My trip to Peru last month was a life-changing event, in many ways, (even before the earthquake occurred) and I am so happy to share these experiences – especially the fiber-related experiences in the Andes – with this larger audience.

You can see the post here:  Peruvian Knitting Quest.

(and if you are so inclined, leave a comment!)

You can read more about my Peruvian travels here.

Thank you, Intelligent Travel!  and thank you readers!

TEN balls of beautiful local alpaca for about $25. $2.50 a ball. Yeah, that was worth it. I bought three bags.

This was the only “commercial” yarn shop I found in the city – and I got this tip from one of the women working at the Center for Traditional Textiles of Cusco. The yarn that is produced by all of the spinners on the street is immediately put to good use by the family – whether for weaving, crochet, or knitting. Yarn is not seen as a profitable product – only the finished textile. Luckily I found this place, who seemed to cater to wholesalers and larger mill shops.

It was at the Pisac Market that I found the last bag of yarn, just slightly more expensive, but in a beautiful blue shade. Four bags seemed more than adequate.

The wheels in my head started turning – I needed a project for all of this yarn. I remembered the RYC Classic Alpaca collection that I picked up last fall, and my mind was racing… once I got home to Maryland, I confirmed that this yarn would be the perfect substitute for the RYC’s Baby Alpaca DK, with a little added yardage too! (and about five times cheaper than the Rowan equivalent…)

The idea of stripes immediately appealed to me, and I asked Kris how he felt about the Oxford sweater. (The colors were almost a perfect match.) I didn’t get an enthusiastic response, so I regrouped and thought that one of the natural shades would actually make a perfect Linden pullover, one of my favorite patterns in the book…

Nice, right?

…and the stripes are for me too! I do love the Oxford, so why not the charcoal and blue version for me?

I am feeling a very strong pull to this yarn – I think I just might be spontaneous and cast on with it soon… jumping over the other beautiful knits in my queue.

Which one should I cast on for?

I may have huffed and puffed a little coming up the mountain, but once we reached the top, it was all worth it!

Machu Picchu was recently named one of the New Seven Wonders of the World, and perhaps that is why the site was so crowded on a Sunday morning… I didn’t let the crowds interfere with my joy, though, what an opportunity to be in such an amazing and beautiful place!

See the llamas? They are the caretakers and the lawnmowers of Machu Picchu! After the (re)discovery of the site in 1911, llamas were used as pack animals to reach the mountain top. Once the climbers arrived, they would leave the llamas on site, and their descendants remain today.

If [when?] I go to Machu Picchu again, I would do a few things differently: 1) go earlier in the morning to avoid the heat, and the crowds, 2) wear more sunscreen. I got some burns, even after a liberal application of SPF 45. I think it was the proximity to the equator, and the altitude that made the burn more intense.

Our tour through the Sacred Valley – two days after Machu Picchu – was equally as meaningful. The Valley above Cusco, leading to Machu Picchu, is filled with little towns, and many more Incan archaeology. It was not as crowded, and the timing just seemed better. There were two highlights of that day: the town of Ollantaytambo, and the town of Chinchero.

The town of Ollantaytambo has been consistently inhabited for over five hundred years. The Incas built it, and the people there today live in the same structures and houses that they lived in. That tidbit made the site even more interesting.

I have already mentioned our stop in Chinchero, known for its textiles. The town also has some Incan ruins, and a beautiful church that has remained untouched since the Spanish came to the region.

This post concludes my Peru series – and I thank you so very much for reading and commenting! As your can undoubtedly see, Peru is a beautiful country with a rich history and diverse cultures. The Amazon and the Andes seemed like different worlds, yet they make up one country. I enjoyed each part of our trip immensely, and Kris and I are already thinking about a return trip. As you can see, this trip made a real impact on me.

Thank you for reading! I will share some souvenirs and knitting progress with you very soon

This woman sat on the steps of the Cathedral in Cusco, quietly using her hand spindle and working the roving through her fingers. She was the first spinner I saw in the city, and we had only been there for a few hours. And there were many more that we saw! As I looked around, I saw many more women, spindles stowed away in their mantas, or in their hands – ready for a free moment to make more yarn for more textiles.

The fiber comes primarily from alpacas, sheep, and llamas: these animals are important to the families and to the societies as a whole, creating fiber, textiles, a revenue stream, and even as food later. It appeared that the baby alpacas were most prized for their fleece, which is soft, warm, and water resistant. Their fleece also commands a higher price, and their spun yarns are used to support the mills, the hand knitters, and the knitting machines that produce the ubiquitous alpaca sweaters, blankets, and woven textiles all over the Andes.

While knitting, crochet, and spinning are important to the Andes, the fiber art that truly defines the culture is weaving. The traditional dress includes elaborate woven garments: a poncho for men, and a manta (cape) for women. Even young children and babies have the beautiful woven clothes!

We had the opportunity to see many weavers working with the traditional back strap looms. The most interactive place to see these weavers (and to learn about the textiles in general) was at the Center for Traditional Textile of Cusco. The Center invites weavers, knitters, and crocheters to demonstrate their work. The Center also serves as a repository for the traditions of the surrounding Andean villages: their textiles are surveyed, and the Center purchases textiles to encourage talented weavers to continue weaving and learning while earning money to support their families.

Education programs are in place to teach the importance of the textile tradition passing from one generation to the next. The Center’s education department has started organizing oral histories originally collected by the village children. The Center also encourages the retainment of the Quechua language. Each textile sold in the Center’s store supports the family that made it – and each textile has a small card with the photograph, name, birth date, and location of the weaver or knitter who made that particular textile. It is a very important tool to connect the buyer with the creator. One particular shawl stood out for me – I was amazed by it’s colors and design. When one of the weavers saw me observing the shawl, he suggested that I try it on, and we could pose for a photograph. Once I put it on, I knew that it was coming home with me. More details on this shawl will come in a later post…

There is no shortage of textiles on the streets of Cusco and the surrounding villages, but the true quality garments are harder to come by (The Center, mentioned above, has excellent quality textiles, and a few other shops do as well). There are many markets that offer up woven and knit alpaca hats, sweater, blankets, rugs, and wall-hangings. The trend in these large markets is to sell the synthetic dyed garments with non-traditional motifs. When I saw the naturally dyed alpaca, wool, and llama shop, I made sure to stop and pick up a hat. I found a lovely woven purse made from orange and brown wools at one of the largest markets in the region: in Pisac, north of Cusco in the Sacred Valley.

[More photos from the Pisac Marketplace]

It was in the village of Chinchero, well known for the quality of their textiles, that I saw two knitters. One was a young teenage boy, using his backpack to hold his skeins of yarn. He was sitting in a group with his peers, and was knitting quickly with double-pointed needles. I was not close enough to see exactly what he was working on or to photograph him. When I saw him again, he was walking down the cobblestone street. I was happy to see this young man carrying on the tradition, knitting in a public place with his friends. The second knitter was an elderly man, standing solitary on the roadside, knitting on an elaborate colorwork chullo.

Click for detail view

I had heard that knitting needles are often recycled bicycle spokes, sharpened to a fine point, and this photograph seems to confirm it. His technique is quite different from European circular knitting – he is actually purling every row in the round, working from the outside of the circular loop, not the inside. This is supposed to be “easier” and with more tension for the integrated colorwork. It is also a tradition that the working yarn is looped around the neck for added control over the tension – it is here, although hard to see. (The end ball is in the small bag near his foot on the ground). A commenter on Flickr noted that his yarn appears to be three or more threads held together. While I did not notice this at the time, it helps explain how quickly he was able to produce the colorwork for the hat.

The techniques of Andean knitting and weaving have piqued my interest, and I plan to do more research on the topic. I was chatting with Eunny about this technique over the weekend, and she mentioned an Andean Knitting workshop she had seen advertised, possibly at a Stitches event. If any of you have seen these classes offered, or have taken them yourself, I would love to hear more about it. In the meantime, I am checking out some books on Andean knitting (review to come) and I even signed up for a beginning weaving workshop this winter…

Cusco was the capital of the Inca Empire, and the Incas considered the city to be the “navel of the world”. Resting high (app. 12 000 ft) in the Andes, it was the center of the Inca “body” with roads eminating out to all reaches of the Empire (which went into Chile in the south, and into Ecuador in the north). The Spanish conquest in the sixteenth century was at the height of the Inca’s power and wealth.

…A city with such a rich history was bound to be a beautiful place…

Blue skies over Cusco

Many of the original Incan architecture was replaced by Spanish-style churches and convents, there are some remaining remnants of the Inca buildings in the city proper, most notably the Temple of the Sun, Qorikancha. The Dominicans built over the original Temple, but left one small section of ashlar stones that formed part of the original structure.

The main square of Cusco is called the Plaza des Armas. It is a large and lively city center, full of locals and tourists. There are many restaurants, shops, and museums nearby, as well as the historic Catholic churches. Every street has a high-end alpaca boutique, and Kris and I both came away with some lovely sweaters. And the food! I was slightly concerned about finding enough vegetarian foods on the road – but the Andes are the home of the potato (and a slew of other vegetables!) and there are about 800 varieties to try. Another favorite was the native grain quinoa. I was well fed in this glorious city.

The most common and notable drink in the Andes is the Mate de Coca, tea made from the same leaves as the drug, cocaine. The leaves have no effect on my mental state – but they are a local treatment for sorocha, or altitude sickness. I had a moderate case of sickness for the first twelve hours in the city – mainly characterized by nausea, headache, and shortness of breath. We took it slow, and by the next morning, I was back to normal (with the help of coca tea!)

Cusco is a city of juxtaposition: Inca culture is prevalent here, both in the material culture and the archaeological remains around the city, and Spanish influence is also strong, in the city planning and architecture. The people have found a unique balance. On the hilltops above Cusco, sit many Incan archaeological sites, the largest among them is the citadel complex: Saqsayhuaman.

[Also see the Incan aqueduct baths at Tambomachay]

Cusco was our case camp for our stay in the Andes. Each day, we had an agenda to see the sights, and each night we returned to our beautiful hotel. There are so many dimensions of Cusco and the surrounding areas that I want to share with you – next I will share a something close to all of our hearts: the Andean textile traditions!

****

Thank you so very much to everyone who has taken the time to comment on my travel / photography blog posts and Flickr. I spent many hours going through the camera’s memory cards and working with the photos, and it is so rewarding to see that you enjoy looking at them, and learning more about their context. These narratives and photographs are a part of something much bigger, a “trial run” of sorts. Your feedback is so greatly appreciated. I can’t thank you enough.

We flew into Iquitos, the Amazonian port city, from Lima.  One can only reach Iquitos by plane or boat, as there are no roads constructed through the rainforest in those sections.  The city of Iquitos is a wonder in itself – there are very few cars there, the main transportation being motorcycles and motorized rickshaw taxis. Iquitos gained popularity during the Rubber Boom of the late 19th century.  Many European countries influenced Iquitos’ style and architecture.

Our time in Iquitos was short; we set out on the Amazon River aboard the trusty Tucunare, sailing upstream for about 12 hours to the Amazon tributary, Rio Orosa.  Our boat’s passing seemed to be the day’s entertainment:

The children were very friendly and waved at us from the banks of the river. There are many small villages up and down the Amazon – the river is their lifeblood. 

We neared one village – near the intersection with the black silt river, Rio Napo – and we spotted something I had been dying to see:  the Amazon River Dolphins!  It was nearly impossible to photograph them as they bobbed in and out of the water.  They were quite playful and came very close to the boat.  The adults are pink, and the younger ones are gray. 

We reached the Madre Selva Field Station after dark.  We had nice facilities:  a tent, a “lab”, and even some toilets (I was prepared to “rough it” but was pleasantly surprised).  We used the field station as a base camp, venturing out by canoe, skiff, and on foot.  We took hikes everyday, and that is when we saw and collected some amazing creatures. [Kris's Flickr page is the repository for all the critters - he got some amazing shots, and he is still uploading many of them - including frogs, lizards and snakes.  Please look if you get the chance - also see Kris's blog!]  There was a 50- foot tower for canopy observations, and a number of amazing trees on the property.  I thoroughly enjoyed our stay at Madre Selva.  The company that we worked with has a high code of ethics, and works closely with the indigenous populations for sustainable economic growth.  The owner of the company is a trained field biologist/ecologist and can identify many a creature by their calls.  The group was small, only 8 people, so we got a very intimate experience with the rainforest. 

One of the true highlights of my stay at Madre Selva was the barter market and visit day at the nearby village of Comandancia.  We took the small skiff boat up to the village, and met many of the people, traded goods with them, and got to see their homes, their livestock, and their way of life.  The village chief, Manuel, showed us the traditional dress of his tribe (the Yagua). This village visit made an indelible impression on me. 

Our trip to the Amazon was a very reflective time:  I kept copious notes – sometimes 15 pages a day – about the sights, sounds, and feelings of the rainforest.  Despite the heat, the humidity, the clothes that never truly “dry”, the mosquitos, the ants, it was the most amazing experience I have ever had.  I learned more about myself, and the people in the world.  I am already thinking about a return trip…

We took hundreds of photos, and you can see a slideshow of the Amazon photos on Flickr (about 120 photos represented).  Please comment or email me if you have any questions – I would love to share more with you!

Before the big rumble, however, we had the best vacation of our lives. Trying to sum it up in a blog post (or a couple) is nearly impossible. I can share photographs and a few anecdotes, but the truth is, it was more amazing than a two-dimensional picture… so much more.

Kris and I flew to Lima, Peru, via Miami, Florida. We got in around 4:30am, and decided to catch a few “zzz”s before we got a little tour of Lima. We stayed at a little hotel near the airport, and had a “traditional English breakfast” (bread, butter, and tea). Around 10am, our tour guide, Rosario, picked us up and we got a whirlwind tour of the capital city.

The Plaza des Armas is the large square in the middle of Lima. On the square is the Presidential Palace, and just off the square was the highlight of the day: the Catedral de San Francisco.

It is quite lovely, yes, but what’s underneath is even more interesting…

The catacombs! The bones were arranged by archaeologists who found approximately 20,000 different bodies (or fragments) under the cathedral’s floors. The wealthy people in Lima would pay the Franciscans a high price for this burial (even though there were remains were not kept in tact) during colonial times. Some of the remains date back to the 17th-century.

Girl and pigeons outside of the cathedral

Lima is the layover city – you have to go through to get to any other city in Peru. It is not the most appealing city in some ways: it is “always overcast”, according to our guide, and never actually rains. A sort of smog just sits over the city. However, there are some pretty places in the gray city: Miraflores is the Pacific-coast neighborhood, well-known for its Parque del Amor… you can guess where it got that name.

El Beso (The Kiss) by Victor Delfin

…We felt inspired…

**If you wanna see the pics before I blog about them,
check out my Flickr page!**

Tomorrow: AMAZON!

Excerpted from my Peru Travel Journal, pgs. 107 – 114:

8/16/07 – 10:04am
A few minutes can change a life. And a few hours of reflection on those minutes can influence even more…

Kris and I sat in the food court at the Lima Airport for four hours – he was reading a paperback novel, and I was diligently knitting on my scarf. I took a few breaks to buy water, go to the restroom, and Kris read on, sitting with our two suitcases and our backpack. I told him that I was planning to call my parents around 6:30 [Peru time] because I knew that they would be finishing up dinner and ready to talk. Around 6:15, I headed to the international communications center in the Lima Airport. I initially had a problem connecting, but finally reached my mother on the second try. We talked for awhile, and she handed the phone to my dad – I was telling him about the amazing geology of the Andes [he is a geologist] and about some of the animals we saw in the jungle. We made plans to get together on Friday night to share stories and some downloaded photographs. He handed the phone back to mom and I told her about adventures in the Amazon… time was flying by and there was so much to say.

The first rumble came around 6:39, and it did not completely register in my mind what had actually happened. I continued talking to mom, thinking it was a hurried landing of one of the large jets on the tarmac. Then I began to hear some screams, and I realized right away what was happening. My small telephone cubicle was completely glass, and I yelled into the phone “Oh my God, mom! Mom, I think it is an earthquake!! I have to go -” and I quickly looked around to see all of the other people beginning to scream and run out of the doors to the large structural pylons marked with a large S – for Seismo – meaning that they are strong enough to hold up through an earthquake. There were two pylons outside the door of the center, and I ran for the far one with less people. There were many small children huddled around the base, and I reached for the top of the pylon, holding on with my hand. The quaking did not stop. I figured (like we all did, presumably) that it would be a small tremor and over in a matter of seconds. Yet, it went on and on – what felt like minutes. I don’t remember what I heard, but I saw a policeman with a reflector vest come and begin to usher people toward the stairs. Many people began to scream and panic. A mob moved towards the stairs. An elderly Catholic nun was moving very slowly in front of me, and I feared that she would be trampled. I grabbed her hand and put my other hand through the crook of her arm. I hurried her down the stairs as I felt the brunt of the crowd behind me, pushing forward and forward to the doors of the airport. We were halfway down the flight of stairs and the quake was still rumbling, almost a visible wave in the air. Ceiling tiles and sheet rock began to fall from the ceiling, and the screams grew louder. As I held the small Sister, we rushed under the large electronic marquee, which was swaying and knocking dust and sheet rock onto the floor. I was so scared it was going to fall. We quickly rushed out of the doors of the airport away from the large glass facade.

Outside the doors, it was a sea of screams and cries. I looked over and saw one of the ceiling tiles fall onto a man, but he kept on moving. It appeared to hit him on the shoulder. It was not until we were outside that the earthquake actually stopped rumbling.

I stayed surprisingly calm, thinking that Kris, who was in the food court (while I was in the call center) would be out any second. The two locations were not that far from each other, and I thought the main doors would be the best exit for everyone. I scanned the huge crowds of people for his light brown hair and orange jacket. More people streamed out of the building, becoming more and more hysterical. Still, Kris did not come. Panic did not set in yet. I paced up and down the bus lanes on the street and went back to wait near the doors. Realizing that an aftershock could happen, I moved away from the structure and stood on a curb about 5 meters away from the door.

I saw a woman in a wheelchair and immediately recognized that she and her family had been seated at the table next to ours in the food court. I ran to her and blurted out something about “the man in the orange jacket- table next to you – reading a book”. I could see that they did not understand me. I attempted to repeat the key words in the little bit of Spanish that I knew. Hombre – tabla – libro and using hand signs to fill in the rest. There was some recognition and a nod from the mother, but then my voice broke and the tears started flowing. The young daughter stepped forward, probably about twelve years old, and looked up and nodded, saying “the table”. I said “my husband”, touching my heart.

The mother was speaking so quickly that I could not understand her at all. She grabbed my hand and lead me further away from the building. The woman looked at me and said many things that I did not understand. Then, I thought I heard her say “Deutsch?” and she repeated it. I said “Deutsch? Jaja!”. Finally, we could communicate! She said she saw Kris, the man with the orange jacket and that he was okay. The daughter held my hand and began stroking my arm. I was beginning to get quite nervous, as I could not see him anywhere. The daughter also spoke German, and I could understand her much better, since her mother had a very thick Spanish accent in her German. I was breathing deeply and wringing my hands, both from the cold night and the nerves. I looked at the girl and asked her name. “Meine name ist Rosara.” she said. She held my hand tightly and said “Wir suchen” [we search]. People were yelling and screaming the names of their missing family. One woman was screaming at the top of her lungs, making herself hoarse.

Rosara continued to hold my hand as I described Kris. Er tragt eine Orange Jacke. Brün-Blonde Haare. I could not remember all of the descriptor words, and I was mixing English, German, and Spanish, trying desperately to be understood. She nodded and repeated. I wrote down Kris’s name on a small note paper and she took the paper to the policewoman near the entrance. She came back to me translating what the police woman had told her: everyone was out and safe, but the other side of the airport was evacuated to the tarmac and landing strips behind the airport. “Er is gut. Esta bien. Okay. Alles in Ordnung. No nervous”. The more she repeated the words, the more I began to believe it. We just needed to wait. He was fine – he was just on the other side. I briefly thought of our bags and all of the things there, and that did not matter at all. I thought of my mom and how scared she must be. I did not care about anything else other than finding Kris, knowing that if we were together, it would be okay.

Up and down the street and my knees were wobbly. No sign of him and I felt faint and weak. Rosara steered us to the curb and we both collapsed there, watching the people around us. She rubbed my arm and told me that she was here to pick up her uncle who is coming from Germany for a visit. Her stepfather is German, and she grew up learning the language with him. She told me how the earthquake had shook all of the windows in the food court, not breaking them but visibly shaking them, and how the policeman grabbed her grandmother’s wheelchair and yelled that the elderly were the first ones out. All of the other people were told to go out the back door. She reassured me that Kris was okay, and we just needed to wait. I told her about the nun, and about the phone call to my mother. She told me that her older sister had called and was on the Metro in Lima, waiting to get out, and that some glass windows had broken on the train. I thanked her a million times. “Danke, du hilfst mich“. She told me that earthquakes in Lima are common, but not as long and as big as this one.

We sat on the curb for a long time, watching the people, hearing the sirens, and seeing the disaster crews move into the airport. They were wearing hard hats and looking for anyone still inside the airport. I did not see any injured people, but I did see ambulances. People were huddled in small groups as the wind was whipping up and sending a big chill through everyone.

Standing up to search again, we walked down the long path looking for a sign of Kris. We made the same rounds as before, dodging the taxis, and motorcycles on the streets. This time I heard “LAUREN!” and I looked to see him standing on a curb not too far away. I melted completely, running through the crowd towards him. I grasped Rosara and we ran toward him. I didn’t let go of him for a whole two minutes. “I was SOOOOO scared.” I looked down and he had all of our bags – two large suitcases, my backpack and even my small knitting project. He had the foresight to grab it all and run, calling up some reserve of strength that I did not know he had. I hugged him over and over and told him about Rosara and how wonderful she was. I held Rosara in an embrace and kissed her face, thanking her in every language I could think of. She had kept me calm and quiet, and she was so strong herself for her young age.

I held Kris and did not let go. I saw a young teenage boy next to Kris, and he explained that he had been separated from his parents, but had just found them after searching. I saw the group of nuns, reunited, but was not sure which one was the one I helped on the stairs. Rosara walked around, and came back to say that she had been separated from her family. She had a cell phone and was trying to call them, but the satellites were completely down and phone service was out. She sat down on the curb with Kris and I and we huddled together. I wrapped my scarf around Rosara, who was only wearing a cotton shirt. Kris pulled out a red flannel blanket from the backpack, and we shared it. As we sat there, we felt a very brief aftershock, only lasting a second or two. Rosara finally got through on the cell phone and found her mother on the other side of the parking lot away from the structures. She learned that her sister was fine and everyone in the Metro train was also okay. I hugged and kissed her again before she left to be with her family on the other side of the street.

Nearly two hours had passed since the quake, and my emotions had run the complete gamut: fear, shock, sadness, and finally elation and thanksgiving. Kris told me his story, and he had been surrounded by kind people as well. Everyone came together so well in the crisis. Language barriers did not matter at all. As we talked to other people around us, we heard more and more stories. The nuns that Kris had been with on the other side of the airport came over and hugged and kissed us, giving us many blessings.

The airline and airport crews came together so quickly. They had been well-trained to deal with disaster recovery, and the airport was up and running again within three hours. The backup generator and computer systems allowed us to have flight manifests, and we were able to check in right away. I was wary to go back into the building, knowing that there would be more aftershocks.  The next few hours were a blur of standing in queues for immigration, passports, and police control. Each desk stamps something and send you to the next queue.   We felt like zombies, and rumors of the damage started to flow in. There was so much speculation about what had actually happened and how big the quake had been. The news is reporting an 8.0 on the Richter scale at the epicenter, and lower outside. Lima’s magnitude seems to have been in between a 6 and a 7.  Our flight did take off about three hours later than anticipated.  I tried desperately to get to a phone or a computer, but all of the lines were busy, and the main power grid was down.  I wanted to let my mom know we were alright.   It was not until we reached Miami the next morning that I was able to call her.  She said she had been talking with Kris’s mom all night, and they had been praying and watching the news.

The earthquake’s severity seems to be worse at the south of the epicenter. The towns on the southern coast of Peru have sustained much damage, and many people have lost their lives. My heart aches for them. The Peruvian people are so generous and hospitable, and I am so sad that this tragedy happened to this beautiful country.

~My sincere thoughts and prayers to the people of Peru~

Posting will resume soon, and I will share some of the amazing experiences I had in Peru, along with some great photography. Thanks again for your emails and comments. It is so heartwarming to see how much you all care.

By the time you read this, Kris and I will be in the Andes seeing the sites of Cuzco, the Sacred Valley sites of Pisac and Ollantaytambo, and Machu Picchu.

Before we left, I searched for some quality photographs of Peru. I found many on Flickr:

• Sacred Valley Set
• “Rooftops of Cuzco”
• Handcarved chess set at the Pisac Market
• Archaeology at Pisac
• Ruins at Ollantaytambo

I hope to have some great shots of my own upon return… lots of llamas and alpacas shots to come, I am sure

This is my Peru library; I have been collecting for a few months now, and I have learned a great deal about the country. I feel relatively prepared for this trip, although slightly nervous because my Spanish is not quite “up to par”. I know I have been talking about this trip for a long time, but I think it is because it is one of the most adventurous things I have ever done! Kris found out about this small eco-tour company that specializes in sustainable economic growth and Amazonian nature education. From the very beginning, the staff has shared all sorts of information with us, and they have been amazingly attentive. They offer several tours a year, and after some compromising, we signed up for the Photography Tour. The leader is a professional nature photographer, and was a curator at the Dallas Aquarium for many years. Kris is hoping to do some native fish collecting and identification in the rivers, and I am hoping for some great photography opportunities in the jungle. I even teased that I would not mind seeing an anaconda, as long as it was not close enough to eat me. The tour is based in and around Iquitos, Peru. We will be staying at field stations along the Amazon (hammocks and mosquito nets!) and doing long hikes through the forest. We are very excited about this dramatic change of pace – both of us sit in front of computers for our daily jobs!

After one week in the Amazon, we are extending our trip to the Andes mountains, in the southern part of Peru. We will be staying in Cuzco, but traveling by train to Machu Picchu, as well as many other Inca sites. Cuzco has a rich textile tradition – spinning, weaving, and knitting all have a respected place. I am thrilled that I will be able to witness these traditions first hand! As you can imagine, I am hoping to find some alpaca yarn to fit in my suitcase on the way home…

Our trip will start and end in the capital city of Lima – it is the hub of airline travel, but also a great destination in itself. I heard there are some great restaurants there!

I will be keeping copious notes in my journal, and documenting heavily with my camera! I have also queued a few entries to post while I am gone, so feel free to check back!

So… I say adios for now…