Our summer in Peru

January 27, 2011

January 11^th was the last time either of us wrote on the blog and at the facebook request of Claire I am trying to correct our two week absence. What have we been doing for the last two weeks? - Everything. We took a bus from Lake Titicaca to the amazing city of Cusco. Cusco cannot actually be described very easily. It is a city of contrasts, its streets cobbled with myth and conquests and at one time gold. The city sits in a valley and the surrounding hillsides are terraced, as is much of Peru, for planting thousands of different types of potatoes and one type of corn. These terraces are not new: they were there when the Spanish entered the city in 1533 and they were there when the 1^st Incan, Capac, found the “navel of the world” and claimed the area as the capital of his empire. These green terraces starkly contrast the grey stones that were chiseled to sit perfectly, one on top of the other, by the Quechua people for the Incans. (Incan means king and so only the kings were Incans everyone else was Quechua, which is the name of the language many still speak) In the city you can walk down narrow streets that the Incans once walked down.  These are also the same streets that Pizarro and his men marched on. Every building you enter is an archeological site. Sitting in a pizzeria one day I noticed that the wall was obviously Incan because it too had perfectly cut stone and these stones were marked with numbers that the owner had left after the archeologist marked them. Also, in this ancient capital city, you can watch women and little girls walk around leading Llamas behind them...animals very out of place in the urban landscape. This can all be seen while sitting on the steps of Cusco’s cathedral which was built on top of an Incan palace. So Cusco is pretty much amazing and it’s not even the primary attraction.

Machu Picchu…. “Discovered” in 1911 by a professor from Yale, Machu Picchu is one of the most spectacular sites on this continent. I would argue that it is more amazing than the Acropolis in Athens. I guess Athens is never hard to beat however, since it smells like urine. Anyways, Machu Picchu is frakin’ cool. Buffy and I didn’t have time to actually hike the Incan trail and we had heard that we wouldn’t want to anyways so we took a train from Cusco to the town of Aguas Calientes.  Aguas Calientes really only exists to support the tourism of Machu Picchu. It sits at the base of four VERY large mountains, the top of which you can only see on the sunniest of days. This town is also flanked by a rushing brown river that is part of the end of the Amazon. We stayed one night there and then took a bus up the winding trail to the “lost city of the Incans”. This drive is splendid. From the bus you can see waterfalls, forests and mountain tops and as you get closer to the ruins you start to see the marks of a lost empire. Once we actually got to the site its size and grandeur were immediately visible.

In 1911, Hiram Bingham, the archeologist credited with the discovery, was apparently pissed off about the discovery of Machu Picchu (as he was looking for someplace else entirely). But in following years he began to excavate and quickly recognized the significance of this site.  It is literally a city on top of a mountain. The Incan priest or king who built the site took great pains to build it here. It is linked by an Incan road (just a sliver of an immense highway that stretched from present day Chile to Ecuador) and by bridges that were built along cliffs. There are many impressive buildings on this site as well as astronomical carvings and niches for worship (maybe for mummies). We spent about eight hours just walking around and being truly amazed. Also at Machu Picchu you can look at Llamas and we were extremely lucky because the night before we arrived, a sacred black Llama was born, and three days earlier a tri-colored one. They were both pretty cute and frolicking like baby Llamas do.

After Cusco and Machu Picchu, Buffy and I took another 21 hour bus ride to Lima. We had heard from fellow travelers that Lima was barely worth a stop and not to stay for more than a day, but we found it to be pretty cool and interesting. Lima is now the capital city of Peru and has been since 1535 when Pizarro made it so. But the city was destroyed by an earthquake in the mid 18^th century and so all of the colonial architecture is less than three hundred years old-yawn. Just kidding. The city has some cool museums and we went to the most fascinating one yet- Museo Larco may be the most fascinating because of its large collection of ancient erotic pottery. J We spent a few days in Lima recuperating from travelers fatigue and enjoying the oxygen (we’d been at over 14,000 feet for weeks by that point) and then we headed north towards Ecuador.

On our way to Ecuador we stopped in a little town called Trujillo, which is not so little. Named after Pizarro’s hometown in Espana, Trujillo has colonial architecture dating back to the 1500’s. Trujillo is also surrounded by the remains of civilizations predating the Incans. The Moche and the Chimu were two cultures that built great pyramids and palaces using adobe. When we first arrived in Trujillo I was not too interested in these adobe ruins, having played in my fair share back home, but these sites proved to be remarkable-and a must see for any of you planning a trip to Peru. These ancient ruins made up the largest adobe city in the world back in 1300 c.e. And the sand and adobe served to preserve paintings and other important archeological artifacts that a visitor can see and take photos of. It is really difficult to describe the awesomeness of a 14 story building made of adobe. I really cannot do it justice.

Hanging out around Huanchaco, the fishing/surfing village we stayed in north of Trujillo, I discovered Papas rellenas! So… these things are amazing!!!! What they do is take a potato and mash it and then stuff it with meat or a hardboiled egg or veggies or all three and then they fry it! Now this process can be done entirely by a little old lady with a baby strapped to her back at a stand attached to a bicycle. And I love it! But I also pay for it each time since my puny American stomach flora can’t handle street food. But I’m working on that by eating as much as I can and spending everyday sick!

Anyways we left Peru after only a few weeks but what feels like a lifetime and rode three more buses for a total of 26 hours to Cuenca! We spent most of our three days in Cuenca sick in bed so not a lot to report there but now we are in Quito! I also don’t have a lot to say about Quito since we just got here about 15 hours ago but will report more in the future. What I can say is that you can buy a three course vegetarian meal including a drink for $2 and so I’m a bit in love.

Eating street food in Peru!

Street vendor express!

Terraces and fields around Cusco



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Black Baby Llama chillin in Machu Picchu



11 Jan 11-Lake Titicaca

These last few days we’ve been exploring the fabled Lake Titicaca, the mythical origin of the Incan people and, at about 13,000 ft above sea level, the highest lake in the world.  We went on a 2 day tour that explored several islands in the Peruvian side of the lake (the lake sits on the Peru/Bolivia border). 

First, we visited Islas Flotantes, one of over 60 floating islands.  These floating islands are man-made from reeds that grow in the lake.  Legend has it that locals constructed the islands and set out to sea in order to isolate themselves from aggressive Incas, who spent 100 years violently conquering and subjugating western South America.  These islands are trippy!  They are constructed of several layers of reeds that float on the lake’s surface.  The islands last about 30 years each.  They are constantly decomposing, so they smell a bit and they are squishy!  Walking on the island is kind of like walking on top of a mattress...a little unstable.  The houses are also made out of reeds and last about 10 years, and their boats are made out of reeds and last about 5 years.  There are little garden plots in some sections, and they place their stoves on top of rocks so that they don’t set fire to the island.  Smoking on the islands is strictly prohibited for the same reason!  Honestly, this part of the tour was over touristy….a little short on interesting information and a little long on efforts to squeeze a few more bucks out of visitors, but still good.  Also, I really liked seeing all of the solar panels outside the houses…technology at work!  Jynene and I got to hear a few of the local boys speak Quechua, which is the pre-Columbian Andean language.  The boys were going out on a trip in their canoe to hunt flamingos with these crazy looking hunting rifles.

Then, we visited the real earth island Amantani.  This island is very rocky and hilly, and is inhabited by 4,000 people split among 10 villages.  There are no cars or hotels on the island, and the people mostly speak Quechua and wear traditional clothing (seen in pictures below!).  Also, there is no church on the island because they were never converted to Christianity!  They still worship their ancestral deities.  This is really cool to me because I have never visited a community that maintained its original non-major religion.  First, all of us gringos climbed up to the top of one of the peaks on the island.  This was extremely difficult because of the altitude: we climbed from about 13,000 feet to 13,700 feet.  It was tough!  But the view was worth the effort.  Jynene played a game of soccer before the climb, because she is un poco loco en la cabeza.  From the peak we could look over the entire island, which is all hills, but the local community has cut terraces into the entire island to create farm land.  It’s really amazing looking and must have taken hundreds of years to terrace the entire island.  Also, the two peaks of the island correspond to the two places of worship, Pachatata and Pachamama (Father and Mother Earth).  So we got to visit the temple of Pachatata at the end of our climb.  We learned a little bit about the way of life on the island: There are 10 villages, and each village is responsible for growing one or two types of crops.  For example, a few villages will grow potatoes, a few will grow quinoa, a few will grow oca, a few will grow coca (although the source plant of cocain, coca is locally grown for use in tea/medicine and religious ceremonies and is not a narcotic here).  I don’t mean that it’s just not considered a narcotic, I mean it’s actually not a narcotic but is just like any other tea leaf and is good for treating altitude sickness and other ailments.  The 10 villages pool their produce and rotate crops.  Inside the 10 villages, the fields are communally owned and farmed.  Once a year each year, everyone on the island journey’s to the top of one of the two peaks, Pachatata or Pachamama, 5 villages to each peak, for a day of worship and prayer and communion with the heavens.  All of us tourists got to stay with a local family and share meals with them.  We ate quinoa soup and rice and eggs and potato and pasta.  The islander’s aren’t very well off and so can’t provide meat.  They did, however, dress us up in their traditional garb and bring us to a local dance.  See pictures for more on that!

The next day, we went to our last destination, the island Taquile.  Here is where the trip fell apart- a bit.  Our tour guide had partied that night before on the island and was still intoxicated in the morning.  He gave us curt instructions about what to do on the island in garbled Spanish/English/Quechua that none of the 30 of us tourists understood.  But we made our way from the port to the main square, had lunch, and walked to the other port on the other side of the island where the boat picked us up.  As the boat pulled up to the docks on the mainland and the tour was about to end, this tour guide suddenly woke up and started telling us about the island of Taquile, about 4 hours too late.  A few of the folks on the tour called the company and complained, and Jynene and I got a call at our hostel asking us to confirm the complaints about the tour guide. And apparently that guide no longer works for the company.  As annoying as it was that our guide didn’t do his job, it was good for a laugh.

So here we are, sitting in our hostel in the mainland, reflecting on our fun and interesting exploration of Lake Titicaca.  Tomorrow, we head to Cuzco, the heart of the Incan Empire!



The reeds that make Islands



Kitchen

Chasing Dakar-Or rather being chased by Dakar!

January 7, 2011

Today we are in Arica, Chile and I am sick. Damn. Buffy had a super cold for the last five days and so now I fear I will have to suffer as she did over the next few days. I have to say I was quite happy with my immune system as I watched her cough and sneeze. But now I know I was premature in my thinking and believe I will endure more suffering as a result of my pride. L On the bright side Dakar (an international race through Argentina and Chile) finally caught up with us, after trailing us through two countries and five cities. So today we will hang out, in this border town, long enough to see the racers pass by and snap a few photos to make my uncle’s, back in the states, happy. Our goal is to see Dakar, get lunch, hop across the border, get a bus and arrive in Arequipa, Peru by nightfall. Is it possible –likely not since we’ve had absolutely no success with border crossings up to this point.

Last week we camped out in La Quica, Argentina for five days hoping that the crisis sparked by a 70% hike in gasoline prices would quell in time for us to go to La Paz, Bolivia. In the end we didn’t go to Bolivia because there was no public transportation, $130 visa, and a chance that we would have to turn around and dart back to Argentina. It was sad as both of us have been dreaming of Bolivia since we started this trip.

Because of the Dakar race getting back to Salta, Argentina from the Bolivian border (south of La Quica) was difficult as was getting out of Salta and across to Chile. We travelled for many hours in a cramped SUV to cross the desolate border of Chile/Argentina in the west and arrived in San Pedro de Atacama on January 4^th.

San Pedro, Chile was a pretty cool little tourist destination with a beautiful adobe/cactus church and an archeological museum founded by the town’s priest in the 1940’s. We had vegetables for the first time in many weeks (Argentina is famed for their steaks) and a nice, albeit expensive sleep. The town is overlooked by an impressive volcano and we were able to see quite a few of the pit crews for the Dakar teams.

We arrived in Arica, a surfer’s paradise, on the 6^th after another daunting overnight bus through the desert. However, Arica (a town bordering Peru) has turned out to be very nice. In the 1880’s a famous architect for Paris by the name of Eiffel stopped here long enough to build a beautiful church.And again we get to see the crew pits for the Dakar team’s storm though the city. We stayed at Tres Soles Hostel where the owner’s family has taken very good care of us and we FINALLY had a proper breakfast. So now I am sitting at that hostel waiting for breakfast number two!!!! Buffy is doing math and I am angry that now it’s my turn to be sick but looking forward to breakfast, Dakar, Peru and the next six weeks of our trip!

Office of Priest/Anthropologist of S.P de Atacama

Border of Argentina and Chile

Dakar Dudes

Church in Atacama

Eiffel's Chrurch

Driving (again) in Agentina

December 28, 2010

Only a few more days of the year left and we are living it up “Pura Vida” style in Argentina. We met some lovely Germans on a bus between Mendoza and Salta and decided to tempt fate once more and embarked upon a five day car journey in northern Argentina. The trip ended well after a few wrong turns and lots of empanadas. We ended the trip tonight with a little too much wine and cheap beer and a ton of laughter. Over all Buffy and I ended up with three new friends- all German, all Biologists and all super fun. So the recap on the last five days- Salta, Parque Nacional Los Cardones, Pierda del Molina, Cafayate  Parque  Nacional Calilegua, and  Humahuaca. It was a whirlwind of amazing and dramatic landscapes and more than our fair share of mosquito bites. Last night we stayed in Humahuaca a sweet little village on the border of Bolivia where everyone speaks a strange sort of Spanish and chews Coca leaves. Tomorrow we will board a bus (yet another bus!) to Bolivia and enter upon the most adventurous part of our journey- or so we have heard and hope.

 

December 20, 2010

The View From Our Hostel In Bariloche

We arrived in Bariloche on the 16^th and stayed there until yesterday (19^th) enjoying a much needed rest and hanging with friends. Louise ended up staying in the same hostels as we did and so we were able to enjoy actually having a friend for a few days. Yesterday we woke up late and made Pancakes, Danish style, and enjoyed a plethora of food, American style. Then we walked for an hour with our bags down the windswept streets of Bariloche to the bus station. There we boarded another bus to start our fifth overnight journey to a novel destination.

The bus ride from Bariloche to Mendoza was surprisingly comfortable but nothing can be comfortable for 17 hours. And so we awoke this morning and disembarked from our bus stretching and yawning and a little smelly. Now I am sitting in our home for the next 48 hours, Hostel Suites Mendoza, watching “The Big Bang Theory” and “Friends” and enjoying the language- English.

This week is Christmas and so we are planning on ‘camping-out’ in a hostel in Salta, Argentina for four days- our longest stay since El Calafate. Salta is supposed to be pretty interesting for adventure seekers as you can kayak, raft, hike, camp and horse bike ride at will. However, due to the holidays and the deterioration of funds we will be reading, snoozing, drinking lots of coffee and enjoying a break from tourism.

From Salta we will tread slowly to La Paz hopefully arriving by New Years Eve. Argentina has been, for us, a large, safe and familiar country and so, car problems aside, it has been relatively easy to travel. Over the next four weeks we will spend the majority of our time in Bolivia- South America’s poorest and most indigenous country. The warnings and stories we have heard from fellow travelers have been daunting but both of us want to experience the wonders and perils of Bolivia for ourselves.

Bolivia and Ecuador (and possibly Peru) will likely be the last countries we travel to on this trip, so it’s a little strange to think about. The last few weeks of this trip have been surprising in many ways…. Way One: We discovered we will be out of money in mid February instead of early May as we had originally expected. Way Two: we are not saddened/disappointed by this. Way Three: Both of us are extremely tired of living in hostels (not actually all that surprising). And so I write this blog not only to update and share with you our story but also because the story is going to come to a close sooner rather than later.

We have started to plan our exodus out of South America, which means we have also started to plan the next eight weeks. This is a sorta strange departure from our current and past lack of planning, which may explain our early exit. We think we will be headed back to the states in mid to late February leaving us about 9 weeks to travel and spend all of our money, a fairly easy feat. We could stay in South America longer if we both got jobs. However we have decided against this hoping to return in the next few years not as travelers but as contributors to the local economy, in a bigger and more sustainable way then we are currently.

Danish Pancakes

Bienvenidos a Argentina!

December 17, 2010

Today is Wednesday (well actually it's Friday but I wrote this on Wednesday) and the last forty eight hours have been a bit crazy. On Monday we saw Claire and Garnet off: they went to the Southern-most town in the world, while we turned back North towards summer.  Later that day, we walked up the hill to see the mechanic who was working on the car. He explained to us that the car part (fuel pump) had not arrived on Saturday. This explained why he had not been at the shop at the agreed time on Saturday- when we had expected we would get the car back. He further explained that he expected the part to arrive from Buenos Aires that evening (Monday) and that the car would be fixed and ready to go a few hours later. This, mind you, was all explained by a very nice interpreter, Gloria, on the phone while the mechanic talked into one phone and I talked into another Gloria explained what we each said. At one point I asked the mechanic how likely he thought it was the part would arrive that day and he shrugged and simply said; “this is Argentina, I don’t know”. Much to our surprise, when we returned that day around 6pm the car was fixed! We happily handed him a wad of Garnet’s money and drove off with our lovely running auto. This was all very lucky, timing wise, because as we were about to leave with the car, Gloria, our interpreter, explained; “and now the problem is that El Calafate is running out of gas and so you must go quickly to the petrol station and wait 1/2-1 hour to get gas or else you will be stuck here for a few days or more.” So Buffy and I raced to the pump and waited for a half hour to fill up. We went back to our hostel, made dinner and went to bed.

At the bottom of the world (El Calafate) the sun sets around 2200 or 2230 and rises at 0430 or 0500, this time of year, and it is never actually dark outside. Around 0200 the next morning, this eager and very tall girl barged into our hostel room, awakening us and asking if we were the girls driving to Bariloche, that morning, because she needed a ride. I calmly explained to her that we were those girls and we were leaving at 0800 and would be in the kitchen at 0700 and she could find us then and get a ride. She proceeded to tell us that it was very important she get a ride as she needed to see her boyfriend and she would have to hitch-hike and so on.  Finally, after a few minutes of this we convinced her to leave us alone and find us in the morning. In the morning, Karen (the tall girl of the night) found us and we drove to pick up our other passenger, Louise.  

So with a full tank we happily and excitedly left El Calafate. We were four girls: one Argentinean, Karen, of German decent who was a tour guide, traveler, quad-linguist and all-out life-enthusiast, and one Dane, Louise, also a multi-linguist, traveler and super chill girl. Of course there was also me and Buffy who between the two of us speak one language. We drove for an hour or so when Karen asked if we could stop and get hot water for her mate’ (a traditional Argentinean tea), and this is when we made our first mistake. We pulled into a gas station and got some snacks and hot water and drove off, without filling up our gas tank.  Normally, this would make sense, since we had only used a quarter tank.  However, unbeknownst to us, this was a big error.  We drove towards Rio Gallegos and then made a 90 degree turn, north, towards Comodora Rivadavia--what was supposed to be our stop for the night and the half-way point to Bariloche. About an hour out of Rio Gallegos we turned into a gas station, since at that point we had less than half a tank and we wanted to switch drivers. We pulled up to the pump and it said “no hay combustibles” (“there is no gas”) and so we walked into the station and asked where the next station was. There, a few travelers coming south who told us there was no gas “anywhere” north of there, and we should turn around and try to find fuel in Rio Gallegos. The station manager agreed and explained that someone was striking, shrugged and said “this is Argentina “and that no fuel had been delivered to the region for almost a week. He also said there was likely no fuel in Purto Bueno, the next town 140km further north. We discussed our options as a group and then decided to keep going north and hope a fuel truck had come by.

We arrived in Purto Bueno around 1300 and there was no fuel, but the manager told us that hopefully the truck would be there at 2100 that night. At this point, Karen, who had been doing all of our translation, decided she would try and hitch-hike to Puerto San Julian where it was said fuel could be found. She only had a few days to see her boyfriend and get back to El Calafate and so she was really in a hurry. The rest of us, meanwhile, sat and pondered our fate.  We had less than an eighth of a tank and we needed a fourth to get us to San Julian, where we could hopefully fill up the tank. Around 1430, Louise and I decided to walk 3 km into the town and see if we could buy some fuel off of a local. Buffy stayed with the car just in case the fuel trucks arrived. Very quickly we ran into a woman who gave us a ride to the city’s other gas station where two young men said there was no fuel and would be none as far as they knew. We kept walking and every time we ran into someone Louise would kindly state in Spanish; “Hello, how are you, we have a problem-we have no gas and need to get to San Julian.” The townsfolk would reply, “Oh that is very bad, I am sorry for you” or “welcome to Argentina” and shrug. We did this a few times before we walked into a motorcycle shop and there a very nice gentleman gave us 2.5 liters of fuel (all we needed was five to get to San Julian). He refused to accept money for the gas and wished us luck, so we kept walking.

Louise kept asking her above line of everyone we passed with no luck, until we walked into an auto sales store where a man helped us. Louise asked him if he could help us and at first he told us “Oh that is very bad luck” and “this is Argentina” and then he said a bunch of stuff we didn’t understand and rubbed Louise’s belly and so we started to walk out.  He stopped us and told us to wait a minute and then he took our container and siphoned (with his mouth) fuel out of two motorcycles into it. We thanked him profusely and then started to walk out but he told us he would give us a ride and we accepted. We rode the roughly 1 km back to the gas station while he explained what he did in town and how long he had lived there and that he liked Louise very much. Louise went into the station to get Buffy and the keys and I stayed outside with the gas drinker. Then, he told me that he liked my friend very much and that he had gas and could drive her around town and take her to dinner. I explained to him that he could not do these things but he just laughed. He was about to siphon the gas into our car for us but stopped and said we should wait a moment so Louise could see, because she would like it and he would be cool. Now, I can’t speak Spanish very well, but after living in New Mexico for 22 years I understand loads, and I kid you-not when I tell you he said: “we must wait for the cute girl because she will like this and I will be cool.” So we waited till Louise retuned and he siphoned the gas into the tank and he explained to us that we should drive slowly or we might not make it to San Julian.  He wished us luck and gave each of us a very big kiss on the cheek (common Argentinean tradition). We got into the car laughing because he was really a nice guy and helped us out a lot but we couldn’t figure out what the belly rub was for.

And off we went to San Julian…..

Once we arrived in San Julian (around 1800) we got into the gas line which numbered 47 vehicles in front of us (Not that I immediately knew how long the line was, but I had plenty of time to count later that night!). So we got into line behind a camper truck with a French family in it, who explained to us that they had been waiting in San Julian for three days and had heard the gas was going to be there at 2000 that night. At 2030, the line wrapped around the entire block and doubled back onto itself, but still there was no gas. At 2130, the gas attendants said the gas would be there soon, and at 2300 we took out our sleeping bags and started to get ready for bed. By that time, people had started to leave the queue, so Louise went and asked why and was told that people were going home and would be back the next day to try again. At 2400 we went to sleep (or, at least tried to sleep) in the car- in line. Around 0300 we all awoke to honking horns.  Gas, finally!?  No, false alarm.  We pulled up a mere three car spaces as a few more cars had given up, turned off the car and went back to bed. At 0600, I woke up and walked down to the station and asked at what time the gas would arrive; the attendant replied, shrugging, “at 0800 or 0900”. I went back to the car and ate some left-overs from the night and around 0630 horns started honking and a gas truck pulled in.

Around 0730 we were fueled and on the road, but Argentina still had no gas and so we drove slowly and efficiently. We filled up in every town we passed that had fuel, knowing that we could run out at any point and that would be the end of the line for us. We finished our day, driving about eight hours, in Sarmiento, a wind-swept town of dinosaur bones and petrified forests, passing on the way Argentina’s oil reserves.



This is Argentina





Our Tank



The Burning of Garnet’s Jacket: An addendum to “Perils of driving…”

Claire and Garnet read our last post about breaking down in Argentina, and they reminded us (well Claire did) that we left out one very amusing nuance of the trip: The burning of Garnet’s jacket.  Recall that the semitruck tugged us to the police checkpoint and dropped us off there.  The police checkpoint had a little three-room office for the police to do their paperwork, recover from the cold weather, eat meals, and use the restroom.  It was freezing cold out that night up on the hill, so the police let us wait in the office with them while we tried to figure out what to do.  It’s important to understand this scene from the perspective of the police to get the full humorous impact of the burning of Garnet’s jacket: four gringos, none of whom speaks Spanish, can’t start their car, and so had to get towed to the checkpoint.  The police were convinced that there was nothing wrong with the car and we had just run out of gas or were doing something else wrong. We know this not because we could understand what they were saying, but rather because they later attempted to start it for us about a dozen times and then drove Jynene and myself to the petrol station down the hill. We brought back two containers of gas and emptied them into our car with a long stick and a cut-up coke bottle. To their surprise, but not ours, the car still would not start. Furthermore, Garnet had been on and off the phone with the car rental company and insurance agency, so we hadn’t called a tow truck to take us into town yet, which would have been the most logical course of action for us to take from the perspective of the police. We know this fact as well because one of the police kept handing Jynene the number for the tow truck. In short, we looked like absolute bunglers. 

In the office there was a heater…..

This heater came about three feet off the ground against one wall of the office.  Jynene stood right in front of the heater because she was cold and wanted to warm up.  Claire went and stood next to her because she was also cold.  Garnet went next to them, but instead of standing in front of the heater, he sat on it.  The entire room started to smell like burned rubber and there were many comments about the stinky-ness of the room from the English speakers but we made no connection to us. The police officer started pointing and gesturing to the three near the heater, until finally Jynene figured out that Garnet was causing the smell because his jacket was melting onto the heater.  He stood up and had a gaping hole in the shell of the jacket with burned goose feathers falling off of him.  A huge clump of the rubber and feathers had stuck to the heater, so the room still smelled horribly until the police officer scraped it off with a knife laughing all the while.  Garnet immediately forgot about the hole in his jacket, and for the rest of the evening, walked around frantically trying to coordinate with the rental company, insurance agency, and tow truck pacing back and forth with a cloud of feathers trailing him.  He looked like he was pooping feathers. Claire meanwhile followed him and either tucked back his jacket or cleaned up the feathers he was dropping everywhere.  Jynene and I are cracking up right now with the memory of the scene.  Thanks, Garnet, for lightening up our evening with your absent-minded professorial ways.