“They call this Death Valley because of all the people who don’t make it out alive,” our tour guide, Steve, whispered in a haunting voice.
Staring at the enormous sand dunes and unworldly rock formations, I felt fearful of what I was about to do. Of course, Steve was joking. The name actually comes from a mispronuciation by a Belgian priest, Gustavo Le Paige, who thought the landscape looked like Mars, or Marte. Because of the way he spoke, locals believed he said “death,” or muerte.
I found myself here after booking a “Sandboarding in Death Valley + Sunset in Moon Valley” excursion with Atacama Inca Tour. It was during a trip to San Pedro de Atacama, Chile, where tour agencies occupy every other storefront. However, this company was the only one I noticed offering this unique combination package. For 12,000 Chilean Pesos (about $25), plus 2,000 $CLP (about $4) to enter Moon Valley, you get transportation, a sandboarding lesson and about two hours of sandboarding, a tour of the Chulacao Caves, which are covered in edible salt, an uphill trek to a viewpoint in Moon Valley to sip Pisco Sour while watching the sunset and a free DVD of the afternoon. The tour also stops at many lookout points, so you’ll be able to get many photos. While Death Valley holds a surreal beauty, Moon Valley has some interesting landscape as well. In fact, the area gets its name due to its resemblance to the moon’s surface.
For a more visual idea of the day, check out the photo gallery below.
With the possible exception of Argentina, most people don’t associate Central or South America with cheese. Like all of Latin America, these countries are a mix of indigenous cultures, colonizing forces, immigrant influences, and varied terroir, climatic extremes, and levels of industrialization. They possess some of the most biologically and geographically diverse habitats on earth. As a result, the cuisine and agricultural practices of each country have developed accordingly.
The use of dairy may not be particularly diverse in this part of the world, especially when it comes to styles of cheese, but it’s an important source of nutrition and income in rural areas, and a part of nearly every meal.
While writing a book on cheese during the course of this past year, I tapped into my rather obsessive love of both street food and South America for inspiration. As I learned during my research, the sheer variety of cheesey street snacks from Mexico to Tierra del Fuego are as varied as the ethnic influences responsible for their creation. Read on for a tasty tribute to queso.
Arepas: These flat little corn or flour cakes from Colombia, Venezuela and Panama may be grilled, baked, boiled, or fried. They’re usually stuffed or topped with a melting cheese, but may also feature meat, chicken, seafood, egg, or vegetables.
Anafres: Essentially Honduran nachos, composed of giant tortilla chips, refried beans and melted cheese. Named for an anafre, the coal-fired clay pot the dish is served in.
Pupusas: This Salvadorean staple is similar to an arepa: a thick, griddled corn cake stuffed with meat, cheese–usually a mild melting variety known as quesillo–chicarrones (pork cracklings), or queso con loroco (cheese with the buds or flowers of a vine native to Central America).Choclo con queso: Boiled corn with slices or a chunk of mild, milky, fresh white cheese may not sound like much, but this roadside and market staple of Peru and Ecuador is irresistible. The secret is the corn, which is an indigenous Andean variety with large, white, nutty, starchy kernels. It’s satisfying as a snack all by itself, but it’s even better between bites of slightly salty queso.
Empanadas (empadinhas in Brazil): Perhaps the most ubiquitous Latin American street food, riffs on these baked or fried, stuffed pastries can be found from Argentina (where they’re practically a religion) and Chile to Costa Rica and El Salvador. The dough, which is usually lard-based, may be made from wheat, corn or plantain, with fillings ranging from melted, mild white cheese to meat, seafood, corn, or vegetables. In Ecuador, empanadas de viento (“wind”) are everywhere; they’re fried until airy,filled with sweetened queso fresco and dusted with powdered sugar.
Quesadillas: Nearly everyone loves these crisp little tortilla and cheese “sandwiches.” Traditionally cooked on a comal (a flat, cast-iron pan used as a griddle), they’re a popular street food and equally beloved Stateside.
Provoleta: This Argentinean and Uruguayan favorite is made from a domestic provolone cheese. It’s often seasoned with oregano or crushed chile, and grilled or placed on hot stones until caramelized and crispy on the exterior, and melted on the inside. It’s often served at asados (barbecues) as an appetizer, and accompanied by chimmichuri (an oil, herb, and spice sauce).
Queijo coaljo: A firm, white, salty, squeaky cheese from Brazil; it’s most commonly sold on the beach on a stick, after being cooked over coals or in handheld charcoal ovens; also known as queijo assado.
Croquettes de Queijo: Cheese croquettes, a favorite appetizer or street food in Brazil.
Coxinhas: A type of Brazilian salgado (snack), these are popular late-night fare. Typically, coxinhas are shredded chicken coated in wheat or manioc flour that have been shaped into a drumstick, and fried. A variation is stuffed with catupiry, a gooey white melting cheese reminiscent of Laughing Cow. Like crack. Crack.
Queijadinhas: These irresistable little cheese custards are a popular snack in Brazil. Like Pringles, stopping at just one is nearly impossible.
Pão de queijo: Made with tapioca or wheat flour, these light, cheesy rolls are among the most popular breads in Brazil.
Backpacking. We call traveling from city to city for a long period of time “backpacking” because we usually carry very few possessions with us in – wait for it – a backpack. But, what about the travelers who are doing the same exact thing, staying in hostels, eating street food, wearing the same clothes everyday and trying desperately to get off the beaten path, but with a suitcase? Are they not backpackers?
I remember my first solo backpacking trip. I was 21 and going to Europe. To my mother, I agonized over and over again about needing the perfect backpack.
“Wouldn’t a small rolling suitcase be easier to manuever?” she asked, eyeing my tiny 5’2″ frame.
I scowled. “No, it must be a backpack.”
“But, why?”
To this question I never quite knew what to say. “Well, you know, because it’s called backpacking, not suitcase-ing.”
In reality, I actually did want to use a small suitcase. It wasn’t the amount of stuff I could take that was bothering me – after testing it out, the backpack fit way more than the small roll-on – but more the thought of actually having to carry a giant bag on my back in the hot European summer sun.Once in Europe, I still agonized over my decision. Having the backpack did make me feel like I had a certain “backpacker status,” however, I wasn’t convinced it was actually more practical. It was annoying having to unpack all my things when I needed something from the bottom of my bag, and walking uphill with the pack on was extremely draining. Moreover, because it was summer I constantly felt overheated wearing it.
Now, after numerous backpacking trips around the world, I’ve learned a few things. For one, getting the right backpack can make or break a trip. For example, in Ireland I found a small hiking shop and tried on one of their smaller packs just for fun. Instantly, I was amazed at how much more comfortable it was than the one I had. I ended up buying it and ditching my old one, wasting a lot of money but gaining much happiness. Additionally, there are many features that vary from pack to pack. If you don’t want to unload your things every time you need something from the bottom, consider a front-loading pack instead of one that is top-loading. Moreover, a cooling system on the back of the pack can keep you from sweating, and multiple adjustable straps with padding can be helpful. I also think backpacks with many different pockets and compartments are helpful, as it can help you stay organized.
I’m still not sure where I stand on the “needing a backpack to be a backpacker issue,” and I’ve heard very mixed opinions on the subject. While a backpack is definitely easier to store while in a crowded hostel dorm and carry around when you’re in a hurry, I don’t think I would discount a person with the same travel style just for using a suitcase.
What are your thoughts on needing a backpack to be a backpacker?
While traveling, the expenses of long-distance communication can be difficult to handle. Spending $20 for a call that is less than five minutes is absurd, but without the use of outside apps and tools, is often the case when abroad. Luckily there’s Viber, a 100% free mobile app that allows you to talk, text and share photos without spending a cent.
I learned about the mobile app during a backpacking trip in Argentina. Eating lunch in a Buenos Aires cafe, I noticed my travel companion sending texts and uploading photos without abandon, while my phone sat turned off and untouched in my bag. Unfortunately for me, calls from Argentina to the United States cost $5 per minute with texts being $1 each. When I asked her how she was able to communicate so freely without worrying about the costs, she told me about Viber. As long as you’re in a Wi-Fi zone and the person you’re communicating with uses Viber, the communications are completely free. Moreover, even when using 3G, you will only be charged the rate of your 3G plan and not for roaming.
“Viber-to-Viber mobile calls and texts will always be free and ad-free,” explains Daniel Twigg, PR Consultant for Viber. “We plan to offer premium services for even more customization, such as inexpensive calls to people who don’t yet have Viber, as well as ringtones and wallpapers.”
So how does Viber differ from the other free international calling services that exist? According to Twigg, their main competitors are What’s App, Skype and Tango. While What’s App has a great platform for texting, Viber places more of an emphasis on multiple communication platforms. In terms of Skype, Twigg believes the multiple changes in ownership and late jump on the mobile app scene have made it hard for them to stay ahead in the market. For example, most people still see Skype as a desktop product. Tango features an excellent video experience; however, Viber offers voice and text, which has helped their growth greatly.
Viber is available on iPhone and Android. Once downloaded, you will be able to immediately see who from your contacts is also using the app. According to Twigg, the app has over 60 million users and is growing by more than 200,000 new users each day. It’s completely free, so you have nothing to lose by trying it for yourself on your next trip. To learn more and download the app, click here.
Right now, as you read this, there are pink flamingos and wild llamas running amok on the shores of a red lake in Bolivia. In a land far, far away, people are watching the sunrise amidst steaming geysers while dodging puddles of boiling mud. There are hot springs where you can bathe nude at 15,000 ft, hotels made entirely of salt, and rocks that look exactly like trees.
No, this isn’t peyote week in the Vagabond Tales office. I’m speaking of a real place, a place where I’ve been. It’s a place I’m officially labeling as the weirdest place on Earth. In addition to all of the other oddities this is also the world’s largest salt desert, and, as you might expect, this is a terrible place for your car to break down.
At 4,633 square miles Bolivia’s Salar de Uyuni is a vast sea of salt larger than Delaware and Rhode Island combined. Traffic is minimal and the roads are always shifting. If you get lost out here or lose your way you don’t simply call AAA or check your GPS. These don’t exist here in the southwestern hinterlands of Bolivia. If you get lost in the Salar de Uyuni, you start hoping that you aren’t going to die.
%Gallery-153780%Having booked a three-day crossing of the Salar with an adventure company out of the town of Uyuni it only took one hour before Juan Carlos, our driver, had donned a pair of faded blue coveralls to replace a flat tire on our trusty white land cruiser.
“Diez minutos” he reassured us with with a slightly embarrassed mumble. “No te preocupes“.
Don’t worry.
Standing just over 5′ 5” and sporting a thin black mustache, Juan Carlos, like so many other men in the Bolivian town of Uyuni, has a job which involves shuttling travelers across this mountainous netherworld.
Even before the flat tire incident our troupe of six travelers had already made a pit stop at a place known only as the “Train Cemetery”. Located only minutes from the outskirts of Uyuni-a windy, dusty, 12,000 ft. outpost where lips chap and heads ache-many of the locomotives which once dominated the Bolivian rail lines now appear as metal phalluses left to rust in the salty mountain air.
Now, with our lone spare tire firmly affixed to a rusty axle we saddled up the mechanical horse and headed straight for the great white unknown.
After bouncing around the back of the Land Cruiser for a couple of hours Juan Carlos eventually brought us to Isla Incahuasi, a cactus-covered dollop of an island floating all alone in the endless sea of salt. Literally, as far as you can see in every direction is a white horizon of nothingness. Here, strangely enough, it’s possible to amble among cacti which have thrived for over 1,000 years in one of the most inhospitable terrains on the planet.
Already awash in an alternate reality, Isla Incahuasi is also a place to tinker with the unique elements of perspective. Utilizing the endless horizon and deft usage of a digital camera it’s suddenly possible to take pictures where you appear to actually surf on a water bottle, sit in the palm of your girlfriend’s hand, or take a casual stroll down the handle of a guitar. The only thing missing is a smoking caterpillar and a smiling Cheshire cat.
As if the day hadn’t been strange enough already, that evening I somehow found myself licking the walls of my hotel room. In an empty basin where building materials are hard to come by, even the buildings are made from blocks of salt. So too are the beds, the windowsills, and the tables and chairs. Unfurling my sleeping bag onto a year’s worth of sodium I silently questioned if this place could get any stranger.
Never could I imagine, however, how strange it was about to get.
Not three hours after waking on a bed made of salt did I find myself chasing flamingos around a lake resembling an oversized peppermint. Fittingly known as “Laguna Colorada” (Colored Lake), the lake has a certain type of sediment which turns the water a blood shade of red. Blended with white islands made of borax deposits, the red and white color wheel almost seems to spin in the thin, 16,500 ft. air. Higher than any mountain peak in the 48 states, the altitude doesn’t seem to bother the flamingos, pink curiosities of nature who still sleep on one leg in spite of the 40 mph winds whipping across the plain.
Wanting nothing more than a restful sleep after a day spent navigating an environment straight out of a Dr. Seuss book, we instead were roused at 4am as part of a plan to watch the frigid sunrise. Though I have seen enough sunrises in my travels to warrant sleeping in through a 4am wakeup, never before had I been presented with the opportunity to watch the sunrise from the steaming caldera of an active volcano.
This is so strange I am going to repeat it.
The opportunity to watch the sunrise from the steaming caldera of an active volcano.
I’m not making this up. This is a place where you can literally jump through steaming geysers of sulfur which springs straight from the Earth. Don’t believe me? Look for the part where I momentarily appear to be on fire.
For as much fun as this might seem, when you are navigating the geysers of an active caldera there are nevertheless dangers intrinsic to such an activity. What dangers might exist inside of an active caldera you ask? What about accidentally stepping in a puddle of boiling mud?
Relaxing in a thermal hot spring after having escaped the confines of the active caldera I got to chatting with an Australian traveler who had also spent the last three days in the salt flats.
“You ever been anywhere like this before?” I casually inquired, the thin mountain air still having an effect on the ability to speak in long sentences.
“Never mate. This place is mental. It’s like I’ve gone to another planet and am afraid to return.”
