On the road in Minnesota . . .

The new tent works great! After four days of thunderstorms, some a downpour, we're happy to report this new tent doesn't leak. And we can get it assembled in under 20 minues (a good improvement from the first 35 minute session).

We're camped in the wilds of Minnesota, just outside Minneapolis, and will leave tomorrow for Wisconsin before heading to upper Michigan and the delights of Travers City. Yesterday we ambled through shopping malls, took advantage of 25% off on Senior Weds at the Goodwill, and saw Ice Age at the movies, finishing up with three-mushroom pizza and then ice cream sandwiches while sitting by the pool at the KOA here. And we've admired the Mississippi River from the Science Museum. Not exactly roughing it. However, driving the freeways here at 70+ mph is certainly hair-raising, and city drivers cut it close, much closer here than we do out west.

Arrangements for Scotland are finally falling into place. We have an apartment in Edinburgh already for the month of October. One place. With a kitchen. Two weeks are set in Inverness. Now to somehow make arrangements in Orkney, but today is our last full day in Minneapolis. Will we go to the zoo or the art museum? Don't know yet and don't care. Life is good. This morning I saw a sun shower and a double rainbow before breakfast. I hope the sun is shining where you are.



Minneapolis Institue of Art (Webshots)

Glacier National Park . . .

It's the middle of July. Today we hiked around the eastern half of Glacier National Park to find bright yellow Glacier Lillies poking out of the snow at Logan Pass. Even though it's mid-summer, lowering rain clouds rolled in, shifting and settling over the mountains. Beautiful.



Glacier National Park

On the road again . . .

It appears we are going in circles. We left Spokane on Sunday morning early, well before breakfast, and headed north to Canada. Our maps were well organized and we had a clear plan to cross the continent to Philadelphia via Canada, starting with the Rockies, stopping in at Banff and Jasper, and then car camping across Canada's midwestern plains, revisiting Elk Island, where once a herd of elk leisurely grazed through our campsite.

We flashed passports at the border, drove north for 250 miles, explored historic Fort Steele, and then it began to rain. We camped out at the cheapest hotel we could find in Radium Hot Springs, too discouraged to even take a dip, somewhat taken aback to find the "free internet wireless" was limited to 15 minutes offered by the local service provider. Folks at the Information Center joked about finding hotel deals for US$140 and more a night. And we discovered our sandwiches cost $8 apiece, and gas translates to about $4 a gallon. It can only get better tomorrow, we assured each other. We've been away too long to remember how expensive things are. We'll camp.

Monday morning clouds greeted us, and it rained steadily as we drove through Kootenay National Park to Banff, up that lovely valley ringed by mountains to Lake Louis. But the clouds moved in, covering the mountains, and the rain turned into a downpour. No one was camping.

So we've driven south again, down Bow Parkway some 300 miles. We did see one young elk, glorious in a full rack, covered with velvet, browsing grass alongside the road, oblivious to motorists. I still love the Rockies and we'll return one day, but for now as we travel east, it just seems less complicated to stay in the states where KOA awaits in case of rain.



Photo: Kootenay national Park, British Columbia (Webshots)

On traveling . . .

Still haven't quite come to ground, though we're in Spokane for another 10 days, preparing for three different trips (with lots of packing and unpacking). This video, Where the Hell is Matt, reminds me once again why I love traveling and what is truly human, regardless of country, time or place.



It's funny, his blog is irreverent, and I begin to feel just a little more connected.

We're back . . .

Ok, we've been back now just over two weeks, and I must confess to some jet lag. Rachel sent me to the supermarket to buy some flour, and I couldn't bring myself to choose. Did she want bleached flour or unbleached, organic or whole wheat, another specialty flour or simply baking flour? Or was it bread flour? Three shelves and 20 minutes later, I left -- without buying flour.

And we bought the new computer to replace the one that was stolen. But reloading my programs (and attempting to reload files from my back-ups) brought back a sense of loss and dislocation. Some picture files are truly gone. Priceless, as the ad says. But many pictures remain, some 1500 waiting to be named, organized -- and backed up.

The air everywhere is so clean. No buses belching carbon monoxide. No crowds of people darting across streets, striving to avoid becoming hood ornaments. We drove down from Spokane to the Willamette Valley. Our farms are so tidy, so well organized these early summer days. I don't see people working the fields. I don't see llamas grazing at the side of the road. I feel a sense of nostalgia for my temporary homes in South America -- Peru, Chile, Argentina and Brazil, even as I appreciate the sunset here in the Willamette Valley, turning the sky pink, and to the west, the coastal mountains, layered shadows of purple.

We leave again on July 15 for the wilds of the American midwest, northern Michigan, by August 2, and then to Philadelphia by August 15, a quick drive across country, and then to Scotland for 6-8 weeks (Inverness, Edinburgh, and Orkney). Then back home to Philly and on to Costa Rica for 3-4 months, a settling down time in one place. Perhaps my jet lag will dissipate by then.

Goodbye Peru . . .

Just learned that Air Canada moved our flight up by 3 hours. Phew! And we haven't packed, but I'm not too worried. When you travel for six months with 5 changes of clothing, there's really not that much to pack! Except for the books. And the brochures. And maybe a few gifts. I'm taking a chance that Air Canada will feed us. We're used to stewards and stewardesses on busses, trains and planes here in Peru. On our train trip via Peru Rail to Macchu Picchu, we had a full breakfast on linen. I felt like it was the Orient Express.

Our last day in Cusco was the day before Corpus Christi, celebrating Christ's last supper, that seminal event when Christ distributed wine and bread, a service that has become the Eucharist for millions of Christians. Here in Cusco, the holiday is a major event. Hundreds of people crowded into the Plaza del Armas to see massive flowered floats carrying 17 saints parade throughout Cusco -- all day, accompanied by dancing and marching bands. Groups of people carry the heavily carved wooden floats in a rocking motion to show respect for the saints, visiting the churches in town.

Yes, I have some wonderful pictures, but no way to include them. One of the more interesting parts of this festival was the dance of indigenous rural people in colorful masks and brightly ribboned hats the color of the rainbow, each pair using whips in some sort of drive-out-the-sin ritual. As always, more research is needed. But this was a very colorful last glimpse of Cusco before we came to Lima for a short rest before hopping on Air Canada and coming home -- and perhaps to a new computer sooner than I think! Already Allen is asking me what's after Scotland. Should it be four months in the Carribean or Costa Rica?

Back in Cusco . . .

We are happily back in Cusco, staying at Hotel Corihuasi with its winding stone stairways and rooms overlooking the city (and lots of hot water). Today we spent walking around the town with Al, Pam and Kayla, seeing the city anew through their eyes. We taught Kayla how to say no politely in Spanish to the many street vendors, yet it's difficult to say no to the beautiful crafts here -- weavings, silver, caps, ponchos, finger puppets, sweaters -- all in such vivid colors, and all featuring themes from the Andes.

Just now everyone is visiting the main cathedral here. I'm resting a bit here at the internet cafe, catching up with the high altitude.

Later we'll walk down Lareto Street (a narrow street along what was once the House of the Sun) to admire the Incan stones still making up the walls here: their large geometric shapes fit so tightly together that even today, no one seems able to replicate their walls. Cusco itself, like many other sacred places, takes the shape overall of a crouching feline -- the puma. While we have visited museums here, we've mostly gained an understanding of the artifacts of the Incan culture, but the religion and ideas still elude us. Popularly, Cusco is known as the center or navel of the world, but in planning this city, Incan astrologers planned temples and reshaped hills to create the puma.

Tomorrow we'll visit the Pisac ruins, built in the shape of a condor, and Monday, we go again to Macchu Picchu, which is built in the shape of a llama. Understanding the link between the shape of these places helps me understand the Nazca lines, those mysterious and controversial lines visible only from the sky -- hummingbirds, monkeys, spiders, plants and other shapes. Perhaps once they held a sacred meaning, even as the crouching puma did once for Cusco, and for many, still does.

This mix of ancient traditions and modern struggles with poverty would take more than one visit to understand. Here in Cusco, I've read that about 1 million tourists a year visit. That's a prodigious number of people. What do they take home? Cusco, Incan culture, superimposed with the history of the Spanish conquest and colonial traditions cannot be easily captured in a single photo, a diary entry, or even a memory. The average Peruvian works very hard. Taxi drivers, for example, work 12 hours a day, 7 days a week. Farmers work their fields and harvest by hand. We pass road crews repairing cobblestoned streets, again by hand. Every job is important. Yet unemployment averages 50%. So our tourist dollars help support artisans of all kinds. Today I bought a finger puppet of a llama, beautifully hand knitted with little tassles for roughly 33 cents. Today also, police and protestors clash over how tourist sites are managed and developed. Violence is always under the surface of such a peaceful and beautiful place. I have no answers and yet I am glad we came here.