Nous voila Arriver a Cochabamba, notre destination pour les prochains mois. D’abord, permettez moi de vous raconter nos derniers jours depuis le Machu Picchu. Nous sommes donc partis en direction de Puno qui est l’endroit d’ou partent d’une part les tours pour le lac TITIKAKA mais egalement les bus pour la Bolivie.
7 heures de bus pour y parvenir et la j’ai decouvert ce que c’est que de rester enferme 7 heures dans un bus sans 1 seul arret!!! Apres 7 heures nous arrivons le soir a Puno , filons dans l hotel que nous avions reserver depuis la France et partons manger un truc dans un des milliers des restos a touristes environnant. Nous n’avons pas vus grand chose de Puno puisque nous repartions le lendemain pour une autre sessions de 10 heure de bus cette fois pour partir a La PAZ avec un arret d'une heure.
Le bus pour La Paz se divise en deux sections, d’abord nous roulons environs 3 heures pour arriver a la fontiere bolivienne. une heure d’arret le temps de faire les papiers etc. deux heures plus tard nous arrivons une a pseudo station balneaire appeler Copacabana, le vrai Copacabana se trouve au bresil. Celui ci n’a rien a voir, rien de vraiment interessant non plus a part le fait d’etre au bord du fameux lac. Trois quatre photo, on mange rapidos et c’est deja l’heure de remonter dans le bus.
4 heure de Bus plus tard et nous voila arriver la La PAZ ou nous sommes suposer rester une nuit pour partir pour Cochabamba le lendemain.
La Paz est une ville a la fois en bas et a flanc de montagne, ville enorme, la Capital de la Bolivie. Le centre ville ou notre hotel se trouvait ressemble a la rue de rivoli a 6 heure de l apres midi en semaine, blindee de gens, bagnole, bus…
La nous avons pu nous rendre compte des differences entre les boliviens et nous. D’abord bien qu'etant un pays pauvre, partout, absolument partout on l’on va, il y a a manger. Beaucoup de poulet frit. La Panitas (beignet moitie patate, moitie poulet)et disponible a tous moment, bien sur nous avons gouter, pas mauvais mais horrible pour la ligne.
Les voitures klaxonne tous le temps, les rues sont dans un piteuse etat (trottoir et chaussee). Il y a une ambiance assez speciale, tres…Porte de la chapelle, les gens crie, se bousculent mais tous ca avec un fond d’organisation due au policier qui font office de feu rouges et dirigent les gens en troupeau. Annabelle et moi avons certes etes frapper par ces differences mais c est plutot marrant. De toutes facons dans ce genre d endroit soit tu panique, soit tu fait comme tous le monde et tous se passe bien. C est ce que nous avons decider de faire et en effet, tous s'est bien passer.
Un peu plus tard dans la soiree nous avions rendez vous avec des amis rencontrer lors de passage du Perou en Bolivie.
Petite histoire marrante au sujet de ces gens, a un moment dans le bus vers la Paz, le bus s arrrete pres d’une rive du lac dans un endroit qui ressemble a un petit port et le chauffeur dit un truc en espagnole que nous ne comprenons pas. Cependant tous le monde semble descendre du bus. Je dit a Annabelle, reste la, je vais voir ce qu’il se passe. La je vois tous le monde faisant la queue devant une petite guerite sur laquelle il y a une photo d'un bateau et apparement 1,50 bolivanos a payer.
Je crois donc comprendre que nous allons faire un petit tour en bateau (truc a touriste) mais Annabelle et moi n’ayant pas un sous a ce moment la et pas de machine pour retirer de l'argent je me dit que nous allons juste attendre que les autres reviennent.
En revenant vers le bus, je le voit qui est entrain de bouger et se dirige vers la berge!!! Et la je vois une sorte de radeau de fortune, long…comme un bus…pres a acceuillir ce dernier. PANIQUE!!! La tous prend forme, il ne s’agit pas d'un truc a touristes mais d une traverser obligatoire et tous les passagers sont invites a descendre du bus et pendre ces petites navettes pendant que le bus traverse sur ces…trucs en bois.
Je cours a droite a gauche pour retrouver Annabelle qui a priori etait encore dans le bus et la je la voit me cherchant aussi…
Cependant, une fois tous les deux, nous n'avons toujours pas de quoi payer le trajet, et c’est la que nos nouveaux amis entres en jeux.
Au debut nous demandons a ces deux nanas australiennes qui n avaient pas assez pour nous filer des sous ( elles avait compris que nous leurs demandions 150 bolivianos au lieu de 1.50) puis devant elles deux hollandais qui nous filent sans broncher 3 b. Pour infos, 1 boliviano = 0.10 Euros.
C’est ainsi que nous avons fait tous connaissance et nous sommes retrouver tous les six le soir a la Paz pour boire un verre, manger un morceau et profitter un peu de la ville
C’est d’ailleurs suite a cette soiree que notre deuxieme jours aller se programmer. Tania, Australienne de 34 ans amene cette idée original de descendre “the most dangerous road” en VTT. Un truc apparement assez populaire aupres des touristes aimant le sensations. Pour info, en Bolivie se situe la route la plus dangereuse du monde (ou l'une d'entre elles). Il s’agit d’une route a flanc de montagne, uniquement en terre et cailloux et debutant a 4700 metres de haut pour finir a 1800 metre et 70 kilometres plus loin dans une ville appelee Coroico et qui propose pour finir la descente en velo (5 heures quand meme) de se taper 3 tiroliennes perchees a 250 metres de haut..
Le Mieux c est de le voir en image:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aQC2Ms-lrVs&feature=related
Bref une aventure plutot sympa mais quelque peu dangereuse. Apparement cette route serait l’une de trois plus mortelle au monde du au fait qu en cas de sortie de route, la descente et d’environs 200 metres en moyenne avant de toucher quelque chose! 600 metres pour la...chutte la plus haute et quand on est au bord de la route...c'est un peu engoissant.
Donc voila ce que nous avons decider de faire tous ensemble a l exeption d’Annabelle qui n etait pas sur un velo mais dans le bus qui suit le convoi! ( apres descendre faut bien remonter)
Blian retour sur La PAZ a 22 heures, juste assez de temps pour diner, faire la fete dans un bar Boliviens et DODO car le lendemain, depart pour Cochabamba et L’orphelinat!!!
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Friday, 29 October 2010
Tuesday, 26 October 2010
A Prayer to Murphy, the Patron Saint of All Going Wrong that Can.
Oh Murphy who art in textbooks and all kinds of blogs, cursed be thy name,
I know your laws dictate that everything that can go wrong will, but this prayer is to ask for reprieve. When our flight to Madrid was canceled last minute due to strikes, our courage didn't waver. We booked new ones (at an astronomical price,) and crossed our fingers they would leave in time for us to make our hotel in Madrid and the next day, our flights to South America. When that flight was delayed and added a stop over in Milan, we thanked you for the opportunity to run like dogs in order to be able to catch our connecting flight to Madrid by the skin of our teeth. When we made it and checked into our hotel, we thought that the divine interventions we were granted from you had ceased. We bunkered down for the night and woke up to a wonderful room service breakfast and turned on the telly (as one is wont to do when eating breakfast in bed.) Nicolas and I spoke of our excitement to take off to Peru in a few hours and land in Cusco. It was then you reminded us of your omniscience and presence in all things variable. As if it were your own voice, Anderson Cooper personified you Saint Murphy and told us that Cusco had recently flooded. 25 houses had been destroyed by unusual, heavy rainfall that had caused flooding in Cusco and other parts of the region. This didn't dissuade us from going and if this was your intention, oh holy saint, you should have opted for an earthquake but perhaps this was beyond your power. After all, if it CAN go wrong, it will states your law. If the tectonic plates are not ready to shift, you'd have to send a quick text over to your boss, God, or Mother Nature or whomever you report to in order to give the plates a little nudge before you could work your magic on them. You did do a good job however when I learned that on our flight from Madrid to Bogota (first lay over) we would be adding another stop in Cali for technical reasons making what was 20 hours of travel now a nice round 24. But dearest Saint Murphy who is normally so undiscriminating with his catastrophes and inconveniences, I can't help but feel that you are taking the piss just a little bit when you manage to get us placed dead in the middle of four babies who (of course) screamed the whole way from Madrid to Bogota. 10 solid hours. At least we had it in stereo as not to wear one ear more than the other. We are now in the airport at Lima awaiting our last plane to Cusco. It is 10:00 am Paris time and 3:00 am Peru time. We are exhausted. Your constant cameos along the lengths of our journey have made us feel blessed by knowing your presence, but GIVE US A BREAK! We have to wait in the airport until 5:10 am when our last flight boards and I'm going to try to get a bit of sleep on a chair in the airport lounge. As I mentioned at the beginning of this prayer, a bit of reprieve would be welcome, so don't send us any robbers to come and grab our stuff, don't delay our last plane, or see that it's cancelled. No more strikes, no more floods and no more rude stewardesses that say “Ju didn't order begetarian meal. I have no record of dat okay?” In the name of travelers everywhere, Amen.
Even after I offered up this prayer, Murphy continued to pester us. One lost credit card later, we finally had the reprieve we so desperately wanted. We arrived in Cusco and checked into a hostel with an amazing view and made the necessary plans to visit the Machu Picchu the next day. We booked a two day adventure that was simply spectacular. Although the unplanned last minute flight that we had to book basically ruined us financially, we HAD to do the Machu Picchu. We hadn't come all that way not to. We didn't regret it and it was truly breathtaking. There's photos on FB.
After Cusco, we took a bus to Puno where we stayed a night and from there, our bus to La Paz in Bolivia where we stopped an hour at the Lake Titicaca and actually had to cross a bit of it by boat to get to La Paz. Border control was something peculiar as it consisted of stopping at what could have easily been a truck stop as opposed to a border crossing, presenting our passports to a guy sitting in just some random chair behind a desk that looked like it had been purchased at the Salvation Army. His official border controller uniform? A beat up, old Abercrombie and Fitch hoodie and a pair of jeans. His reaction when he saw my passport was that of all the people that have seen my passport here so far. “Hey! Canada! Yes!”
Okay, I thought. I guess it's better to be well liked than the contrary as the woman behind me was American and the sight of her passport invoked a sneer from the hooded government worker. Anyway, we walked out of Peru and into Bolivia where things became even less expensive than they were in Peru. This was good news for us. For both of us to eat in a restaurant that is not too touristy, but still looks trustworthy was 100 Bolivianos. 10 Euros. We had a cocktail, a starter, a main dish and a desert for 5 euros each. Unreal.
It's 8 o'clock in the morning here now on our second day in Bolivia and the holiday part of our adventure is quickly coming to a close. We have one or two more days in La Paz before we take the seven hour bus ride to Cochabamba where we will be picked up by a couple who works in the orphanage. We will then be nine to fivers for the next long while. Will update all readers (that makes it sound like we have a lot,) on our new “jobs” as soon as possible. We miss all of you and hope to recount many more adventures in posts to come!
I know your laws dictate that everything that can go wrong will, but this prayer is to ask for reprieve. When our flight to Madrid was canceled last minute due to strikes, our courage didn't waver. We booked new ones (at an astronomical price,) and crossed our fingers they would leave in time for us to make our hotel in Madrid and the next day, our flights to South America. When that flight was delayed and added a stop over in Milan, we thanked you for the opportunity to run like dogs in order to be able to catch our connecting flight to Madrid by the skin of our teeth. When we made it and checked into our hotel, we thought that the divine interventions we were granted from you had ceased. We bunkered down for the night and woke up to a wonderful room service breakfast and turned on the telly (as one is wont to do when eating breakfast in bed.) Nicolas and I spoke of our excitement to take off to Peru in a few hours and land in Cusco. It was then you reminded us of your omniscience and presence in all things variable. As if it were your own voice, Anderson Cooper personified you Saint Murphy and told us that Cusco had recently flooded. 25 houses had been destroyed by unusual, heavy rainfall that had caused flooding in Cusco and other parts of the region. This didn't dissuade us from going and if this was your intention, oh holy saint, you should have opted for an earthquake but perhaps this was beyond your power. After all, if it CAN go wrong, it will states your law. If the tectonic plates are not ready to shift, you'd have to send a quick text over to your boss, God, or Mother Nature or whomever you report to in order to give the plates a little nudge before you could work your magic on them. You did do a good job however when I learned that on our flight from Madrid to Bogota (first lay over) we would be adding another stop in Cali for technical reasons making what was 20 hours of travel now a nice round 24. But dearest Saint Murphy who is normally so undiscriminating with his catastrophes and inconveniences, I can't help but feel that you are taking the piss just a little bit when you manage to get us placed dead in the middle of four babies who (of course) screamed the whole way from Madrid to Bogota. 10 solid hours. At least we had it in stereo as not to wear one ear more than the other. We are now in the airport at Lima awaiting our last plane to Cusco. It is 10:00 am Paris time and 3:00 am Peru time. We are exhausted. Your constant cameos along the lengths of our journey have made us feel blessed by knowing your presence, but GIVE US A BREAK! We have to wait in the airport until 5:10 am when our last flight boards and I'm going to try to get a bit of sleep on a chair in the airport lounge. As I mentioned at the beginning of this prayer, a bit of reprieve would be welcome, so don't send us any robbers to come and grab our stuff, don't delay our last plane, or see that it's cancelled. No more strikes, no more floods and no more rude stewardesses that say “Ju didn't order begetarian meal. I have no record of dat okay?” In the name of travelers everywhere, Amen.
Even after I offered up this prayer, Murphy continued to pester us. One lost credit card later, we finally had the reprieve we so desperately wanted. We arrived in Cusco and checked into a hostel with an amazing view and made the necessary plans to visit the Machu Picchu the next day. We booked a two day adventure that was simply spectacular. Although the unplanned last minute flight that we had to book basically ruined us financially, we HAD to do the Machu Picchu. We hadn't come all that way not to. We didn't regret it and it was truly breathtaking. There's photos on FB.
After Cusco, we took a bus to Puno where we stayed a night and from there, our bus to La Paz in Bolivia where we stopped an hour at the Lake Titicaca and actually had to cross a bit of it by boat to get to La Paz. Border control was something peculiar as it consisted of stopping at what could have easily been a truck stop as opposed to a border crossing, presenting our passports to a guy sitting in just some random chair behind a desk that looked like it had been purchased at the Salvation Army. His official border controller uniform? A beat up, old Abercrombie and Fitch hoodie and a pair of jeans. His reaction when he saw my passport was that of all the people that have seen my passport here so far. “Hey! Canada! Yes!”
Okay, I thought. I guess it's better to be well liked than the contrary as the woman behind me was American and the sight of her passport invoked a sneer from the hooded government worker. Anyway, we walked out of Peru and into Bolivia where things became even less expensive than they were in Peru. This was good news for us. For both of us to eat in a restaurant that is not too touristy, but still looks trustworthy was 100 Bolivianos. 10 Euros. We had a cocktail, a starter, a main dish and a desert for 5 euros each. Unreal.
It's 8 o'clock in the morning here now on our second day in Bolivia and the holiday part of our adventure is quickly coming to a close. We have one or two more days in La Paz before we take the seven hour bus ride to Cochabamba where we will be picked up by a couple who works in the orphanage. We will then be nine to fivers for the next long while. Will update all readers (that makes it sound like we have a lot,) on our new “jobs” as soon as possible. We miss all of you and hope to recount many more adventures in posts to come!
Sunday, 24 October 2010
La VIeille Montagne (MACHU PICHU)
Machu pichu...ca c'est fait!!!
Bonjour à tous.
Nous voilà revenus de Machu Pichu...bilan...un endroit absolument magnifique.
voilà le récit de nos deux derniers jours.
Vendredi Matin nous embarquions dans un bus qui nous a fait rapidement visiter la région de Cusco pour nous emmener en 4 heures (avec arrêt régulièrement pour visiter des marché...un site incas et une petite ville typique) à la ville Ollanta y Tampo. De là nous avons pris le train Inca rail...un train qui roule encore au Charbon hyper jolie et très bruyant. Au bout de Deux heures de voyage, nous arrivons à Aguas Callentes, pour ceux qui ont des bases d'espagnole, cela signifie eau chaude, il s'agit d'une ville à touriste au pied du Machu Pichu ayant pour particularité d'avoir des piscines d'eau chaude naturelles!!
Forcément pour ceux qui connaissent Annabelle, quand elle sait qu'il y a de l'eau, elle va se baigner donc en arrivant là bas à 19h00, il faisait déjà nuit mais qu'à cela ne tienne, nous avons filer se baigner dans ces piscine d'eau Chaude. Je n'en garde pas un souvenir extraordinaire du au manque cruel d'hygiène.
A titre d'exemple, les vestiaires pour se changer sont nettoyer par une dame, avec une serpière aussi noir que du charbon, serpière qu'elle trempe de temps à autre dans un seau d'eau grise!!! L'humidité, l'eau, la chaleur...ne serais-ce pas le climat idéal pour développer des petites bactéries? Le Scarabé dans ma cabine à vite confirmer tous mais soupçons à ce niveau mais bon...allons nous baigner.
L'eau...grise...avec une odeur...spéciale enfin bref...pas génial.
Pour infos, le climat là bas et semi tropicale...chaud et humide.
Nos sommes vite rentrée à notre petit hotel pour prendre une douche derrière en se frottant bien les pieds (ah oui, il n'y a pas de douche dans les banos termales, bains thermales)
Le lendemain, réveil à 6h30 puis bus direction Machu Pichu, 25 minute de montagne pour grimper à 2500 mètres et là (le village est 300 mètres en contrebas), on attend le guide, rentrons dans le site. Une fois arrivée en haut (sur le point le plus haute du village) on a une vue sur l'ensemble du site et je dois bien reconnaitre que c'est à couper le souffle. Machu Pichu (signie vieille montagne en quechua) est dans les nuage, par temps clair c'est fabuleux mais par temps nuageux (c'était notre cas) on perd quand même pas mal au niveau du paysage. Visite du sites pendant 2 heures...puis temps libre on reste sur place grignotte deux trois trucs et redescendons vers 12h00.
Nous avons donc passer 4 heures sur le site de Machu Pichu..vraiment un moment inoubiable.
A Machu Pichu, La visite était très intéressante, bien sur nous avions un guide pendant les deux heures qui nous à montrer les différents coins, les maisons, les temple...Pour le folklore il y a des Lamas, ont peut aller les voir et s'amuser avec eux, ce qu'Annabelle n'a pas manqué de faire en nourrissant un Lama avec des peau de bananes (photo à l'appui).
Le temps s'est heureusement dégagé pendant la matinée et là nous pouvions voir les montagnes qui entourent le site. Un peu de culture maintenant. Machu Pichu et en fait la montagne à l'Ouest du Site, Huyana Pichuu (je ne suis pas sur de l'orthographe) et la montagne à l'Ouest.Cela signfie peties montagne. Le site et donc établie entre ces deux sommets que les incas vénéraient. Sur les photos du Machu Pichu que l'on peut trouver un peu partout, on voit le site et une montagne dans le font, il s'agit de Huyana Pichu, la plus petites, il est possible de grimper tout là haut et d'avoir donc une vue imprenable sur le site mais...1h30 de treck et si vous regarder les photos...c'est raid. NON MERCI (en plus il faut se lever a 3 heure du mat pour réserver ses billets car ils n'autorisent que 400 personnes par jour à faire cette grimpette).
Bilan c'est vraiment en endroit magnifique, impressionnant et hallucinant de savoir faire et de technonogie. Ce serait dommage d'être passer à côter.
Après notre retour à aguas calliente, nous avons du attendre pour note train, nous avons passer le temps en visitant le marché (rien d'autre qu'une truc à touristes ou une cinquantaines de magasin se suivent pour vous vendre poncho, sac bonnet et autre accessoires typiquement Péruviens à peu près tous Made in China.
2 heures de train pour le retour, 1h30 de bus et nous revoilà à Cusco à 23h00, de là un petit Taxi (tous le monde là bas fait le taxi pour les touristes) les gens s'arrêtent et vous propose un taxi), petit indice, il faut négocier le prix avant parce qu'àprès ca pourrais mal finir. Par exemple on démarre à 10 Soles pour le retour à l'hotel, pour finir à 5 Soles...moi j'adore ça. Bie sur jusqu'au moment ou je m'appercois que le mec m'a rendu la monnaie su 50 avec des faux billets, un billet de 20 Soles complétement balour mais mon ami était déjà loin...tant pis...la prochaine fois je vérifierai dans le taxi.
Aujourd'hui nous partons en bus (environ 8 heures) à Puno, la ville près du Lac Titikaka. Il parait qu'i fait très froid là bas. Pour l'instant, nous n'avons pas froid, au contraire, les nuits sont fraîches mais la journée, nous atteignons les 25 degrès.
Nous nous plaisons beaucoup ici, les gens sont très sympas et très très serviables, au contraire de la Bolivie, le Pérou n'est pas un pays pauvres, les gens mangent à leurs faim il ne sont pas dans la misère mais cependant, certaines choses nous surpennent...des chiens errants partout...des enfants errants aussi. Les enfants sont dans les rues et jouent avec...des caillous...des bouchons de bouteille...mais jamais nous ne voyons les parents!!!
Bref pour ceux qui hésitent à faire un trou ici, n'hésitez plus, rien à craindre, des gens sympas... par contre espagnole ou anglais nécessaire, autre langue, s'abstenir.
Notre espagnole s'affine mais nous ne sommes pas vraiment en mesure de nous débrouiller avec notre niveau, l'anglais nous est d'une aide précieuse.
Voilà pour les petites nouvelles.
Prochaine étape...Puno, puis je ne sais plus qu'elle ville et La Paz Bolivie.
a bientôt les amis
:)
Bonjour à tous.
Nous voilà revenus de Machu Pichu...bilan...un endroit absolument magnifique.
voilà le récit de nos deux derniers jours.
Vendredi Matin nous embarquions dans un bus qui nous a fait rapidement visiter la région de Cusco pour nous emmener en 4 heures (avec arrêt régulièrement pour visiter des marché...un site incas et une petite ville typique) à la ville Ollanta y Tampo. De là nous avons pris le train Inca rail...un train qui roule encore au Charbon hyper jolie et très bruyant. Au bout de Deux heures de voyage, nous arrivons à Aguas Callentes, pour ceux qui ont des bases d'espagnole, cela signifie eau chaude, il s'agit d'une ville à touriste au pied du Machu Pichu ayant pour particularité d'avoir des piscines d'eau chaude naturelles!!
Forcément pour ceux qui connaissent Annabelle, quand elle sait qu'il y a de l'eau, elle va se baigner donc en arrivant là bas à 19h00, il faisait déjà nuit mais qu'à cela ne tienne, nous avons filer se baigner dans ces piscine d'eau Chaude. Je n'en garde pas un souvenir extraordinaire du au manque cruel d'hygiène.
A titre d'exemple, les vestiaires pour se changer sont nettoyer par une dame, avec une serpière aussi noir que du charbon, serpière qu'elle trempe de temps à autre dans un seau d'eau grise!!! L'humidité, l'eau, la chaleur...ne serais-ce pas le climat idéal pour développer des petites bactéries? Le Scarabé dans ma cabine à vite confirmer tous mais soupçons à ce niveau mais bon...allons nous baigner.
L'eau...grise...avec une odeur...spéciale enfin bref...pas génial.
Pour infos, le climat là bas et semi tropicale...chaud et humide.
Nos sommes vite rentrée à notre petit hotel pour prendre une douche derrière en se frottant bien les pieds (ah oui, il n'y a pas de douche dans les banos termales, bains thermales)
Le lendemain, réveil à 6h30 puis bus direction Machu Pichu, 25 minute de montagne pour grimper à 2500 mètres et là (le village est 300 mètres en contrebas), on attend le guide, rentrons dans le site. Une fois arrivée en haut (sur le point le plus haute du village) on a une vue sur l'ensemble du site et je dois bien reconnaitre que c'est à couper le souffle. Machu Pichu (signie vieille montagne en quechua) est dans les nuage, par temps clair c'est fabuleux mais par temps nuageux (c'était notre cas) on perd quand même pas mal au niveau du paysage. Visite du sites pendant 2 heures...puis temps libre on reste sur place grignotte deux trois trucs et redescendons vers 12h00.
Nous avons donc passer 4 heures sur le site de Machu Pichu..vraiment un moment inoubiable.
A Machu Pichu, La visite était très intéressante, bien sur nous avions un guide pendant les deux heures qui nous à montrer les différents coins, les maisons, les temple...Pour le folklore il y a des Lamas, ont peut aller les voir et s'amuser avec eux, ce qu'Annabelle n'a pas manqué de faire en nourrissant un Lama avec des peau de bananes (photo à l'appui).
Le temps s'est heureusement dégagé pendant la matinée et là nous pouvions voir les montagnes qui entourent le site. Un peu de culture maintenant. Machu Pichu et en fait la montagne à l'Ouest du Site, Huyana Pichuu (je ne suis pas sur de l'orthographe) et la montagne à l'Ouest.Cela signfie peties montagne. Le site et donc établie entre ces deux sommets que les incas vénéraient. Sur les photos du Machu Pichu que l'on peut trouver un peu partout, on voit le site et une montagne dans le font, il s'agit de Huyana Pichu, la plus petites, il est possible de grimper tout là haut et d'avoir donc une vue imprenable sur le site mais...1h30 de treck et si vous regarder les photos...c'est raid. NON MERCI (en plus il faut se lever a 3 heure du mat pour réserver ses billets car ils n'autorisent que 400 personnes par jour à faire cette grimpette).
Bilan c'est vraiment en endroit magnifique, impressionnant et hallucinant de savoir faire et de technonogie. Ce serait dommage d'être passer à côter.
Après notre retour à aguas calliente, nous avons du attendre pour note train, nous avons passer le temps en visitant le marché (rien d'autre qu'une truc à touristes ou une cinquantaines de magasin se suivent pour vous vendre poncho, sac bonnet et autre accessoires typiquement Péruviens à peu près tous Made in China.
2 heures de train pour le retour, 1h30 de bus et nous revoilà à Cusco à 23h00, de là un petit Taxi (tous le monde là bas fait le taxi pour les touristes) les gens s'arrêtent et vous propose un taxi), petit indice, il faut négocier le prix avant parce qu'àprès ca pourrais mal finir. Par exemple on démarre à 10 Soles pour le retour à l'hotel, pour finir à 5 Soles...moi j'adore ça. Bie sur jusqu'au moment ou je m'appercois que le mec m'a rendu la monnaie su 50 avec des faux billets, un billet de 20 Soles complétement balour mais mon ami était déjà loin...tant pis...la prochaine fois je vérifierai dans le taxi.
Aujourd'hui nous partons en bus (environ 8 heures) à Puno, la ville près du Lac Titikaka. Il parait qu'i fait très froid là bas. Pour l'instant, nous n'avons pas froid, au contraire, les nuits sont fraîches mais la journée, nous atteignons les 25 degrès.
Nous nous plaisons beaucoup ici, les gens sont très sympas et très très serviables, au contraire de la Bolivie, le Pérou n'est pas un pays pauvres, les gens mangent à leurs faim il ne sont pas dans la misère mais cependant, certaines choses nous surpennent...des chiens errants partout...des enfants errants aussi. Les enfants sont dans les rues et jouent avec...des caillous...des bouchons de bouteille...mais jamais nous ne voyons les parents!!!
Bref pour ceux qui hésitent à faire un trou ici, n'hésitez plus, rien à craindre, des gens sympas... par contre espagnole ou anglais nécessaire, autre langue, s'abstenir.
Notre espagnole s'affine mais nous ne sommes pas vraiment en mesure de nous débrouiller avec notre niveau, l'anglais nous est d'une aide précieuse.
Voilà pour les petites nouvelles.
Prochaine étape...Puno, puis je ne sais plus qu'elle ville et La Paz Bolivie.
a bientôt les amis
:)
Thursday, 21 October 2010
Amérique du Sud...nous voilà
Hola para todos!!!
Jeudi 21 Octobre, 18h heure locale (1h00 du mat en France)
Nous y sommes finalement arrivés mais non sans peines. Voici le récit de nos 3 jours de voyages pour finalement arrivée à notre première destination, Cusco, Pérou.
LE VOYAGE
Annabelle et moi tenons tous d'abord à vous remercier tous encore une fois d'être venues à notre soirée de départ. Merci beaucoup pour tous vos cadeaux et votre soutient.
Nous sommes cependant désolé de ne pas pouvoir remercier easyjet qui à bien faillit mettre un point final à notre aventure. Pour que tous le monde comprenne bien, voilà l'itinéraire qui encore lundi à 12h nous attendait:
Mardi 19: Départ Paris destination Madrid (Arrivée à 9h00) du mat.
visite de Madrid, Diner romantique (anniversaire de nos 6 ans) nuit dans un hotel 5 étoiles
Mercredi 20: Départ Marid 14h direction CALI (escale technique) puis BOGOTA 17h (heure locale mais 12 heures d'avion)
Mercredi 20 Dépard BOGOTA (22h) arrivée LIMA (Pérou) 1h du mat
Jeudi 21 : Départ LIMA 5h du Mat direction CUSCO 7h00 du mat
Tous ces vols étaient prévus jusqu'à ce que Lundi easyjet annule tous simplement notre vol pour MADRID....sympa surtout quand on sait qu'il s'agit de 2 réservations différentes (Paris Madrid, puis Madrid CUSCO) avec 2 compagnies différentes ce qui veux donc dire...si tu rate ton avion a Madrid...tant pis!!!
Bilan nous avons passé notre lundi après midi à trouver un vol de dernières minutes qui nous emmène à Madrid à temps...et par miracle...nous y sommes arrivés...mais tous cela serait bien trop simple.
Notre départ pour Madrid modifiée, nous avons eu un vol qui part à 14h Mardi et qui arrive à 19h00 à Madrid, et la vous me direz...mais il ne faut pas 5 heures pour aller à Madrid? Et vous auriez raison...s'était sans compter sur un petit changement d'avion à Milan...en Italie!!!(c'est l'avantage des billets dernières minutes...on voyage beaucoup plus).
Mais on ne se décourage pas...on y va et on a pas peur des heures interminables d'attentes dans les aéroports...
Arrivée à Roissy pour partir...bien évidemment des problèmes techniques décalent notre avion...1heure de retard...et là, Annabelle et moi réalisons qu'une heure...c'est exactement le temps dont nous disposions pour changer d'avion a Milan...donc nous allons probablement raté notre transfert...mais pas de problème, la compagnie nous remettra dans le prochain vol pour madrid qui s'avère être...le lendemain, exactement à la même heure de notre avion décollant de madrid et nous emmenant jusqu'au Pérou!!!
C'est pas magnifique ça?
Donc là, c'est le moment de tirer à pile ou face...soit tu prend l'avion quand même en espérant que l'autre avion à milan t'attende ou...lui même soit en retard, soit tu prend le prochain avion et dans ce cas...tu rate ton départ et fais jouer tes assurances!!! annabelle et moi sommes joueurs, on prend l'avion avec une heure de retard et la...la bonne nouvelle tombe..ils ont un peu de retard en Italie...donc en courrant, on pourrais probablement chopper l'avion mais notre valise...peut-être pas...(c'est en tout cas ce que nous ont dis les hotesse à l'embarquement)
Arrivée à Milan, on courrent faire notre transfert pour s'appercevoir qu'en fait les Italiens on encore plus de retard que la france et que du coup, même notre bagage a des chances de prendre l'avion avec nous.
nous débarquons finalement a Madrid (est si vous avez bien suivi) avec 3 heures de retard (France et Italie cummulé) récupérons notre valoche ouhouuuuu, on a la valoche et prenons notre petit bus direction l'hotel.
Et là, parce que'on est têtus...on se fait notre repas madrilain et notre nuit dans notre hotel...absolument génial
Le lendemain matin réveil 8 h direction aroport de madrid..près pour...30 heures d'avion d'aéroport et tuti cuanti!!!
Et là on dira ce qu'on voudra sur les espagnols et sur l'amérique du Sud... mais sur les 5 avions...pas un seul en retard...tous parfaitement à l'heure et le pire...sans perte de bagage.
CUSCO
Ainsi nous voilà débarqués à Cusco, dans un petit hotel très mignon (merci Annabelle de s'être occupé de tous ça). Le décor et...comme ce qu'on voit à la télé...c'est les montagnes...une ville en piteux état, des routes déglingués mais une ville plutot jolie et relativement grande. C'est une belle ville, ancienne chargée d'histoire et très très croyante. Les gens sont habillé...à la Péruvienne ce qui ajoute un cachet particulier aux lieux.
Cependant nous sommes là depuis quleques heures maintenant, comptant d'y être, avec un sentiment de vraiment avoir mérités d'être là...je comprend pourquoi il faut être en bonne santé pour faire ce genre de voyage...nous n'avons pas vraiment dormis depuis madrid, pas vraiment manger non plus si ce n'est pour la bouffe infecte qu'ils servent à très petites doses dans les avions, mais on a la pêche...il fait un ciel bleu magnifique, la température monte rapidement et je pense que l'on passera facilement les 20 degrès aujourd'hui.
Nous constatons quand même que nous avons des difficultés à respirer...parfois on inspire mais on a l'impression d'étouffer...j'imagine que ca doit être ça le manque d'oxygène en altitude.
La terasse de l'hotel, mon café et ma cloppe son quand même salutaires...
Voilà ainsi les aventures de notre voyage...bien évidemment j'ai volontairement occultés les différents poussées d'adrénalines qui ont fait montés la tension au fur et à mesure des retards...annulations et autres mésaventures...
...
Ainsi nous sommes arrivés à CUSCO à 7h00. Nous avons pris nos appartements et commencer à discuter avec le mec de l'hotel qui s'occupe d'organiser les voyage au machu pichu. le deal qu'il nous a proposer semblait tentant mais avant de sauter sur l'occaz (quand même 150 Euros par personne) nous avons décidé d'aller voir sa concurrence. Il faut savoir qu'ici, les gens savent que les petits blancs comme nous veulent aller au machu pichu donc les rues regorgent de petits magasins proposant de nous y emmener avec plus ou moins toujours les mêmes formules et à quelques "soles" (monnaie locale) près, le même prix. Mais nous avons négocier et décider de partir demain...vendredi pour 2 jours. nuit d'hotel incluse et visite de différents autre sites. il faut savoir que de Cusco, il faut compter 5 à 6 heures pour rejoindre le machu pichu, certains le font en une journée mais nous avons pensé qu'au même tarif, mieux vaut prendre un peu le temps donc nous étalons cela sur 2 jours.
Une fois cela fait, affaire réglé vers 11H00, nous avons tous juste le temps de nous appercevoir que comme depuis le début de la semaine, les bonne nouvelles s'enchaînent, notre carte de crédit et perdue...c'est ballo!!! Heureusement qu'on en a trois!!! mais donc petit moment de stress appel à la banque...mais bon, on avait tous prévu de ce côté là donc à part le fait de s'en faire renvoyé une quand nous serons en bolivie...tous va bien.
Nous avons ensuite déjeuner dans un resto plus destinés au locaux , le style :"no hablo ingles", un resto qui nous a été recommandé par la personne qui nous a vendus notre excursion. nous avons mangés pour attention...40 Soles!!! (a titre informatif 50 soles équivalent à 10 euros). Sachant que pour ce prix la, c'est royal entrée plat dessert boisson pour 2.
Une autre chose qui nous à intéressé, enfin surtour moi, c'est les jeunes filles qui proposent des massages...pas le genre thailandais mais pour la modique somme de 20 Soles (faites un peu de math) on a droit à 1 heure.
Annabelle et moi se sommes taper 1h30 chacun massage du corp, modelage du visage et hydratation.......pas mal, ca nous à couter un peu plus chers quand même, 40 Sinos chacun...mais bon...ca reste raisonnable et super super bien fait...
Enfin nous revoilà à l'hotel, il est 17h45 ici et il pleut comme vache qui pisse, contrairement à ce matin...c'est ca le temps en montagne...vite changeant...
Annabelle et moi n'ayant dormis qu'environ 3 heures depuis mardi matin..je pense qu'on ne va pas tarder à aller hiberner jusqu'à demain.
Prochaine aventure, le Machu Pichu pendant 2 jours puis retour à l'hotel dimanche (on a déjà prévu de retourner se faire masser...)
a plus
:)
Jeudi 21 Octobre, 18h heure locale (1h00 du mat en France)
Nous y sommes finalement arrivés mais non sans peines. Voici le récit de nos 3 jours de voyages pour finalement arrivée à notre première destination, Cusco, Pérou.
LE VOYAGE
Annabelle et moi tenons tous d'abord à vous remercier tous encore une fois d'être venues à notre soirée de départ. Merci beaucoup pour tous vos cadeaux et votre soutient.
Nous sommes cependant désolé de ne pas pouvoir remercier easyjet qui à bien faillit mettre un point final à notre aventure. Pour que tous le monde comprenne bien, voilà l'itinéraire qui encore lundi à 12h nous attendait:
Mardi 19: Départ Paris destination Madrid (Arrivée à 9h00) du mat.
visite de Madrid, Diner romantique (anniversaire de nos 6 ans) nuit dans un hotel 5 étoiles
Mercredi 20: Départ Marid 14h direction CALI (escale technique) puis BOGOTA 17h (heure locale mais 12 heures d'avion)
Mercredi 20 Dépard BOGOTA (22h) arrivée LIMA (Pérou) 1h du mat
Jeudi 21 : Départ LIMA 5h du Mat direction CUSCO 7h00 du mat
Tous ces vols étaient prévus jusqu'à ce que Lundi easyjet annule tous simplement notre vol pour MADRID....sympa surtout quand on sait qu'il s'agit de 2 réservations différentes (Paris Madrid, puis Madrid CUSCO) avec 2 compagnies différentes ce qui veux donc dire...si tu rate ton avion a Madrid...tant pis!!!
Bilan nous avons passé notre lundi après midi à trouver un vol de dernières minutes qui nous emmène à Madrid à temps...et par miracle...nous y sommes arrivés...mais tous cela serait bien trop simple.
Notre départ pour Madrid modifiée, nous avons eu un vol qui part à 14h Mardi et qui arrive à 19h00 à Madrid, et la vous me direz...mais il ne faut pas 5 heures pour aller à Madrid? Et vous auriez raison...s'était sans compter sur un petit changement d'avion à Milan...en Italie!!!(c'est l'avantage des billets dernières minutes...on voyage beaucoup plus).
Mais on ne se décourage pas...on y va et on a pas peur des heures interminables d'attentes dans les aéroports...
Arrivée à Roissy pour partir...bien évidemment des problèmes techniques décalent notre avion...1heure de retard...et là, Annabelle et moi réalisons qu'une heure...c'est exactement le temps dont nous disposions pour changer d'avion a Milan...donc nous allons probablement raté notre transfert...mais pas de problème, la compagnie nous remettra dans le prochain vol pour madrid qui s'avère être...le lendemain, exactement à la même heure de notre avion décollant de madrid et nous emmenant jusqu'au Pérou!!!
C'est pas magnifique ça?
Donc là, c'est le moment de tirer à pile ou face...soit tu prend l'avion quand même en espérant que l'autre avion à milan t'attende ou...lui même soit en retard, soit tu prend le prochain avion et dans ce cas...tu rate ton départ et fais jouer tes assurances!!! annabelle et moi sommes joueurs, on prend l'avion avec une heure de retard et la...la bonne nouvelle tombe..ils ont un peu de retard en Italie...donc en courrant, on pourrais probablement chopper l'avion mais notre valise...peut-être pas...(c'est en tout cas ce que nous ont dis les hotesse à l'embarquement)
Arrivée à Milan, on courrent faire notre transfert pour s'appercevoir qu'en fait les Italiens on encore plus de retard que la france et que du coup, même notre bagage a des chances de prendre l'avion avec nous.
nous débarquons finalement a Madrid (est si vous avez bien suivi) avec 3 heures de retard (France et Italie cummulé) récupérons notre valoche ouhouuuuu, on a la valoche et prenons notre petit bus direction l'hotel.
Et là, parce que'on est têtus...on se fait notre repas madrilain et notre nuit dans notre hotel...absolument génial
Le lendemain matin réveil 8 h direction aroport de madrid..près pour...30 heures d'avion d'aéroport et tuti cuanti!!!
Et là on dira ce qu'on voudra sur les espagnols et sur l'amérique du Sud... mais sur les 5 avions...pas un seul en retard...tous parfaitement à l'heure et le pire...sans perte de bagage.
CUSCO
Ainsi nous voilà débarqués à Cusco, dans un petit hotel très mignon (merci Annabelle de s'être occupé de tous ça). Le décor et...comme ce qu'on voit à la télé...c'est les montagnes...une ville en piteux état, des routes déglingués mais une ville plutot jolie et relativement grande. C'est une belle ville, ancienne chargée d'histoire et très très croyante. Les gens sont habillé...à la Péruvienne ce qui ajoute un cachet particulier aux lieux.
Cependant nous sommes là depuis quleques heures maintenant, comptant d'y être, avec un sentiment de vraiment avoir mérités d'être là...je comprend pourquoi il faut être en bonne santé pour faire ce genre de voyage...nous n'avons pas vraiment dormis depuis madrid, pas vraiment manger non plus si ce n'est pour la bouffe infecte qu'ils servent à très petites doses dans les avions, mais on a la pêche...il fait un ciel bleu magnifique, la température monte rapidement et je pense que l'on passera facilement les 20 degrès aujourd'hui.
Nous constatons quand même que nous avons des difficultés à respirer...parfois on inspire mais on a l'impression d'étouffer...j'imagine que ca doit être ça le manque d'oxygène en altitude.
La terasse de l'hotel, mon café et ma cloppe son quand même salutaires...
Voilà ainsi les aventures de notre voyage...bien évidemment j'ai volontairement occultés les différents poussées d'adrénalines qui ont fait montés la tension au fur et à mesure des retards...annulations et autres mésaventures...
...
Ainsi nous sommes arrivés à CUSCO à 7h00. Nous avons pris nos appartements et commencer à discuter avec le mec de l'hotel qui s'occupe d'organiser les voyage au machu pichu. le deal qu'il nous a proposer semblait tentant mais avant de sauter sur l'occaz (quand même 150 Euros par personne) nous avons décidé d'aller voir sa concurrence. Il faut savoir qu'ici, les gens savent que les petits blancs comme nous veulent aller au machu pichu donc les rues regorgent de petits magasins proposant de nous y emmener avec plus ou moins toujours les mêmes formules et à quelques "soles" (monnaie locale) près, le même prix. Mais nous avons négocier et décider de partir demain...vendredi pour 2 jours. nuit d'hotel incluse et visite de différents autre sites. il faut savoir que de Cusco, il faut compter 5 à 6 heures pour rejoindre le machu pichu, certains le font en une journée mais nous avons pensé qu'au même tarif, mieux vaut prendre un peu le temps donc nous étalons cela sur 2 jours.
Une fois cela fait, affaire réglé vers 11H00, nous avons tous juste le temps de nous appercevoir que comme depuis le début de la semaine, les bonne nouvelles s'enchaînent, notre carte de crédit et perdue...c'est ballo!!! Heureusement qu'on en a trois!!! mais donc petit moment de stress appel à la banque...mais bon, on avait tous prévu de ce côté là donc à part le fait de s'en faire renvoyé une quand nous serons en bolivie...tous va bien.
Nous avons ensuite déjeuner dans un resto plus destinés au locaux , le style :"no hablo ingles", un resto qui nous a été recommandé par la personne qui nous a vendus notre excursion. nous avons mangés pour attention...40 Soles!!! (a titre informatif 50 soles équivalent à 10 euros). Sachant que pour ce prix la, c'est royal entrée plat dessert boisson pour 2.
Une autre chose qui nous à intéressé, enfin surtour moi, c'est les jeunes filles qui proposent des massages...pas le genre thailandais mais pour la modique somme de 20 Soles (faites un peu de math) on a droit à 1 heure.
Annabelle et moi se sommes taper 1h30 chacun massage du corp, modelage du visage et hydratation.......pas mal, ca nous à couter un peu plus chers quand même, 40 Sinos chacun...mais bon...ca reste raisonnable et super super bien fait...
Enfin nous revoilà à l'hotel, il est 17h45 ici et il pleut comme vache qui pisse, contrairement à ce matin...c'est ca le temps en montagne...vite changeant...
Annabelle et moi n'ayant dormis qu'environ 3 heures depuis mardi matin..je pense qu'on ne va pas tarder à aller hiberner jusqu'à demain.
Prochaine aventure, le Machu Pichu pendant 2 jours puis retour à l'hotel dimanche (on a déjà prévu de retourner se faire masser...)
a plus
:)
Wednesday, 29 September 2010
Atheists Come Out on Top!
Just more proof that the more you know, the less you'll beleive. Theories as to why the Mormons and the Jews did so well on this quiz are welcome in the comments...
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/09/28/us/28religion.html?
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/09/28/us/28religion.html?
Sunday, 30 May 2010
A Serge of Hope
Our mission, like any endeavor, started out with a feeling. A feeling that waking up, going to work, doing our jobs, coming home, eating dinner and going to bed wasn't enough of a contribution to the world. Especially when our jobs were commercial development manager and English teacher to executives. I'm the idealist in the couple and consider myself well paired with my Frenchman who is, in every sense of the word, a realist. I always have crazy ideas and hundreds of projects that never get finished and he, on the other hand, is someone who approaches life from a much more logical and pragmatic standpoint. This is why I was surprised that this whole thing was his idea. As unhappy as I am with the current state of... a lot of things actually. The way we spend more money on defense than on education, (this is the case in France and the United States, but for Canada, I don't know. I doubt it as we're ranked eighth in the world on the list of most peaceful countries. Yea Canada!) I also get pissed off when I read about the Pope and his posse of child molesters that are allowed to walk free after having committed such heinous crimes against the trusting and innocent children that they lured into their grasp. I get pissed off when I'm reminded that 1% of the population in the world has 40% of it's wealth according to a UN study that was done in 2000. I've read that the 1% have more than 50% now, but that figure is unsubstantiated. I think about these things, but quickly frustrate myself when the feeling of helplessness settles in. Helpless to change any of it, I content myself with information on these kinds of issues because worse than being incapable to do anything is being ignorant of it. My Frenchman however is not this way. He's a problem solver and so when the idea of going away for six months started to circulate in our modest little house that we rented in a suburb of Paris, he piped up and said "I think we should go away on a volunteer mission." And that was that. He's never been one for angry rants and figures about injustice. He's an action kind of guy. One of the reasons that I love him. He's the "let's not just talk about it, let's do it" ying to my "let me just tell you more about it first" yang. He's always been like this. The wall paper would never have come down in our flat if it weren't for him. The projects that he chooses are few and (compared to me at least) far between, but they will be done quickly, efficiently and well. Mine, hmmm.... well, they'll get started with gusto but finished? That's another story...
So, my husband wanted to make the world a better place and so did I, so we (and by we, I mostly mean him) made an action plan. In order to save the money that we needed to realise our project however, we couldn't be paying 30% of our income every month into our house, so we decided that we needed to move. This, in Paris, if you're a renter is a nightmare of epic proportions. Line ups of twelve couples in front of a flat that you'll be able to view, all together, for 15 minutes before the landlord looks at the paperwork that you have brought with you to prove that you make three or sometimes four times the rent and selects on the spot the person that will live there. If this flat is in a half decent area, there could be twice as many people there that you have to fight with to see the place and then push your dossier into the landlord's face. A gruesome scene, perhaps, but when you consider that the average person in France takes home 1,500 Euros every month roughly and can't live in a flat that exceeds 30% of their income, a couple making 3,000 Euros together obviously are going to be looking for something in the 800-900 Euro range and now put that 800 Euro flat in a nice or at least livable area, well, demand is going to substantially exceed supply.
Neither myself or my husband wanted a 90 minute commute in the morning, so we were looking for Paris and West suburbs. Ideally, the suburb where we were living as it's where I did my theater in the evenings, it was close to work, right on the Seine, green and really quite lovely in general. We gave notice on our house and started waging the tenant war; visiting flats, handing in dossiers for consideration, waiting in line to peek our heads in the bathroom, and it was unfortunately to no avail. Landlords saw our dossiers and our salaries and asked us the obvious question "Why do you want to live here? In a flat that is 30m2 when you can easily afford more?" Well, we couldn't really say "Because we actually want to save a ton of money so that we can leave in nine months to go work abroad somewhere leaving you with once again, an empty flat that needs to be rented." So we came up with semi-believable stories that led us to NOT finding a flat and the date we had to leave our house drew ever nearer...
Then came Serge. The man that Karma delivered to our doorstep. A retired man of about sixty that I would chat with regularly when we happened to be walking our dogs at corresponding times. We lived on the same street which was just along the Seine and would often walk our dogs there. We soon became quite friendly. It was on one such walk that I vented some frustration at trying to find a cheap flat that would help us save for our adventure. As nonchalantly as can be Serge said "Well, I've got an empty flat you know and I think your project is a good one, so I'd rent it for cheap. Meet me in front of my house tomorrow at 9:00." It was like the doctor when he looks at your sore throat, writes a prescription and says "That'll do it. Take care now." I couldn't believe my ears. I rushed home to tell Nicolas, but my potentially incredible news was interrupting his T.V. watching and couch warming, so he yelled at me. Did people like this still exist? Not my Chéri, Serge. What I mean was, did people who just did nice things to help others still exist in our time and age? When I think back to living in my small town in Canada where I grew up, yes, indeed, this sort of thing was not common place, but certainly not unheard of. The only man in town with a pool let all the neighbourhood kids swim in it, a guy who had a pick-up truck knew a friend of a friend that was moving so would go to help out, but this was Paris. People didn't care and you quickly grew accustomed to that. I suppose that's why everyone's suspicion was so great, but we'll get to that.
So, we went and saw the flat and it was... big, livable, equipped with fridge, stove, dishwasher and central heating but when Serge said the flat was empty, he forgot to mention that it had been as such for almost twenty years. It was kitch and filthy, but bigger than what we had before and warmer. The best part though was Serge told us that if we paid the taxes and the charges on the flat, we could live there for free. FREE!!! The total cost of the a fore mentioned expenses didn't even come up to 400 Euros a month. I was waiting for the shoe to drop. I was waiting for a lewd proposition or an agreement to hand over our first born. Five and half months later I'm still waiting. This skeptical attitude however was all I was met with when I told others of my good fortune. There were even those who advised me not to take the flat as he could later charge us with squatting and all other sorts of things. People just couldn't comprehend that this wonderful, smiley old man just wanted to help out and that made me kind of sad. What if we didn't have to assume the worst in people? Think of all the mental energy we could save! This was what got me thinking about why people are nice if they don't believe in God. If Serge had been a priest or a nun, (Sergette?) I think there would have been less questions and dubious commentaries...As far as I know, Serge is not the pious type and is prepping the BBQ on Sunday morning as opposed to heading off to mass, but still in a time where it really seems to be every man for himself, Serge gave us, people that he didn't even know very well, an enormous leg up. A leg that would enable us to go on our mission.
The guy who invented Mormonism just sort of whipped it up. Invented an experience where he spoke to God and Jesus. (Or he could have really spoke to them because the only time I ever smoked weed, I too talked to God and he was a real dick head to me but anyway, I don't think Joseph Smith had been toking back on the green canoe when he claimed to see two thirds of the Holy Trinity.) I think that religion is bullshit and especially Joseph Smith's as it was just an excuse to marry and fornicate with underage girls. If I could do the same however, (invent a religion, not fornicate with underage girls,) I think Serge would be the first saint. Or the prophet, or at least a bishop or something. He preaches the doctrine that I think we all should follow. Be nice for no other reason than we're all there is. You're not racking up points for the afterlife, because when you die, you're dead and maggots eat your body. That's it. So, give unselfishly. Assume the best in people and help where you can. Don't just do something because an ancient book tells you to do it. Don't only think about yourself, paradoxically, it's the most surefire way to be unhappy and don't be a taker. People who take what others give and don't pay it forward in equal or superior amounts are takers and they suck. When someone is good to you, pay it forward. Serge "rented" us his apartment for next to nothing and the next day my piano I was trying to sell, I gave away to some young guy from Paris and I hope he was as happy to get a break as I was. Serge, our angel.
So, my husband wanted to make the world a better place and so did I, so we (and by we, I mostly mean him) made an action plan. In order to save the money that we needed to realise our project however, we couldn't be paying 30% of our income every month into our house, so we decided that we needed to move. This, in Paris, if you're a renter is a nightmare of epic proportions. Line ups of twelve couples in front of a flat that you'll be able to view, all together, for 15 minutes before the landlord looks at the paperwork that you have brought with you to prove that you make three or sometimes four times the rent and selects on the spot the person that will live there. If this flat is in a half decent area, there could be twice as many people there that you have to fight with to see the place and then push your dossier into the landlord's face. A gruesome scene, perhaps, but when you consider that the average person in France takes home 1,500 Euros every month roughly and can't live in a flat that exceeds 30% of their income, a couple making 3,000 Euros together obviously are going to be looking for something in the 800-900 Euro range and now put that 800 Euro flat in a nice or at least livable area, well, demand is going to substantially exceed supply.
Neither myself or my husband wanted a 90 minute commute in the morning, so we were looking for Paris and West suburbs. Ideally, the suburb where we were living as it's where I did my theater in the evenings, it was close to work, right on the Seine, green and really quite lovely in general. We gave notice on our house and started waging the tenant war; visiting flats, handing in dossiers for consideration, waiting in line to peek our heads in the bathroom, and it was unfortunately to no avail. Landlords saw our dossiers and our salaries and asked us the obvious question "Why do you want to live here? In a flat that is 30m2 when you can easily afford more?" Well, we couldn't really say "Because we actually want to save a ton of money so that we can leave in nine months to go work abroad somewhere leaving you with once again, an empty flat that needs to be rented." So we came up with semi-believable stories that led us to NOT finding a flat and the date we had to leave our house drew ever nearer...
Then came Serge. The man that Karma delivered to our doorstep. A retired man of about sixty that I would chat with regularly when we happened to be walking our dogs at corresponding times. We lived on the same street which was just along the Seine and would often walk our dogs there. We soon became quite friendly. It was on one such walk that I vented some frustration at trying to find a cheap flat that would help us save for our adventure. As nonchalantly as can be Serge said "Well, I've got an empty flat you know and I think your project is a good one, so I'd rent it for cheap. Meet me in front of my house tomorrow at 9:00." It was like the doctor when he looks at your sore throat, writes a prescription and says "That'll do it. Take care now." I couldn't believe my ears. I rushed home to tell Nicolas, but my potentially incredible news was interrupting his T.V. watching and couch warming, so he yelled at me. Did people like this still exist? Not my Chéri, Serge. What I mean was, did people who just did nice things to help others still exist in our time and age? When I think back to living in my small town in Canada where I grew up, yes, indeed, this sort of thing was not common place, but certainly not unheard of. The only man in town with a pool let all the neighbourhood kids swim in it, a guy who had a pick-up truck knew a friend of a friend that was moving so would go to help out, but this was Paris. People didn't care and you quickly grew accustomed to that. I suppose that's why everyone's suspicion was so great, but we'll get to that.
So, we went and saw the flat and it was... big, livable, equipped with fridge, stove, dishwasher and central heating but when Serge said the flat was empty, he forgot to mention that it had been as such for almost twenty years. It was kitch and filthy, but bigger than what we had before and warmer. The best part though was Serge told us that if we paid the taxes and the charges on the flat, we could live there for free. FREE!!! The total cost of the a fore mentioned expenses didn't even come up to 400 Euros a month. I was waiting for the shoe to drop. I was waiting for a lewd proposition or an agreement to hand over our first born. Five and half months later I'm still waiting. This skeptical attitude however was all I was met with when I told others of my good fortune. There were even those who advised me not to take the flat as he could later charge us with squatting and all other sorts of things. People just couldn't comprehend that this wonderful, smiley old man just wanted to help out and that made me kind of sad. What if we didn't have to assume the worst in people? Think of all the mental energy we could save! This was what got me thinking about why people are nice if they don't believe in God. If Serge had been a priest or a nun, (Sergette?) I think there would have been less questions and dubious commentaries...As far as I know, Serge is not the pious type and is prepping the BBQ on Sunday morning as opposed to heading off to mass, but still in a time where it really seems to be every man for himself, Serge gave us, people that he didn't even know very well, an enormous leg up. A leg that would enable us to go on our mission.
The guy who invented Mormonism just sort of whipped it up. Invented an experience where he spoke to God and Jesus. (Or he could have really spoke to them because the only time I ever smoked weed, I too talked to God and he was a real dick head to me but anyway, I don't think Joseph Smith had been toking back on the green canoe when he claimed to see two thirds of the Holy Trinity.) I think that religion is bullshit and especially Joseph Smith's as it was just an excuse to marry and fornicate with underage girls. If I could do the same however, (invent a religion, not fornicate with underage girls,) I think Serge would be the first saint. Or the prophet, or at least a bishop or something. He preaches the doctrine that I think we all should follow. Be nice for no other reason than we're all there is. You're not racking up points for the afterlife, because when you die, you're dead and maggots eat your body. That's it. So, give unselfishly. Assume the best in people and help where you can. Don't just do something because an ancient book tells you to do it. Don't only think about yourself, paradoxically, it's the most surefire way to be unhappy and don't be a taker. People who take what others give and don't pay it forward in equal or superior amounts are takers and they suck. When someone is good to you, pay it forward. Serge "rented" us his apartment for next to nothing and the next day my piano I was trying to sell, I gave away to some young guy from Paris and I hope he was as happy to get a break as I was. Serge, our angel.
Monday, 19 April 2010
Our Call to Serve.
I grew up Mormon. It wasn't until I had left the Mormons however that I discovered that there are different degrees of Mormon. Progressive Mormon, Orthodox Mormon and so on must have seemed hypocrite to my family because they were just Mormon. To them, you either were or you weren't and let me tell you... they were. They still are for that matter. My mother came to visit me in sinful, socialist France (where I live with my very own Frenchman,) and had to take a day off from seeing the sites as it would not be respectful to the Mormon Sabbath day. Paying homage to Gustave Eiffel instead of Yahweh is the kind of thing that could land you in Eternal Darkness. (This is what the Mormons call Hell FYI. Prepare yourselves any homosexuals or drinkers of Coca-Cola because if the Mormons get their way, this is where you'll go. So get ready.)
There are ten children in my family of which I am the oldest. There are seven boys and three girls. The boys that have come of age have all gone on missions and the ones that have not come of age are all being brainwashed to maximize chances that they do. A mission is the equivalent of Mormon military service. As a young man, when you turn 19, you are expected to give two years of your life to the Mormon church with the goal of converting new members. These young men start saving from a young age to pay for the two year experience in which their church usually sends them abroad, or at least cross country to live with a full time companion taking part in the same experience as him. Oh yeah, women can also serve a mission once they've virtually exhausted their opportunity to get married at the ripe old age of twenty one. They serve for a more modest eighteen months however as the child baring years are ticking on whilst they spread God's word. These missionaries leave their home and put their educations on hold to donate two years of their life to try and convince people to join the Mormon faith. They do also participate in humanitarian projects and volunteer efforts while they are there, but with the goal of boosting numbers and getting fresh blood coursing through the LDS corps all the while in their minds. (LDS is short for Latter Day Saints, aka Mormons.) These young people sacrifice two of the best years of their lives to cross the world and live as soldier-clergy hybrids at their own expense, but why? Are they of noble intentions? Are they trying to serve some greater good? Or are their motivations more self-serving than anything?
Every child in the Mormon childrens' education program sings songs like "I Hope They Call Me on a Mission," and "Called to Serve" Women are raised and prepared to only marry and bare children to a Return Missionary. (Affectionately known as RM's amongst adolescent women throughout the Mormon community.) Missionaries who aren't deemed worthy to leave on their missions straight after turning nineteen, or at all, are gossiped about and a shameful burden for a family to bear. Others wonder what could have been the egregious sin that could have tarnished this young person's purity enough to prevent them from being part of God's Army. Could it have been masturbation? Doing activities on Sunday that are considered unacceptable? (FYI outside of going to church, reading one's Book of Mormon or visiting the sick, there are not a lot of things that are tolerated...) Or could it have been that he/she didn't give one tenth of their entire income to the church? Whatever the shameful action that caused a volunteer clergy member to deem them "unworthy," you can be sure that they will feel the consequences of it in chagrin, especially in places where the Mormons are concentrated enough that Mormons only associate with Mormons and these young people's entire entourage is only those of LDS persuasion.
On the other side of the coin however, if you do get approved to serve a mission, go on it and convert a butt load of people, you're in for a treat. You'll be welcomed back with a special church ceremony dedicated just for you to report back your experiences and say the benediction of the religious meeting in the language that you learned whilst sharing the light with those abroad. You'll have your pick of the virgins that have been saving themselves for an RM, and if you had a high conversion rate while you were out in the field, you might even get a fancy position in the church. Priesthood president or Young mens' leader. NICE!
These motivations, among many other things, were some of the reasons that I left the Mormons. That I left religion in fact. Any service that they did to their fellow man was in the name of their god. I did think that it was important to do it, but not in an effort to boost conversion rates or secure one's place in the next life. As soon as I stopped believing in God ironically enough, everything took on so much more meaning, serving my fellow man included. If a Mormon or any other believer gives of his/her time and effort, it's in the name of the commandment of charity and loving one's neighbour. If an atheist does it, it's in the name of goodness. Making the world better and alleviating suffering with no ulterior motive. It is purely selfless. (Unless she is going to blog about it later hoping to elicit comments and followers...) This is why my husband and I decided to become missionaries. Atheist missionaries. We too are going to leave everything at our own expense, our jobs, our home, our lives in fact to go abroad and give of our time and resources. We don't have the aim of converting although if our example leads people to question their belief in God, we'd be thrilled. We want to go because the world is a shitty place, and if even in molecular proportions, we can, we hope, render it less shitty. Also, deluded as I may be, I hope that our effort and my reports on our effort will also hope to abolish or at least curb the silly belief that atheists are people with out morals as morality comes from religion. I'm sure I'll elaborate more on this as this blog carries on, but it boils my blood to hear religious mouths on telly, radio, discussion boards or whatever say that atheists are nasty people because with out God in our lives, we would all lie, cheat, kill, rape and steal. On the contrary! When you only have one life and so does everyone else, it becomes so much more sacred! Respect for life goes up exponentially as you realise that it's the only one that you've got. At least it did for me. Suffering in this life is to be rewarded in the next is a way of living that is total bollocks and we want to do good now to help others now. That's why we're going to Bolivia. An orphanage there has accepted us as volunteers to work with the children, in the garden, in the kitchens and in the schools for the period of six months and we're going! Our flights are booked, the budgeting and the planning is under way and we're off the 19th of October 2010. There is no God and all we have is each other. We should therefore be a lot nicer and this blog is about that. Musings on living life like it's the only one we've got, reports documenting our adventures, posting pictures, videos and links and whatever else I may need to evacuate from my brain as this adventure unfolds. Please comment and subscribe to the feed!
There are ten children in my family of which I am the oldest. There are seven boys and three girls. The boys that have come of age have all gone on missions and the ones that have not come of age are all being brainwashed to maximize chances that they do. A mission is the equivalent of Mormon military service. As a young man, when you turn 19, you are expected to give two years of your life to the Mormon church with the goal of converting new members. These young men start saving from a young age to pay for the two year experience in which their church usually sends them abroad, or at least cross country to live with a full time companion taking part in the same experience as him. Oh yeah, women can also serve a mission once they've virtually exhausted their opportunity to get married at the ripe old age of twenty one. They serve for a more modest eighteen months however as the child baring years are ticking on whilst they spread God's word. These missionaries leave their home and put their educations on hold to donate two years of their life to try and convince people to join the Mormon faith. They do also participate in humanitarian projects and volunteer efforts while they are there, but with the goal of boosting numbers and getting fresh blood coursing through the LDS corps all the while in their minds. (LDS is short for Latter Day Saints, aka Mormons.) These young people sacrifice two of the best years of their lives to cross the world and live as soldier-clergy hybrids at their own expense, but why? Are they of noble intentions? Are they trying to serve some greater good? Or are their motivations more self-serving than anything?
Every child in the Mormon childrens' education program sings songs like "I Hope They Call Me on a Mission," and "Called to Serve" Women are raised and prepared to only marry and bare children to a Return Missionary. (Affectionately known as RM's amongst adolescent women throughout the Mormon community.) Missionaries who aren't deemed worthy to leave on their missions straight after turning nineteen, or at all, are gossiped about and a shameful burden for a family to bear. Others wonder what could have been the egregious sin that could have tarnished this young person's purity enough to prevent them from being part of God's Army. Could it have been masturbation? Doing activities on Sunday that are considered unacceptable? (FYI outside of going to church, reading one's Book of Mormon or visiting the sick, there are not a lot of things that are tolerated...) Or could it have been that he/she didn't give one tenth of their entire income to the church? Whatever the shameful action that caused a volunteer clergy member to deem them "unworthy," you can be sure that they will feel the consequences of it in chagrin, especially in places where the Mormons are concentrated enough that Mormons only associate with Mormons and these young people's entire entourage is only those of LDS persuasion.
On the other side of the coin however, if you do get approved to serve a mission, go on it and convert a butt load of people, you're in for a treat. You'll be welcomed back with a special church ceremony dedicated just for you to report back your experiences and say the benediction of the religious meeting in the language that you learned whilst sharing the light with those abroad. You'll have your pick of the virgins that have been saving themselves for an RM, and if you had a high conversion rate while you were out in the field, you might even get a fancy position in the church. Priesthood president or Young mens' leader. NICE!
These motivations, among many other things, were some of the reasons that I left the Mormons. That I left religion in fact. Any service that they did to their fellow man was in the name of their god. I did think that it was important to do it, but not in an effort to boost conversion rates or secure one's place in the next life. As soon as I stopped believing in God ironically enough, everything took on so much more meaning, serving my fellow man included. If a Mormon or any other believer gives of his/her time and effort, it's in the name of the commandment of charity and loving one's neighbour. If an atheist does it, it's in the name of goodness. Making the world better and alleviating suffering with no ulterior motive. It is purely selfless. (Unless she is going to blog about it later hoping to elicit comments and followers...) This is why my husband and I decided to become missionaries. Atheist missionaries. We too are going to leave everything at our own expense, our jobs, our home, our lives in fact to go abroad and give of our time and resources. We don't have the aim of converting although if our example leads people to question their belief in God, we'd be thrilled. We want to go because the world is a shitty place, and if even in molecular proportions, we can, we hope, render it less shitty. Also, deluded as I may be, I hope that our effort and my reports on our effort will also hope to abolish or at least curb the silly belief that atheists are people with out morals as morality comes from religion. I'm sure I'll elaborate more on this as this blog carries on, but it boils my blood to hear religious mouths on telly, radio, discussion boards or whatever say that atheists are nasty people because with out God in our lives, we would all lie, cheat, kill, rape and steal. On the contrary! When you only have one life and so does everyone else, it becomes so much more sacred! Respect for life goes up exponentially as you realise that it's the only one that you've got. At least it did for me. Suffering in this life is to be rewarded in the next is a way of living that is total bollocks and we want to do good now to help others now. That's why we're going to Bolivia. An orphanage there has accepted us as volunteers to work with the children, in the garden, in the kitchens and in the schools for the period of six months and we're going! Our flights are booked, the budgeting and the planning is under way and we're off the 19th of October 2010. There is no God and all we have is each other. We should therefore be a lot nicer and this blog is about that. Musings on living life like it's the only one we've got, reports documenting our adventures, posting pictures, videos and links and whatever else I may need to evacuate from my brain as this adventure unfolds. Please comment and subscribe to the feed!
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