South America and South Africa

Cotopaxi (5,897 m/19,347 ft) is the second highest mountain in Ecuador and an active volcano 17 miles south of Quito. When I was talking to my friend Nicole in Cologne that I am thinking about climbing it she gave me the contact details of her friend Aru Veloz, whose father and brother are mountain guides in Riobamba, close to Chimborazo (6,270 m) the highest mountain in Ecuador. When I decided to do the climb with the Veloz family I wasn’t aware that Enrique Velos (Aru’s and Ivo’s father) is “Mister Chimborazo”, who climbed that mountain more than 550 times until today.

When the taxi spat me out at their address I expected a shop with mountaineering equipment etc. but there was only a big wooden door with a sign “Veloz Coronado – Mountain Guides”. After I rang the bell an elderly woman with hair rollers in her hair opened the door. After I tried to explain in English what I want and that I was already in contact with Ivo I was invited into the room next to the door. She called Ivo on the phone and we agreed a plan how to approach the climb to Cotopaxi incl. an acclimatization climb on Chimborazo at 5,000 m which I would do on my own. Meanwhile a white poodle with pink ribbon loops around (I guess) her ears and another mountain guide came and eventually also Enrique Veloz, who was really helpful when the details (transport, overnight stay in the Refugio Whymper, food, etc.) of my acclimization climb were discussed, all in Spanish. Ryan, Kevin and Nic from Colorado, also customers of Veloz Coronado who wanted to climb Chimborazo later that night, showed up and helped with the translation. Don Enrique promised to order the taxi to bring me there and pick me up the next day so that I could buy food, pack my stuff, change clothes, have lunch etc. He was even waiting in the taxi when I boarded it ensuring that I know that everything is in good order.

On the 30 miles ride to Chimborazo (now without Don Enrique) we were passing beautiful landscapes, farmland in the hilly terrain, and the closer we came to the mountain more and more desert. Vicunyas, the wild ancestors of the alpakas,were watching us curiously when we approached our destination. I deboarded the cab at the Barrel Refugio and started my 200 m climb to the Whymper Refugio. After I set up my night’s lodging I made a short acclimatization hike of maybe 150 m until the weather finally deteriorated. Meanwhile the three guys from Colorado arrived in the refugio and we played card games and I was also invited for dinner. Everyone went to bed early, them to prepare for their tour which would start at 23:00 in the night, I because it was freezing cold. The whole night I couldn’t sleep due to the wind, the altitude and the headache, which is a common sympton when one is not fully acclimatized. Since Ryan, Kevin and Nic couldn’t get to the peak that night as the wind was causing a rockslide shortly before they were approaching that part of the climb we met again the next morning. The taxi showed up in time and later that day I agreed with Enrique the next steps.

Update:

In the end I was not able to climb Cotopaxi because, at least I guess so, I was not acclimatized enough. My guide Santiago was very encouraging and motivating but I simply was not able to do it. He is the very last to blame. Most of the other climbers could not make it either as there was a crevasse which most of them did not climb in the night. (Since the snow gets too soft during daytime increasing the risk of avalanches substancially the climb starts around 11 p.m. and the cut off time to reach the summit is 8 a.m.). When I went back to the parking lot I learned from another climber, who climbed Kilimanjaro in Tanzania (5,896 m) before, that the barometric pressure on 5,000 m on Cotopaxi was 540 hpa, i.e. as low as on the summit of Kilimanjaro when he climbed it.

Last Saturday and Sunday I was in Otavalo, a town with about 70,000 inhabitants approximately two bus hours north of Quito, to see the famous market, which is by far the largest in Ecuador on weekends. I was joined by Osnat, an israeli girl from Tel Aviv, who was staying in the same hostel in Quito.

What made the market special for me was that many of the Otavalenos wore their traditional clothing – the women’s costumes consist of embroidered blouses, shoulder wraps and many coloured beads, the men wear their hair long under their hats, calf length pants, boots and ponchos. And to my great surprise it wasn’t packed with other tourists, of course some were there, and it seemed that this is truely a market for the indigenous people of that region. The market comprises four different markets in various parts of the town with streets filled with vendors. We arrived too late to see the livestock market but the artesian market, the most interesting part for the tourists, the food market, literally no foreigners to see, and the product market were still vibrant when we came around noon. (See also photos.)

The next day Osnat and I made a hike to the mountain Fuya-Fuya in the proximity of Otavalo. Our hike started at the Laguna de Mojanda on 3,715 m and we went up to the peak on 4,375 m. Given that we are still not fully acclimatized it was a good preparation for our climb to the Cotopaxi (5,897 m) we both intend to do later this month. As always when you climb/hike in higher altitude it was absolutely key to go slowly to control the breath and the heartbeat. The area around Otavalo is very nice for outdoor activities like hiking, mountain biking etc. as there are numerous volcanos. It is easy to stay some more days without getting bored but as we both had different plans we left Sunday afternoon to get back to Quito. Osnat went to her five day tour to climb Cotopaxi and I went to Riobamba, also to do the hike to Cotopaxi but on a different itinerary. (See also photos.)

While we were staying in the very nice Hostal Dona Esther we ate this excellent quinoa salad (quinoa is a grain typical for the Andes, very healthy, difficult to cultivate, and also available in Europe and the US). If you like you can try it out:

Boil the quinoa as required and then wait until it is luke-warm. Mixed it with (home-made) basil pesto, a little bit of thinly sliced red onions and very small pieces of tomato (more for the eye, less for the taste), a squeeze of lime juice and basil for the decoration. Then add tuna (the watery from the tin not the oily) but don’t mix it with the quinoa-pesto salad. Yummy!

The last two days I stayed in the jungle close to La Ceiba. On Utila I bumped into Silvia, a German woman, who operates together with her husband a lodge on the Hondurian mainland for whitewater-rafting, horseriding, jungle hikes, mountain-biking, etc. Two days later I was on the ferry to La Ceiba.

The “Eco-Jungle-Lodge” is built in the jungle, has a lovely tropical garden (see photo page), a guesthouse with four rooms, three more upscale rooms with private baths, a little swimming-pool sourced with water from the creek, a decent restaurant and a nice little bar. While I was there I saw hummingbirds (Kolibris) and heard in the night all sounds of the jungle – quite special. Every now and then it happens that a tarantula falls down from the palmleave covered building on the table but thanks God not while I was there.

The first day I was the only guest and for most of the activities there is a minimum requirement of two pax. I did the jungle hike to a waterfall guided by Alejandro, a 69 years old Hondurian. Later that  day other guests arrived so that the next day there would be whitewater-rafting.

In total there were nine of us, three rafts and three guides. We picked up our life vests and helmets,wetsuits were not needed as the water was warm , and  went to Rio Cangrejal, which is quite special as it has massive boulders in its riverbed, some of those as big as multistory-houses. The first two hours we were whitewater-swimming upriver, some kind of canyoning but without a canyon. We were swimming in the current, climbing the boulders and jumping from the boulders back into the water, really great fun. Thereafter we entered the rafts and went downriver. Albeit it is summer in Honduras and hence not too much water it was far better then anything comparable I have done in Europe. I bet they would have never ever sent us through some of the rapids in Germany or Austria, particularly as two of the partipants from Guatemala couldn’t swim. Everybody survived and we all had lots of fun.

www.omegatours.info

Utila is a small island (approx. 8 miles long, approx.  2.5 miles wide) in the Caribbean Sea about 18 miles off the Hondurian mainland. It is best known for its very affordable dive operations in a tropical setting. This is actually why I found the destination in the www as I wanted to integrate some scuba diving in my trip without paying a fortune. As the prices are comparatively low there are about 90 % backpackers and 10 % “normal” tourists, mainly Americans.The majority of both groups is involved in some kind of scuba-diving activity. Utila has about 2,500 inhabitants and 17 (!) dive shops, i.e. operations offering scuba diving courses or trips. It praises itself for not accomodating any hotel chains and I consider the size of the hotels and guesthouses as still small. The main road on which at least 95 % of the hotels and eateries are located is about two miles long. The bigger part of the island is not accessible and I am guessing that the paved roads on which motorbikes, golf-carts, apes (motorized tricycles) and bicycles are riding are totaling six miles. (I am 100 % sure that this will remain the one-off instance of my life that I had a car pick-up service on the apron of an airfield after a commercial flight (not quite a limousine though).)

According to my mind it often happens that tropical islands are first discovered and conquered by backpackers (“Backpacker Stage 1”) and then by “normal” tourists accompanied by the big international hotel and fastfood chains (“Marriott Stage 2”). Then at the latest the characteristics of these places are altered and they are look alikes of the other places suffering the same destiny. (Several times I was asked whether I have been to Central America which I erroneously always denied. This is actually not true as I was in Playa del Carmen in Yucatan/Mexico in 2007 but obviously I consider this rather as a Northern American vacation than a Central American. And without ever been to the Ballearic Islands or for instance Gran Canaria, both islands belonging to Spain, I reckon it is not very different there.) The infrastructure will be (re-)created or  substantially improved, the overall revenues generated on the islands will rocket whilst the income of the islanders might slightly increase and their culture will be changed forever.

The idea of getting wealthy without working too hard and having too much at stake is to buy prime location property in “Backpacker Stage 1” when the prices are still low and sell in “Marriott Stage 2” to the developers, when the big investments are under way. As Utila seems so be still in the first half of that cycle it might be worthwhile to put some money on the table, still limited risk, and see how the investment develops in ten years or so. One might feel slightly uncomfortable and unsure whether this is really the side someone wants to be on but, hey, “if I don’t do it, someone else will do it” and pecunia non olet.

Why is Utila not the Next Big Thing?

The island is well known for its migration grounds for whale sharks and the first dive centre was set up 20 years ago in 1991. There was ample of time to develop it from an insiders tipp to a major dive destination which it is not despite all the tourists who are all here only because of diving.

My dive buddy Ralph, a gentleman from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, who has seen the world on numerous business trips and now on plenty dive trips is still looking for a place where he can buy a house and do scuba-diving whenever he likes. We both agreed (he could form his opinion based on the experience gained in more than 1,000 dives, I only based on my prejudices, but this is a different story) that this won’t be Utila, as the diving was not so great, notwithstanding the beautiful reef and the variety of corals. The simple reason is that the marine life was not so lively and colourful as expected as there were hardly any (big) fishes (only in the marine park on the northern side, which is protected and therefore fishing is not permitted).

Today in the afternoon when I was at the beach a guy came out of the water holding a syringe and showing his disgust when throwing it into a garbage bin. Obviously he just found it and hadn’t used it to shoot some drugs.

You might find that the photos I shot (see under the tab “photos”) look actually quite nice and I agree because otherwise I wouldn’t have published them. However, if I had pointed the lense of the camera (sometimes only slightly) in a different direction without even changing my position or if I hadn’t zoomed in you would have seen for instance the morass filled with junk, the shelter in decay, the gutter filled with a disgusting liquid and garbage, the cobweb alike electric installation, the backside of the beach covered with scrab metal on any of those photos.

Does it matter?

Maybe not, because it is authentic. An islands in the Carribean Sea is not a manicured golf course. It is imperfect and it is supposed to be. The reason for traveling lies in the differences and not in the similarities. If you ask me rather an Utila than a Playa del Carmen.

As Ralph said: THERE IS MORE IN LIFE THAN MAKING LIFE FAST

Today I did something I read about 20ish years ago when it was rumored that loony Michael Jackson bought a saltwater tank in which he lies completely sheltered from sounds and light. (I know, it is silly to waste precious brain capacity with saving such useless no-no-information.)  It sounded to me and I guess it was intended that finding your refuge in such a tank is a coffin-like-experience and people doing that are not very, ahhm, trustworthy.

Just a few words to the concept: a water tank about twice the size of a person is floated with water about one foot deep. An enormous amount of salt is diluted so that the solution has a salt-concentration similar to the Dead Sea and is fully saturated. Any additonal salt wouldn’t be absorbed by the water but would sink to the bottom of that tank. Bacteria and viruses are killed by the salt and also an UV treatment so that the level of disgust is kept accetably low. However, the result is that the person in the tank is completely buoyant and doesn’t feel any force of gravity. And since there are also no sounds and, if someone wishes so, no light it feels like floating in the big nothingness.

I had to take a shower, wash my hair (something I just did 30 minutes earlier but as the facilities were well maintained and very clean I complied with the procedure) and then had to go into the water just wearing my birthday suit. (Even swim-gear would provide too much buoyancy so that  the free-float experience would be disturbed.) The body-warm water actually felt somewhat slippery, almost slimy, like over-concentrated dishsoap. Well, I managed to lay down without doing the slapstick thing I used to do and then did what I can do best, namely nothing. I relaxed my muscles, floated, controled my breathing and tried to control my impatience. After about 5/6 of the time in my legs and lower back tensions loosened I didn’t even know that they existed (the tensions not the legs and back). Music set in when the hour had passed and it was time to re-enter the world. I am sure I had a big smile on my face when I was floating to pay the 30 bucks for the 60 minutes, at least it felt so. (http://www.floatutila.com)

There are similar tanks in London, Manhattan and many other cities and it is highly recommended to try it out if you have the opportunity as long as the price is still reasonable (USD 30 was actually a special price, normally they ask for USD 55).

http://www.spiegel.de/wissenschaft/mensch/0,1518,447811,00.html

As always, it was great  being back in the “Capital of the World”. And as on my previous visits after I left the town and despite visiting this time four of the five borroughs I haven’t done many touristy things.  I have been to Central Park a couple of times, to Midtown, to Brooklyn Heights, stayed in Queens and was briefly in the Bronx. Anyhow, compared with the “normal” visitor (what is normal?) I haven’t seen that much. For me staying in New York is about meeting my friends, maintaining the relationships and, maybe every now and then and slowly, making new friends.

There were some evenings which I might never forget: the night in Jimmy’s Corner with Marco drinking Beck’s and talking about life (one of these conversations I only make when I had more than one beer and feel really comfortable), the dinner invitation together with Amy and Patty at Giancarlo’s and Cassandra’s and there the introduction into the music of Van der Graaf Generator and the stories about the New Yorker punk and new wave music scene end of the 70’s, beginning of the 80’s, reconnecting with Yaryna in my old neighbourhood Upper West Side (strangely somewhat still feels like home), visiting my friends beautiful new home in Long Island (albeit still work in progress), catching up with my former, former, former boss Mike and eventually meeting his family, feeling very much welcome in the Sequeira family with two birthdays in one week, having a reunion with the staff of the old NY KRM office (Desiree, Ralf, Marco, we had tons of fun – I just say “Eurotrance”), meeting my friends Andrea, Barb, Ely, Katrina, Leah, and, and, and. I hope that I didn’t forget anyone!

It is also about the atmosphere and the friendliness (you wouldn’t think that about New Yorkers but it’s true) in the city when comparing it to London. Staying in Queens now for the third time I was on my way home occasionally the only non-asian, non-latino, non-afro-american, non-alien (did I forget anything) in a subway carriage full of people. When trying out my very, very basic, barely existing Spanish language skills the waitress in the colombian restaurant was polite and patient enough to put a good face on the matter. (In the next months it will all be about “can I practise my Spanish” instead of “can I practise my English”, hah.) Big cars, big houses, I reckon big business. And also small business. On two occasions and for the first time I noticed protesters demanding jobs, I guess another indicator for the downturn of the economy.

What feels a little odd is that life moves on but without me. I expect, no, not really expect, maybe wish that everything remains as it was when I left the city end of 2008. And this is, of course, wishful thinking. Friends are leaving the city or lose sight of each other, interests are changing, and new relationships develop. As everywhere else in life and maybe particularly here this has to be accepted, one has to adapt or otherwise would be spit out.

(BTW: I shot the photo above from my office window when I was working there)

What to say – it was wet. When “carbo loading” was redefined with three pints beer together with my friend Yaryna the evening before. When getting up at 3:00 in the morning having a cab ride through the rain to the Upper West Side. When swimming 1.5 km in the swells of the Hudson having some good gulps of the river water. (Salty for those who are interested. BTW, a sewage facility five miles upriver burned down two weeks ago. Did I mention that perfect information is not always crucial?) When having the bike ride on the West Side Highway into the Bronx and back alternating heavy rain showers and steady rain. When running 10 km through Central Park sweat, sweat, sweat as the sun eventually came out. When celebrating crossing the finish line drinking even more water (an early sympton of overhydration is brain malfunction, many thanks for asking).

What shall I say – it was fun. With this minimum of training I invested I didn’t lose my dignity when finishing. (I actually expected the contrary and deferring this year’s start was a thought I moved around in my head more than once.) Katrina, another friend of mine, lent me her bicycle – many thanks, Katrina, awesome bike! The time is 17 minutes slower than last year, the preliminary ranking is five ranks better (86 vs. 91 in my age group in 2010 but with less competitors) and the overall result (e.g. total participants, total women) is in the 2010 range.

.

What more to say – it was dramatic. My friend Amy swam into a floating body not moving at all with its green face under the water (triathlon wetsuits provide plenty of buoyancy). She pushed the body to one of the kayaks close by supposed to protect the swimmers in case of an emergency. As we learned later this man and another woman died because of heart attacks. After the finish at the family reunion a mother almost went nuts when she ran up and down shouting for her three year old toddler and couldn’t find him. At least this story had a happy ending as also this family was reunited.

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/08/08/sports/man-dies-during-new-york-city-triathlon.html?_r=1&src=ISMR_HP_LI_LST_FB

Friday was my last working day for the next five months. It felt somewhat awkward and strangely I remembered the time when I started working a lifetime ago. Life clocked in in morning meetings, lunch breaks, and overtime hours, working weeks and weekends, financial years and annual leaves. And now, five months off. Did I say that I enjoy being lazy? A co-worker mentioned that it might be difficult to get accustomed to work upon my return but my initial thought was that this will happen quicker than I would ever hope for.

My to-do-list is shrinking and the remaining items are things which are not really under my control. Eventually I could live with those if they cannot be sorted. The move from L to BS went well, however, some cardboard boxes are still crouching in the corners of the basement and the attic and picture frames are still waiting to find their new home on the walls.

The flights are paid, the scuba diving package in Honduras is booked (yes, it appeared to me that this was done in kind of a haste whilst I still want to switch into a different, slower mode), the road traffic department made a mistake when I applied for an international drivers-license and they re-issued also my domestic one (I am now a proud owner of a 12-plus tons truck drivers-license), the backpacks will be packed either tomorrow or Tuesday (some things never change).

Today I booked my flights. Due to hesitating a couple of days we had to move the departure date by one day. It’s now August 3, 2011, still in time for the tri-expo on Friday, August 5. Maybe it’s also beneficial for the NYC tri on Sunday when I’m still on European time, i.e. six hours ahead so that it doesn’t feel like 2 o’clock in the morning when I have to get up at 4 sharp (I’m certainly not an early bird).

Andi from the travel agency is a star, it’s always great talking to him. When he chats about places in Namibia, the natives who live there, the landscape I really want to go there immediately. Since I couldn’t remember everything he said we agreed that the next time I visit him I bring my travel books to get some more advice about my route, which is still work in progress (“advice” in the best possible way). This guy loves traveling and speaks very wisely about the culture, the nature, everything.

While I was there we were also briefly discussing the outlook for travel agencies and whether the internet will eat up their markets. I told him that this is the first time that I use the service of an agency, mainly as I couldn’t figure out how to compare prices between Round-The-World-tickets and the prices of individually booked tickets (for those who are interested: it would have been more costly with the rtw-ticket-option and also would have included one v-e-r-y l-o-n-g f-l-i-g-h-t). I also told him that the service he provides is superior, really provides added-value for my needs and that I absolutely enjoy talking to him about all these great places. I reckon this is how travel agencies can succeed despite the low-cost competition. Might be a niche-market though and only the fittest survive.

What else? I added some items to the to-do-list, I removed some items from the to-do-list but as a matter of fact it is still growing.

This is the beginning of a wonderful friendship, me and my blog for my five-months trip to South America and South Africa. Since this is the first time I create a blog there might be some hickups at the beginning but I hope within a couple of weeks it will be more interesting, more colorful and with more features.

As I am german but many of my friends live abroad I write this blog in English. Every now and then it will be written not only in English but Funny English and I hope that none of the English speakers amongst you, my dear readers, feels offended.

I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoy writing.

See you soon