Movie Premier: Cotopaxi Volcano Climbing!

Cotopaxi and Chimborazu Volcanos on the way to the Quilotoa volcanic lagoon

Hey guys, I finally posted my first video from my travels!  Its about my time climbing volcanos in the central Andean highlands of Ecuador. This is from early September and it all happened with my awesome group of friends: Yaron Ohayon, Pauline M Stobbs, Jasmine Heinen and Tom Goldman! They were an amazing group, and this little video is dedicated to them 100%.
       The journey is great, but its truly the friends you make along the way that make it incredible!

Here is the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=47r4sfA4Ra8

The video features video and pictures taken by me on our journey, along with music from Kylian (an underground Brooklyn artist who is featured on my "friends of this blog" list to your left...), Aloe Blacc, and some traditional Andean tunes. Take a look if you get a chance, sorry about the mediocre quality of the upload... my Cusquenian hostel doesnt have the greatest wifi connection haha.

From left to right: Jasmine, Pauline, Yaron. and Tom... A better group couldn't be found!

Lima: Street Art Hunting In No-Gringo Zones

    

           So my day started with an early morning protest going on across the street, with the long line of protesters being ushered along by Riot Police. After a cup of coffee, I went for a walk, where I encountered a political rally in San Martin Plaza. This vibrant city definitely has a loud and vibrant voice. This manifests itself in the beautiful architecture, the political protests, the striking colors of the buildings, and the amazing abundance of street art that catches the eye at every turn.

                 With these thoughts firmly in my head, I decided to go on a hunt for some of Lima's best street art in its historic center. As one might imagine, the best street art is often in the worst neighborhoods of any city. Generally the places where the people have a hard time accessing traditional means of a public voice, tend to foster the rise of street art as a way communicate their messages.                         Although I'm sure I didn't even touch a fraction of the incredible art to be found in Lima, my hunt was fun and thrilling (It literally felt like a hunt as I stalked the places, then popped out my camera for a quick shot. All the while knowing that it could get me robbed or killed in some of the areas I went to... Lots of adrenaline in this one haha). Well, please enjoy my catch of the day and leave dozens of comments!

A beautiful bulding in one of Lima's less gringo friendly neighborhoods... 

The political rally in San Martin Plaza, featuring big heads!

Plaza 2nd of May, the heart of Lima's vibrant music district, famous for beautiful blue buildings housing dozens of music stores and schools. Also not a gringo safe area.

Protests against the bullfight season that is taking place at this time.

Lima: Throwin Down In China Town

        I strolled through the characteristically chaotic streets, aiming to go nowhere in particular. Most people would probably see my slightly fast gait as a sign that I am in a hurry. In fact, its just a simple trick to avoid pick-pockets. It is far easier to notice someone who picks up speed to walk alongside you, allowing you to avoid being an easy target. No. I was really just enjoying a leisurely stroll on a fine sunny day, though one of Lima's busiest and most vibrant districts. Chinatown.

        

       During the middle to late 1800's, Chinese immigrants steamed towards the American coastline in search of abundant jobs as well as to escape the dangerous times at home. The Opium Wars and the Taiping Rebellion (a massive war involving millions of soldiers and a man claiming to be Jesus reborn) meant that hope for the future of millions lay on the shores to the east. The opportunities vanished in the U.S. with the Chinese Exclusion act in 1882, sending all those in transit to other ports along the American coastlines... One such port was Lima, where you can now find large Chinese communities, and their incredible food here as a result.

        This area, just a few blocks off the tourist rich areas of the Plaza De Armas, is one of the busiest sections of the city I have seen. I was warned against the pickpockets here by Eduardo, my Peruvian former room mate, but I faired well this day. All I had was my camera, which I used sparingly and kept firmly in my grip. The markets were an incredible display of variety, and had all the craziness you would expect of this Latin-Asian fusion neighborhood. 

       After my jaunt, I strolled through the better known financial district of old Lima in search of another legend. The Pisco Sour. This drink is made with the national liquor of Peru, Pisco, a mix of brandy and whiskey to my discerning tongue. The original bar that thought this national symbol up no longer exists, but the original recipe went to two others which still stand. My stop was the class Hotel Maury bar, where a finely dressed barman served me my drink in the cool, wood covered lounge. It was good. Even better, it was historic! After I finished, I thanked the barman and explained my quest. He pointed me to the Hotel Gran Bolivar in Plaza San Martin, where the other recipe ended up. I saved that one till later that night, but both of them were excellent of course. 

         I was feeling pretty good about my return to Lima, and I couldn't wait to really explore the city over the next few days!

          

My world famous Pisco Sour at the bar at the Maury Hotel

The fountains in the Plaza de Armas of Lima

Burning incense at a stall in Chinatown

Angels over the Cathedral of Lima in the Plaza de Armas

A silent guardian overlooking the China town markets

Peruvian Presidential guards 

The gateway to Chinatown

The beautiful colors you peek in doorways as you pass by...

Welcome to Chinatown!

Purple corn in a huge market in central Lima

Dried chili surrounded by sacks of all kinds of spices and herbs, all for sale fresh in the local market.

Mancora, Peru: Son of a Beach!

     I had finally made it to the world famous surfer's paradise, and endless party town of Mancora, Peru. Crowning the desolate north coast, this once sleepy fishing town has been swarmed in recent years by backpackers searching for the legendary waves and parties that never quit. I had booked into the party hostel, Loki, more to experience it than to partake. I'm not a big drinker, and generally prefer more relaxed atmospheres. The hostel certainly lived up to its reputation while I was there, with wild parties every night and the common areas draped by hungover backpackers every day. 

           I spent my time hanging out with an Argentinian psychology student, Exay. We walked the beach a bit, grabbed some of the 10 sole menus, and spent most of our time body surfing. The second day, we rented surfboards just to try it out. Being new to the sport, we were happy when the company let us know that the small waves were "perfect" for beginners. It was indeed perfect. Perfectly calm, with absolutely no waves. After an hour paddling out where the waves are normally abundant, and seeing we were the only ones out there, we decided to throw in the towel and accept that we had been swindled this time. 

         We paddled back into shore, but as we got close, we caught one or two baby waves. Exay was hesitant about this, not wanting to break his board in the shallows. I was frustrated by our lack of waves earlier, so I jumped on this opportunity to practice. Soon I was catching the small waves and riding them into shore with little problems, much to my delight. I saw a swell. I started paddling, and felt the rush as it caught me. I popped up and caught me balance, well on top of the wave. I'm up. I'm up. I'm down, as the wave dropped like a hammer into the beach. I was thrown from my board and heard a sickening "crunch." Knowing it wasn't me, I looked at my board. It was still attached to me, but about a third of the way down, the nose had snapped like a twig. Oh well. Thats the day for me. 

       Exay and I speculated about the costs of such damage before he kindly walked up the beach to translate for me at the shop.  We walked past all of the tourists and locals on the beach. We walked past all the bars to the shop at the entrance to our hostel. After consulting with the shop I had the honor of walking through the entire hostel full of surfers. Then across the main road full of locals and into the surf shop. It was probably one of the most humiliating walks of my life, accompanied by snickers and outright catcalls. Thankfully, an Aussie called out to remind everyone that it happens to us all. Gotta love Aussies.  The damage was less than expected, only about $40 in total thankfully.
      That was the end of my short lived surfing career on the Mancora circuit. After a few more great nights and chilled out days, I decided to book a long bus down the coast to Lima. A bus with electrical outlets, dinner, breakfast, movies, and wifi (supposedly) cost about $35. I snagged my ticket and I was on my way! Vamos al sur!

A female condor, a messenger of the sun god here in Peruvian lore, soaring over the beaches of Mancora

Fishermen off the coast

Where Peruvian boats come to die on the coast.

A lone moto-taxi looking out over the pier with its fleet of fishing boats

Moto taxis waiting to take the fresh catches from the pier to town for lunchtime ceviche (raw fish in lime juice)

Great art on the beach... a creative way to turn trash to something beautiful.

Surfers that were MUCH more successful than me... fun to watch though!

Mancoras coastline...

Lost Amazon Pics!

These pictures have found there way onto other forms of social media, but I think all of my wonderful supporters here on  "A Stone's Throw" deserve to see them too! These are all original shots, all taken by me while in the Ecuadorian Amazon.

A young group of boys preparing to dance a traditional native dance for the presenting of the spears. They are performing at a local dance exhibition

A beautiful dance from the coastal region of Ecuador. You have to rent these dresses by the hour!

Monka, an old Houarani warrior who spends his free time hunting and taking us gringos on jungle tours. Apparently he still reminisces about the days when he was slingin spears at those pesky oil men. He's 80 now. A lot has changed for him due to our civilization, I feel bad for the guy.

Headed from Cuenca to Mancora, Peru

  "Senor, I just want to buy a spare seat to Mancora, I don't want any problems." I said in Spanish, as I slowly stepped back on to the curb at the immigration office, trying to keep my (by now perfected) dopey gringo smile plastered to my face. This was a bit more difficult that usual because a man in a bullet proof vest was using his shotgun to wave me back. I called out again in decent Spanish, "Amigo, solo quiero preguntar cual es possible para comprar una silla en este bus directo a Mancora." 

He gruffly responded, and pointed his shotgun towards the sign behind me with rates to the next town, Tumbes via taxi. I usually try to be "economico" about most of my travels, but as I backed away I decided that this might be the right time to splurge $12 for a taxi. What the hell, I'm on vacation right?

        

         Don't get me wrong, Cuenca was amazing, but after a few days I had decided to leave and head south to Peru and warmth. I did my research. I saw on several travel blogs that the busses direct for Mancora only run at 7:30am and 10am. Being a gringo, I made it to the terminal with plenty of time to spare. I was just in time... to be told that the busses had changed in the last few weeks and now only ran at 10pm. Since I prefer not to cross borders at night, and I was antsy to get a move on, I decided to figure it out myself.

         I caught a bus to the border town of Huanquillas. After several hours driving through stunning mountain landscapes we descended to the banana dominated coastal plains and arrived in Huanquillas in the heat of the late afternoon sun. I decided to push on to Mancora immediately, since the soonest a direct bus left was apparently 3am. I snagged a taxi who would take me to the immigration office, where I received the usual hassel about not looking anything like my passport photo (apparently losing weight, putting on glasses, and growing a beard makes you look a bit different. Who woulda thought...). Then I went in search of a seat on a bus.... which leads me to the man with the shotgun from the start of this story.

       I ended up sharing a taxi with some Ecuadorian students who found my mishap quite amusing. We joked about it and talked about the current Ecuadorian president until we reached the terminal. From there I figured it would be an easy hop an hour down the one main road to Mancora. However, a serious official insisted that there were absolutely no busses in the history of all that was holy that went from Tumbes to Mancora. He told me I would need a taxi, but that he knew a guy that only would charge me $120. The only alternative, according to him, was a minibus that was very dangerous. I figured that even if I got robbed I would still lose less than getting bent over by a taxi. I thanked him and turned to go, and just then he called out to a departing bus driver, "Mancora? Mancora? Ok, go with him, its direct to Mancora, only 20 soles!"

         A bit annoyed, but happy to be on my way again, I hopped on the bus and asked the guy next to me how much I should pay. 7 soles maximum. Gotta love Peru. The rest of the ride was uneventful, and I arrived at Mancora in time to check in to the world famous Loki hostel (which is basically a club med/nightclub with dorms). I met a couple of my roomies, a German named Phillip and an Argentinian with a great British accent named Exequiel . We hung out that night at the masquerade party hosted by the bar, until I slipped off to bed to sleep off my bus ride and get ready to enjoy the beach! Welcome to Mancora!

The beautiful city of Cuenca, as we depart for the border.

A beautiful traditional roof, with a terracotta sheep worn down by generations of wind and rain.

A proud Ecuadorian flag guarding the mountain pass as our bus wound its way through the barren mountains.

The beautiful mountains of Ecuador, barren rock covered in yellow flowers.

The beautiful countryside right outside of Cuenca

The endless banana fields of the Ecuadorian coast. Hours and hours of bananas only punctuated by small towns and local "Nightclubs" (aka brothels)

An Ecuadorian family in a small town perched on the edge of the road, overlooking a perilous plunge into the ravine below.

A line of mixed shots, "Blood Bombs" at Loki, stretching across the massive bar, awaited me in Peru.