Letters to Michael: Guatemala

Dearest Michael I sit here in the emergency room at Centro Medico Hospital, Guatemala City and you are on your way to the intensive care unit.  The treatment room is empty.  I sit in a chair hugging your belongings to my chest.  There isn’t much, just a pair of pants, shirt, shoes, socks and digital watch.  They are contained within a plastic bag and yet, that’s all I have left of you right now.  I am stuck here by myself.  Our hotel room is forty-five minutes away and I don’t want to go there in a taxi by myself.  You normally make sure I am safe and now I have nowhere to go that doesn’t include leaving you.  All I can do is review what has just happened in the past several hours.  I keep looking around the room for evidence that this is just a joke and I am not really here waiting for you to get better.  Since when, after twenty years of taking care of me, is okay for you to leave me here to make decisions on my own?  I keep hoping that if I close my eyes really, really tight, when I open them again I will be back in our hotel room, with you lying beside me in bed. We might be enjoying some silly TV show or talking about the wonderful day we just had.  That was normally how our nights would go during the four months of traveling South and Central America.   Better yet, maybe we would both be fast asleep having gotten up at five thirty in the morning to catch a van to Lake Atitlan, Guatemala.  This tour was just the beginning of our excursions within Guatemala.  And even though we normally avoided getting up early, we were both looking forward to the adventure that we planned.  Instead of sleeping safely in our hotel room, I am in an empty ER reviewing the last six hours of the adrenalin packed portion of “Our Adventure.” 

What is burned into my brain is the picture of you standing outside the tour office waiting for our van, which was late, to arrive.  Intermittently you would find me nearby, give me a van status and then go back to waiting by the wall.  One minute you were asking me if I was finding anything to buy and the next minute, I see you with a funny look on your face, a tell-tale half smile, on the left side of your mouth, and you were staring out into space, or were your eyes just hoping to find me?  One second you were fine.  The next I am yelling, “My husband is having a stroke, call an ambulance, get me a chair.  And then I hear myself telling you, “Honey sit down you are having a stroke.”  You just looked up to me with disbelief in your eyes and sat down.

However, when I open my eyes in the ER I realize that no, I am not dreaming, this is a nightmare, and you are here somewhere in a foreign hospital with a cerebral hemorrhage.  The intern reviewed your CT scan with me while the nurses changed you into the requisite hospital attire, started an IV, and put you on a monitor.  You were still awake and shook your head yes when I asked, “Can you hear me?”  I had hoped for a good, old fashioned, tiny clot-type stroke, called a TIA that could be relieved by that wonderful clot busting medication I used to give patients when I worked at Santa Monica ER.  But we were not so lucky.  When I saw that “glowing” white spot confined to the one area of your left brain I said to myself, “It figures, give a guy the gift of gab and then take out his speech center, nice job!”  I see the size of your brain; contemplate the size of the bleed, which, at the moment, is about three centimeters, and think, “Pretty damn large!”  I couldn’t help but wonder, after worrying you through all the cardiac surgeries, had our luck just run out?   But the neurologist reassured me that you should be fine. There was no treatment other than reducing the swelling, lowering your blood pressure and waiting.  He said, “Your travels for now are over.  You will need to stay here about one week to get him stabilized.  Then you can get a first class ticket home and soon as possible, start physical therapy for his recovery.”  In a matter of seconds I thought, get a first class ticket?  You don’t know my husband.  Never!  Michael would never splurge that way. 

Our hotel was an hour away and I was in the middle of a major attack of inertia; scared to leave for fear you would need me, scared to go back to the hotel alone.  Since it was almost midnight, the nurses took pity on me and found me a bed in on call room to use for the night.  I was told that the intensive care unit had strict visiting hours and I could see you later in the morning.  But with a cot and a sink I could rest and still be somewhat close to you when you needed me.     However, rest never came.  All I could think about was those first several hours of terror when this whole craziness began to unfold.  

There we were at some remote Guatemalan lake and you were having a stroke.    All my nursing instincts kicked in usurping any wifely panic.  I was in control calling the shots and thinking “Is this really happening?”  You kept telling me, “I am fine.”  But I could see you weren’t.  When the ambulance arrived you even walked from the curb to the ambulance and got in just as the right side of your body began to weaken and give away.  I was angry that you were so damn stubborn that you had to do get into the ambulance all on your own.  I guess you were trying to prove to me, and everyone else, that you were fine and could handle this “little” problem just like you handled everything else.  We got oxygen on you right away and then there was the harrowing ride up the hill to the hospital that made me dizzy.   I was holding onto your head partially to steady you and so I would stay steady, trying unsuccessfully not to slide on the ambulance bench, from side to side.   

The little remote hospital ER was more like a clinic than a real hospital.  A blood stained blue cot mattress and bloody dressings decorating the floor, this is the type of hospital horror stories I’d heard stories about. Beware of hospitals in a foreign country.  Now, for us, this horror story was playing out in Technicolor.  They would have put you on that dirty mattress had I not yelled, “Don’t we get a sheet?”  With continued oxygen you seemed to get better.  You could talk a little and your right side regained its strength.  The silly left-sided smile relaxed and you were nearly normal again except for stumbling through your words.  Out of nowhere a representative from embassy arrived. He immediately jumped into make any necessary calls and discuss ways to get you transferred two and a half hours away to a private hospital in Guatemala City.   You kept saying as best as you could, “Go back, go on van, I fine, be fine, go hotel.”  At one point you even put your shoes on and stood up, as if to say, “See, I am fine and I don’t need to go to the hospital!”

As time ticked away, I realized that the golden hours of getting you treated, for what appeared to be a TIA, were coming to an end.  According to research, three hours is all we had and it was 1.5 hours from the beginning of your symptoms. With minutes rapidly ticking by I wondered how many precious brain cells were we losing? I couldn’t sit still, I needed action and you needed to be transferred right now.  Like an episode from Star Trek I thought, “Beam me up Scotty.”  Failing that, please give me wings to carry you to the hospital fast!   You recognized my anxiety and patted the space next to you on the dirty stretcher and said, “Sit.” So I did, feeling defeated and frustrated.  I’m screwed, he’s screwed, we are all screwed.  But those feelings lasted only a minute or so.  I needed to get you to a big hospital fast.  But just as I was suggesting we call for a helicopter, I looked outside and saw the rain began to fall and the fog rolling in.   We are definitely screwed I thought.  No way can we make it in time in an ambulance over winding mountain roads, through fog, and then stuck in big city, Friday night traffic.  But that is just what happened.  It was two and a half hours of hell and you reassuring me by saying, “I am fine” and once asking “How much longer?”

Upon our arrival you were alert but having trouble with your thoughts.  You went from saying, “I’m fine to wondering what was happening and saying “(this is) So strange.”  When we asked you to write your name you did so perfectly. You wrote MIKE and then just letters that had no meaning.  When we asked you to read back what you wrote you hesitated and then rattled off numbers as you pointed to the letters on the page.   I couldn’t help but think, “Wow this is interesting, doesn’t the brain work in mysterious ways.  Then I thought, when I get time I want to look that phenomenon up to see what part of the brain that is coming from.  But then realizing when you recover from this and can’t process, can’t write, can’t think straight, you will be so angry.  I thought of all our plans to rent Page’s condo.  You would swim in the pool, get back to playing golf, watch high school sports and I would shop for the new grandchild that was on the way.  How could any of that happen if your speech center was gone?   At one point the doctor took me aside and said, “This is the part I hate.  We need a money guarantee to treat your husband.”  I said, no problem here take all my credit cards and treat him!  But the clerk kept stating that they needed your passport for a guarantee.  Your passport was an hour away with everything else.  I had no cell phone, no computer, and no address book with family phone numbers.  Everything I needed was an hour away! 

Just when the hospital staff was deciding what to do to make sure the bills would be paid, you complained of slight pain in your head and closed your eyes.   For me it was just like a scene out of the Shirley McLain movie Terms of Endearment with me yelling for someone to help you!  When I asked honey does it hurt a lot?”  You just shook your head no.   Finally I cornered the intern and told him, “Stop asking for credit cards and passports, we have plenty of money just get in here now and treat my husband”  “NOW!”  I found myself yelling, I want an IV, Oxygen, monitors and let’s get him to CT or MRI now!”  “Someone take care of my husband now!”  His condition is changing!”  You could nod your head in response to my questions, but no longer opened your eyes, and stopped trying to talk to me. The wife in me just hoped you needed to rest and the nurse in me knew something devastating was happening.   I wondered how does someone recover if the speech center is gone?  How did this bleed happen anyway? The questions just wouldn’t stop.   And now, as I lay in silence on this narrow stretcher, with you somewhere far away from me, I keep thinking about the minute this stroke started and wondering, what, if anything, I could have done differently.  Get me a time machine; I want to go back to this morning.  There are things I need to change.

To start with I would change that I didn’t sit with you this morning.  Instead I climbed into the seat behind you in the van and put our back pack on the seat next to you, instead of putting me there.  I will never forget what you said, “Aren’t you going to sit with me?”  I expressed an interest in catching some sleep during the two hour trip to the lake and needed my own seat so I could stretching out,  “I just need a little more sleep, I’ll come sit with you in a while,” I rationalized.   I also figured you would want a bit more leg room for that metal left knee!  We have traveled like this before and I thought at the time that it was an odd request; we were close enough that I could reach out and touch you anytime.  It was just a five seat van, not some gigantic Greyhound bus!  Even as I write this I wonder if you had some premonition that your time was no longer indefinite. 

 It wasn’t long before the other passengers began to fill up the van and I moved to an aisle seat next to yours.  By then you had struck up a friendly conversation with some men, sitting in front of you, who split their time between living in Israel and Miami.  It wasn’t long before the conversation got around to politics and the crazy, current American political situation.  It was obvious by the tenor of the conversation that both parties were of the same mindset and you were in your glory talking about one of your favorite subjects-Obama and the conflicts within the Republican Party.   I remember thinking how nice it was for you to have someone, other than me, to share the latest political news. 

Our trip at Lake Atitlan began with enjoying an American breakfast with our guide in a tiny town beside the lake.  Then, along with just two other guests, we got aboard a small outboard motor boat and headed across the lake to visit three small cities that seemed to grow out of the rocky hillsides that surrounded the tranquil lake.  The visit to these different cities runs together in my memory now.  One was known for textiles, one for having wonderful artists, and the third for markets, long haired women, churches and a great restaurant to have our lunch.  You kept telling me to look at one little kid after another.  “Oh Cindy look, there’s another cutie” you’d say.  I couldn’t help but notice that you seemed more exhausted than normal. We had only walked a couple of feet when I stopped to go into to a shop to purchase a scarf for my daughter-in-law.  When I came out to ask you for money you were sitting on a stone ledge.   I thought this was odd but didn’t comment because you were in the middle of a conversation with the guide.  Then, a block later, I turned around to look for you.  I will always remember what I saw like it was yesterday.  You were just a few feet away, up the hill from me and you had stopped again. You looked unusually pale standing there catching your breath. This picture of you is still so vivid.  I wonder now why this particular picture of you is still imbedded in my brain.  Why not the healthy pictures of you that I fear are fading, the ones I need to hold onto? Why do those pictures disappear so quickly? 

Though you stopped a lot over the past two to three months, as we walked the streets of South America, you seemed unusually tired today,  I wondered, why is he so pale?  “Michael, are you okay” I asked?”  And typical of your usual responses to me was, “I am fine.  Doesn’t our guide know you need to stop more often to shop?”  This was code for “I need to rest more often.”   But it wasn’t long before you passed me as we slowly made our final decent down a steep hill and back to the boat. I said “Hey speedy!”  And you shot back something like, “Going downhill, piece of cake.”   I thought, okay he is fine.  He is going downhill faster than I am and chatting with our guide at the same time.  He must be fine.   You even kept looking back up to me and wondering why I was taking so long.  You would turn and say, Watch out for those wet rocks on the road they are slippery, don’t get run over by a tuk- tuk!”  I thought good, he is being his usual protective self.  So I put all my worry aside and began taking in the sights with my camera.  All the shops were so colorful.  And since I didn’t have much room in my suitcase for the beautiful tapestries, I figured that I had plenty of room in my camera to take the colorful sights home.   

At one point I noticed that it was three o’clock and the tour was nearly finished.  I rushed to take in just a few more sights and haggle with someone over a beautiful tapestry that might look great at the end of one of our beds.   You wrapped your arm around me and said, “What do you want to buy now?” Since you and the tour guide looked impatient, I stopped my negotiations and followed you both to the dock.   We just needed to get back across the lake and onto our waiting van for the two hour trip back to Antiqua where our beautiful hotel room and bed waited our return.  On the boat you grabbed a seat beside me as we endured the slow process of crossing the large lake, which had grown choppy with the afternoon wind.  You asked me questions about whether my dad liked musicals.  I thought it was an odd question but told you I had no memory of my dad ever liking musicals the way you did.  This triggered my mind to drift to other questions I should have asked my father who had been dead for fifteen years.  I remember thinking how hard it is to have someone close to you die and wished I could just give him a call and ask, “Michael wants to know if you like musicals.”  Crazy how long someone can be dead and yet you still miss them a lot.  I also caught myself thinking about how many people I’d lost in the past twenty some years. 

First of my family to go, besides elderly grandparents, was my sixty-eight year old mother who died of lung cancer in 1986.  Then, in a quick three month succession, I lost two friends and my cousin’s husband in the fall of 1987.   After a near ten year reprieve, my father died at age 81 in 1996.   In 1997, another good friend of mine died of ovarian cancer, a month after “my” ovarian cancer was detected.  Over the noise from the outboard, Michael asked me what I was thinking and I quickly changed the subject to the choppy water and the beauty surrounding us. It had started to rain just a little but the sun was still shining.   I looked around for a rainbow, but never found one.  Now, here I sit, in a tiny room near the emergency room, reflecting on the day, and I can't help but wonder, was I going to lose you too?? 

Fate: Set in Motion

As most of you already know by now, my Prince Charming died of a massive brain hemorrhage on April 15, 2012.  Page (my daughter) and I were there hanging onto him until the end.  We brought him home to Los Angeles, and on April 22, and along with 350-400 people, had a lovely ceremony to celebrate his life.  We had completed four months of our six month trip to South America and Central America.  We were in the home stretch so to speak.  All that was left was some excursions in Guatemala, a brief visit to Mexico City, and then several restful weeks in two beautiful places in Mexico, Huatulco and Buena Vista.   Michael was getting tired and looked forward to lazy days by a pool or swimming in the tranquil waters of the Sea of Cortez.    Because he looked forward to these last few weeks so much, when his prognosis did not look at all favorable I promised him I would take him along to the places he wanted to go. I was angry that he wouldn’t be going in the form I wanted him to go.  However, I figured he would be pleased that I didn’t stop our plans and just sit home and cry.    

 Two weeks ago today we were visiting lake Atitlan, Guatemala.  Michael told me it was one of his favorite tours of the trip and added, “This is one of the best days of my life.”  Little did we know significance of that statement.  During the preparation of the DVD for his celebration, I couldn’t help but notice how much he changed during the last month of his life.  Even though I saw him slow down and rest more than usual, I believe I ignored his overall decline in health.  I remember thinking that his annoying three week cough was possibly as sign that his congestive heart failure was getting worse.  But I just kept thinking, “Come on Michael stay well enough to get through to the end of this trip.” I remember noticing how much slower he walked and how he seemed to stop to rest and catch his breath more often.  Even though I wanted him to slow down, change plans, and return home, he refused.  It is amazing how many “what if’s” come to mind.  But the reality of the situation is just what it is…he had a stroke for which he couldn’t recover.  I can’t go back.  There are no time machines even though I wish there were.   He was just a ticking time bomb that started with his unhealthy diet, and ultimately, the bad luck of having an enlarged heart and heart disease. 

I am finally beginning to realize that the hours wasted on “what ifs” can tear you apart and it still doesn’t change a thing.   The doctors in Guatemala all reassured me that his fate was sealed with a history of atrial fibrillation, significantly enlarged heart, and coronary artery disease. Each diagnosis added to the complexity of his illness.  Yet, neither of us saw him as an ill person.  He loved life.  It was only recently that his decline in health was becoming so obvious.  “I haven’t been the same since that damn mitral valve surgery (January 2011) he would say.” 

I still remember when Michael had quadruple by-pass surgery six and half years ago.  I got to see his chest x-ray and remarked about his unusually enlarged heart to anyone who would listen.  While no one else seemed to comment much about the size of his heart, I remember thinking, “Yikes, this isn’t good!”  It was only a matter of time before the enlarged heart would begin to fail, and most likely led to the catastrophic events that ended his life.  While this isn’t what I wanted, Michael died the way most people say they would like to go, quick and painlessly.  He enjoyed his life until the very end and told me many time over the past few months that he had no regrets, “If I die tomorrow I have had a good life and I am not afraid to die.” 

We all said our last goodbyes to Michael last Sunday, April 22, 1012.  However, for those of us who loved him most, it is really difficult to say goodbye.  We will all miss his smile, his laughter, and his generous hugs.  I will miss his kindness and love.  He gave me hope in mankind.  After one failed, loveless marriage I didn’t think there was a man in the whole world who would show me the kind of friendship and love that he showed me.   I was lucky to have known him and it is hard to let him go.  As requested by many of you I am going to continue my blogs.  I have been waiting for inspiration and overlooking the obvious.  I have decided to title them “Letters to Michael” since he is with me on this final phase of our trip.  It is somewhat comforting to have him with me, going to the places he really wanted to go.

It’s Raining Molasses and Crabs

April 6, 2012

We have been in Playa Guiones for eight days of mostly relaxation that includes beach walks, ocean swims and plenty of pool time.  In the first few days it was brutally hot mid-day but cooled to just pleasant, mildly humid-warm at night and early morning.  Then a few days ago, the late afternoon sky turned black with dark, moist clouds that brought thunder and cleansing, heavy downpours.  The rain is a welcome change for those who live here and drive the dusty roads every day. The dust is so thick that it gets into your pores, lungs, and sinuses if you are not lucky enough to own a car.  But have a car, and it becomes encrusted with a thick, gritty film that obstructs your vision and chokes the engine with prolonged exposure.   Fortunately, with the rain, the dust settles back on the roads and the ruts turn into delicious smelling molasses puddles.   During the dry season many businesses pour a sugary, syrup-like mixture on the roads to control the dust.  When it rains, that syrup resurfaces and leaves you craving a molasses cookie.  

The charming red and black crabs return with the rain.  They make their homes in the ground and come back to life when the dry season is over.  It is fun watching them go about their business hunting for food, fighting over females and protecting their territory.  Last night I found one of the babies, no bigger than my index fingernail, hurrying across our bathroom floor.  At first I thought it was a big spider, but was relieved that it was “just a crab” and let it find its way out, hopefully the way it came in, under the space in our door.  At least I hope it found its way out!!  Perhaps I will get stopped at the border when they discover it has tried to smuggle itself out of the country inside one of our suitcases!

With the rain, Costa Rica seems to have come alive again.  Along with the crabs there are healthy looking green iguanas that strut around the pool and climb into trees to munch on tender new leaves.    These prehistoric looking creatures are such beautiful specimens, sporting armor that you would swear is just a costume designed creatively by some computer animation team in Hollywood.  They are so attractive that it is difficult to stop taking pictures of them. We have a porch outside our room with rocking chairs, where we can sit, relax and hear the sound of the waves in the distance and the tinkling bell like sound of the cicadas that play their music 24 hours a day.  The sky is alive with various birds traveling the treetops, putting on mating dances and building nests to prepare for spring.  In the morning, the howler monkeys make a noise that is similar to barking dogs as they stake out their territory and lay claim to a favorite mango tree loaded heavily with ripe fruit.  In the evening, there is an old bullfrog that chimes in and adds his bass notes to the music that permeates the warm night air. 

The sea seems to have an abundance of life too.  When I went for a morning swim yesterday, a wave of six inch fish washed over my head, and when the wave settled it seemed like the area around me was boiling with the movement of the large school as it passed by.  At that point I decided it was time to get out of the ocean because I didn’t want to encounter the larger fish that were no doubt “hunting” the group of little fish they had rounded up. We also have been enjoying the food from the sea. Many of the restaurants here are outdoors.  Some have just a thatched, palm style roof; others have beautiful, high pitched teak roofs, but generally all the sides are open to the air.  One night we had perfectly seasoned fried fish as we sat at a table with nothing but the sky and stars above us and the sea was just 200 feet away.  While we waited for our meal, surfers nearby caught the last wave as we all witnessed a purple-red sunset.  The ceviche here is fresh and delicious and so is the tuna Carpaccio that is sliced paper thin and tastes perfect on freshly toasted focaccia bread.  Just add a cold beer or crisp glass of white wine and you know you have found epicurean heaven!  We will savor these last few days of nature, good food and the companionship of my daughter and her friends.  Just one more big adventure awaits us in Guatemala.  Time to get organized again and learn what we can about the places we will see along the way.

STEPPING BACK IN TIME:  24 HOURS IN LIMA, PERU

March 29, 2012

It is true what Frommer’s travel guide tells you: “Be aware of the cab drivers, they can rip you off.”  In most of the cities we have traveled there is a kiosk selling taxi vouchers, but when we landed in Lima we didn’t see any, and it was close to midnight by the time we cleared immigration and customs.  We were eager to get to the hotel and go to bed, so the first official looking cab driver that approached us got our business.  He started to negotiate a price that we didn’t agree to, but we soon got him to come down $10.00.  He asked the name of our hotel, grabbed our suitcases and asked us to follow him to his large black van.  He had an official badge around his neck, so I figured we were in good hands.  He told us that it would take an hour to get to the hotel, and when we saw the traffic we decided that he was probably not exaggerating.  However, it seemed to me that he was going in the wrong direction.  Even though I’ve never been to Lima, I felt something was wrong.  At one point we went through a very poor and rundown part of town and I kept saying to myself, “Where are the bad guys, is he going to take us to some guys who could rob us?”  Later, Michael confessed he had the same feeling and was making plans to reach over the seat, grab him around the neck and threaten to break his neck if he didn’t take us to our hotel.  But that was never necessary.  Later, we felt lucky that nothing bad happened.  Unfortunately, after about 45 minutes of him weaving in and out of traffic, drifting across lane lines and a lot of honking from other motorists (he was a bad driver), we ended up at the wrong hotel, out in the suburban part of town.  I keep reminding myself, “Trust your instincts.”  Once we clarified this mistake and he got us to the correct hotel, we just felt grateful that nothing bad happened and realized he was a nice, albeit overly eager, guy just trying to make a living.  I realized that he was just so anxious to have passengers that he didn’t reconfirm where we were going.  Since he didn’t speak a lot of English, it was difficult to communicate with him.   But in my head I kept practicing something I could say to him should he get confrontational, “Es su Ciudad, no mi ciudad y no mi problema, es su problema!”  He had me worried when he just kept repeating, “That’s not the right hotel, you go downtown, that different place, that not this place, that in middle of city, why you go there and not here!”  As he was driving away from the wrong hotel, he just kept repeating this, putting on his brakes and hesitating as if he might pull over any minute and let us out.  He seemed angry.  So I kept practicing my rebuttal over and over…su problema, no mi problema” and praying he would take us to our destination.

We arrived at the Gran Bolivar Hotel about 20 minutes later, and it is grand indeed!  Built around 1926, this hotel is very large and still has furnishings dating back to that era. The hotel was compared to the Waldorf Astoria in NYC and The Biltmore hotel, which were both built around the same time.  As you will see from the pictures, it has not been updated since that time, either.  In the lobby is a Model T Ford dated 1920. In the entryway, there is a Tiffany glass domed ceiling that is just beautiful.  The beds and furniture are from that era.  Had they updated the bedding and bathrooms, it would be a fancier hotel that could compete with the more modern hotels like the Sheraton down the street.  Even at one in the morning, we could not imagine sleeping in the bed we were first offered.  The rooms were spacious, the ceilings easily 12-14 ft. tall, but the bed was harder than the beautiful inlaid parquet floor and only a double, which barely accommodates one of us, let alone a guy with a bad cough and a woman with long thighs and big butt!!  So after a bit of haggling, they gave us a room with two bedrooms and four beds for the same price.  This new configuration worked great-- the guy with the cough could be isolated!!

 The hotel had many interesting features, like an old fashioned bar-club room, grand salons for weddings and banquets, and a large outdoor second floor patio that would be perfect for high tea.  Another feature that wasn’t so welcome was found as we were getting ready to leave.  I took a picture of this hotel resident whose “nearly dead” body (bigger than my thumb) was moved for the picture.  This ancient occupant in our room went unnoticed until this morning, when I nearly stepped on him.  In hotels of this era, it should be expected to find these creatures, whose family likely roamed these halls in the 20’s and even in prehistoric times.

Downtown Lima is a grand city that retains the beauty of the 1920’s with many large, ornate buildings.  We were taken on a tour that we arranged through Viator.com and had a good time getting to see the area in just four hours.  Lima is so large that I could tell we just barely skimmed the surface of all it has to offer.  In the suburbs of Lima, there is a place called Miraflores, which has a beautiful coastline with parks perched on top of cliffs overlooking the water, similar to Santa Monica.  One park is dedicated to lovers and has a large statue of a reclining man and woman in an embrace.  There are long, Gaudi-like, mosaic tiled benches inscribed with stanzas from famous poetry.  Like many countries, millionaires have their homes near the beaches.   Unlike any country we have been to, there are ancient ruins reminiscent of pyramids called Huacas.  They date back to the Inca era 200 b.c.  Many Huacas have been unearthed and restored in the most exclusive residential and commercial areas of Lima.  It is fascinating to notice the juxtaposition of the ancient and the new as if the Incas still occupied the land surrounding these temples.  Even today, archeologists are continuing to discover artifacts that were used in ceremonies such as funerals and sacrifices to the Gods. 

In the downtown area, there are several grand squares and massive buildings.  The tour included an in- depth tour of two large churches that are now museums. Churches figure prominently in South America.  Historically significant, Church is where people congregate on Sundays and when the “Americas” were being colonized, they were the center of all the money and power.  One of these churches, the colonial era St. Francis, dates back to the 1700’s, surviving the devastating earthquake of 1746.  Today Convento y Museo de San Francisco, as it is formally called, is a functioning monastery even though a large portion is open for public viewing.  There seems to be constant restoration in progress.  In many areas, we could see the beginnings of beautiful old frescos being uncovered on the walls and near the ceilings.  Moorish-style tongue and groove pine ceilings and glazed ceramic tiles from Seville complete the decor. 

In the late 40’s, an entire network of 15^th century catacombs were discovered beneath the church.  Currently, the bones from the thousands of people buried there are on display in this extensive underground network of tunnels and rooms.  According to our guide, the bodies of the poor were buried in separate grave areas. Once decomposition was complete, the bones were then gathered into one common pit, piled one on top of another.  Wealthier patrons of the church were placed in crypts, where multiple generations could be buried together in a marked grave site.  Archeologists were allowed to unearth many of the graves, study the bones, and then put them back in the various grave sites.  All the bones seem to be mixed, with none representing parts of a whole person.  Femurs are lined up together; skulls are gathered in one area, and there’s an area for dozens of pelvic bones.  Once the scientists were finished studying the bones, they decided to arrange them in various designs that were to be “more pleasing to the eye.” I wasn’t allowed to take pictures, so you will just have to let your imagination run wild.  It was sobering to realize that all these bones represented the remains of thousands of people who lived several hundred years ago.  There are no relatives alive today to detail the kind of life these people led.  It also reminds me how precious life is, and how brief a period of time we have to enjoy the time we’ve been given. In comparison to the Galapagos animals, whose prehistoric ancestors can still be found roaming the Ecuadorian islands today, humans have occupied a very brief and often troubled place in history. 

Today we leave South America.  As our airline skirts the coastline, I can see the mighty Andes in the distance.  We will always have fond memories of the people we met and the places we visited in the land discovered by Vespucci.  We enjoyed the people we met and hope that many will keep in contact and visit us one day.  We loved sampling the food and wine and learning about various cultures along the way.  Quito and Cartagena stand out as the most culturally diverse, interesting and fun cities.  I thought with the three months we allotted, we would never have to return to this area again.  I was wrong!  I need to return to Peru and travel to Cusco and Machu Picchu, Lake Titicaca and the Sacred Valley.  Buenos Aires is a city so large that one could visit many times and still come away wanting to do and see more.  Argentina stands out as a country so immense and diverse that it is impossible to travel to all the places in one brief month.  It would be fun to go back and take more tango lessons, travel to the mountains and glaciers in the south, and drink more Mendoza wine.   I will always have fond memories of Maipu, Argentina, Francisco and his dog Souki, who charmed us with his manners and big brown eyes. We were grateful to Carli and Antonio, who took care of us while we visited Isla Margarita, Venezuela.  It was fun to meet new relatives in Bogota, Colombia and be escorted around that area by them.  We have met some wonderful people from Canada whom we hope to visit this summer, and many others whom we hope will visit us one day.  Had it not been for the people we met along the way, we would not have had as interesting and enriching experience as we had.

Do not be afraid to travel to Colombia, Argentina, Chile or anywhere else in South America.   We never had any issues with our safety.  All the various airlines we used were safe, comfortable, and served good food with free alcohol!  Airtreks.com issued all our tickets online, and they were always waiting for us at the ticket counter when we checked in.  The tickets were reasonably priced, and Airtreks was always available to help us make any changes along the way.  I recommend taking an I Pad or computer so that you can stay in touch with family and friends by e-mail and SKYPE.  Even though we say goodbye to South America today, our trip does not end in Peru.  In approximately ten days we will be in Guatemala, where more ancient civilizations are waiting to be discovered.  But first we are on our way back to Playa Guiones, where in one day I will get to know my unborn grandchild.  Tomorrow we will find out if we are having a boy or a girl.  And the life cycle continues!

Quito Revisited

March 27th

When we visited Old Town Quito with our Celebrity group, it was a sunny Saturday, and all the indigenous Ecuadorian women and men were out in full force selling adorable paintings and scarves at every place we stopped.  We have returned to the old town and find it just as charming.  Unfortunately, the street vendors are no longer here.  They added to the ambiance of the city I thought.   Perhaps it is a weekend event, or possibly, when the tour buses come to town so do the vendors.   We are staying for two nights in a very charming hotel with old world appeal.  La Casona de la Ronda, a beautifully restored mansion originating in the 1730’s, gets the award for the most interesting and comfortable hotel in South America.  This three story home, with a typical open central courtyard, originally having a fountain, that was removed or destroyed sometime over the past 300 years.  According to lore, the original owner was quite wealthy and didn’t work.  Perhaps it was family money that kept him solvent. He used the home as a place to welcome clergy who were traveling through town, or who were waiting for a church to hire them.  I was told that the city is in the process of restoring many of the historic buildings in this town.  The street, La Ronda, is famous for being the oldest street in the city and one of the few that has all the buildings fully restored. 

The new owners of La Casona de la Ronda worked 3-4 years to restore this place to its current beauty and charm.  I am writing this blog from the common area that is decorated like a living room with a small wood burning stove that warms the place nicely.  When I look up from my computer I have a view of the patio where there is a wall of plants that goes up at least thirty feet.  It is filled with healthy hydroponically grown plants.  They also get the award for best breakfast, with warm croissants, eggs made to order, delicious frothy blackberry juice, and hot tea.  Everything, as you can see by the pictures, is just charming.  There is even a fourth floor, accessed by a winding staircase, that has an enclosed patio that overlooks the city, and the angel on the hill looks down on the hotel, offering a sense of protection, probably from the next volcano eruption.  There are large boulders jutting out of a wall or two that add to the decorative interest.  It is surmised by the current owner that these large rocks must have ended up here after the last earthquake.  

Old Town Quito, in spite of warnings to the contrary, is quite safe and friendly.  With all the stories we were told or read, you would half expect pickpockets and knife wielding bad guys around every corner and lurking behind all the grand columns in the center of town.  When we traveled with the Celebrity group, none of us were allowed to wander far from the group.  There was even a guard posted to keep watch over us.  In the two days Michael and I have wandered these streets alone, all we have encountered are beautiful people going about their business.  There are loads of parents picking up darling, uniform- clad children from school, Indian women, with babies strapped on their backs, selling apples and fruit, and many local people just shopping and going about their daily activities.  I think it is a shame that people from North America are fed such propaganda about the various places we have visited.  So far, we have found all the cities to be safe and welcoming.  We didn’t like Venezuela because it is a country that is in disrepair.  It is difficult to find anything charming about the places we went during our travels in Venezuela.  However, all the people we met, from cab drivers to our new friends on Isla Margarita, were very nice and did what they could to make our stay a positive experience.   I know that there are pickpockets out there just waiting to score (what town doesn’t have them?), but none of them have tried to score on us.  Perhaps we have been lucky, or perhaps we have just been careful and tried to appear confident in our movement on the city streets.  We don’t dress flashy or wear anything anyone would want to steal.  I left all my jewels (the one or two I own) at home, and my camera is never hanging around my neck to tempt anyone.  Even so, this is a city of people who appear to be just going about their lives, shopping for dinner, having lunch, planning a birthday party and buying a festive cake. 

Today we visited a museum where they have pre-Colombian art and relics on display.  Much of it is dated 1200 bc.  The museum is a beautifully restored two story home that also has a center courtyard.  We spent about two hours viewing the approximately 500 pieces of pottery and art that they have displayed in various rooms of the home.  We were forced to prolong our visit because, just as we were getting ready to leave, the skies opened up and it poured!  There was even pea sized hail that covered the courtyard, which soon flooded with water from the downpour.  Apparently this is typical weather in Quito.  It is sunny and warm in the morning and cool and rainy in the afternoon.  We didn’t care, as this gave us an excuse to linger longer in the museum shop and chat with the young saleswoman who had a very good command of English.  Michael loved asking her questions about how to improve his Spanish, and in exchange he helped her with some English words.  Then, upon her suggestion, we went to a restaurant that serves typical Ecuadorian food.   There was only one set menu for lunch.  No written menu, food was just brought to our table.  The place had no more than eight tables and a large flat screened TV.   The food was great and what a bargain!  The first course was a thick, hearty bean and potato soup.  Next we got a plate of red beans and rice, served with a thin cut of steak that was tasty but a bit chewy and delicious sweet fried plantain.  They gave us a sweet tomato juice that is an orange color made from a tree tomato, which is considered a fruit here.   Then we were served a tiny pastry.  I asked for hot tea to take off the chill and dampness of the day.  Our total bill came to $5.50.  Yes, $5.50 for both meals!  Come to Quito, where there are no bad guys that we could find, eat hearty local food, and stay in a restored historic hotel.   You will enjoy walking the safe colonial streets and meeting people in a place that oozes charm.

Quito and Galapagos National Park, Ecuador

We have been incognito since March 16^th when we landed in Quito, Ecuador, and the Celebrity Cruise Company took over our lives.  It was to be a welcome relief from all the pre-planning, getting lost, and constant packing and unpacking that has been our life since December 19^th when we first embarked on our six month adventure.  But in some ways, structure invaded our normal lazy, solitary routine and we were back to following schedules, getting up early, standing in lines, and trying not to miss one minute of any bird or beast the National Park had to offer!  Celebrity took good care of the 100 of us who volunteered for this expedition.  From the minute we all gathered for our first excursion until the tour ended 10 days later, they made sure we were well fed, got plenty to drink and saw most of the places and animals you see in National Geographic magazines or television specials.  They gave us an itinerary that would please even the most discerning traveler.  Our excursion began touring Quito.

Quito is an interesting city that is 9200 feet above sea level and surrounded by several mountains that still exhibit a variety of volcanic activity.  Quito’s main economic vitality comes from the tourists stopping here as they head west to the Galapagos or southeast to the treasures of Peru.  There is the new city and the old city.  We stayed in the new section for three nights at the Marriott.  Nearby, we were told, are wealthy Ecuadorians living in fancy homes or high rises.  Unlike many of the one to two story homes or buildings that climb up the hillsides, there are a few new hotels and high-rise buildings that have been built in the past five to ten years.  Then, on the opposite side of town, through LA like traffic and down narrow streets, there is the charming old city, built into the sides of a bowl shaped area that rises precipitously on all sides.  Old town is full of history that mostly involves multiple (very impressive) large, old churches that are beautiful beyond description, with gold leaf, towering spires and ceilings, and hand painted frescos.   Wikipedia would give you a much better outline of this old part of town than I can. But a few words like charming, crowded, and pretty all come to mind.  Add to that, several indigenous people wearing traditional clothing, some carrying babies tied in cloth slings strapped on their backs, many making a living selling scarves and paintings to tourists.   Now that we have returned, we will be staying in the old city for two days so that we can study it more in depth and rest from our Galapagos exploration. 

The Galapagos Islands are a group of several protected impressive islands, some tiny and one in particular, Isabella, that is 62 miles long.  These islands are a two hour flight west of Quito, and this is where our adventure began.  Apparently February and March are the hottest, wettest months in the Galapagos National Park. We chose this time to go because I had read that the water is warmest this time of the year, and I don’t swim in cold water!   We did not have a drop of rain, but experienced a lot of humidity, heat and fairly warm 68-75 degree water!  We never got exact weather reports.  I think they were afraid to tell us the temperature for fear we would all skip some of the afternoon excursions.  Some of us would laugh sarcastically at some of the descriptions that were posted.  One walk was described as a 1.5 mile hot walk on uneven ground over lava. We were told to wear good shoes, protective clothing from the sun and bring water.  Because I got sick at one point, I skipped the excursions that didn’t include animals.

It was very hot and humid much of the time, so taking the hikes was difficult for many of us. While we would get an overview of the excursions, the guides never told us to dress for the bugs!  On one hot afternoon hike there were tons of swarming gnats that surrounded our fresh, sweaty flesh as soon as we exited the zodiac!  Fortunately, the gnats didn’t bite, but they were annoying!  On some of the beaches, we were forced to put on wetsuits just to avoid the gigantic, biting flies.  However, even with all the bugs and heat, we all kept signing up for the darn excursions (which were included in the price of the cruise) because none of us wanted to be left out, miss a bird, fish or beast sighting.   Everyone, it seems, was there to capture every moment on film no matter how hot or buggy.   One guy brought a tripod and carried it everywhere.  Others had cameras with lenses so long they were a danger to others and the animals that we came to see.  We were told not to touch or get within six feet of any of the land or sea creatures at any time.  Only one or two ignored this warning. 

Most of the time long camera lenses were a waste of time as the animals were often found in our path or only a few feet away.  The animals didn’t seem to mind that they were the center of attention and went about their daily activities nearly oblivious to the visitors invading their space.  We saw more sea lions than anyone could count, and yet they never ceased to be entertaining and capture our hearts and the lens of everyone’s camera.  We even had the opportunity to swim with them on one occasion when one willing female wanted to play with us in the water.  She would swim up, look at you, and then immediately take off in various directions and quickly vanish from sight, only to resurface again and scare you with her surprise return.  At one point, Michael’s snorkel became detached from his mask and fell off.  Within seconds, the sea lion grabbed the snorkel in its mouth and swam away with it.  Unfortunately, I didn’t catch that funny moment on camera, but many of us saw it, and it became the highlight of the day.   That day we also saw very large sea turtles, colorful fish and swam in and around sharks that were at least six feet long but seemed very content to let us share the ocean with them. 

The water in the Galapagos is just stunningly beautiful in a variety of shades of aqua and dark blue.  It is so clear that you can see the bottom in places, and it is healthy with tropical and sport fish, turtles, dolphins, many species of sharks, and playful sea lions that like to follow the zodiac boats.  We saw land and sea iguanas, cute little tuxedo- wearing penguins that also swam with us, and blue footed boobies that put on a mating dance show, and also pelicans and frigate birds.  If it weren’t for the bugs and heat, you could watch them and be amused for hours.

This trip was more of an expedition than a leisure cruise.  We were up early, off in a zodiac shortly after breakfast, and only returned back to the ship for meals and brief rests and frequent showers.  We would go from wetsuits and snorkels to hiking shoes and clothing and back to wet suits before the end of the day.  A few of us suffered a 24-48 hour stomach illness, but not many of us missed any of the excursions no matter how difficult or hot they made them seem.  I even got out of my sick bed to do the deep water snorkel. It was not something I felt I could miss even though I was too sick to eat or interact with humans.  The food was good, but not unusually fantastic like some cruises we have taken.  Our cabin was spacious, and the shower area was larger than most ships, which was good because with all the activities we did, most of us were showering no less than two to three times a day. 

Our guides were informative and very protective of the environment and the animals. However, I think many of us would have liked more information, more nature talks, and more slide shows.  We had a lot of fun and met some fantastic passengers who traveled from distant countries like England, Australia, Scotland, and Canada.  We truly enjoyed getting to know many of these wonderful people, and hope that one day, some who became friends will visit us and keep in touch.  However, for most of us it will be the animals that charmed us and will remain in our hearts and share wall space in our homes.  After a couple days rest we will be off to Lima, Peru, where we have a city tour booked.  We have cut our time short in Peru because the altitude in Cuzco and Machu Picchu are not possible for Michael.  Instead, we will extend our stay in Costa Rica where my daughter is incubating my first grandchild!

Following Pablo Neruda:  Chilean Poet--Loved Rummage Sales!

March 11, 2012

After our near disaster traveling to the South of Chile, we are warm and cozy, sitting by a fire burning in a large stone fireplace at the Inn La Candela, Isla Negra, Chile.  This is a lovely rustic place on the coast about two hours south of Valparaiso.  Leaving Pirque and Casa Calma Rita was nearly as difficult as getting there.  We got lucky after many wrong turns and just happened to be behind a guy in a truck (also lost) asking for directions.  We tailgated the truck all the way down a dusty road, turned around when he did, and got onto the highway only because he must have spoken the language.  Had we not followed this guy, whom we only guessed was headed for the highway, we would still be looking for the road.  Imagine a major highway so hidden that even the locals couldn’t find it.  When the truck turned onto this narrow one lane “alley” that went between two homes that looked like it led to a private driveway, we were scared but followed anyway.  For a few seconds we thought we were following him to someone's home.  My only advice when traveling in rural Chile-- take a guide!!

Being here on the coast, with tall pines, cool ocean air and the sound of the sea nearby, is heaven!!  The color of the water is breathtakingly beautiful and difficult to describe.  Greens, blues and foamy white mixtures that not even a photo can honestly capture.   And without really trying, we find ourselves following the poet, Pablo Neruda.  Even though he died of prostate cancer in 1973, we keep bumping into him wherever we go.  Our first encounter came when we visited his home in Valparaiso.  We were told, “If you don’t visit this 1971 Nobel laureate’s home, you haven’t seen Valpo!”   Then, at the inn Vendimia, our hostess suggested we stay at our current residence, La Candela.  Carla told us that “Isla Negra is muy, muy linda.” As it turns out, she was correct.   And it is so beautiful that Pablo Neruda decided to live here when he discovered it in the 1930’s, acquiring the property next door to La Candela.   This is where we had our second encounter with the poet.  It is in this home, originally just a small, stone cabin, where you feel his presence the most.  Pablo was an avid collector who loved searching throughout the world for things to add to his collections.  As his collections of things grew, so did his home.   Each wing was designed and built by him to capture the view of the ocean, which seems to reflect blue tones into every corner of the home. 

Pablo Neruda was a child at heart, we have been told, not once but twice.  Our third encounter with Pablo came as we entered La Candela.   Photographs of him are everywhere.  Our current innkeeper-owner of the hotel, Charo Cofre, was a close friend of the poet and his wife.  Our hostess told us that her husband was a television producer and filmmaker who was commissioned to film all of the stories of Neruda’s life. They traveled with them for years and became very close friends, and eventually neighbors.  Charo told me, “If he wanted something for his collection, he begged for it, offered a lot of money for it, and if he still could not acquire it, he waited, sometimes for years for that particular item to be available.”  As a Chilean diplomat, Pablo was known to frequent antique stores all over the world. 

As you might imagine, everything pertaining to the sea is on display at this home.  Neruda collected at least twenty mastheads-- gigantic ones that are made out of beautifully carved wood.  He loved colored glass and insisted that water and wine tasted best in them.  He had dozens of hats from around the world, and along with bits of clothing he collected, would have theme dinner parties where he invited the guests to dress accordingly.  I could relate immediately!  Though the rooms in the home are small, all his collections are placed in such a way that they fit beautifully as if they belonged and were made to fit into the space.  Pablo also had a butterfly and bug collection that Darwin would have been proud to own.  He also collected shells from beaches all over the world.  A whole wing of the house is dedicated to this collection.   Down one hall he had probably fifty ships in bottles on display, the light of the ocean reflecting through them.  Without all of his collections, the house would have been just a nice beach house, but with them, the home is definitely museum quality.   

Our hostess, Charo Cofre, is multitalented, too.  She is both a chef at the inn, artist, and well-known Chilean folk singer.  We had dinner here tonight, and I will say it was the best ceviche, warm spicy shrimp and fried fish I have tasted thus far.   The inn feels like it might have been a place that once accommodated large groups like boy scouts or brownies.  Perhaps groups came for fishing expeditions.  Maybe it was a haven for honeymooners.  There are long hallways, tall ceilings, and several large multipurpose rooms that seem to go on forever.  While I sat by the fire with a glass of wine, I could swear I heard the echo of voices and laughter of those who might have sat by this fire in the 1950’s.  Perhaps they drank a bit too much, knowing the children were happy and safe playing cards or board games in another room.   It has such a camp- like feel that I can imagine being awakened early tomorrow to a horn blowing revelie and join a group of kids lined up to have breakfast, wiping sleep from their eyes.  

Tonight, as we sat looking at the ocean from our table in the rustic restaurant where we were the only patrons, we had our fourth encounter with the poet.   Our waiter, Ramon, told us that he worked at the inn for fifty years and served Pablo Neruda, who often sat at this very table because it had the best view.   I believe that this is a good omen.  Maybe from this point on, we will no longer get lost.  We have many weeks yet to travel and many places to visit, but I feel certain the hardest part is behind us.   Tomorrow we will be back in Valparaiso, which so charmed us and stole our hearts that we decided to stay there again for two more days.