I took my bike to Navy Pier Thurs. night to see Cirque Shanghai at the Skyline Theater. It was the first time I’d hit the lakefront path this summer heading south.
I’d planned to bike to work this summer… once I got caught up after my Peru trip, hit my big work deadline and the intense heat and humidity passed. But as any Chicagoan knows the weather forecasters are as likely wrong as right and circumstances will never be perfect. We just have to get out there and do our thing anyways.
At my Montrose starting point, there is a lot of park between Lake Shore Drive and Lake Michigan and a lot of paths, paved and unpaved. But as you head south, the lake waters get closer to the drive and funnel all park-goers and -doers into a narrow concrete band.
It’s a chaotic mix of joggers, walkers, bikers, bladers and sunbathers when you reach North Avenue Beach. Many seem blissfully unaware that anyone else is using the path - or of any conventions or courtesies for sharing roads, such as staying to the right and allowing others to pass on the left.
I wonder how many collisions, injuries or other troubles occur on this path on an average summer day - and who keeps track of such things. Chicago Magazine, for starters: http://www.chicagomag.com/Chicago-Magazine/June-2009/Lake-Advisory/
Some people point out that it is the Chicago LAKEFRONT Path not Bicycle Path. But the painted images of bicycles on the paved path along the drive with dashed-yellow-line (like a road) suggest otherwise.
Bike Chicago, which rents bikes including 4-person big rigs seen along the lakefront, says Chicago’s lakefront is a “biking paradise.” And this site applauds the city’s great 18-mile bike trail: http://www.great-trails.com/lakefront.shtml .
Bike Chicago also organizes tours including one of President Obama’s ‘hood with sights such as the Osaka gardens, DuSable Museum and Frank Lloyd Wright’s Robie House as well as the Obamas’ home and the place Barack and Michelle had their first kiss (who could resist that?): http://www.bikechicago.com/tours/
“No swimming after 7.”
As I biked between Fullerton and North avenues I heard a booming male voice over the speaker system say the beach was closed. No swimming after 7:00 p.m., it said, but feel free to come back tomorrow when the beach re-opens at 11:00 a.m. Wait, huh?!
There are thousands of people out and dozens in the water getting much-needed exercise and fresh air --- and the park district is forcing them onto dry land - when it’s still in the upper 80’s and humid?!
It is true, according to the Chicago Park District beach site -http://www.chicagoparkdistrict.com/resources/beaches/ - it says: “Starting this season swimming is allowed at beaches from 11:00 a.m. to 7:00 p.m. unless otherwise posted.”
According to the site, Montrose and 5 other beaches open early, at 9:30 a.m. The others are: Leone, North Avenue, 31st Street, 63rd Street, South Shore and Calumet. My guess is lifeguard hours were cut to save money due to budget shortfalls - but it seems harsh to have our already short summers and summer activities cut even shorter.
I pedaled along.
A woman walked a tiny dog, barely visible in the dimming light as it weaved back and forth. Adults with kids walked in the middle or on the wrong (their left) side of the path. Bikers talked – even texted – on cell phones with no hands on their brakes despite the crowds and congestion. It seemed like one accident-waiting-to-happen after another.
The ferris wheel at the pier came into view as I rounded the curve of LSD, pleased to have navigated successfully and safely through the crazy crowds. I was trying to count the neon-capped lap swimmers near Oak Street Beach as a gray-haired biker approached. As he zoomed by, he called out “On your left, babe.”
Thanks for the heads up, dude, but skip the nickname next time. Let’s leave it at left.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Friday, June 19, 2009
Machu Picchu calling
Sun shining in the window of seat 2F warms my legs and toes. I settle in to the wide leather seat on American flight 757 to Miami with my book, journal and itinerary. Gingerale and warm mixed nuts appear at my side, brought by a smiling attendant, who offers earphones for the movie.
Our flight is delayed out of O’Hare as they fix some switch or something in the cockpit, which might bother me if I were an anxious traveler. But I am not.
It’s the start of a 2-week trip to the Andes Mountains and Amazon Jungle. I brought more pharmaceuticals than I’ve ever had in my house at one time, got geared up for all conditions, walked many flights of stairs, read travel books and real-life stories of Peruvian explorers and missionaries, took camera classes and practiced Spanish.
I planned this much-anticipated trip with surprisingly little input from my husband, who sits beside me reading a sci fi novel. He is already in vacation mode, and we haven’t left the city. This is the way to go international... but you have to book early and I booked this in December.
Machu Picchu beckoned. So did the historic and still-used Inca Trail that would take us there. Hiking 4 days in mountains and through cloud forests created a powerful mixture of physical challenge and natural beauty I could not resist. It’s also a spiritual connection with the earth – or "pachamama" to the native Quechua - that at times I struggle to feel in so-urban Chicago.
The trail showed Inca life, past and present. Some locals that live by the trail set up rest areas where they sell water, Gatorade and sometimes "chicha,"a corn-based brew women make by chewing the grain to help ferment it (saliva helps break it down). Locals take llamas along the trail and carry mantas (tablecloths) with goods, food and children slung onto their backs.
Ruins and terracing lie all along the trail and more are still being discovered, or UN-covered. It is hard to fathom how such huge rocks - on such high mountains -could be so perfectly carved and fitted together even using today's tools and technology.
The topography changed from dry desert with eucalyptus trees like in Southern California to gracefully flowing grasses like in the American plains to mosses and molds like in Ireland or other boggy areas to the magical cloud forest on our way to camp the 2nd night, where I enjoyed the most beautiful sunset - and the briefest moon rise and set - from my tent.
Machu Picchu was the destination that the journey made all the sweeter. It was a stroke of luck that trains from Cuzco were not running the day we got there (due to worker strikes). We had this wonder of the world practically to ourselves, with busses departing every 5-10 minutes to take us back to hot showers and civilization, in the nearby town of Aguas Calientes.
It was a disparate trip in many ways. Luckily, I like contrasts and contradictions.
For starters, flying first class to go camping, where for 3 nights we would sleep on the cold, hard ground (wearing winter hats to stay warm), be unable to bathe, wake before the sun and relieve ourselves in outhouses that were simply holes in the ground with walls around them.
Even in cities we visited, if bathrooms had flush toilets we would often need our own toilet paper. If there was running water, we still needed to sanitize our hands and boil, purify or buy water to use or drink. No problem: I was armed with wet wipes, tissues and sanitizer.
The people and accommodations may have been smaller and simpler than North American standards, but there was a warmth and ease with our hoteliers, hosts and guides that felt distinctly South American.
Los Ninos Hotel in Cuzco, http://www.ninoshotel.com/ was where we stayed before and after the Inca Trail. With hotel proceeds, the owner provides food, education and medical care to more than 500 kids, for whom we collected and brought clothes, school supplies and toys. We met a few of the kids, some young and some grown up, during our tour of nearby facilities.
The hotel staff brought us coca tea, which helps reduce altitude sickness, in the lovely courtyard and put us in a room by 9 a.m. at no extra charge. They stored our luggage while we were on the trail and paid for our laundry that was dropped off while we were out at dinner after the trail.
Textiles, jewelry and other goods sold on side streets, sidewalks and small stores were well-made, often by hand, and remarkably cheap. Converting Nuevo Soles to dollars did not help us comprehend or bridge the financial gap between local Peruvians and ourselves.
A suggested tip on the trail was 30 Soles, about $10, for 4 days of hard work for the porters who, though small in stature and some wearing sandals, lugged all our gear and camp supplies up and down the trails – leaving us in the dust and in awe -as they did so. We tipped more than 100 Soles, but we still wondered if it was fair.
Heroically called chaskies after the traditional messengers that ran from village to village, they set up camp before we hauled our butts and legs in at dusk and brought bowls of warm water, soap and clean towels to our tents. They also delivered hot coca tea to our tents for our morning wake-up calls, asking if we wanted sugar, one spoon or two.
Just-popped popcorn and six-course nightly meals included fresh soups, vegetables, eggs, rice, pasta and meat dishes. We had breakfast, snacks and lunch along the trail, usually in a big blue tent at a long table with stools (also carried by chaskies on the trail) that fit 16 of us plus super-guide Saul and his sidekick for this trip Eder of SAS Travel Peru, www.sastravelperu.com/ .
The disparity continued in the Amazon Jungle, which we visited via Tambopata Nature Reserve. We flew from Cuzco to Puerto Maldonado, which was surrounded by brown mud roads, faded houses and all conceivable types and shapes of green foliage.
For a place so teaming with plant and animal life, the soil was a surprising reddish-brown color and clay-like texture and filled the rivers, including the Tambopata River we boated to our eco-lodge, Refugio Amazonas, http://www.perunature.com/ .
The lodge only uses a generator from 5 to 9 p.m. each day and has no exterior walls, so it’s open for people, birds and animals to commingle at will. A bat circled the lodge as we sat at the bar, considering which fruity drink to ask our friendly bartender Fernando for next.
Despite the simplicity and lack of electricity, the lodge and guest rooms were elegant and comfy and nightly room service included pulling mosquito nets down around each bed and lighting the 3 oil lamps that lined the exterior wall along the corridor. Rooms had curtains in place of doors.
Frogs frequented the guest bathrooms and all kinds of crazy bird calls could be heard from our open-ended rooms (open to the jungle on the far side), giving visual but not audio privacy that we were used to at this point in our trip. Most critters stayed in the forest and entertained us from a distance.
We walked through mud sporting Wellington boots provided by the lodge and – surprise!? – it rains a lot in the rainforest! Here 4 a.m. was a popular wake-up time – to see the critters. I got a massage before I turned in one night at 9 p.m. (when the power goes off ) – another nice luxury.
Our last night was in Lima, hub for international flights. Our visit was very short – about 12 hours – and very sweet - we got Swiss chocolates from our luxury taxi driver and chocolate-covered strawberries in our rooms at the 5-star Swissotel.
We had food and drinks on the executive club level and the only sightseeing we did was from our hotel rooms. A wonderful way to return to reality. Can you blame us for not wanting to leave?
I could not resist a giant bubble bath. I basked in the luxury, cleaned jungle mud and trail dirt from nails and hair - and reflected on a trip well done. Months of planning paid off, we had everything we needed, stayed mostly healthy, got around and along well, used our Spanish, hiked the Inca Trail and in the Amazon Jungle – and had an amazing time!
As we soaked in the tub, with bubbles halfway to the ceiling, my husband asked "Is this what you had in mind (when I proposed in a bathtub 12 years earlier)?" I replied: "Exactly..."
Our flight is delayed out of O’Hare as they fix some switch or something in the cockpit, which might bother me if I were an anxious traveler. But I am not.
It’s the start of a 2-week trip to the Andes Mountains and Amazon Jungle. I brought more pharmaceuticals than I’ve ever had in my house at one time, got geared up for all conditions, walked many flights of stairs, read travel books and real-life stories of Peruvian explorers and missionaries, took camera classes and practiced Spanish.
I planned this much-anticipated trip with surprisingly little input from my husband, who sits beside me reading a sci fi novel. He is already in vacation mode, and we haven’t left the city. This is the way to go international... but you have to book early and I booked this in December.
Machu Picchu beckoned. So did the historic and still-used Inca Trail that would take us there. Hiking 4 days in mountains and through cloud forests created a powerful mixture of physical challenge and natural beauty I could not resist. It’s also a spiritual connection with the earth – or "pachamama" to the native Quechua - that at times I struggle to feel in so-urban Chicago.
The trail showed Inca life, past and present. Some locals that live by the trail set up rest areas where they sell water, Gatorade and sometimes "chicha,"a corn-based brew women make by chewing the grain to help ferment it (saliva helps break it down). Locals take llamas along the trail and carry mantas (tablecloths) with goods, food and children slung onto their backs.
Ruins and terracing lie all along the trail and more are still being discovered, or UN-covered. It is hard to fathom how such huge rocks - on such high mountains -could be so perfectly carved and fitted together even using today's tools and technology.
The topography changed from dry desert with eucalyptus trees like in Southern California to gracefully flowing grasses like in the American plains to mosses and molds like in Ireland or other boggy areas to the magical cloud forest on our way to camp the 2nd night, where I enjoyed the most beautiful sunset - and the briefest moon rise and set - from my tent.
Machu Picchu was the destination that the journey made all the sweeter. It was a stroke of luck that trains from Cuzco were not running the day we got there (due to worker strikes). We had this wonder of the world practically to ourselves, with busses departing every 5-10 minutes to take us back to hot showers and civilization, in the nearby town of Aguas Calientes.
It was a disparate trip in many ways. Luckily, I like contrasts and contradictions.
For starters, flying first class to go camping, where for 3 nights we would sleep on the cold, hard ground (wearing winter hats to stay warm), be unable to bathe, wake before the sun and relieve ourselves in outhouses that were simply holes in the ground with walls around them.
Even in cities we visited, if bathrooms had flush toilets we would often need our own toilet paper. If there was running water, we still needed to sanitize our hands and boil, purify or buy water to use or drink. No problem: I was armed with wet wipes, tissues and sanitizer.
The people and accommodations may have been smaller and simpler than North American standards, but there was a warmth and ease with our hoteliers, hosts and guides that felt distinctly South American.
Los Ninos Hotel in Cuzco, http://www.ninoshotel.com/ was where we stayed before and after the Inca Trail. With hotel proceeds, the owner provides food, education and medical care to more than 500 kids, for whom we collected and brought clothes, school supplies and toys. We met a few of the kids, some young and some grown up, during our tour of nearby facilities.
The hotel staff brought us coca tea, which helps reduce altitude sickness, in the lovely courtyard and put us in a room by 9 a.m. at no extra charge. They stored our luggage while we were on the trail and paid for our laundry that was dropped off while we were out at dinner after the trail.
Textiles, jewelry and other goods sold on side streets, sidewalks and small stores were well-made, often by hand, and remarkably cheap. Converting Nuevo Soles to dollars did not help us comprehend or bridge the financial gap between local Peruvians and ourselves.
A suggested tip on the trail was 30 Soles, about $10, for 4 days of hard work for the porters who, though small in stature and some wearing sandals, lugged all our gear and camp supplies up and down the trails – leaving us in the dust and in awe -as they did so. We tipped more than 100 Soles, but we still wondered if it was fair.
Heroically called chaskies after the traditional messengers that ran from village to village, they set up camp before we hauled our butts and legs in at dusk and brought bowls of warm water, soap and clean towels to our tents. They also delivered hot coca tea to our tents for our morning wake-up calls, asking if we wanted sugar, one spoon or two.
Just-popped popcorn and six-course nightly meals included fresh soups, vegetables, eggs, rice, pasta and meat dishes. We had breakfast, snacks and lunch along the trail, usually in a big blue tent at a long table with stools (also carried by chaskies on the trail) that fit 16 of us plus super-guide Saul and his sidekick for this trip Eder of SAS Travel Peru, www.sastravelperu.com/ .
The disparity continued in the Amazon Jungle, which we visited via Tambopata Nature Reserve. We flew from Cuzco to Puerto Maldonado, which was surrounded by brown mud roads, faded houses and all conceivable types and shapes of green foliage.
For a place so teaming with plant and animal life, the soil was a surprising reddish-brown color and clay-like texture and filled the rivers, including the Tambopata River we boated to our eco-lodge, Refugio Amazonas, http://www.perunature.com/ .
The lodge only uses a generator from 5 to 9 p.m. each day and has no exterior walls, so it’s open for people, birds and animals to commingle at will. A bat circled the lodge as we sat at the bar, considering which fruity drink to ask our friendly bartender Fernando for next.
Despite the simplicity and lack of electricity, the lodge and guest rooms were elegant and comfy and nightly room service included pulling mosquito nets down around each bed and lighting the 3 oil lamps that lined the exterior wall along the corridor. Rooms had curtains in place of doors.
Frogs frequented the guest bathrooms and all kinds of crazy bird calls could be heard from our open-ended rooms (open to the jungle on the far side), giving visual but not audio privacy that we were used to at this point in our trip. Most critters stayed in the forest and entertained us from a distance.
We walked through mud sporting Wellington boots provided by the lodge and – surprise!? – it rains a lot in the rainforest! Here 4 a.m. was a popular wake-up time – to see the critters. I got a massage before I turned in one night at 9 p.m. (when the power goes off ) – another nice luxury.
Our last night was in Lima, hub for international flights. Our visit was very short – about 12 hours – and very sweet - we got Swiss chocolates from our luxury taxi driver and chocolate-covered strawberries in our rooms at the 5-star Swissotel.
We had food and drinks on the executive club level and the only sightseeing we did was from our hotel rooms. A wonderful way to return to reality. Can you blame us for not wanting to leave?
I could not resist a giant bubble bath. I basked in the luxury, cleaned jungle mud and trail dirt from nails and hair - and reflected on a trip well done. Months of planning paid off, we had everything we needed, stayed mostly healthy, got around and along well, used our Spanish, hiked the Inca Trail and in the Amazon Jungle – and had an amazing time!
As we soaked in the tub, with bubbles halfway to the ceiling, my husband asked "Is this what you had in mind (when I proposed in a bathtub 12 years earlier)?" I replied: "Exactly..."
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