Cochabamba and Beyond

As I write this next portion, I pray that it will make sense as I attempt to communicate my experiences. I am sick with what I believe to be a cold or flu. What I hope to be a cold. This section of my blog comes to you from a bed in Serena, Chile. You know…I am not normally one that likes to be waited on, but right now I kind of wish I had a special someone who would. If anyone knows where she is, just send her down to Chile to find me, but tell her to hurry because I never stay put very long. Anyway, obviously I have done a lot of traveling since my last update. I will begin with where I left off.

I was somewhat misleading in my last posting of pictures on my facebook page when I referred to them as the “rest of Peru”. In fact, I left out one more location in Peru that also happens to be one of the more beautiful ones I’ve seen, or at least the portion I was able to see was..

I arrived in a city in southern Peru called Puno. It is located on a westward shore of Lake Titicaca, which is claimed to be the highest navigable lake in the world at approx. 3800m (12500ft). Though I have read that it actually is only amongst the top 5. To give you an idea, that is higher than most mountain peaks in UT. I arrived at 4:30a.m. to a pitch black city. The electricity had gone out in the entire city about 2 hours earlier. The moon was not out, so the first thing I noticed was every star in the heavens. As I walked from the bus terminal, I had no clue where to go. With no lights to guide me, and having no clue which way we even came in from, since I slept right up to the terminal, I just started walking. It was pointless to search for a place since it was early and I wouldn’t recognize one building from another. About a block away, I reached a blackness that seemed deeper than the rest, emptier in some way. I assumed it must be the lake and turned the other way. As the sky lightened, I could see a mountain behind what I guessed was the city. Since it was morning I thought I would just head up the mountain. It would keep me warm by hiking, and it would place me in a better position to be able to see, what would be one of the most breathtakingly beautiful sights of my entire life. I just happened to come across a lookout point and the setting was more perfect than if I had planned it myself. With the city lights gone, there was nothing to detract from the greatest light in the heavens as it began its ascent. I have seen sunrises many times in my life before and after that moment, and from many locations throughout the world. None have even come close to comparing to the beauty that I was blessed to behold. Sadly, even with how beautiful the pictures turned out, there is no way that any photo or painting could do justice to that celestial sight. Having no words to describe it, and believing that none exist that can, I leave it at that.

Later that day I caught a boat out to one of the things that makes the lake famous, Los Uros. Los Uros are floating islands that were built hundreds of years ago by an indigenous group wanting to avoid violence with neighboring tribes. They have been maintained by their descendants ever since. The reeds, from which they are made, are replaced every 15-30 days. The houses, the benches, the schools, and even the churches are built out of the very same material. Each island holds a few families who live much the same as they always have, other than catering to tourists now. It was quite the experience to witness.

Before I left Peru, I had to try an alpaca steak. I don’t know if I ever recovered from my bus trip to Cuzco days earlier, so it was a bit scary. However, after tasting one bite of the steak, all cares and worries went right out the window. It was fabulous! Quite possibly one of the best meats I’ve tasted. It would be worth getting sick over. Though I did not.

The next day I made my way to the border with Bolivia. A tiny town by the name of Desaguaderos welcomed me with streets crowded with vendors selling last minute souvenirs and foods of all varieties. I had no trouble with migration services leaving Peru, but as I crossed the bridge to Bolivia I was met with a lack of organization and soon found myself being sent back to Peru to get dollars out from the bank for my visa. I then crossed back to Bolivia. After much running around as they sent me to one room and then the next and then out to a store to make copies for them, finally I was legal. A process that, on most borders, would take minutes, took hours. It was now dark and my plans to reach the capital city, La Paz, before dark had been foiled. My next step as I cross borders is to change money to the local currency, but I found myself at a loss because there were no moneychangers or banks on the Bolivian side. After asking, I was sent back across to Peru, again. What country doesn’t have currency exchange on their side of the border?! Bolivia. As I returned to Bolivia for what would be the last time, I found that the last bus had left for La Paz. The only option now was the little vans, referred to as combis, and the cars that act as unofficial taxis, called colectivos.  I was met with crowds of indigenous people, primarily women, waiting for the next combi. I met 3 Colombians waiting too. They, like myself, stood in awe as we watched hoards of these short chubby women fight their way onto these tiny vans. I do mean fight. I’m surprised I did not see blood spilt. We stood, partly afraid, but mostly entertained, as combi after combi filled with what seemed like endless amounts these women. The funny thing is, I found out that they also overcharge in the evenings. Supply and demand. Turns out it was cheaper to stay the night and leave in the morning. My bed for the night was topped with 7 inadequately sized, for even a short American, wool blankets, so I found different body parts frozen as they were exposed in the night. I awoke before the sun and had nothing better to do than leave that fridged place.

La Paz is an interesting city. There is upper La Paz that you enter first. It looks no different than any other third world city, with adobe and brick buildings. As you might expect, dirt and trash cover the streets. When you pass through it though, you come to the edge of the plateau you never even realized you were on. The vision you are met with is an artist’s masterpiece of a massive city built right onto the sides of the plateau and surrounding mountains. A snow-covered volcano looms amongst the surrounding peaks. It was spectacular. Unlike the upper city, it is filled with modern buildings and various bridges. It was an unforgettable city, if only for its beauty. I stayed for less than a day, since my target was actually Cochabamba, which lay 7 hours further into the country.

The road to Cochabamba is all desert and grassland. The second half is through grassy, rolling mountains and certainly had its own beauty. The only life to be seen was the occasional sierranita (mountain lady) with her herd of sheep and often llamas or alpacas. I have yet to identify a demon llama, but I keep searching.

My one day and one night in Cochabamba was primarily religious in nature and thus my adventures will be given a religious parallel to my beliefs. If you are not LDS, My intent is not to offend and therefore hope none is taken. Either way, there are parallels we can all take from the following story.

I arrived to the immensely spread out city of Cochabamba at night. There were lights everywhere covering miles and miles of valley and hillsides. The soul purpose in taking this detour to Cochabamba was only to visit the LDS Temple located there and to serve my God. As the bus drove amongst the lights, my eyes scanned the hillsides for the usually very conspicuous building, flooded with white lights, and causing it to stand out against the blanket of orange and yellow coming from all of the smaller buildings near to it. Then I saw it, off on a distant hillside…or at least it kind of fit the description. It was a large white building that stood out against the background, but something didn’t feel right…there was something missing. The bus pulled into the terminal with nothing else looking even similar to what I was searching for. I was sure that was the right direction to head in, in the morning.

I readied myself in the morning and with checkout at midday I gave myself plenty of time. You see, unlike the people of these cities, I don’t believe in taking a taxi if I don’t have to. Call it stubbornness, call it what you will. Confident in the direction I was to go in, I walked the miles to the location where that beautiful white building laid waiting. It was further than I had expected, but I had given myself plenty of time. When I reached the place it should have been, I wandered a bit through the other buildings until I saw it. I saw this massive white structure, it was a church, but instead of the Angel Moroni adorning the highest point, it was a giant cross. Now, I wondered where it could be. I asked a gentleman watering his lawn if he knew where the temple of the Mormons was. At first he wasn’t quite sure, but then he decided he did know where it was and directed me in a general direction, relatively close. He suggested I take a taxi, but then again, everyone suggests that, even if it is around the corner. I saw many taxis pass by me empty as I hiked in the direction given, I did not flag them down because I figured I still had time. As I approached where I thought it should be, I decided I needed a clearer view. I found my spot at an Evangelical chapel with an exterior set of stairs. I climbed up the steps and sure enough, I was able to see much more. Fewer obstacles clouded my sight, but it wasn’t perfect. I was able to see clearly the paths I should not take, but still wasn’t certain where exactly I needed to go. I made the choice that I thought would take me to where I wanted…no…needed to be. At this point, I had taken so long that the time had passed me by. I decided that I needed to swallow my pride and search for a taxi along the way. At this point I knew that I would have to pay a price for the decisions I made, but I had consigned myself to whatever price I would have to pay the hostal. I was tired and I just wanted to get to the house of God. As I walked, taxi after taxi passed me, full. I asked more people, who could only give me vague and indirect guidance, or none at all. Then I came to an old lady and asked her if she knew how to get to the temple. Her reply caught me a little off-guard, as it was both precise and profound. With a smile she simply said, “Go to the bridge and see for yourself.” The words hit me hard, and lingered in my mind as I ran to the bridge. I directed my vision to the tops of the buildings around me and saw an angel guiding me exactly to where I needed to be. Even with being as tired as I was, I ran to him. I was late and I was dirty and sweaty, but even with all of that, I was welcomed with open arms.

I’m sure by now you have already pulled many meanings and parallels from the story. I saw the light of Christ in the first church and it guided me to the general area in which I needed to be in that humongous city, just like most churches contain truths that bring us closer to God. Something, however, didn’t feel right…something was missing. So my search for truth continued. Much like the better perspective I got from the steps of that evangelical church, many churches will show us paths we should not follow and they will also lead us closer to our Heavenly Father with their teachings, as they too will give us a clarity we might lack without them, but they do not contain the fullness of the gospel, or the full panoramic view. Therefore they cannot lead us directly to where we need to be since they are still missing essential truths. Of the people I spoke with, many had enough of an understanding to be able to give me good advice, but others gave me nothing and did not bring me closer to God. Many of our acquaintances in this life will build and uplift us, and are good and wholesome, while others will bring us down and will not help us in our ultimate goal of reaching the Celestial Kingdom, and in fact may hinder our own salvation if we are not careful and stand true to the lessons we have been taught. Then there was the old lady who guided me with words so similar to the ones Joseph Smith read in James as he too was searching for truth. “Go to the Bridge and see for yourself” or in other words, as James directs us in the bible, “If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God ( the Bridge)”. Both Joseph and I received our answers as I know we all will, if we ask sincerely, believing that He is there. That is my promise. Was there a quicker way for me to get to my destination? Yes. Like sin will always slow us down, my stubbornness and procrastination in doing what needed to be done, cost me a lot of energy and made me late. However, at the end, when I knew I was wrong, I repented and sought the help I should have taken from the start. I no longer cared about the price I would have to pay for my late arrival back at the hotel. I only wanted to be forgiven and it didn’t matter the cost. It was late though and there was no longer an easy way, so It took a lot more work than would have been necessary otherwise. As long as we are truly broken and willing to do all that is necessary, then our Father in Heaven has provided a way and He is still waiting. Even for those of us who come late. There is even better news. I did not have to pay the price I thought I would for being late for my checkout at the hostal. Mercy paid the price of justice. We too do not have to pay the price. Jesus took care of that for us. In this life it does not matter how imperfect we are or how much or how seriously we have sinned. The only thing He asks of us is that we never give up the fight. The only way we will ever lose this war is if we give up after we lose a battle. I know it is hard and exhausting at times, but never give up and we will make it to our heavenly home where our Father awaits us patiently.

The experience I had in the temple that day was a very special one and I felt the Spirit stronger than I have in a very long time. Ultimately I am thankful I chose to make that detour.

The next few days were spent traveling south. I crossed the Argentine border and it was like the difference between night and day. Even though the landscape was very much the same, the streets were cleaner and so were the buses. I made my way down to the tourist hub called Salta. There is much to do in and around Salta, most especially if you are the outdoorsy type, but for me it was merely a means to an end. There, I received an email in response to my desires to help out with a project in chinchilla habitat restoration down in Illapel, Chile. Amy, the lady in charge, has invited me to come and help for as long as I would like, beginning on Wed. the first of Aug. That gave me a couple of days to get down there. I caught the next bus to cross the Andes into Chile this past Sunday the 29^th and ended up in San Pedro de Atacama that afternoon.

San Pedro is a tiny Pueblo in the middle of the driest desert in the world, the Atacama Desert. It covers most of northern Chile and parts of Peru, Bolivia, and Argentina. Scientists have studied the soils there because of their similarity to the soils on Mars. NASA often tests their Mars equipment there as well. It truly is a barren desert. As I said, the town was tiny and I decided to save some money and camp out under the stars. So I hiked a couple of miles out of town and up onto the side of a plateau where I found a small outcrop about a hundred feet up that looked sufficiently comfortable for my needs and laid out my sleeping bag. The first thing I noticed was the sound of silence. There was nothing. I barely heard the sound of the occasional wind gust. It was so peaceful. So still. So serine. I lay there staring at the night sky, watching the shooting stars streak across the black into nothing. What amazing creations God has made. Here I was, sleeping on Mars. Or at least, I thought I would sleep. Now, many of you know that deserts get very cold at nighttime, often freezing temperatures. I have a sleeping bag rated to below freezing and knew I would survive. Unfortunately, that’s all it did for me. Keep me alive. The night was long, cold, and uncomfortable as my dry throat turned to a scratchy and sore one. The first symptoms of my cold/flu were setting in and the rocks proved to be less than comfortable as the temperatures dropped. The morning came with my getting a few hours of sleep off and on. I watched the sun rise over San Pedro and went for a morning jog to warm me up and to give my bruised hips a rest. In town, I caught a bus to Calama where I then caught another bus to where I am now, about 15 hours south. The cold, or whatever, hit me hard yesterday and I find myself staying in bed for an extra day today to rest. Tomorrow I will continue my journey south to Illapel where I will begin the next chapter. I have dropped in weight and am probably skinnier than I’ve been since my mission. Not being able to exercise and not eating much, along with being sick off and on for the past two weeks has taken its toll.

I miss home. I’m not even sure where that is, but I miss it. As I laid in the Atacama Desert, I felt a bit like Moroni may have felt as I read Mormon chapter 8. I miss you all. I don’t even know who some of you are, but I miss you too. My plans may be changing and I may need to cut out a couple of countries on this trip so I can get back on time to apply for grad school and so that the time I do spend in the remaining countries can be more quality than it otherwise would have been. I’ll update you on my plans when I know for myself what will happen.

Until then, God be with you.

The rest of Peru

(The following was actually written July 22, 2012, but I did not have the opportunity to post it until now.)

I find myself having gone from the jungles of Ecuador, to the beautiful sandy beaches of the desert coast of Peru, to the traffic congested and noise polluted city of Lima , only to have ended up in the mountain pueblo of Urubamba Peru. I am about a two hour train ride from the famous ruins of Machupicchu. Sadly, I found out that you must book days in advance if you hope to enter the ruins, at least during the busy season. Therefore I will not be visiting them since I do not have the time to waste here. I am anxious to get to my next project and feel useful again. I have been once as a child and do have some memories of the place, so I am not too heartbroken, not to mention it costs a minimum of $120 to go and I’d rather use that elsewhere. On a different note, I ate cuy (guinea pig) for the first time tonight and am praying that my childhood pet guinea pig, Tribble, will forgive me, but I had to try it. It is a common dish here in Peru, along with llama and alpaca, which I will be trying soon, if my stomach permits. It was a bit strange eating cuy since there is no disguising it, as the entire cuy lay on my plate staring up at me with its mouth wide open. The flavor is difficult for me to describe since the only thing I think of that came close was a squirrel that I once ate as a teenager. I will leave it with the mere comment that it will be the last time I choose to eat it. It was not entirely bad, but certainly not my first choice of meats.

Since my last entry I placed myself in communication with the family of Gaetana Glaleska, one of my friends back home. They were kind enough to put me up for a night during my stay in the Trujillo area. It was a nice little house around the corner from the ocean. I met one of her sisters, Gretta, who was very kind, but was sick and had classes so I only briefly met her. I met her little brother by the name of Benjamin, who without hesitation, gave up his bedroom for me with a smile on his face. I’m not sure of his age, but I think around 10 maybe. I didn’t get to see him much either since he was at school most of the time. The one I did get to meet and get to know a little more is Patricio, her father. This man is a character. You can’t help but love the guy from the start. He’s a sugar cane farmer and has the look of a man that loves to spend his time in the fields and outside. He loves to talk and is never at a loss for words, as colorful as they often are. He invited me to go run some errands with him the next morning. I had no idea what that would entail and gladly accepted the invite. We left fairly early in the morning for the city of Trujillo first and ended up at his mother’s house. It’s always funny to see people with their mothers. No matter what age they are, they become a child in the presence of mom. Here, a grown man, getting into a discussion with his mom about him getting rid of his warn out, favorite jeans. I thoroughly enjoyed being the virtually invisible bystander. Then, we boarded a bus and headed out to a farming community called Viru, all the while he was talking my ear off, though half the time I couldn’t understand a word he said. He speaks fast and not very clearly most of the time. It quickly became apparent he is a well-known man in the community as everywhere we went, one person or another was saying hi to him. After running a few more errands we ended up at a potentially gorgeous villa/ranch in the outskirts of the town. I say potentially because I’m sure it once was, but it has long since been abandoned and run down. The house is large and spacious with a guesthouse in the back, larger then most people’s only home. There is a complex for the ranch hands to live in and stables nearby. A swimming pool with an arched bridge crossing over it decorates the front lawn. A large corral along the side of the house, with fields surrounding the outskirts of the property complete the scene. The only inhabitants now are the rats and insects along with two dogs and the six horses he keeps tied up on the grounds. It made me sad to hear the story of how it came to be this way. I will not share the story as it only comes from one persons point of view and it defames some people. So I will leave the subject alone, with the addition that, aside from other things, the pueblo nearby has grown, and with it, the crime in the area. It is no longer a very safe place to live and it would be costly to upkeep. Patricio is passionate about his animals, most especially his horses. He and I spent several hours of the day taking care of the horses and dogs. Much of the rest of the day was spent driving to his different fields that he has scattered in the surrounding villages. I learned a bit about the cane business and unlike many farms in the states that grow other plants, it is a year round process just to grow the sugarcane. I did spend some time in the fields working as well, and that part is much the same as the other farms I have worked on. We finished the day with the horses again, but this time he saddled up one of them. We contemplated my getting on the horse, but it was not very broken and my experience on horses is limited. So we chose the wiser route and left it to the expert. After arriving back at the house at around 8 pm, I said goodbye to Patricio who almost seemed genuinely sad to see me go as he said, “You know where we live now and you are more than welcome to stay.” But then he said something else, “We’ve only spent the day together, but it feels like I’ve known you all my life.” I was very touched by that comment. Benjamin walked me to where the bus would take me into Trujillo. He put his hand on my shoulder and looked at me with the air of a grown man and very sincerely told me to be careful and to come back and visit sometime. I couldn’t help but laugh inside with a smile on the outside. I like Benjamin, he’s a good kid. Upon arrival at the bus station in Trujillo I was going to change, but found my clothes had mold on them from the jungle, days previous. They had never fully dried. So I decided to stay one more night.

The next morning I went north a bit to Huanchaco, a little surf town. While I waited for my clothes to be washed, I decided to actually take a surf lesson. I’ve surfed three times in my life, but never took a lesson. I must say it was worth it. The instructor was actually surprised at my ability to grasp it and by the end of our session was giving me the more advanced lessons that one doesn’t usually get on their first day. This by no means indicates I am good, only that I caught on quick. I have much practicing to do. I love the ocean and being in it. There has always been something that draws me to it. It is enchanting and relaxing. It’s power demands respect and its beauty is spellbinding. The sound can leave you in a trance while the smell, for me is nostalgic. Right now though, for me, it is a connection to familiarity and with that comes comfort and peace.

The next leg of the trip brought me to the big city of Lima. It is a massive city with millions of people. I found myself in the middle of downtown at 3am as I walked the streets looking for a place to stay for the night. The Sheraton Hotel looked awfully appealing, but I can’t afford such luxury. While the prostitutes were anxious to make me comfortable for the night, I quickly moved on to a location a good distance away from that district where I finally found a place to stay for the few hours left of the morning. The next day I met up with my dear friend Paola Lam. I met Paola a couple of years ago in the states through my old boss and friend Dawn Burgess. I spent one afternoon with her and we have been friends ever since. Here in Peru, I spent several days with her and her family/friends. They had a spare room for me so it was quite comfy. Much of the time I spent on my own while she was at work, but I didn’t mind since she too lives a couple of blocks from the beach. I found myself out there a lot, writing. One day we went out to a place called Lachay, which is a couple of hours north in the middle of the desert. As you drive literally through dunes and barren landscape for as far as the eye can see, you then take a detour on a dirt road and head to where the eyes cannot see,.. the clouds. As you enter the clouds you slowly begin to see growth on the ground. First, little grasses begin to show, then bushes, and even trees. With plants, come birds and other life. We hiked around for a couple of hours in this strange oasis. The moisture in the air was enough that by the time we were done, we were wet and somewhat cold. It was a wonderfully eerie hike through the clouds with all of the strangely shaped trees in the mist and the imposing granite boulders that seemed to appear out of nowhere in the fog. Truly an amazing sight to see in the middle of a desert. On a different day, Paola took me to one of the old catholic cathedrals/convents in downtown. She used to be a tour guide there, so they let us in for free and we got to be by ourselves as we wandered the catacombs. Supposedly there are 7 levels of burials below the one level that we got see. How many thousands of people were buried there? In just the level that I saw, there were representative bones for hundreds, if not thousands already. Catholic cathedrals are amazing structures, but there is a very obvious reason that they are a common centerpiece for horror movies, they are creepy!

On a different note, that same evening as Paola walked me through Lima’s little Chinatown, we found out her sister had been robbed and as far as we knew, no one had heard from her after a phone call ended in a scream and the phone number was disconnected shortly thereafter. You can imagine Paola’s panic and fear for her sister as she made call after call to different people trying to accomplish something. Imagine the frustration that comes with the feelings of helplessness and knowing that the police would be useless in a case like this down here. As we were driving back to her house, I said a prayer in my heart, that if something did happen, that there were only objects robbed and nothing else, and that we would find out soon that her sister was fine. No sooner had I closed my prayer in my mind, Paola received a call from her aunt saying that her sister was fine and that they had stolen her phone and some other things, but that, other than being a little shook up, nothing else had happened. What an incredible Father in Heaven we have, who answers prayers so immediately. God is there, and he is listening. Just talk to him. After having seen a few other sights around the city of Lima and its outskirts, I finished my stay with a visit to the Lima Temple of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. There I served my God and those who have gone before.

What better way to volunteer than to give your time to our Heavenly Father. I make a point of noting this because as I have roughly scheduled out my journey’s timetables, and it looks like if I want to get home by Nov. or Dec then I can only volunteer at maybe three more locations for two weeks each. Travel appears to be a lot more slow going than I had originally anticipated. So much of the service I will be doing on this trip will be done in the Temples of our God. Of course things can change quickly and I may not even get that, but that is what I hope.

I haven’t spoken much on the actual travel portion of my journeys. Perhaps mostly because it isn’t usually that interesting. For now I have used public transportation. It is not too costly, and the people here are not accustomed to giving free rides to hitchhikers. However, this does mean I share a double-decker bus with many kinds of people. I have seen all types, even drunks that have boarded. The conditions are not terribly uncomfortable for a few hours, but more than 6 becomes excessive and considerably uncomfortable. I tell you this because the bus ride from Lima to Cuzco was 23 hours nonstop up winding mountain roads. I made the mistake of eating the food they provided and by about 6 hours into the trip I was hit with food poisoning. From the sounds and smells on the bus and the sights seen in the bathroom with no toilet seat, I was not the only one who got sick, whether from motion or food. For those of you with weak stomachs, I apologize and you may not want to continue reading the rest of this paragraph. I describe the scene only to show that this trip is not all fun and games and it comes with its misery and pain. The bathroom on the bus was soon even more unsanitary than it was at the start and if you were lucky enough to not be sick from the food, the smells and sights of the excrements, both on the toilet and in the sink, would soon do the job. To make matters worse, in most public restrooms down here, you must provide your own toilet paper. This was no exception. Well, like an idiot American I left mine in my bag in the luggage compartment. Unused pages from my notebook were my saving grace. Crumpling and re-crumpling can do wonders for comfort. Pain and misery were my companions the entire rest of the trip. Needless to say, I did not sleep much. As icing on the cake, the change of altitudes was very apparent in my throat and head. What could have been a beautiful and picturesque ride was turned into a nightmare and will go down in the books as one of the worst rides of my life. Cuzco could not come soon enough.

To end on a happier note, I arrived safe in Cuzco and found a hotel. In spite of the fever and chills I had for the first couple of hours in bed, I ended up sleeping quite well the rest of the night. The only good thing about food poisoning, is that it usually only lasts a day or so. I spent this morning walking around Cuzco a bit, seeing the various Catholic cathedrals and then caught a little van (combi) to Urubamba an hour away. So having just gotten over food poisoning yesterday, it may not have been a good night to try cuy.

The days here are quite warm and the nights can get quite cold. That’s the life of the adventurer. The mountains remind me a bit of the Wasatch Front mountains of Utah. I do mean the side that you can see from the cities and not so much the forest areas. I am in what the people here consider to be the Sacred Valley and it truly is gorgeous. I hiked up one of the mountains this afternoon and though I felt the altitude, the reward was worth it as I looked out over the valley. In front of me lay the valley filled with little houses and behind me were snowcapped mountains. It was breathtaking. As I sat and watched the sunset over the mountains I knew that this is the gift given to those who are willing to put forth just a little effort. I am always glad when I do. With that all being said, I leave you in God’s hands and will hopefully write again soon.

Photos added

I've made a small slideshow on the home page and additional pages with slide shows from the major areas Mike has visited. Mike has commented on a few photos on his Facebook page, The World Through My Eyes.

The slide shows may not be visible on devices that limit/restrict Flash, like a standard iPad.

Enjoy!

-Chris

Merazonia

I suppose I should begin this with an apology to any and all that may have been concerned due to my lack of updates for two or three weeks. I do have a valid excuse.

After leaving Ferrenafe, and those incredible people I was blessed to have been able to get to know and to work with, I caught a bus up to Guayaquil Ecuador, where I spent my first day hiking around a portion of the city searching out the LDS temple with only the vision of having seen it from the airplane as my map. As often happens with me, I managed to hike almost directly to it, only to find out it was closed due to the day being a Monday.
Oops. It’s hard to remember what day of the week it is. I guess I’m just lucky enough to still be able to recognize when it’s day or night. I then sought out a hostel.

After several hours of hiking I finally found one in the evening. I hadn’t realized it at the time, but it was apparently in a shady portion of the city. I only know this because I left that evening to find a supermarket, which happened to be only a couple of blocks away. About a half a block away from my hostel I saw two groups of youth and suddenly the group closest to me started screaming, “Run!” to each other. No sooner had they bolted, almost immediately about one to three feet behind my head, a boulder a little bigger than a softball smashed into the van window I had just barely passed, shattering it with ease and sending shards spraying onto my back and down my shirt. It had, apparently been hurled by the group that was further away from me. Just one second earlier and I may not have been able to be writing this or anything else, ever again. Shortly after the smash, a couple of cops came running down the street and everyone was scattering. In spite of being startled, I did not feel threatened and continued my casual pace around the corner and left it all for others to deal with. No harm done. Upon walking up to the store, the first thing I saw was a transvestite chased down and tackled by security as he was accused of shoplifting. I walked past and entered the store. I will admit that after I was done shopping, I walked a little more briskly back to the hostel.

The next day I made my way back to the temple and after serving there, I got into a conversation with a lovely missionary couple, Brother and Sister Christiansen, whom I think were excited to have someone to speak to in English. Funny thing is that I had entered there with the question on my mind as to whether or not I should head up to this animal refuge/rehab location over in the Amazon. As I was chatting with them, another gentleman who used to be a tour guide came and began talking with me and he then gave me all of the info I needed to know on how to get to the pueblo where I needed to go and when to catch the bus and what hostel to stay in. To me, it was a clear answer that I should head out there.

The bus I caught, took me to a very touristy location called Banos de Aguas Santos.

I arrived at night so could not see my surroundings, but knew there were mountains in every direction due to the floating lights, or else I had a mass UFO sighting. It is a small pueblo with a very peaceful feel to it. As I walked the cobblestone streets I felt very relaxed. Whether false or not I did have a very real sense of security. In the morning I had breakfast on the roof where I was presented with the spectacular scene of a volcano on one side and waterfalls on other sides and low clouds covering the mountaintops. Green in all directions. It was breathtaking. The village is old-fashioned, but well kept and clean. It is apparently a hub for those that have an adventurous side. Anything from river rafting, to relaxing in the hot pots. My purpose, though some may think otherwise, is not to be entirely on vacation. So I boarded the next bus that would take me to an even tinier town just exiting the mountains called Mera. I found myself asking the people how to get to Merazonia, which is the name of the rescue/rehab facility. It seemed most did not know of it and I began to wonder, but then I found someone who guided me to a taxi service called Transmera where I boarded a pickup and we took a dirt road straight into the jungle and on the mountain side. After five mins of driving, we came to a decent sized river with a bridge. The driver said, “Here it is. Just cross that bridge.” So I paid him and thanked him and found myself alone in the Amazon.

I crossed the bridge and found two paths, one to the left and one to the right. I guessed right by choosing left and hiked for a ways when I came to a hexagonally shaped two story cabin.

For some reason I had several different fairy tales going through my head about cabins in the woods. In spite of those anticipations I called out “hello” and was greeted by the barking of three dogs. Luckily there was a fence. I thought for sure the nonstop barking would get the attention of someone, but after ten mins of waiting I concluded I was wrong.

At this point my doubts about going there in the first place started to build on themselves and I turned around and crossed the bridge with the intent of giving up on the whole idea. However, God has a way of taking control when we’ve done our part because as I reached the other side, Frank, the manager of the place just happened to be walking back from catching fish for the otter. He had a stunned look on his face.

It turns out my email had been placed in a strange folder and he had just barely found it and had no clue when it had been written or even by whom. Nonetheless, he was grateful I was there since they had just lost a few volunteers that couldn’t hack the “roughing it” lifestyle. Well, after all the confusion had settled, I met the current crew whom I will not really introduce you to in any detail, but merely tell you that each one of them are incredible persons with hearts as big as the oceans and a love and passion for life that is second to none. They are all true examples of selfless love and in the two weeks I was with them I learned tons about myself. They helped me to become aware of how I would like to improve and become more like them in so many ways. I will mention names, but without permission I will be discrete in any other info I release.

From England there was Marcus and Jenni who are volunteer coordinators, Colette who is one of the short-term volunteers, and Luisa who helps manage and takes care of the veterinary needs of the animals. Frank is from Holland and as I mentioned manages the place. Dee is from Ireland and is likewise one of the volunteer coordinators, Freddy from Germany and Manu from France are both short-term volunteers, Tanja from Switzerland, and Anthony and Tif from Louisiana are likewise short-term volunteers as was I. It was truly a pleasure getting to know and working with them.

For any of you who might be looking for an opportunity to work with wild animals, this is the opportunity of a lifetime to work with an organization that does what it’s supposed to according to its title.

Any facility that claims the title of refuge/rehab center should do just that, unfortunately all too many of them enjoy the money too much and design their centers as tourist attractions to bring in money, which is okay if they still do what they are supposed to, but unfortunately many will hang onto many of their big attractions with no real intent of releasing them back into the wild. This is a real problem throughout the world. Especially since most of these centers don’t have the facilities to make the enclosures spacious and beneficial to the animal’s health and comfort as you might find in a zoo. Rehab center enclosures are often somewhat smaller for better access and observation in order to prepare for release, which is the ultimate desire. I will tell you now Merazonia does exactly what it is supposed to and you will not see tourists. In fact they try to keep a minimal human contact for those animals nearing release.

So if you are wanting someplace where you can handle the animals all the time, look elsewhere. The work days are just that, work. We do the first rounds of cleaning cages and feeding at 7:30a.m., then we do chores to keep the place in healthy conditions for the people living there. For whatever hours we have left when we are done with that until 2p.m. we do projects which for me mostly consisted of building up several enclosures and making them safe for the animals and then we also built a new otter enclosure. At 3p.m. we do rounds again and are usually done by around 5 or 5:30p.m. This happens six days a week and on Sundays it’s the same minus the project hours. There is no electricity nor plumbing for toilets. So if you have a problem with that or with strange potentially dangerous insects and animals then go work at a zoo.

My experience was incredible. I came to truly love all of the animals, even when they didn’t seem to love me. Funny thing is that previous to going there, I had told myself I would never want to work with monkeys or birds and yet those are the primary animals you will find at this and other refuges. It was perfect because you never grow more, than when you have to deal with things you may not like. Who knows, your opinion may even change, as mine did. Not to mention even though I have never changed a diaper in my life, I’m pretty confident I’ve cleaned up more than enough excrements to consider myself ready for the mess. My heart goes out to all the CNAs and orderlies out there.

I got to work with capuchins, tamarins, woolly monkeys, and a howler. The birds consisted of orange wings, black headed parrots, blue headed parrots, parakeets, blue and gold macaws, and the green ones as well. Other animals consisted of a baby coati, an otter, kinkajous, a guatin, and there is a puma as well, but he is strictly only dealt with by a couple of people, so I never saw him. Almost all are native to the area and I even saw a troop of tamarins a couple of times as they tried to steal food. Other wild animals seen there consisted of a south American coral snake (yes it is potentially deadly), an equis which is another deadly viper, three other unidentified snakes, a 2 to 3 foot long bluish earthworm, and two of the others saw a jaguarundi, which is a wild cat. In addition to all of that, I saw at the very least, 2 new species of insects and spiders each day. All shapes, sizes, and colors including some that seem to be a chimera of creatures. I often wondered how often I walked right past creatures both deadly and nonlethal alike, without even knowing it.

The rainforest is an amazing place and I never tired of just sitting and staring into it. It’s much like staring into the eyes of one you love, the beauty is mesmerizing and I’d find myself lost in it with no desires to be found. The rain was frequent and as long as you are indoors it was soothing and relaxing, but it does have its drawbacks since it makes it 100% humidity and it is impossible to keep things dry. I washed my clothes on a Tues and by the following Sunday they were still not dry. Rubber boots are worn everywhere and even still I often found myself sinking thigh deep into mud thus eliminating the usefulness of the boots. Quicksand is a very real thing though I never saw any deep enough to swallow me. Sometimes the rain is hard enough that it doesn’t matter what rain gear you have, you will get wet.

One of the greatest accomplishments made during my time there was the completion of a new otter enclosure funded by the university in Quito. Sunday they brought the tv crew out there and filmed us moving Adam the otter to his new place. I wish you could have seen how happy he was. Adam is my favorite.


Otters are like the perfect mix of a dog, a cat, and a fish. So, it appears I will be on Ecuadoran television.

I left on Sunday evening and two days later, I find myself in Peru again. I am in the city of Trujillo for a couple of nights before I head down to Lima. I miss the jungle already. The only thing I do love about the desert here though is the sunsets, which is something you miss out on in the rainforest. I miss the peace. I miss how relaxed I always felt. Give me the dangers of the jungle and I will sleep more peacefully than ever.

I have never slept so well as I did the past two weeks, and my bed wasn’t even that comfortable. Some may be disturbed by the sounds in the rainforest at night, but to me they were a lullaby.

On a different note, I would say that I miss home, but I’m not sure where that is. I do miss my country and the luxuries that come from staying in one place.

While I was in Ferrenafe, I was flipping through the channels and saw a familiar dance performance and realized it was BYUTV and the piece was one my friend Lori performed in. Feelings certainly stirred inside me and I missed those I love. Then, two days ago in Ecuador while waiting for my bus I was watching tv in a little shop and the lady was watching some movie that was clearly made by locals in UT since it was cheaply made and was all in Provo and finished with a temple marriage… Seeing those mountains didn’t help either.

Well, my next target is Bolivia with a few stops along the way. I hope to be there by the latest, the last week of this month, but we’ll see.

Bioarchaeology

It has certainly been an interesting and extremely educational couple of weeks since the last time that I wrote. First of all, I made it to Chiclayo Peru safely. Unfortunately, my luggage did not follow me. In Guayaquil Ecuador, where I switched flights to fly down to Lima, my one piece of luggage was not transferred, most likely because I was the only person to switch flights, so my bag continued on to Quito Ecuador while I flew south.

Upon arrival in Lima I was held up in baggage claim for a couple of hours filing a lost luggage claim. Due to the fact that I had no permanent address or phone number to give them, things were not sorted as easily as they might otherwise have been. The claim people left me with a number to call when I found a hotel to stay in upon my arrival in Chiclayo. They advised that I call as soon as I had an address and phone number that I could give them. So I boarded my flight and flew back up north again to the city of Chiclayo.

I soon found a nice little hotel and I booked 3 nights with them in hopes that it would be sufficient time to have my bag returned to me. As soon as I checked in, I called the airline company. They told me what had happened with the bag and said it would be delivered the next day to my hotel. That was a bit of a relief, though I would not relax until my bag was in hand. I don’t know what I would have done had I not got it back.

The next day came and I called again. They told me the next fight that it could arrive on would be at 8 pm. The time came and went. Nothing. I decided to leave it until morning. In the morning my backpack was still missing.

By midday I decided to take things into my own hands and walked to the airport where I found everyone sitting on their backsides doing nothing. When I presented my problem, they casually walked off to another room and brought the bag out to me. I was rather distraught knowing that it had arrived the previous day and that they were far from being busy, yet appeared to care little about the fact that I was living without my stuff. Nonetheless, I truly was grateful to have my stuff in hand and to be able to get cleaned up and into different clothes. I had been in the same everything since Sat and it was now Tues afternoon. What good is a shower if you just put on dirt. What a bother.

Now let me describe my arrival to Chiclayo. Upon approach you could see that everything for miles in all directions was dry forest and desert. The city was as brown as the sand around the outskirts. As the plane stopped, I noticed that it was the only plane in the entire little airport. I also noticed that half of the airport seemed to be some sort of military airbase that shared the runways. There were hangers everywhere with nothing in them, and as I mentioned before, no other planes or jets or even military personnel. I assumed maybe the base was no longer in service. I found out later that it is an active airbase and there are apparently a couple of migs stationed there.

Anyway, they rolled the stairs up to the 737 and as I walked down them and across the tarmac I had my camera out and was filming. The next thing I knew I was getting yelled at to turn off the camera. Oops J. I guess they don’t like people filming their awesome military power.

The city of Chiclayo is fairly clean as cities in South America go. There is still a lot of trash and pollution, but not too bad. My first couple of experiences with the public seemed rather unfriendly. As I walked up on a crowd along a sidewalk and asked a guy what was going on, he looked at me like I was crazy and then mumbled something as he quickly moved away from me. Hmmm, strange.

I continued walking the streets and came to the Plaza de las Armas where I found a much larger crowd and saw that there was a flag ceremony going on with all of the military and police being all official. So I naturally wondered if this was a special day or if they did this every night? Well, I asked a guy, and once again I got the same look of disgust, but this guy didn’t even give me the satisfaction of a grunt. He just looked at me with this scowl on his face. I asked again, but rather then answer, he too turned and walked away. I was beginning to wonder if everyone here was rude to foreigners or if I was just the lucky one.

I have come to realize since then that it truly was dumb luck and the people are good and kind people for the most part.

One thing I do find interesting here is the huge lack of dogs. You will understand what I mean if you have been to any of these types of countries.

Anyway, on Tues., after my luggage arrived, I took a trip out to the Ferrenafe where the National Museum of Sican is located. There I met with Dr. Haagen Klaus, a bioarchaeologist and professor of anthropology and biology at Utah Valley University. After discussing a few things, he put me right to work for the next several hours at a desk freeing a human skull from the dirt and clay matrix that encased it. It is a delicate job and should only be done with a small stick and a brush. Strangely, I actually really enjoyed it.
It’s like a small discovery as you dig through the encasement and a human skull slowly comes into shape. I love detail work. I guess it’s the artist in me.

The next morning I showed up at 8 a.m. as I have every morning since and often earlier and worked primarily as a personal assistant to Dr. Klaus. We mostly examined boxes of unidentified bones and identified them as human or nonhuman along with what bone the piece pertained to. We would then analyze if there were any abnormalities or pathology that could be derived from what we saw.
It’s really quite fascinating and amazing the things you can decipher from human remains, even when they are hundreds of years old.

There are 5 other students in the lab and they have been out here in the field working with Dr. Klaus for the past month and a half. They are all great people and easy to get along with. They are also incredibly hard workers and much further along in this field than myself. This should not come as a surprise since this is what they are all pursuing as careers. My only saving grace is my knowledge of anatomy (which has increased immensely since working here), and my willingness to work hard, long days.

After dinner each night, Dr. Klaus and I would return to the lab and work an additional 2 or 3 hours longer. Thanks to my father, I have a very solid work ethic and am used to working long hours. One of the other main things I do with Dr. Klaus if measure dental biodistance, from which information we can derive a fairly accurate assessment of relation amongst the different burials. After getting done with all of the comingled remains we moved onto boxes containing mostly complete skeletal remains found in specific burials and analyzed them.

On my first Fri., Dr. Daniel Fairbanks, an Associate Dean in the science dept. at UVU, a book author, published geneticist, and a well-known artist arrived. His purpose in coming down was considerably different than ours. With the use of a device designed by, I believe he said Leonardo De Vinci, he was able to sculpt, with exactness, replicas of several of the skulls that have been excavated. Then, back in the States, he can sculpt muscles and skin onto them and thus recreate a likeness of what the person may have looked like when they were alive. This process is often used in forensics. I have seen some of his work and it is stunning what he can do. There are many museums in the area of northern Peru and I was blessed with the opportunity to accompany him and Dr. Klaus to several of them. He did skull replications for 4 of them. One of the replications will be indicative of one of the Lords of Sipan. It will be fascinating to see the results. The chance to rub shoulders and work side by side with these well known experts in their fields, along with several other well known archaeologists here in Peru is truly unprecedented and an opportunity that few will ever have. A blessing above and beyond my expectations.

For those of you who do not know, which I suspect is most of you, the Sican are a more ancient people than the Inkas by several hundreds of years. The Sican were first established sometime around 700 or 800 AD and were stronk until around 1100 or 1200 AD. The Inkas came a couple of hundred years later.

In the past two and a half weeks I have been to many museum backrooms and labs. I have seen artifacts that have been seen by few eyes and will most likely never be displayed for public viewing. I have had my own personal archaeologist as my tour guide through many museums and at many archaeological sites (An experience that I wish I could duplicate at all museums).

I have explored several massive pyramids in the area and have excavated human remains from burials at the bases of them. I participated in the excavation of the largest mass burial site of its kind, containing over 170 human skeletons so far, with the final count expected to be much higher. I have dug in 30 ft deep pits with scorpions and spiders along side me. I have been bitten by countless mosquitoes in very hot and humid weather. I have seen and experienced things that few will ever have or take the opportunity to live, but most importantly, I have fulfilled a childhood dream of being Indiana Jones.

Some videos

This is Mike's brother posting. These are some short videos Mike took on his trip to Iguazu falls, and a little bit of tango. We're still curious about the full story of finding the tango dancers and then "performing." I'm posting most of the videos and photos on Mike's blog, and the videos I've been converting from the full 1080 HD to a small mobile format for quicker uploads and viewing. The HD is much more impressive, especially of the falls.

-Chris

Mision Buenos Aires Oeste

I find myself typing this in an interesting location. I’m sitting in an airport in Guayaquil Ecuador because of a layover. I flew out of Buenos Aires this afternoon (Sat 2nd), and ended up here at 9:30 this evening. My flight at 7 a.m. will then take me back down to southern Peru where I will have a 5 hour layover in Lima from which I will catch my final flight back up to Northern Peru and arrive in Chiclayo tomorrow evening. I will have flown over my destination twice before finally landing on the third pass. Ridiculous.

So, the mission was incredible! Nearly three weeks of physically exhausting, frequently uncomfortable, and often mentally draining hard, hard work. I wouldn’t trade it for the world and in fact, I traded the world for it. If I were to share all of the spiritually saturated experiences I had in that short time, I would fill a good twenty pages. Instead, I will tickle your taste buds with a handful of special spiritually uplifting experiences to show a little about the life of a servant of the Lord. Before I do that, I will share a little about the incredible spiritual giants I was blessed with the privilege of serving alongside. First off, as you may know, my fulltime mission was in Guatemala years ago. So, I ask you, was it a coincidence that one of the two elders in the other companionship in our apt just happened to be the only Guatemalan in the mission? I think God knew I needed someone to translate the Argentine castellano into Guatemalan Spanish for me so I wouldn’t offend anyone ha ha. Elder Ponce is one of the most bold, courageous and faithful missionaries I’ve met, with a passion for the work and a smile that lights up a room. Elder Streadbeck, his companion, is only surpassed in physical height by his spirit and a heart big enough that the whole world could feel his love for them and he’d still have love to spare. He’s been in the field only a couple of months and already speaks Spanish better than many missionaries do after an entire mission! Now last, but most certainly not the least, is my own companion Elder Lopez. Elder Lopez is a half Mexican that didn’t speak any Spanish until the mission. No worries, he speaks it now, and quite well I might add. What can I say about the man who trained me? Elder Lopez was the District Leader and was an incredible example of not only obedience (which we all know I need. J), but he was the perfect example of a leader who demands no more than he himself is willing and capable of giving. A leader whom I saw on many occasion share a greater love for those elders under his stewardship than many people in places of higher authority. The care and concern he felt for those elders might only be surpassed by his faith in the promises God has made through His servants such as President Carter, the mission president. The man showed me everyday, unintentionally, how close he is to the Spirit by sharing scriptures perfect for each individual we spoke with. Truly, these are men of God and I found myself humbled in many instances to be in the presence of these and other soldiers of our Father in Heaven. Indeed, in a Zone Conference, the Spirit overwhelmed this body and I was left with only the ability to allow the tears to flow as they sang their title hymn of “Called To Serve”. What a blessing I was granted. Truly it was an unprecedented and a once in a lifetime opportunity.

My mission was filled with moments where in spite of my not knowing these people, the Lord used me as a mouthpiece to share just the right experiences with the people at just the right time and in many instances I was privileged to see the Spirit touch their hearts deeply, bringing many to tears. I can testify that the spirit of forgiveness worked in many hearts as we preached the gospel of repentance. I was granted the opportunity to witness young Fidel as he begins the lineage of the true followers of Christ in his immediate family by being baptized by his 17 year old cousin Alvaro who is the first in his immediate family to do the same! Awesome! We got Mary to come back to church after many years of inactivity and because of that, her daughters Mariana and Leila will soon be baptized! Incredible! Estela, a widow with her two daughters has committed to baptism in two weeks after having read the Book of Mormon faithfully and recognizing its divine nature! How cool is that?! Then we have Veronica who is only waiting to be married in order to be baptized! She already considers herself a member! The field is white my dear friends, just thrust in that sickle already!

I served in an area called Moreno. It primarily covered a very poor area with mostly dirt or rather muddy roads, since it either rained or was cloudy nearly every day I was there. We worked nonstop everyday, walking quickly to each house so as to help the greatest amount of people we could. Weekly we would speak to over 150 people in the streets and on the buses and trains. Fear of speaking to strangers is a luxury a missionary must live without. On more than one occasion we would speak to entire buses both cumulatively and then individually. My first week in the field I had a cold and my feet were covered in blisters that I kept finding for the next two weeks since my shoes didn’t fit nor were they designed for that. They, along with all of my missionary clothing were borrowed. This last week I also had stomach flu, but with all of these things, the work must always go on. When you know you have something so special that everyone needs, these are just petty annoyances.

Everyday a missionary wakes up at 6:30 am and begins his day with exercise until 7 and then food and getting cleaned up until 8.
Then he studies the scriptures, both modern and old to increase the Spirit’s ability to use him/her as a tool. From 9-10am the companionship studies together from the inspired manual Preach My Gospel so they can better understand how to deliver the messages properly and effectively to the anxiously awaiting ears. For the last half hour before hittin the dirt they study the language in order to make sure nothing will stand in the way of a clear communication of the Spirit to the hearts of those willing to accept. The faithful missionary then steps out into the field and speaks to every man, woman, and child of the truths that will bring salvation and pure happiness. He does this for the next 11 hours or so when they finally return home only to sit down for 30 minutes and plan how to be most efficient and effective in the following day and what the needs of each individual investigator are so that they can meet them and prepare them for the waters of baptism. Then, if you are like my comp, and have the task of being a District or Zone Leader, you spend whatever precious little time you have left til lights out, calling every missionary under your stewardship and making sure all is in order. Personal time…what’s that?

The chance to step into the field again with the experiences I’ve had, allowed me to hopefully reach some people who may have been more difficult to reach. At the very least, I pray I was more than just a companion. If no one else was changed or affected by my service, I certainly was and I thank my God frequently that I was able to meet and interact with such incredible members like Vanesa who helped us out day in and day out. She has only been a member for months, but the fire is so powerful inside her it is nearly impossible to avoid ignition. I thank her and many others for the example of what we all should be.

Well, I have written enough for now and must attempt to sleep in this airport. “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” John 14:27