In early February 2015, I began to receive strong intuitive guidance that it will soon be time for me to leave Calca and to begin writing again — with strong feelings that the writing will soon be in the form of the book that is passionately wanting to be born from within me.
But guidance also said that I needed to make one more border run to Bolivia, and stay just a little longer. This photo post contains 131 photos beginning with that trip for new visa stamps on my passport and ending with the passing of an old friend.
As usual, the photos in this post are thumbnail images. Please click on any photo to enlarge it. The thumbnails leave much to be desired as far as colors and resolution – plus the thumbnails clip all of the edges. I use thumbnails for the post itself, because it gives people an opportunity to get a summary glimpse without downloading huge amounts of data for the high-res photos.
CLICK ON ANY PHOTO TO ENLARGE TO HIGH RESOLUTION
Bolivia Or Bust
I got up early in the morning on February 17, 2015, walked through the darkness down into town, and caught a 6:00 a.m. minivan from Calca to Cusco, after which I caught a taxi to the bus station where I quickly purchased a bus ticket. At shortly after 8:30 a.m I boarded my luxury bus (Transzella) to Puno for the seven-hour journey in plush leather recliner seats ($14 US). After a short sleep at a hostel in Puno, Peru I took another early morning bus from Puno to Copacabana, Bolivia, effortlessly crossing the Bolivian border.
This is the bus I was riding on for the journey across the border from Puno to Copacabana.
This is taken at the Peru/Bolivia border.
I was one of the first from my bus to make it through customs on both sides of the border, and sat here for more than an hour waiting for the rest of the passengers to finish.
This is a photo taken from the same spot as the previous one, looking out over Lake Titicaca.
I arrived in Copacabana at shortly before noon, fully expecting to simply spend the night in town and to catch another bus right back to Puno in the morning.
But as I walked down the cobblestone street in Copacabana, an intuitive flash of inspiration raced through my heart.
“I have never spent the night on the Island of the Sun”, I thought to myself. “Why don’t I check out the possibilities?”
After a quick visit to a tourist agency, I suddenly found myself reserving a small hostel room and purchasing a one-way ticket for the Island of the Sun. I would be on a boat that left at around 1:00 p.m., giving me just enough time for a very quick lunch.
I love flashes of inspiration …
The above photo is at my hostel on the Island of the Sun. I spent a total of about $18 US for the boat ride and for one night at the hostel.
This is the view from my bedroom window in the hostel. Those are the Cordillero mountains beyond the Island of the Moon way off in the distance.
My hostel from a different perspective. My room is upstairs, just beyond that circular balcony. The low building on the left is a tiny restaurant run by the woman who operates the hostel.
A view of the hostel from down below. there are about five or six rooms upstairs.
The name of the hostel was “INKA Pacha”. It sits very high up on the Island of the Sun, in the southern-end village of Yumani.
Inside my room, a bed by the window.
There were actually three beds in the room. I slept on the near one, choosing it because it was softer.
Looking through the bedroom window.
One reason I did not intend to even go to the Island of the Sun on this trip is that we are right in the middle of rainy season, and I expected it to be cloudy, rainy, and cold. Instead, it is absolutely gorgeous weather.
Zooming in on the Island of the Moon as seen from my room.
Looking down toward some homes below.
Just visually exploring some roof tops.
A view of a church below.
I loved my vantage point right from my room.
After settling in, I took a hike and spent the afternoon meditating on the side of the hill that has a lookout point on top. I spent a few hours by the shady side of this water tank, enjoying the view across this part of the lake.
The Cordilleros are beautiful today.
The sun will set soon in the west.
The little girl in the pink hat is named Monica. While I was sitting near the water tank, she came over with some balloons and began talking to me. She was so friendly that I giggled inside. She kept blowing up more and more balloons as she talked to me, and soon had tied five of them together into a makeshift doll shape with one balloon being the head, two being the arms, and two being the legs.
Then she gave me the doll and told me that she made it for me.
“My mother and father are home drinking,” She told me matter-of-factly.
“I’m sorry,” I responded. “That is not very fun, is it?”
She soon changed the subject and told me she had some necklaces for sale. I fell in love with her and ended up buying two whistle necklaces. I could have gotten them cheaper elsewhere, and really didn’t want them, but she won my heart.
Soon she excused herself and said goodbye. Later, right before sundown, I saw her and her sister untying the mules that were grazing around the area. I can only assume that the mules belong to the family, and that it is the young girls’ job to bring them home at night.
Standing in the same spot, but facing to the south, back toward the top of the village of Yumani. Copacabana is in the far distance.
The sun is setting behind this cloud, but still has a while before it disappears.
The sunset cast a special glow on the Cordilleros. I just checked Wikipedia to try to find details on this range. It says that the peaks in Bolivia range between 18,000 and 21,000 feet in altitude. I’m guessing that these are some of the 21,000 foot peaks.
The sun continuing to get lower (behind the cloud).
Starting to peek out below the cloud.
The clouds have a lot of character.
Almost there. As I took these photos, I noticed the red and green orbs in the photo and kept taking more photos to see if they moved or changed.
They continually shifted around, with slightly different positions on the viewfinder and moving with relation to each other.
Another purple one appears in the middle here.
Having a lot of fun just watching the orbs as I take the photos. I kept cleaning my lens with a cleaning cloth, just trying to make sure that this was not just dust particles reflecting in the sun.
The orbs keep slightly changing. It could just be a combination of optics, zoom, and position of the sun in the lens … but I am having fun anyway.
Soon, I look to the south and love the colorful reflections on those clouds. The thumbnail images do not do justice to the scenery.
Facing back toward the sun.
I love the contrast of the clouds.
Then I noticed that the colors were reflecting on the clouds to the east, above the Cordilleros.
By now, I was already walking back to my hostel, but kept stopping to take more photos because it was so beautiful and mesmerizing.
Looking more to the south.
This is the last photo that I took before returning to my hostel.
Early the next morning, on February 19, 2015, at just before 6:00 a.m., I looked out my window and giggled as I realized that I was watching a sunrise. I watched the sun go down on one side of the island last night, and here it is rising on the other side this morning.
It wasn’t until later that I noticed those conical rings in the left side of the photo. The thumbnail image is weak. If you click to enlarge the photo, there is a spiral of at least five circles going around that tree on the left … interesting.
These are the two necklaces that I bought from Monica yesterday afternoon.
I had a decision to make that morning. I really wanted to get started back to Puno, but I had made a heartfelt commitment to myself last night that if today was another beautiful day that I would stay another day.
It was gorgeous this morning, and I decided to compromise. I will stay the day, and then take a boat back to Copacabana at 3:00 p.m. this afternoon.
I decided to take a hike. I began walking north on the trail that leads to the north end. As I passed through a check point, I noticed on the map they gave me that a side trail headed off down to the village of Challa. I had never been there, so I decided to take the trail.
This is the map they gave me. I was walking from Yumani (left end) and just exploring. I decided to take that little blue trail that splits off to the right — the one that goes back down toward the shoreline. I had already walked from the far north end to Yumani on that middle trail in June.
I passed this little stream and can only imagine that it must be fed by a spring higher up on the hillside.
The lower part of the village of Challa.
A woman herding a bunch of sheep just up the trail.
A pig by the side of the trail.
Some sheep just below the trail.
Zooming in on the sheep.
Other sheep in a little rock pen.
Another view of the little enclosure where the sheep are kept.
An interesting building along the trail.
A little walled-off collection of five homes. I can only assume than many members of an extended family live here together.
Walking up a little hill toward the main part of the village of Challa (pronounced CHAY-yuh).
Walking up rock steps in the main village.
Looking over at the side of the hill, enjoying the beautiful scenery surrounding the village.
Continuing to walk up the steep steps.
Finally at the crest of the hill, in the middle of Challa. This gorgeous bay runs from Challa (near side) all the way to Challapampa (far side). Jeanette and I spent time on the beach at Challapampa in November.
Zooming in on Challapampa. The beach we visited was on the other side of that little town.
I didn’t know it, but Challa has its own little beach down below.
A better view of the beach. I spent a short time meditating here, but the clock said I needed to keep going. Eventually, I climbed up that mountain in the distance and hiked without a trail all the way back to the top of the island.
Another gorgeous view of the beach below, this time without a zoom.
A local woman staring at a field.
On the beach. It was cold and not very soft sand.
I sat for a while right here. This flock of sheep came toward me and walked right by me on both sides.
It looks like the farmers bring their animals down here for a drink as they move them from one place to another.
It looks really inviting, but the water is cold and the beach is very rocky.
I love this little dock.
I was quite surprised to see a little hostel here.
Eventually, I decided to walk home a different way. I was determined to find a trail back to the top of the mountain (the middle of the island). I am now on top of the hill at the other end of the beach. There are no trails, but I am going to climb anyway.
In this photo I am looking back toward the northern edge of the village of Challa, and the beautiful beach that I just crossed over.
Finally, after a long and difficult zig-zagging climb with no trail, I ended up at the top of the island, joining up with the main north-south trail at around its half-way point. In this photo I am looking south, which is the direction I intend to walk.
Looking back down toward Challa from way up on top. It is close to 13,000 feet above sea level where I now stand.
Beautiful flowers and fields atop the island.
Continuing south. You can see part of the trail on the mountain in the left distance.
Eventually, I reach the village of Yumani at around 2:30 p.m., just in time to pick up my suitcase and catch a 3:00 p.m. boat back to Copacabana.
To my delight, when I arrive in Copacabana just before 5:00 p.m., I walk into one of my favorite tourist agencies and learn that there is a direct-to-Cusco bus leaving at 6:00 p.m., and that I can get space on it. The upstairs seats are rows or four across, so I opt to get a sleeper-seat downstairs in a plush leather recliner (they are larger and only three seats in a row). I wont be able to see anything at night anyway.
After a quick dinner, I am on the bus to Puno at 6:00 p.m., with our first stop being the border.
I breeze right through the Bolivia side and am very curious as to what will happen at the Peru side when I ask for more time in the country.
When it is my turn to talk to the Peruvian border guard, I tell him that if it is at all possible, I would like “tres” (three) more months. He asked what I am doing in Peru. “Writing and studying Spanish” I tell him. “That is a lot of time in Peru” he grills me. I just smile, silently hoping for at least two more months.
“OK,” he tells me with a grin as he stamps my passport. “I am giving you six more months.”
I smile, feeling quite shocked. I wonder if he thought I asked for six (seis) months. I really don’t expect to stay that much longer, but wonder if the universe is telling me something … if perhaps I am not leaving the country as soon as I think I am.
A few hours later, after a one-hour layover in Puno, my bus is underway to Cusco. We arrive in Cusco at around 5:00 a.m., and after some shopping in town, I make it back to Calca in the early afternoon. I am utterly exhausted and ready for a nap.
Changing Seasons
On February 25, 2015, I was out by the river and noted that the river was higher than I had ever seen it before. I decided to take a lot of photos to document the dramatic changes that happen during rainy season.
This is a photo taken from the patio area just outside my kitchen window. This is the field that was planted on January 9, 2015, just about six and a half weeks earlier. It is gorgeous, and is right outside my kitchen.
Another view from just outside of my kitchen.
Looking up at a canyon on Pitusiray, there is now a waterfall coming down that crack. It has been there since some time in December.
Chuck comes outside to greet me and then quickly turns around to leave.
He is more fascinated by sounds on the street.
I am outside, preparing to walk toward the river.
The sun is gorgeous today, but about 80 percent of the days since mid December have been very cold and cloudy.
Nicolas recently dug up and replanted most of the iris bulbs in the flower garden.
Looking back toward the house as seen from the flower garden.
The gate to the river playground is very hard to open now because the wood is so swollen from all the moisture.
This is the river today. It is the absolute highest that I have ever seen. If you remember previous photos from other posts, the dam only had a small waterfall coming over the middle part, and on low water days, there were lots of exposed rocks in the middle of that small waterfall. Now, the water is a few feet higher, and is raging over the entire width of the dam.
Down below, there are no walkways along the pool where I went swimming in December.
A closeup of the right side of the dam. There is even a lot of water pouring through underneath the platform.
A closeup of the far side. If you notice, you can barely see the top part of those words “Obra de plan Meriss Inka”, and the water is very close to the bridge.
Zooming in a little closer to the far wall.
Looking at the water raging underneath the bridge. I would never dare venture out there right now.
And another perspective with plants in the foreground.
Meanwhile, looking up at Pitusiray, the peaks are buried in clouds and you can see glimmers of white up there.
Another photo of the river.
And the grass in the river playground is very tall and lush.
The cornfield across the raging river had been harvested, bulls were used to eat up all the remaining corn stalks, and they recently planted a crop that looks like wheat.
Another glance at the sun.
And another glance at the corn field just above the dam.
I just trimmed my bangs and they are a little short. I am feeling very peaceful.
A slightly different angle.
The clouds have cleared over Pitusiray, and it looks white and wet up there.
And another closeup of the words on the far wall. You can barely see the tops of the words. These words used to be a few feet above water level.
A Very Local Festival
As I arrived home from the market on March 1, 2015, I noticed that they were busy setting up for some type of festival. I saw my neighbor helping out, and asked him when it was going to be.
“Today,” he responded. “You should come and join us.”
This is right outside of my front door. They had dug a deep post hole in the edge of that dirt road and were planting a large tree that was cut from somewhere and brought into town for the festival.
Meanwhile, I noticed a few men replacing the awning above Maria’s little store just down the street from me.
And this tent awning was erected between Maria’s store and that funny tree in the road.
And this covered stage had been erected in front of the mule monument, directly across from my bedroom. That is my neighbor there in his red and black striped shirt. Those are some very big speakers aimed right at my bedroom window.
My neighbor in his striped shirt. He is a very nice man. I think his name is Carmelo.
Meanwhile they are still adjusting the position of this tree. They have filled the top with balloons, plastic colanders, plastic buckets, a plastic stool, some colorful women’s woven fabric, and an old woolen blanket. I am really curious.
The men support the trunk as they try to position the tree.
Soon, they decide to turn the tree so that it faces a different direction, making that wool blanket more visible to me.
Using ropes to twist and turn the trunk.
A view of those menacing speakers.
A man is hooking up the wiring to those speakers, doing so from behind.
A closeup of the top of that tree.
And another of my neighbor.
Still working on Maria’s awning. I imagine she will make lots of money tonight from selling to the festival participants.
Dropping a tarp behind to protect the speakers from threatening rain.
Lots of kids hanging around, watching.
And another family about thirty feet from my front door.
Kids playing on the street.
A woman bringing a shovel filled with hot coals for her cooking fire. She has a barbeque set up, and is preparing to cook and sell food.
A man and his dog walking by.
More local people stirring around.
A typical local woman.
Within a half hour of me taking these photos, I decided to take a nap in preparation for a long night. But withing ten minutes of my head hitting the pillow, the speakers were cranked up and the extremely loud music began. It lasted until the wee hours of the morning.
The place was not very busy during the early afternoon. But by evening, there were several hundred people partying out in front of my house, and a live band was playing very loudly with a very monotone repetitive song. About thirty or forty people were dancing around the trunk of that tree. Among those dancing I saw Maria, the lady who runs the store where I buy eggs and other miscellaneous things.
It looked like a fun evening, but I was busy and could not handle the noisy energy. I watched movies in the kitchen (where it was quietest) for a while, and eventually went to bed with ear plugs, and with my pillow pulled tightly around my ears. I didn’t get much sleep at all, but was proud of myself for maintaining a giggly attitude all night.
Early in the morning, at around 5:30 a.m., I heard men talking and joking loudly outside. I stepped outside for a look, and three men were sitting up on the stage, with sleeping bags still wrapped around themselves. Soon, they cranked up the music again, turning up the volume to the ear-shattering setting.
Later, I went out to run errands, hoping to avoid the noise, but it was still going when I returned. I was quite relieved when they turned off the music and dismantled the speakers just before noon.
Passing Of An Old Friend
It has been expected for a long time. My friend Dell has been sniffling with mysterious viruses for a few years now … but all the therapeutic scans for viruses and malware could neither detect nor correct what was inevitable. He was growing very old and his days in my service were numbered. He first joined my side as I prepared to return to school back in 2005, and has tirelessly served me without fail … never complaining and always doing his best to be there for me.
Just over a year ago, while I was in Iquitos, Dell’s visual skills began to fritz out, but then luckily began to function again. Later, in April 2014, after being hibernated and wrapped in plastic for three months, the jungle humidity overwhelmed my faithful little companion and his vision again began to flake out. But what really made him struggle was the water that I spilled on him during a boat ride. He caught a very bad cold, and barely survived; but he lovingly forgave me without judgment. The little guy’s visual acuity never fully recovered, but he fought valiantly and continued to serve with trust and courage.
Somewhere over the majestic Andes mountains, in May, as we flew from Iquitos to Lima and then to Cusco, my little companion suffered a bout with altitude sickness, and his keyboard began to suffer nerve problems such that the signals for various critical keyboard connections would no longer fire correctly. Then, as old age often does, he began to make funny noises when his USB connections were wiggled. Something was just not quite right with him, but still, he continued to serve with dedication.
But it was not until November, 2014, while Jeanette and I were at Lake Titicaca, that his core systems began to require hospice and intensive care. One morning, at our hotel room in Copacabana, Bolivia, Dell went almost completely blind, and was soon hooked up to life support, requiring all kinds of external wires — external monitors and external input devices — just to maintain his ability to communicate. But still, he just kept serving.
Meanwhile, still weak and almost blind, Dell helped to give birth to his adopted son, Lenovo, faithfully donating all of his memory and stored knowledge to his adopted prodigy. Dell did not even care that Lenovo came from a different genetic background. He freely shared everything he had, passing on his wisdom with pure unconditional love.
Dell served me well, even while in intensive hospice care, right up until the very end. As a final act of uncomplaining service, he entertained my dear friend Sufi and I with one final movie on the evening of my sixtieth birthday … just last Tuesday … the magical day in which I completed six amazing decades on this planet.
Early Wednesday morning, March 11, 2015, I went out to the kitchen to check on my trusty companion. Old age was just too much for him. When I gently caressed his power button, all he could do was to emit a high pitched warbling screeching sound.
My faithful friend is no longer able to communicate in any way. As an act of mercy, I have decided to let him rest, no longer requiring him to serve me in any way.
Dell is survived by his magical adopted son, Lenovo … and is also survived by the thousands of pages of blog entries that he diligently helped me to create. He earned a forever-place in my heart, and will never be forgotten.
In his “Last Will and Testament”, Dell asked that his body be donated to a local service technician in Cusco. He hopes that his parts might still somehow serve someone in need.
Viewings for his surviving friends will be scheduled, by appointment, during the next week. Dell will be available for remote viewings as well, for those who know how to astral project (or use Skype).
A photo of Dell, with his external monitor and keyboard on the right side, just after he left his tired shell. If you look closely at the external monitor, you can see that it is no longer able to find any type of conscious signal.
And this is Dell as he would like to be remembered … still looking young and strong, with that Skype headset hanging over the front of his monitor. He was so very good at communicating.
Summary
Yippee … I am finally up to date with all of my photo posts. Sometime in the near future, I hope to write a short series of blogs that highlight the main events in what has been an amazing healing ride over the last eight months … and little Lenovo is proving to be a fast learner.
Copyright © 2015 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved