You are currently browsing the category archive for the ‘travel’ category.

Last month I went on a two week trip to Turkey. Half of me didn’t really want to go because I needed to save money for my parent’s financial crisis. But I was reminded that I needed to live my life too, especially if I’m expecting to be broke in the near future. Fortunately, Turkey must be one of the best bang-for-your-buck countries to visit. Fine dining for three cost about the same as a single entree in San Francisco for much smaller portions. And the food was phenomenal. I fully expected—before the trip—to consume large quantities of falafel, baklava, and kebabs from my limited experience with Mediterranean food in the States. So it was a pleasant surprise to discover that Turkish cuisine is so much more diverse. Domestic airfare and long distance buses proved to be well-used, convenient, and dirt cheap. We found clean, private suites in hostels within $30/person every place we went (at some point in your life, you realize that “dorm-style” housing is not worth saving that few extra bucks). This last point is important, because when we tried to find accommodations for our overnight layover in Amsterdam, we were outraged by the prices—in fact, the only thing we might’ve afforded was an airB&B listing for a boat docked on the river…until we discovered that it was an hourly rate. Overall, this trip probably cost me a grand total of $1700 for two weeks, which is incredible considering how much I was able to see, do, and eat.


1) Minarets are one of the most conspicuous features of any city. Five times a day, the muslim call to prayer is sung live and broadcasted from the megaphones hoisted on top of these towers, including a bright and early wake up alarm at 4:30 AM that I miraculously learned to sleep through. And when prayer calls from neighboring minarets join together, the resulting cacophony of melancholic warbling is actually quite beautiful. I will miss it.

2) Breakfasts are serious deals. I’ve devoured plates heaped with olives, cheese, boiled eggs, bread with sesame paste, cucumbers, tomatoes, yogurt with honey. Always accompanied by freshly squeezed fruit juice. In fact, you never have to walk far to find someone manning a storefront or street cart with a juicer and piles of bright oranges or halved pomegranates with their plump, red seeds exposed. Juice is an any-time-of-day affair.

Fruit stands

3) Turkish hospitality is a real and wonderful thing. I remember the shop owner who ran after us down the street to invite us back for tea—on the house. The local who saw our tired, lost faces and insisted that we accompany him for lunch and an afternoon walk through Antalya’s old city.

4) Cay (“Chai”) is Turkish black tea that is drunk all day, every day. It’s served in small, handle-less glasses. Often, people dart around the market with trays of steamy cups of cay. We found out that tea shops brew large quantities of cay to serve store owners who would order cay to be delivered to each other. Always there would be locals sharing a hot glass with each other, especially in the mornings when the city stirs at 9 AM (nothing is open before then).



5) The Aya Sofia is easily the most beautiful and inspiring building I’ve ever seen. It’s hard not to be impressed by the vaulted ceilings, detailed mosaics, grand arches, and extravagant chandeliers. And like most historical relics, there’s a heavy sense of time passing—the remains of Christian icons juxtaposed next to Islamic fixtures.

Istanbul, Aya Sofya
Istanbul, Aya Sofya
Istanbul, Aya Sofya
Istanbul, Aya Sofya

6) We were provided with head scarfs before entering the Blue Mosque. Inside stood large granite pillars next to wide, circular chandeliers. Underneath those lantern-like bulbs, prayers were made. The domed ceiling was adorned with intricate finishes that were highlighted by light streaming from behind stained windows.

Blue Mosque
Blue Mosque
Blue Mosque

7) The Basilica Cistern was a dark, damp underground chamber that was beautifully lit with soft, golden lights. Pillars rose from gently rippling waters that surrounded the walkways while fat koi fish swam beneath the surface.

Basilica Cistern

8) The Spice Bazaar was a covered marketplace that held countless stalls selling Turkish delights, baklava, tea leaves, spices, and dried fruits. To walk through the bazaar is a feat in itself, since you would be bombarded by store owners hawking their goods and offering free samples of their sweets. It doesn’t take many Turkish delights before your tastebuds become overwhelmed. The surrounding stalls outside the main market featured more local items. Cartons of different varieties of olives, large wheels of cheese, long strings of dried eggplant and peppers hanging from the storefronts. Nearby, we found a smaller market section selling only pets: bunnies, pigeons with fancy tail feathers, parakeets, and—my favorite—medicinal leeches crawling up the sides of glass jars.

Turkish Delights in Spice Bazaar
Tea in Spice Bazaar
Spice Bazaar

Istanbul market

9) Rice pudding was delicious. Many stores had fancy bowls of pudding topped with pistachio, coconut, or flavored with mango and chocolate. But my favorite was just the plain rice pudding with a lightly, caramelized top.

10) Ficcin was an Anatolian restaurant in the Beyoglu district that we went to thrice. It sits in one of the alleyways off the main thoroughfare where all the modern, fancy shops were located. I especially enjoyed the red pepper, walnut paste, eggplant in olive oil, and ravioli filled with meat and topped with yogurt and tomato sauce.

11) On one of our last days in Istanbul, we rode the ferry across the Bosphorous and spent the afternoon perusing hipster-esque stores in the Moda district. Where else can you find custom made mugs with snarky comments and towel hooks in the shape of giant paper clips (except San Francisco)? With a bit of luck, we finally stumbled into a fish market that we had been trying to find for two hours. There, we enjoyed cups of yogurt with generous scoops of honey taken straight from stacks of honey comb dripping with sweet, sticky golden syrup. But even better was our trek to Kanlica, another town on the Asian side of Turkey where we found yogurt topped with heaps of powdered sugar. Sounds odd at first, but the combination of powdery sweetness with creamy tartness was a refreshing snack in the late afternoon heat, especially when enjoyed next to the shimmery waters of the Bosphorous.

12) Dondurma is a special Turkish ice cream with a unique, elastic-y texture. I wondered if they used gelatin or starch to achieve such a chewy consistency.

13) This city is overrun by cats. Never seen so many fat, healthy looking stray cats in my life. Rodents must not be a problem in Turkey.

Cats of Istanbul
Cats of Istanbul

Mosque exterior

People selling bird seeds from booths outside of a Mosque

Galata tower

Galata Tower in Beyoglu, near our hostel.

IstanbulFerry boats selling grilled fish sandwiches. They were delicious.


Lycian Way (Likya Yolu)

We began our hike on the Lycian Way in Oludeniz. Bright wildflowers lined the trail, and in the distance, we could see the colorful chutes of paragliders drifting over the resorts on Oludeniz beach. Later in the morning, we escaped a sudden downpour by hiding out in one of the abandoned buildings on the trail, which might have been the remnants of Greek communities that were deported in the 20’s. The goats also had the same idea. So we stood for awhile amid piles of goat droppings and damp, moody goats. We donned our ponchos and continued on until we found a Cay cafe and decided to wait out the weather with some fellow trail hikers. For the next hour or so, we sipped hot tea and coffee beneath a verandah, listening to rain and hail ping against the tin roof and the rooster crowing in his coop. We finally made it to Faralya, the next small, quaint town on the Lycian Way where we found lodging in a beautiful bungalow at the family-run Montenegro Motel. The rest of the afternoon was spent sipping wine, enjoying the beautiful backdrop of forested mountains overlooking the coastal shore, and sharing wonderful conversations with my two good friends. And although I can’t quite remember what we had for dinner that evening, I do know it was the most delicious meal I had on the trip. Perhaps, even the best day I spent in Turkey.

Lycian Way
Lycian Way
Lycian Way
Lycian Way
Lycian Way

On the second day, we took an alternative route to Kabak along the coast. This was the most strenuous and painful day I had in Turkey, even though it wasn’t terrible in retrospect; we were mostly tired of the heat and being lost towards the end. But the scenery was unbeatable—clear, turquoise waters of the Mediterranean and granite bluffs that were reminiscent of Yosemite. The moment we trudged into Kabak, we ordered delicious Turkish pancakes (gozleme) stuffed with dill and cheese at Mama’s Restaurant and sat in the veranda which had a gorgeous view of Kabak beach below.

Lycian Way

On the third day, we took a bus back to Oludeniz where we transferred and rode to Demre. There, we climbed some rocks at the Myra ruins to peer into Lycian tombs that were cut into the cliff face. The ample supply of stone near Demre made it an important city in Roman (or Lycian?) times for the production of sarcophagi. In fact, sarcophagi are strewn across the valley floor and even some parts of town where modern buildings and streets have built around them.

Lycian Way
Lycian Way
Lycian Way
Lycian Way

On the fourth day, we rode to Antalya where we spent the day touring the Old City with a local who insisted on showing us around. We strolled through narrow alleyways lined with boutiques and hotels with red tiled roofs. At the docks, signs advertised half hour rides on ridiculously decorated boats (think “Pirates of the Caribbean”). We were only slightly tempted. Come evening, we boarded our overnight bus to our next destination, Goreme in Cappadocia.

Lycian Way
Lycian Way

Cappadocia Highlights

1) Rolling into Goreme around 6 AM with the silhouettes of hundreds of balloons hovering in the skies. Even in my sleep-deprived, cotton-mouth state, I was struck by the surreal beauty of the land.


View from our hostel rooftop in the morning

2) Pigeon Valley was one of the first sights we saw on the Green Tour. The valley walls were gentle slopes of smooth, dune-like formations. Rocky spires rose from the valley floor. Almost each one had several rectangular windows carved in its side, presumably to house the carrier pigeons that were used in antiquity.


3) We visited Derinkuyu, an underground city that used to be inhabited by Christians who sought safety in these caverns from persecution. The chambers were dark and cool, and surprisingly airy. The walls of the caves were soft and moist to the touch. We wound our way through the narrow corridors, crouching in several places to avoid smacking our heads into the low ceilings. To think that whole communities, including heir livestock, were all housed underground!

4) Selime was a beautiful, rock-hewn monastery. The chambers were simply carved; shallow indentations in the walls might have served as shelves. From the windows, we caught a beautiful view of the neighboring towns. My hands ran across the rough surface of the window sill, shifting some of the small stony grains that had collected there. Selime, a centuries-old relic quietly crumbling with the times.


5) We went for a stroll just outside of Goreme to enjoy the beautiful morning on the second day. A cheerful, stray dog joined us on our little venture, playing among the tall grassy stalks that lined the path. Once again, I was struck by the rocky dunes—like the creases and folds of a fine cloth.


Vicky and our doggy companion standing at that peak.

6) There were two very memorable meals. One at the Anatolian Kitchen in Goreme. We ordered kebabs that were slow cooked in hand made clay pots that were broken open when served. The second dinner was at a Urgup, a remote town in the region where we found a cozy, secluded hotel/restaurant, Aravan Evi. The family owned business serves fresh vegetables grown in their garden. We dined inside a charming enclosed terrace, enjoying the taste of fresh dill and mint in yogurt served with stuffed grape leaves.

7) Much to our frustration, we didn’t find the way markers for the Red/Rose valley trail. But we did have a beautiful hike through Sword Valley. Once I managed to get down to the valley floor, we were surprised by the abundance of vegetation. We followed a small, trickling stream that ran through some cave tunnels. Tadpoles were spawning in puddles on the side. Once the trail took us out of the valley, we found ourselves surrounded by fields of tall grass with brilliant, red poppies standing among them.


8) We rose at 4 AM to ride a hot air balloon. I didn’t really wake up until we were up in the air and met the breath-taking shapes of the Cappadocian land. We spotted the light pink hues of the rocks marking Rose Valley, which we didn’t get a chance to hike. Some of the other balloons were delightfully patterned with bright colors that stood out among the patches of green fields below. We drifted over the canyons and rose higher to catch the rays of the rising run peeking over the edge of the mountain. I couldn’t imagine any place else more beautiful than Cappadocia.


9) We rented a car on our last day in Cappadocia. We drove to see the phallic shaped rocks at the aptly named Love Valley. We saw the “fairy chimneys,” which were more pointy shaped rocks. But the best part was visiting Avanos, a small town in the region that is known for pottery. At Sultans Ceramics, we found shelves stocked with some of the most carefully molded and intricately decorated ceramics. There were tall, slender wine flutes; short, stout tea pots; round bottomed jars; hour-glassed vases. Each one was covered with fantastic illustrations and designs—ornate flowers and leaves, silhouettes of antelopes. We learned that each painter specialized in painting just one thing. One person paints only carnations; another would specialize in fish. It resonated with some of the art culture that was beautifully described in Orhan Pamuk’s, “My Name is Red.”


10) On a side note, I was really glad to read some of Pamuk’s works before coming to Turkey. “My Name is Red,” especially, because it managed to vividly describe art as if I could see it—no, more like feel it. Pamuk writes, it is one thing to paint a tree in all its glorious details—leaves, branches and twigs, carefully captured on paper. But it is another thing to paint a tree that is its meaning. I would say it is the same with this novel.

Both in this book, and in his other one, “Snow,” Pamuk draws on the theme of conflict between Eastern and Western culture, modernity and tradition. I don’t think I know any more of Turkey’s long and storied past from reading Pamuk, and I’m not meant to; but I feel like the novels offer an essence of this country’s meaning in a way that is perhaps more valuable than historical facts. This is all to say—please read Pamuk.

Kitten and wine

Kitten and wine at a winery

Pictures on my flickr


Four months ago, I booked tickets for a guided trek to Machu Picchu. I figured this is what you do when you become newly single: you chop off your hair and get out of the country. I wish I could say that I chose Peru for a special reason, but truth is, I chose Peru because: 1) my best friend went two years ago 2) I speak some Spanish 3) it was more affordable than Europe. In hindsight, I couldn’t have picked a better place to go for my first trip abroad by myself.

There were many reasons why I made this trip alone. Partly, because I was tired of waiting for friends to find time. But mostly, because I wanted to do something that surprised myself–and my mother, who is a great believer of not doing anything “unsafe,” including but not limited to things, such as, getting home after midnight, biking in San Francisco (this concern might be justified), and traveling to foreign countries alone. I didn’t make this trip because I needed to escape from my insecurities, although that may have been the original intention. I did it because I no longer wanted to hear what I can or can’t do. So this one is for my mom; because sometimes, you need to break out of the bubble you’ve built in order to know that you’re alive.


1. I’ve been told to only hail cabs carrying a visible license, but the two best rides I’ve had during my trip were both in unmarked vehicles. The first was with Felipe who drove me from the airport to my hostel. Why was it memorable? A) I wasn’t robbed/killed. B) I was charged a relatively reasonable price of 20 soles (compared to the 60 soles that one of my trekking friends had to pay) and C) I carried a whole freakin’ conversation in Spanish for 15 minutes. Thank you, Spanish AP. In my excitement, I enthusiastically informed Felipe of how I was traveling alone for the very first time and that I plan on visiting the Sacred Valley and that I’ve booked a guided trek to Machu Picchu and, by the way Mr. Stranger, did I mention I was traveling alone? If only my high school Spanish teachers can see me now!

La Catedral, Cusco

View of La Catedral from the balcony of Iglesia de la Compania de Jesus.

La Catedral, Cusco

La Catedral

La Catedral, Statue of Pachacutec

Iglesia de la Compania de Jesus and the Statue of Pachacutec (the name of which I only found out on wikipedia after I got back. You can tell I was totally up to speed on Incan history).

2. If you’ve visited one church, you’ve pretty much seen them all. Domed arches, elaborate altars, golden facades, paintings of the Crucifixion, figurines of Virgin Mary, statues of saints. I wasn’t too keen on lingering, because, frankly, all the frills and ruffles of the Roman Catholic church made me sad. It has to do with the fact that everything about the dazzling decadence of these religious and historical relics has to do with great suffering–the death of Jesus and the conquest of the Incan people.

statue of pachacutec

Statue of Pachacutec in the Plaza

cusco street

3. Walking through the narrow streets in Cusco is an exercise in caution. Drivers are ruthless, there are no traffic lights, and sidewalks are only a foot wide in some places. Too many times I had to duck into a doorway to avoid being smacked in the face by a rearview mirror. The city is so packed with tourists anyway, who cares if they run over one of them, right?

4. For a better experience of Cusco, walk towards the streets south of San Pedro Market where you can find fewer tourists and more stores selling local wares. I vividly remember standing in the doorway of a pet store, watching a cage full of colorful parakeets(?) squabbling at each other. I remember a woman passing by with a tray of plastic cups, each filled with a sky-high pile of whipped cream. I remember walking past food carts carrying mounds of fried dough. The streets are colorful and loud, a welcome contrast from the stuffy and somber air of the churches.


View from the back of Qorikancha


One of the rooms in Qorikancha




5. Peruvians must love their dogs, because they are everywhere. In Cusco and in the villages I’ve passed through on my Machu Picchu trek. This one’s lethargic pose caught my attention. Much less cute are the Peruvian Hairless Dogs. Nobody should breed those things.

san blas, cusco

San Blas, one of the neighborhoods in Cusco.

san blas, cusco

san blas, cusco

So many doors in Cusco, and even the ones out in the villages, were painted blue.


I bet baby alpacas make for good pets

6. On my second day, I hopped into a combi (local vans) bound for Pisac, one of the villages in the Sacred Valley. The trip took a little over an hour and cost me only 4-5 soles, or slightly over a dollar. Compare that to the$14 Uber ride from my apartment in San Francisco to the UCSF campus on the other side of the city, a 3 mile trip that takes about 20 minutes.

After browsing through the Pisac Market where every stall is basically sold the same merchandise (alpaca sweaters, Andean flutes, and other souvenirs), I took a taxi to to the Incan ruins where I made the mistake of hiring a guide at my driver’s insistence (saying “no” is not a strong suit of mine). I spent the next hour and half being rushed through the sites by an overly enthusiastic guide, who kept remarking at my breathlessness as we climbed up the stone paths, “This is just a warm-up for Machu Picchu!”




Nothing is ever drab in Peru.


IMG_9012 copy

Women often wore pleated knee-length skirts, braids underneath rimmed hats, and a large shawl tied around their shoulders which often doubled as a sack to hold a child or merchandise.


Looking over the valley from Pisac


Incan ruins at Pisac

terraces in pisac

Terraces in Pisac

IMG_8994 copy

Pisac ruins

7. I wandered into a food stall at the local produce market in Pisac and ordered Ceviche for lunch. I’ve had ceviche before, so I knew generally what to expect. So I was thrown when the lady served me a bowl of weird looking nuts with a side of creamy sauce. Did I not just order ceviche? The mother and son sitting at the other end of the table threw me some odd glances as I inspected these alien nuts, which were beige and patterned with black zigzag lines. I pointed to the bowl, made a dipping gesture with the sauce and asked if that was how I was supposed to eat this. They frowned and shook their heads. As I was trying to decide what to do, the lady finally came back with the rest of my order and mercifully ended my very visible confusion. Ah, I thought, as I looked at my plate of trout and sweet potato slices tossed with onions, the nuts are a topping for the ceviche! It was delicious. Before I left, I motioned to the bowl of nuts and asked the lady who served me the ceviche, “Qué es esto? (what is this?)” She gave me an amused smile and said “Maiz.”

8. For my last night in Cusco, I had roasted cuy (guinea pig) for dinner. Served whole, head and limbs intact. In my case, since I made a half order, my cuy was sliced down the middle. It came with a side of stuffed peppers and corn on the cob with the plumpest and largest kernels I’ve ever seen. Since I was given no utensils (“hands only” is the proper way to eat cuy), I grabbed the paws and chomped right in. Not too tender. Definitely a one time experience. Pisco Sours, on the other hand, I could use more of.

 9. Two months ago I sprained my ankle while walking up Haight. At least I still have a good two months to let my ankle heal, I said. Because wouldn’t it suck to sprain your ankle right before your trek to Machu Picchu?

It did.

I gave myself good sprain on my second night in Cusco. The irony was not lost on me even as I laid writhing on the ground in pain being ignored by all the English-speaking tourists. I was finally helped by a Chilean woman and the Tourist Police, who I managed to convince–once I could speak again–that I did not need to go to the hospital. Back at the hostel, I watched with panic as my ankle swelled and darkened. Some folks who had just returned from the Salkantay Trek, the same one I had booked, urged me to forget about going. Maybe I could take the train to Machu Picchu and fill the rest of my time with a non-intensive trip to the rainforest or Nazca. Conflicted, I texted Vicky, who is my source of wisdom for everything in life (except for the time she convinced me that it would be okay to strap a queen sized mattress to her Prius and drive it across the bay bridge. It was not okay). Her response:

“As a doctor, I’d say don’t do it.

As a friend, I’d say do it.”

That pretty much settles it. I wasn’t going to cancel a trip I had waited for four months. If Fred, my 60 year old roommate at the hostel, could hike Kilimanjaro with a busted knee, then I can certainly hike five days to Machu Picchu, right?

10. This brings me to the best cab ride ever. The morning after my sprain, Fred suggested I go to my travel agency and ask whether they would still let me do the trek with an injury. We flagged down a sketchy looking cab. After we dropped Fred of at San Pedro, I gave the names of the cross streets for the office of the agency to my driver who didn’t seem to recognize them. I was right, because we proceeded to spend the next hour and half circling the city on a quest to find the elusive travel agency. At some point in this whole ordeal, it no longer mattered whether we reached the destination or not (we did not); because I had surprisingly a lot of fun chatting with Noe, my driver. Few things are more conductive to friendship than puzzling over google maps together on an iphone screen. In between my trying to give directions in broken Spanish and him asking several locals for help, we talked about Cusco and San Francisco. It’s funny how the threshold for making connections with people is so much lower in foreign countries than it is with people back home.

I am so grateful for and touched by Noe’s kindness and patience. Thank you for not abandoning me in the middle of nowhere even though I tried to convince you that it was okay. Thank you for insisting that we keep trying even though I was ready to give up half an hour in. And thank you for showing me that you enjoyed our little adventure as well when you flat out refused the 40 soles ($13) I sheepishly offered you at the end (rides only cost 4 soles in the city). “Lo siento por la inconveniencia (I’m sorry for the inconvenience)!”

Salkantay Trek

Day 1: Mollepata to Soraypampa

Woke up at 4 AM on the day of my trek, and with Fred’s help, wrapped my heel and ankle with surgical tape for compression and stability. The tape probably saved my life on Day 2. But the hike on the first day was gentle. We passed through a valley where we can see Salkantay, the snow capped mountain, in the distance. The clouds cast beautiful shadows on the pale yellow slopes and the afternoon sun accentuated every groove and rocky crevice.


Salkantay, the snow capped mountain in the distance

salkantay trek

Day 2: Salkantay Pass to Colcapampa

On the second day, we left the sunny Andean mountains behind and made our way towards Salkantay. I was pretty optimistic about the hike until we reached the seven switchbacks, and suddenly, I found myself wheezing and gasping for air. I spent the next three hours trailing behind the group, moving at a glacial pace up the steep, rocky path. Occasionally, lines of mules would pass by carrying trekkers from other groups who couldn’t handle the altitude. Hah! At least I’m not on a mule, I thought. 10 minutes later: Oh God, I wish I were on a mule.

salkantay trek

salkantay trek

salkantay trek


My smiling face hides the actual agony I’m in.

Vicky had urged me not to pack too warmly, because the days are warm and the sleeping bag that the trekking company provides is more than enough to keep you toasty at night. I’m so glad I didn’t listen to her. On the first night, I wore my triclimate jacket, fleece sweater, thermal undershirt, sweat pants, and beanie in my sleeping bag and was still cold. I really should’ve read the trek description a little more closely.

When we reached the top of the pass, Carlos made us take swigs of “glacier water” from his water bottle, which turned out to be filled with vodka. After what I had just went through, I really could have used more.

salkantay trek

It didn’t seem like it would be possible, but actually hiking down from the mountain was infinitely worse than the uphill battle. I’m so glad I had spent 10 soles to buy a walking stick, because there was absolutely no way I wouldn’t have slipped and sprained my ankle again on those wet and loose stones. Best $3 purchase I’ve ever made in my life.

Incredibly, just an hour or two after passing through heavy snow fall, I found myself descending into a warm, moist cloud forest. Suddenly, the rocky and barren landscape turned into valleys of lush green with hummingbirds flitting among the trees. We made it to our campsite just as a light drizzle began to set in. I wish I had taken more photos of the rest of the trek, but like I mentioned, I was too busy trying not to die.

Day 3: Colcapampa to La Playa

1) We continued to hike through the forest, passing several villages and farmhouses on the way. At one point, Carlos and I were making our way through a landslide on a very narrow path that someone had cut through the damp earth. Two girls in front of us decided that this was the perfect time to stop and take a selfie. Obviously, they were not aware of the thousand foot drop to their right. To my friends, Becky and Dan, who made me promise to take selfies on my trip, this is another reason why I hate them.

2) I learned to peel and eat passion fruit.

3) Every time I lost my footing, Carlos would say, “Please don’t die here!” Guess who would have had to give me a piggy back ride down the mountain if I sprained my ankle again? I’m sure he was pleased that we didn’t have to go there.

4) After three days of vigorous sweating and no showers, it feels amazing to jump into the hot springs at Santa Teresa. It doesn’t even matter that hundreds of other sweaty, unwashed tourists like myself had been soaking in the very same water.

Day 4: Ziplining, Hidroelectrica and Aguas Calientes


Zip-lining with Cola de Mano over the Andean Valley

This might be my favorite part of the trek. For $30, I went zip-lining across the beautiful Andean mountains and cloud forest. It was so beautiful that I couldn’t afford to be scared. For the last cable run, I strapped the harness on backwards so that I could hang face down as I flew over the tree tops.

When I got back with my trekking group, Carlos pulled me aside and told me that he was glad to see me; because, apparently, the other zip-lining company in the area was known for some grisly accidents. Thanks, Carlos, for telling me after the fact.

We spent the rest of the day hiking along train tracks towards Aguas Calientes. Along the way, the tracks crossed several tens of feet above river rapids. But with no railing or side path, you had to walk very carefully on the wooden planks of the tracks to avoid slipping through the gaps. Because I was so focused on not falling to my death, I failed to notice the train coming from the opposite direction until I heard my group frantically shouting my name. That’s when I bounded the rest of the way and made it to the other side just in time to avoid a horrible death by train. I’m really glad I didn’t become “the-stupid-tourist-that-got-run-over-by-a-train-and-that’s-why-they’ve-installed-hand-rails-on-these-tracks-now.”

Day 5: Machu Picchu

My ankles and knees are done at this point even though I’ve been popping ibuprofen religiously. I walked into Machu Picchu determined not to hike anymore, ever again. Since we were one of the first groups to walk into the ruins, I was able to catch a glimpse of the place before it was swarming with tourists. Mist drifted up the side of the mountain and everything was cast in cold grey blue under the early morning light. It seemed surreal that we had finally reached this point.

As we stood on the terraces, listening to Carlos give his spiel about the discovery of Machu Picchu, warm light began to inundate the rocks as the sun finally rose from behind the surrounding mountain peaks.

machu picchu

Can you see the giant mountain face in the background?

machu picchu

View of Machu Picchu from the Sun Gate

machu picchu



machu picchu

machu picchu

machu picchu

machu picchu

Other thoughts from the trek:

1) The food I was served during my trek was the best food I had in Peru. I was so impressed every night by the quantity and quality of food our chef was able to whip up with his tiny stove. My favorites were the lomo saltado and avocado salad.

2) Couldn’t have asked for a better guide than Carlos, who not only made sure I didn’t die, but went out of his way to take care of my swollen ankle. Thank you for bringing me coca tea every morning at 5 AM even when it was pouring rain.

3) All I’ll ever ask for from a rest room is that the ground is not wet. That’s all I’ll ever want ever again.

4) Having no internet access was incredibly freeing. I did not have earphones blasting music into my ears. I did not have gmail constantly open in the background. For the first time in months, I felt fully present in the present.

5) A diet of 80% carbs and 20% meat = constipation.

6) I enjoyed the trek much more than I enjoyed actually being at Machu Picchu. If I had just taken the train in, I would have been so overwhelmingly annoyed by the crowds of tourists. I still was, but I was also incredibly grateful to have experienced the humbling beauty of the Andean mountains that has made the setting of Machu Picchu especially mesmerizing.

Lake Titicaca

After my trek to Machu Picchu, a seven hour bus ride on a comfy tour coach sounded like the best thing in the world. Although, if I had more time, I would definitely have ridden the local bus or some other direct service without the tour portion; it’s really not worth it. The best thing about the bus ride was simply looking out the window and watching the scenery roll by. Every farm house, village, and river was framed by the mountains and clouds in the background. I watched women, in their telltale rimmed hats and pleated skirts, traipse across fields. My eyes were always drawn to their colorful dresses that often stood out against the dry, yellow soil of the land.




People get sad without knowing it. Sometimes there isn’t a good reason, and sometimes it’s a multitude of reasons that’s hard to define. I think I had been sad for awhile before I left for Peru, but it was hard for me to see that until I left and saw something new. These mountains, they made me feel acutely alive. They reminded me, not only how big the world is, but how much there is to feel. What a shame it would be to waste so much time getting lost in one feeling.



Raqchi, Temple of Wiracocha

I spent two days and one night on Lake Titicaca, visiting Uros, Amantani, and Taquile. The lake and the islands were beautiful, but it’s hard to get a good sense of how the locals lived. Mostly because all three communities were so heavily dependent on tourism for their livelihood. Next time I travel to South America, I definitely want to live in a small town somewhere and just get to know people more.


The first thing I noticed was the colorful clothing of the Uros people against the dried, pale yellow reeds used to construct their island home.

uros reed boat

Reed boats

uros reed boat

amantani, lake titicaca

View from Amantani at the Temple of Pachapapa

amantani, lake titicaca

taquile, lake titicaca

amantani host

My host on Amantani

I’m so grateful for all the places I’ve seen and the people I’ve met. One of the best parts of the trip was just chatting with other backpackers and being inspired by their experiences. In writing this post, I realized that there’s already so much I’ve forgotten, but hopefully the important memories and feelings will stay with me.

My friend, Evelyn, wrote a hilarious blog post on her Salkantay trek experience. Definitely a worthy read!

My brother, mom, and I took a 1.5 week trip to Japan and Hong Kong right after Thanksgiving. I wish I took more photos while I was there, but I was too busy 1) eating 2) planning and navigating the whole trip and 3) dealing with whiny family members who dislike waking up early and walking too much. We almost had soba/ramen for every meal while I was in Japan–still not tired of it. I wish I had more time to eat more food and to explore more of Japan outside of Tokyo, but that will have to wait for the next time when I can go again, by myself.

Tokyo is probably the only city in the world that I would not hesitate to use the subway toilets. Why are they so clean? After experiencing the hygienic miracle that is the Tokyo Metro, there is no doubt that the San Francisco Muni is disgusting in comparison. Don’t even get me started about the cesspool that is BART.

We visited Tsukiji fish market and ate a ton of sushi and kebabs of fried squid and fish. We walked through the outdoors market around Asakusa shrine. We went to the temples in Kamakura. We saw the hot springs in Hakone and soaked ourselves in in hot spring water at an onsen. We went to Ginza and saw a kabuki show. This last one I got a lot of flak from my mom and brother both of whom ardently opposed to going or seeing anything akin to museums and other “boring” stuff. Well, I enjoyed it.

We also went in time to see the last bit of autumn color.

IMG_8532 copy

IMG_8534 copy

One of the temples in Kamakura:


IMG_8609 copy

IMG_8578 copy

IMG_8585 copy

IMG_8589 copy

IMG_8555 copy

IMG_8538 copy

This is the first time I’ve been back to Hong Kong for eight years. It certainly has gotten a lot smoggier, and it definitely was not 70 degrees in December last I remembered.

Hong Kong

green tea macarons

My first attempt at making Green Tea Macarons. Still don’t understand why they’re such a big deal. They taste good but not particularly awesome. I will probably make more just because I like the challenge.

The tutorial from the website I found the recipe was actually quite helpful.

Matcha Green Tea Macarons from Iron Whisk

A couple of weekends ago, Juan and I took a day trip to Newport, Rhode Island for wine tasting.  Did you know ice wine is made from frozen grapes picked during the winter when the sugar is most concentrated in the fruit?

IMG_3631 copy

IMG_3622 copy

These grapes won’t be ready for picking until much later in the fall when they will be fat, plump, and hanging low on the vines.  Vines can be productive for up to 70 years.  We also saw the cisterns and bottling machines where they prepare and package the wines; one bottling machine costs about a small villa in Italy.  I think I’d take the villa.  Apparently, the type of wooden barrel used to age the wine contributes to the flavor; however, my untrained tongue would have no idea how to discern the difference.  Someday, I will take a wine class.

IMG_3687 copy

Juan eating a lobster fritter at one of the restaurants near the wharf in downtown Newport.  It was spicy.

IMG_3694 copy

Originally, we had wanted to get some Quahogs (large stuffed clams), which I’ve only heard of in New England, but I could be mistaken.  Unfortunately, the restaurant ran out of Quahogs and we were too tired to get up and find another place.  However, we did enjoy a big plate of mussels.  Here’s the leftovers.

IMG_3702 copy

IMG_3715 copy

After lunch, we went to take a walk on Easton Beach.  I loved wading in the water and feeling the power of the waves rush through your legs.

IMG_3719 copy

IMG_3748 copy

Juan looking “cool.”

IMG_3718 copy

Next time I will bring my swimsuit.

IMG_3763 copy

After the beach, we went on the Cliff Walk and looked at the big mansions next to the spectacular ocean view.  We climbed down a set of stone stairs and walked on the rocks of the cliff edge.  On some of the rocks, we noticed swarms of jumping flies that would reappear after each wave washed over the rock.  I’m definitely not a bug person, so I let Juan go in closer to indulge his fascination.  We still don’t know what they were, ocean fleas or whatever.  Other than that, we enjoyed the refreshing ocean air and amused ourselves by imagining what the insides of those mansions looked like.

Looking forward to my next oceanside trip!