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March 2004
Lima, Cusco, Machu Picchu, Guayaquil and the Galapagos Islands
Overseas Adventure Travel

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This trip to Perú and Ecuador, both on the Pacific Coast of South America, was our first “big trip” after we both retired and wanted to explore the world. It was with Overseas Adventure Travel, an affiliate of Grand Circle Travel (which we subsequently used extensively), specializing in off-the mainstream destinations. They cater to small groups of a maximum of 16 adventurous people, guided by natives of the countries visited, and choose independent local hotels. We had been warned this was for active people, and it certainly was. Although adequately paced, activities and stops were scheduled in such a way that we were pretty much constantly on the go for all 18 days of this adventure.

An adventure, it certainly was. There were two very different parts to it, in opposite environments: the high-altitude setting of the city of Cusco, followed by plus the lower-altitude but jungle-like tropical setting of Machu Picchu, both centered on ancient cultures in Perú; and the tropical Galàpagos Islands in Ecuador. This contrast resulted in two very different experiences.

I – Lima and Machu Picchu

Our first contact with Perú was the city of Lima, its capital. The flight south caused no jetlag since Lima is located in the same eastern time zone as Florida from where we left. However, crossing the Equator caused such sudden turbulence as I have never experienced since then, and never had before. After surviving a mega panic attack, I swore my husband Robin would just have to find another way back home for us both, or he was on his own and I would hike and swim back. As it turned out, the return flight was uneventful and my hiking/swimming skills didn't have to be put to the test.

Although it was near midnight when we landed, Lima was as busy, crowded and noisy as any large downtown in the daytime. When did the nine million people who live there -- or one-third of the population of Perú – manage to sleep?

Upon our arrival, we were immediately advised of the two basic rules of life in South America: 1/ Do not drink water out of the tap, only the bottled variety, which was available everywhere (locals have to boil their own cooking and drinking water); 2/ For the next 18 days, we would have to observe a public hygiene custom prevalent in all of South America: used toilet paper does not go into the bowl (their plumbing pipes cannot accommodate them) but is placed in a lidded receptacle, lined with a plastic bag (the equivalent of our waste-baskets.) North Americans are, of course, totally grossed out by this, but we complied, to follow the "Do as the Romans do" rule of travel. We found all public restrooms to be amazingly clean and well-maintained.

Trivia: Be aware that, in South America as it is in most other parts of the world, including Europe, hotels provide towels, but not washcloths -- which are considered personal items like toothbrushes.

When the group met for breakfast, we were advised that the air-conditioning on the yacht we were to sail in the Galápagos was working… only on the lower deck. This turned out to create a bit of a problem for those of us who were assigned to that lower deck, since the climate in the Galápagos is similar to Florida in the heart of summer: temperatures in the upper 90s, and humidity from 90% up. But the owners of the yacht (almost) made up for it by opening up the bar to all for the duration of the cruise! Which would make the barman, Jon, everybody's friend in no time.

This first full day in Lima was devoted to exploring it, and visiting the National Museum of Anthropology and Archaeology. Chino, our tour director, who was very proud of his country, was a great source of information. Perú is smaller than Alaska, and is composed of three major vertical and parallel regions: the coast (near the Pacific, and 50% of the country's surface) is very dry; the middle highlands (mountains in the middle) are very wet and are the coast's water supply; and the Amazon (tropical jungle farther east) is very, very, very wet.

The South American Andes is an extension of our North American Rocky Mountains, and vertically follows the Pacific coast. It also has a Continental Divide, with watersheds westward to the Pacific and eastward to the Amazon River. Being so close to the Equator, however, the snowline isn't reached until 15,000 ft. At 14,000 ft, Lake Titicaca, on the eastern edge of the country, is the highest navigable lake in the world. Also, being south of it, the seasons are reversed from North America. Besides, our concept of four seasons doesn't exist south of the Equator. There are only two seasons in that part of the world: the dry season -- from May to November, and the wet season -- from December through April. March was the equivalent of their "summer vacation" and all the kids were off school.

Perú has a population of 26 million, seven million of which live in extreme poverty. Agriculture and raising animals such as guinea pigs, chickens, llamas and alpacas are their main sources of income. There is free medical care in government-run clinics every morning on a first-come, first-served basis. However, this doesn't apply to prescriptions. Consultations with private physicians are available, in the afternoons, for a fee. There is no social security or welfare system. But education is free, and illiteracy is only 15%, and everyone needs a high school diploma to get a job. Electricity is available everywhere, and is very cheap because of the abundant supply of water. However, there is no running water in rural areas, where women have to go to the village spigot to fill containers to bring back home for everything. It quickly becomes obvious that the 10-mn showers of spoiled North Americans are unknown in that part of the world. And a shamefully wasteful one as well.

Peru is 90% catholic (like most Hispanic countries). However, many customs and beliefs of their traditional Incan religion remain, and cohabitate -- more or less officially -- with the catholic dogma imposed by the Spaniards at the time of the Conquest in the 16th Century. Lima has the largest segment of Chinese population in all of South America, which fact is made obvious by the names of many businesses throughout the city, and the abundance of Asian features on passers-by.

Trivia: On our drive to the Museum of Archaeology, we drove along the ocean and a beautiful boardwalk, giving us ample experience of the very Latin custom of a total and casual disregard for traffic signals. None of our drivers dared do so because they were driving gringos, but we soon stopped counting the number of cars which went through red lights. At the first one, we screamed. The second one, we gasped. The third one, we sighed. The fourth one, we just shook our heads. Couldn't tell you where it happened for the fifth time. We were no longer paying attention. However, let it be known that we didn't see one single accident during the 10 days we were on land.

The Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology was well worth it, and gave a fascinating overview of Peru's various cultures, including pre-Inca, e.g. Chavin, Mochica, Chimu, and Nazca. We had lunch in a lovely local restaurant where we very quickly learned how to order drinks, mostly cerveza (beer), vino blanco (white wine), and agua sin gas (non-carbonated bottled water).

As a rule, we very much enjoyed the food at every restaurant we went to. It was all local food, and we found the menus/diet balanced, with a healthy mix of vegetables, fruits, lots of delicious soups, no beef but lots of fish, chicken, and also lamb. We even tried alpaca and guinea pig! We found the whole city, and the country in general, very clean.

It is then that we experienced for the first time (but not the last) an aspect of Third-World countries which I found so offensive that I could never get used to it: people, mostly children -- sometimes as young as 5 or 6 -- and also women, trying to sell you their wares, anything from postcards, to crafted hand-made knick-knacks, or even sweaters and blankets -- by literally shoving, pressing, throwing the items into your face or hands, crowding every inch of the pavement in front and all around and behind your path. Knowing that these people are desperately poor, and feeling so very bad for them, did not relieve the feeling of being assaulted and the almost desperate need to get away.

Catacombs under the Franciscan Monastery in Lima

After lunch was a fascinating visit to a Franciscan monastery (the Franciscans are an order of monks in the Catholic church, like the Dominicans or the Jesuits), with a lovely and very peaceful cloister. The highlight was our visit of the catacombs which are underneath it. They are underground burial chambers, the concept of which goes back to the Romans. Some hold coffins of some kind, some others were just used as dumping grounds for dead bodies. This one was of the latter variety. The bones of some 25,000 bodies -- going back to the 15th-century colonial period -- were discovered in the 1950s during excavations. The bones and skulls, classified and sorted out, were displayed in separate chambers and compartments lining the dirt and stone paths on which we walked. It was only one of the many exposures to the evidence of the utter devastation and unspeakable cruelty of the Spanish invaders. The natives' dislike of the Spaniards is palpable at times, though never openly expressed.

Trivia: We were puzzled by the many houses without a roof that we saw throughout the city. Chino explained that in Perú, you only pay real estate taxes on houses with the construction fully completed. Since it practically never rains in Lima, if you're broke and don't want to or can't pay taxes, you just never put a roof on your house. Why didn’t we think of that?!

That evening, we were treated to a fine meal in one of the prettiest and best restaurant of the city, the Rosa Nautica, right on the water, on the boardwalk. We enjoyed our first pisco sour -- a drink made of the brandy-type national liquor (pisco) mixed with some fruit juice, and egg whites.

The next day started the second stage of this first phase, flying to Cusco, in the highlands, 1,000 km (700 miles) southeast and across the Andes from Lima. Since going by road is a long and arduous trip, there are many daily flights, shuttling between the two. By the way, altogether, we took seven flights: Miami to Lima, Lima to Cusco, Cusco back to Lima, Lima to Guayaquil (Ecuador, the door to the Galápagos), Guayaquil to San Cristobàl (the main island of the Galápagos), San Cristóbal back to Guayaquil, and return home to Miami. We were very pleasantly surprised that all of the domestic flights were on jets (as opposed to the props we feared), on local airlines, with great service.

Cusco is Chino's hometown, where he knew everyone and everything. We spent two full days there, staying at the Novotel (a French hotel chain), in a tortuous, narrow cobbled street, which made navigating our bus quite a challenge. Some of the turns our driver succeeded in completing were a short putt from a miracle. After checking in, we were initiated in the lobby to the local custom of drinking coca tea, which is made from coca leaves and is the remedy against altitude-sickness. Tourists are advised to drink some frequently to prevent it. Some of us, however, quickly discovered that the coca leaf is a stimulant akin to caffeine, which caused us to spend an undue number of night hours staring at the ceiling.

At 11,000 feet, and now home to 500,000 people, Cusco was, for two centuries, the capital of the Inca Empire, which, from the 11th to the 15th centuries, encompassed modern-day Peru, Ecuador, Argentina, Bolivia and Chile. Until Pizarro's invasion in 1538, it was a thriving metropolis, displaying many signs of wealth in the form of sheets of gold and silver, studded with precious stones. It is located in the province of Cuzco (spelled with a Z as opposed to the city spelled with an S).

Trivia: the Cusco flag displays a full rainbow, which leads to some confusion in both gay and non-gay visitors.

Original Inca Wall near Plaza de Armas in Cusco

The first day, we visited the Temple of the Sun and the Cathedral in the center of town. The former -- like many similar monuments -- was originally built by the Incas, then destroyed and covered by cathedrals built by the Spanish invaders. The Temple demonstrated the incredible engineering and architectural knowledge and skills of the Incas. Prevalent in all of their structures and buildings, there is a recurrent figure of 13 degrees, which pertains to the angle of construction of many walls and roofs. The reason is assumed to be because it corresponds to Cusco's latitude of 13º south of the Equator.

The second day, we left town and went into the hills to visit the important Inca site of the massive Sacsayhuaman fortress. Built with enormous stones weighing up to 125 tons a piece, it overlooks the valley with zigzag walls and three immense towers, originally intended to garrison 5,000 Incan soldiers. These soldiers must have been very tall, because the doorways are much taller than ours, and the steps of all the stairs were definitely above our average. We were told that the Incas were both very strong and healthy, with an excellent diet, thus their height. It's only after the bastardization of their race with intermarriages during and after the conquest that the level of health and standard of living dropped enough to produce the shorter people of our time period.

School Children in Sacsayhuaman  near Cusco — School Children in Sacsayhuaman near Cusco

The tour ended with the delightful surprise of a group of small school children on a class trip, dressed in the multicolor garb they wear every day, whose feet had soles looking like leather from walking barefoot everywhere. With huge smiles lighting up their little brown faces, and peels of laughter ricocheting off the hillsides when they slid on their behinds down huge boulders strewn in between the hills, it was a sight to behold. After asking permission from their teachers – as is customary --, our cameras got busy, and soles (the sol is the unit of Peruvian currency, with 3 ½ soles to the dollar) went flying into their extended hands.

Healing ceremony with an Andean medicine man

Later on, our small group was treated to a traditional healing ceremony conducted by a curandero a Pacco, an Andean medicine man. We each, as well as Chino, participated and were blessed on behalf of Pachamama, meaning Mother Earth, image of fertility. In the middle of our respectful communion with nature, in the clear and pure mountain air, with the mysterious influence of the mythical gods of our guide's faith surrounding us, a sudden shrill noise made us all jump and look at each other, mystified. It proved to be the ultimate cross-cultural insult: Chino's cell phone had broken the spell! It was absolutely eerie, and almost comical at the same time. He stepped away discreetly to answer it, nobody said anything, and the curandero went on without registering the intrusion.

Next to the site where the ceremony took place was a sweater factory, where we behaved like typical American tourists anxious to get rid of their money. I must say that the sweaters were absolutely magnificent, made of 100% alpaca (of the llama family), in an astounding array of dizzying colors, each brighter and more lovely than the next. They were much less expensive than in local stores, and hard to resist since Chino has recommended this wholesale operation.

The next day was our approach to our Holy Grail: Machu Picchu. On our way to the station/town where we'd board the train that would take us to Aguas Calientes, the town at the foot of Machu Picchu, our bus traveled through the breathtaking and heavily-wooded Urubamba Valley, which is the headwaters of the Amazon River, 4,500 miles from the Atlantic Ocean. In addition to the predominant eucalyptus -- imported from Australia, we also saw many cypresses and pines -- coming from the U.S. Maples and cedars are indigenous.

The two-hour train ride to Aguas Calientes was a welcome respite from the non-stop previous days. All of us alternated between watching the glorious scenery, and dozing off to afford our brains a break. The railroad was built in 1906 for commercial purposes, to transport coca leaves to Cusco, and then to Lima. Comfortable enough, though not air-conditioned, but at that altitude, it was just fine. Actually, the temperatures in Perú were very comfortable, cool enough at night in Cusco (remember, 11,000 ft) to wear a sweater or jacket. Comfortable enough during the day for long pants and sometimes long sleeves. Especially in the morning.

Trivia: While crowding the platform to board the train, I blinked twice to make sure I wasn't imagining the tell-tale "uniform" of the two young men right in front of us in the line: black pants, white shirt, black tie. Reading their name tags wasn't necessary: after living 12 years in Utah, we know Mormon missionaries when we see them!

The gate town to Machu Picchu (which means "old mountain" in quechua, the Peruvian native language), Aguas Calientes is a small town whose name means Warm Waters. This is where the train arrived, and where we spent two consecutive nights, in a lovely hotel cut right into the rock, overlooking the Urubamba river and gorge. This allowed two separate visits to the site, one mid-afternoon, plus the following early morning -- instead of the traditional, single mid-day visit by most tourists.

After checking into our hotel, and a lovely buffet lunch by the roaring river, we boarded a public bus, shuttling every 30 minutes between Aguas Calientes and the entrance to the site. The bus climbed steadily up a ribbon of narrow dirt road which steadily snaked and switched back to reach the entrance. There were times when I preferred not looking out the window... Seen from the top, however, that ribbon was spectacular.

Nicknamed at first the "Lost City of the Incas," Machu Picchu was first discovered in 1911 by Yale archaeologist Hiram Bingham. Further discoveries -- such as that of the famed Inca trail, which is now a world-famous trek for hikers, going from Urubamba to Machu Picchu, over 30 miles (43 km) of rocky trail through the jungle -- showed that it was, instead, the center of a whole "lost region."

We spent the whole afternoon as a group, led by Chino who feels about the site as he does his own backyard. You don't know being in shape until you see this guy literally fly like a mountain goat over near-vertical rocky paths on the way to the Visitors' Hut, without as much as stopping for a breath. The coup de grace for us was when he casually said that he preferred doing this barefoot… The hut is a sort of lean-to, or three-sided shelter, which was a very welcome refuge from the torrential rains which poured down on us all the way from the entrance gate. We were a sorry-looking, but determined, bunch of soggy, poncho-covered messes, but happy as larks to have made it to the top.

By the way, to clarify a question several of you asked before we left: the well-known "steps" shown on all pictures of Machu Picchu, giving an appearance of ladders, are not steps, as in stairs that you climb. They are terraces, or wide and narrow strips of land which were engineered by the Incas to set up their agricultural platforms to grow corn and beans. They were cut straight across the side of the mountains, and staggered like the rungs of ladders, thus the appearance, from a distance, of steps. The walking surfaces were either horizontal -- between terraces--, or vertical stairways made of stones, cutting across the terraces.

Our guide playing his Andean flute on top of Huayna Picchu

The site is composed of a residential area for the common people on one side, with private residences also terraced on the sloped sides of the mountains, and another residential site for the nobility and the Inca (in the singular form, the noun means "chief"), with a large flat area in the middle intended for agriculture.

Now that you have the bulk of the vital statistics, allow me to wax lyrical for a bit. How on earth can words do justice to the awesomeness of the place, and the reverence inspired by the spiritual aura which permeates it? All of it boggles the mind: The sheer scale of the project; the mystery which still shrouds its construction and subsequent abandonment; the fact it managed to escape the Spanish conquest -- who walked right by it on their way up to Cusco, not seeing the structures which were buried in the tropical forest; the clouds which are constantly swirling, twisting, disappearing, bursting, and dancing in perpetual motion, above and around the ruins and over the whole site; the stone heads carved to follow the outline of the mountain located directly behind it in the background on the other side of the valley; the incredibly elaborate sewer and water systems running through the residential areas (many "pipes" are still in place and visible).

After getting through the site as a group that first afternoon -- which wasn't too crowded, probably because of the rain early on -- and also overloaded by Chino's running commentary, I was yearning to return the next day by myself, and wander throughout the site to just "feel" it while giving my brain a rest. I enjoyed my quiet time the following morning (before the crowds were at their peak), while the rest of the group either stayed in town to shop, or split up to do two different hikes to neighboring peaks. Robin joined the group which did the steepest but shortest hike, accompanied by Chino, who treated them to a very special musical treat on his Peruvian flute once they reached the very top.

Trivia: Before once again boarding the train to return to Cusco, I managed to visit the market, where I succumbed to the lure of two long and narrow woven pieces of colorful fabric, which I instantly knew would be outstanding wall hangings on each side of the fireplace in our family room.

Our last day in Perú took us to Tambomachay Temple, with a spring supposedly imparting eternal youth and fertility. The men rushed to it hoping to capture eternal youth (of course!), and the women ran from it, wanting nothing to do with fertility (and some!). A good laugh for all.

Then on to rural areas and private homes, where the main activity is the raising of alpacas (sporting long hair) and vicuñas (with short hair, both of the llama family. Vicuñas are very rare and very expensive, and only the Inca could use their wool. We were also treated to a demonstration of hand-weaving with threads of vibrant colors hand-made with natural herbs and plants

Moving right along to Pisac, an ancient Inca city at the southeastern end of the Sacred Valley of the Incas, while Urubumba, visited yesterday, was at the northwestern end. Pisac is known for its splendid Inca ruins, and a colorful market. The modern town was built in the valley during colonial times, while the ruins of the Inca town are, as usual, up on the slopes of the mountains surrounding the valley. The two main goals of Incan cities were to enjoy great views, and to secure protection. Thus the very high locations of the dwellings, with the flat areas of the valleys reserved for agriculture. When those valleys were too narrow for the space required, the terracing present at Machu Picchu was created. All Incan cities had a Temple to the Sun, with a window or door facing east.

The ruins of the old Inca town of Pisac were restored in 1986. What a sight! We had a chance to enjoy them at the end of a rather strenuous but spectacular circular hike on rocky ledges, and even through a small tunnel carved in the rock, overlooking the town. It was very hot and sunny, very steep and rocky, with a few spots which were not for the weak-hearted or those with vertigo. Walking sticks came in handy.

Next was a home-hosted lunch at a local family’s home, known to Chino. The gastronomic quality of the lunch was debatable, but the quality of the welcome was not. The highlight was a roasted guinea pig -- which is the meat staple of most of rural Perú, but the jury is still out on that one. There were many vegetable dishes, and a delicious soup. Since none of the hosts spoke English, Chino was once again the hinge between his group and his compatriots.

After a timely rest period back at our hotel, we were restored enough to engage in a lively and vastly entertaining dinner at one of the local restaurants on the Plaza de Armas, with scrumptious food. All that to the sounds of a local Peruvian band, with dancers jumping in, and finding partners among our group.

The next morning, a before-dawn wake-up call turned out to be unnecessary since our very early flight back to Lima was delayed three hours. Ever so much the perfect host, Chino volunteered to take us for a visit of a cemetery to kill time (pun not intended). Though sounding gruesome, it turned out to be very interesting. Adopting the old-fashioned French system of mausoleums, they use much less "floor space" than American cemeteries, by stacking coffins horizontally in individual spaces, three to each side for instance, with one family per mausoleum. Families who can afford it, that is. Those who can't, just have separate horizontal compartments -- in the style of our post office boxes -- where the coffins are slid, closed by a little glass window which displays photographs and objects having belonged to the deceased, flowers, rosaries, etc. They can have it either for a certain number of years --at which time the contents are incinerated --, or for life. It's all a matter of price. Stacked up several feet high, they protect the environment from the land-guzzling in-ground cemeteries.

To occupy the rest of the free time allotted to us by AeroGal, the regional Chilean airline, Chino kindly took us to see his own house. In a nice neighborhood, his house would make many an upper-middle-class American proud. I think he was particularly eager to share his home with us, to demonstrate that not all of his country was in poverty. Because we had developed quite a rapport with him, it felt like visiting a friend's house.

Once back at our Lima hotel, Chino was off for the afternoon, and we were on our own. Most of us visited the Museum of Gold, which flaunted the ubiquitous richness of the Incas in gold, and various precious metals and stones.

II – The Galàpagos Islands, Ecuador

And on to the second phase of our adventure. After another very early flight took us to Guayaquil, Ecuador, for the first leg of our approach to the Galapagos Islands. What a contrast! Not only in altitude, but temperature and humidity. Wow! Getting off the plane in Guayaquil was like stepping into a sauna. With its two and a half million people, Guayaquil is Ecuador’s largest city, and a very busy port and commercial center. However, as evidenced by the total absence of hovering “vultures” in the streets, it is not a tourist destination. Thank goodness for an effectively air-conditioned hotel, to compensate for 95° and 90% humidity.

The capital city of Ecuador is Quito, much farther north and very close to Colombia. We found the cost of living higher in Ecuador than in Perú, which is literally the price to pay for stabilizing their economy through adopting the US dollar as their national currency.

At that point of our trip, Chino took the back seat, and we took on another guide, Alfredo, a native Ecuadorian. Since relations between Ecuador and Perú have been quite tense recently, each country requires their own locals to be guides in their respective countries. Alfredo's style was much more typical, a bit flashy, a bit hype, let's-give-the-tourists-their-money's-worth approach. We could have done without it, but our exposure to him was short-lived, since we were leaving for the Galápagos the very next morning.

Ubiquitous frigate bird, Galapagos Islands

Trivia: Lest we all got bored, Robin and I and another woman provided an unwelcome diversion when we got stuck in the hotel elevator. Trying to hurriedly let the woman’s husband follow her in the elevator, Robin inadvertently hit the “Emergency Stop” button, instead of the “Open Doors” one. Here we were, abruptly stopped between the 6th and 5th floor. After the hotel staff proved unable to pry open the doors, the management succeeded in reaching the Maintenance Company (this was, of course, a Sunday) It took 35mn – during which we had a lively exchange between floors with the staff, we in English, they in Spanish, as well as with our Chino who was very concerned that one of us was claustrophobic. Which we thankfully were not.

When we joined the rest of our group for an afternoon walking tour, we first marveled at the multitude of land iguanas sprawled on the sunny lawns of a city park across from the hotel. This first exposure to Ecuador climate was a bit much for me, and I can't say that I enjoyed the short tour, both in a bus and on foot, of the renovated waterfront -- which appeared to be the only part of the city worth seeing. The rest struck us as rather dumpy and not very interesting. Except, of course, for spotting the odd black tie/white shirt/black pants uniform crossing the street in front of our bus… (guess who?) Which, by the way, occurred again at the Guayaquil airport on the way home. I was turning paranoid, with visions of the LDS church dispatching their best recruits to save our Unitarian souls.

Early to bed after a delicious dinner, to prepare for another Holy Grail experience. After the week in Perú, we were so used to very early morning wake-up calls, that our days simply shifted. By the end of the trip, we were all asleep by 9PM. Granted, we wouldn't have won the Live Wire contest, but when it came to Early Birds, we were way ahead of everyone even in our age group.

Galapagos, here we come! First, let me tell you that this -- even more so than anything that precedes -- is not a report intended for the National Geographic Magazine. It only attempts to share with all of you my perceptions, observations and reactions -- not a listing of scientific data.

Land iguanas on Santa Cruz Island, Galapagos

After an uneventful one-and-a-half-hour flight from Guayaquil, with a tasty breakfast on board which far surpassed the most elaborate meal on North American flights, we landed in Puerto Moreno -- the capital of the Archipelago -- at one of the two Galápagos airports, on San Cristobal Island, the main, if not the largest of the Galápagos. There we met a Galápagos Naturalist, named Roberto, who was going to be our guide for the whole week. Chino was with us, of course, but laid back and came along for the ride -- and all the hikes. Again, a very different sort of fellow than Chino, he seemed to us to have had a past in the military -- though it turned out not to be so --, judging by the way he ran the operation. At the beginning, it felt a bit like boot camp, but we all got used to it, and, with a little teasing, Roberto loosened up.

The humid heat was painful, and we had only one thought: get in our bus to go to the dock, and then to the boat which was going to be our home for the following week. We were all eager to find out which cabin, i.e. which deck, we were each going to wind up with, since they were assigned on a lottery basis. However, the powers-to-be, namely Roberto, had chosen to go visit the Visitor Center first. It was a very interesting overview of the past and present history of the Galápagos Archipelago, but I remember the sweltering heat somewhat spoiling the experience for some if not all of us.

Once that was done, we were on our way to another "home lunch", where the son of the hostess -- who spoke no English -- was a very personable and bright young high school student whose English was excellent. He was about to leave for Santa Monica, CA, where he was to spend the next year with a scholarship to finish high school there, and another one for his first two years of college also. He was a delight, intelligent, curious, and very excited about his forthcoming adventure.

We couldn't wait to get to the boat, named Deep Blue. Once we each drew a piece of paper from a hat showing our cabin number, we were among the lucky ones and settled down in one of the four upper deck cabins. Once unpacked, we went on our first "outing." The pangas, or dinghies, took us to the nearest beach for our first swim and/or snorkel in the Pacific. Swimming was difficult because of a very strong undertow. I found it relatively too crowded with other tourists groups, and the sun was beating hard, with no shade anywhere. Robin and I returned to Deep Blue by panga before the others. A cold shower and a glass of wine under the blue canvas on deck restored my well-being, enjoying the peace and quiet while all the others went back to shore to buy T-shirts.

Frigate bird at home on our cruising yacht in the Galapagos

And so did our life on board start, with the same routine every day: wake-up call at 6:00AM, which we didn't even need after the first day; breakfast on the main deck at 7:00AM, and departure at 7:45AM for whatever the morning activity was, usually hikes. Which meant hopping/jumping/sliding (whatever did the trick) into the pangas; return mid-morning for a rest; lunch at noon, followed by a rest/nap or whatever until 2:30, where we again hopped/jumped/slid into the pangas for our afternoon destination -- either hike, or swim/snorkel outing, or both; return usually late afternoon for some more free time; then the daily briefing, covering the next day, at 6:30, followed by dinner at 7PM. Then free time, and we all hit the sack early, to read in bed. Participation in the twice-a-day hikes/outings was not mandatory, and just about every day, one or the other would stay on board to rest, enjoy solitude, sleep, do laundry (a loose term for swishing around the absolute necessities in the sink, in order to save as much water as possible.)

Deep Blue was an 80-foot yacht, with beautiful woodwork, and four decks. Four passengers' cabins, with two separate lower berths and private baths, were on each of the lower and upper decks. The galley, dining-room, bar, lounge and transom were on the main deck. All meals were taken on board. The lounge hosted our daily briefings, and had a TV -- which only the crew watched because they were the only ones to stay up late enough -- plus a whole supply of paperbacks that other passengers had left after finishing them.

Trivia: While picking up Sue Grafton's "N" is for Noose, I found a post-it covered with mysterious recordings of times, which I at first took for a copy of some mysterious Mayan or Incan time instrument, until I realized they must have been written by a woman having started labor and keeping track of how far apart the contractions were!

The crew -- who spoke no more English than the passengers spoke Spanish -- slept in another area of the lower deck, near the engines, and the captain and the naturalist had their own cabins in the bow of the boat, also on the upper deck. A large covered area in the stern area of the upper deck provided a much-needed shaded retreat, both after lunch and before dinner. To compensate for the absence of air-conditioning, large fans had been installed on one of the cabin walls in the upper deck passenger cabins.

Sea lions on the beach on Hispaniola Island, Galapagos

Sea lions were everywhere to be seen: in harbors, plopped on the decks every which way, casually sharing the life of the boat owners, and slipping on and off at will; at sea, while we were anchored or under way, jumping, showing off, playing around and under our boat, at night and in the morning; or on beaches napping. Their behavior clearly said: "This is our turf, but you're welcome. Isn't life wonderful?" While rather slow and awkward on land, they are a swift, delightful bunch in the water. When we were swimming and snorkeling, they often came along for the ride, frolicking around and below us, daring us to "come out and play." But if one happened to be napping on a rock where our dinghy was supposed to land, it took some hand-clapping, and sometimes a slight nudge with the foot, to dislodge it. Which got us a "Do you mind?" look and an irritated "I was here first!" bark, while he disdainfully slid off and into the water.

The day I took my turn for "free time," I was so hot that I knew I had to go swimming right off the boat, but needed help from the crew. I managed to express that wish with sign language, and two crew members kindly lowered a loose rope ladder (...) down from the very edge of the bottom of the boat. That was the easy part. The climbing back on board was another story. Try to picture me hanging in deep water with my arms stretched above my head, one hand on the one side of the rope ladder, the curled fingers of my other hand clawing at the metal edge of the lower deck, my toes trying desperately to find purchase on the rungs of the loose rope ladder folding back under the hull of the boat. Looking up, way up to the deck where I know I am supposed to hoist myself, I start moaning. Then laughing uncontrollably, because I know it will never happen short of a miracle. And the miracle happens when the same two crew members grab hold of each of my forearms, and literally pull me up and out of the water. My dignity reduced to shreds, all I can do is thank them profusely, laughing with them at the whole pathetic scene. I thought I detected a glimpse of something in their eyes, assessing the old gringo lady not afraid to make a fool of herself just for the pleasure of going out to play in the deep ocean by herself.

A similar grotesque scenario was reproduced for each one of us every time we went swimming and snorkeling right off the dinghies: off was easy, back on was a sight to behold. The general effect was reminiscent of beached whales, of various sizes, being pulled on board and rolling on and off the benches before regaining some parody of countenance, with the help of two young, husky Ecuadorian crew members -- who very politely barely cracked a smile. At least until whoever happened to be playing the part of the whale, and the rest of us in the dinghy, burst out laughing hysterically, which gave them permission to join in. It was a merry time for all.

Marine iguana on Floreana Island, Galapagos

The Galápagos Archipelago comprises 13 major islands, six minor ones and 42 islets of surfacing rocks, located in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, 600 miles west of the west coast of Ecuador. All of them are of a volcanic nature, as evidenced by the surfaces we hiked on repeatedly. Only four are inhabited: San Cristóbal, Santa Cruz, Floreana and Isabela. Each island has several names, but I am using only the names used by the locals. We visited eight islands total, starting with San Cristóbal, then Hispaniola -- the most southeastern one, Floreana, Santa Cruz, Santiago, Genovesa -- the most northeastern one, north of the Equator, Bartolomé and North Seymour. Santa Cruz is the largest, with its capital, Puerto Ayora, being home to the Charles Darwin Research Station and to the Parque Nacional Galápagos.

Trivia: The lovely Santiago Island earned another claim to fame during our visit there: a tide pool among the rocks where iguanas were sunning became the final repository of our first digital camera. Robin slipped on a rock trying to take photos and dropped the camera… in the water. We uttered a simple and somewhat loud string of very informal eulogies, and that was that. The rest of our photos were taken by and sent to us by our friends.

For you history buffs, the bishop of Panama discovered Galápagos -- which means "tortoises" in Spanish -- on March 10, 1535. The first inhabitants settled down in 1785 in this horrifying penal colony, which is what it was first used for. Darwin arrived there on September 16, 1835, and in 1861, the Ecuadorian government declared the area an Ecuadorian province. The Archipelago became a National park of Ecuador in 1959, with 97% of its surface protected from visitors. The other 3% represent airports, towns and other public spaces. The Darwin Research Center -- which we visited -- was inaugurated in 1964, and in 1978, the UNESCO declared the islands a World Heritage site.

Tortoise on Santa Cruz Island, Galapagos

Wild life, of course, is the main attraction of this wondrous environment. My husband would be more qualified than I to tell you about the incredible variety of birds, reptiles and fish, which are sometimes specific to a given island. We saw, swam with and walked amongst (not necessarily in that order): iguanas -- land and marine; giant tortoises (150 yrs old and 400 lbs) on land, and enormous turtles in the water; many, many sea lions; schools of manta rays; blue-footed boobies, with gray beaks; red-footed boobies, with blue beaks and eyes; and Nazca boobies, bigger and mostly gray; red crabs; fur seals and flamingoes; just a few rare penguins; vermillion flycatchers; and a lot of frigate birds. All cohabitating for the most part peacefully. The snorkelers saw an amazing variety of magnificent, colorful fish, and also sharks. I abstained from snorkeling because my ears started hurting after a few minutes. What's remarkable about that environment is that fear had never been bred into any of the wild life since the presence of humans never threatened them. They went about their business absolutely as if we didn't exist.

The many frigate birds often visited and perched on our boat. I also learned more about their mating habits than I ever thought I'd want to know. Since the mating season was full speed ahead, we were treated to the males’ display of their ritualistic dark red air pouches blowing up to balloon size, right under their heads. This was accompanied by vigorous flapping of their very long wings, along with vociferous cries, all specific to that particular time of year and intended to attract females. I don't think it would do much for me, but hey, to each their own.

Trivia: According to a wonderful brochure issued by the Parque Nacional, all reptiles, 50% of the birds, 32% of the plants, 43% of the flora, 25% of fish and many inter-vertebrates are endemic to the Galápagos islands.

Blue-footed boobies on Hispaniola Island, Galapagos

Although reptiles don't do much for me, both land and marine iguanas were a sight to behold; absolutely oblivious to our presence when they meandered their way down to the ocean, it was our responsibility to get out of their way, not the other way around. Because they seemed to spend a good deal of time just quietly sunning themselves, they made wonderful subjects for all sorts of photo shoots.

After hiking on several of the islands, it's easy to see the imperative necessity to limit the number of tourists and to manage the routing of their destinations. The Parque Nacional does an excellent job at it. Considering a lot of Americans haven't even heard of the Galápagos, much less know where they are located, we were amazed to see how many of us crowded the big, popular islands (along with the ubiquitous Japanese and Germans). One more reason to enjoy the smaller, uninhabited ones. Returning to San Cristóbal on the last day for our flights back to Guayaquil and Miami, the contrast made me feel like we were in Hong Kong harbor.

My favorite islands were Floreana, Bartolomé and Genovesa. Most likely because they were the smallest, wildest and least crowded. My first prize went to Genovesa, which had the most wonderful and best protected beach, hosted a multitude of red- and blue-footed boobies as well as frigate birds in mating mode, and offered an impressive and challenging climb right up the cliff on what is known as Philip's steps, footholds literally carved in stone from the water's edge to the top of the island and the beginning of the trail. On that trail, the heat was so intense that we saw a baby boobie resting in the shadow of its mother to shelter it from the sun and keep it from frying.

The most spectacular hike was on Bartolomé, on supposedly 365 wooden steps, boardwalk-style, built on top of and around volcanic rock, to allow access to the top of an inactive crater.

Tourists' mail drop on Floreana Island, Galapagos

The most fun island was Floreana, host of the famous Post Office Beach, so named for a huge wooden mail box, covered with names of people and boats and dates, which is used as repository for messages ultimately intended to go around the world. Each visitor brings one, bearing their name and address and a message, and takes one from the box in exchange – the idea being the recipient must contact the sender, either in person or by e-mail or phone. We took one written by a couple in Fort Myers, FL, offering a dinner for two to whoever will call them. We did, and they made good on their offer. They were from NJ, and had been on a similar tour, one week ahead of us.

I have to say that the culminating point of that cruise was the last night on board, when, sunburnt, exhilarated and drinking our favorite beverage, we were treated to the grand prize: the whales putting on a splendid going-away show, just before and during a spectacular sunset at what is called Kicker Rock -- a huge boot-shaped volcanic rock sticking out of the ocean in the middle of nowhere.

Trivia: To keep the excitement going to the last minute, I walked off the plane in Miami, leaving my notebook -- the backbone of this travelogue -- in the pocket of the seat in front of me. Security wouldn’t let me back in, and this travelogue was only saved thanks to the cleaning person who went back to find it.

All in all, we were just thrilled beyond our expectations. Everything went well. Outside of a couple minor incidents, there were no accidents, or snafus of any kind. The weather was for the most part excellent -- except for our first day at Machu Picchu when it poured rain. Nobody got sick, injured, robbed, hurt, lost, mangled or otherwise interfered with. We were ready to go home, even more so after waiting unexpectedly four hours at the San Cristobal Airport for our flight back to Guayaquil -- after getting up at 5:30AM. Adios, amigos!

Travelogues

Travelogues

PERU (Machu Picchu) & ECUADOR (Galapagos Islands)

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