respected driver from the hotel to meet you at the airport, before entering into a foreign country).

We walked outside to the masses of chaos, and found the line for the taxis.  Before entering the cab, we made sure that we knew the going rate to the city and that the cab had a meter.  Everything seemed fine.  My dad, being a curious fellow, decided to sit up in the front so he could get a better view of our new surroundings, while I sat alone in back (Rule #2:  Never do this!).

Like most “smart” travelers I had read the US State Departments Travel Advisory and Warnings documentation (http://travel.state.gov/travel/cis_pa_tw/tw/tw_1764.html) as well as the country profile for Peru, before leaving.  I had a copy of it in my packed suitcase.  Yet unfortunately in all the excitement of the trip and the nervousness of a repeat of 9/11, I forgot.  (Rule #3:  Always read the above documentation right before you are departing or better yet, even on the flight there).

The half-hour ride from the airport to lovely Mireflores, a rich, upscale district of Lima was mostly uneventful.  It was dark and there wasn’t much to see.  I asked the driver in broken Spanish some questions here and there.  But he wasn’t really the talkative type.

We followed the main drag from the airport into quiet, peaceful Mireflores and reached a stoplight.  It was dark and there were no other cars around. I was getting excited to reach our hotel, and unwind.  Then, all of the sudden, out of nowhere….WHAM!  Glass flew everywhere, I screamed and thought I was going to die, while I saw a long, black-sleeved arm reach inside of the back of the car and grab my bag!  It happened so fast that I was speechless. 

After realizing that I was ok, my dad jumped out of the car (as I frightenly followed) just as the motor scooter pulled away with my backpack!  All we could see where two dark figures with a baseball bat and my backpack driving away.

Horrified, I burst into tears and noticed that two policeman were at our side talking to the driver quickly in Spanish.  There was nothing we could do.  It happened so quickly and then they were gone.

We arrived at our hotel, completely horrified about our experience.  I’d been inside the country for less than an hour and had already been mugged!

I called my husband at home, in tears, more so due to fear than loss of anything valuable.  I did a quick inventory of my bag and realized those thieves would be sorely disappointed for all they got was my make-up, a hairbrush, some personal medication and unfortunate for me, my beloved journal (which had all my thoughts and feelings about 9/11 written down in anguish, in English).  There was nothing of value to them whatsoever in my bag.  I’m sure it was promptly discarded into the Peruvian trash.

I couldn’t sleep a wink that night.  I was terrified by the experience.  What a rough entry!  Unfortunately that experience would taint my views on Lima and make me constantly uneasy and nervous.  Yet somehow or another, we weren’t going to let one bad experience ruin our trip.  I remembered to keep my eye on the price….the upcoming hike along the Inca Trail.  I also realized that I had learned a valuable lesson about traveling.  Never let your guard down.

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Note:  After I returned home to the US, I re-read the US Government Travel Summary for Peru and saw to my dismay and horror that what happened to me was not a random act.  It said in big letters that there have been many reported muggings and robberies along the main road from the airport to downtown Lima, and be vigilant!  To my disgust, I realized that the entire deal was most likely a set-up, that happened at the airport.  The muggers waited and watched for us, easy prey, as my father got in the front seat of the taxi and me, a stupid American victim, in the back alone.  They probably followed us the entire way, waited for the right moment (a stoplight) and bang.

The good news is at least they didn’t get anything valuable except women’s toiletries!  The bad news is it shows how desperate people are in third world countries.

P.S.  I looked up the US Government Travel Website and here is what I found.  FYI- I went to Peru over ten years ago and this warning still exists today!  It is exactly what happened to me!!!!!

 “Violent crime, including carjacking, assault, sexual assault, and armed robbery is common in Lima and other large cities. The Embassy is aware of reports of women being sexually assaulted in their place of lodging. Women  travelling alone should be especially careful to avoid situations in which they are vulnerable due to impaired judgment or isolation. Resistance to violent crime often provokes greater violence, while victims who do not resist usually do not suffer serious physical harm. “Express kidnappings,” in which criminals kidnap victims and seek to obtain funds from their bank accounts via automatic teller machines, occur frequently. Thieves often smash car windows at traffic lights to grab jewelry, purses, backpacks, or other visible items from a car. This type of assault is very common on main roads leading to Lima’s Jorge Chavez International Airport, specifically along De la Marina and Faucett Avenues and Via de Evitamiento, but it can occur anywhere in congested traffic, particularly in downtown Lima. Travelers are encouraged to put all belongings, including purses, in the trunk of a car or taxi.” (from http://travel.state.gov/travel/cis_pa_tw/cis/cis_998.html).

Obviously I made a stupid mistake and should have been more careful.  Furthermore, this kind of stuff can happen anywhere, even in Minneapolis where I live.  All I’m saying is that you just need to be cautious when traveling to another country, especially one where the population is much poorer than your own.   Lesson learned!!!!

Stay tuned…next post about “lovely” Lima. 

A Grand Old Time at the Historic Grand View Lodge

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The mystery is out. Where on earth did thirdeymom decide to go to spend her eleventh year anniversary for a family vacation? Greece, like I dreamed of going many years ago during a three-week honeymoon throughout the Greek Isles? No. Florida or California to see Disney and the gang? Absolutely not. Well, where on earth did she go then?

Here are a few hints. It did not require a plane ride (unless you fly on a float boat, which people do here!). It is in the same state that I live in, lovely Minnesota. Ok…we are getting closer now! And it was not at home in Minneapolis. So, where did we go? For our second annual family summer vacation, we chose the the good ole’ Historic Grand View Lodge in lovely Nisswa, Minnesota.

Located about 2.5 hours northwest of the Twin Cities, Nisswa is part of the Brainerd Lakes area which is loaded with lakes, cabins, resorts, golf courses, and plenty of family fun. The Grand View lodge dates back almost one hundred years (yeah, nothing compared to other parts of the world, but significant for us Americans!).

In 1916, real estate guru M.V. Baker purchased 238 lots (each a 50-foot lot) on the shore of splendid Gull Lake. He shortly after began selling the lakefront property for $10 per foot and his business grew so rapidly that in 1919 decided to build a lodge to house prospective clients. (This information I found in the Grand View Lodge history book at the lodge. It was complete with black and white photos from the early 1900s which were fascinating as well).

Baker brought in a small crew of workers to build the lodge using many of the Norway Pines that grew along the property. The lodge today remains unchanged and is an excellent example of Rustic lodge architecture. In 1980, it was chosen to be a member of the National Register of Historic places which means that no remodeling can be done that would change the true character of the building. Today, it doesn’t truly have the “Grand View” of the lake as it was intended (as it was built quite a bit back from the lake and it has all grown in with majestic pines). However, the view as you approach the lake and surrounding property is Minnesota at its finest. It is simply gorgeous!

In 1937, Baker sold the property to Reynolds Frederick Brownlee Cote otherwise known as “Brownie” by the locals. Brownie was a pioneer resorter in the area thus with his guidance and expertise, the Grand View Lodge grew into the fine Minnesotan resort that it is today.

Today the Grand View includes a large array of 1-8 bedroom cabins spread across 750 acre year-round resort on two lakes: Legendary Gull Lake (2,500 feet of shoreline) and the more secluded, nostalgic Roy Lake. The resort also offers three championship golf courses, a fabulous spa, an indoor pool and waterslide, beach front activities, boating, tubing, bike riding, kayaking, and dining. Not a bad place for a family vacation!

Well, it isn’t Greece that is for sure. Yet, given the fact we are traveling with two young children ages 4 and 6, who require a lot of attention, wake up at the crack of dawn and need to eat exactly at five, the Grand View Lodge turned out to be a Grand Ole vacation!

Here are some pictures of our trip, starting with some photos of the Historic Grand View Lodge, the beloved Chocolate Ox ice cream and candy shop, the lakefront, the beach, the pool, the nature (photo of the Minnesota State Bird, the Loon and her baby), our little red cabin at Roy Lake and best of all, the serene sunsets! Hope you enjoy!

The majestic Grand View Lodge, basking in the sun:

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Growing up Minnesotan

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A slice of 1970s Americana: Family trip to the North Shore, Lake Superior circa 1975

Minnesota, known as the “Land of 10,000 Lakes” is the most northern state in the US aside from Alaska. The twelth largest state in size, it is located in the heart of the Upper Midwest bordering Canada, Wisconsin, North Dakota, South Dakota and Iowa, and has a population of a little over five million people.

The word Minnesota comes from the Dakota Indians who inhabited this part of the country along with other Native American groups, and means “sky-tinted water”. The stem, “mini” or “minne” means water, and is used as part of many other Minnesota places such as Minneapolis (City of Lakes), Minnehaha Falls (Waterfall), and Minnetonka (Big Lake).

Minnesota has a long geological history and contains some of the oldest rocks found on earth known as the gneisses dating back to 3.6 billion years ago. Volcanic activity swept across the lands dramatically effecting the landscape, however, the real significant impact on the Land of 10,000 Lakes was the ice sheets and glaciations 12,000 years ago that formed and carved out the rivers, lakes and valleys that make Minnesota so beautiful and serene.

Minnesota is awash with nature and beauty, having over seventy state parks, large forests (birch, pines, spruce, poplar) and prairies, almost 13,000 lakes (including one of the Great Lakes, Lake Superior) and many rivers (the Mississippi River actually starts in Minnesota). The lakes and gorgeous lands create the perfect habitat for elk, caribou, moose, black bear, timber wolves, bob cats, linx, bald eagles, owls, hawks, loons, ducks and beavers.

Probably what Minnesota is most known for is it’s notoriously cold, long and brutal winter. Yet, what most people who are not from here do not know is that it is the land of extremes. The summers can be hot, sticky and reach a sizzling 100 degrees F while the winters can bear down to 20 below zero plus an additional 10-20 below wind chill. Yet, despite the weather, Minnesotans are quite active and run outdoors year-round.

The winters offer plenty of outdoor activities to embrace winter and enjoy the snow (82 inches of snow last year!) such as ice-skating, downhill skiing, cross-country skiing, snowmobiling, sledding, and snowshoeing.

Summer in Minnesota is fabulous and quite frankly, there is no other place I’d rather be than hanging out at one of the 10,000 plus lakes, breathing in the fresh, clear air and watching the sun set well past ten.

Fall is awash in beauty as the leaves turn their magical tapestry of colors into brilliant hues of scarlet reds, burnt oranges, golds and yellows. The September days are cool and perfect as the sun heats the majestic bright blue sky up to a perfect 70 degrees F. The falling leaves trickle down in the breeze and it is incredibly serene.

Growing up Minnesotan meant a lot of things to me. Summers swimming in the lakes, biking, playing outside until well past ten and eating popsicles, popcorn and brats on the grill. Fall meant our family trips to the North Shore of Lake Superior to see the incredible fall colors in all their glory. Winter meant ski lessons every Saturday in frigid temps, building snow forts and making snow angles. Spring meant rebirth and survival as everyone came out of their hibernation from yet another long cold winter.

<em>How do we do it? you may wonder. Why do we do it? Others say. Because we love it! You must embrace it for all its worth or else it’s time to move!

Here are some oldies but goodies, pictures from my childhood.

Loading up the good old family-mobile, our wood-paneled station wagon, for one of our many road trips:

Our first trip to Brainerd, the Chain of Lakes, circa 1975:

Getting down and dirty at the Blue Lagoon

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A visit to the world-famous Blue Lagoon is something that cannot be missed when visiting Iceland. Located only 8 miles/22 km from the Keflavik Airport and 24 miles/47 km from downtown Reykjavik, the Blue Lagoon is a perfect way to spend your first jet-lagged hours in Iceland or a fantastic send-off before boarding your flight back home.

We opted to go to the Blue Lagoon at the end of our week- long hiking vacation in Iceland, and the geothermal spa’s hot, mineral rich waters were the perfect treatment for my aching body and my enlightened soul.

The Blue Lagoon is quite a unique place. Located in the middle of an enormous lava field in the Reykjanes Peninsula in Southwestern Iceland, you would think at first you were visiting some kind of freak of nature. The drive to the spa itself makes you feel like you’re on the moon. Fallen black lava dots the rugged, barren landscape and you truly feel that you are out of this world.

The spa itself is actually man-made yet the waters, the heating process and the minerals are all natural. Believe it or not, the lagoon is fed by the water output of a nearby geothermal power plant! The seawater originates about 6,500 feet beneath the ground where it is heated by lovely Mother Nature and then cools a bit as it is pushed upwards to the lagoon.

The water’s temperatures at the Blue Lagoon are a perfect 98-102 degrees F/37-39 degrees C, and the six million liters of geothermal seawaters are renewed every two days.

Inside the Lagoon, is a fancy spa, a restaurant, and a showering area where you must shower completely nude before entering the lagoon. Icelanders take hygenine very seriously!

The Lagoon itself is enormous and bathing in it is quite an invigorating experience that is unique to Iceland. The hot waters are magical and the steam rises off the lagoon giving the place an eerie, mystical appearance. There are two bars inside where of course you can get drinks (probably not the best thing to do when you are getting so dehydrated but “when in Rome”). There is also a pile of mineral-rich mud that you can apply liberally to your face, arms, and wherever else you’d like. You let the mud dry and form into a nice facial mask before washing it off. It is quite a sight to see hundreds of people, bathing together and covered in mud. But that all leads to the fun and the experience of the Blue Lagoon.

When I was finished with my visit, my body felt like butter and I was as relaxed and happy as a clam, all ready to board my 5.5 hour flight back to Minneapolis.

All in all, my trip to Iceland was one to remember. It was by far one of the most beautiful, peaceful and unique places I’ve ever traveled to and am looking forward to someday going back. There is so much more to explore!

For more picture, information and a visual tour of the Blue Lagoon please visit their website at: http://www.bluelagoon.com

Here are some photos from my visit:

Leaving Reykjavik and heading to the infamous Blue Lagoon

Driving on the moon! The entrance to the parking lot of the Blue Lagoon:

 

 

 

Stay tuned…thirdeyemom is on vacation and it is a mystery location that I am certain will be interesting all the same. Secret hint is that it is not that far from my home!

Entranced in Iceland: A visit to the remote Skaftafell National Park: Part II The Hike

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Enrapture me dear God

Captivate my soul

For thy am not worthy

For not believing in you so.

Enrapture me nature

Captivate my soul

For your beauty is eternal

And I will always love you so.

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We woke up to the sun casting her glorious light through the thin wool shades draping over the windows.   My heart smiled.  It was sunny!  Although I was tired from the long drive and late night meal, I could hardly wait to get up and put on my dirty hiking shoes and clothes.  It was going to be a grand day.  I could tell.

I jumped out of bed, walked over to the shade and pulled it gently aside.  It was picture perfect.  Not a cloud in the sky and the sun was beaming brilliantly across the verdant green hills.  I knew that this was going to be a day to remember.   One of those quintessential postcard-perfect days of hiking in Iceland.

Rise and Shine…what a perfect morning for a hike!  Picture below of the view outside our hotel window.

Setting off…

There are two options for lodging:  Either staying at the Hotel Skaftafell or camping (unless of course you want to sleep in your car!)

The vast sand deltas called sandars off in the distance remind you how remote you truly are.

The vast tongue of the ice cap appears to jet out from the sky.

It is barren, vast, remote yet so alive.  It feels like life and death are dancing together in perfect harmony.

The start of the hike is easy.  In fact, there is not much elevation gain.  Just walking and making sure you keep your eyes on the trail which is hard to do when you are completely awestruck by such incredible beauty.

The clouds roll in yet it doesn’t seem to dampen the beauty of this place.  In fact, perhaps the clouds even make it more magical and surreal.

The green rolling hills are lush and alive.

As we get higher you can see the meandering rivers created by the melting glaciers.

We keep hiking up through the fields of joy, having no idea what an incredible view is awaiting on top.

As we climb higher, we realize how truly out there this place is.  We are officially Lost in Iceland.  There is nothing but dead sandors for miles and serpentine rivers making their mark across the land as they have done for thousands of years.

As we approach the top of the overlook, we are anxious about what is to come.  Below we see the earth-colored remains from the terminus of the glacier.

We reach our destination and are completely in awe and disbelief.  The beauty of this place is breathtaking.  It is like no place on earth.

We spend a few moments here, awestruck and euphoric.  This is why we hike.  To  go down that road less traveled.  To see the things that make everything that is bad in the world seem good.  To see God’s creation in all its glory.

We wish we could stay here all day but unfortunately it is time to go.  Despite my desire to sit here and embrace this vast landscape until it is forever engrained in my mind, we must leave and finish our hike.

The hike continues in a loop around the monstrous terminus of the ice cap.  We walk up another brilliant, green landscape wondering what awesome view we will find next.

When we round the corner, we can tell we are in for a wonderful surprise.  The rolling hills stop as did the other hikers.  And, there it was, a massive, frozen mass of a glacier that shone in the sunlight like a gleaming, sparkling diamond of ice.

Next to the late summer greenery, it was absolutely stunning.

The remains of powder-puff flowers blow gently in the wind, reminding me of the wildness of this place.

It is hard to fathom that this is just one of many glacial tongues flowing off the mighty Vatnajokull ice cap.

The last view of a hike of a lifetime….from a trip that I will never forget!

Stay tuned…next post will be about my last day in Iceland and a visit to the Blue Lagoon!

Entranced in Iceland: A visit to the remote Skaftafell National Park: Part I The Arrival

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After a day of driving filled with natural wonders, I couldn’t wait to finally reach remote Skaftafell National Park.  Europe’s largest and perhaps grandest national park is a hiker’s delight filled with awe-inspiring glacial tongues, waterfalls, twisted birch trees, verdant grass, and the crème de la crème, the aquamarine Vatnajökull at it’s glory.

As you get further along in the drive, there is nothing but glaciers and the haunting dead, black sand deltas known as sandars juxtaposed against the brilliant green-covered hills and plains.  It is quite a sight to see!  Life against death could never be so sensationally beautiful. 

We pull into our lonely hotel, Hotel Skaftafell (the ONLY hotel for hours) close to dinner time.  The undistinguished hotel has 63 small, clean rooms.  There is nothing luxurious about this place.  However, unless you want to camp, it is the only option.

Here is a photo of Hotel Skaftafell which in my opinion looks a little more like a military base than a hotel.

A glimpse of the hotel from above.  Note there is nothing in the horizon except the sandars, the brownish, gray or sometimes black sand deltas.

Looking the other direction outside of our hotel room is a lovely view of what awaits….

As you walk a bit further behind the hotel, you are suddenly and surprisingly encountered by Svinafellsjokull, another gigantic glacier lurking off the immense ice cap:

Looking back again on the hotel, you can see and feel the remoteness of the place.  Lost in Iceland, is anybody out there?

After a fine dinner (nothing fancy, but wholesome good food and of course at a price, given our remoteness), we head out again for a short hike beyond the hotel.  For some reason, I love this picture of my dad walking off into the distance.  It is mysterious, magical and intimidating all at the same time.   Also, it is about 10:30 pm….and it is still light!

And this is what we find…..

The sun slowly dips behind the clouds and it is almost bedtime.  We have a big day ahead of us of hiking and exploring this unbelievable land.  I can hardly wait!

Goodnight glacier…we will see you tomorrow!

Stay tuned….next post will show the outrageously spectacular photos of our day hike in Skaftafell National Park.  A hike of a lifetime!

Driving in search of glaciers in southeastern Iceland

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Nothing prepared me for the drive along the Ring Road from Vik to Jökulsárlón.  Located at the southeastern tip of Iceland following the immense Vatnajökull, the largest ice cap outside of the poles, is a drive of some of the most spectacular glacial scenery on earth. 

At each slightly bending turn, one is rewarded with an enormous frozen valley of ice jetting off from the ice cap down into the black, hardened lava fields and dead gray sand.   It is such an impressive sight that the drive took us double the amount of time to account for each and every stop along the way to take photos of these mammoth glaciers.  The glacial tongues seemed to be everywhere and go as far as the eye could see.    I continually had to pinch myself to see if I was really here in such an unbelievable place, in a world that is still in the process of being created.

Following are some pictures from along the way…

Sometimes pictures speak louder than words. 

After leaving Vik, we soon encountered our first glacier off in the distance.  Initially we thought it was a cloud.  As we moved closer, we realized to our delight it was an enormous glacier sliding down off the mighty Vatnajökull ice cap.  Covering area of 8,100 km², the ice cap represents 8% of the total area of Iceland!  It is absolutely enormous and is loaded with frozen glacial rivers, lakes, and volcanoes.

A closer view of our “first” (of many) glaciers:

Driving along the Ring Road is a bit scary at points.  You are constantly awestruck and enthralled by the sightings of so many glaciers that it is hard to keep your eyes on the road.  Yet, you must pay attention!  One-lane bridges like this one pictured below tend to sneak up on you fast.

The eerie landscape reminds you that you are in one of the world’s newest countries.  Iceland is constantly forming and evolving every day.

Suddenly, we turn the corner and WOW!!!! We are shocked to see not one, not two, but four glaciers off in distance like clouds tumbling down a hill.   I have never seen anything like this before.

Somehow or another, we are able to remain on the road (though it is really difficult to concentrate on driving!) and head off in the distance, in search of the glaciers.

Rivers are common in this part of Iceland.  As the glaciers melt and flow down off the ice cap, rivers form bringing in glacial gray sand, rock and dirt.  The sun tries to peek out from under the clouds, uncovering just the tip of the ice cap that goes beyond one’s imagination.

Another long, one-lane bridge brings us closer to our destination.  This time we see a car!  But thankfully they saw us too and waited on the other side until we passed safely.

At times the clouds are so dark and threatening that we are certain it will rain.  But only a few drops trickle out.  The heavens are not quite ready to release a downpour.

Then it suddenly and magically clears up, letting the sun cast a brilliant sparkling glow across the ice.

When we finally reach the parking lot of Jökulsárlón, the clouds dispersed, releasing the jubilant, glorious sun.  Judging by what we had seen along the way, we knew we were in for a real treat.

As we walked up the dark mass of sand and rock, we had no idea whatsoever what awaited us behind those gray walls:

My heart raced in excitement and anticipation.  I had never seen pictures of Jökulsárlón.  All I knew was that glacial lagoon of Jökulsárlón was supposed to be a photographer’s paradise.    I had heard about the brilliant diamond blue icebergs that floated gracefully across the lagoon.  But nothing prepared me for my first sight of this slice of heaven.

Off in the distance as far as the eye could see, the glacier tumbled down off the ice cap and into the aquamarine lagoon, leaving icebergs the size of buildings drifting slowly and peacefully across the water.

The magical sculptured icebergs bewitched my soul.  They glistened like diamonds in the brilliant sun.

I’m not really a religious person.  But if there is a God, he must have cast a spell on Iceland:  There is no place quite like this on earth.

Stay tuned….next post will continue to follow my adventure with a stop-over in surreal Skaftafell Park.  About as far out there and “lost in Iceland” as you can get.

Attack of the puffins

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At the southern tip of mainland Iceland, only a few short hours drive from Reykjavik, we reach our destination:  The lovely, quaint coastal village of Vik.  The sparsely populated town (there are roughly 350 hearty souls who live there) is a beautiful place surrounded by long black sand beaches, lush green mountains, sharp sea cliffs and the trademark which this place is most known for:  Reynisdrangar, a row of pointed basalt sea stacks that legend holds were created by trolls who turned to stone at sunrise.

We planned to make a short stop in Vik to do a well-known hike along the Reynisfjall cliffs, known as one of the most spectacular short hikes in southern Iceland.  We were looking forward to getting out of the car and stretching our legs.  A hike would be the perfect way to experience the beauty of this unearthly land.

As we pull into Vik, the surroundings were mystical.  We could feel the magical effects of Icelandic folklore run through our veins:

 

As we descended into town, we got our first glimpse of the gorgeous black sand beaches which stretch as far as the eye can see.

There is not much at all to the town except a few houses, perhaps one or two small hotels and a couple of restaurants.

It is as isolated as we have been so far in Iceland.  Really in the middle of nowhere.  I wondered what it would be like to live somewhere like Vik.

The countryside is so lush and green.  The Icelandic horses are in their element and have plenty to eat.

The start of the hike was a bit steep.  We couldn’t find the trailhead so we had to improvise by going straight up, using our hands and fingers for support.

We pass a few horses close up but they don’t even seem to even notice our presence.

Finally, we found the trail.  You can actually drive your car up here as well but in my book, that is cheating.  The best way to reach a spectacular view is by foot!

On a sunny day, you are able to see glaciers off in the distance.  All we saw were the green foothills of the mountains since the peaks were blanketed in clouds.

The trademark of Vik, Reynisdrangar, a row of spiky basalt sea stacks which have long been used as a landmark and navigational point for sailors.  The stalks raise up to 217 feet/66m into the air and local lore believes that they were formed when two trolls were unable to find land and turned into stone at sunrise.

Iceland is famous for its puffins and is fortunate to claim ownership of breeding over half the world’s population of Atlantic Puffin’s in her lush, fertile lands.  The total population of puffins in Iceland has been estimated between 8 and 10 million birds.  That’s a lot of puffins!

Puffins are both beautiful and fun to watch…unless of course, you are getting attacked!  Unbeknownst to us, the lovely cliffs we were hiking on were also the mating and nesting area for these fine, lovely birds.  Nothing in the guidebook told us that one of southeast Iceland’s most beloved, worthy hikes was going through the nesting grounds!  I felt terrible!  But what was worse was the actual attack of the birds!

We had reached the top of the hike, a plateau, which afforded a splendid view of the ocean.  As we were taking in the awesome scenery, all of the sudden, out of nowhere a bird began swarming and scooping down at us at ungodly close levels.  I thought perhaps it was a bird gone mad.  But then another came, and another and soon we had to make a run for it, covering our heads.  It was actually a little awful.  Of course we didn’t want to hurt their nests (nor did we want to lose our heads!)  So we ran swiftly and as quickly as would could off the plateau, and headed back down towards our car, feeling a little bit shaken up by the whole experience.  An attack by puffins was not at all what I had expected.  But then again, nothing ever seems to go as planned when you are traveling in another country.

This picture below is right before the surprise attack!  Little did I know what was awaiting!

The stunning view at the top of the hike was worth it.

Happy to be down, away from the flying attacks!

 

Views like this are priceless.  To see such beauty in the world, lifts my spirits with joy. 

 

We ended our hike within two hours, climbed back in the car and set off for our next adventure.  I was looking forward to the remainder of the drive through southern Iceland.  I was fully aware that we would soon be hitting glacier after glacier and seeing some of the most inspiring beauty in all of Iceland.  I could hardly wait!

 

Stay tuned….next post will cover the glacier-filled drive to Skaftafell National Park and a stop at the iceberg-filled aquamarine lake, Jokulsarlon, probably one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been in my life!

Taking off: Getting a Remarkable View of the Remarkables

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I don’t normally want to “double post” but I couldn’t help sharing my latest postcard from thethirdeyeworld on my blog.  Hope you enjoy!  To see more postcards, please go to www.thethirdeyeworld.com

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Greetings from Queenstown, New Zealand….wish you were here!

Photo taken in November 2001 in Queenstown, New Zealand.

I made him go first.   I had to.  I was so nervous, scared out of my mind and anxious about actually going through with this ride that I thought I’d make my loving, wonderful husband of one year take the first jump off the mountain.  All I could think of was how the booking agent told us that the other day there had been “a wee bit of drama”.  An accident occurred in which a woman and her “driver” fell a couple hundred feet and didn’t take off.  Instead of landing safely on the bottom, they wound up in the hospital with lots of broken bones.  But amazingly enough, they were ok.

I watched him and the driver run, and gracefully take off the edge of the mountain soaring like a bird through the stunning blue sky.  It looked crazy.  I still had time to change my mind.

Twenty minutes later they arrived back on top of the hill.  My husband wore a big, satisfied smile across his gentle face.  “How was it” I asked, terrified.  “Oh, it was awe-some!” he replied easily.  “Was it scary”? I asked skeptically.  “Not at all.  In fact, it was quite relaxing.  You’ll love it!” he replied encouragingly.

Ok.  I’m doing it, I decided confidently.  I got hooked up to all the protective gear next to Steve, our Canadian hang-gliding driver and off we went.  “Run, Run, Run” Steve hollered.  Clumsily, we ran as fast as we could and magically the giant wings of the hang-glider began to take off and up, up, up we went.

I screamed bloody murder, at the top of my lungs!  What in God’s name was my husband talking about?!  This was anything but relaxing!!!! It was the must frightening, exhilarating feeling I’ve ever experienced in my entire life.  I screamed for at least the next ten minutes until I finally was able to relax and realize that I wasn’t go to die.  Instead, I giggled and laughed at the realization that I was flying like a bird, taking in all the remarkable beauty of Queenstown and the towering Remarkables in the background.  The hang-glider had a camera tied to the wing and the pictures of my ride were priceless.

As we safely landed, circling like an airplane, I breathed a big sigh of relief and threw my arms in the air in triumph.  Steve informed me that I was the most enjoyable, fun passenger he has ever had.  I’m sure my screams and giggles were rather hysterical.  I was hysterical.  I’m glad I did it, but I wouldn’t do it again!  The things we do when we are young and free. As they always say:  CARPE DIEM!  Seize the day.

Written by thirdeyemom.