Descent Through the Cloud Forest in Manu National Park, Peru

August 2011

Before preparing for my trip, I was only aware of the rain forest in  the northern areas of Peru where the Amazon begins its eastward journey to the Atlantic Ocean.  But the greater part of Peru (60%) consists of east-of-the-Andes lowland forests and jungles where countless streams and rivers form the headwaters of the Amazon.  This area is protected from development by the government and is sparsely populated, primarily by native peoples.

I had not heard before of the Parque National del Manu in the southeastern Amazon basin, but perhaps its obscurity has aided its preservation.  The park has nearly 4.5 million acres and is not only one of the largest rain forest preserves in South America, but is considered one of the most important and bio-diverse tropical parks in the world.  The park has more types of birds than the USA and Canada combined (800+); more butterfly types than all of Europe (1200 to 400); 13 species of monkeys; and more than 20,000 plant species.  In short, it is a remarkable place on earth!  It is recommended in Patricia Schultz's 1,000 Places to See Before You Die with this apt description:   "Admittedly, Manu is difficult to get to:  tours involve limited and rustic accommodations....and reputable, experienced guides are a must.  Manu is not for the unadventurous, but what an adventure it is!"  Spot on, as the Brits say.

One of  the reasons Manu is so diverse is that it starts high in the Andes and descends through a "cloud forest" before it reaches the lowland basin.   Near the entrance to the park (permits must be obtained) stands a monument to Dr. Sven Ericsson who did much to preserve the Madre de Dios (Manu) area. During our descent,  the roads became even more narrow and treacherous (see prior Crossing Andes post) due to beautiful cascading waterfalls whose water made the dirt and gravel roads  muddy and  slippery.  Several times the van became stuck in watery ruts, and we had to get out of the van to lighten it.

On those and other occasions, we proceeded on foot for a while to enjoy the beauty of the  forest.   The vegetation had changed from scrub brush to giant ferns and umbrella trees.  Our knowledgeable guides from Manu Adventures listened for bird calls of exotic birds and helped us spot them.  Unfortunately, the birds often darted out of sight or moved before the camera could be readied, making it hard to get a focused photo.

But we saw large red-throated caracaras soaring over the mountain clouds and an immature solitary eagle who posed for us in a tree before taking flight over the misty valley.  We spotted the green jay (slideshow)  and the white-collared jay as well as the crimson-mantled woodpecker (slideshow), social flycatcher, blue banded toucanet, and a number of camera-shy toucans.  The most remarkable bird, though, was the brilliant red-orange Andean Cock-of-the-Rock, the national bird of Peru.  The male's face is almost covered in its orange feathers, so the beak is almost indistinguishable and only the small eyes show through.  We also noticed an ocelot track, but the only cats we actually saw were the domestic ones at the lodge.


At the end of our first day's journey from Cuzco, we settled in at the Orquideas de San Pedro Lodge.  There were wooden sleeping quarters and beds with mosquito netting (with some holes), but the walls separating the rooms did not go to the ceiling or roof--including the outside walls--allowing noise and insects free access (probably allows summer ventilation).  Electricity was only available  from 6-9 pm, so we hurried to the separate bathroom building after a satisfying supper and then to our wooden-slat beds and blankets (it was a cool winter night) before lights went out.  In the morning, Teddie was sure we had had constant rain all night, but we were delighted to find it was just a beautiful river that ran alongside our building.  One of the showers thought it was a waterfall, spewing water with no knob, but few of us wanted a cold shower that cold morning.  Certainly, not me.

Just as we were leaving,  our guide spotted something moving up the road: monkeys.  We spent the next 15 minutes entertained by a troop of brown capuchin monkeys.  They were at first cautious, but then moved right in front of us to eat their breakfast.  It was a photographer's dream, but then my nightmare started.  My wonderful DSLR camera that has reliably served me for years started to falter.   I fumbled through my backpack for my small alternate camera and was ready to shoot again about the time the monkeys were ready to move on.  I was devastated.  Fortunately, Teddie generously has allowed me to use some of her photos (including panoramics) to fill in my gaps through our trip (a mutual agreement).  The monkeys were amazing.  They say that capuchins are the most intelligent of the monkey groups in South America--showing use of tools, learning through observation, and "reasoning."

Continuing down to the Amazon basin, we stopped in a small town to see them make the wonderful round rolls we loved to eat.  There was a typical cluster of guinea pigs in this rural kitchen that might someday be a dinner delicacy when they tired of chicken (pollo), their most frequent meat.  We then headed to the town of Pilcopata where we put on our life jackets for rafting down the Koshnipata River (van had the luggage) after which we boarded our "jungle boat" to reach Erika, our camp on the Rio Madre de Dios.  Come back in a few days for our river journey.

Click below for slideshow:
Through the Cloud Forest

Music:  Inca Son, Rio Amazones, Peru-A Musical Journey
More Information:
http://www.manuadventures.com/
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Manú_National_Park
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Capuchin_monkey
Insight Guides: Peru, APA Publications
Patricia Schultz, 1,000 Places to See Before You Die

Journey to the Peruvian Rainforest: Crossing the Andes to Manu

August 2011

Peru--the land of golden treasures, mighty kingdoms, tangled jungles, mystic mountains, floating islands, and unexplained lines in the desert.  This  mysterious land has always intrigued me, so after being inspired by a Peruvian friend and the reports of other friends who have traveled there, several of us decided we would make the journey this summer.   My friend, Teddie, worked with our Peruvian friend in the US (in English) who communicated with her patient travel agent in Peru (in Spanish) as we made numerous and complicated changes to an ever-expanding  itinerary, changing a 10 day journey into 3 weeks.

In the end, there were three of us for the entire journey, joined by a couple we knew for two of the weeks.  Fortunately, one of them spoke Spanish better than I did despite my tapes and mini-courses.
We traveled individually to Lima--meeting the first night at the Ramada Costa del Sol Hotel in Lima across the street from the Jorges Chavez Airport terminal.  As Lima is a sprawling city with terrible traffic, it was worth the added cost to stay by the airport because we had a flight the next morning to Cuzco, the ancient capital of the Incas.  We were early to the airport, but ended up with an extra hour delay.  However, we became quick friends with a Japanese family, using gestures and Japanese-Spanish and Spanish-English dictionaries.  One of them gave us each neck and back massages while the little girl made and shared origami birds.  We were almost sad when the plane arrived.  Imagine our surprise when we all ended up at the same out-of-the-way (but very good) restaurant later that afternoon in Cuzco.

We took time to adjust to the altitude by wandering around Cuzco that afternoon.  Cuzco is 10,800 ft or 3,300 m in altitude, and I live at sea level.   That raised the question --to medicate or not?  I had decided with my physician to bring Diamox (acetazolamide) to prevent altitude sickness (she had needed it on her trip to Peru).  Those in our group who regularly lived in the mountains were ok without it, but we all drank lots of water and the cocoa tea that was available at all the restaurants and hotels.  It is a weak non-narcotic drink made from the leaves of the cocoa plant (which is an ingredient in producing cocaine) to prevent altitude sickness.  It seemed to help, and we never had any "strange" effects.  However, you are warned not to try to take any of the leaves or products back to the US.  I was huffing and puffing when we later got to 13,000 ft., but was never sick from the altitude.

That evening we met with our guides from Manu Adventures and signed a release, not fully appreciating what lay before us.  Very early the next morning, their van pulled up and the three of us joined 6 other adventurous spirits headed to the rain forest.  As would be true for most of our journeys, our world-wide companions were young, vigorous, interesting, and kind.  Spending hours in the van going over bumpy and treacherous roads, we quickly bonded, and they were helpful and patient when some of us older folk needed a hand or extra time.

The Andes mountain range is the world's largest continental range, stretching 7,000 km (14,300 miles) from Venezuela to  Tierra del Fuego on the tip of South America.  It goes through 7 countries with an average height of 4,000 meters (13,000 feet).  It was (and is still being) formed by action on the Pacific Ring of Fire with the sliding continental plates causing volcanic eruptions and frequent earthquakes, especially in Peru and Chile.  We were fortunate not to have any while we were there, but  2 days after we returned home, there was a 7. 0 quake in northern Peru.   The highland Andes in Peru separate the large eastern rain forest basin from the arid coastal desert.  Our flight from Lima to Cuzco took us more than halfway across the Andes, but it was still a full day's journey to our camp.  With the planned stops and walks, it actually took us a day and a half to get there, but only one day to return.

Leaving Cuzco, we traveled on a well- paved and spacious highway past towns just starting to awake at the foot of forested and terraced mountains.  We stopped in the small town where some ate  breakfast.  Walking, bikes, and hand-pulled carts seemed their preferred in-town transportation.  The Incan origins and connections were strong, with ancient terraces on the hills and an Incan warrior watching over their river.

We then climbed through misty, foggy mountain peaks with rocky crags and little vegetation, looking for elusive chinchillas that sadly stayed hidden.  The paved road turned to dirt and gravel and narrowed as we found ourselves on twisting "roads" with no safety rails or  protective shoulders.  It was customary to honk as you rounded a blind corner, but there were numerous times when we would unexpectedly find ourselves confronting a pedestrian, a herd of sheep, a stray cow, or a speeding truck that had not bothered to honk back.  This was a concern, as the roads were barely wide enough for one vehicle, and the alternative was a long drop into a mountain ravine.  Teddie looked up the mortality rates for  accidents in Peru when we got home and was not surprised to find out that in 2009, there were over 3,500 deaths and 50,000 injuries, many of which happened on mountain roads.  Peru has the 3rd highest death rate for traffic accidents in the world, behind Venezuela (1st) and Mexico (2nd).  The History Channel is doing a tv series on the world's deadliest roads, and I understand driving in the Andes will be featured.  However, we did return unharmed with no accidents.

At the time, though, we were too busy enjoying the beautiful play of sunshine and clouds over mountains and trying to get photos of llama and sheep farms while bumping up and down to think much about our danger.   We did, however, stop for a wounded Andean snipe (bird) to allow it to walk safely to the shrubs.

After several hours, we arrived in the charming town of Paucartambo, nestled on the banks of a sparkling river.  It was a quiet town with a small street market and women visiting in their colorful skirts and bright wraps.  However, for three days in July (15-17), thousands come to watch and participate in the Festival of the Virgin of Carmen held in the town.  We were told the festival begins with the entrance of dance groups called comparsas, who are "magnificently masked and costumed."  After festivities,  the crowds climb the hills to Tres Cruces where they watch the sun rise on the distant, green Amazon rain forest.

 The next day, the statue of the Virgin is paraded through the town, after which there are  more festivities.  They say it is a mix of Christian and ancient Incan celebrations with the Virgin, triangulated ( an Incan symbol) by her veil, representing not only the Mother of Christ, but also the more ancient Pachamama or Mother Earth.  In the main town square, we saw bronze statues that are frozen in time in their dancing, and further on, we entered the quiet church to view their revered Virgin.

A little longer on the road and we reached the entrance to Manu National Park and began our descent through the Bosque Nublado  or Cloud Forest to the Amazon Basin.  But that will be the story of my next post with monkeys and eagles and cascading waterfalls.

Click below for slideshow:
Crossing the Andes

Music:  Inca Son, Mi Cambio, Peru: A Musical Journey
Additional Information:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Andes
http://archive.livinginperu.com/blogs/travel/283  (Paucartambo)

Exploring Krakow and the Pierogi (Dumpling) Festival

August 2010

I admit:  I love being a tourist and having the freedom to spend a day enjoying and exploring a new place in our fascinating world.  And I can't think of a more delightful place to do that than Krakow (or Cracow), Poland.  While Warsaw is the modern capital of Poland, I have heard Krakow referred to as its heart.  It certainly is a fun and exciting place to be on a summer day.

They have found Stone Age remnants on Wawel Hill, and a hamlet was known to exist there since the 9th century AD.  But it was in its conquest by the Mongols in 1241 that Krakow became legendary.  They say a watchman in a tower sounded his trumpet to warn the town of the invaders, but  a Tartar arrow pierced his throat and cut short his warning.  This haunting melody known as the "henjal mariacki" was historically played in four directions to tell people of the opening and closing time for the city gates as well as for emergencies.  Today the short melody with its mid-note stop is played on the hour (during the daylight) by a trumpeter high in the Mariacki (St. Mary's) Basilica tower, after which the trumpeter waves his hand out the window to the crowds that gather below.  While there's not any historical reference to a slain trumpeter in the invasion, the legend at  least attempts to explain why the tune ends abruptly. The children's Newberry Award winner, The Trumpeter of Krakow, piqued my young curiosity about Krakow years ago and did much to popularize (and embellish) the legend.

Unfortunately, it wasn't only the Mongols who coveted Krakow.  The city was claimed by the Teutonic Knights, Russians, Swedes, Austrian Habsburgs, Nazis, and communists.  Fortunately, despite the conquests, much of the medieval and renaissance Old Town remains for us today.  The Mariacki Bascilica sits on one side of Market Square, the largest medieval market square in Europe.  The basilica was started in the 13th century and is renown not just for its towers, but for the extraordinary carved altar piece created by Veit Stoss in the 15th century.   Massive gilded doors cover the largest Gothic altar piece in Europe which is only available for viewing a short time each day or for special services.

In the center of Market Square is the remaining tower of the old Town Hall and the Clothier's Hall with its long gallery of stalls where medieval and renaissance vendors sold their wares.  Today it is tourists who bargain for a good deal on souvenirs.  The square is surrounded by fashionable houses and restaurants and is crowded with artists, musicians, flower vendors, street entertainers, horse-drawn carriages, outdoor cafes where you can just enjoy the scene and, of course, other tourists.  I had a delicious light supper at the cafe of the Wierzynek Restaurant that has been serving food there since 1364 (Europe's oldest continuous restaurant--be assured that the food and menu have been updated).

I had actually started my day with a  walking tour  of  the Kazimierz district and Old Town.  We visited the old Jewish quarter where still stands the Old Synagogue, built in  the 15th century, that now serves as a museum.  Around the square, there were other old Jewish businesses and houses as well as the Remuh Synagogue and Cemetery.  I understand this area was used in the filming of Schindler's List --being just across the Vistula  River from the Podgorze district where the ghetto was established and Oskar Schindler had his factory.



I had  chosen to stay at the Qubus Hotel, in the Podgorze district, not only because of  the good price for a river view room, but also so I could do an early morning walk through the area.  After visiting Auschwitz, it was comforting to be reminded of people like Oskar Schindler and Tadeuszwicz Pankie, who ran the Pharmacy under the Eagle and smuggled news and medicines to the nearby ghetto.

Down the street from my hotel was the touching memorial,  Plac Zgody -- a plaza of empty bronze chairs to remind one of the ghetto victims.  The Qubus Hotel had a modern jazzy flair (popular in today's Poland) and scrumptious food.  It was on the pick-up route for tours and only  a 15 minute direct walk across the pedestrian-friendly bridge to the the Old Town (and a safe, inexpensive taxi ride back at night), so it worked well for me.  I also tried the cheap trolley into the town, but, with my poor Polish,  I missed my stop  and had to backtrack.

I ascended Wawel Hill to the castle where Polish kings ruled for 500 years and the cathedral where they were crowned and often buried.  The cathedral contains numerous ornate royal tombs as well as the relics of  St. Stanislaw (Polish bishop murdered by the king in 1079).   In the early 16th century, Sigismund (Zygmunt) I, the Old, (he had to have been young sometime) brought architects from Italy to make the old gothic castle into the latest-styled  Renaissance palace which is what we see today.  Despite fires, neglect, and invasions, we still catch a glimpse of its magnificence through the frescoes in the courtyard and the interior wooden carvings, especially the ceiling of the Hall of Deputies with its 30 individually carved and painted faces staring down at you.

My favorite pieces were the magnificent woven tapestries commissioned by King Sigismund II Augustus (1520-1572).  It is a story all its own of how they have reassembled 136 of these tapestries--ranging in size from massive wall coverings to smaller bench and windowsill covers.  I found the 19 massive Biblical tapestries unusual in both content (the stories of Adam and Eve, Noah, and the Tower of Babel) and detail/expressiveness.  Contrary to a popular Irish pub song about why we have no unicorns, the tapestries show not only unicorns entering Noah's ark, but fiery flying dragons.  Other tapestries showed unusual animals from Africa, the dodo bird, and the little-known llama and turkey from the New World.  They were among the most interesting and beautiful tapestries I have seen.

Speaking of dragons, I caught just a glimpse of the metal, fire-breathing monument to Smok at the base of the hill, just in front of the Dragon's Den cave under Wawel Castle.  According to this legend, a nasty dragon that liked to consume beautiful young maidens lived in the cave during King Krak's reign.  To save the people of Krakow and preserve his daughter, Wanda, he offered her hand to the one who could slay the dragon.  Many died trying, but finally a young cobbler came up with a scheme to trick the dragon into eating a sheepskin filled with sulphur which made him so thirsty he drank the whole river and burst. Wanda and the cobbler lived happily ever after, so they say.  I didn't take time to go through the damp cave to the Vistula River.

Leaving Wawel Hill, I wandered through winding streets with houses from the 13th-15th centuries with Latin inscriptions above windows and popular tromp-d'oeil designs (painted to look like 3 dimensional stone).

I loved the old brick courtyard and late-gothic cloisters of the Jagiellonian University (founded in the 14th Century) where not only Copernius, but, more recently, Karol Josef Wojtyla (who became Pope John Paul II) were educated.  There are many tributes to Pope John Paul II in Krakow, as he had served as the Archbishop of Krakow from 1964-1978 before he was elected the first Polish pope.   A stroll the other direction from Market Square on Florianska Street along the Royal Route led past interesting characters and places to the reconstructed Florian Gate and the  Planty--park greens surrounding the Old Town where the defensive walls once stood.

An unexpected pleasure was finding myself in Krakow during its Pierogi Festival.  The Maly Rynik Square just off of Market Square was filled with booths preparing and selling their versions of this yummy classic Polish dumpling, filled with meat, cheese, vegetables, jam, fruits or whatever.  I chose to sample a variety (all good) while enjoying the polka music and entertainment on stage.  I will remember Krakow as a city of music.  I passed classical musicians playing in the streets, enjoyed the lively tunes at the festival and from accordion groups around town, and then chose to spend my last evening with a Chopin piano concert.

Although Chopin is usually associated with Warsaw, it was the year of his 200th birthday, and all of Poland was celebrating.  In an intimate upstairs salon of the  Wierzynek Restaurant,  I spent some of the final hours of  my month-long journey through Eastern Europe filled by the intense, rich music of Chopin.  But now I am back to where my blog of this journey began.  (see sidebar  PL Krakow: Searching for a Shake)
Next post will be  Peru:  Crossing the Andes

Click below for slideshow:
Krakow

Music:  Polish Radio Polka Band, Jam Polka, More Polish Polkas
More information:  http://www.krakow-info.com/

Auschwitz- Birkenau (Poland) and Adele's Butterflies

August 2010
It has been a year now since I visited the Auschwitz Concentration Camp and the Auschwitz II- Birkenau Death Camp Memorial and Museum.  I have written and re-written this post many times in my mind, but I still find it difficult to describe the impact of the experience.  When I decided to make Poland part of my Eastern European travels, I knew that I would go to Auschwitz.

When visiting the Holocaust Museum in Washington, D.C., you receive a card with the name and information about someone victimized in the Holocaust, and at the end of the tour, you  can find out the person's fate.  Going to Auschwitz, I chose to carry the story of Adele in my heart.





I realized I had been preparing to come to Auschwitz and Birkenau throughout my recent journey from Vienna to Budapest to Bucharest to Kyiv to Krakow (see Eastern Europe on the sidebar).  I had heard and sorrowed at the stories of the Holocaust in so many places (see Holocaust  sidebar).   But my preparation to come had started long before that.  As a teenager, I traveled with a folk dance group to Israel, performed at kibbutzim, and met survivors of concentration camps, some of whom even showed us their tattooed numbers.

I have also been in other museums that had empty suitcases, piles of shoes, tangles of eye glasses, hair ready to be sent off to make textiles, and chilling empty canisters of Zyklon-B cyanide from the Holocaust--only the piles of those things were greater here.  They humanize what would otherwise be unfathomable to comprehend. What happened at these camps and during the Holocaust is well documented.  I will not repeat it, but rather share my personal perspective.

 The site of Auschwitz was strangely peaceful.  There was green grass growing, and the buildings were in good repair.  There were no reenactments or models--only the photos and possessions of some  who lived and died there.  Yet, I could not walk through the Arbeit Macht Frei gates (Work Makes One Free) without a heaviness in my heart.  I felt something deeper than sadness (not depression) as I walked through the buildings and grounds--a solemnity of standing on ground made sacred by the needless sacrifice of lives.  The faces of the photos haunted me--innocent children condemned simply because they had been born to Jewish parents; old faces who had seen more sorrow than can be borne; strong faces who had become only numbers in the work camps.


I looked in the interrogation and empty torture chambers of Block 11;  I saw the wall where many were executed; I went  inside the first gas chamber to be used as part of the "final solution."  We then were taken to Auschwitz II-Birkenau, where the railway tracks ended journeys from all over Europe.  While the original Auschwitz  remained primarily a labor camp, it was at Auschwitz II-Birkenau that the trainloads of Jews, gypsies, disabled, and other "undesirables" were sorted--the children, elderly, pregnant, and infirm being sent directly to their death in the gas chamber "showers," while those considered fit to work were bunked in drafty wooden sheds.  The Nazis did not even bother to record the names of those who had only moments left to live.  Many workers did not live very long under the camp conditions.

 At Birkenau,  there seemed to be endless broken chimneys from the ruined gas chambers.  I felt profound sorrow for the victims, but also sadness that  "civilized" people could become so hardened, so past feeling, that they would do such things to others.  I was glad I had come.  I left with a better perspective on the minor bumps  I face in my comfortable life.

I had heard Adele's story many years ago when I was 16.  Many of the details I did not ask for or do not remember, but I have never forgotten what happened.  My father worked at that time with a scientist named Joe, and on occasion our family had invited him and his family to dinner.  His wife, Adele, was quiet and shy, but eventually returned the invitation for us to come to their home.  As I entered, I noticed that she had many pictures of and items with butterflies, and after dinner, I asked her why.  I had known that they were Jewish and from Poland.  Adele told us that she had lived in a Polish village with her family.  Just prior to the invasion of Poland by the Nazis, a regiment of Polish calvary were assigned to their town, and she quickly fell in love with a dashing young Jewish officer named Joseph.  They married, but, within weeks, the Nazis invaded, and his regiment left.  She heard nothing more of him after the speedy Nazi conquest.

I did not ask/do not remember how long it was before the Jews in Adele's village were taken by the Nazis nor the sequence of what happened.  Were they crowded into a ghetto area or sent to a holding camp?  The very name "concentration" camp seems wrong--it was so much worse than just crowding them together.   I believe that Adele and her family ended up at Auschwitz, but, I guess it doesn't matter which camp, because what happened to her was repeated in the other labor and death camps.

The rest of Adele's family was killed--cremated.  Adele was young and strong and was assigned to the labor camp.  She did not share with my family what she had endured, but rather what had given her hope.  She said that some prisoners wished they could be  birds and fly out of the camp, but she had seen soldiers shoot birds for sport.  Rather, Adele loved to watch the little butterflies that would flutter between the rows of barbed wire--never caught and never noticed, always free.  To her, these butterflies became her hope and symbol for freedom.

Adele survived the camp and was freed by the allies.  But how do you put your life back together when everything and everyone is gone?  She had checked in relocation offices for information about the husband she had only known briefly, but found nothing.  Then, one day when she was crossing a bridge in a nearby city, she saw Joseph, and they recognized each other among all the worn faces.  I don't know how long they had searched, or what city it was, or how they recognized each other.  But it wasn't a pretend Hollywood ending:  I was sitting in their house with their children, surrounded with images of butterflies.

I wanted to see a butterfly at Auschwitz, but there were no brilliant Monarchs to be found--only those small, non-descript white ones flying through the wires.  But perhaps those were the very kind Adele had envied.    When I returned home, Lenox was having a sale on its Butterfly Meadow china pattern.  I bought a serving bowl covered with butterflies.  I intend to keep it filled with my hopes for a better world and freedom for all.

Click below for the slideshow:
Auschwitz-Birkenau

Music: Itzhak Perlman, Doyna & Skotshna, In the Fiddler's House