Tyler Townley

No land on this Earth compares to that of where I was raised. I’m biased. I know it. I don’t care.

There is no where in my travels the past year which compares with this location. Mountains on either side of the city. Water lapping on both east and western shores. Green filling in the gaps where the blue has run out. No, nothing like it at all, for in the middle of all the natural beauty is the great city of Seattle.

Seattle is not great like Athens, Rome, London or Tokyo, but the city is home to a more modern inhabitant. The city is flush with progressives and free thinkers. Artists and craftsmen walk toe to toe with businessmen and outdoor enthusists. And no one seems to care. A thing of beauty.

There are some down sides to the area… I’m looking at you Bellevue and all the tight wads who live there! But in their own way, they remind me of what I hope to never become… So I guess they too serve their purpose, I just wish I didn’t have to see it on a daily basis.

One month in and still loving the friends I had left behind. The family who I never left but now feel more in tuned to. And am looking forward to all the good times in the near future that will come with an open mind and an adventurous spirit.

The desert has a kind way of reminding the self that we are not meant to live here. Its too hot during the day. Its too cold at night. But there are those who are born and buried there. Greg and I made our way to the driest desert in the world, the Atacama last week. We came in and unloaded from our bus and became intimately familiar with the taste of fine particles of dust deep down our throats.

Atacama was a unique place. The sun felt good on my shoulders, but I knew that it was dangerous out there in the rays after I was able to dry my laundy in about 15 minutes.

Our first day in town we oriented ourselves to the landscape, and booked some tours for the next day. Calling it a wrap we made our way back to our outpost on the edge of town.

Waking early the next morning we made our way into town where we picked up a couple of sandboards and slung them over our backs and trucked off into the unforgiving desert, mocking it as we road with enthusiasm along uninhabited back trails, kicking up dust behind us.

We gathered two travel companions along the way. As we were just leaving town, two dogs decided it would be a swell idea to follow us through the sun drenched rock and into the dunes. Yes, this would be their plan. I think they were either the most bored canines on the planet or the dumbest.

Out front, Greg and I with dogs and boards in tow, we slid off our bikes and tried to stash them out of the sun. Being that there is no shade in the desert this plan was quickly abandoned, for a memorable rock which we felt we could find again later that day.

Bikes be gone. Dogs carry on.

The trek across the loose sandy desert brings us to our first dune. Greg clamors to the top with enthusiasm. I equal his excitement and pull my camera from my pack to capture this glorious moment. He  straps his bindings and bunny hops to the edge of the decline. Nothing. He doesn’t even move slowly. He is frozen as if standing with no board at all. We both decide to make a move for higher ground.

20 minutes later the dogs had beaten us to the top of the hill and were panting the way I wish I could to cool down. Its only 9:00am but the sun beats down with fury enough to warrant no shirts and lots of sunblock.

Again Greg straps in. I unload my camera. The dogs watch with vigor for the first run of the morn. And hes off! Down the hill and yelling out with joy! The emptiness of the desert is suddenly overtaken with the reverberations of a young man as he exclaims exuberantly down the hillside. I wait my turn, but down have to wait long until I’m at it as well. A quick tarzan yell would not be enough time to encapsulate the duration of my joy. So again we decide that with our mastery of the minor decline that we would again trek to were the big boys play.

This time the dogs are the wiser. They do no follow.

Greg and I scout a path up the hill. We walk along the ridge of outcropping boulders, always careful to make sure our footing is not lost on the deep dunes which seem to fill our shoes with would be hitch hiking granules thousands at a time. About an hour or so later we make ‘summit’.

Exhausted we sit at the top and gaze across the valley floor. Then Greg’s up. A quick flick of one of his feet and he’s going down. A crowd of desert hikers stop along the ridge to watch our exploits. One aims his camera at Greg just as he goes down. The bindings zip open and the board is sailing down the slope on its own. I can hear the hikers as the exclaim “oh no! the board!”. Greg stops. His board continues. I start to tie my  shoelaces to the bindings to act as a leash.

I get up and zip down the hill. This run is much faster. The wax on the bottom of my board keeps my speed ever increasing as I whip down to the hikers. I stop near Greg and give him my board. He makes the final run down the hill. We both agree that the trek was well worth it, but only worth it one more time.

We make the arduous trek to the top again. This time it is much harder. Our pack is at the summit still from the last run, so we have to continue onward. I go down first this time. I make it to the edge of the run when Greg in turn follows down. At the bottom we agree that this desert thing is passe’ and we venture off to scrounge for our bikes.

We make a pact that we will first find a Coke then return the bikes and board. Hitting on this note, I want to take a quick diversion to thank Coca Cola for it’s in existence. The two most grueling days of my adventures (today in the desert and a month ago on the volcano hike) all I wanted was a  Coke. And both times I had one upon my return to civilization. Coke is the nectar of the gods… no doubt in my mind.

Our return to town, was indeed met with a Coke. I can’t wait for the next hallucinating visions which set me off envisioning Greg as a walking talking Coke can.

This is how I feel as I walk though town. Only there wouldn’t be a town without me… So, whats a gringo to do? Grin and bear it I guess. This glorious structure unbothered by the hand of man for hundreds of years, now rediscovered and everyone (rightfully) wants a piece. This among a handful of others with similar awe inspiring magnificence can claim to lure bi-peds from all over the globe. Who am I to think myself and more worthy of this experience than the fellow decked out in survival gear, one of those stupid ¨Aussie hats¨, a fanny pack, walking stick, binoculars and fifty pounds to loose? Even in my most sarcastic framing, I am his equal. Both of us vying for a glimpse of something special in this world which is no longer servant to the great explorers, but rather anyone with a visa card.

I guess I would like this blog to not only serve as a venue for my friends, family and fellow travel enthusiasts to share with my exploits. But, that it might bring about some knowledge for how to be a more knowledgeable traveler.

So, for the savvy traveler here´s how you too might get upgraded to business class.

I was booking my trip with Taca, a local Latin American based airline about two weeks ago, while I was in Colombia. While signing into their website I noted that they had asked me to join their frequent flyer program, with whom they shared partners in the US and Europe the likes of Luftansa. I thought I didn´t have much to loose by signing up, so I did. Nothing impressive. No rewards yet. Yet.

Come flying time I checked in early online and printed my own boarding pass. I noted that I was not given the option to print my boarding pass, which was a surprise, but I didn´t mind much. I printed it off and went about heading off to the airport the following morning bright and early.

I arrived at the airport and the check-in office had yet to open. I asked a fellow who was standing in line if I was in the correct line for my airline, he responded in kind that I was indeed in the right place. I then had about a half dozen Canadians and Americans come up to me and ask me if I was on my way to Cusco. I much like the gentleman before me, let them know they were in the correct area of the airport and that this was the line to be in.

Because of my willingness to ask a local, I became the first person in the line to Cusco. I let the others who had been at the airport before me (yet had omitted asking directions) ahead of me in line, they liked that very much. I checked my baggage and confirmed that I was getting my airline miles. The ticketer assured me that I was, and pointed me in the direction of my airport taxing fee.. (thanks for that by the way.)

I sat down and used the free wifi in the Lima airport and enjoyed my latest purchase of coffee and awaited my boarding time. About ten minutes previous to boarding time I was called from a crowd of about 200 to the check in counter. I was told that I was going to be upgraded to business class. I didn´t really understand all what she told me, but I understood that she crossed out my previous seat and handed me a new ticket with the seat assignment of ¨1D¨. I rather quickly put it together that there are no seats in airplanes higher than ¨1¨so I us be riding at the front of the plane.

Good deal.

So even though my plane touched down in Lima twice before we were given permission from ground control to land in Cusco, I was able to amuse myself with free everything and endless supplies of whatever I asked for.

To recap,

1. Sign up for Frequent flyer programs with your airlines.

It shows a commitment to them and in turn their willingness to bump you to the top of any waiting list (or in the case of over booking, to another class all together).

2. Travel / Book your tickets solo.

If there is only one opening in business class, the airline is more likely to select a single traveler rather than splitting up a couple from coach.

3. Check in online and within the prescribed timeline.

Checking yourself in early means that you are not going to be put on stand-by. And it might place you higher in the eyes of the ticketer making choices about who to bump up.

4. Check into the Gate early.

Same advice as before, it just continues to show that you are here and you want to fly.

All these factors coming together places your odds of being moved to a seat that reclines all the way back much higher. And although there is no guarantee any of this is true as it is all my speculation, it sure doesn´t hurt that it got me a comfortable seat for an eight hour journey. My ass thanks me at least.

What´s a lone gringo with poor Spanish skills to do in a touristy town like Cusco, Peru? Well the inflow of tourists means that most of the area near the town center is full of Peruvians hocking goods and services for outlandish rates, but they can speak English. So our Gringo could wander down the path of least resistance and take in the stagecraft Cusco has erected to fulfill its tourists desires before the trek off for the backpacker mecca of Machu Pichu.

Or, and this is a big ´or´

Our gringo could take the path less traveled… Which do you think this gringo is currently occupying his time with?

If you said eating Chinese food for dinner, working out in the local gym hidden in the far away hill suburbs and laughing over a bowl of soup with locals taking in a kung-fu movie, well, first of all, good guess.

Cusco has left me no option but to break out of my comfort zone and try to be one with the real population of Cusco. Save for one instance where I traveled to the main square in search of an ATM, I have not been back to ¨Gringoville¨ since. The first night I spent in Cusco, I enjoyed a huge plate of chicken and rice surrounded by other locals whom all seemed a little curious to how I came upon their dining establishment. I would nod in acknowledgement that I was out of my element, and they would send me a kind smile back, letting me know that I could hang with them, if only for the night. After filling up from a day which had left me famished from flying a route only described as ´nuts´ (Lima to Cusco, back to Lima then back to Cusco… but it was all first class… so no worries) I walked my way up the main drag to the largest Church in Cusco. I entered and noted that it was Sunday night and I decided I would take in the evening mass.

Not being religious in my own right, I made a conscious effort to sit near others so that  I might mimic their actions to better camouflage my ´outsiderness´. It went off without a hitch, and I was met with many a smile. I left thinking how I had really come into my own over the past couple of hours. Forced to meet and interact with locals, I was getting a keen sense of the land.

The following days provided smilier stories and similar outcomes. From lunch with police to dinner alone with the proprietor and his pizza wielding apprentice where I discussed (in the most liberal sense of the word) wildlife in Alaska. I was also fortunate enough to stumble into a locals only market. To be honest there was another traveler who came by to say hello to me and take my picture with the juice vendor I had befriended. I sat and spoke with the entirety of the juice vendors row, all of them took an interest in my love of the local fruits and each was eager to show me new and unknown consumables to me. Have you ever had eggfruit (not eggplant)? It tastes of Potatoes, but sweet like honey.

Last night was a venture down into the locals gym I had passed with my taxi driver two days earlier. It cost me three Soles to enter ($1) and I worked out to the tune of local radio and huffing and puffing of a die hard fitness fanatic whom made the rounds all over the gym. I was interrupted by the owner of the gym a couple of times as she wanted to show me the ´proper´way to adhear weights to her dumbbells, I knew exactly what to do, but she had hidden the fasteners behind her desk for some odd reason. Anyhow she smiled as she tried to mime the technique to me, I mimicked it back to her and her smile grew. After workout was more locals only dinner. Kids served me chicken, broccoli and rice until I could eat no more.

Basically these scattering of events are just evidence to myself that I as well as anyone can break from their understanding of their world and can expand it in new and exciting ways. If not for the chances we take, no new knowledge nor fun stories will be garnered. I was invited to come back to the gym this afternoon, so I´ll be making that voyage once more, and I´m not quite sure whats in store after that, but thats how I like it.

The Lone Ranger and Tonto, Lewis and Clark, Chip and Dale, famous duos made what they are by the fact that they were complemented by another richer half.

The due of Greg and Tyler is going to be put on the shelf for about a weeks time as Greg meets up with his buddy to hike the Inka Trail. I on the other hand have little for a plan once I reach Cusco. I elected about two weeks ago to purchase a ticket to Cusco from Lima in favor of a one hour plane ride to a +30 hour bus ride teetering on the edge of the Andes and most likely having me loose it in a bag once or twice along the way.

Its been great traveling with Greg. He is the mouth and I´ve been the eyes on this trip. Being in his company has meant a great deal to me and this trip would not be the same without his presence. It speaks greatly to the notion of friendship and the bonds that are tested on a trip where two souls break from one another for no more than 20 min in any given day. The company enriches experiences and gives a forum to which we can share our ideas and observations with one another. Having Greg along has allowed me to see and experience this trip through the eyes of two people not just one. And because I have been living the trip as two it will be an interesting week for me as I attempt to get by on my broken Spanish for the time being.

I was told many times before taking this trip that it would be best to do it as a due or a trio. Self travel seems to be rather tough on the people I´ve meet who are doing it, and the ones who have been going at it the longest have been traveling with partners for long stretches of their excursions. I would have to think that going it solo would be a life changing experience and the growth that one gains from such a trip would easily counter any negative to traveling alone.  If going solo there would be issues of loneliness and I would think that the only way to alleviate those feelings would be to break out from your current self and make new friends throughout your trek. Which sounds amazing, but I´m still happy I have Greg along to listen to me complain about taxis who honk excessively, counter capitalism and my inane questioning of obscure factoids.

Ive been discussing with Greg the idea of traveling more in the fashion we´ve grown accustomed to on this trip. He says that he´s  through with this style of travel and wants to continue to see the world, but under the stipulation that all l his hotel rooms will be cockroach free and hot water will not be a make or break factor in deciding on a hostel. I have to agree that I would think I might tire of this kind of life if I were to live it for the next year or two (don´t worry Mom and Dad,  its not going to happen) but it does raise a good point about what kind of traveler you are and what kind of traveler you would like to evolve into. Both Greg and I agree that this trip and its misgivings will make us much stronger travelers in the future and will provide us with a framework which aids in our appreciation of luxury items, you know like clean forks, complementary hotel towels and climate controlled buses. Again both Greg and I agree that these are the elements which make this kind of travel amazing and garner richness in our tour. They are the factors that contribute to our seeing and experiencing what we have on this trip and I for one am not looking to rid myself of these experiences just yet. And on that note I´m going to walk myself up to my hostel bed and fall asleep knowing that there are plenty of hot showers to be appreciated later throughout my life, but for now, I’m content with tepid temperatures.

Living like a king, I am not. Living better than I have any other time on this trip, I am.

Greg and I have found ourselves the happy recipients of a more than fair exchange rate in Peru. One which has found us traveling for little and basically only getting ripped off at the border by taxi drivers who want to charge us fares higher than what we pay for dinner here in the city. Breakfast is about the only thing we both splurge on. Indulging ourselves in mammoth sized portions of eggs, hash browns, toast, bacon, ham, veggies, coffee and juice, juice and more juice. Freshly made juice from pineapples, strawberries, peaches and plenty of other fruits I have yet to find translations for. All of which have been, how can I put this modestly? They have been incomparably delicious  (modest I am not) (Yoda sounding I am).

We´re staying in a hotel which offers us our own bathroom, hot water, TV (with HBO) and four beds, two each respectfully split between Greg and I. We also are the only guests on our shared balcony, I have a sneaky feeling we are getting a better deal than our hotel managers would like to bestow upon us, but thats their problem and not ours. Besides we spend all the extra cash at the breakfast place adjacent to our hotel, so I´m sure someones benefiting from it all!

The town where in (Trujillo) is of decent size and the population seems to find Greg and I something of an oddity. We are treated well and have been stopped by numerous people on the street and stared at by many more. Last night was a pizza cooked for us by a staff of four (we were the only ones in the entire place, normally a bad sign, but this time around it proved to be that we were catered to with special attention). This was not to last however as we both decided it best to order the largest pizza we could get off the menu then return to our princely estate and use one of the four beds as a table to dine on our circular Italian dinner.

25 years, 10 months and 9 days but I finally did it. With much less effort than previously thought I straddled the line between the Northern and Southern Hemisphere. I crossed the barer and transcended the equator many times in the span of about a minute or two. Jumping madly over the line painted on the ground at an Ecuadorian monument to great dividing line.

I have yet to check if the toilets now spin opposite to the way I know and love… And I did not weigh myself to see if I in fact weigh a little less closer to the equator as my guide book informs me that I do. But I am glad to cross this line as it is significant to me in symbol only. It means that I as a traveler have now crossed a line that many people throughout their lives are never able to cross. Traveling as much as Greg and I have in the short time of just little over a month is more than many are able to experience in their lives. And I feel very grateful that I am afforded this opportunity to see the world and gain some better understanding of the planet I share with over six billion other souls.