Leaving Sucre, on a panic

The morning to hop on uyuni bound bus. I was suppose to wake up at 5:40am to catch bus at 7:00am at the bus station way out of town centre. I woke up at 6:26am freaking out since I was suppose to head out by 6:00am to the plaza where there would be taxis in early hours and arrive at the station by 6:30. I woke Will to help me. I chuck him 380 bolivianos (for 12 nights at the hostel) to give to the owner Mike and top it up if it's short. He carried my 13kg backpack with me outside on his barefoot for two blocks before we found a taxi already with another passenger. The taxi driver took me anyway (as it was the same direction) and got me to the station at 6:45. "Rapido, por favor! muy rapido!" I beg the taxi driver to fly over all the cars, buses, pedestrians and the traffic lights. I ran in the station with 13kg on my back, found the bus company office which they told me to hurry to the departure tax office then go to the gate. They were loading up luggages by the time I got to the bus at 6:50, almost everyone was in the bus already. I freakin' made it. What an intense 24 minutes...

goodbye pretty sucre

good bye pretty white cathedrals

good bye beautiful culture

and good bye my lovely haggle heaven public market

Learning buddy Sean

He's one of the students in my spanish school. His classroom is next to my classroom. The classrooms are cold without heating so we all like to chill out under the sun on the balcony at recess. It's the only spot with sunshine. We can feel every pore and every inch of skin thanking us for the sunlight and warmth.

He just finished university and decided to live in Bolivia for couple months to learn Spanish and then travel around South America. His homestay parents are the spanish class owners. The apartment is beautiful. He has the whole 2nd floor for himself with private washroom, view tower and balcony with entire view of sucre. The entire complex has German school, salsa dance room, pub, and hostel. It also has private garden with tree house and hammocks. This dude probably had the best living condition in the entire sucre foreigner population, on just 60 bolivians a day.

At the pub's oktoberfest, there was a show of hot bolivian girls...

"this is awkward..."

"i don't know if it's them feeling more awkward with mini skirts or us feeling more awkward watching..."

"hahaha"

"but we (boys) all can't help ourselves but stare...."

At recess...

"where you heading?"

"empanadas"

"i'm so hungry, ill go with you"

At the empadana shop

"uno pollo empanada por favor."

"uno mas"

"mmmm mmmmmm mmmmmmm soooooo goooooooooood"

"this is damn yummy."

salsa class

"this is so awkward."

"yeah, way too intimate."

"i'm gonna rest, you take care, the girl over there has been starring at you since the beginning."

"you're not gonna protect me?"

when we all got tipsy...

"i'll let you in on a secret.."

"oooooo.... spill the beans!"

"the teacher who cornered youri last weekend? it's my teacher."

"WOWWWWWWWWWWW"

"i know."

we like to sun tan at mid morning

Youri and the godfather police

Youri youri youri. It's strange, we only hung out for a couple days but we got along like old friends.

"Hi, I'm Youri."
"Oh hey, I like your purple pants."
We met at a mutual friend's dinner gathering.

Then a couple days later, we met again at a cafe.
"Last night was scary, I got cornered by a girl"
"You what?"
"at the oktoberfest, thankfully my teacher protected me."
"how? what...WHAT?"
"it was so close..."

Youri is Dutch. He's easy going, funny and shares his personal gossip like it's someone else's. He always wears purple pants. The locals love his purple pants, it's so fashion forward, they find him crazy attractive. He is on a 6 month long virginity spell. A nun, pretty much.

"my friend got robbed and lost his camera yesterday. I'm accompanying him to the police office for the 4th time..."
"oh, that sucks"
"the tourist police speaks like the godfather."
"please take me with you, I'll be the entourage."

The camera, as we all know, will not be retrieved. The police didn't care for the car plate number or the style of the camera. It's how it works here. The only thing you can do is to get a police written report of the incident for the insurance company. We walked to the edge of central Sucre, entered the fenced police building with chilled out gunned guards. The place was so old and run down. We walked to the end of the hallway and turned into the last office. The window glasses are broken. There's weird drapes of textile hanging at one side which created a private space behind the drapes. The tables and chairs looks as if they were collected from a dump garage. I would not want to be here for any other reasons other than meeting this godfather police. We giggled and smiled when godfather came out. He's a short moustache man resembling nothing of don carleon but his low husky voice was, without any effort, the legendary godfather voice, but in Spanish.

meeting godfather this afternoon...

Bolivian baby girl's birthday party

It's Louisiana's birthday party the morning after Oktoberfest. Sleeping at 6:30am, failed to wake up to meet Sara at 9:30, waking up at 10:30 then making it to Breta's house by noon. Thank goodness the tradition is to be late by an hour or two. Red prepared mini sausages, grilled chicken and chips with avocado and salsa dips. There was a clown blasting out one particular song repeatedly, there was probably close to 20 kids and 10 adults. They all gathered under the tent in the centre courtyard watching the clown playing games with the kids. The kids were well behaved sat on the small chairs and the adults sat around the side over watching the craziness. The clown played numerous games and magic (repeating that single song on the player) then gathered the host family up for slicing the disney princess cakes and showering the kids with princess pinata full of colourful candies and toys.

This is by far the most local involved event I've participated in Sucre. How in the world would I know I'd be going to a 2 year old birthday party on Sunday morning hungover with a big bag of diaper present.

Louisiana with my glasses

house dog boss chilling under the chair

mom dad louisiana and grandpa with clown

massive disney princess pinata explosion at the end

Strolling with chef Red

Chef Red lives with a Bolivian family. He's a professional chef from Australia. He studied Spanish in Bolivia then travelled around south america then eventually went back to settle in Sucre, Bolivia.We met briefly at the Oktoberfest party and eventually became friends by multiple mutual friends. 

Sarah and I got invited by Red and Simon to their place for dinner. He cooked pork belly with potato and beet salad. The pork belly was simply done with crunchy skin and fatty juicy meat paired with a scoop of mysterious yummy sauce. Baked potatoes were seasoned simply, keeping all the natural flavours. Beet salad was just a surprise, I haven't seen these for the longest time since travelling. YUM YUM YUM. This guy is freakin' talented. 

waiting... waiting....

fooood food food fooooood

On a sunny afternoon, my second last day in Sucre, Red and I met up for a walk. We met at Plaza 25 de Mayo. Sitting on the bench. Observing people, talking with a mom and kid at the next bench. We wore sunglasses and hoodies, it's those breezy sunny day.

this fell in front of my face. pretty little hurtful things... 

We walked away from the plaza, going towards the big park. Passing the parliament, supreme court, opera house, universities and libraries... We bought ice creams from the little shop near the entrance to Bolivar Park. Unpasteurized milk ice cream with an expresso shot poured over. SO YUM. Milky and coffee-ie. So simplistic and so simple. We happily walked down the long park, passing by people picnicking, dating on the benches, teenagers chilling out under the tree. The park is surprisingly organized and well maintained. It's beautiful and elegant. 

He is entertainingly honest. In fact, our first meeting goes like this,

"do you know that girl?"

"yeah, she's from my hostel"

"she is so hot, help me out, i want to meet her"

"okay"

We found a bench at the end of the park, across the old rail station. Red told me about his trip around south america. Every location and every story evolved around meeting a girl. He even shared the phone numbers he got the night we all went out dancing. The follow-up phone calls and texts. 

"that girl with crotches was really hot"

"crotches in the club?"

"yeah, she couldn't run or hide"

"that's how you got the phone number"

"yes"

"you know that he was hitting on you that night?"

"what?"

"you are slow"

"yeahhh..."

"i want to open a club at the abandoned gas station"

"that sounds awesooome."

"don't tell anyone though"

"let's walk, i'll show you the mini eiffel tower"

plaza Libertad

bench talking at Parque Bolivar

Learning español with Estephanie

"Did you study Jenny?"

"Why didn't you do your homework?"
"Oh my Jenny, why are you out everyday?"
Repeatedly was I butchered by Estephanie. She is a really great Spanish teacher. Knowledgeable, humorous and friendly with students. We had one on one 4 hours classes in the morning for ten days.

"Pan fried the rice in the pan before cooking in the pot. It's way better."
She provided cooking tips because the altitude is high so the ways to cook things are different.

"You should eat more papaya, it's good for health"
She listen to my health problems and give honest advices. :)

"Go to the restaurant down the road to the left, their 3 course lunch meal is delicious."
Estephanie knows I love food so she told me all the yummy food in town, while avoiding burning the wallet.

"You're going to the party tonight right? I'll see you there. Let's dance."
She's young and energetic. She party and enjoy socializing with students.

we like to study on the patio under the sun

the sentence making session 9am in the morning

smiling in the school

spanish school!

Gringo's Rincon Gang

Gringo's Rincon is one of my favourite hostels. It's a colonial old building turned hostel with a large wooden door.The kitchen is small, no television, no hang out lounges, there's only three showers, the owner is a bit of a character (he is always wearing orange gloves), and the wireless internet barely works. 

"Is this all the Gringo Rincon people?"

"No, give it another 10 minutes, more are on the way."

The people here tend to stay here for a long time, well, some like to leave but always find reasons to stay. We like to hang out in massive groups. I'll come back from the Spanish lessons at noon and find the gang playing shitface at the roof again. We join together to cook dinners. We ventured down the road for 2 for 1 drinks in the pub's courtyard. We hopped on taxis to the dodgy part of town's only local club. We jam the entire clubs and pubs full of our own and others that we snatched up. We see each other hook up with people and secretly smiles while fading away. We like to exchange gossip, about people in town and people staying here. We visits parks and cemeteries. We fight for the bottom bunks when people check out. We complain together on the crappy internet. We buy groceries off of each other. This place is crappy but nice. It made me feel better. Less homesick and better rested. 

It's usually the people we met not the places that makes good memories. But this place definitely has some kind of magic to it. 

Morning at Cafe Artigiano

Holding a small coffee in hand. The place was packed. I stood at the by the side of the seating area scanning and rescanning for a possible spot.

A guy was sitting by himself at a 4 person table. Sure he can spare a seat... I didn't bother asking as he already cleared the table, realizing he was using the only table with spare seats. Sitting down, I began reading "Watching the English". The book was smart. It detailed all the English behaviours. I got to the part where she was explaining the class systems: upper, upper middle, middle middle, lower middle and the working class. Funny, as it truly was, I laughed and smiled silently, trying not to appear as a freak. We shared a silent quiet space. It was peaceful.

"Excuse me, do you mind if I take this seat?" a professor looking man tapped me and ask to take the seat across me.

I replied, of course.

He sat down with a little pastry bag, quietly eating it. Then he brought out a stack of paper with weird symbols and began to mark them with a red pen. Continuing the quiet equilibrium, all three of us did whatever we were there to do.

Professor gazed in space for a bit then continue to bring out another booklet. This time, it was mandarin learning book. Curiously, I peek at the mandarin characters, trying to figure out whether it's traditional or simple... 95% of the time, it's simple characters, its sad, 7000 years of history is deteriorating, taking a step backwards. Couldn't figure it out though.

"Now you have the cafe all to yourself" an elder elegant lady passed by my table. She wore fury jacket and a very warm looking scarf with a punk handbag.

Not realizing that everyone left, "oh wow... I guess"

"Foubourg's macarons are deviiiiiiiiiine."
"There are so many youngsters who rather sit here for hours than being at home."
"I like to come out, it's nice to be out"
"I'm here everyday, except on Wednesdays when I work."
"If it rains on Sunday, I won't come, otherwise I'll stay here for a little longer."

This reminds me of the day we all walked in Cartegena rain.

Maurice and the art escape

Maurice, my conscious dorm mate. He’s skinny, dark, curly short hair, carries a guitar and always wears crazy colour pants. He’s a law student teaching English and hopes to work in San Paolo while studying music. He’s Italian German Brazilian mix, which, ironically, makes him look Indian exotic.

The museum was empty, obviously not the main tourist spot. The place is a little oasis in this crazy town. The staffs turn on the lights and we began the private tour. The house was Victorian with spinning staircases and massive chandeliers. It housed 3 stories of pure local Bolivian artworks in multiple art forms and styles. Oil, portrait, impression, collage, metal, steel, sketch, acrylic. I was surprised.The talents, the insights, the suburban lifestyles, the revolution, the heroes, the dreams. It showed us the different faces of Bolivia and the love Bolivians have for their home.

As we walked out, the noise resumes. We found a corner coffee shop to sit and stare out the window. We observed the pedestrians while the empty café’s staffs were observed us. 

Unfortunately, at the time of this, I was going through a put-away-the-camera phase. No photos.

Surviving La Paz wild rover 1.0

Wild Rover hostel. Where do I start... The people here are crazy. The staff and the backpackers equally.

My 16 person dorm room was huge, the washrooms are clean and the food at the built in bar is legitimate. There is booking agency right inside the hostel, laundry services, security locks, 3 patios and gated entrance with security guard 24-7. Sounds pretty great right?

Most people hang around the bar, around the pool table or the CNN plasma tv. The bar serves alcohol starting 10am to 1am non-stop. Don't worry, the party doesn't stop there, we all relocate to the preplanned club destination.

My dorm room was 10 steps away from the bar and 1 wall apart. We can hear every shot drank, every strike at the pool and to our utmost pleasure, every pop music played. "WILD ROVER!!!!!!!!!" is the tradition before everyone chucks their shot, which is heard throughout the day. Dorm mates (and strangers) go in and out of our unlocked dorm room, shouting, chatting, searching for stuff, singing, and doing private shenanigans. The staff invite themselves in with a bottle of liquor and yells "WHO WANTS A FREE SHOT??" at midnight. No shit.

Stumbling to the bar starving, I ordered a big meaty meal. While waiting, the staffs and I started chatting. It started like this,

"Would you like something to drink?"

"No thanks, I'm weak at alcohol."

"This shot is on me." hands over a shot.

After dinner time, the bar turned into a club. Seriously, no joke. The music was blazing, the space was jam packed with people dancing. It was Pimps and Hoes night.

One staff and I went to the hidden costume room. Him dressed up in superwoman outfit and I wore Santa Clause hat and outfit with a big bling bling chain. Damn I was so weak with alcohol (I suspect it's the altitude, La Paz is 4000m)

"You want to play dice???" one staff said.

"Uh, no, thanks."

"Just roll the dice."

"Okay..."

The Dice game. Roll the dice, whoever got the smallest number buys everyone in the game a shot. So this is how I started drinking for free. The highest shots bought ever was around 60. Insane.

Wearing a santa clause outfit, I stumbled back to my bed passed out for 2 hours. The two shots of alcohol was really drank too fast.

When I managed to rejoin the party, the staff boy hoes and girl pimps were dancing on the bar while pouring free shots to everyone. At 1 am sharp, the securities kicked us out of the bar, taxis were lined up at the hostel taking everyone to a club called "traffic". Hop and squeeze, the Frenchie dorm mates, two strangers and I, we all jammed in a small taxi and headed off. With windows down, the breeze coming in, the Bolivian night  scenery passing by, the radio playing Spanish music, laughters and giggles. 

Traffic was surprisingly undoggily modern with led lights, pop music and flashy bar. The dance floor was jammed with our hostel people. Dancing the old moves, being as dorky and stupid we really are. 

Wild rover is a perfect place to meet a load of people. Travelling around Bolivia, it's normal to say...  "hey! I've seen you before.... wild rover?" and "I know that person. You're a wild rover too?". It's possible that wild rovers will be on same tours and long haul buses. It's also highly likely to get along with some and eventually travel together. Conveniences of wild rover. Just remember, while you're there, take care of the liver and remember to get out and see the city a little...

Apparently, one of two hot Asian girls got together with a random guy that night, doing it in our dorm room. Guess what happened the next day? Everyone thought I was her. "Oh! The room was dark so I thought she was you by the hairstyle. She was so loud and rowdy. They made love like no one was in this 16 person dorm room."

Great.

you foolish human beings, drain yourself in alcohol and -I- shall rule this hostel

Bolivia, please let me in!

Taiwanese needs 3 months or more to obtain a Bolivian visa, Allen was thinking of some how slipping through the border by tips posted on a backpacking website contributor. We visited the Bolivian department in Puno to just poke around which then I made sure Canadians will have no problem entering.

We bid our goodbyes. Departing, separating with my 2 week travel buddy. I was so damn scared. Carrying a big backpack, barely know anything anyone says. All I wanted was to arrive in La Paz's hostel safely. 

The bus was late for almost an hour, quickly hopping on the bus, the Romanian couple I waited the bus with finally stopped mentally torturing me with all the travel scary stories. The only comfort, to my relief, was that Bolivia was apparently the safest country to travel in South America (Do I care the authenticity of this statement? No.)

It's a 8 hour bus journey, taking the road along Lake Titicaca straight to La Paz, Bolivia's financial capital. We arrived at Desaguadero, the border town to Bolivia. Instructed to get an exit stamp then walk across the bridge to enter Bolivia's border office. The Bolivian border is heavily armed with police forces... Being happy and exited, I'm almost there, almost at safety. Turning my passport to the photo page, I handed it to the police to get an entry paper to fill out. 

"..... you are Taiwanese, where is your passport?"

"No, I'm Canadian." flipping to the cover of the passport.

"No, no, no. You are Taiwanese, you are born in Taiwan."

The Romanian couples came to my rescue, using their limited Spanish to translate

"She is born in Taiwan, but a Canadian citizen (pointing to the part that states CANADIENNE)"

"No, no, no! (finger pointing at me) I will hand your passport to my superior, we need to check if you are on the list of Canadians who can come in."

"WHAT?" I was terrified.

This town is not safe. It's well known for not being safe. If I was to get dropped off here to head back to Puno... The back of my head started planning out all the different scenarios so I can react to whatever is to come. 

Waiting around in the office for more than half an hour, while everybody is already on their way back to the bus, the back of my head start to get numb and anxious.

The bus attendee asked me "How much money do you have?"

"$20 dollars" That's all I had in the pocket of my jeans. For some reason, I didn't tell him truly how much money I had.

The officer waived me in the office full of police officers, he handed me my passport with serious look,

"Impossible. No."

The nightmare, the worst possible outcome, has presented itself. HOLY SHIT. Tears circling my eyes, I looked at him with sadness and helplessness because I knew, I KNEW it was not a problem for me to enter because the Bolivian embassy said so just yesterday. Why? WHY???

Then he suddenly smiled and said "Welcome to Bolivia" and handed me an entry paper to fill out. (you were joking with me???)

"Gracias, gracias, gracias." I hugged the officer, and everyone in the office laughed. 

They must knew, they all knew. It must not be the first time this happened. They can read the difference between Canadian and Taiwanese. Why did they make it difficult?

The Romanians simply said "They wanted bribe, wanted to make some money off of you." 

Fuck you Bolivian border police. Pick your victims wisely, why would you pick on a backpacker, a tshirt & jean girl with no make up and accessories? If you're going to operate this dirty business, do it efficiently!

Guess what? I was picked on again when a police officer entered the bus to check on everyone again. 

"Taiwan! You are Taiwanese, where is the visa?"

Tired and mentally weak to go through it again, "This is a CANADIAN passport (point) and I am CANADIAN (point)."

"Oh, really?" 

Taquile Island, homestay family

Homestay and their baby sheep

Celso Huatta, Juana Machaca and their kid Wilfredo who is 6. They live in Comunidad Quinuapata on the island and are our homestay family. Celso works with his brother to build houses on the island. Juana takes care of the family and their livestocks and makes textile works. They have a kid Wilfredo who goes to school just down the road every day. They are young and energetic yet quiet and peaceful.

Provided by Allen

Celso sits down with us at the dinner table waiting for dinner, talking about their hat culture, his family, the plants and the livestocks. He asks of our stories and families. When we could not understand each other, he picks up the thin English learning book on the floor. Flipping through it quickly, he searches for the word that would help him communicate with us. Together, we draw on paper, use numbers and physical actions to make sense of each other. Their life is simple, as it seems, though the tourists are slowly changing the life of this island. There are, though still rare, mobile phones, generators, television and even internet. The young people of the island leave for bigger cities in hopes for prosperity.

Wilfredo and I played soccer in the cold evening in the garden. He seems to be very familiar with the darkness and the cold air, it does't bother him at all. Yelling, shouting and laughing while passing the ball to each other. Allen stands by the side setting up his camera for the starry night to come. I tickled Wilfredo when I catch him and taught him turtle origami while we waited for dinner. He is an amazing child, eyes of the future.

Provided by Allen

The entire family sat down and had the meal together. Wildfredo fell deep asleep in his father warms without finishing his meal. They bid their good nights early. Allen and I went to the garden to see the infamous night sky. The sky is clear as ever, the stars are magical. My horoscope, scorpion, was clearly visible, the curve of stars lined up shining down on us, twisting its tails over the nigh sky.

The island was very very VERY cold. 4000m above altitude, with only a fleece jacket and merino cardigan. I went to bed, burying myself in 10cm thick worth of wool blankets.

Breakfast, Mana tea and perfected made pancakes.

The next day, we woke up to a lovely meal. Drinking Mana, the herbal tea Celso picked, and two pancakes sprinkled with sugar. I wrote my daily journal while Allen poked around, taking photos and cleaning up. He slowly came to me and said "Juana was crying in the kitchen." We don't know why she cried, what was bothering her or what happened. We'll never know.

Encounters at Puno

Puno, town situated by the world's highest altitude navigable lake, Lake Titicaca. The cute name and the humour sounding lake goes well together in my mind. The town doesn't have much, most travellers just come here to visit lake Titicaca.

The four person team, Gloria, David, Allen and I, after settling down at Inca's Rest (apparently the best Puno's got to offer...), we ventured out to the main drag and found the Rocketer bar on Grau street near Lima pedestrian road. This place is a backpackers hang out spot as we were immediately welcomed with "ah there's another one of us" look. The wall is full of visitor's messages, the chairs and walls were decorated with local tapestry, the lights were dim and candles were lit here and there. We took off our shoes to settle at a corner pillow area, surrounded by pillows and cushions and centred around a low table, we quickly got a pitcher of whatever the bartender suggested then started playing Jenga. 

My gosh, this is what Jenga turns to when you got aerodynamic and civil engineers at the table. First is all "let's play it the original way", then it's "Let's twist the stack a little bit!" or "Let's zigzag the stack right and left!" It then escalates to, "What if we use 3 vertical columns on the bottom to hold the rest up?" Then they decided that twisting and 3 column should be combined. Jenga never got so intense with 2 glasses of whatever alcohol the local bar punks put in that jar. 

Preston was another traveller I met at the Inca's Rest, he works for Disney cruises and playlands. He taught English online during travels, worked at the Wild Rover hostel in Arequipa and was on his way to Cusco's Wild Rover (I'll tell you how crazy that place is afterwards) We were the only people awake at 10pm so we drank beer while switching through the Spanish channels to find something we can understand  He was complaining about his dorm mate being sick and haven't gone off bed for two days and I was complaining how damn cold it is 3800m altitude. Puno gets reaaaalllly freaking cold at night, we wrapped ourselves with two layers of blanket and lay on the couches drinking beer. I was so cold that I didn't even bother unwrapping before climbing back to bed to put yet another layer of blanket...

Allen and I found another small place for drinks the last night there. Then we realized the 4 German guys sitting across us were the same group at the pizza restaurant previously. The two group awkwardly said hi to each other, as usually when you meet travellers more than once or twice, it's customary to provide a comrad "Hey". Then, Gangnam style blasted through. The Germans and us simultaneously gave each other looks of "WTF?" Then the bartenders saw then enthusiastically replied "GANGNAM STYLE!!!" WOW. Ladies and gents, we are really not that far off the map yet.

side note: the photos are not edited. the colours are real, including the ridiculous blue sky.

Lazy afternoon drinking tea with Preston and Allen by Plaza de Arms.

The Frenchie siblings

Gloria and David were staying at Cuscos Pariwana hostel. We met at the hostel's bar the night before heading out to Puno. Sitting at the same table by each other, we asked each other's name and such, the usual.

David, using his limited English, "I'm travelling with my sister. She is travelling the world, I am visiting her."

David is French, a real Parisian, studying phd in aerodynamic engineering. Shy and constantly commenting on the coldness. Ditching his first teaching class, he takes a small break to meet his elder sister up at Peru to travel together for couple weeks.

Gloria, a project manager in London, decided to quit her job to travel the world. One side of her hair is shaved and the other kept to the a bit longer. Skinny, energetic, outgoing and opinionated. Eventually the leader of the four person formation.

They were also travelling on the same bus to Puno the next day, so I introduced Allen to them. Our seats on the bus were in front of theirs.

"Where did you find that???"

Biting on a big piece of dry mango I replied, "Uh.. San Pedro market."

"My brother LOVES them. He keeps looking for them but just couldn't find it."

David looked like he needed them so I passed the bag, "Here, have some."

With his French accent, "No, no, I can't take your food."

Annoyed, "Let's swap, hand over your chocolate."

And so the deal was completed.

They decided to ditch their hotel reservation to come along with us to our Puno hostel. We hung out together till they head back to Cusco, Allen to Arequipa, and me to La Paz.

Photo provided by Allen

Shuffling in Quebec city

Driving on icy road today and suddenly Party Rock Anthem comes on the radio. The song brings me back to the night in Quebec city a little over a year ago.

Travelling solo for a week in Quebec. The hostel I stayed at was a little bit cold and unsocial, luckily I met 3 sociable American boys. They were buddies in high school, one works in government, second works in Hollywood graphics, and the last one I forget. They invited me to share their taco dinner, of course, how can I reject to food? This is how it starts...

We proceeded to obtain alcohol in the nearby shop which the staff who saw the team said "it's you guys again...". One insisted that we needed 54 canes of beer while the rest of us were trying our hardest to convince him that it meant everyone of us got to drink a dozen, which is waaaaayyyy too much. He won against all of us.

The night was so cold so we chilled the beers and energy drinks simply by lining them by the window. We drank while playing to the king's game in the dorm room (badasses because that wasn't allowed). The other game was watching mv for Party Rock Anthem and drink whenever the robot appears and Beauty & the Beast's Be Our Guest and drink whenever the quote "be our guest" is sung.  One of the boys fancies boys so by 1am we all decided to hook him up by heading out in the crazy snow to the gay club "Le Drague". On the way, we conducted a snow ball war while sliding on the icy road.

It was KARAOKE night at Le Drague. Being the only English speaking group, 2 good looking straight, 1 gay and 1 Asian girl, we were aliens. One said, "WE are going to REPRESENT". Sure thing we did, standing at the front of the stage, singing louder than the people up on the stage (horrendously off tune), hand in hand, shoulder to shoulder. The worst group of drunk tourists. Fortunately, the gay Quebecois community quite appreciate the foreigners' entertainment. The young Quebecois joined our terrible dance routine, dragged the boys up the stage and attempted to lay hands on one of the straights which we counter offered our eligible man.

There was a "Gentlemen only" mezzanine, which I manage to slip in, passing the big bull dog looking security. Up the stairs, there's statues of black men in a circle with a bath tub in the middle. Apparently, men do their business behind these statues and it all gathers in the bath tub. The hand sink water comes out from a S&M male statue sitting crossed legged, blind folded and possibly biting on a ball. The bull dog security rushed me down before I could completely take in the... unique setting. Here I was thinking Quebecois are conservative... how naive.

3 AM, we headed out, failing to find the next club, we walked down the snowy road in a line singing and dancing to the party rock anthem. Someone yelled "everyday I'm shuffling" and we all replied "duh-duh duh- duh- duh. duh. duh." Shuffling-shuffling oh shuffling. Making it all the way back to hostel in -20 Celsius.

I want your lovin' and I want it right now.

Un momento!

Riding in the taxi on endless dirt roads, there's nothing on both side, just vast land stretching on the horizon and patches of rice paddies, there's 5000m snow cap mountains in far distance of the valley, the sun is providing warmth and the wind is blowing it off.

"STOP!!!!! un momento!" 

I grabbed the camera then opened the door to run towards the sheep, donkey and cows coming our way. It's the most beautiful scene. Majestic. They move slow, placing each step firmly on the ground. They are scared but their masters hurry them off, passing the taxi, continuing the sunset road. 

Out of control, snapping shots one after another. This experience touched me. It touched me more than any of the Inca ruins. It's life. Life in its real simple form. I love this connection with nature, with all forms living on this land and soil.

The shepherd turned as he passes us. Hugging his little sheep in his arms, he turned around and smiled. He stood there smiling at us, allowing us to take a few photos of him and his lovely flock. 

I end blogs this way too much. I'm thankful for this experience. Thank you for letting us meet you, for sharing this beautiful moment and for welcoming us to your land.

an accidental angle

The travel buddy, Allen.

He taught me the first Spanish words.
He travelled with me for 2 entire weeks.
He dealt with my constant fear of darkness at night.

Allen, a scout boy spending his time in united states for the summer and then decided to take a dip in Peru before heading to Canada and eventually heading home, Taiwan. We met then quickly became travel buddies as we are doing the same stuff and get along quite nicely (mostly because he is a very chill out guy).

"Jenny, you need to get more clothes and especially, a better pair of shoes."

"Jenny, here, take my 4gb memory disk. You can return it in the future."

"Geezes, you are going to Amazon and you don't have a torch? Take mine."

"I'm thinking whether to accompany you to Bolivia, see if I can get through the border with my Taiwanese visa."

We talk about everything and anything day and night, about family, work, relationships and future directions. We talk about our loved ones, our family and their personalities. We talk about photography. We also discuss the local culture and fellow travellers we meet. He tells me his knowledge on travelling gears. I sponsor face moisturising mask and sunscreen to him. He is extremely organized with his backpack. He records everyone he meets on the journey and their background. He owns a expensive camera and carries it everywhere with him. He is a IT programmer but after seeing the IT world and spending the summer in the states, he redrafts life goals to get in the marketing field.

For the first 2 weeks of the trip, I am very, very grateful for having Allen as a travel buddy.  He helped me get through culture shocks and eventually comfortable enough to travel by myself on this unfamiliar continent. It's these encounters that makes travelling memorable and create great lasting friendship. It's hard to imagine travelling with a stranger for so long but hey, its possible.

Thanks, friend.

fooling around in San Pedro Cusco market.

Feeling blessed

On the third day of the trip,  I started feeling extremely blessed.

Blessed to have my family behind my back and supporting what I want to do

Blessed to have friends giving their horror face of "omg, please be very very VERY careful"

Blessed to have met travelling strangers to interact with

You need to be mentally strong to travel alone. There will be times you feel alone, for sure and no doubt. And thus, any warmth and love from family, friends and fellow travellers feels ultra precious.

Louise and William are the guys I started talking to in Lima's hostel. They are from San Paolo, Brazil. One is a junior architect and the other works in finance. William has better English and has a crazy manager who doesn't appreciate his hard work and thus he took a 2 week off to travel with his long time best buddy. They used their Brazilian Spanish and asked where to eat dinner then left the hostel, they came back after a minute and said, 

"Jenny, where's Jenny, ahhh, there you are! want to join us for dinner?" 

"Hey, you're leaving tomorrow right? take a taxi with us! its cheaper and safer, you're a girl, we don't mind being there a little early."  

"We'll walk with you to the shop, its safer." (even though the shop is right at the corner)

We split up in Lima airport and are all going to Cusco. We lost contact but had a strange yet super excited reunion on top of macchu picchu while hiding under a resting tent, waiting for the pouring rain to stop. 

Hugs and more hugs while talking about How I met your mother and Big bang theory (and waiting for the rain to stop)

They are funny and loving people. I will not forget them and their kindness to a lonely backpacker. 

The Australian boy, Gabe

We met at the airport going from Lima to Cusco in Peru.
Him and his female friend sat across me in the waiting benches, waiting for the gate to open and of course obviously, because we are in South America, it's "south american punctuality". I was on the fourth day of my travels and asked them to confirm that I am at the right gate going to Cusco.

"Hey, this is the gate for flight at 10:30 to Cusco right?"

"Yeah, we are on the same flight."

"Cool, where you guys from?"

"Australia, my friend is travelling with me for a month and then I am off by myself to Bolivia then Argentina."

"Really! I am on the same route as you!"

"Well, let me leave you my email, we could meet up again (write down his email on my "fuck you and your blog" journal, and I also ripped a paper out and wrote mine)"


We didn't meet up until La Paz in Bolivia, a month later.

On one of the busy intersection of La Paz's busiest tourist district,

"Gabe!"

"Jenny!"

Gabriel is from possibly the most boring town in Australia, Canberra. Finishing school recently, he decided to travel to South America to record sounds. Sound of the street, the alleyway, the wood workers, the party shouts, the bus driving by and the singing of the Amazon birds. He's an Australian DJ doing gigs for festivals and such. He is tall, slightly chubby and always carries his recorder. He spends extra money on private rooms rather than eating a good healthy meal. He sleeps for 3 days straight and parties for one big night then continue 3 days of sleeping. He stays quiet for a long duration and can not be disturbed by crap music. He gets angry at crap music, aka any mainstream music you hear on radio.