July 24, 2008
Mt. Crested Butte
hdr_deck_view.jpg
Originally uploaded by Suffering the Benz
While I was in Colorado last week, I managed to snap a few HDR shots, most of them at Oh Be Joyful campground (with a name like that, how can it not be an incredible place?). But I think my favorite is this one of Mt. Crested Butte, taken off the deck of the house we rented in town.
I've posted photos of my Colorado trip here on Flickr, and I added several new shots to my HDR collection during the Montana and Colorado trips. They're at the bottom of the set ...
What's HDR? Here's an explanation.
Posted by Bob Benz at 10:36 AM | Comments (0)
Dog days in Crested Butte
gunther.jpg
Originally uploaded by Suffering the Benz
I went to the land of the Mountain Hippie last week and learned the ZenDog ways of Crested Butte.
During a cold, early morning hike on a trail in the shadow of Mt. Crested Butte, I saw some sort of cattle-dog cross maniacally yapping and circling a mountain biker while the dog's owner tried in vain to recall the mutt. The cyclist calmly dismounted, putting the bike between him and the frenetic canine until it drew tired of the game and ran back to its owner of its own volition.
As I approached the cyclist, I fully expected a rant on idiots who let their dogs run loose and don't control them. It's what I was thinking. But he calmly looked at me while he fiddled with the earbuds of his iPod and beamed "Good morning."
"Without a doubt," I replied.
"Do you go far up the mountain."
"Only about 45 minutes walk. I'm still getting acclimated to this 9,000 foot stuff."
"Where are you from?"
It continued like that for a few more minutes and I was on my way. In a short encounter, I'd learned the way of the Mountain Hippie and the effect the incredible beauty of Crested Butte has on everyone touched by it.
And any town this nuts about dogs has to be OK. Witness Gunther (pictured), the coolest dog in Crested Butte. In this photo, he's frolicking in a stream at Oh Be Joyful Campground just outside of town. Gunther is known to sleep in the street in front of his house. He's so well known and people are so dog friendly, they just slowly steer around him ...
Posted by Bob Benz at 10:29 AM | Comments (0)
July 15, 2008
Sunset camper
HDR_truck_sunset_flowers
Originally uploaded by Suffering the Benz
I took this HDR shot of the camper on John's land at sunset. The camper has survived one vicious attack by Mountain mountain rednecks and it still provides solid shelter from the bears. We didn't see any bears while we were there, but I'm pretty sure we heard one rumbling around at sunrise. That made me glad I heeded John's advice to sleep in the back of his truck rather than in a tent. I did see two spectacular redtail hawks soaring in the morning breezes and startled a buck while I was lurking around out in the woods that morning. That piece of land is an amazing place.
Posted by Bob Benz at 10:12 AM | Comments (0)
Montana mountains
HDR_truck_moon_sunset4.jpg
Originally uploaded by Suffering the Benz
This is the view from John's land east of Missoula. It's an amazing spot bristling with pine trees, mountain wildflowers and assorted critters. I took this HDR shot around sunset. If you look closely, you can see a pinpoint of light that is the waxing moon.
Posted by Bob Benz at 10:08 AM | Comments (0)
June 26, 2008
Tent with a view ...
tent_view.jpg
Originally uploaded by Suffering the Benz
I just added this to the Rooms with a View group on Flickr. It's the view from my tent in the wilds of Pennsyltucky during a weekend "Pickin' Party" that featured incredible guitarists, fiddle players and other assorted musicians in addition to some of my nearest and dearest friends.
Of all my Rooms with a View shots, this probably is my favorite: My friends' tents drifting into the woods all around me and the sound of Pittsburgh accents filling the air ...
Posted by Bob Benz at 11:48 AM | Comments (1)
June 25, 2008
A refuge for the big, the fat, the muscular and the tall
Sometimes the travel gods smile upon me, other times they smite me.
Yesterday, they were playing the prankster.
I was arrived at the Kansas City airport in time to stand by on an earlier flight to Chicago, where I was connecting to Beautiful KnoxVegas. With a gentle nudge from the travel gods, I made the flight and when I got to Chicago I started getting United Airlines e-mail updates on the flight I was supposed to be on. It was delayed. Again. And again. And again. Sadly for the poor people who didn't get the earlier flight, the 4 p.m. KC to Chicago plane didn't leave till 10:21 KC time, more than six hours late. I definitely would have missed my connection, and this surreal experience.
While I was milling about the concourse waiting for the Knoxville flight, I saw a lanky guy walking around looking a tad confused. I had him pegged for a Tennessee boy through and through, and on the way out to the plane I chuckled when he was amazed that we were walking across the tarmac to climb into the 50 seat Canadair Regional Jet.
"I've never been on one this small," he said, clearly nervous.
I tried to be reassuring. "They're good little jets," I told him. "I fly them all the time." But i was thinking: "I hope this 6-foot-6 beanpole isn't sitting next to me ...
He wasn't. He was one row head of me, across the aisle. And I was in the 13th row, right next to the pisser. Several other large people lumbered aboard. The largest ended up sitting right in front of me. And then Muscle Man boarded ... and sat down in the window seat right next to me. Shit.
Turns out Lanky Dude was really from the Bay Area and was making his first trip East of the Mississippi to visit his sister in Oak Ridge. He looked at Muscle Man and asked him if he played for the Chicago Bulls, despite the fact he was "only" about six foot tall. But the dude was cut. He laughed and said no. Rather than putting on my iPod to block out all human interaction, though, I kept the ear buds holstered. It was just a hunch.
We ended up having one of the most fun and entertaining hour-and-a-half flights I've been on. It started when the flight attendant looked at our two rows sympathetically, We were a refuge for the big, the fat, the muscular and the tall. All the biggest people on the plane were in our two rows at the back of the aircraft, which set off a round of jokes.
Lanky Dude was kind of dorky, but he was a good guy. The rest of us live in Tennessee, so we started giving him grief about what to expect. The moonshine. Catching catfish by hand. Neyland Stadium.
Muscle guy apparently played college ball for a small school in Mississippi, which mightily impressed Lanky Dude (and me, for that matter). We spent the entire flight cutting up and joking with the flight attendant. I even bought Muscle Guy a beer. The big guy in front of me talked about his world travels, including charity work he'd done in Haiti. He's a native Knoxvillian, so he had plenty of inside info for Lanky Dude, including inside info on grits and sweet tea.
When we landed, Muscle Guy gave Lanky Dude his number and told him to call if he wanted to go out and catch some catfish by hand. We'd all bonded in that stupid little tin can. It was one of those sublime experiences that makes travel worthwhile.
As we came out of the concourse, Lanky Dude's sister was there to greet him. I told him to have fun in Tennessee while he sauntered up to his sister like the Scarecrow dancing down the Yellow Brick Road. I hope he has fun on his Tennessee sojourn. The image of this talk, skinny white geek and the muscular African American dude wading in Watts Bar Lake stalking catfish won't leave my mind ...
Posted by Bob Benz at 8:35 PM | Comments (1)
June 13, 2008
A stone's throw from the Durty Leprechaun ...
copperleaf_appleton.jpg
Originally uploaded by Suffering the Benz
The view from my fifth floor room at the Copperleaf Boutique Hotel in Appleton, Wisconsin. Overall, nice hotel. OK gym (clean but too few machines). And Appleton was a nice surprise. Great cigar store (Appleton Souvenir and Cigar Co.) a short walk from the hotel and a watering hole called the Durty Leprechaun which, sadly, I didn't test drive.
That's the Fox Cities Performing Arts Center to the right, on College Avenue, where I found the cigar store and noticed the Durty Leprechaun.
Rooms with a View group on Flickr ...
Posted by Bob Benz at 4:01 PM | Comments (0)
June 4, 2008
Knoxville airport adds insult to injury ...
As I was paying my parking fee late last night at mighty McGhee Tyson airport, I noticed a sign warning that they're raising rates effective July 1, 2008. Looks as if long term will jump from $8 to $10 a day. Short term is going up, too, but I didn't catch the rate since I was more focused on the long term increase. Of course, their website makes no mention of the hike. Guess they're too ashamed to make it public and try to explain themselves.
So gas prices are soaring. Airlines are nickle-diming travelers every chance they get and providing a truly miserable experience. And now the airport is going to charge you an extra $2 a day to park long term. Sorry, but that's crap. Talk about kicking road warriors when they're down ...
Posted by Bob Benz at 10:54 AM | Comments (1)
June 3, 2008
Rooms with a View: Truck crash
Truck Crash in Fredericksburg
Originally uploaded by Howard Owens
Leave it to Howard to get the news angel in the Rooms with a View group. This is his shot of a truck crash in Fredericksburg as seen from his room at the Hilton Garden Inn.
If you have photos take from hotel rooms, submit them to the Rooms with a View group here ...
Posted by Bob Benz at 8:55 PM | Comments (0)
Rooms with a View: Virginia B&B
Mount Holly Bed & Breakfast, Nomini, VA
Originally uploaded by sailorbill
Another shot in the Rooms with a View group, this one of from sailorbill of Mount Holly Bed & Breakfast, Nomini, VA.
Posted by Bob Benz at 8:51 PM | Comments (0)
Rooms with a View ... Hong Kong-Lee 052
Hong Kong-Lee 052
Originally uploaded by Ron Feinbaum
After I created the Rooms with a View group on Flickr, I got distracted and didn't revisit for a while. When I did, I found a slew of cool photos other folks have uploaded, including this shot of Hong Kong by Ron. Apparently, I'm not the only one with a penchant for snapping photos of hotel views ...
Posted by Bob Benz at 8:49 PM | Comments (0)
May 23, 2008
Rooms with a view ...
I’ve spent entirely too much of my life staring listlessly out of hotel windows, too tired to enjoy the city that lies beneath me and knowing full well that I really should anyway.
For reasons that even I don’t fully understand, I’ve taken to snapping photos like this from the windows of the hotels I stay in. And for even more obtuse reasons, I’ve decided to start a Flickr set to encourage Road Warriors, Recreational Travelers and anyone who finds him or herself in a hotel to contribute their hotel art. Details about the hotel would be nice but not required.
This shot is of the Denver skyline as seen from the Convention Center Hyatt.
Here’s a link to the photoset. I’ve already seeded it with a few photos and will be adding more as my travels permit. Enjoy …
Posted by Bob Benz at 10:12 AM | Comments (0)
April 23, 2008
W sucks
No. Not that W. I’ll save that rant for another post.
This one is targeted at The W hotels in general and the Atlanta-Perimeter W in particular.
The W annoys the crap out of me, from the Eurotrash music that throbs in the elevators to the dark hallways to the copies of Wired magazine in the rooms. They’re just trying too damned hard to be hip. And generally, if you have to try that hard, you ain’t. Though I realize the real issue here could be that I’m a decidedly middle-aged guy who’s in bed by 10 every night and more interested in the quality of the fitness center than the hipster cocktails at the bar. But I’d sooner think it’s The W’s problem, not mine. It’s easier that way …
As for the W Atlanta-Perimeter, we decided it’s merely a V after staying there for several nights this week. The offenses were small and great, ranging from a hyperhip coffee bar that shutters at 11 a.m. to a fitness center that totally sucks despite its hipster name, “Sweat.”
The V appears to be a failed attempt to transform a stereotypical suburban Atlanta hotel into something special. They got halfway there.
The ultimate strange event was when one of my cohorts returned to his room late one night to find all his stuff was gone. Well, it wasn’t gone. His cloths were wadded up in a bag and his computers were over in a back corner. Apparently, a computer problem led the staff to believe he’d abandoned all this and they were gathering it up. Not sure what they would have done with it from there, and it was only after being insistent that he convinced the hotel it needed to iron the clothes they’d wadded up in the bag so he could wear them the next day.
On the bright side, the V delivered pretty well for the meeting we were holding. The food service was good and they did a solid job of planning it. Few things are more nightmarish than having the hotel facilities crumble before your eyes while 50+ meeting attendees are sitting there waiting to get started.
Posted by Bob Benz at 11:23 AM | Comments (2)
April 4, 2008
Miracles on the border
During my trip to Austin last week, I managed to find time to hit a few art galleries. The Mexic-Arte Museum on Congress is featuring an exhibit called The Huge and the Small, where several pieces caught my eye. The exhibit mixes large and small works, including Gustavo Monroy's "Totem," a large five-pieces work that appears to be a meditation on the Garden of Eden myth
On the small side of the equation, I flashed back to some of the tiny Dutch paintings I saw in the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam. Xavier Esqueda's "La Fertilidad Incipiente" was excellent and I really liked an ipod piece by Jose Antonio Hernandez Vargas. It was called "A Negra," and featured a swirl of flies buzzing around the screen of a video ipod forming the letter A. It was the music playing in the background that first drew me to it. Never figured out what it was, though. Haunting. Or maybe hypnotic is a better description.
And then I drifted into an exhibit called "Retablos: Miracles on the Border." Great stuff. The retablos are done on wood or metal by people who want to thank a saint for a miracle. The retablos range from the poignant to the rough-hewn. My favorite told the story of a man who petitioned St. Michael the Archangel so the documents for his pickup truck would come through. The retablo, on metal with spots of rust showing through, thanks the saint for interceding and ensuring the paperwork was delivered. Behind the steering wheel of a pickup truck sits the petitioner, a pleased smile on his face.
There were numerous retablos of this sort. It was amazing to drift through them and read these people's tales of personal miracles, many of which were tied to immigration to the U.S. from Mexico.
The museum itself is strange in a good way. It's small, almost claustrophobic, with low ceilings that often forced me to duck lights when I was standing in front of the retablos. It has a very cool gift shop that managed to liberate a few dollars from me. Definitely worth checking out if you happen to drift through Austin ...
Posted by Bob Benz at 5:38 PM | Comments (0)
10 reasons your travel blog sucks ...
From Gridskipper comes this amusing top 10 list. I'm afraid I'm guilty as charged on several of these counts ...
Posted by Bob Benz at 5:35 PM | Comments (0)
January 29, 2008
City lights in San Francisco ...
I'm still grinning after reading random lines of Gary Snyder in the Poetry Room at City Lights last night. In a world quickly moving toward e-readers and cell phone novels, it was reassuring to drift among stacks of books and pick up volumes on impulse, graze a few graphs and move on. Wallace Stevens. Hart Crane. Denise Levertov. Lao Tzu. I could almost feel Ferlinghetti's hot, beat breath on the back of my neck as the smell of yellow pages filled the room and the floorboards creaked beneath me.
Posted by Bob Benz at 9:44 AM | Comments (1)
October 7, 2007
Kid Delicious and the happy ending ...
My travels landed me in New York this week, where my friend Mike was reading from his book "The Card: Collectors, Con Men and the True Story of History's Most Desired Baseball Card." The reading was at a bar on the Lower East Side called The Happy Ending. Dubious, I grabbed a cab and headed downtown.
The Happy Ending was tough to spot. The cabbie looked a bit confused. But my directions said to look for a sign that said "Health Club." After a little searching, there it was. And it wasn't a massage parlor after all, though apparently it was at one time and that's where it got its name.
Mike did a great job at the reading, but the highlight of the night came when Sports Illustrated writer L. Jon Wertheim read from his book, "Running the Table: The Legend of Kid Delicious, the Last Great American Pool Hustler."
Actually, it wasn't Wertheim who was the highlight. It was the fact that Kid Delicious and his sidekick, Bristol Bob, were in the bar and took the stage. They were hilarious, especially when Kid talked about pool hustles they pulled in the South. Birmingham seemed to cause him particular trauma. Kid was a sort of seizure-driven version of Jackie Gleason, spreading a thick Jersey accent onto the microphone as he spoke. Bristol Bob was one of those guys who oozes cool. Their method was for Bob to make the scene first and play several games. Then Kid would show up, overweight, acting a bit clueless, dribbling cake crumbs and looking vulnerable. While Bob's a very good pool player, Kid is a genius who would proceed to dominate the hall and walk out with everyone's money.
I talked to Kid for a bit after the reading and was impressed. Apparently, they're talking about turning the Wertheim book into a movie. That would be cool ...
To top the night off, Mike and I drank a beer on a doorstep of a Lower East Side apartment, enjoying the late night sounds and smells of Indian Summer in New York. What an amazing city.
Posted by Bob Benz at 12:39 PM | Comments (2)
August 7, 2007
A fish tale
Rusty, Wes and I spent a day at sea last weekend fishing for grouper and snapper in the Gulf of Mexico off St. Petersburg, Fla. We set off into what looked like a perfect day, but 2 to 2.5 foot seas made the trip out pretty rough. No seasickness during the hour-plus journey to get to cooler water where the grouper and snapper have retreated in the heat of summer, but we got bounced around a lot and were definitely relieved when the boat finally stopped about 50 miles out and we started fishing.
Overall, we had a great day. Wes snagged a several big snapper and a keeper grouper and Rusty managed to land four sharks, much against his will. He will henceforth be known as "Shark Man," and we agreed never to speak of his antics again, much as the characters at the end of Deliverance made a pact to keep the trip secret. That Rusty sure does got a purty mouth, I'll tell you what ...
We also pulled in a nice kingfish.
In this photo, the frenetic Captain Nelson, holds up two of the snapper we caught while Wes grins smugly in the background. Nelson and Captain Toby did a great job helping us pull in fish and untangle lines.
We retreated to Rusty's house afterward, where Wes and Rusty's wife Janet cooked up snapper, grouper and kingfish in every way imaginable. It was incredible. I had a big kingfish steak, which was much better than the mackerel we caught and ate the last time we fished Tampa Bay.
I've uploaded more photos here on my Flickr account.
Posted by Bob Benz at 7:32 PM | Comments (0)
July 16, 2007
Close encounter with Bill Gates in Peru?
Since I returned from Peru, I've been corresponding via e-mail with "Dennis of Cusco," one of the street kids we met there. I received the following note from Dennis yesterday. I have no idea if it's true. These kids can be pretty crafty, and in the same note about Bill Gates, Dennis makes an appeal for financial help with his education. But with that caveat, here's his account:
"I was selling postcards June 24 at about 8:00 p.m. I was at the Plaza de Armas, and I went to the " Hotel Monastery " to sell postcards for a moment, and four people went out of the hotel. I did not offer them anything, but I decided to discreetly follow them, and they walked first along a few places that are not very touristy and went away later to the " Plaza de Armas."
And in the Plaza de Armas, I tried to sell them, I recognized one of them because I read a bit of his life on the Internet, and he was Bill Gates. I tied to sell them, and I told a few jokes, as when you and your friend Jackson were in the Cusco, but only three persons laughed, two women and man. But Bill Gates did not, and later for a joke I bought myself two postcards for 10 Soles, but I wanted to try to sell Bill Gates, but I was treated like he did not seem me, he was very quiet, but I wanted to speak to him, and I spoke to him.
"But he was not saying anything, and later the woman said I could take a photo with him (but I did not have camera). The woman was very nice, and later I said to her that he was a good person, and I went away, and when I went away, there were two persons who him who were continuing for a long time, because when I was in the Hotel Monastery, it should try to sell first two persons, were one of the UNITED STATES and I believe one was from Peru, but they were very discreet, and when I went away, the Peruvian said to me " molestoso you are ", and I went away.
"I think, I am a very lucky person because not even the press could find Bill Gates in thePlaza de Armas of Cusco, and I was the only one trying to sell postcards to the famous Bill Gates.
"You can believe that Bill Gates walked along the " Plaza de Armas " of Cusco, and I was the only person who recognized him.
"Until another day dear friend Bob.
"Your friend dennis del Cusco."
(This translation is pretty mangled, since it was run through an online translator. I tried to smooth it out some, but my Spanish is very elementary. Here's the original:)
Yo el 24 de junio fuí a vender postales. Aproximadamente a las 8:00 de la noche, yo estaba por la plaza de armas, y fuí al "Hotel Monasterio" a vender postales por un momento, y de ese hotel salieron cuatro personas, y yo no les ofrecí, pero algo me decia que les siga, y yo discretamente les seguí, y ellos pasearon primero por unos lugares que no son muy turisticos y se fueron después a la "Plaza de armas" y en la "Plaza de Armas" yo trate de venderles, yo recocí a uno de ellos, porque yo leí un poco de su vida de esa persona en internet, y era Bill Gates, yo trate de venderles, y les hice como unos chistes, como cuando usted y su amigo Jackson estaban en el cusco, pero solo tres personas se rieron, dos mujeres y hombre, pero Bill Gates no, y después y una de las mujeres por el chiste me compro dos postales por 10 soles, pero yo quería tratar de venderle a Bill Gates, pero el trataba que no le vea, él era muy callado, pero yo quería hablarle a él, y le hablé, pero el no hablaba nada, y después a una de las mujeres les dije que si podía tomarme una foto con él(pero no tenía camara) , y la mujer me agarro del brazo, y no se que me dijo, pero ella era muy amable, y después le dije que él era una buena persona, y él se volteo, y no se que les dijo, y yo me fuí, y cuando me fuí, había dos personas que le estaban siguiendo durante mucho tiempo, porque cuando yo estaba en el Hotel Monasterio, les trate de vender primero a dos personas, era uno de los ESTADOS UNIDOS y el otro creo era de Perú, pero eran muy discretos, y cuando me fuí, el peruano me dijo" molestoso eres", y me fuí.
Creo creo yo soy una persona muy afortunada, porque ni la prensa pudo encontrar a "Bill Gates" en la "PLAZA DE ARMAS del cusco, y yo fuí el unico vendedor que trato de venderle postales a un famoso como Bill Gates.
Usted puede creer que "Bill Gates" se paseo por la "PLAZA DE ARMAS" del cusco, y yo fuí la unica persona que le reconoció.
Hasta otro dia querido amigo Bob.
Tu amigo dennis del Cusco.
Posted by Bob Benz at 8:45 AM | Comments (0)
June 25, 2007
I'm being stalked by Incans
Ever since I returned from Machu Picchu, I've seen tons of mentions and coverage of the sacred Incan site. Most recently, the New York Times Magazine had a piece yesterday on a tug of war between Yale and Peru over artifacts from Bingham's "discovery" of the site.
Other curious mentions:
Cameron Diaz visited the ruins and managed to offend many Peruvians with her fashion statement, a bag that featured a picture of Mao and one of his spiffy sayings. Given the havoc the Shining Path and its Maoist crap have caused in Peru, it's little wonder she saw fit to apologize for the incident
Another New York Times piece on Choquequirao, the "other Machu Picchu," which is much less crowded. It drew this spirited letter in defense of Machu Picchu's honor. I completely agree with the letter writer's assessment.
Not to be outdone by Cameron, Bill Gates made the scene, apparently managing to get in and out without creating a fashion faux pas.
And finally, I've been getting almost weekly e-mails from "Dennis of Cusco," one of the street kids Wes and I met while we were there. I gave him my e-mail at the time, declining to buy any of his postcards and never expecting to hear from him. But he's been dutifully sending me e-mails about is life and times in Cusco. It's awesome. He gets to practice his English and I get inside accounts of what it's like selling postcards on the streets.
Small world, indeed.
Posted by Bob Benz at 8:12 PM | Comments (0)
June 6, 2007
Babushkas and hard hats
During our trip to the 'Burg, Lara and I took one of the tours sponsored by Rivers of Steel, a non-profit group that's doing great things to preserve Pittsburgh's industrial past. They offer several tours, and this one, Babushkas and Hard Hats, focused on the immigrant experience in Pittsburgh. (Babushkas are the head scarves Eastern European women wear, but when I was a kid, we used the word to describe any older Hunky woman.)
In short, the tour was fantastic, especially since it focused on several sites that are pivotal in a novel I've been plotting out for several years (but never have gotten around to writing ...)
We started on the Southside at Station Square, where I snapped this HDR picture of the Clinton Furnace with the PPG building in the background. The Clinton furnace was one of the first Bessemer blast furnaces in the area and revolutionized steel making in Pittsburgh and across the world. We also saw key sites in from the Homestead Steel Strike, which is a pivotal part of the novel I'm plotting. And perhaps most importantly, we stopped at H and B Bakery for some Eastern European sweets.
Posted by Bob Benz at 8:25 AM | Comments (2)
June 3, 2007
Pierogies and Iron City
So a Peruvian, an Edinboro graduate and a socialist walk into a bar
I know. Sounds like the opening of a bad joke. But it actually was a good joke. The fates were playing interesting games in Pittsburgh on Friday night, and the result was a hell of a lot of fun.
Lara and I (well, mostly me, truth be told) wanted to chow down on some authentic Eastern European food while we were in the Burgh, and after a bit of Googling around, we came across the Bloomfield Bridge Tavern, aka Pittsburghs Polish Partyhouse. They have their own MySpace page, which was a definite plus, and Bloomfield is the neighborhood my father grew up in. So we decided to give it a shot.
We arrived early, at around 5 oclock, to find owner Steve Frankowski manning the bar. It's a great neighborhood dive bar in the Pittsburgh tradition, and we quickly settled in, ordered an Iron City and a Polish Platter, which included pierogies, haluski, golabkis (or halupki, as my Slovak grandmother called stuffed cabbages) and an assortment of other butter-laden cabbage and potato fare. The food was fantastic, and I ended up cruising through 13 pierogies before all was said and done, and probably as many Iron Cities. (Never fear, we took a cab ...)
That's when a series of bizarre coincidences started. As we talked, I told Steve I was a native yinzer and that I'd gone to college at Edinboro, an academic slum south of Erie, Pa. Turns out he did, too, and graduated a year before I did. As we talked, an assortment of interesting characters drifted in and out to order a few beers and pierogies, which Steve described as his "loss leader." As the night went on, I saw why. Almost everyone, young and old, ordered up some pierogies or a Polish platter and a few beers.
A bit later, a Peruvian wandered in and sat down next to me. I was in Peru less than a month ago, and Jorge is in Pittsburgh doing doctoral work in Spanish. We had a great time chatting about all things Peru. Until Dan the Socialist overheard me complaining bitterly about Hugo Chavez, the despotic left-wing wingnut who's currently running Venezuela into the ground and closing newspapers and TV stations. We had a great argument about the relative merits of Chavez (I could find no merit) and in the end, everyone shared a drink in honor of Peru.
The crowd was fascinating. Great mix of locals, punk rockers and folks who were stopping by to sample the pierogies. At about 9:30 or so, a band started playing that could best be described as a cross between the Minutemen, the Sex Pistols and Fugazi. I'm not sure which of the three bands on the night's bill they were, since they never bothered to introduce themselves. They were either Surrounded by Assholes, Alcoholocaust or the Goddamn Dirty Dogshed Band. Take your pick. The result was a furious set of 60-second screamed songs.
I later saw the bald, heavily tattooed lead singer emerge from the bathroom with a big red welt on his forehead. Not sure where the injury came from. Didn't want to ask. But I did tell him I liked their set and as we talked, it turned out they have Tennessee ties and have played Knoxville a few times.
After that, I bid Steve the Edinboro grad, the Peruvian, the Socialist and all the punkers within earshot goodbye and Lara and I headed back downtown. Later, my father told me that bar was a main spot when he was a kid, and he recalled getting fish sandwiches there on Friday nights. The fish has been replaced by pierogies, but it's definitely worth checking out if you ever find yourself in the Iron City.
Posted by Bob Benz at 7:29 PM | Comments (1)
June 1, 2007
Pissed off Pittsburghers ...
I forgot how much fun it is to sit among a few thousand pissed off yinzers screaming for blood when one of their sports gods has let them down.
I went to see the Pirates play the Padres last night, and I took my brother and his family along for the ride. Despite a torrential rain and bomb threats that closed the Fort Pitt and Squirrel Hill tubes, the game got started about an hour late, at 8 o'clock.
I'm not a big baseball fan, but hell. Beer. Hotdogs. A chance to yell for the home team. I'm there. And all was good till the 9th inning, when the Pirates sent a hapless reliever in to try to seal up a 2-0 victory on the strength of Shawn Chacon's very strong pitching performance up to that point.
The reliever, Salomon Torres, promptly gave up 2 runs, and the Pirates ultimately lost the game 4-2 in the 11th. The abuse from the fans was astoundingly cool. From the stands around us, they shouted at the umps, the pitchers, the porky Padres right fielder (who heard one of their quips and burst into a wide grin). There are no greater pessimists among sports fans than Pittsburghers. It's like they were waiting to lose the game for nine innings, and when their prophesy proved self-fulfilling, they still howled in indignation. As we filed out of the stadium, one of the most virulent hecklers just sat dejectedly in his seat, head down, beer empty. My brother patted him on the back in an attempt to console him, but to no avail.
Damn, it was fun. I'm almost glad we lost.
Posted by Bob Benz at 12:22 PM | Comments (0)
May 19, 2007
Hijos de Peru
These kids followed us around at the lake In Peru like a pack of puppies, and unlike the children in Cuzco, they never asked for anything. They were just out having fun on a Saturday afternoon when the stumbled upon a pair of giant Gringos and decided to make the most of it. They really made the day special.
I've pulled together some of the better shots of kids that I took while I was in Peru, and you can see them here
Posted by Bob Benz at 8:04 PM | Comments (0)
May 18, 2007
LBJ at Machu Picchu
America's littlest president, LBJ, also made the trip to Machu Picchu with me and Wes, where we wreaked a little havoc and shared tales of tequila, Texas and the American way.
Posted by Bob Benz at 8:46 PM | Comments (3)
May 12, 2007
Cloud Forest Flower
I'm not certain what the name of this flower is. Might be some sort of orchid. There were a lot of them in the cloud forest that surrounds the Machu Picchu Pueblo Hotel in Aguas Calientes.
Posted by Bob Benz at 8:23 PM | Comments (0)
The Crop Circles of Moray
This is an HDR shot of Moray, a series of circular terraces that archeologists believe the Incans used as some sort of agricultural test center, growing various crops in the microclimates that each terrace provides. This is an unrestored site. There is another site here that has been restored and gives a clearer idea of what it must have looked like in Incan times. Those are the Urubamba and Vilcabamba mountain ranges in the distance. We arrived early and had the place to ourselves, providing some of the most spectacular vistas of the trip.
Posted by Bob Benz at 8:22 PM | Comments (0)
Sunset over Miraflores
This is an HDR shot of the Pacific Ocean shot from the Miraflores section of Lima around sunset. This was taken from LarcoMar, a mall built into the cliffs above the ocean. It's not only a great mall, but they also have a great cigar store packed with Cubans.
Posted by Bob Benz at 8:13 PM | Comments (0)
Corn Fields and a Lake
This is an HDR photo of a lake where we ate lunch one afternoon in Peru. Corn fields ran down to the water's edge, and the mountains loomed in the distance. Toss in brooding skies and you have a pretty phenomenal HDR image.
Posted by Bob Benz at 8:13 PM | Comments (0)
The Salt Mines
This HDR photo was taken at the Salineras, vast salt mines near Tarabamba. There are about 3,000 squares terraced into the valley, and families can own up to 9 squares. People have been mining salt here since Incan times.
Posted by Bob Benz at 8:13 PM | Comments (0)
Las Montanas
Drama, pure and simple. The clouds and mountains combine for a great HDR shot at Moray, an ancient Incan agricultural test ground. These are the Urubamba and Vilcabamba mountain ranges.
Posted by Bob Benz at 8:12 PM | Comments (1)
A Peruvian Cemetery
This is a cemetery in the hills above the Urubamba River Valley. Hernan and I went hiking after lunch one afternoon and stumbled across this. I had to shoot it through the gate, which was locked.
Posted by Bob Benz at 8:12 PM | Comments (0)
The Urubamba River Valley
The Urubamba River snakes through the valley with the town clearly visible on the opposite bank. I think that's a bullfighting rink down there near the water, and somewhere down there is Hernan's aunt's house. This is another HDR shot that I took during my trip to Peru.
Posted by Bob Benz at 8:11 PM | Comments (0)
Ollantaytambo views
This is somewhere near Ollantaytambo, I think. HDR provides a neat contrast between the mountains in the distance and the wildflowers in the forground.
Posted by Bob Benz at 8:11 PM | Comments (0)
Cloud Forest Waterfall
This is an HDR shot of a waterfall in the cloud forest that surrounds the Machu Picchu Pueblo Hotel in Aguas Calientes, a short bus ride from Machu Picchu.
Posted by Bob Benz at 8:10 PM | Comments (0)
Cloud Forest River
An HDR photo of the river in the cloud forest that surrounds the Machu Picchu Pueblo Hotel in Aguas Calientes, a short bus ride from Machu Picchu.
Posted by Bob Benz at 8:09 PM | Comments (0)
Perros de Peru
While I was traveling in Peru, I was astounded by the number of dogs I saw. Perhaps even more astounded by the fact that most of them were in pretty good shape, even the ones that obviously were strays. Peruvians apparently love their dogs, and that's just another reason to love Peruvians. Here are a few pictures I took of dogs I encountered during my travels, including the hairless dog of Peru in this photo, which was taken at the pre-Incan pyramid of Huaca Huallamarca in the San Isidro section of Lima. Apparently, this forlorn creature is Peru's national pooch.
Posted by Bob Benz at 6:50 PM | Comments (0)
May 9, 2007
Machu Picchu in HDR
Here's an HDR shot of Machu Picchu. Hernan and I hiked up into the hills, which left me panting and sweating. But it was worth it to get this view of the Incan ruins. Once I caught my breath, I took this shot and a few others from the same vantage. With more distance, it's easier to see how well the stone work melds into the surrounding landscape. This was taken at around sunset, right after a light rain had abated.
Posted by Bob Benz at 5:45 PM | Comments (2)
Sexy woman ...
Here's an HDR shot of the Incan ruins of Saqsaywaman (pronounced Sexy Woman). This is where Manco Inca almost defeated the Spaniards, but a last ditch attempt run allowed the Spaniards to break through the Incan lines. From there, they chased the Incans all the way to the jungle. I really love the way the HDR technique made the clouds pop in this photo.
Posted by Bob Benz at 5:40 PM | Comments (0)
Cusco viewed from Saqsaywaman
This HDR photo of the Incan ruins Saqsaywaman (pronounced Sexy Woman) was taken while I was in Peru. That's Cuzco sprawling out in the valley below. Saqsaywaman is Quechua for "satisfied falcon." The lights and darks in Peru's mountains completely lend themselves to HDR photography.
Posted by Bob Benz at 5:36 PM | Comments (0)
Salt of the earth
Nowhere is the line from Incans to modern Andeans more clear than here at the Salineras, vast salt mines near Tarabamba.
I have to admit, I was underwhelmed at the prospect of going to salt mines after drifting through the Moray circles and taking in the mountain vistas a little while ago.
But as I stand in the middle of the salt mines, I'm astounded by the scale of the operation. About 3,000 squares of various sizes are terraced into the valley, and each family gets a maximum of nine. The plots are passed from generation to generation, and people have beeing mining salt here since Incan times.
As we watch several people working their squares, much as their ancestors did years ago, I make a mental note not to question Hernan when he's laying out the day's itinerary ...
Posted by Bob Benz at 11:07 AM | Comments (0)
Buenas vistas
We arrive in Moray early, and the dividend we receive for our quick start to the day is an opportunity to wander the ruins in solitude, amazed by the circular Incan stonework that likely was some sort of agricultural test grounds. The views of the Urubamba and Vilcabamba mountain ranges in the distance are astounding, some of the most beautiful vistas I've seen send Machu Picchu.
As we arrive, a flock of caracara (vultures) hop around on the ground and soar in vast wings.
What an amazing way to start a day ...
Posted by Bob Benz at 11:02 AM | Comments (0)
Truckin'
"This is the best food I've ever had from the back of a truck," Wes told Tammy as we ate lunch in the shadow of a waterfall in the Urubamba River valley.
A perplexed look crossed Tammy's face until she realized Wes was offering the ultimate compliment. Then she broke into a wide smile.
Tammy is the owner of Cicciolina restaurant in Cuzco, and one of her specialties is cooking picnic lunches on site in various scenic spots throughout the Sacred Valley. She and two assistants arrive in a 4-wheel-drive truck, bringing all the fixings and a propane tank for cooking. They set up a tent. Ice down the wine. And lunch is served.
We had lunch this way two days in a row.
First, we dined near the waterfall. The food was incredible and included our second taste of cuy (guina pig), this time as part of a tuna salad that was strikingly different from anything I'd ever had.
The second day, Tammy, an Australian ex-pat who has lived in Peru for 10 years, was supposed to be serving barbecue. But Hernan knew Wes was hankering for a steak, and he managed to get the menu changed at the last minute. So while sheep grazed nearby, Wes and I dug into a couple of delicious grilled steaks. Tammy had to adjust for the altitude when cooking the steaks, noting that it would take 20 minutes to get Hernan's steak well done. Even then, it came out closer to medium. I could only imagine the adjustments baking must take at this altitude.
For the triple play, we dropped by Cicciolina for lunch while we were in Cuzco. And again, we marveled at how good the food was. I had scallops backed on the shells, lamb shank and a poached pear. Delicioso, even if there wasn't a roaring waterfall or scenic lake nearby as we dined ...
Posted by Bob Benz at 10:47 AM | Comments (0)
Portrait of the artist as a young scam
"I am the artist," Armando said, smiling broadly as we took a photo of him holding the works we had just bought. "See. This is my signature. Armando."
Armando had approached us the same way many vendors had, but he carried a portfolio complete with various artworks. All nice stuff, ranging from monochrome reflections on Cuzco to colorful celebrations of Andean culture.
The drawings were about U.S. $30 each, so Wes bought one and I bought two. Armando took our money. He even let us hold the entire portfolio while he ran off to get change. When he returned, we took his photo. And we were on our way.
About an hour later, another teen approached us with a portfolio near the Mercado Central. He proudly displayed his creations, urging us to take a look.
"I am the artist," he said. "See. It is signed 'Miguel.'"
Then Wes spotted an exact replica of one of the works Armando had shown us. But instead of the signature "Armando" in the lower right, this one had "Miquel" in the lower left.
That's when it hit us like a velvet Elvis that we'd been had, prompting us both to chuckle sheepishly. But I still like the prints I bought, even if I overpaid for them.
"The only difference," I told Wes, "is that now I'll buy cheaper frames for them."
The beauty of this was that it allowed us to call bullshit on subsequent scammers who approached with portfolios and original artworks. And approach us they did. The look on their face was hilarious as they realized we had figured out the game and weren't going to be fooled again.
Posted by Bob Benz at 10:34 AM | Comments (0)
A trip to the market
"Give me your camera," Hernan said as we approached the stone gate on Santa Clara. From there, the road continues up the hill away from the main plaze in Cuzco, toward the San Pedro Train Station.
I thought he wanted to take a photo of the gate, but he really wanted to tuck it into his backpack for safekeeping. The area around the market is rougher than the central plaza, where the police keep a vigilant eye on things.
The market was closed for its Sunday cleaning, but that didn't stop hundreds of vendors from setting up shop on the sidewalks and alleys that radiate out from the main building. The crush of people weaving through narrow walkways between stalls was truly claustrophobic, and at a few points I wanted to veer off in search of elbow room. It was easy to see how someone could do a grab-and-run and disappear into the throng. But while we navigated the crowd, I didn't see or hear anything that concerned me. Maybe Wes and I -- 600 pounds of unmitigated Gringo -- posed an intimidating enough presence to ward off any evil-doers who might be lurking nearby. We did get lots of looks, though, and children tended to dub us "los gigantes (the giants)" or, in less diplomatic terms, "los gordos (the fat guys)."
I spotted one stall that featured a bucket filled with 4-foot-tall cactus arms.
"Que es?" I asked Hernan.
"San Pedro cactus. It's hallucinogenic."
We stopped for a closer look, causing the crowd to bounce around us like water bounding off rocks blocking a stream. The woman running the stall instantly went into sales mode, speaking in Spanish about the cactus and then pulling out a box of roots that turned out to be ayahuasca, which local shamans also use in hallucinogenic religious rites. I was surprised to see it being sold so opening, but no one else seemed to think it unusual. I almost bought one of her good luck charms, but it was a small vial with some sort of liquid in it. I didn't want to find out at Customs that the liquid was a nefarious substance.
In the end, we ventured on, deciding Peru was enough of a trip without using psychedelic plants to enhance the experience.
Posted by Bob Benz at 10:18 AM | Comments (0)
Coming up for air
The altitude hit me really hard Saturday night in Cuzco. There were several times that I awoke gasping for air. It was similar to the feeling I get during an asthma attack, but my inhalers offered no relief.
Apparently, Hotel Monasterio will pump extra oxygen into your room for about $30/night, but by Sunday morning I had acclimated and wasn't having problems.
Posted by Bob Benz at 10:13 AM | Comments (0)
Taxing attire
The stereotypical, colorful Andean garb really isn't a relic of the Incan empire, according to Hernan. It was introduced by the Spanish after the conquest to identify various groups of people and regions for taxation purposes ...
Posted by Bob Benz at 10:11 AM | Comments (2)
May 8, 2007
Tossing chum in the water
Children selling shoeshines, finger puppets, postcards and cigarettes navigate the narrow streets of Cuzco like a pack of piranhas. Once they smell gringo dollars, they start a frenzied circling motion and spin up their pitch, which is well-rehearsed and fairly uniform.
"Want to buy a postcard?"
"No, gracias."
"Why not?"
"No es necessario."
"Where you from?"
"Los Estados Unidos."
"Ahhhh. The capital is Washington. The president is George Booosh. Before him was Clinton. Before him was another Booosh. Before him was Reagan. Before him was ..."
And on and on. Sometimes it's a chance to practice my Spanish. Others it's just annoying.
They are all orphans.
They all have five brothers and sisters.
They all make 10 nuevos soles per day (about 3 bucks). But today they have made nothing and want something to eat.
It tries my patience because after you've heard it once, it's so obviously a come-on. But I try to be gracious and humorous. I even learned that singing "no no no no no no no" in a descending scale as they persist with their pitch draws a smile and makes them realize the answer really is "no" and that "no," I won't want to buy that postcard "maybe later," either.
Posted by Bob Benz at 9:19 AM | Comments (1)
Hay agua
Its easy to marvel at the Incans skilled masonry, but one thing that really pops out at me is their command of water. They were brilliant at channeling it for agricultural and aesthetic purposes. Their fountains are marvelous. Its humbling to stand in front of the tingling waters and realize this sound has been reverberating through the nearby stone for hundreds of years. And its all by design. It would be hard not to incorporate rushing water into the architecture here. Cascading mountain springs are the Sacred Valleys soundtrack. The distant roar of water is always present, at Machu Picchu, in Urumbamba, in Cuzco. And the Incans echoed it as they built their cities.
Posted by Bob Benz at 9:07 AM | Comments (0)
On pottery and politics
Marilu Behar is describing pottery technique in a video at Seminario Ceramicas in Urubamba, and I am instantly smitten. She has a quietly direct yet impassioned demeanor and though I am reading the English subtitles in the video, I am listening closely to the cadence of her Spanish.
Im even more smitten an hour later when I find myself sitting in the courtyard in waning light, discussing art and contemporary Peruvian politics with her. Ive just purchased several beautiful works that were done under Pablo Seminarios direction here, and Im waiting for Wes to finish his purchases.
Marilu is keenly concerned about the rise of Hugo Chavez in Venezuela and fears his socialist ideology will ripple through the Americas. The Chavez-sanctioned candidate was defeated in the last election, but they might not be so fortunate when Peruvians vote for president again in a few years.
People here arent poor, Marilu says in flawless English. But the message of getting things for free is irresistible. I think about it for a moment. By U.S. standards, these folks are poor. But everyone appears to get plenty to eat and their lifestyle is more agricultural than poor. They work the fertile fields and live in humble adobe or cement homes. Even the countless dogs Ive seen during my travels here are, by and large, well-fed and content, not like some of the canine skeletons Ive seen limping along the roads in Jamaica. Im sure abject poverty does exist in Peru, but here in the Sacred Valley Im not seeing strong signs of it.
During the Shining Paths reign of terror, Marilu and her partner, Pablo Seminario, were threatened but nothing came of it. She has friends in Venezuela who are trying to flee Chavezs socialist government, but now they cant sell their homes and are trapped, though some apparently are migrating to Miami and other locations.
But Marilu is determined to remain in Peru, even though shes gravely concerned for what the future will bring. That Shining Paths ghost still haunts the nation, and a few recent acts of terrorism are raising concerns that the next presidential election could prove a watershed event.
Marilu concedes that the rise of tourism here has been a mixed blessing. The influx of foreign money is driving land prices up and making things difficult on many levels, but it also is raising the standard of living. A Chavez-inspired socialist regime likely would do much to quash this and return things to the bleak, uncertain times when fear of the Shining Path drove away foreign investment.
*******************
Seminario Ceramicas is an amazing studio run by Pablo and his partner, Marilu. Squawking macaws and amazon parrots skulk around a beautiful courtyard while a pack of German shepherds pads back and forth, trying to stay as close to Pablo as possible. Pablo and Marilus son leads us on a tour of the various studios, explaining the techniques used to create pots, plates and artworks along the way.
Afterward, when dusk has taken the courtyard, I peer into a round cage that houses a tiny monkey, possibly some sort of squirrel monkey. Hes at the bottom of the enclosure, snuggled up with two large rabbits who are his housemates. He opens his eyes briefly when he senses my presence, takes me in and nods off again.
Posted by Bob Benz at 8:29 AM | Comments (0)
Heads of the household
This, Hernan says proudly, is the room where I was born.
Well, not quite. He is one room off, as his aunt quickly informs him. But it is clear how proud he is of his origins.
Hernan has brought us to his aunts block-long home in Urubamba to show us where he came from and to give us a glimpse into daily life.
The house is a series of rooms that surround a large courtyard, big enough to embrace corn, animals, herbs, tomoatoes, patio and a German shepherd cross named Lobo. Since Hernans uncle died, theres been no one to maintain the gardens, and several of the rooms have been rented out. Hernan moved out when he was still a child. But his aunt still operates a small store in one corner of the house, complete with a pack of dogs who peer out through the wrought iron gate and yap at anyone who happens by.
We walk through musty room after musty room, my grandmothers house pops into my mind. Each closed-up room is a trove of old photos and memories, and I recall as a child wandering into the unused rooms at grandmas to explore the past much as Hernan is doing today.
The homes main entrance is a heavy wood door with an imposing padlock on it, and behind that is a second doorway that spills out into the courtyard. Above this second doorway perches a shelf where several skulls rest, along with offerings of fresh flowers, chicha corn beer and other votives. Hernans ancestors rest here, guarding the household against trouble.
Too bad Wes doesnt have this, Hernan says, implying that ancestral skulls might have protected Wes home from the break-in it suffered while hes been in Peru.
I flash on this for a moment, and its immediately clear folks in the U.S. would be completely creeped out at the prospect of having their ancestors skulls on a shelf in their homes. But the Peruvians attitude toward the deceased is similar to what Ive seen during my travels in Mexico, and in some ways its a healthier way to come to terms with mortality. Its omnipresent. Ever possible. Not something thats relegated to a cemetery and thought of only once a year when you arrive with flowers to remember the dead.
One day, my skull might be up there, Hernan says, pointing to the shelf with a smile that doesnt quite reveal if his statement is jest or a benign acceptance of the inevitable.
Posted by Bob Benz at 8:07 AM | Comments (0)
On cars and condors ...
During my time in Peru, Ive been amazed at how the natural world infused the Incans worldview. Machu Picchu looks like a condor when viewed from neighboring heights. The mountain near Picara is a crouching puma. And the Sacred Valley mirrors the heavens.
The Incans saw the familiar in the world around them, and they used their architecture to reflect those images back at nature.
I caught a glimpse of how strongly this impulse lives in the local people while walking near the Urubamba River with Hernan, a local woman and her two children. The woman pointed up at the cliffs in the distance and insisted she saw the shape of a car there. After squinting a bit toward the heights, I finally saw what she was talking about. This descendant of the Incans still looks for the familiar in the local geography, and if the similarities are more likely to take the shape of a diesel-breathing car than a soaring condor, so be it.
Posted by Bob Benz at 7:58 AM | Comments (0)
A taste of cuy
While in Peru, Wes and I wanted to sample the local delicacy called cuy, or guinea pig. Wed already seen them being raised in a local home. Now we wanted to get a taste of one.
Hernan took us to a small restaurant in Urubamba where we were presented with a plate of grilled cuy, complete with potatoes, stuffed peppers, cheese and corn on the cob. Three cops sat slurping soup at the table next to us, watching a midday newscast.
It took me a moment to get past the fact that the cooked critter on our plate still looks very much like a cuddly guinea pig, from its head to its curled up toes. But as I dig in, Im sold.
Wes is underwhelmed, though he doesnt dislike it. He compares the taste to rabbit or squirrel, though I havent eaten enough of either to say for sure. But one thing is certain. It doesnt taste like chicken. The meat is darker, some would call it greasy, and its slightly stringy. The cuy is stuffed with the herb huacatay, which infuses it with a very distinct flavor. Later, during a hike through the fields, Hernan picks up a spring of huacatay and shows it to me, its scent instantly reminding me of the grilled cuy.
Hernan says some people devour two or three cuy at one sitting, washing it down with chicha (a fermented corn drink), but were splitting one four ways. As we finish off the cuy, Aldo calls dibs on the brain. Apparently, thats the choice tidbit. Wes and I gladly relent.
Posted by Bob Benz at 7:42 AM | Comments (0)
Take me to the river
Hernan and I have just finished a rambling hike down out of the hills that rise up out of the Urubamba River valley, and were standing on the main road.
Want to go down to the river? Hernan asks.
Sure.
We cross the road, and Hernan asks a woman there about the easiest way to get down to the water. She points the way and begins walking with us, smiling broadly. As we turn onto a trail that runs past her adobe home, her 10-year-old son and 5-year-old daughter join us. Most of the discussion in in Spanish and directed at Hernan, but when she learns I speak un poquito de Spanish she makes an effort to include me as we walk single-file on a narrow path that runs through corn fields toward the Urubamba.
Pointing to a large rock perched precariously from the hills on the opposite bank, she tells us the tale of a woman thief who was hanged there years ago. Her gold earrings apparently were lost during the hanging, and theyre still up there. Somewhere.
The entire time, Im astonished at how open and welcoming this woman is to the giant Gringo and his Cusqueno guide. And the children are delightful, frolicking like puppies in the fields, taunting as pig we pass and giggling as a cow begins to bellow in the distance.
This land belongs to the womans mother and shes clearly proud of it. After we pause to admire the swift-flowing Urubamba, we walk back to the highway, where Wes and Aldo await in the van, ready to venture onward. Im not to surprised to find that Wes is surrounded by a group of children, and hes showing them how to make paper airplanes.
Before we depart, the woman who shepherded us through her fields to the river insists that I return soon, next time with my wife. The children smile and wave as we motor down the road, and I can only hope that I do return one day.
Posted by Bob Benz at 7:26 AM | Comments (0)
May 3, 2007
Machu Picchu
Upon arriving in Aguas Calientes Tuesday, Hernan and I grabbed a 3 oclock bus to Machu Picchu to see the ruins at sunset (Wes remained behind at the hotel, trying to fight off a nasty case of turista.).
A serpentine, dusty bus ride up countless switchbacks took us to the lost city.
All I can say is increible! Words really dont cut it. Clouds crowned the surrounding mountains while sparrows and swallows tittered excitedly in the waning day. And almost on cue, a soft mist began to fall, refracting the suns setting rays into a rainbow that arced from the twisting Rio Vilcanota to Wayna Picchu.
We stayed for about an hour and a half, just soaking in the view and trying to imagine what it must have been like when Machu Picchu was buzzing with life. The experience was especially intimate because there was almost no one there. Just a handful of tourists, llamas, a pair of chinchillas and the soaring birds.
After catching the sunset, we decided to return early Wednesday for the sunrise. Wes had recovered and joined us.
The trip up was more crowded, and it was more difficult to capture the sublime solitude of the night before, but it still was spectacular. The sun streamed in through the surrounding peaks, making Machu Picchus stone structures shimmer in the dawn.
We spent about five hours touring the site. The Incans mirrored the heavens and earth with their architecture. Hernans sage guidance gave us great insight into the various features at Machu Picchu, and he told us that even though it was more crowded than the previous night, it really wasnt that bad overall. That was tough to believe as we ate lunch, watching bus after bus grind to a dusty halt and disgorge 33 tourists, looking a little stunned after the twisting trip in.
Posted by Bob Benz at 1:09 PM | Comments (0)
Hernan y Aldo
Hernan, our guide, and Aldo, our driver, have spent more time with us than any pair of Peruvians should have to endure. Theyre great guys and have done much to make this trip phenomenal.
+++++++++++++++++++++
Hernan is a Cusqueno, and the Incan sites he is showing us were built by his ancestors. This land is something that speaks to his soul. As we walk through the lush, rambling cloud forrest at Machu Picchu Pueblo Hotel, Hernan stops at each plant, each orchid and says its name reverently, repeating it a time or two. He does this as he names various Incan features, too, and at first I assumed he is helping me learn the names. But eventually I come to believe its more akin to a sacred chant for him. Even growing up here, he still clearly is in awe of this place.
+++++++++++++++++++++
Aldo is the guy who gets us where were going. Hes about 15 years older than Hernan, about my age (44), and his English is limited. But after spending a few days on the road together, weve gotten to know him pretty well. In fact, his 10-year-old son looks a lot like me, and Aldo pulls out photos to prove it. Poor kid. Aldo is a very good driver, striking a smart balance between being cautiously aggressive and blind crazy.
The only time I was fearful on the roads was when we were returning from the Pisac site Monday night. Its autumn here, and dusk slides in quickly around 5 or 6 oclock. At the same time, the roads fill with people walking, pedalling and driving home from working in the fields, often without lights or reflectors. Im not sure how Aldo did it, but he steered us home safely, despite one near collision with a pair of stray cows who scampered into our path.
Posted by Bob Benz at 12:56 PM | Comments (0)
Palabras locas
Spending time with Hernan gives great insight into what a capricious bitch the English language is. His English is excellent. But still he gets tripped up by the languages lack of logic and consistency.
Miss and lose are particularly troubling. Hernan cant get his head around why its miss the bus and not lose the bus. I try to explain but eventually resort to It just is.
We also get amusement when he tries to translate a menu item and it comes out rolling chicken. I start stabbing the table with my fork, trying to spear the tumbling entree, which really is rolled chicken.
Hernan speaks English, Spanish and Quechua fluently, and my presence gives him a chance to learn new words and ask about meanings. It works both ways. My Spanish has always been piss-poor, but Ive been taking this opportunity to exercise it, sometimes with horrible results. Once the conversation drifts past three-word phrases in present tense, Im in trouble, as bartender Marcello found out when he tried to talk to me about futbol. When it was all said and done, I tipped him profusely, mostly out of guilt for the way I had just savaged his language.
A few other interesting linguistic gymnatics ...
-- Sing, you bastards. The phrase on the back of Hernans baseball cap, which he hadnt noticed when he purchased it at Cuzco second-hand store. Its a Rodney Carrington cap, and Hernan clearly had no idea who the U.S. comedian is. He just liked the color (blue) and the RC on the front.
-- El hogalito. Wess attempt to describe the young wild hogs he hunts in Texas.
-- Condor delicioso. We ate a lot of chicken during our trip, and Hernan took to referring to it as condor. After we returned to Lima, I extended the joke, telling our guide how much we enjoyed eating condor during our trip to the Sacred Valley. She looked perplexed, a little concerned. Then she assumed that maybe I was just mangling Spanish ... so she pushed. You mean you saw a condor? No, we ate them, I finally said of the endagered birds in English, and as a look of horror came over her face, I let her in on the joke.
Posted by Bob Benz at 12:43 PM | Comments (0)
Taking flight
(May 2) -- Im sitting here at the Inkaterra hotel in the Sacred Valley, watching a hummingbird molest a encarnada cantuta flower while I sip coca tea. This mornin we catch the train at Ollatantambo and ride to Aquas Calientes, where well be a 25-minute bus ride from Machu Picchu, the high point of the trip.
Tingling with anticipation and coca tea, Ive elevated Machu Picchu onto a sort of pedestal. I keep saying were going up to Machu Picchu, and each time Hernan dutifully reminds me that in fact, Machu Picchu is at a lower elevation than Cusco and Ollatantambo.
Posted by Bob Benz at 12:34 PM | Comments (0)
A sexy woman in the Sacred Valley
When our guide, Hernan, said we were going to see sexy woman, our driver, Aldo, smiled knowingly.
Imagine our disappointment when we realized our destination really was Saqsaywaman, which does indeed sound like sexy woman. Quechua names can be really tough to get your tongue around, so this helpful pronuniation guide was much appreciated. In Quechua, the name means satisfied falcon.
Saqsaywaman is where Manco Inca, the Incan king who started as the Spaniards puppet but went on to lead a full-blown rebellion, almost wiped out an army led by Francisco Pizarros brother, Juan. But the Spaniards prevailed against long odds, prompting an Incan retreat to Ollatantambo and ultimately deep into the jungle.
Theres a sprawling parade ground at Saqsaywaman, and Hernan says he and his friends used to camp and play futbol there when they were children. Its hard to imagine what it must be like to grow up in the stone embrace of these Incan ancestors.
Posted by Bob Benz at 12:26 PM | Comments (0)
A perfecto landing
Wes and I both were nursing pisco hangovers during our early morning flight from Lima to Cusco, but even the misery of being crammed into microscopic coach seats couldnt dim the beauty of seeing the snow-capped Andes peek through the clouds as we began our descent into Cusco.
Once we dropped beneath the clouds, we saw the airports runways stretched out in the valley, hemmed in by incredible peaks. After the pilot landed the plane, the cabin broke out in polite applause, as if a symphony had just concluded.
Posted by Bob Benz at 12:21 PM | Comments (0)
Honk if you love Lima
Several of the guide books I consulted were decidedly down on Lima. Big. Polluted. Noisy.
All true, but it definitely has its positives. The Miraflores and San Isidro sections are beautiful and very livable, and even the grittier areas have a certain charm. Of course, I like sprawling, honking, sweaty cities. And Lima fits the bill.
Drivers here are conquistadores of the carretera, and their bleating horns practically dare you to step in front of them. Its such a contrast to rural parts of Jamaica and Perus Sacred Valley, where the horn is more a conversational tool. Im passing you. Coming up behind you, heads-up. Step aside, wayward llama. Theres no real aggression there. Just information. Not so in Lima ...
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The city boasts several remarkable churches and pre-Incan ruins. Too much, really, to see in a single day. Im hoping to get another taste during our final day in Peru, which well spend in Lima. The Santuario de San Francisco stood out, with its creep catacombs where skulls and bones are arranged in odd homage to the 70,000-some souls who rest there. I also enjoyed our visits to Huaca Huallamarca and Huaca Pucllana, pre-Incan sites of spectacular adobe pyramids.
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Our exit from Lima gave us a glimpse of the citys true heart. As our cab raced through 4:30 a.m. streets, we came upon the San Miguel neighborhood. Taxis lined the streets while wobbly limeos spilled out of Tequila Discoteca and other clubs that could barely contain the music inside.
Posted by Bob Benz at 12:08 PM | Comments (0)
Dining with Diego
During our first day in Lima, Wes and I had lunch at Astrid y Gaston in the Miraflores neighborhood. Apparently owner Gaston Acurio is something of a man about town, Perus answer to Emeril.
This was my first taste of authentic cebiche (raw fish marinated with lime juice), and as I marveled at how good it was, I noticed one of the paintings nearby. It looked like something from Diego Riveras Cubist period, and damned if it wasnt signed Rivera.
Could it be?
I asked the waiter, who confirmed that it is indeed a Diego original.
Bon appetite!
Posted by Bob Benz at 12:00 PM | Comments (0)
Peru: The llama, the puma and the serpent
Were standin in the magnificent choir loft of Monasterio de San Francisco, and my guide, Olinda, is a bit frustrated with me. Shes trying to explain key features of the loft, but my eyes have drifted down toward the altar, where a priest is saying Mass in front of a packed house. Above them, at eye level with me, pigeons flap back and forth among the rafters. Below them, in the dank, claustrophobic catacombs, lie the bones of 70,000-some people.
It seems the perfect metaphor for the three themes that constantly recur during my trip to Peru -- the heavens, the earth and the underworld.
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In the Miraflores section of Lima, we walk the adobe pyramid of Huaca Pucllana. This pre-Incan structure dates back to about 400 A.D. While we admire the granduer of Perus past, several hundred well-dressed Peruvians celebrate a wedding at Restaurant Huaca Pucllana, the sound of their music and laughter reverberating off the ancient pyramid before them.
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Were making our way through the narrow streets of Ollatantambo in the Sacred Valley when a woman beckons us into her home to see guinea pigs, or cuy as theyre called in Spanish. Its part a ploy to get us to look at the weavings and other crafts she has for sale, but its also a chance to get a look inside one of the village homes. Several children scurry around, and the cuy, cuy, cuy of the guinea pigs fills the room. There must be three dozen of them darting around, destined for the dinner plate. Theyre a delicacy here in Peru (In fact, there is a Last Supper painting in the main cathedral in Cusco that features Christ getting ready to chow down on a baked guinea pig while a shifty Francisco Pizarro plays Judas in the lower left.).
But my attention quickly shifts from the cuying cuy to an altar that features a wide assortment of votives, including the skulls of two of the familys ancestors, presiding over the daily rituals of the living.
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At one Incan site after another, our guide, Hernan, points out repeated images of the heavens, the earth and the underworld as represented by the Andean condor, the puma and the serpent
In fact, Machu Picchus layout looks strikingly like a condor in flight when viewed from the nearby heights of Waynapicchu peak. And three stone steps -- the underworld, the earth and heaven -- is a leitmotif that appears at Incan site after Incan site.
Posted by Bob Benz at 11:34 AM | Comments (0)
April 20, 2007
Preventive medicine
I spent the past two days getting immunizations. Hepatitis A and B. Typhoid. Didn't need Yellow Fever. Already had tetanus. And yes, Mom confirmed, I did have chickenpox when I was a kid.
Traveling to Peru isn't easy. Especially when you do it on the spur of the moment.
One moment, Wes and I were drinking tequila at the Loon, my favorite Dallas dive bar, to celebrate the Yahoo! deal our newspapers were closing. When I woke up the next morning, I had a vague recollection of committing to go to Machu Picchu.
And that's what we're going to do. Sooner than later. Next Friday, we set off for Peru. Ten days of exploring Incan ruins and wandering the Andes. We're taking the easy way out, using a tour guide that a friend recommended. So far, it's been a great steer. They've lined everything up for us and given plenty of useful guidance on how to organize the trip. We've booked flights. Have an itinerary. And I'm feeling pretty bullet proof from a tropical disease perspective.
If you have any Machu Picchu recommendations, I'd love to hear them. Just send a note.
Posted by Bob Benz at 11:05 PM | Comments (1)
Jamaica scenes
Lara and I made our annual pilgrimage to Jamaica earlier this month. Lots of great Appleton rum, a little bit of dominoes and total relaxation. I can't even begin to describe how much I look forward to this trip each year. Jamaica never lets me down.
I've already shot a lot of photos there on past trips, so this time I shot mostly HDR stuff just to see how the tropical light would play in this format. Overall, the results were impressive, especially given the fact that I wasn't shooting with a tripod.
Fishermen in Treasure Beach use these boats to motor out into the Caribbean Sea in search of food. Hard to believe, but they often go 90 miles south of Jamaica in these tiny wood craft.
Of the other stuff I shot, I particularly like this shot of moss-covered rocks with a rainstorm in the distance and this one of flowers at Villa Hikaru, where Lara and I stay.
Here's a link to the entire set.
Posted by Bob Benz at 10:58 PM | Comments (2)
January 30, 2007
Silence of the slot machines ...
Few things are more eerie than trundling through a Las Vegas casino at 5 a.m. while a vacuum cleaner whines in the distance and every few hundred feet you pass some poor, solitary Midwesterner sitting at the slots, trying to coax a fortune from the blinking lights. What happened to all the shouting and jingling chaos that filled the place three hours ago?
(BTW: If you must play the slots, I've found The Munsters is your best bet. Between Marilyn and Grandpa, everything will be alright ...)
Posted by Bob Benz at 9:34 AM | Comments (0)
December 9, 2006
Ho ho ho
During a recent layover en route to Albuqueruqe, I'm sitting at the food court in the E concourse of the Atlanta airport, wolfing down a burger while a man in a suit plays Christmas carols on a piano amid throngs of somber business travelers and military men in fatigues. There's something horribly morose and sad about the scene, and all I can do is hope those soldiers are heading home and not overseas ...
Posted by Bob Benz at 7:36 PM | Comments (0)
November 17, 2006
The travel gods are angry ...
After several smooth trips, including notice that for the first time I've flown enough miles to earn frequent flier status on two airlines, Texas has proven my downfall.
After flying commercial into San Angelo for our meeting there, we took a chartered Net Jet to Abilene, which is usually an awesome way to fly (no security lines, plane leaves on your schedule, cool rectangular bottles of Fiji water). But strange winds blew into Texas the previous evening.
I'm fairly numb to turbulence and getting bounced around in the air so I didn't take much notice of it or get too freaked when our fearless beancounter started getting a bleached white look about her.
As we passed over a windmill farm somewhere between San Angelo and Abilene, I was amazed by how incredible it looked from 20,000 feet in the air, sprawling for miles across the West Texas emptiness.
I pulled out my camera to take a photo, and that's when I realized how bad the winds were. I couldn't hold the camera steady enough to click the shutter as the plane bounced around. It was hard just keeping the camera pointed out the window, and I gave up after several turbulent attempts.
After a landing that can only be described as jarring, we got off the plane. The gusts were blowing me around, almost knocking me off my feet at one point.
Our fearless beancounter clearly was ill, and the thought of flying in this again later in the day from Abilene to Wichita Falls had her rattled. After a little coaxing, we convinced her that it would be better to rent a car and drive it. Whatever doubt remained about the decision was blown away when we heard reports that 18 wheelers had been blown over in Wichita Falls.
But the beancounter's conditioned worsened as the Abilene meeting dragged on, and after it went longer than we'd planned, we decided to stay the night, get up early and drive to Wichita Falls the next morning. The fallen beancounter would fly straight home, skipping the drive and next meeting.
But the travel gods struck again, this time in a particularly hateful manner. We found out one of our execs in Wichita Falls had died the night before after a battle against cancer. Clearly this was no time for a budget meeting, so we changed plans again and pointed the honking big Dodge Durango SUV we'd rented toward Dallas, where we'd rebooked our flights to get out earlier. I was hoping to get to San Diego (my next stop) early, work out in the fitness center at the hotel, get room service and catch up on some work.
But it wasn't to be. This time, the plane had mechanical problems, forcing a three-hour delay while they tracked down a new plane. And when they finally loaded us on board, they realized the food carts wouldn't fit because this was a "differently configured" jet. So we delayed for another 30 minutes while they moved the food and drinks to new carts and loaded them on board.
And now ... now we're flying west toward San Diego, into an incredible sunset and orange wisps of cloud. Truly sublime. But I'm sitting here trying to enjoy the view and wondering what deus ex machina will emerge tomorrow to thwart my attempt to get home ... If only the next misadventure would blow me to the island of the lotus eaters.
Posted by Bob Benz at 9:00 AM | Comments (2)
October 29, 2006
Odds and sods
Random notes on London ...
-- I decided to go to the Courtauld Gallery. I liked Rick Steves' description of it in his London book, and it was only a few tube stops from St. Paul's. After starting in a gallery of medieval religious works and then moving through the Renaissance, I came to the more modern works. Van Goughs self-portrait, shortly after he hacked off his ear. A nice survey of Impressionists. And then a cool surprise. A small room with several works by Kandinsky, tracing his progression toward abstraction. This gallery definitely was a worthwhile stop.
-- Pub crawl: Sitting in the basement of the Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese, a pub that was rebuilt in 1667, I looked around the room, trying to imagine what the scene must have been like in the 17th century when it was packed with drunken Londoners. I know it's a clich, but you have to wonder what these walls would say if they could talk. I sipped my pint of bitter, pulled from a basement cask, and listened to the sounds of tourists around me. German. English. American. After my pint at the Cheese, I hopped over to the Black Friar to check out a more recent pub (circa 1900). Another pint of bitter and a steak and ale pie gave me time to take it all in. When I traveled in Wales, I was struck by how homey pubs where. They were extensions of living rooms into the public space. These London pubs showed that traditions roots run deep into English drinking history. The focus isnt on sitting around the bar as much as sitting in front of fires on couches and chairs, playing darts, etc.
-- I stumbled on Trafalgar Square when it was teeming with Muslims who had come out for Eid, the end of Ramadan. I was in time for the call to prayer. Fascinating, festive sight.
-- Toward the end of the day Saturday, I walked along the South Bank of the Thames, across from the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben. I sat on a bench while darkness crept in, wondering when the lights across the river would come on. At six, Big Ben chimed and everything lit up. It was a great way to end the day.
Posted by Bob Benz at 9:37 PM | Comments (1)
Cheers, mate
I guess Im a card-carrying Anglophile. I love England and relished the chance to retur