In the End...an Epilogue

Montreal, PQ
August 4, 2009

In the end I arrived home on the morning of May 5th to warm reunions and loving arms. I was very glad to be home.

In the end I traveled for 110 days, through six countries. I'd spent in excess of 200 hours on board buses that brought me over the Andes from Chile to Argentina then back over the Andes from Uruguay to Paraguay, Bolivia and Peru.

In the end I chalked up countries #92, 93, 94, 95 and 96. And, yes, I do count.

In the end I spent $2,943.22 on accommodations for an average of $26.76 night, which included a five week stay in a fully furnished one bedroom apartment in an upscale neighborhood of Buenos Aires.

In the end I spent $2,406.58 on transportation for an average of $21.88 a day. This included the return flight from Montreal to South America, my flight to Easter Island, two internal flights and too-numerous-to-count buses, trains, taxis, metros and boats.

In the end I returned home with the equivalent of a month's salary in my checkbook, which just goes to show that travel doesn't have to cost and arm and a leg.

In the end I lost 15 pounds, all of which I've put back on.

In the end, despite the dire warnings of well-meaning people (OMG. You're going THERE? They kill you THERE. Be careful, Dan. I've read stories about THERE. It's very dangerous THERE.), I never had a single negative encounter. Oh, sure, there were a few jerks, but they're everywhere. When people try to remind me how dangerous it is to travel, I remind them that the only time I was ever robbed was in my own state, in my own country,and the only time I was ever physically accosted was in Canada.

In the end I did meet heaps of people, as I said I would at the opening of this blog. Our lives would intersect for a bus ride, a shared experience, a meal. People like Seth of Sacramento, a lawyer, who finally took his firm's offer of a six week sabbatical and who was spending two weeks in South America, two weeks in South Africa and two weeks in Israel. Or James and Jo and their two children who were spending the winter on Easter Island. Or, of Miki of Tokyo, who was in her 13th month traveling solo around the world at 20 and who spoke nothing but Japanese when she left home. Or Dan and Carla of North Carolina who, with their two children, sold everything, bought a boat, and were sailing, slowly, around the world. No sooner did we meet then we'd disperse, and in the end these people scattered to every continent on the globe

In the end I was exhausted and had reached that point in long trip where I just didn't care any more. I'd seen too much and was overstimulated. In the end it was time to go home.
In the end, no matter how far we travel, it is, cartographically, not much more than a sinuous scribble on a the map, a ribbon of road traveled. Despite what people say, it's not really a small world, especially when seen from the seat of a bus.

In the end, no matter how tired I was, I began plotting my next big get-away even before I'd gotten home. In the end, there are still four more countries to notch on the belt before I see #100. And I can tell you right now it won't be over at that point. I'm still just warming up.

In the end I was very glad to be home.

The Last Week: Arequipa and Colca Canyon

Plattsburgh, NY

July 26, 2009

By the end of April I was exhausted. After my phenomenal stay on Lake Titicaca, I sailed back to the Peruvian coastal city of Puno, caught a five hour bus to Arequipa and spent four wonderful, but tiring, days there, touring the city and surrounding countryside. But, I was overwhelmed and in visual and experiencial overload. I was surrounded by 20,000, snow-capped volcanoes, the weather were perfect: warm with a blistering, cloudless blue sky. The city center was an exceptional example of Colonial architecture (the Convent of Santa Catalina was one of the highlights of this very long trip. I spent two days in the Colca Canyon (one of the deepest in the world), with a great group of people, but I just didn't care anymore. (It was here, though, I had this photo snapped which one second prize in the Plattsburgh Press Republican's annual "Take the Press with you on Vacation" challenge. I really should hae one first prize!) It was time to call a halt to this trip.

So...instead of spending more time in the area and traveling on to Nazca to visit the geoglyphs there, I booked a flight to Lima where I would spend the last five days doing, essentially, as little as possible. This trip had come to an end and that was OK. I'd spent way too much time alone and I was tired of hotels and bad beds, so instead of booking myself into another hotel, I stayed my entire time in a hostel.

I'd forgotten how nice hostels can be. This one, located in the Miraflores area of Lima (an upscale neighborhood and very close to the ocean), was an old mansion that had been converted to hostel living. I was able to cook my own meals, talk to a wide variety of people, most of whom were just getting started on their journey, read and relax on the verandah. When I wanted to do something, which wasn't often, I'd explore the neighborhood, walk to the sea, or into the dirty city center. I'd seen Lima before and was satisfied with that visit. No need to see things twice.

I was quite happy to chill out. It was a long way from Buenos Aires to Lima, all done through an antipodal autumn, and I knew I'd return, so I didn't feel badly about this loss of interest.

On May 4th I spent a final day in the city, caught a taxi to the airport and boarded a late night Air Canada flight from Lima, in mid autumn, to Toronto and onwards to Montreal, touching down to early spring. All in an overnight

flight!

This trip was history!