Ninety

Recently my Grandma Eva and her twin sister Evelyn celebrated their ninetieth birthdays.  Although they are both still in excellent health, I couldn’t help but thinking, “Wow I can’t believe they are sooo old!”  What a terrible thought, one fraught with negative attitude and emotion.  Society has told me 90 is old; when in fact age is nothing more than a number.

Ninety is a number; it is preceded by 89 and followed by 91.  Ninety is a right angle.  Ninety is the distance between bases on a Major League Baseball field. Ninety is the age of Gucci.  Ninety signals a hot day in the USA.  Ninety is the number of minutes in a soccer match.  Ninety is a unitary perfect number.  Ninety was the age of a Galapagos Tortoise who gave birth for the first time this June.    

1921 was ninety years ago.  Ninety years ago Albert Einstein received the Nobel Prize in Physics; Boeing started to obtain orders for aircraft and abandoned furniture-making; and Coco Chanel introduced "Chanel No. 5".  Einstein’s principals are still central today, Boeing is at the top of current headlines, and Chanel No. 5 is consistently a top selling fragrance.

I challenge everyone to dismiss the limiting principle of numbers as an indicator of age.  Whether someone is 9 or 90 years old treat them with respect, there is undoubtedly something you could learn from them.

  

Beaches, Boats & Booze in Tampa

I geared myself up and was excited to hit American soil once again; unfortunately it was less than a star spangled welcome home.  Searched, residue swabbed, and humiliated, I eventually made it.  My bag was not so lucky.  I can only imagine the hell it went through.  Travelling for 4 months through South America on sketchy buses, collectivos, and hitchhiking…where does my bag go missing?  A direct flight from Miami to Tampa.

Separated from the possessions I held been intimately attached to for so many months, my worries were easily distracted by a real, hot shower.  A shower without an electrical head, a shower I didn’t need to wear slippers in, a shower with equal pressure and temperature (which of course I had scorching with this new freedom).  It was glorious. 

Tampa, St. Petersburg and Clearwater are a humid, tropical trio of cities on the Gulf of Mexico coast. Visiting good friends, Davia and Kevin, it was 5 days of beaches, boats, and booze…exactly as I think Florida is meant to be!

Boating the intercostal waterways and exploring the different keys of St. Pete’s and Treasure Island was so cool.  There were dolphins and manatees around our boat, huge mansions to gauk at, and best of all shallow sand bars to stop at.  Boats stop all around these sand bars, set up volley ball nets, and just party.  Pretty cool scene to be ‘exposed’ in.

Anna Maria Island was also a huge highlight, a sleepy little beach community with fifties rancher homes lining the streets to a beautiful beach on the Gulf of Mexico.  It was a wonderful afternoon taking in the sun and unusual surf, this due to a tropical storm in the Gulf.  

On the other side of the island we stopped at “Rod & Reel Pier” which is a famous fishing spot with a little restaurant which opened in 1947.  I tried the Floridian classic, Grouper, quite a tasty fish.  Also worth mentioning were my other forays into ‘you can only eat that here’ land…Alligator, Conch Sushi, and of course Key Lime Pie!

Weighed down from very successful beach combing, it is finally time to board my last flight (well two), travel through time and space back to Seattle, and see my Mum!

Bogotá – A Love Letter

Dear Bogotá,

I love you.  I love everything about you.  I love the country you capital.  Although misunderstood and judged by some, I will always defend you, fight for you with all that I have.

I love your unassuming beauty; your juxtaposition of historic elegance with modern elements entwined.  I love your sprawl, your sheer expanse of mystery.  I love you for everything you leave to discover over time.

I love your people; open and compassionate, helpful and genuine.   I love all of your hipsters, stylistas, and punks.   I love your striking women and I love your leather boots.  I love your sizzling men in teal pants.

I love your color and raw grittiness.  I love your vibrant street art scene.  I love your Sunday flea markets with coca tea.  I love your ‘only bikes’ on Sunday philosophy.  I love your vibe, your inimitable character, your entire ethos.   

I love that you serve DUFF beer.  I love how you acknowledge you can get cold at night and give me (and your other lovers I suppose) free soup when I leave the bar.  I love your appreciation of the significance of good ‘After Hours’ and I love your Aguardiente.  I love your trees and vistas, and I love walking home with you as the sun rises. 

I just fucking love you OK.  Please don’t think I am an obsessive lunatic, but I know someday we will be together.  Until then you will be in my dreams.

Love, Katie

Zipaquirá Salt Cathedral

This salty underground attraction is about 45 minutes outside of Bogota in a quaint town called Zipaquira.  An actual salt mine in operation today, there is also an underground cathedral that was built in deserted tunnels deep within the mine.

180 meters under the earth’s surface you walk through 14 small chapels which represent the sufferings of Christ and lead to a shrine at the bottom which represents the birth, life, and death of Jesus.  The actual cathedral is 75 meters in length and 18 meters in height, with a capacity for 8,400 people.  The walls are a marbled looking texture of grey to white due to different salt purities; an utterly natural artistic fresco that tastes like salt!

Mining hats adorned we also set into the deeper bowls and tried our hand at mining - chipping away to get a small piece of salt rock for a souvenir.  The whole experience was unique and fun.  I felt like I was in Fraggle Rock, and who doesn’t love Fraggle Rock?

Lake Titicaca

In between a couple days spent in civilization, La Paz and Santa Cruz which I loved, I headed up to Lake Titicaca to take in the Mediteranean-esk serenity and alleged metaphysical properties.  Lake Titicaca is high in the Andes at 12,500 feet, straddling the Peruvian and Bolivian boarder; this makes it the highest lake in the world. 

The original name Lago Titi'kaka comes from the words, ‘rock’ and ‘puma’.  News to me is that the puma was a sacred animal to the Incas, which makes my love for Luna even stronger.  The altitude is difficult, the temperature is alpine, and the sun is wicked; but despite the somewhat testing conditions it is one of the most striking places I have seen in South America.

It started with a 3ish hour bus ride from La Paz to Copacabana; a winding trip to an even higher altitude was rewarded with stunning vistas of the lake and towering snowy peaks behind.  The next morning we took a 2 hour ferry to the north side of Isla Del Sol, or Island of the Sun. 

Isla Del Sol is a harsh, rocky landscape; there are no cars or paved roads on the island, only dirt paths to the over 180 ruins.  Most of the ruins date to the Inca period circa the 15th century AD.  In the religion of the Incas it was believed that the Sun God was born here, hence the name of the island.

We hiked to the Sacred Rock, which is supposed to resemble a puma, a labyrinth-like building constructed of stones called Chicana, and the Sacrificial Table, where it is believed human and animal sacrifice took place.  We then set out on the 3 hour hike from the north end of the Island to the south end of the Island.  Not an overly difficult hike, but it felt like a multiple day pilgrimage climbing a severe mountain with the altitudes effect!

In addition to the breathtaking scenery, some of my favorite memories of the lake were the children.  Two little girls with a baby lamb, feeding it from a bottle, came up to us nervously, and asked for 1 Boliviano for a picture; they then went and bought bubble gum with the money and came back to sit with us. 

Along the way as we pulled out our picnic of bread, avocado, and cheese, two little boys approached and held out their hands saying, “Queso, pan - por favor.”  It was our pleasure to share lunch with them and see their little faces light up. 

Approaching the south side of the Island two brothers, ages 7 and 11, started walking with us wanting to take us to their hostel to sleep.  They walked with us, like little body guards, for the next 45 minutes to ensure they delivered us safe from harm and the other boys on the path pretending we needed to pay a fee to pass!    

Transportation Bolivia

Transport in Bolivia is never dull,

Rugged roads, sketchy old vehicles, and passengers packed in skull to skull.

Unpredictable weather, boat crossings, blockades...always delays,
Warm clothes, Cremositos, and sleeping pills...a survival kit always pays.

Santa Cruz to Ambue Ari, waiting 6 hours is a must,
Seems far-fetched, but who can you trust?

Trinidad, Inglesia, San Bora...collectivos galore,
One breakdown, two breakdown, three breakdown, four.

From the park the only ways to hitch,
Hours of waiting, and praying to avoid a ditch.

In Rurre there is only moto taxis you learn,
All good fun, just watch out for an exhaust burn.

The most dangerous road in Bolivia I’m told,
Rurre to La Paz, a 2o hour bus ticket I’m sold.

Narrow dirt roads, steep cliffs, and landslides,
Reminiscent of those rickety old roller coaster rides.

La Paz to Santa Cruz, descending altitude with satisfying ear pops,
The 16 hour journey’s lengthened with multiple police interrogation stops.

Inevitably exhausted; covered in dirt, dust, and grime,
It’s guaranteed each trip is a memorable time! 

A Month at Jacj Cuisi with Luna the Pouncing Puma

A month has gone by, it’s hard to believe.
The creepy crawlers I’m definitely ready to leave.
For my majestic feline I shall shed a tear.
This has been an experience I will remember year after year.

A kept a journal every day.   Every little detail about Luna and how our relationship progressed.  I thought I would share some of my most significant and memorable recollections.

1.)    The hotter days can break 40 degrees Celsius, even in the jungle.  One of my favorite interactions with Luna was stopping to give her water on the trails. Pouring water into my hand and letting her lap it up, licking and purring.  Her purr is amazing, like a sputtering diesel motor, in the mornings and walking she is very vocal.  It is so inspiring knowing how happy she is.  In contrast sometimes there is rain; it is the Amazon after all.  During a rainy day Luna is grumbly and makes little grunts and squeaks of self-pity while hiding under the brush. 

2.)    A large part of Luna’s trail follows a stream, this was one of my favorite areas to walk her as she showcased her agility and undeniable grace; silently leaping from one bank to the next, delicately stepping from rock to rock, balancing on logs to avoid the mud.  Although it was usually an obstacle course to avoid the water, there were hot days when she would just plop down in the middle of the stream and flick her tail to spray water on her back and face.

3.)    A slightly less positive memory, although unforgettable is the ‘Bee Hive’ episode.  Luna was extra jumpy and playful so we tied her to a tree to calm down.  It’s common to have wasps landing on you, usually 2-3 at all times.  Well, we noticed them multiplying and before you knew it we were swarmed with hundreds.  Trying to walk it off they followed us, we obviously must have upset a hive and were paying the price in stings.  It started to get unbearable, a terribly claustrophobic, panicky feeling.  Watching us swatting and dancing and yelping was getting Luna even more excited of course, “Ooh ooh they DO want to play!” We had to make a decision - a swarm of wasps or an overly playful Puma…the Puma it was and although we took some jumps we both agreed it was the right decision (although made over 20 stings late)!

4.)    Another somewhat frightening memory was the falling tree.  The jungle is changing daily, on one such day this happened to be right over top of us.  I was on the rope and Luna was resting, all of the sudden we heard a crackling noise and before I knew what was happening Luna had leapt into action and was dragging me away.  A second later when I heard a thundering crash I looked back and a huge limb had crashed down exactly where we were.   The loud noise scared Luna, her ears were pressed back and her eyes were wide with fear as she was inching backwards.  I approached her and with a clam voice said ‘Todo Bien Luna’.  She looked up to me, looked ahead, and then gently licked my hand.  She looked back to me every couple of steps as she slowly made her way to the fallen tree to inspect.  This was the most amazing feeling knowing that she was scared and looking to my reaction for reassurance. 

5.)    One of my favorite parts of Luna is her playful disposition.  On our walks she would often turn to hunting mode, stalking along in silence…more than once she trapped a butterfly under her daunting paw.  It’s all a game for her so she’d release it, watch it flutter away, and then pounce on it again.  Usually I could see it coming and was able to keep up, but on one specific occasion of overzealous hunting there wasn’t a prayer and down the jungle ravine I went.  Luna was intrigued by this spot for days, sniffing and scenting my slide path.    

6.)    Overly obsessed with Luna and her every move, there’s only one non-puma occasion that is making this shortlist…the tarantula!  It was just past dusk and a full moon was lighting up the sky.  I was reading peacefully, until I felt something furry creep across my foot – in automatic reaction I flicked my foot before looking down.  Then I see a huge black tarantula on the rock right next to me and squeal!  It must have been the full moon because I saw 3 more that night.