— 1 Comment

Searching for Body Lotion in a Moroccan Medina

The flight to Rabat was uneventful except for all the crying babies who kept me awake. I was really looking forward to sleeping the entire way yet it wasn’t in the cards.

As we made our approach, I looked out the window longingly at the beautiful countryside and array of colors. There were greens, earth tones, yellows and the brilliant blue sea. It was gorgeous. The landscape was such a contrast to brown, barren Minnesota! It was like eye candy and I gobbled it up.

We landed safely and I was relieved to finally be here in Africa after such a long journey. For some reason, I didn’t have much luck with customs and was questioned for at least ten minutes about what I was going to be doing in Morocco. It was becoming a pattern. I was stopped in Minneapolis and had the pat down due to an oversize tube of toothpaste, my beloved face lotion was seized at the Paris airport and now I was being grilled over and over again about my volunteer work in Morocco. I think he must have been simply messing with me. I looked tired and was easy bait.

My “chauffeur” met me outside the arrivals gate and we headed to his old white Mercedes car where I practically collapsed into the seat. It was very warm and I was sweltering. Probably due to my Nordic blood.

I was thankful to know French. Yes, it has been eighteen years since I lived in France but suddenly and magically it all came back and it was pouring out. My driver, Mohammed, was full of information and facts about Morocco. I wasn’t in the mood to chat but it helped me stay awake and everything he had to say was of course very interesting.

We arrived at the hotel in less than thirty minutes. I was staying at a Riad, or private historical mansion, in the center of Rabat. The windy, whitewashed walls of the medina were like a maze that somehow lead to the green sign stating RIAD DAR KERIFA. Atlas, we arrived!

Here is a photo of the entrance of the hotel:

The inside of the hotel was like a hidden treasure. One would never know from the outside that there was a gorgeous mansion inside! I was instantly impressed. Here are some pictures of the inside of the raid:

The architecture and furnishings were all traditional Moroccan:

Even the light fixtures were spectacular:

I unpacked my stuff and took a quick shower. There is something about being on a plane and traveling for hours that just makes you feel disgusting. The shower felt fabulous and gave me that much needed second wind and energy to go on my next quest: In search of body lotion in the Moroccan Medina.

I left the hotel and immediately got lost. There were many Moroccans in their traditional attire, the jellaba (hooded robe) and caftans (decorated robes):

The old medina was amazing, like nothing I’d ever experienced. It felt like being in some kind of crazy maze full of endless twists and turns against whitewashed ancient buildings. I somehow managed to find the “souq” or the market. I looked around and realized that I was the only foreigner in sight. But I didn’t feel uncomfortable at all. Nothing like what I experienced in India. Thus I was able to fully take in the unbelievably overwhelming experience of searching for American Body Lotion in a Moroccan Medina. Ok, I’m at a souq which is an enormous open air market where they sell pretty much everything but the kitchen sink. No big deal, huh? It would be no problem at all to find the lotion and head back to my peaceful, relaxing hotel for a glass of wine. Right! I should have known better! I was in a foreign country, North Africa, to say the least! My mission to find some lotion was absolute madness.

I saw EVERYTHING that is for sure. I saw turtles for sale, ladies underwear fancily displayed (hilarious given I am in a Muslim country), fruit stands packed with dates, olives and figs, jean shops, electronic shops and stuff I couldn’t even guess what it was. It was the most crazy place I’ve ever been. There was shouting, there was chanting, there was clapping….there was absolutely every sales tactic employed to get a sale. It was the most incredible market I’d ever seen! Yet, the lotion was no where to be found.

After two and a half hours of searching frantically, I finally gave in to the pressure of getting a little help. A nice Moroccan man asked if I need his assistance. Yes, this is a no no for sure. I knew he’d probably want money but I was so utterly exhausted and I was lost. He walked me to a place where I purchased some crazy “milk lotion” and then showed me my way back to the riad. He was a friendly guy yet was missing several bottom teeth so I was a little weary but quite frankly too tired to deal with the situation. Finally when I found the way out of the medina and said my farewell, he surprisingly walked away, of course after a request for a small donation, which I gently refused. I was angry with myself for accepting some help but then again, at least I found my lotion!

In the coming week, I know that I’ll definitely be back for more experiences in the souq. Hopefully this time I won’t be so tired and weary! It a place that one could spend hours in. A place of wonder that makes me remember why I travel and see the world.

Here are some of my favorite pictures of the market:
Ok, this first one was the beginning where I freaked out because everything looked like it came from a garage sale. But trust me, it got much better:

Now we are talking:

Pet turtles for sale (they bring good luck in Morocco!):

Now the beautiful, fresh dried fruits, olives and figs:

More wonderful things:

Moroccan beauty supplies (for making homemade facials):

Anything is possible to buy (except lotion!)

I returned to the hotel, beyond exhausted, and headed up to the lovely terrace affording a gorgeous sunset view of Rabat. I had a glass of red french wine (which I grabbed from the Air France flight) and listened to the call for prayer from the nearby mosque. This is quite a country!

<a
href=”http://thirdeyemom.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/04/20110416-021431.jpg”&gt;

Morocco TRAVEL BY REGION
— 4 Comments

I’ll Always Have Paris

The flight to Paris was uneventful. I was jam packed like a sardine in a tin can yet somehow I was able to relax and manage to get a couple hours of sleep (thanks to my over the counter sleeping pill). Thus the flight passed by quickly and before I knew it we were making our final descent into Charles de Gualle airpot. I checked my physical status and was happy that I didn’t feel completely miserable like I normally due with so little sleep. It was six am in Paris and eleven pm at home. But like any smart traveler, I had already changed my watch to local time and tried to erase the old Minnesota time out of my head. That is the only way you can survive jet lag. To forget it!

As we were descending, I rechecked my itinerary and was surprised to discover that my next flight to Rabat was not leaving for six hours! I had originally thought my layover was only four hours so I was delightfully surprised to learn that I had six whole hours which opened the door for a little adventure: I could hop the RER train to Paris, mon amour, and take a short but sweet trip down memory lane before catching my next flight!

I know that most people would think I’m absolutely nuts for leaving the airport with no sleep for only a brief visit to Paris, but then again those who think I’m crazy don’t understand how much I adore Paris and love it with all my heart. For you see, Paris is a very special place for me. I spent part of my Junior Year of college abroad living in Paris at the ripe, perfect age of twenty-one and I’ll never ever forget what an amazing, life-changing experience it was. For me, Paris represents an amazing self-discovery and transformation in my life. It was a time of dramatic growth that probably transformed me more than anything else I’d ever done up to that point. My time spent in Paris was like a dream. The world was my oyster. Everything was in front of me.

As I walked through customs and headed out the doors of the Paris airport, my heart speed. I could not believe that I was really doing this. I was going to a see Paris again!It had been ten long years since I’d last been to Paris, and eighteen long years (scary) since I lived there. Thus despite my fear (of somehow missing my next flight) and fatigue (yes it really was two in the morning for me), the temptation and curiosity sucked me in, and before I knew it, I was out of the airport doors and headed towards that all too familiar RER train line that would lead me to back to the city of light and the city of love.

In my opinion, Paris is one of the most beautiful, fantastic and romantic cities in the world. I could spend years there and never bore of its splendor, elegance and unexpected discoveries. It is an amazing place that is always changing yet someone remains a little bit the same. The history, the architecture, the gardens, the cafes, the restaurants and the magnificent monuments, all draw in millions of tourist a year. You could spend your entire life in Paris and still not see it all. There is so much to see and explore, the options are endless. I know for a fact that I will dream about Paris as long as I will live and hope to someday spend more time there, perhaps when my husband and I are old and gray.

I easily found the RER (regional train. similar to the metro) line and purchased my billet (ticket) for 7,8 Euros (around ten bucks) and waited for the familiar looking train to approach. It looked just as I’d remember. White with red and blue, old and creaky. It amazed me how nothing had changed. In fact I’m sure the train was the same eighteen years ago.

I boarded the train, chose my spot by the window and heard the familiar buzz of the doors shutting. I was dead tired but happy all the same! In thirty five minutes I’d be in the heart of Paris, hopefully at an outdoor cafe, sipping a delicious, inviting cup of cafe au lait with hopefully a fresh pain au chocolat in my tummy.

As the Parisian landscape passed me by, the sweet memories from eighteen years ago, when I was a young, carefree twenty-one year old woman, flashed through my mind. I was stunned to think that it was almost half my life ago that I was here. How could that be possible? How could life have really gone so fast? Like the sudden passing of the scenery, my life seemed to have passed me by. It felt like an eternity ago since I lived in Paris, yet it also felt like only yesterday, all at the same time.

My heart began to beat rapidly in excitement and anticipation as the train approached my familiar haunts. Chatelet-les-Halles, Notre Dame, Luxembourg, and finally St. Michel, where I decided to get off. I took the escalator up, noticing that the metro station was just as old, dirty and decrepit as it was then, arrived up at the doors headed out to Paris. A huge smile spread across my face as I opened the door and walked out onto the street. I was at the Notre Dame and Hotel du Ville, two beloved, famous Parisian landmarks that are in the center of the escargot (what they call Paris, as it is shaped like an escargot). I took one step out and stopped, marveling at my beloved Paris, in all her glory.

Was it worth the trip? (I only had an hour to have a quick cafe, take some photos and soak it all it). Indeed! As I love to say, Paris, je t’aime! I will always have Paris.

Here are some shots of my beloved Paris, in the springtime:
Notre Dame:

View from Notre Dame:






Even on a dreary day, Paris is spectacular:

Ok, this is a funny, unexpected shot. I found an outdoor cafe with heaters and ordered up a delightful cafe au lait. I asked the waiter to take my picture and before I knew it, he sat right next to me, grabbed my shoulder and took this hilarious photo of the two of us! I couldn’t stop laughing. He got me!

Me, looking terribly tired but happy as a clam to be having my beloved cafe au lait with a view of the world passing by:

France TRAVEL BY REGION
— 8 Comments

Scotch on the 400-year-old Rocks

After leaving El Chalten, we boarded the sole bus headed back down Ruta 40 to El Calafate.  This time, I wasn’t shocked by the barrenness of the land, the no man’s land of guachos, guancos, condors and pumas.  I was just plain old tired.  Tired from all the hiking, and tired of all the travel.  It is amazing how truly long it takes to reach this part of the world.  Four flights, long, bumpy bus rides and then there you are in the middle of nowhere.

We arrived at the bus depot in El Calafate late at night, met our driver who swiftly escorted us to our hotel and were just in time for the ten o’clock dinner seating.  Eating so late is not my favorite.  First of all, I’m always starving by 5 or 6 pm, which is my usual dinner time (blame it on the kids!), and second of all, I find it hard to sleep on a full belly.   Yet sometimes you have no choice in the matter, especially when you are traveling in countries where eating late is the norm (such as Spain where I could hardly stay awake for the eleven o’clock dining).  Regardless, we were famished and all that remained open was our lovely hotel bar where we wondrously gobbled up an entire meal (appetizer, salad, entrée, dessert, and of course a bottle of vino tiento).

We were up at the crack of dawn again but this time it wasn’t an anticipated hike that woke us up but the crazy, noisy strange birds that screeched outside our hotel window.  Extremely curious what on earth could make such a horrendous sound, I pulled back the curtain to find these large, annoying, unusual looking birds who sounded somewhat like Canadian geese, having some kind of party outside my hotel window.  Oh well, at least it was a built in alarm clock.

Today was yet another big day.  We were off on a grand, full day excursion to see the world famous Perito Moreno Glacier, and I could hardly wait!

A visit to the Perito Moreno Glacier, located about 78 km/48 miles from El Calafate in the Los Glaciares National Park (declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1981) is one of the most spectacular and unforgettable experiences in all of Patagonia.  Known as one of the few still advancing glaciers on Earth, Perito Moreno is also one of the most unique tourist destinations in all of Argentina.  The magnificent, massive glacier measuring approximately 250 km2/97 square miles and 30 km/19 miles in length is one of 48 glaciers fed by the Southern Patagonian Ice Field  (the world’s third largest reserve of fresh water).   It’s massive size (a true beast of a glacier) is so incredibly amazing that many people are completely awe-struck and taken aback by its magnificence.    It is truly a wonder of this magnificent, unbelievable Earth.

The Perito Moreno glacier was named after the renowned Argentine explorer Francisco Moreno, a trailblazing pioneer who studied the region in the 19th century and played a major role in defending the territory of Argentina in the conflict surrounding the international border dispute with Chile. Ironically, Moreno, never even saw the incredible ice-formation that bears his name today.  What a pity!

Here are some photos of the trip to this unforgettable place (Please note:  unfortunately the photo quality is not the best and the pictures are a little grainy.  My computer was attacked by a mean virus so I had to download my pictures off my saved Shutterfly making them not as clear.  Oh well….at least this will give you an idea of its beauty.  Enjoy!)

Driving to the glacier, a two hour bus ride through nowhere land:

Approaching the Perito Moreno Glacier…world famous and one of only glaciers in world that is not receding:

First sight:

The only way to reach the glacier is via boat.  After disembarqueing the boat, the tourists walk over to a small pier where they await the arrival of the boat that will ferry them across Lago Argentino to the banks of the glacier.  Here is a picture of the pier:

Here we come…look out WIND!

First sight….wow!  Hard to capture on film how massive it is:

Perito Moreno Glacier advances into Lago Argentino separating it into two halves.  As you take the boat ride out to the terminus of the glacier, you can see this bizarre division and it appears as if there are two separate lakes, one on each side of the gigantic face of the glacier.  The pressure and movement of the glacier creates an incredible show for the spectators.  As the glacier is pushed forward into the lake by the massive Southern Patagonian Ice Field, every few minutes one can hear the thunderous roar and crash of enormous pieces of heavy ice breaking off of the glacier and smashing into the lake (this phenomenon is called “calving”) then floating away as majestic, glistening icebergs.  It is an amazing site to see, that is for sure.  The sheer mass and power of the ever-changing glacier, breaking apart into “baby” icebergs makes is somehow seem like its alive.

As you approach the glacier, you are startled at the sheer size and mass of this enormous piece of ice.  It is truly from out of this world.

The Perito Moreno Glacier is one of only three Patagonian glaciers that is growing. The reason remains debated by glaciologists.  The terminus of the Perito Moreno Glacier is 5 km/3 miles wide, with an average height of 74 m/240 ft high (above the lake) and an ice depth 170 m/558 ft.

Picture of boat docking shows magnitude of this giant mass of ice:

We were dropped off boat at the foot of the glacier for our next adventure, an ice trek:

Our guide giving us some history of glacier:

Another beautiful picture:

Glacier trekking is the most first-hand way to experience the Perito Moreno Glacier.  By trekking across the icy surface, you’ll feel the wind and cold of the grand Southern Patagonian Ice Field, hear the roar of falling ice blocks, and see beautiful vistas of Lake Argentina.  It was something I was really looking forward to doing as I’d never hiked on ice before (except on the sidewalks outside my door in Minnesota—-but that doesn’t hold a candle to this!)

Off we go headed to our hike (note the contrast in size between the people and the glacier towering above our heads):

More shots of the glacier…sorry I couldn’t stop taking photos!

Its freezing out here!  I have two jackets and two pairs of pants on and the wind off the glacier is still cutting through to my bones! (here is a photo of me and my father):

The amazing 400 year old (front part of the glacier is this age, back is much older) up close.  Note the brilliant deep blue colors in the ice.:

Going overboard on photos but I couldn’t stop taking them because it was so amazing.

Entering the glacier.  Not sure if you can see the tiny dotes of people on the left side.  That is where we start our climb after we get fitted with our crampons.

Grabbing our crampons:

Getting them on.  Burr…it is blowing like mad but better in here. Good thing the hut to put on the cramptons had some shelter from the wind:

Our ice guides, showing off:

The gorgeous ice:

View of the green forest to the left of the massive glacier.  Strange juxtaposition:

Not so close…a 100 foot deep ice crevasse.  There is actually a strange type of insect that lives in the ice and eats microscopic organisms inside the glacier!  Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction!

Scotch on the rocks await with a piece of 400 year old ice inside:

Two of my favorite pictures. View of the glacier through the forest:

My father and I, traveling sidekicks:

An attempt to show how massive this glacier is.  It comes off the enormous Patagonian Ice Field which runs down Patagonia through Argentina and Chile.

Patagonian Condor….they are enormous and have a 10 foot wingspan:

View from above on the observation platform:

Glacial calving…the glacier booms, bangs like an explosion as a new calf is born into the water.  The glacier is truly alive:

Thirdeyemom in her element.  True Bliss indeed!

One last shoot before I leave….Goodbye Argentina…until we meet again!

We left Argentina the next day for our long journey back.  It was an amazing trip, one that fulfills the imagination and keeps me dreaming for the day I can come back!

Argentina TRAVEL BY REGION
— 2 Comments

Hike to Cerro Torre

The small alarm clock beeped incessantly for at least a minute until I turned it off, groggy and cold.  It was already past seven o’clock and I was surprised that I slept “in” so long.  To my dismay, there was no beam of light shining through the thick woolen curtains.  Just darkness.  There were no birds singing their beautiful songs, only the sound of the nearby llama grunting and the thunderous footsteps of other trekkers clomping past our room.

Despite my heavy meal and multiple glasses of cherry red wine, I slept poorly which was surprising given the extreme fatigue and exhaustion my body felt from the successfully completed eight hour hike.  Then I remembered the reason:  That late night thumping, crashing and booming of techno music from down the street.  I thought being in an extremely small town, in the middle of nowhere guaranteed peace and quiet throughout the night.  Obviously I was dead wrong!  Apparently there is a disco several blocks down the street that is open until 4 am and it is usually wall to wall people every weekend night.   I had to remember that I wasn’t twenty anymore; in fact perhaps this was a sign that I was getting old!  Yet I was still cranky that morning, not having enough sleep and not seeing the sun shine through the window.  I desperately needed a hot cup of strong, rich java.

Today’s hike was to another famous landmark, Cerro Torre.  Cerro Torre and Fitz Roy are two of the most formidable mountaineering feats in the world due to their steep, upwards granite spikes that seem to swirl up into the air like a giant tornado.  I learned that mountain climbers from all over the world come to El Chalten, where they base themselves for weeks and even sometimes months waiting for the one or two days possible to summit the peaks.  The weather there is that unpredictable.  The summits are that dangerous as well.

I’ll never forget the story Fabricio, our Argentine guide, told us about that perilous climb.  He said that two young men in their twenties, at the height of life and oblivious to the fact that they were not invincible (which we all believe we are in those prime years of youth and discovery) had set out to summit Mount Fitz Roy.  The weather was excellent when they started out but somehow it turned from bad to worse and the two young men were trapped on top of the mountain in insanely strong winds and whiteout conditions.  They tried their best to get down but unfortunately there was a tragic accident and the rope to one of the climbers was clipped on a jagged, razor-sharp rock.  He stumbled hundreds and hundreds of feet to his untimely death, devastating his climbing companion and the entire climbing community.  It brought a cold chill to my bones thinking about how fragile our lives can be and how quickly things can change in Patagonia.

The hike to Cerro Torre is not as long or difficult as the haul up to Fitz Roy however, it is supposedly equally as beautiful and pristine.  We were obviously not as fortunate weather-wise as the day before.

Photo of Day Three hike, much colder.  The weather had changed.  A storm passed through over the night and the strong, gusty winds brought in cooler air and snow a fresh memory of the winter to come for me at home in Minnesota:

The sky was misty, a typical day in Patagonia.  We realized how much we had lucked out the day before with the crystal blue sky and cloudless day.  A rare treat in Patagonia, that is for sure.

A new couple joined our group, Ricardo and Illaria, newly-weds from Milan, Italy.  Rici was a true gem, a rare find of humor, self-deprecation and intelligence.  Exactly the kind of person I love to meet on a hike!  The four of us talked for hours, sharing stories about our lives and cultures.

One of the best things about hiking in another country is the people you meet.  Usually they are just as wild and crazy as you are and there is always a place they’ve discovered that you’ve never been to….yet.  I could talk about traveling for hours and truly loved to meet others as passionate as me!  My mind was racing as I secretly plotted out my next adventures, hoping my husband wouldn’t find it as an excuse to tie me to a chair.   It was obvious to me that a true wanderlust will never be satisfied with their desire to see the world.  It is a passion that is never-ending and one I hope to someday instill on my young children’s hearts.

As the hike progressed, the visibility worsened and it got really, really bone-chilling cold.  Again, it was nothing at all like the twenty below zero tundra of late January in Minnesota.  Yet still it was very damp and cold which made hiking rather unpleasant.

We reached the end of our hike, freezing and slightly disappointed that the weather had not improved.  The end of the hike was supposed to offer a fabulous view of Cerro Torres but it was hidden in the clouds.  We could barely see the glacier at end of lake, too bad!

Needless to say, it was a very cold place for a picnic lunch.  We sat on the cold, hard glacial stones in silence while we devoured our avocado, chicken and tomato sandwich.  A few handfuls of mixed nuts and morsels of French chocolates helped warm me up:

Despite the fog, the view was incredibly lovely of the glacier and icebergs and once again it was a phenomenal place to refill our water bottles.  The water was so pure, it was outrageous and tasted delicious.

We proceeded directly back to our hotel to warm up and rest (of course over a warming glass of red wine).

That evening, we had one of our best meals ever in Argentina at the little inn next door.  The owner had built the first building in this town 25 years ago and the place was full of black and white photos of his inn, the mountains and nothing else.

It was our last night in the tiny town of El Chalten.  I was feeling rather nostalgic about it.  It was a place that you only can experience in a dream; it is like nowhere else I’d ever been.  What amazed me the most about it was how it had managed to survive, all these years, so far away and in such an extreme environment.

As we left on the one bus out of town, passing through the old, tin buildings on the long, rustic street that lead to Ruta 40 and back to El Calafate, I thought of an old proverb I had heard about Patagonia.  Once you’ve been there, you’ll always come back.  I trusted those words to be true.

Adventure Travel Argentina TRAVEL BY REGION Trekking/Hiking
Hike to Mount Fitz Roy, Argentina
— 94 Comments

Hike to Mount Fitz Roy

One of the most blissful things about trekking is the amazing amount of energy you expand throughout the day.  For someone who loves to eat and drink, being able to eat and drink whatever I wanted and not gain a pound was something truly incredible.  Sweets, breads, nuts, cheese were on my mind and eaten with pleasure throughout the day while delightful, homemade Argentine treasures were rapidly consumed at night over a bottle of dry, smooth, aged Malbec.  Needless to say, after a long day of trekking out in the elements and an extremely satisfying and filling meal and bottle or two of wine, I instantly dozed off in a deep slumber and slept peacefully (a rare treat for me these days) throughout the night.

The next morning I awoke earlier.  Something was different.  I couldn’t figure out immediately what it was until I finally got my achy, sore body out of bed and gently pulled open the dark, thick curtains.  And there it was…the big, wonderful, glorious sunshine!  I was overjoyed to see the sun because I knew only too well what it meant.  Excellent, unobstructed views of one of the best hikes in Southern Patagonia!  If we got up, inhaled our breakfast and got on our way soon, there would be a good chance we would make it to the crème de la crème, Mount Fitz Roy and see the craggy, jagged ice-capped peak in all its glory.  Given the ever changing weather in Patagonia, seeing it or anything is not always possible.  In fact, Fabricio said that typically it is only a one in ten shot that the day will be clear when you reach the top, meaning 9 out of 10 unlucky trekkers see absolutely nothing but gray, massive clouds and fog.  That would be an enormous disappointment given how many hours it took to reach this remote place and the unlikely chance that I would ever get to see it again.  Thus, I was up and ready in a heartbeat and impatiently awaiting our guide’s arrival so we can begin our hike.

The trek to Mount Fitz Roy is not technically difficult.  It is just grueling and long, taking eight hours with a short break or two for lunch and rest.  I had done long hikes before and found that I really enjoy them.  There is something about being in it for the long haul, and challenging your body that gets you in some kind of mysterious bodily rhythm and mindset.  Trekking is kind of like running a slow marathon yet better.  Not as intense.  Not as extreme.  Yet, that same kind of exhausting, mind over matter feeling where you somehow enter a zone of deep contemplation and relaxation.  For me, hiking is the only sport that does this to me.  It brings me far, far away, into areas of my mind and body that have been long sealed up and hidden.  It represents some kind of crazy, deep release that makes me feel refreshed and whole once again.  There is something about using only your body and being in nature that brings me peace. And the longer the hike, the better.

We reached the start of the trail at half past eight and saw no one.  The air was fresh and crisp and there was not a single cloud in the brilliant deep blue sky.  I felt an energy and excitement for the day that made me feel truly alive.  I couldn’t wait to see the top and be rewarded with a supposedly gorgeous view of a postcard perfect Patagonia.   My brain was running wild with thoughts and conversation flowed freely and effortlessly.

The start of the trail:

Day 2 Hike:  8 hour exhausting hike to Mount Fitzroy:

Start of hike, beautiful weather.  We lucked out.  Not always certain you will see the peaks.  In fact, only a one in ten chance:

One of the surprising things about Patagonia is its purity.  When I was in New Zealand several years ago, I remember the big advertisement at the time was for “100% Pure New Zealand”.  I of course fell head over heels in love with the raw beauty and nature of New Zealand’s South Island yet it never felt as remote and pure to me as Patagonia.  Perhaps it was the utter ruggedness and harshness of the landscape and environment that made Patagonia seem so utterly pure.  I’m not sure if I can point a finger to exactly why I felt this why but I did.  In Patagonia, anything seemed possible.  The first time I dipped my empty water bottle into a flowing, glacial river I was extremely hesitant about its safety.  Yet my local guide encouraged me to give it a try, stating that it was the purest, freshest, most delicious water in the world.  And, it was.  I’ll never forget the incredible taste of Patagonian water directly from the source.  It was amazing and I could drink it forever.  Water in park is so pure, we used it to refill our water bottles getting drinking water directly from the streams and glacial lakes (burr…cold sticking your hand in but hugely rewarding for the effort).  Here is a picture of the rock landscape protecting the rapidly flowing glacial river with delicious drinking water abound:

As we climbed further along the empty trail, we suddenly saw a glimpse of our destination.  Here is a view of Mount Fitz Roy through the thick beech forest:

Small glacier pouring out of the mountains:

We were indeed truly lucky as the weather remained picture perfect clear.  Not a single cloud had arrived into the sky to mess things up.  What a miracle!  We knew that they last eight consecutive days on the trail had been misty and full of fog.  To hike eight hours and not see a thing would be a huge disappointment!

On the approach to the top and our much deserved picnic lunch:

Heading up through the snow:

The breathtaking approach of Mt. Fitz Roy:

View of where we started below:

At the top—wow, did we luck out on the clear sky.  Only 1 out of 10 days like this in Patagonia!  And no wind!!!! (there is a lot of wind, and there is mucho mucho mucho viento as they say here):

Wow….what a place for a picnic:

Strange patagonian clouds:

Almost home…one last look:

One of our great drinking holes:

Argentina TRAVEL BY REGION
— Leave a Comment

First Hike into the Wild

We woke up early after a wonderful, restful sleep tucked away in our rustic Patagonian “cabin”.  It was eerily quiet and still.  The morning sun was barely coming through the seams of the heavy woolen curtains.  I peered outside the small window.  It was gray and looked cold; a dramatic change from sunshine and t-shirts just a day before in Buenos Aires.  Yet I did not hear that unforgettable, forceful wind that I remembered only too well from my last trip to Patagonia.  Fortunately for us, the vicious wind was nothing to worry about here.  It was nothing like the incredibly strong gusts of wind that nearly knocks you over backwards in Punta Arenas, Chile.  There, they actually have chains along the sidewalk for those brave souls to grab on to in the event of severe, forty to fifty mile per hour wind.  So I was relieved to know that El Chalten appeared to be better protected from those glacial winds. 

We ate a quick breakfast of delicious homemade breads, fresh strawberry jam, and fruit.  I secretly wondered where the food came from and how often it arrived in town.  We had not seen a single truck on Ruta 40, the only way in to El Chalten from El Calefate.  Yet the food was surprisingly good and amazingly fresh.  How on earth it got there was a mystery to me.

Our guide, Fabricio, from Cascada Expedicionnes was meeting us at eight o’clock sharp to begin our day.  It would be a short hike, only 5-6 hours, with not too many ups and downs.  A good “get in shape” hike to test out the waters and explore the park before hitting the bigger, more difficult ones.

Fabricio arrived exactly on time and off we went.  We wore several layers of clothing since it was fairly cold and dreary out that morning.  I had learned from my last two trips to Patagonia that when it comes to the weather, anything is possible.  You can literally have four seasons in a day going from short sleeve shirts and sweltering hot to maddening, wild wind, sheets of rain coming horizontally, sleet and even a full out blizzard.  This experience of the “four seasons in one day” happened to my husband and I when we were trekking the infamous “W” trek in Torres del Paine National Park, Chile, where we got snowed in to a remote, mountain refugio. Thus, the bottom line is to be prepared and have multiple layers of waterproof and warm clothing packed in your day pack.  Otherwise you will be awfully wet, cold and miserable. 

It is also a must to have an excellent, broken in pair of hiking boots as well as sturdy set of hiking poles or “sticks” (with the Spanish accent it was always “steeks”).  The sticks are what save you when you have to pass through slick, slippery mud or snow-covered steep paths.  You not only need the poles for balance, but safety so you don’t kill yourself or your knees.

We set off with Fabricio and a husband and wife team from England, and were on our merry way.  Like my father, the English couple was in their sixties and in excellent shape.  They had traveled the world together, seeing much of it via foot.  I instantly gravitated towards them and we talked the entire time about their life together and of course their biggest adventures.  Unbeknownst to me, I learned about my next future trip from them, the incredible Annapurna Circuit Trek in Nepal.  They marveled about their experience and said it was a trip of a lifetime that I had to do.  Little did I know, that set the wheels in motion for what was indeed a trip of a lifetime and was recently completed in November of 2010.

The best thing about El Chalten is that it is so small that the trails leading to the mountains and incredible views are not a far walk from town.  Within ten to fifteen minutes, you are able to reach all the trailheads and suddenly all symbols of mankind are erased from your mind, except the infrequent hiker passing you by on the trail.    It is truly incredible.  There are no huge, annoying parking lots loaded with overflowing tourist buses.  No McDonalds.  There really isn’t much of anything except a couple hundred unpresumptuous buildings, one main road and the wild.   A perfect place, in my opinion, to get away from it all and escape.

Here are some photos along the way:

Day 1 of our first trek.  We left at 8 am directly from our hotel, walking right down the main steet in Chalten.  Chalten was formed in 1985.  It now has 2-3000 inhabitants but before then, there was nothing.  It felt like middle of nowhere probably because it was.  There was nothing there except a handful of houses, buildings and the great outdoors.

View of the town with Mt. Fitroy in back:

At the trailhead (1st hike):

Our destination, above:

Hiking instructions:

View of the town below (tiny tiny):

Despite the snow and cool air, Spring is in the air.  Blossoming shrubs dotted the snow packed trails giving one a splendid contrast of color:

Far away shot El Chalten…you can see how remote the town is.  Beyond the town, there is nothing for hours until you reach El Calafate three and a half hours later on Ruta 40:

Getting colder.  Snowed night before so all the mountains are covered:

My favorite pic…My dad and our guide—picture shows mysticism of place:

And this is Spring in Patagonia: Fresh snow on the mountains!

At the top, a cold lunch picnic (picture of my father and I):

Coming down…rugged, jagged Patagonia in all its glory:

Heading back to town (village in background):

PINCH ME….AM I REALLY HERE?

Argentina TRAVEL BY REGION
— 4 Comments

The Tiny Outpost in the Middle of Nowhere

El Chalten is a different kind of place, an outpost in Patagonia, in the middle of nowhere.  It was established in 1985 as a trekking base for mountaineers who wished to summit the nearby, towering and difficult Cerro Torro and Mount Fitzroy.  It began slowly with only tents and today, twenty-five years later has a handful of small restaurants, hotels and shops.  The local population is about 2,000-3,000 residents depending upon the time of year.  Some people stay only during the main tourist season from October to late April, when the mountains and trails are accessible and tourists flock in.  Others remain for the whole year, living through the intense Patagonian winter and are nearly cut off from the rest of civilization until the Spring arrives in October.  It is a wild place, like no place on earth, and is a fitting location to explore the spectacular, divine Los Glaciares National park.

Here are some photos of El Chalten to stir up your imagination:

The town of El Chalten:

Our little humble hotel in Chalten.  El Puma.  It was actually quite lovely with a wood burning fireplace in the reception area and nice rooms:

The llama outside the hotel…watch out!  They spit!

Entrance to the town:

El Chalten from the mountains, in the valley below:

The one and only main drag in town:

The only grocery store:

The lone convenience store:

The road leading up to our hotel.  I couldn’t get enough of this old, crazy car:

For such a small town, I found lots of interesting photo opps:

Symbol of living in a small, remote town:  A classic!  My impatient Dad, waiting at the ONLY Atm in town, with the bank car there, yet you couldn’t get any money.  The wire connection was down.  No cash for the entire town until tomorrow.

Argentina TRAVEL BY REGION
— Leave a Comment

El Chalten: The End of the World

The flight down to El Calafate takes about five hours non-stop from Buenos Aires.  It is hard to believe that Argentina and Chile stretch for so many miles from north to south (Chile is an extremely long country covering 2,653 miles from north to south while Argentina is slightly shorter at 2,268 miles from north to south).  During the flight south you can really capture the amazing distance between the two ends of the country as the landscape and geography dramatically change from lush, green farmland and pastures to barren, wind-blown, flat pampas and jagged, snow-capped mountains and glaciers.  It is like going from one extreme to the other and the change is quite startling.

We left for Calafate early in the morning.  It was almost 30 degrees Celsius in Buenos Aires that morning and we were sweltering hot in t-shirts and pants.  As we descended into El Calafate, the landscape had dramatically changed from vibrant greens to dusty browns and the wind was so incredibly fierce that the plane bounced around like a flying rollercoaster.  Having traveled to southern Patagonia before, I was prepared this time for the hair-rising landing into windy, turbulent Patagonia.  My stomach still dropped and my palms still sweat, but I knew that this was to be expected because Patagonia is by far one of the windiest places on earth. 

The airport was located in a flat, open plain with little vegetation and little to see.  El Calafate, which is named after the calafate berry which is prominent in this part of the world, is a small, tourist-based town that does not have much to offer besides a strip of overpriced restaurants, shops and hotels.  Most tourists use it as a launching off point to visit the world-famous Perito Moreno Glacier or some of the remote, yet priceless National Parks that surround the glaciers and craggy mountains in Chilean and Argentine Patagonia.  There has been much debate over which Patagonia is better and as someone who has been to both sides, I find them both equally magnificent.  Realizing how important the spectacular landscape of Patagonia could be for the invaluable, lucrative tourism industry, both Chile and Argentina have fought for control over the land resulting in a funny, dotted and somewhat jagged line on the map splitting up Patagonia into a horizontal jigsaw puzzle from north to south.  Yet somehow it manages to work.  I learned quickly that you should never discuss this with the natives, however, as it is still a sensitive, thorny subject.

Once in the town of Calafate, we had time for a short lunch where we met a representative from our tour operator, Cascada Expedicionnes (the company I used several years before during our trek in Torres del Paine) and then headed off to the small, rundown bus station at the end of town where we would enter into the next leg of our long journey, a three and a half hour bus ride through the vast pampas and nothingness, until reaching the tiny outpost of a town, El Chalten:  One of the last frontiers before heading off into Los Glaciares National Park. 

There was only one bus a day to El Chalten, which left at 6:30 pm and arrived by 10 o’clock.  As expected, the bus station was jam packed with Gortex and backpack clad trekkers all heading to the same tiny village at the foot of the stunning, massive Mounts Fitz Roy, Cerro Torre and Puntiagudo.    

The bus was remarkably silent for being so full.  Perhaps the others were just as tired as us.  There was nothing to really see and nothing to really say so we just sat back and tried to enjoy the long, bumpy ride.  We stopped about half way along the way at the tiny one-building/hotel town of La Leona, which is the infamous hideout of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.  There was absolutely nothing there except a hotel, a ranch and the tourist propaganda.   (This picture below represents THE town.  Sign indicated directions to all countries from that point). 

We boarded the bus after a fifteen minutes break and were on our way.  The sun began to set across the vast, flat pampas and the bus was completely silent for the remainder of the ride.

We arrived in El Chalen at night in the dark.  It first appeared as a glimpse from the distance.  It was black all around.  Total darkness except for the soft light coming from the bus headlights, bouncing off the barren landscape and empty pavement.  No street lights.  No cars.  Nothing.  Just darkness. 

Then there it was.  First a twinkling of light.  Then as we approached, more.  Several old fashioned lampposts lined the streets of the small mountain town, an outpost, at the end of the world.  It reminded me of some kind of Hollywood movie set for an old western film that used to run on TV in the middle of the night.  It was like no place I’d ever been; it didn’t feel real.

The bus drove down the one and only street, slowly passing rustic shops, restaurants and small, dated hotels until in no time it reached the makeshift bus station, a small, basic backpackers’ hostel.  We got off the bus, with knees aching and fatigue setting in, to find our host, Diego, smiling and welcoming us to the car.  We drove the short distance to our small, basic hotel, El Puma, and settled into our room.  But our night could not end without a much necessary bottle of deep, ruby red Malbec and a conversation with Diego about the hikes planned for the next few days.  I was looking forward to exploring this mysterious, remote land.  When I reached the room, I had no problem drifting suddenly and soundly asleep into a blissful, restful sleep.

Adventure Travel Argentina TRAVEL BY REGION Trekking/Hiking
— 3 Comments

A day in Colonia del Sacramento

 

It was my second trip to Argentina and my third trip to Patagonia. For some reason, I could not get enough. Patagonia is one of the most mystical, magical places in the world. Its remoteness (Patagonia is one of the most remote places on earth and literally at the end of the world), rugged beauty and wild extremes in climate make it like no other place on earth. Perhaps that is why so many others, like me, have fallen in love with the place. There is something otherworldly about it.
My obsession with Patagonia began eight years ago when my husband and I spent ten amazing days trekking and exploring Chile’s national jewel, Torres del Paine National Park. It was a trip of a lifetime that changed my mindset and made me decide that I wanted to travel by foot as much as possible. I realized during that trip that there is truly something unique about going to the middle of nowhere, where there are no phones, no cars, no airplanes, no noise—only silence and nature. It was the first place that I ever truly felt like I was able to escape and relax, as if nothing else mattered in life except the rising and setting of the sun and the song of the birds. The landscape was so wild, so extreme and so above one’s imagination, that it felt like I was on another planet. The splendor and hardship of hiking several hours a day in sometimes extreme weather conditions made me feel at one with nature and with my own inner being. It was almost a spiritual journey. So perhaps that is why I’ve become so obsessed with Patagonia and always want to go back.
November of 2009 was my second trip to Patagonia with my father. The first trip we visited the vibrant, multicultural Buenos Aires and then headed to the Patagonian Lakes District, San Carlos de Bariloche. The trip was wonderful and the beauty was supreme. However, Bariloche was not the wild, intense, extreme Patagonia that I experienced in Chile’s Torres del Paine and I ended up being slightly disappointed. Thus, we had to go back and we had to go further south, deep into the real Patagonia.
This time, after much research, we opted to spend a few days in Buenos Aires (since it is such a fantastic city), do a day trip to Colonia del Sacremento in neighboring Uruguay, and then take two more flights south to the almost the end of the road: El Calafate, the heart of Argentina’s Patagonia.
The flight to Buenos Aires from the States is not bad. American Airlines flys non-stop from Atlanta and the flight was a little over ten hours. One of the pleasures of flying south as opposed to east or west is that there is little change in time. Thus that dreadful jetlag is almost completely avoided, which is a huge bonus in my mind. I find jetlag to be very difficult so I was happy that this time we would hardly feel a thing. Only a two hour time change for me.
We landed in Buenos Aires the next morning, feeling ready to go. I remember seeing the verdant green pastures and fields of Argentina, calling my name, from far below. It was approaching winter in Minnesota and everything at home was brown, bare, and dead. The brilliant green rolling hills below were like a magical shock to my eyes. My heart beat faster as we made our final descent. I couldn’t wait to get on the ground, feel the warm, gentle breeze on my skin and not be bogged down with a heavy winter coat and cap.
The airport was exactly how I had remembered: Big, busy and chaotic. Yet this time I was prepared and the endless swarm of people holding up white signs and placards in the Arrivals Lounge did not overwhelm me. Of course it took over twenty five minutes to find the one man holding the sign that said our name, but we found it. We had our driver and were on our way to our lovely hotel in Palermo Soho, a trendy, newly gentrified neighborhood on the northwestern side of Buenos Aires.
Driving in Buenos Aires takes some series guts. Cars speed in and out of lanes without a skip of a beat and sometimes three lanes of traffic suddenly become five. You feel like you are going to get in a major accident almost every second of the ride and horns are used constantly. When we asked our driver how he does it, he said it takes a good pair of “white knuckles”.
Palermo Soho is a wonderful neighborhood full of hip, boutique hotels, restaurants, designer shops and bars. The streets are tree-lined and full of outdoor cafes and bars. It is a young, urban neighborhood that is so full of energy and excitement that it is impossible not to feel alive. You can find anything you want to eat, whether it be a traditional Argentine Parrilla (grill), café food, or any kind of multicultural food possible. It was the perfect place to unwind after a long day of sightseeing and enjoy an outrageously delightful dinner and bottle of Malbec at a good price.
Since it was our second time in Buenos Aires, we decided to do something different. I had heard a lot of talk about neighboring Uruguay, the second smallest country in South America that has its own unique culture and is a rather unknown hidden treasure to most tourists. Argentina and Uruguay are divided by the brackish Rio de la Plata, and daily ferries, buses and flights are available between Buenos Aires and the three main Uruguayan tourist destinations: Colonia del Sacramento, Montevideo and Punte del Este. We decided to take the morning speed ferry to the tiny gem of Colonia del Sacramento, a UNESCO World Heritage site.
The ride was short but sweet, lasting only forty-five minutes from port to port. The only downside of the trip was that we had to go through customs on each side. But other than that, it was a pretty easy way to visit another country in only a day. Being so close, you would think that Uruguay and Argentina would be exactly the same but there were not. Despite a shared language, a land of gauchos, and a love of football, Argentina and Uruguay are quite different. Although I only had a few hours there to explore, I found Uruguay to be a very intimate, peaceful, easy-going place. There was almost something lackadaisical about it, and it felt like it was set back in time. Here are some of my favorite pictures from my short stay:

Beautiful tree-lined cobblestone street:

For some reason, I just couldn’t get enough of all the old cars. Especially the broken down ones that probably have been here forever.


View down cobblestone street of the river separating Buenos Aires and Colonia:


Pastel painted buildings and colonial architecture:


Plenty of beautiful outdoor cafes. Yes the Uruguanian wine is delicious too.

Another picture of café life. Quiet, relaxing and excellent ambiance. Felt like you were in a long-forgotten world from the past. Very removed from the rapid pace of Buenos Aires. Quite a lovely place.

Argentina TRAVEL BY REGION Uruguay
— 8 Comments

The Handprints

One of the first things I noticed when I walked into the CCS Home Base in Cartago was the handprints. They were everywhere. Coated across every wall in every room (including the bathrooms!) and covering every single empty space, making them hard to miss and hard to resist.

Every single volunteer that comes through CCS Cartago’s door is invited to paint their handprint, artwork and a quote on the walls of the inside of the home base before they leave. The handprints represent the mark they made in Cartago and I found it truly inspirational to read them. Not an ounce of wall was free from art, quotes, poetry, songs, handprints and names of past volunteers. I could not believe my eyes and would spend any free moments I had during the week reading the walls and reflecting on what each volunteer had said. I also had to think about what I would want to say before I left and where in the heck I would put it since the free space was very limited.

Reflecting back, of course I was very skeptical about the impact I’d have on others in only a week’s time. However, by the end of my week volunteering I was pleasantly surprised to see that all my doubts were proven wrong. I knew I had made a difference in the smiles and hugs I received by not only the friendships I made at the Hogar Jesus de los Manus Nursing Home and Dona Melba’s foster children, but also in the cultural exchange and friendship I shared with the staff at all places including the CCS Home Base (Santi, Jose, Lucy, the cooks and the security guards) and the volunteers as well. However, by far the most surprising thing of all, was that I realized that I received a gift as well. The gift of an overwhelming sense of satisfaction, contentment and joy by the power of giving back. That is a gift that will forever change me and continue me on my path to somehow, if even small, make a difference in this world.

I thought about the quotes and what my week long volunteer stint had meant to me. It meant many different things. Beautiful, compassionate things about how one can truly make a difference, even if it is small, by just giving someone in need a smile or a shoulder to cry on. The fulfillment and joy received by helping people who can’t help themselves due to poverty, abandonment, disability, drug or alcohol abuse or simply old age. In our busy lives back at home in the States, yes of course we have problems, yet it is easy to loose sight of the bigger picture in the world and all those people who are suffering and could use our help. That is what my week volunteering in Costa Rica taught me. That anything is possible and that anything can help. I feel I can no longer travel without giving back, whether it be volunteering, making a new friend abroad or raising money at home to donate to a local NGO in the country I’m visiting. This is my new mantra and raison d’être. I can no longer be just someone passing through. When a place shares their country and all its wonders with me, I am obligated to give back something in return. That is the promise I made myself after Costa Rica. Now it’s time to start fulfilling my dreams!

Here are some of my favorite quotes that touched me deeply:




Handprints at the front entrance:

Handprints leading into my bunk room:

This is a photo of Cassiano and Lindsey, two fellow volunteers, painting their quotes on our last night in Cartago:

Their quotes:

Here is my quote:

Here is a picture of the entire volunteer group in Cartago:

More pictures of the volunteers:


CARPE DIEM!

P.S. For those who are wondering….where is she off to next? I am heading out April 15th to Rabat, Morocco to complete another international volunteer program with Cross-Cultural Solutions. I will be working with Moroccans and African Refuges on learning English. Stay tuned!

Central America Costa Rica SOCIAL GOOD TRAVEL BY REGION Volunteering Abroad
— 2 Comments

Holy Week on Speed

When I booked my volunteer trip to Costa Rica I picked the week that coincided with my children’s school Spring breaks. I would be coming home the day before Easter and that would be give us enough time to have a nice meal Easter Sunday and hid some eggs for the kids. I had no idea that the week before Easter, Holy Week, was one of the most important weeks in the Costa Rica, amass with celebrations, parades, religious processions, fireworks, theater and plays, all in the name of Jesus. Thus you can imagine my surprise and delight that first day I spent in San Jose, Palm Sunday, to see the true meaning of Holy Week on Speed! (Sorry if I offend the more religious types).

The entire week was full of celebrations. As I mentioned in an earlier post (“Fireworks at Noon”) fireworks and processions were huge, day and night. Santi and Jose told us that there would be events occurring every eventing in Cartago and San Rafael and they were indeed correct. A couple of nights we heard the approaching beat of a marching band and were delighted to see a candlelight processional right through town. We also went to a gorgeous candlelight quartet in the Cultural Center and viewed the masses of pilgrims coming to the infamous Basilica daily. It was quite an experience!

Towards the end of the week, San Rafael (the more religious part of town) set up and staged an entire reenactment of The Last Supper. It was held at 8 pm after the sun had set and all light up by candles and torches. Practically the entire town was there with children in tow, watching in awe. The play lasted over two hours and of course I couldn’t understand a word (it was all verses from the Bible in Spanish—a double whammy for me) except the Spanish “Jesus” over and over again. The grand slam of the week was supposed to be the reenactment of the Crucifixion. But I was going to be on my plane ride home to the States so I would unfortunately miss it. Here is a photo of the setting up of the stage:

What the most ironic thing of all about Holy Week was the ban on alcohol. I thought Minnesota’s laws were strict such as no alcohol sold on Sundays and no alcohol sold in grocery stores (not even wine!) but I was completely thrown off guard when I discovered how strict the Costa Rican’s view alcohol (even wine and beer) during Holy Week. All alcohol sold in restaurants, bars, and stores is completely banned from the Thursday before Easter until noon on Easter Sunday! I had never heard of such a strict enforcement anywhere (except of course the Middle Eastern countries which I haven’t had the opportunity to visit yet). The most ironic thing of all is that we were not allowed as volunteers to drink even a glass of wine throughout our week in Cartago, given it is a very religious town and it would not look good having the volunteers partying in front of the locals). However, once we hit Friday night we were free to do as we wished since the program was over. We searched and searched for a place, even a simple restaurant, where we could order a beer or just a single glass of wine and were refused everywhere. Not one single place in or out of town could serve even one glass. It was strictly enforced everywhere. It would have to wait until the plane ride home to the States!

Despite the alcohol ban, we of course still found other ways to celebrate. Friday afternoon, after our volunteer work was completed, Cassiano, Lindsey and I hired a driver to take us to the nearby Tapanti Rainforest. It was only supposedly only an hour or so away but wound up taking a lot longer due to the road conditions near the park (i.e. mostly gravel). But we didn’t mind, we were on an adventure and excited to see the flora and fauna that Costa Rica is world-renowned for.

Our drive took us to a beautiful lookout area above Cartago city. Here is a picture of the city laying within the lush, verdant valley:

As we headed towards the park, we passed through a small, lovely village called Orosi. It is about a forty minute drive from Cartago and home to Lucy, the CCS Office Manager. We stopped in Orosi to visit the beautiful, main church which was of course preparing for the upcoming Holy Week Festivities. Here are some pictures of lovely Orosi:
The town square (note the homes going up the hillside):

The main church:

The stage for the upcoming reenactments and plays for Holy Week:

After our visit to Orosi, we got back in the bumpy cab ride with our driver who didn’t speak a lick of English and continued along towards Tapanti National Park. We passed coffee trees going along the way and saw farmers harvesting the beans. Here is a picture of the coffee trees growing right along the road:

We kept thinking we were getting near the park but it was taking forever. We asked the driver how much further in our broken Spanish and he continued to say not much longer. To our dismay, it was getting close to three o’clock which was much later than we had expected. The paved road mysteriously ended and signs of civilization disappeared. The sun was lower in the sky and we were getting worried until we finally saw a sign for the park. We continued on a gravel, bumpy road for almost an hour, my stomach churning due to the motion, and then we finally saw it: Tapanti National Park. Relieved, we got out of the car to pay our entrance fee to the park and saw that the office was closed! The signs at the park said open until 4 pm. It was 4:05. After three and a half hours riding in a hired taxi cab, we were going to get in, somehow. Luckily, Lindsey knew some Spanish and with the help of our driver was able to convince the guard to reopen the park just for us. One hour, we promised, and the gates were opened.

Tapanti was indeed everything a rainforest should be, except the hidden monkeys (which we heard in the distance but did not see). It was lush, wet, and full of life. We walked around for our allotted time, snapped some pictures and enjoyed the silliness of our adventurous day. It was of course raining so we didn’t get much in the way of pictures but here are a few to give you an idea of the misty, secluded rainforest:


A giant mushroom:

The misty view of a hidden waterfall:

A rambling brook:

And finally, the gravel road leading out of the park at dusk:

We were back in the taxi by 5 PM and were not looking forward to our long drive back. Our adventure ended up costing us about $150 but was well worth the trip. We dreamed of having an ice cold beer that night but to our chagrin, the entire country was in an alcohol lockdown. It would have to wait until the plane!

Central America Costa Rica TRAVEL TRAVEL BY REGION
— 2 Comments

The House of Children

Volunteers were not needed Friday morning at the nursing home so instead Cross-Cultural Solutions (CCS) arranged another volunteer opportunity for the day. CCS works with a variety of different non-profits in Cartago and places their volunteers on an as-needed basis. When you sign up on a CCS volunteer program, you do not find out exactly what your assignment will be until two to three weeks before departure. You have an idea of what it may entail. Normally CCS volunteers work in nursing homes, hospitals, orphanages, centers for disabled children or adults, or teaching English. Thus, when you sign up to volunteer you know it will be one of the above programs. The in-country home base typically evaluates the needs in the community and at each agency to see what the best fit is for the available volunteers. For our week-long program, the nursing home was the best match for the given amount of time and number of volunteers. However, Friday we were not needed thus Santi and Jose found another, exciting opportunity for us: Taking the 35 foster children of Dona Melba’s foster home to the park.

Dona Melba and her husband were well-known throughout Cartago as a wonderful, caring couple who had established a foster home for unwanted, abandoned and abused children over 25 years ago. Their family began slowly, taking in a few children here and there who needed homes and over time grew into a large, close-knit family of adopted and foster children all under one roof.

We had received an update from another volunteer named Julia who was an early high school graduate from St. Louis, Missouri spending three months in Cartago volunteering with Dona Melba’s children. It was a chaotic household with children of all ages and varying degrees of emotional and mental stability living in a small house and being cared for by only Dona Melba and her husband. Occasionally, they would receive local volunteers and ones from other international organizations but most of the time they and their 35 children were on their own. You can imagine the work involved in caring for such a large household. Laundry was done all day long in a large room with piles of washed and folder clothing assorted by age (this was the easiest way for children to find clothing. No one had their own clothing. Everything was shared). Cleaning and work around the house was taken care of by the older children in the family. Cooking was also a shared job by the older children which took hours.

Having two young children of my own, I couldn’t even fathom how much work 35 kids would be! I asked Julia tons of questions on our ride to the home. Over the last three months working with the children, she had become extremely attached and was very concerned about leaving them soon. She knew the ins and outs of each child and told us some of the most devastating, tragic stories of their young lives before they were saved by Dona Melba.

One boy, Alain, had an alcoholic mother who never fed him as an infant and abandoned him barely alive at Dona Melba’s doorstep. There was not even a note. Obviously, he was in poor health and was seriously malnourished which had lead to brain damage. At age eleven, he cannot talk, cannot eat unassisted and struggles with his motor skills such as walking and catching a ball. I spent some time hanging out with him at the park and he was a lovely child who was fascinated by tearing off weeds and throwing them into the creek and watching them float away. He would smile, frantically jump up and down and grunt in pleasure. It was heartbreaking but at least I knew he was loved and cared for with Dona Melba.

Another girl was named Anita who had also been abandoned in a terrible state. Dona Melba found her completely battered up. In a rage, her parents beat her up at two years of age and hurt her so badly that they broke both of her legs. She was rescued by Dona Melba and would not speak or smile for years. A year ago, a CCS volunteer from New York worked with Anita and felt compelled to do something about her terrible situation. Fortunately, her father had connections with a surgeon in NYC and they were able to raise enough money to fly Anita and Dona Melba to New York for surgery that enabled her to finally walk! Although she isn’t perfect on her feet, at least this special little six year old girl can finally get off her hands and knees crawling and walk and play like the others! It was quite a story and brought tears to my eyes.

Then there was Cesar, another disabled child, who was in his teens but was mentally about the age of four or five. He loved playing ball with the volunteers and loved the special attention. To think that this child was abandoned and mistreated just because he wasn’t perfect made me sick. It made me realize that we are all humans.

The morning at the park was delightful. We played ball, chased balloons, ran after the children and enjoyed their imagination and laughter. It was a special day. In light of the horrendous stories and tragic backgrounds, these children had hope. The love and care that they received from Dona Melba, her husband and the endless amount of volunteers flowing in, lead me to believe in the resilience and hope of the human spirit.

Here are some pictures from our visit to the park. In order to provide protection for the kids, I will not include any of their names. The beautiful, serene park:

The beautiful children from the foster home:



Central America Costa Rica SOCIAL GOOD TRAVEL TRAVEL BY REGION Volunteering Abroad