01-10-2019, 11:37 AM
Caveat. There are few and not very good photos for a number of reasons. Sometimes we didn't want to be saddled with the camera, sometimes it was fogged and wouldn't work properly, and sometimes we just took terrible shots. Links to photos show as blue text, I think. Click to see them.
2018/12/24-25
The early part of the trip is largely uneventful. There is an emergency the day before departure (Xmas eve), when we discover a package on our stoop. It's from LC's oldest brother, chocolate-covered strawberries in a refrigerated container. There are two big boxes of them. They can't be frozen and only last a few days. Despite cleaning up our diets in readiness for the trip, we manage to consume one whole box, and leave the other for the cat sitter.
The 5 am Uber ride to SFO on Xmas morning is like the zombie apocalypse. US 101 is all but deserted. From SFO we fly straight to Lima, which is longer than you think, because even though SFO and Lima are on the west coasts of North and South America respectively, Lima aligns vertically with Florida. So we're essentially flying across the US as well as flying far southward.
At Lima, we're confused about how to proceed after customs. We get in another line, but a guard waves us forward and has us walk through. We don't know what we were supposed to do. We have a layover of 9 hours, which we spend in the airport. Lots of people have long layovers. Last time we were here, there were a few benches and chairs, but none this time. Travelers are sprawled on the floor with their bags all along walls where it doesn't impinge on shops or shop displays or fire extinguisher boxes or doors, etc. There's competition for spots, and we're regularly being ushered to move elsewhere as cleaning crews come through to mop area after area.
2018/12/26
It's a very long uncomfortable night on linoleum floors with bright fluorescents overhead, and we barely nap. In the morning, we eat something from China Wok in the food court, greasy and salty, but satisfying on an empty stomach. As our flight time approaches, we check through into a very crowded gate section where the restrooms are crowded and stalls all clogged and closed for cleaning.
We board our flight and fly eastward over increasingly jungly terrain and eventually land in Puerto Maldonaldo (gateway to the southern Amazon). There we wait for our bag in baggage claim, but it never appears. After lots of failed attempts at communicating our problem, we learn our bag is still in Lima, and we were supposed to have retrieved it there and re-checked it as part of the customs process. No solution is offered us. We have no choice but to proceed without all the stuff we packed for this jungle adventure.
Outside, a 3-wheeled mototaxi pulls up and we're about to get in when a man runs up shouting, "Taxi?" grabs something from LC and leads us to his car. He makes some contemptuous remark about riding in a mototaxi. Still, when the mototaxi driver gets another customer as we drive off, our driver shouts a congrats to him.
Puerto Maldonado has only a few traffic lights; most intersections are negotiated in a game of chicken. Cheap motorbikes predominate, with a fair number of mototaxis as well (most of Chinese make, as LC notes), and only a few cars, pickups, or minibuses. All share the road with little room to spare, with lots of tight passing and beeps of the horn. We finally get to our hotel where our group will be staying. We're a day early, so no one is there yet, but our reservation is honored and we get our room, all without benefit of English.
Access to all the rooms is via bizarre atrium. There is no hot water, but the showers aren't that cold. There is an overhead fan that we run full-blast throughout our stay.
LC communicates our luggage problem to our expedition leader, Mohsin, who tells her that JJ will be stopping by to get more info on the situation. I'm surprised, because JJ is like a god, he shouldn't be bothered with our problem. But this is part of his job, and he shows up with his adorable son Tristan. LC explains our problem in greater detail, and he proceeds to trade texts with three different people all at once. Finally they hit on a plan -- to have a member of the group coming through Lima tomorrow bring the bag with him.
2018/12/27
The next day JJ drives us to the airport. The plane hasn't arrived yet, so we immediately exit, and JJ conducts some business with locals. Then back to the airport, but no plane, so we exit and hit a tiny café. Finally we go to the airport and the plane is there. As it stands, the person couldn't bring our bag, but the airline agreed to load it, and only we can touch it, which works out. A minibus also picks up the other people in our group, and we all go back to settle into our hotel. Later in the day Mohsin and JJ walk us to a restaurant where we eat a big meal while receiving orientation. It's difficult to focus on their talk, as there's a big-screen TV on the wall behind them playing some Peruvian version of Naked and Afraid.
As for our group, there are eight of us: Swedes Olaf and Magnus (late 40s), who are herps (snakers); Ian and Mina (20 and 18 respectively), world-travelers and also herps; Sarad (30ish, Indian), who spends lots of time in the tropics; Stewart (late 30s), a big guy who seems to be doing this just to check off the rainforest on his to-do list; Paula (late-50's, once a world-class triathlon athlete, still highly competitive in her age group); and LC and me, doing research for stories and other things. And yes, I'm also interested in snakes. The group is overloaded with herps.
2018/12/24-25
The early part of the trip is largely uneventful. There is an emergency the day before departure (Xmas eve), when we discover a package on our stoop. It's from LC's oldest brother, chocolate-covered strawberries in a refrigerated container. There are two big boxes of them. They can't be frozen and only last a few days. Despite cleaning up our diets in readiness for the trip, we manage to consume one whole box, and leave the other for the cat sitter.
The 5 am Uber ride to SFO on Xmas morning is like the zombie apocalypse. US 101 is all but deserted. From SFO we fly straight to Lima, which is longer than you think, because even though SFO and Lima are on the west coasts of North and South America respectively, Lima aligns vertically with Florida. So we're essentially flying across the US as well as flying far southward.
At Lima, we're confused about how to proceed after customs. We get in another line, but a guard waves us forward and has us walk through. We don't know what we were supposed to do. We have a layover of 9 hours, which we spend in the airport. Lots of people have long layovers. Last time we were here, there were a few benches and chairs, but none this time. Travelers are sprawled on the floor with their bags all along walls where it doesn't impinge on shops or shop displays or fire extinguisher boxes or doors, etc. There's competition for spots, and we're regularly being ushered to move elsewhere as cleaning crews come through to mop area after area.
2018/12/26
It's a very long uncomfortable night on linoleum floors with bright fluorescents overhead, and we barely nap. In the morning, we eat something from China Wok in the food court, greasy and salty, but satisfying on an empty stomach. As our flight time approaches, we check through into a very crowded gate section where the restrooms are crowded and stalls all clogged and closed for cleaning.
We board our flight and fly eastward over increasingly jungly terrain and eventually land in Puerto Maldonaldo (gateway to the southern Amazon). There we wait for our bag in baggage claim, but it never appears. After lots of failed attempts at communicating our problem, we learn our bag is still in Lima, and we were supposed to have retrieved it there and re-checked it as part of the customs process. No solution is offered us. We have no choice but to proceed without all the stuff we packed for this jungle adventure.
Outside, a 3-wheeled mototaxi pulls up and we're about to get in when a man runs up shouting, "Taxi?" grabs something from LC and leads us to his car. He makes some contemptuous remark about riding in a mototaxi. Still, when the mototaxi driver gets another customer as we drive off, our driver shouts a congrats to him.
Puerto Maldonado has only a few traffic lights; most intersections are negotiated in a game of chicken. Cheap motorbikes predominate, with a fair number of mototaxis as well (most of Chinese make, as LC notes), and only a few cars, pickups, or minibuses. All share the road with little room to spare, with lots of tight passing and beeps of the horn. We finally get to our hotel where our group will be staying. We're a day early, so no one is there yet, but our reservation is honored and we get our room, all without benefit of English.
Access to all the rooms is via bizarre atrium. There is no hot water, but the showers aren't that cold. There is an overhead fan that we run full-blast throughout our stay.
LC communicates our luggage problem to our expedition leader, Mohsin, who tells her that JJ will be stopping by to get more info on the situation. I'm surprised, because JJ is like a god, he shouldn't be bothered with our problem. But this is part of his job, and he shows up with his adorable son Tristan. LC explains our problem in greater detail, and he proceeds to trade texts with three different people all at once. Finally they hit on a plan -- to have a member of the group coming through Lima tomorrow bring the bag with him.
2018/12/27
The next day JJ drives us to the airport. The plane hasn't arrived yet, so we immediately exit, and JJ conducts some business with locals. Then back to the airport, but no plane, so we exit and hit a tiny café. Finally we go to the airport and the plane is there. As it stands, the person couldn't bring our bag, but the airline agreed to load it, and only we can touch it, which works out. A minibus also picks up the other people in our group, and we all go back to settle into our hotel. Later in the day Mohsin and JJ walk us to a restaurant where we eat a big meal while receiving orientation. It's difficult to focus on their talk, as there's a big-screen TV on the wall behind them playing some Peruvian version of Naked and Afraid.
As for our group, there are eight of us: Swedes Olaf and Magnus (late 40s), who are herps (snakers); Ian and Mina (20 and 18 respectively), world-travelers and also herps; Sarad (30ish, Indian), who spends lots of time in the tropics; Stewart (late 30s), a big guy who seems to be doing this just to check off the rainforest on his to-do list; Paula (late-50's, once a world-class triathlon athlete, still highly competitive in her age group); and LC and me, doing research for stories and other things. And yes, I'm also interested in snakes. The group is overloaded with herps.