Hi everyone. I suck.

I had an interview today with Andres Soliz Rada, former minister of hydrocarbons. He was Evo's first minister, but he quit because of conflicts with the office of the vice-president - the VP wanted to water down the nationalization decree; Soliz wanted a full nationalization. Definitely a guy who knows MAS, knows the history of the gas, and probably the most important interview I'll get while I'm here. I interviewed him in a hotel restaurant, which was pretty noisy - people talking, jostling silverware, etc. And then a protest came by, setting off fireworks. I was really annoyed actually, but I thought "man, hopefully my mic will pick up his voice a lot better than the fireworks." But guess what? I forgot to turn my mic on. The only audio I have is what was picked up by the internal mic on my camera. Bullcrap. Mary mother of Jesus I'm mad at myself! This is one of those things that makes me feel like I have no business doing what I'm doing - after all, I study political science and economics, not video production. Well, I'm trying to console myself by thinking that it's going to be subtitled anyways.

I've had several other interviews in the past week; some good, some not so good. Another "I'm a technical fuck-up" interview was this morning, with a guy from PODEMOS who is heading an investigation on the legality of the new gas contracts (which were discussed between MAS and the gas companies behind closed doors). First, I put him where I thought was under the light, but turned out being in front of the light - his face is totally darkened by shadows. And, I forgot to turn the mic on! (no, apparently I'm NOT learning from my mistakes, but since I did it twice in one day I'm extra mad at myself). On the other hand, he didn't have a lot to say of interest, plus his English was so choppy it wouldn't have made for good film (I was told he spoke English, so I didn't bring Martijn, and then in the middle of the interview he told me he hasn't spoken English since his senior year in the States - which was 1979).

But I did have another interview with the head of the PODEMOS deputies, Lourdes Millares, which went really well. Plus, now I actually have at least one woman for my movie! I actually talked mostly politics with her; it's funny to hear PODEMOS, the right-wing party and formerly the major party of Bolivia (before MAS won in a landslide) talk about how "Evo needs to govern with inclusion, he's leaving out the minority!" because - first of all - Evo represents so many Bolivians (he's had 50-80% approval ratings since he took office), and second, the reason MAS won so handily in the last elections is because for generations the ruling elites of Bolivia ran the country on a policy of exclusion, only they didn't exclude just a minority, the excluded more than half the population.

The other interesting thing is that all the parties agreed that something different needed to happen with the gas in Bolivia - they just differed on what exactly, but not actually by much. PODEMOS wanted to "nationalize the benefits," i.e. raise taxes and use the money for health and education. In fact, this is basically what Evo did after he got elected, even though he ran on a platform of "nationalization." Unidad Nacional claimed that what was needed was more value-added activities (like refining) of the hydrocarbons, and greater control over where the gas was sold (right now, the private companies don't like selling gas in the national market because the price is lower). Essentially, they all argue for modest changes in Bolivia's favor. Which is kind of too bad, because it creates less dramatic tension for my film!


I talked with more MAS people, too. One was Rene Choque, who is on the campesino committee. He was kind of a jerk actually: I could tell he thought I was trying to tell him how to run his country or something (isn't it the reporters job to ask tough questions?), and he would never look at me, only at Martijn. All of his answers were sort of vague and non-commital, like "MAS is working for the people!" Kind of Soviet propoganda sounding, actualy. And when we left, he made some sort of joke and everyone laughed. I asked Martijn what he had said and Martijn replied, "I don't know, but I think they're making fun of us."

More or less I've gotten plenty of interviews on the political side, I think (and sorry, it was all in Spanish, so even at the time I didn't get it all, so I can't give a very detailed report). Tomorrow I'm going to try and talk to more people on the street (I talked with a few yesterday, but only three, and they were all late 20's/early 30's, and fairly well off). And then I'm off to Santa Cruz!

Oh yeah, it was National Childrens Day or something today, which means a lot of action at Burger King. And, while I was sitting with Martijn and Nelson next to the Presidential Palace, I saw some cameramen filming some important-looking adults, then they talked to some shoe-shine boys, maybe 6 and 8 years old. You see, the kids had received new shoe-shine boxes and vests. What lucky little guys! Now they don't have to deal with their old, dinged-up boxes while they beg to shine the shoes of rich people for a nickle.

Finally, my Inca Trail post!

Actually, I considered not writing about it at all, because it's so touristy and lots of people do it. But then Jason posted his pictures...

There's actually a lot of backstory before we get to the actual Trail. Eric was only in South America for 9 days, so we actually didn't have much time to waste, but the thing was that Jason booked our tour for the wrong day - Monday instead of Sunday. So we got to spend an extra night bumming around Cusco, eating anticucho (cow heart on a stick, something I didn't know until after the fact, but it was pretty tasty) and searching out coca leaves for the trek. And then, on our last night before the trek when we had our orientation, we found out that it actually was a big deal that Eric had lost his student ISIC card in Lima. I guess the agencies book tickets based on whether or not you're a student, and it's not as simple as just paying the extra $35 non-students pay. So we had to go to the tourist police, who supposedly would fill out a form for us saying that the card had been lost. But once we got there, it was obvious it was going to be bad news, because everyone we talked to (we talked to probably 4 different officers) all asked "why didn't you go back and get it? Why didn't you report it lost sooner?" (it had been two whole days since the card was lost). Basically they treated us like we were huge idiots because Eric would have rather made his flight to Cusco then go back to his hostel and look for his stupid card, which we figured got him a discount, not that it allowed him to go at all. So we got ushered into this office and sat at a desk while the two officers bent over the other computer. Presumably they were doing something that had to do with us, but pretty quick we realized they were finishing up whatever it was they had been doing before we came in. Probably their spider solitaire game or something. So after a half-hour or so of waiting, one of the guys decided to talk to us, even though all he said was "why didn't you go back for your card? Why didn't you report it lost sooner? You have to go get a new one." Very helpful. We spent an hour or so looking for someone who could make us a fake one, but no luck (ironically, counterfeit ISIC cards are super easy to get in Asia, but they're not good for anything). So the next morning, when we were supposed to meet our group and head out on the bus at 8am, we were waiting for the ISIC office to open, which didn't happen until 9:30. Once we got in there, Eric's student ID wasn't enough to show he was a student, so we had to go print off his transcript and (of course) make copies of his passport.

I think we were on the road by 11am or so, in a private taxi to catch up with our group. Fortunately, this cab was a lot faster than the one Jason and I hired at Carnival, and we made pretty good time. Still though, we could tell the group had been waiting for us a while - a great first impression. The three of us kept our heads down and didn't talk much (outside of speculating how much the group hated us for holding up what is for most people a once-in-a-lifetime trip) while we ate our lunch. Things were made even better when we got to the control point at the entrance to the Inca Trail, and Eric's ISIC card number didn't match the one on his ticket (for some reason, Eric and I had tickets issued with our ISIC number, while Jason had a ticket issued with his passport number). So obviously what had to happen was we had to sit at the booth for an hour and a half or so, while Eric and the guides pleaded our case (and tried to see if there was some sort of "fine" that could be paid) and Jason and I could feel the group's hatred of us growing. I don't know why it took so long; it seems like they could either let Eric go or not, but after a lot of deliberation they decided they would let him go, but he needed a new ticket (why this solution didn't present itself 80 minutes earlier I'm not sure). So the guide had to go back to the village (just a short walk, at least), and call the agency to get a new ticket issued. By this time, the group had started hiking, and we had to hustle to catch up. Fortunately, that didn't present too much of a problem for our Alaskan legs and coca-filled mouths. But we were still pretty nervous to talk to people at first.

Here's how the Inca Trail runs: the first day is really mellow, mostly flat with a little bit of a climb at the end. Day two is the hardest, with something like 3500 feet in elevation gain. Day three also requires an ascent over a pass,but it's not as high, and most of the day is going back down. The fourth day is just a short hike in the morning to the ruins of Macchu Picchu. Half the day is spent in the ruins, then lunch in the town below, and then back on the train to Cusco.

Cross-Section of the Trail

This is the highest pass on the trail - 13,780 ft.

View from the top of the pass

The group- victorious at the top!



Other shots from the trail

Inca Cave
Purtty peaks
And then, all of a sudden, we found ourselves in Western Washington!
Northern Andean deer - these little buggars only live above 10,000 ft.

Just a couple of sexy guys we ran into along the way.

Most of the heavy stuff is carried by porters (tents, food, gas tanks for cooking - big ones, too, 2.5 feet tall and a foot wide. One porter carries two tanks), and I think most of the people in our group had their things carried by porters, leaving just water for them to carry. Of course, as self-respecting Alaskans, Jason, Eric and I could do no such thing (even though we were just carrying sleeping bags, pads, clothes, snacks and water. I mean it was bad enough we already had some guy carrying our tents and food). And as you might expect, the porters are pretty burly guys: their calves are huge, and even with all the weight (I think the weight limit for porters is 80 pounds, which I'm pretty sure they all carry) they still scurry past all the gringos without a problem (they reach camp first and have everything set up when you get there). Our guide told us that the record for running the trail is 3:40.

The weather was less than great for our trek (it was rainy season after all. At least we didn't have trouble getting space on the trail - max 500 people a day, including porters and guides, and high season books up months in advance - and we only paid a third what you can pay in June). Generally, it would be raining when we woke up and went to bed, with a good several hours of sun inbetween. So not so bad, although all my stuff was pretty wet by the end of the second day, making the few hours of sun that much sweeter. The food was OK, although not great, and we were all still a little hungry even right after meals. The guides wake you up with mate in the morning though, which is pretty nice. And actually, the weather made for some cool moments: on the second night, we were camped under a starry sky at over 10,000 feet while thunderstorms raged in the clouds below us; another time, we were on Inca Trail that was etched into a really steep cliff, and just below us was a solid wall of mist - it looked like you could almost walk on it.

Even after all we put them through, our group was pretty fun. There were three Argentinians (who call each other "che" and talk funny - pollo becomes posho, for example), two English girls, three Dutch girls (of course, the attack of the ubiquitous Dutch), and an Israeli guy. The Israeli in our group I liked alright, even though he acted like a know-it-all (he spent several minutes explaining to Eric how to use his backpack belt) and was super-competitive ("I'm just trying to do the best I can. And if I beat everyone, that's good too"). He taught us a fun card game called yanev, which involves a lot of back-stabbing and enmity. It was interesting to hear him talk about how it's such an "Israeli" game, because it involves cutthroat competition and deceit (every time I think I learn something about Israel, I unlearn it - these are not adjectives I would have necessarily used for Israelis). We had two games going, and whenever someone in the other circle would get upset, he would say "see, I love this game! It makes people hate each other!"

There are lots of ruins along the way, most of which I don't remember much about - and didn't learn much about anyways (so if you want to know more, the readers on Amazon.com seem to like Explore the Inca Trail, probably available in your local library. Maybe I should read it too, so I actually know about what I saw). My Spanish wasn't good enough to be with the Spanish group, and the English speaking guide didn't have very good English. In one ruin, someone asked if the layout of the ruin had any significance, which the guide didn't understand at first, and then he just said "no, it doesn't." Then I went over to the Spanish group, where the guide was just finishing up explaining about how the entire ruin was laid out like an Incan cross, with each point representing a certain deity. I thought that was kind of bullcrap - basically, I could have access to lots of information but not understand most of it, or understand everything but learn nothing. But there was one ruin where there was an administrative center, and several way-stations for Inca Trail runners, and several religious sites. All the ruins had terraced areas that created micro-climates for different crops; one ruin was even designed as an agricultural labratory where the Incas experimented with new potato cross-breeds and stuff.

Waypost for Inca runners

I forget what this is. Something, I'm sure.

This is the main administrative center of the valley. There was an observatory, and they had these lighthouses for signalling with fire - they would use a sheet of silvr or bronze as a mirror.



Most of the trail is original Inca Trail, even though the stonework is a lot shoddier than it must have been hundreds of years ago. I actually think it's really funny that when the Incans needed to send messages, they just sent some dude running as fast as he could down this really nicely paved network of stone highways. They only had to run less than a mile usually before they reached the next post, but still, humans are like the slowest animals on the planet. I mean, it's so funny that for all their advanced knowledge of astronomy and agriculture, the Incans never developed the wheel as a tool. So they could never, say, harness some llamas to a chariot or something (the first chariots were pulled by horses too small to ride, until selective breeding changed that).

The last day, the group wakes up and hikes to the Sun Gate to watch the sun rise - or, in our case, watch the mist shift around and the rain fall. The last day was the wettest, and I was soaked through most of it. Fortunately, once free-time came around, the sun was starting to come out and I got to dry off. That was also the time when the package tourists (the people that didn't hike the trail; they took the train from Cusco) arrived from Aguas Callientes, the little town built just for tourists at the bottom of Macchu Picchu. The Peruvian government only allows 500 people a day onto the trail, but I don't think there's any limit on the number allowed on the actual ruins. The groups were so large that the guides had these big, color-coded flags to lead them around.

That's right, it rained a lot at MP, and wasn't much fun. On the plus side, I found that water bottle unopened. And that thing costs like $9 at MP.

The main plaza as the sun starts to burn off the rain...

The Three Windows (actually, the one on the left isn't one of the three. The third is out of the frame). This was a temple in MP; one window for each main diety: snake, puma, and condor, representing the underworld, terrestrial world, and heavenly world, respectively.Jason showing his coolness in front of the Three Windows (in this case, the third window is behind the pillar).The Classic MP shot. I'm starting a poscard company.

This is the "Condor Rock" inside the Temple of the Condor

Agricultural terraces

This is an Inca Something. And the three of us just looking adorable!

The Inca Bridge, which runs along a different Inca Trail. You can't go on the bridge. But it looks like if they had had a little more time to fill in the gap, they wouldn't have needed those planks...

Inca Stairs

Me n Eric in a building that was probably for storing potatos or something

Inca House - those posts are for fastening the llama skin/thatch roofs to the buildings

The Three Amigos

I think this was a sacraficial area. Nice stonework, though. The Incas had groups of people who would sit around and sand down the stones until they fit perfectly.

So yes, the ruins were spectacular and bizarre and amazing, although the huge groups of fanny pack-clad, crystal-white t-shirt sporting tourists took some of the mystery out of it. And then whatever mystery was left was lost completely when some guy got a call on his cell phone. It's funny, in my mind I imagined this totally lost wilderness through the valley (maybe because that's how it would be in Alaska), but people live in and farm the valley, still using the original Incan terraces and irrigation systems. It's not really that remote - no machete required.

After we were done at Macchu Picchu, the group was supposed to meet in a restaurant in Aguas Callientes, the little town built just for tourists at the bottom of Macchu Picchu. To get there, we (Eric, Jason and I) could either take a bus that took 30 or 40 minutes, or we could walk down the rock steps. I asked my friends if we could, as self-respecting hikers and Alaskans, really take a bus DOWN a hill. Of course the answer was no. Instead, we ran down the steps as fast as we could (which is why my calves were so sore the next day), making the journey to town in about an hour - although we stopped for about 10 minutes to talk to some Alaskans we met on the way (thanks to one of the girls sporting a "Alaskan Amber" fleece).

In the restaurant, we were charged American prices for Peruvian service; our drinks didn't come until the end of our meal, even though we asked about them a couple times, and I didn't get my meal until a half-hour after everyone else had finished. When I finally asked, our waitress told me that I had already eaten, and we got into an argument about whether or not I had gotten my lunch. Eventually, she said "oh, hold on," and came back a minute later with a plate of ice-cold food. Then, at the end, she added a service charge to each of our checks. Bienvenidos a restaurantes de Suramerica, I guess. The food was mediocre.

And then we took the train back to Cusco to buy fingerpuppets.