Ollantaytambo

After several days of acclimating to the altitude and touring the sites in and around Cusco with us, Sharon and Bernie set off to do a little exploring on their own. You simply cannot come all the way to Peru without seeing Machu Picchu, and since Mike and I hadn't been patient enough to wait and see it with them they were forced to go it alone. We sent them on their merry way and made plans to pick them up in Cusco the next night.

When Sharon and Bernie got to Aguas Calientes, however, they were unable to buy return train tickets to Cusco. We emailed back and forth a few times and came up with an alternative plan: we would meet them in Ollantaytambo, another town on the train's route.

This seemed straightforward enough.

Mike and I figured we could take a bus to Ollantaytambo, book a hotel for the 4 of us, and meet Sharon and Bernie at the train station after their eventful day of M.P. sightseeing.

Easier said than done.

You see, Bernie told Mike that the train would get in to Ollantaytambo "around 11:00 pm," assuming that Mike would double-check the time for more specific information. Mike interpreted the statement to mean something more like "show up around 11:01 so that you can pick us up after we've exited the train and gathered our belongings."

So, the next night as Mike and I are sitting in our hotel room (about 10 blocks down the same street as the train station) at 10:45 I notice a lot of street noise. I look out the window to see several taxis and a few tourists with backpacks or wheel-y suitcases rumble by. Hmmm.... "Mike, what time did you say the train gets in?"

We decided it was about time for us to walk on down to the train station, so we set off a few minutes later. By the time we got to the station, it was pitch dark...and locked. Hmmm.... We sort of stood there not knowing what to do for a moment, and then I started my worried tirade:

"Oh no! We've missed them! What do you think happened? Shit, shit, shit. They probably thought we'd abandoned them. How could they think that? Of course we'd come get them. Shit. They probably waited for, like, 5 minutes and gave up on us. Do you think they would have gotten a taxi? I think I might have seen your Dad through the window of that last one that went by. Wouldn't they have seen us? Shit! So you s'pose they would just try to find their own hotel for tonight? How will we ever find them again? What a mess! I mean, I guess we could meet them back at our Cusco hotel, but do you think they would be able to make it back there? Their Spanish isn't the greatest. Shit! They must have been freaking out, getting off the train and not being able to find us. What do you think they would do? How will we contact them? Now what?"

(There may have been even more expletives in my actual speech, but I think it's best to leave out all the gritty details.)

So after about 5 minutes of standing outside the locked train station freaking out, I noticed a security guard walking our way. "Buscan sus padres?" (Are you looking for your parents?) How did he know? Turns out he knew because he managed to piece together the near-frantic older couple who'd gotten off the train with the near-frantic younger couple outside the locked gates. Genius. He unlocked the gates and led us to where Sharon and Bernie were trying their best to communicate their predicament to some locals.

Ah, relief.

By now I'm sure you've figured out that the "around 11:00 pm" train actually arrived quite a bit earlier. Sharon and Bernie got off at the stop and patiently waited for Mike and I to collect them. Slowly, all of the other passengers trickled out of the station, with no sign of Mike and me. The remaining taxi drivers tried to shuffle Sharon and Bernie into their cabs, explaining that there would be no more cabs that night. They wisely resisted. Once the station was completely abandoned, Sharon and Bernie busted out their English-Spanish dictionary and tried to ask for help/advice. I think they were pretty frustrated and worried, especially since very little progress was being made with the language barrier. I'm pretty sure all 4 of us were quite relieved when we were finally reunited.

Luckily, we had a pretty swanky place for the night, so we all slept well after that escapade.

The next day we explored Ollantaytambo -- the town and the ruins. There really isn't a whole lot to say about them (you've already seen so many photos of ruins), so I'll just go ahead and post some pictures:



Look! Torritos on an actual Peruvian house. (Do you remember the photo of the bulls we put up on the archway of our house in Mesa?)



Another set-up.



Translating is hard!







Corn drying on a rooftop.







The Ollantaytambo firemen were out hosing down the streets for some reason or another.

After our day in Ollantaytambo we returned to Cusco, stayed another night, and finally set off for Lake Titicaca -- but more on that in the next post...

On a side note, I encourage you to watch this week's episode of MTV's Exiled. It takes place in Ollantaytambo, Peru -- or at least the countryside near there. Exiled is a show in which bratty, spoiled, rich kids are sent to live with a family in some third-world country for a week. It should be at least mildly entertaining, and you might get a better idea of what we saw and experienced when we were in Peru. The show airs on Monday nights, so check your local listings for the time!

"Sexy Woman" and Other Lesser-Known Ruins

I've taken quite the hiatus from blogging, but there's still so much to tell about our adventures in Peru. Even though I'm extremely super-busy this semester, hopefully I'll find the time to blog more regularly until you're all caught up on our travels.

After we left the Pisac market, Sharon, Bernie, Mike, and I visited the Pisac ruins that dot the hills above the town.



The taxi driver who drove us up to the ruins handed us a map and told us he'd pick us up and take us back to town in an hour and a half.



Although the ruins aren't quite as grand or as famous as those at Macchu Picchu, they still feature some very nice terracing and some spectacular views.



Of course, the locals take advantage of the spot to sell belts, purses and knick-knacks to tourists.



Sharon and Bernie pose for a picture on a walk-through cave path.



Sharon tipped some young boys who were playing music for the tourists. They were abysmal. Maybe they can use the money for lessons. Or better yet, they could put their tips toward a decent education so that they don't have to play horrible music at tourist attractions.

After getting our fill of Pisac (market and ruins), we hopped a bus to another ruin called Tambomachay.



Again, the locals were on hand to pose for photos in exchange for tips. This is far more common in areas near Cusco than anywhere else in the country. These ladies were in the process of spinning wool. Even in non-touristy settings it's common to see women walking around with a bag of fluff on one hip and a spinning bob in their hands, though they might be in less ostentatious clothing.



We found ourselves at Tambomachay at a time of day when the lighting was really pretty on the mountains and the ruins.



The site featured some nice waterways.

With the light fading fast, we finally made it back to Cusco. That wasn't the end of our tour de ruinas, however. We later went to visit a site just minutes from our hotel in Cusco. It overlooks the city and is known as Saqsaywaman, or "Sexy Woman." Just to be clear, that is not a translation -- only a phonetic approximation. This site more than likely served as some sort of fort because it has excellent views and is heavily fortified.



"Sexy Woman" sign.



The stones, like those at M.P., are carefully fitted together.



Here, Bernie's sitting in a "throne" on the opposite side of the parade grounds at Saqsaywaman.



One of the most impressive things about Saqsaywaman is the size of her *ahem* boulders.... Archaeologists still wonder how the Incans were able to position such massive stones.



Llama butts.

We were able to visit many of these sites because we purchased boletos turisticos, or tourist tickets. Our tickets also gained us entry to a dance and music presentation in Cusco. Costumed dancers performed various cultural numbers to live music. Although I'm not quite sure they were the best of the best, the dancers were at least entertaining.



Peruvian cowboy dance?



Same dance.



This freaky masked-man is performing a dance number in which the men actually whip each other. We could hear the whips whistling through the air and then cracking against the men's legs. Very sado-masochistic.

Okay, that's it for now -- I hope you enjoyed your tour. If I do not post another blog in the next week or so, feel free to send me harrassing emails. I will be more likely to blog if people bug me about it.

Where's Waldo on RAGBRAI XXXVI??

Okay, this post is going to need a bit of explaining for those of you who have never witnessed or participated in RAGBRAI. RAGBRAI is the Register's Annual Great Bike Ride Across Iowa. It occurs the last full week of July each year. Approximately 20,000 cyclists participate. The route changes every year, with an average of about 500 miles covered. This year's ride was shorter (471 miles) but hillier (22,000 feet of climb) than most years'. Certain towns are designated as overnight host communities, and all 20,000 cyclists set up camp on every bit of open grass available unless they are lucky enough to score a host family willing to lend them a bed or some air-conditioned floor space. This is a catch-all type of bike ride because it is not a race. You see serious cyclists and serious beer drinkers; 8 year-olds and 88 year-olds; teams consisting of hundreds of riders and loners in a sea of 20,000 other riders; Iowans galore and people from every other state and many other countries; unicycles, bicycles, tricycles, hand-cranked cycles, tandems, even rogue roller-bladers. RAGBRAI is the oldest and largest state ride. RAGBRAI week is pretty much the best week to be in Iowa -- ever.



The 2008 RAGBRAI route and logo.



You're never the first, you're never the last, and you'll never get lost. There are always bikers as far ahead of you and behind you as you can see.



The towns get pretty crowded, too.



Iowa's not flat, but it's not the Andes, either. Most of the hills were negligible, though Day 2 was the 11th hilliest day in 36 years of RAGBRAI.



A unicyclist. I think that's Mike's challenge for the next time we do RAGBRAI.



A lot of families ride together like this. I saw one train of 5 this year. I also saw a kid and a dad pair, and the kid's sign said "does all the work," but he was asleep with his hands on the handlebars, his feet on the pedals, and his helmet resting on the crossbar in front of him. Aww...

The teams are a fun aspect of the ride. Some, like ours, consist of a small group of family members or friends. Others are associated with geographic locations or clubs. There are even some very large operations that recruit from around the country and only really come together for this one week. A lot of the teams have "pimped out" buses, and most have t-shirts or jerseys with funny slogans and clever names. Some teams get really into the crazy RAGBRAI spirit and choose to dress up.



I'm not sure if this is team "Dairy Air" or another cow team, but they get really into it. Their bikes, their bike shorts, and even their hair-dos are cow-spotted.



Here's a duo from team "Pie Hunters," in which every member sports a representation of their favorite kind of pie on their helmet. Little old ladies along the RAGBRAI route make the best pie. My favorite this year was a strawberry/rhubarb a la mode!



"Team Bad Boy" is a bit insane. They probably carry more gear than anyone else on the ride, but it's hardly bike-related gear. This rider has a bar on the back of his bike. Another team member had a generator and another had a grill. Ouch!



"Team Tutu" has been around a long time.



An Iowa City team.

I've always liked to play dress-up, so of course we needed a team name that would justify some fun costumes. [By the way, "we" are Mike and I, my sister Kristen and her husband Josh, my brother Nick, my Dad, my Mom (our support driver), and my Aunt Jan (for the last two days).] Josh came up with a clever team name that we almost went with: The Cherry-Poppin' Brady's. You see, newbies on RAGBRAI are commonly referred to as virgins. Since my entire family has done RAGBRAI before, our only virgins were Mike and Josh. We popped their cherries. Although this was a fun team name we ended up going with Team Where's Waldo? instead. Everyday a different person on our team dressed up as Waldo and got lost in the sea of bikers. Everyone else dressed up according to our theme of the day. Over the course of the week, Waldo went to the beach, the office, the pirate's cove, Hollywood, the rodeo, the rock concert, and the jungle. Everyone on the team had a "license plate" attached to his or her bike so that other riders would know to look for Waldo. It was a kind of fun game and we got a lot of people to play along. On the day my Dad was Waldo he was interviewed by a journalist. The following day we got a headline in the Register. Check out the article.



My license plate the day I was Waldo.



Team Where's Waldo ready to set out on day one: Where's Waldo at the beach?



Rodeo day, with Aunt Jan as Waldo.

I think I've given you a decent amount of background info, so I'll now focus on giving you a few more photos from the week.



Iowa has a lot of barns.



A lot of pigs, too.



But I bet they hope not to end up here. Mr. Porkchop is a RAGBRAI legend...not that I've ever even eaten there...



Beekman's is a RAGBRAI staple, too. They make the best ice cream!



I probably don't even need to mention that there's a lot of corn in Iowa -- that should go without saying. I think Mike and I each ate an average of 2 cobs a day.



Whoa...



Sweet paint job!



Booooo! Pussies!



A two-headed cow preserved through taxidermy.



"I feel pretty, oh so pretty."



Dad, Kristen, and Josh participate in a frozen T-shirt contest.



Unfortunately, RAGBRAI is not without its accidents. I didn't hear of any fatalities this year, though, and the ambulances are always quick to arrive on the scene.



A fun roadside decoration.



Iowa scenery.



More Iowa scenery.



One town originally populated by Danish immigrants served up some kind of pancake ball for breakfast.



The same town had a pretty neat windmill.



More bars in more places....



Mom and Dad at the ISU botanical gardens.



A butterfly took a ride on Mom's shoe at the botanical gardens.



The headliner for entertainment in Ames was Styx. Apparently we missed a Lance Armstrong speech on the same stage a bit earlier in the evening. Lance rode one of the days this year, but team Livestrong had 100+ members riding.



This is Kathy, and her dog Miss Joey. Kathy and Miss Joey have been doing RAGBRAI for years, but I never realized before that she was riding a Bike Friday (you know, like the folding bikes Mike and I own). Mike and I met Kathy and talked to her for some time this year. She's eccentric and interesting, and Miss Joey is quite the award-winning pooch. Joey even has her own web site.



The chiquita banana tricycle was pretty cool -- especially when it was shooting down a hill.



Believe it or not, every single port-a-potty I went into over the course of the week was surprisingly clean and fully stocked with toliet paper. Once, though, the guy in the unit next door was playing "Guess where I am" with the person at the other end of his walkie-talkie. He proceeded to make some rather disgusting noises, so I bet the other person figured it out.



A RAGBRAI-style watering hole.



After biking 471 miles successfully, my bike decided to get a flat tire while we were awaiting instructions for where to meet Mom to head home. *Sigh*

My Dad, Mike, and I finished the entire ride (Mike and I having done it self-supported), and everyone else put in a respectable amount of miles. This was my 7th RAGBRAI, and perhaps one of my favorites. Although I'm sure I won't make it back for the ride every year, I'm hooked and I know I will complete many more RAGBRAIs in years to come. You're welcome to join us next time!



The finish line.