Many Happy Returns

So we're back in La Paz. I love this city. Steep streets, good coffee, tasty and cheap food. But the thing I like most is the familiarity. I've been here before. There is something comforting about going back to a place on a trip like this. It's different than going back to Nanaimo (still doubling in length every year), or Vancouver (still amazed by the Olympic venues; where did all the homeless people go?), or Edmonton (still sucky, but different somehow), or Compton (still D.R.E.).

It has a lot to do with logistics. The first place on this trip that we went back to was Lima. Upon arrival, we already knew the address of our hostel, including street intersection, and how much the cab should cost. We already knew where to get coffee, what we wanted for lunch and where to get it, and where the good supermarket is. We had been in Lima for one day previously, but that's enough. Lima became the closest thing to home up to that point.

Trust Me

I've been thinking a lot about trust the last few weeks. It has occurred to me that traveling requires a person to trust strangers more often than usual. This first popped into my head as I was hurtling down the side of a mountain on a bicycle...

Good Food, Bad Weather, PERU!

I've been putting the Inca Trail on the back burner for several years. Other things came up; no offense, Peru, but some things took priority. But with recent life overhauls it became apparent that it was time to trudge along an ancient mountain road for four days in order to visit an ancient site that is easily accessed by others via train and bus.

We ended up selecting Peru Treks, a medium-sized trekking company based in Cusco that specializes in the four day version of the trail and provides English-speaking guides. I can muddle through in Spanish but I wanted a more complete experience. The service was excellent from day negative one, as we received an extensive briefing two days before the trip. Having already hiked the Cordillera Blanca, the guide told us he expected us to be faster than everyone else. Turns out, he was right.

The least Peruvian thing we could have done

Meat. Giant piles of meat. And MTV from the Eighties.

Last night began as most of our adventures do: with the pursuit of food. The plan was to head to a place in south Trujillo called El Uruguayo, a place with a reputation for large portions of tasty barbeque. We suited up for the outing, as the weather in Trujillo is quite mild and pants were required, and caught a taxi. I started out by incorrectly calling the restaurant El Urugayano, a subtle but important difference. But I had the address so it should have been fine. That is, if Lonely Planet had done their research better.

Peru - Where is the colon on this keyboard?

After more than six years, I have returned to Latin America. The original jaunt through Nicaragua and Costa Rica in 2004 was the first real taste of my only true addiction - travel. A relatively sober period (discounting the camera addiction) in Edmonton led to falling off the wagon and a six month bender through the US and UK in 2010. But now I'm back to my travel roots - espanol, cafe con leche, and delicious, delicious carbohydrates. Bread with your rice? Yes, please.

I Suck at Blogging

The main thing about blogging is that it provides a free, easy way to regularly post updates about various things. Regularly. I may be the suckiest blogger I know. My last post was September 28. This does not constitute regularity and thus may require me to conclude that this is no longer a blog. Maybe it's more like a web time capsule. A bapsule. Hey jargon, consider yourself coined.

Anyway, I'm going to put in better effort from now on. Probably. I'll start with an incredibly brief rundown  of all the places I've been since the last post.

Washington, DC: First Impressions

Got into Washington, DC, last night. Here's the straight dope, delivered with prejudice and without authority.

Number one first impression: who in god's name let the ghost of Julius Caesar design all the buildings in this town? I mean, seriously, this is the most neoclassical thing I've ever tasted, and I once ate a big heaping bowl of neoclassicism. Nearly every building is constructed from giant, white pieces of stone. Even the new buildings are reminiscent of ancient Greece or Rome, without actually putting winged gods on the roofs. And don't get me started on the giant, raging phallus that is the Washington Monument.

Let's move on.

On Death

Someone recently asked me if I had seen a lot of wildlife while I was riding to Nashville. The answer is complicated.

Many of you have already read about the exploding deer incident in Washington. Perhaps some of you have had your own experiences with roadkill. I assure you, until you have ridden a bike for 3,000 miles along American highways, or worked in a hot dog factory, you will not have seen as much dead wildlife (wilddeath) as I have in two short months. The following is a hastily compiled list of creatures I have seen just on this trip.

Primary Objective Complete...Now What?

Nothing went wrong yesterday. No flat tires. No close calls with semi trucks. The wind wasn't even that bad. But it became absolutely crystal clear that September 1 was my last day of long distance bicycling for 2010.

Nashville had always been my initial goal. I considered other options after Nashville: Atlanta, North Carolina, Toronto (idiot), California (oh god). But the plan was always to get to Nashville and reassess. So that's what I did. And that reassessment revealed that nearly every minute of riding since Kansas City has been pure agony. Not physical agony, though. I'm stronger, fitter, and let's just admit it, sexier than I've ever been. Every day I was growing more resilient, while psychologically I was deteriorating.

Unity on Two Wheels

A funny thing happens when you get on a bike and ride for great distances: you suddenly become a member of a club you didn't know existed. The Two Wheel Club. I am now a member.

It started subtly at first. Nods and waves from touring cyclists heading in the opposite direction. Calls of "hey biker!" as I entered a Washington state park, leading to a pleasant conversation with two mildly attractive yet unavailable female cyclists. Once I hit Portland, a very bike-friendly city, the esteem I received from my two-wheeled colleagues swelled my heart with pride. A guy on a very nice, very hip fixie took one look at the load on my bike and raised his fist in a sort of Black Panther salute. As I was leaving Portland, two guys on fancy road bikes out for the day helped me plan my route to the coast. Everyone wants to know where I started, where I've been, and where I'm going.