Lost Family of the Week: The Rennhacks

ADP: As style-savvy media chicks living in the city that gave rise to Project Runway and Daily Candy and Carrie Bradshaw, Jen, Holly and have I spent far more of our 20s contemplating the proper way to layer fall fashions (without looking bulky) and sprinting between post-work launch parties (without snapping a stiletto) than we ever did the topics of matrimony and motherhood. Okay, maybe we were the tiniest bit seduced by the Tacori wedding rings and Vera Wang gowns splashed across the pages of InStyle, but once we’d managed to cram a years worth of outfits inside of an interior frame backpack, our top priority became getting the RTW journey started—not settling down.

Traveling, however, has a funny way of flinging some unexpected lessons at you, and one of our first major curveballs came in the form of The Rennhack Family.

We met Leah, Rick and their four ferociously adorable kids at Ceiba Tops Resort midway through our stay in the Amazon. Even before we officially made introductions, I had noticed this tight knit group, with their Texas twangs and smiles so infectious that I felt happier just hanging out in the hammock next to them. Peeking out from my resting spot, I watched as the kids playfully teased and chased each other while the parents gestured animatedly about the oversized wildlife they’d spotted that day, occasionally pausing to jump in on their kids’ fun. Even from my slightly awkward vantage point, it was clear that this towheaded group had a pretty great thing going—they actually seemed to like hanging out with one other—and Leah and Rick hadn’t stopped traveling to exotic spots just because they’d brought four inquisitive bundles of energy into the world.

As fellow Southerners, it didn’t take long for the Leah and me to say hello, start gabbing and quickly get the scoop on each others lives. I was flattered when Leah not only told me how much she admired Jen, Holly and me for taking such an unexpected adventure, but shared The Lost Girls route and upcoming plans with her whole family. Rather than looking bored or indifferent, all four Rennhack kids seemed instantly fascinated by our upcoming plans and began firing questions in our direction.

“How many countries are you going to?”

“Will you see kangaroos when you get to Australia?”

“If you really go for a whole year, won’t your Mom and Dad miss you?”

From that point on, every time we saw them, they would shout, “There go The Lost Girls!” and run to join us for a monkey-petting excursion or to play cards on the huge riverboat, The Amazon Queen. While it was so much getting to know all of them, I have a big soft spot for nine-year-old Annie, who shared her opinions on the outfits worn by celebrities in an old copy of People Magazine (“Jennifer Anniston has a nice shape, don’t you think?”) gave me a huge, unexpected hug when I bought her Oreos on the last day of the trip.

We tried to plan one final ice cream outing with the Rennhacks on our way out of the jungle city of Iquitos, but somehow, we just missed their group by just a few minutes. A double scoop of chocolate chip, it seemed, was not in the cards.

As we sat in the scoop shop, savoring the first really cold, sweet treat we’d had in a week, Jen broke the subdued silence by admitting that hanging out with the Rennhacks had done a lot to change her perspective on becoming a Mom

“I don’t know guys, after this trip, I might actually be ready…”

Ready? The unfinished thought hung in the air, and after a few beats, Holly and I nodded, acknowledging that we might be ready, too. Parenthood, after all, didn’t have to bring a crashing halt to outrageous adventures and wild times abroad.

From what we’d just witnessed, with the right attitude, liberal parenting skills and a little bit of luck, a Lost Girl can always keep the global party going—even after she’s become a Lost Mom.

Welcome to the Jungle

Jen: When we first nominated Peru to be the inaugural country on our big jaunt around the world, there was one thing we all agreed on – exploring the jungle was non-negotiable! Sure, we’d all been in rainforests before in countries like Costa Rica, Belize and Guatemala, but saying you’ve trekked deep into the Amazon just sounded so much more bad ass. So of course, The Lost Girls absolutely had to do it.

To fully satisfy our desire for danger (Note to parents: this term is used only to add drama to our story), we planned a five-day excursion into the heart of the Amazon wilderness that began with a quick flight to Iquitos (the jungle capital and largest city in the world not accessible by road). From there, we took a large riverboat, the Amazon Queen, past remote tribal villages through piranha-invested waters (we laugh at killer fish) to our jungle lodge - Ceiba Tops. Check out our tales of intrigue, adventure and animal encounters below:


Getting High
Pumped full of malaria medication, our water bottles topped to the brim and SPF 30 in tow, we felt amply prepared to explore our steamy surroundings. Like most jungle lodges in Peru, ours conducted daily group excursions, designed to be gringo-friendly, yet still pack an adrenaline-inducing punch. Our first stop: The Canopy Walkway, an unbelievable series of suspension bridges that hang high (and I mean high) above the rainforest canopy. The guidebooks aren’t kidding when they say this experience is not for the faint of heart - or the elevationally challenged. Dangling almost 80 feet in the air on narrow bridges that creaked and shook with every step, we felt more like characters in an Indiana Jones film than Amazon explorers. With 14 bridges ahead of us, we snaked our way through the treetops across each one, getting braver and faster by the minute. We even navigated some with no hands! Fortunately there were a few makeshift platforms nestled in the huge tree trunks that provided a welcome rest and a chance to snap amazing aerial views of the sprawling rainforest below. By the time we made it to the end, we were practically swinging through the vines with excitement, the rush of ‘near death’ surging through our bodies. Even after our feet touched solid ground, we all agreed - this was one high well worth the come down!


Monkeying Around
As animal lovers, we were intrigued the second we heard about Monkey Island. Located a few miles down the river from our lodge, the isolated area is home to 8 different species of monkeys that are cared for and protected as part of a wildlife preservation project. Created to be the ultimate petting zoo, the island provides more adventurous tourists with the opportunity to interact directly with its inhabitants, who are supposedly people friendly. Hmm, we’d soon find out.

As we crept through the rainforest en route to the site, we could hear their distinctive calls radiating through the trees. Was there really such a place where tons of monkeys roamed freely just waiting for us to come play with them? As soon as we came to the clearing, we realized that this strange planet of the apes really did exist. Swinging from trees, running through the fields and leaping from board to board on a huge man made platform were more wild animals than in Times Square at rush hour. We went running toward the main monkey pen like kids racing to get the best swing on the playground. Clearly very accustomed to humans, the monkeys didn’t even flinch. In fact, they crept towards us hoping we might have a snack for them. The groundskeepers quickly handed us a soft white fruit that resembled a banana to feed our newfound friends and, of course, lure them closer for the ultimate photo opt. With our cameras at the ready, Amanda, Holly and I took turns coaxing los monos into our arms. We were pleasantly surprised by how sweet they were. Unfortunately, there is always seems to be a bad one in every bunch.

Out of nowhere, one of the larger monkeys swung down from the rafters, jumping onto Holly’s head. Possibly mistaking her as food, the crazy little beast grabbed at her hair and nibbled on her shoulder. Holly shrieked and twirled around in circles, trying to throw him off. Between fits of laughter, we came to Holly’s aid, trying to coax the overzealous monkey off her back with our remaining pieces of fruit. While we did manage to get him off of her, it proved only to be a temporary fix. We’d merely refocused his attention on another victim…me. I screamed as the cheeky little monkey attacked again, scrambling up my arm and gnawing on my hand. While my focus was to get him off me as quickly as possible, Amanda had another idea. “This is great stuff; I must get this on camera,” she exclaimed. “What? Are you crazy?” I managed to eek out in between wrestling rounds with my furry opponent. “Come on, Jen. Just a few more seconds and I’ll have the moment on tape. It’ll be excellent fodder for our blog.” Oh. Well if you put it that way! What’s a limb in the name of art?

In the end, we managed to get a ton of hilarious photos and video in exchange for only a few teeth marks on our arms – a worthy sacrifice (Note to parents: The monkeys were perfectly healthy and disease free; plus no skin was ever broken). We realized that all the hyper active monkey wanted was a little attention, so once we’d doted on him enough, he happily settled into our arms like a sleeping baby.

We spent the rest of the afternoon exploring the island, snapping pictures and playing with our new fuzzy friends. Racing around like kids in a candy shop, we soaked in the magic of our newfound paradise, until we were brought back down to reality by our tour guide asking us to head to the boat.

Prior to our visit to Monkey Island, we thought such a place only existed in our childhood fairytales - painted in our imaginations by incredible storybook tales. But in the end, it took a journey into the jungle as adults for us to discover the true meaning of where the wild things are!



Charlie’s Angels
While taking a pit stop at a neighboring lodge, we made an absolutely amazing discovery: The ROUS species really does exist! For those of you who have no idea what I’m talking about, please stop whatever you are doing, sit down immediately in front of the TV and watch / re-watch the Princess Bride as many times as it takes to have all the classic one-liners memorized. Really, I insist! For my fellow film buffs out there, I’m sure I had you at “ROUS”, but for everyone else, please read on for an explanation.

Fortunately for The Lost Girls, our first encounter with a Rodent Of Unusual Size was love at first sight. Meet Charlie (he's the furriest one in the group shot), the lodge’s resident capybara, and the largest rodent in the world. Normally, the idea of coming face to face with a gerbil-like creature bigger than a small child would send us screaming and running for higher ground (I mean, we’re not The Lost Boys, after all). But one look at Charlie’s sweet little face and sleepy eyes and he immediately won us over. He even performed tricks like rolling over on his side when we’d rub his nose and tilting his head just so whenever our cameras would click. He happily played the role of our favorite jungle pet, soaking in all the time we were spending playing with him and loving every minute. As several other tourists began to approach Charlie, we made a rather humorous observation – like a typical male, he’d perk up a bit whenever a woman would approach. It didn’t take long before one thing become obvious - he clearly favored attention from the ladies. Luckily for Charlie, he had three little angels by his side!


Jungle Love
The one thing that captured our attention (and our hearts) the most was the warm welcome we received from the locals inhabiting the small towns along the Amazon River. Even with an unlimited choice of tours available to us, one of our favorite excursions turned out to be an impromptu visit to the nearby village of Indiana. Despite the extreme jungle heat, we had a surprising amount of energy that needed to be burned off. So we asked our guide, Cliver, if there was a safe place we could go for a run or a hike. “Of course, Princesas,” he replied. “I will take you to a town where I know everyone and the people are happy to have visitors.” So we hopped in a little motorboat and sped up the river to the village. Holly, the resident runner of the group, went for a light jog, while Amanda and I chose to explore the town with a vigorous hike. We passed tons of townspeople along the way who would usually let out a little giggle (probably at our pasty, white skin) or a loud “Hello” (how did they guess we spoke English?). After an hour of trekking through muddy fields and a few too close encounters with some grazing bull cows, we headed back to the main square where we started.

There, a crowd of the most adorable kids we’d ever seen greeted us. They gathered around us for pictures and squealed in delight as they saw themselves on our digital cameras (a favorite travel trick of ours). As Amanda and Holly continued to play with the kids, I joined in on a nearby soccer game. I guess they’d never really seen a girl play before, because their mouths dropped when I kicked the ball far across the field and cheered when I juggled the ball seven times in a row. It was seriously one of the coolest moments I’ve ever had on the road.

Completely hot and sweaty from our afternoon of adventure, we hopped on the back of motorbikes to cool off. Our drivers were three guys from town who gave guided tours of the surrounding area for 10 soles a piece, about $3 (Note to parents: yes, they were very safe and licensed drivers). As we sped off into the sunset, it was clear, we had found a new appreciation and love for the Amazon people and the jungle towns less visited.


Ready, Set, Blow
One excursion we were most looking forward to, was a visit to a nearby village to meet the Yagua Indians, an indigenous tribe best known for its expertise in blowgun hunting. Not only would we be able to participate in an ancient religious ceremony, we would be officially inducted into the 2006 Class of B.H.I.T.s (Blowgun Hunters In Training). What more could a girl want? After a brisk hike through the Amazon, we arrived panting and dripping with sweat to the entrance of the tiny Yagua town. What little breath we had left in us was immediately taken away by the sight of this strange new world.

Peeking out from behind the doorways of palm-thatched huts, resting under trees and hand weaving traditional garb silently in the shade, were the most alluring and mesmerizing people I’d ever laid eyes on. It felt like we’d stepped back into a time when the Amazon was untouched and the term gringo had yet to be invented. Before we had a chance to process exactly where we were, our tour guide ushered us into a large hut flanked with bushy reeds, located in the center of the village. We took a seat on thick wooden stools and watched in awe as the Yagua elders begin singing and dancing around in circles, the swish from their grass skirts and long wigs filling the air. Our guide explained that the tribe was performing a traditional dance that paid homage to the rain god and told us we were welcome to take pictures and video. Normally that news would be a welcome offer to our snap happy tourist fingers, but it felt a little odd to bear witness to an ancient tribal ritual with our 21st century devices. But a few encouraging smiles from chief and invites for audience participation made us feel better about capturing the moment.

After several turns around the teepee with our new friends, we were led outside for our next challenge: to master the art of shooting a blowgun. We kindly offered up Holly to be the practice target, but our little joke flew right over the chief’s headdress. He simply shrugged and pointed to a wooden post in the ground about 20 feet away. We watched as the village men loaded tiny wooden stick into the mouthpiece of long hollow tubes, took aim and blew. One after the other, their darts landed squarely in the middle of the target. I wouldn’t want these guys hunting me, that’s for sure! The girls and I each took turns with the gun, surprised at how a light puff was enough to send our ‘ammo’ whizzing through the air. Holly and Amanda each made theirs on the first try and after a few misfires, I finally got one into the poll as well. Satisfied with our newly acquired blowgun hunter status, we thanked our instructors profusely and went off to explore the village.

As we walked around, stopping to check out the handicrafts sold by the locals, we couldn’t help but wonder. Was our presence actually benefiting the community or were we contributing to the demise of an almost extinct culture? There was no denying this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for us. I mean, we were interacting first-hand with one of the most ancient groups in the Amazon rainforest. But somehow we doubted the Yagua would count a bunch of tourists photographing them as a blessing. Fortunately our fears were soon quelled when Peter Jenson, an anthropologist from Wisconsin who founded the lodge we were staying in, explained the repercussions of us not bringing our dollars into this village. “The only way to keep locals from cutting down the rainforest is to show them they can make more money by protecting it,” he said. We learned that tourism not only helps feed the economy, but it also provides an incentive for indigenous tribes to preserve their traditions and continue to study their native language. Sure, in a perfect world, everyone would do their part to keep the people and the beauty of the Amazon safe. But in the meantime, The Lost Girls are happy to lend six helping hands.

--- Jen

Puno and Titicaca: Smells just about right

ADP: Jen, Holly and I had stayed longer in Cuzco, Peru than almost any other gringo we'd met--nearly three weeks--and I was starting to feel like we'd simply relocated to a new town. It was time to journey on.

We decided to brave the sub-zero winter temperatures and move even higher through the Andes to Lake Titicaca, a vast, high-mountain basin with a name that makes even grown-up girls such as ourselves smirk unapologetically. Warned by backpackers moving in the opposite direction to pass through the lakeside town of Puno as quickly as possible ("it's a slum" was the most oft-heard quote), we arranged to stay just a single night in order to visit the lake's famous floating islands.

After a jarring eight-hour train ride, we were unceremoniously dumped at the station and left to fight our way though the hagglers, taxi drivers and touts all wrestling with one another to gain our attention and cash.

Lady! I have room for you, very good-cheap price!

You want go to Islas Floatantes? I take you there! You come with me!

Hands grabbed as the mob closed in behind but we pushed our way through. Emerging breathless and significantly more surly on the other side, we managed to find our way in the rapidly falling darkness to the only hostel to garner a "thumbs up" from our Let's Go guidebook. The profile boasted "sweeping views of the lake from the rooftop terrace," "huge windows in every room" and "dapper Don Victor himself strolling the grounds."

We realized within a few minutes of arrival that the pimple-faced, pre-adolescent writers covering this section of Peru had clearly taken poetic license with their coverage (or quite possibly, had never seen the place at all). Not only did the freezing, florescent-lit room look like a prison cell, smell like a rotten egg and have translucent window cubes overlooking the hallway, the "sweeping views" could only been seen from a filthy, unfinished roof where Don Victor's pants hung from a frayed clothes line. To make matters more disconcerting, it appeared that we were the only travelers staying the night.

Exhausted and feeling dirty from our long ride and the subsequent walk through town, we turned on the shower only to realize where the sulfurous smell originated from. Not improving matters: the odiforous water ran cold and leaked all over the floor thanks to a woefully inadequate shower curtain.

Poo-no, indeed. The town certainly lived up to its crapola-sounding name.

Descending the stairs once again to grab a meal that, hopefully, wouldn't give us an intestinal infection, we did run into Don Victor. If you squinted, I guess he could be described as dapper. But the grounds? Other than the tiny, laminate tile reception area, there was nothing resembling a "ground" to be seen.

As Dapper Don unlocked the 17 bolts securing the front door, yanked up the steel gate and and shooed us off into the night, the three of us tumbled down the street wide-eyed and edgy.

We just hoped that those lovely sounding Islas Floatantes would be worth wading all the Titicaca it was taking us to get there.

Charity Cases? An LG quandary

ADP: In a post earlier this month, we wrote about how the angel-faced children of Peru had the power to melt both our hearts and our resolve: Quite often Hol, Jen and I often would save our spare change just so we could distribute it among the palms of little ones who wanted to buy candy. While my conscience told me that this might not be the most effective way to help, it was my know-it-all ex boyfriend who gave me the download in no uncertain terms.

After hearing about my daily "contributions," he wrote to tell me that simply handing over cash is probably the worst thing I could do for these kids. As he put it, the ones begging on the streets are usually are forced to do so by their parents, who either keep the money to feed themselves or worse, use it to buy booze or drugs. Another group of travelers working in a local Peruvian school told us that some young kids are made to sell trinkets and cigarettes so late into the night that by the time school rolls around, they're too exhausted to do much more than sleep and drool at their desks.

This line of reasoning gave me major pause. I understood that providing handouts might not be the best way to improve these kids' lives...but I still wrestled with the idea of doing something cool for the hungry ones without causing trouble. The Ex, a purist, believes that you shouldn't even give a skinny kid a candy bar (and I thought his not paying for dates was stingy!) because it perpetuates begging. Jen and Hol are still believers in doing something, even if its giving a child a box of crayons or a pack of crackers. As for me--I've got one hand in my pocket, but have no idea if I should keep digging for change.

I'd love to know what you think...is charity abroad a bad thing? Is there a time and a place to be generous? Whether you're a traveler, a parent or just have an opinion, drop us a post below.

A Taste of Peru

Swap your typical cocktail for a Pisco Sour, Peru’s national drink, with this recipe from the Miraflores Park Hotel in Lima, Peru:
• 3 ounces pisco, available at most liquor stores (any type of grape brandy works as a substitution)
• ¾ ounce juice from a limon or key lime
• 1 ounce sugar water
• ½ ounce egg whites
• Add ice, blend until smooth and top with bitters
Makes two servings

My Reminder to Have Faith in People

I left my backpack with the staff for safekeeping while visiting a jungle lodge 25 miles downriver from the Amazon city of Iquitos. When I got it back with my wallet and camera gone, it was hard not to draw conclusions.

Not wanting to accuse the employees, I ransacked my room before notifying my tour guide, Cliver. I vowed I’d keep the “missing” valuables a secret if they mysteriously resurfaced.

Cliver looked horrified and swore not even a coin had ever been stolen on the property. He looked behind the bar where bags were usually stored, reached into a locked box, and (voila!) pulled out my stuff.

Apparently, the guy working the previous shift removed them because the resident pet kinkajou—a marsupial resembling a racoon with a long tail—has a habit of going through guests’ bags and stockpiling goodies.

“The kinkajou has expensive taste,” said Amanda. Sure enough, I noticed my leather wallet was littered with teeth marks just as the little beast wrapped its tail around my ankle and nibbled on my pants. Only in Peru would a marsupial, not a person, be responsible for thievery. Sometimes real life is wilder than fiction.
HCC

Mug Shots

While drivers license photos still take top prize for their sheer ugliness (holy crap, did they have to zoom right in on my gross zit??!), passport photos often score a close second, making even a vibrant and a freshly coifed Lost Girl look like Mel Gibson after swallowing the worm at the bottom of tequila bottle. If only there was a way to snap a good photo, so that we could show off the stamps in our passports without cringing over the criminal image inside.

Well now, finally, there's a way to use our own fabulous photos instead paying $5.00 a pop to end up with a passport mug shot. Thanks to savvy Lost Girls World reader Shelley Lennon, we found out about E-Passport Photo, a new site that lets you upload and resize your own digital photos to meet strict government requirements. Not only is the service totally free, you can ensure that for the next 10 years, you'll be itching to show off your super-fly portrait to every customs official from El Salvador to Singapore.

Lattes, Lindsay Lohan and Other Luxuries

As seasoned travelers, we’ve each developed an unofficial code of conduct to live by whenever we go global. Some collective Lost Girls’ road rules, include: Always attempt to speak the language; avoid typically American faux pas (e.g. acting like your country’s rules apply abroad); and whenever possible, opt for more “real” experiences by choosing the road less touristed. So when we stumbled upon a Starbucks in Lima during our first few days of the trip, we all vehemently agreed on one thing: curing our caffeine fix here would mean majorly selling out! Instead, we found a cute local café overlooking the sea where we happily sipped steaming cups of coffee for a mere 2 soles a piece (approximately 75 cents). It was such a proud moment; we were off to an amazingly authentic start to our trip. Little did we know how easily we could be swayed back to the “dark side”!

Fast forward about six weeks: After braving sub-arctic temperatures at high elevations, hostels with little or no hot water, bathrooms that would frighten health inspectors – all while wearing the same 2 or 3 outfits – our resolve to stay true to our traveling mantras was quickly fading. Don’t get me wrong, we were having an absolute blast on the trip and had no desire to leave; but we desperately needed a little R&R, especially after such a whirlwind tour of Peru – we’d traversed over half the country, hitting six different cities and even dashing into Bolivia for a few days. We were utterly exhausted!

Enter Starbucks, Act 2: In order to catch a flight to the Amazon Basin (and secure visas to Brazil prior to departure), we headed up the southern coast back to Lima – and back to the original scene of the near-coffee crime. But this time, it went a little something like this:
Amanda: “Oh my God! I just remembered there’s a Starbucks right around the corner at Larco Mar (an ocean side mall in Miraflores).”
Holly: “That would be awesome, guys. We could grab a hot latte before we go for a jog by the water.”
Jen: (No words) I break into a sprint, pushing past tourists and hurdling over benches to the entrance of my new favorite hang out spot.


It was quite a sight. You’d have thought we found the secret to eternal life in that world famous foam, as much as we oohed and aahed over our delicious (yet sugar free) drinks. We took over an entire section of the store, sinking deep into the comfy couches and relaxing to the international jazz tunes that twinkled from the overhead speakers. Hey, at least we could stay connected to our worldly values through music. We soaked in every familiar nuance Starbucks had to offer from racks of glossy magazines to the free flowing WiFi. Even the cost of our lattes was a treat, as the local price was around $3.25 compared to the whopping $5 we spend back home in Manhattan. It’s funny; a place we didn’t dare step foot into at the beginning of our trip became an unexpected sanctuary, magically curing our sense of homelessness.

Since we’d already given in to temptation, we decided to take it one step further. Well ten steps to be exact, right downstairs from Starbucks to the local movie theatre. After much, “I don’t care what we see, you decide. I don’t care, whatever you want” that us girls tend to do from time to time, we each thought it would be best for our tired brains to see something that required no thinking at all…

Enter Lindsay Lohan’s latest release: We’re not going to lie, when we saw the little hottie man on the poster for Just My Luck, we were sold. Three tickets, two boxes of popcorn and multiple Diet Cokes in hand, we settled into the plush theatre for what turned out to be one of the best afternoons we spent in Lima.

Grant it, after our little trip down American lane, we got right back into the Peruvian groove (think Pisco sours and steamy disco techs), but we never forget the important lessons we learned that day about traveling abroad. Seek comfort in the little things, never be embarrassed about who you are or where you come from and always remember: there’s no place like a self-made home away from home – especially when it comes with sugar-free vanilla lattes!

---Jen

Shameless Self Promotion: For Me

Just when you thought you couldn’t get enough of The Lost Girls, we’re hitting newsstands this month in the pages of For Me magazine, Woman’s Day’s sister publication for twenty- and thirty-somethings. My monthly column chronicling our on-the-road adventures debuts in the September issue, on sale now. I’m also writing a weekly blog at ForMe.com.

But don’t just buy it for my travel story (OK, do, but there’s more)—it’s loaded with practical relationship, money and fitness advice. It’s my favorite mag to write for because all the articles are really relatable.


The Lost Girls even did a photo shoot for the premiere story while still in New York City before embarking on our big trip. (Check out our photo gallery soon for more pics from the shoot). We had a blast getting our hair done and posing for photographer Joe Polillio (www.polillio.com).



Support our cause (world travel!) by picking up a copy of For Me (it’s only $1.95) or signing up for a subscription at ForMe.com.
HCC

Will Travel For Food

Jen: The Lost Girls may misplace our luggage or get turned around from time to time, but the one thing we rarely lose is our insatiable appetite (except when we discovered chicken feet floating in our soup). Before we left for this trip, I had visions of any excess lbs just melting away as we desperately searched Peru for something, anything, to eat that satisfied us (after all, we would be in a third world country). But instead, we discovered a magical land of foamy Pisco sours, mouth-watering brick oven pizza and chocolate bars at every turn (No joke! You can buy Twix on the Inca Trail). Since we were no longer bound to our desks and had plenty of time for afternoon jogs or hikes, we felt it would only be fair to allow ourselves to indulge in everything this country had to offer...our stomachs. After all, it was our duty as world travelers to shed light on the misconceptions others might have about Peruvian cuisine. Even though we’re on a tight budget, we took our responsibility very seriously!

Our typical day goes something like this:

9:30am – 12pm: Wake up and whine that it’s too early (if it was before 10am) or realize that we’ve slept in (11:30am) and may have possibly missed our free breakfast of stale bread, jam and freeze-dried, crystallized coffee. Oh, the horror! We race to the breakfast den of our hostel du jour for a quick bite. Stuff some extra pieces of bread in our bags for later and discuss where we want to go for lunch.
12pm – 2pm: Purchase a pre-lunch sundae or candy/popcorn/lollipops from local kids
4pm-6pm: (Lunch - meal times shift drastically in foreign countries) Fill our bellies with a delicious, yet super cheap pre-fixe menu. Five soles (approximately $1.50) can get you a bowl of creamy soup, arroz con pollo with French fries (a Peru staple), a yummy dessert and sometimes a glass of wine or Pisco sour.
8pm-10pm: (No Peruvian eats dinner much earlier) Grab a pre-dancing/drinking snack. Or kill two birds with one stone and indulge in a delicious dinner at a trendy restaurant that turns into a club or lounge later in the evening (if we skipped the 4pm-6pm lunch). Still a cheap evening as even our most expensive meal ran us only $45 total.
11pm-4am: Dance the night away, arrive back to our hostel at dawn with all of the other backpackers and flop down in our twin beds. Rinse and repeat!

To permanently memorialize our best finds to date, here is our top ten list of favorite foods and most interesting eating experiences in Peru:

1. Caramel Banana Pancakes - It didn’t take long for us to find the most amazing sweet treat in all of Cusco (Holly has the best dessert radar I’ve ever seen). We’d heard from every single traveler that the Irish and Aussie owned Jack’s restaurant was the absolute best, and they were absolutely right! Along with the uber thick pancakes smothered in caramel and topped with warm banana slices, we also found several other fave foods at this eatery, including #4 below.

2. Tacu Tacu – A native dish, this creamy blend of beans and rice can take on Taco Bell any day. One of our favorite restaurants in Lima, Tanta, served up a designer version topped with sautéed filet mignon and fried quail eggs. I ate the entire dish almost making myself too full to indulge in the birthday cake we had ordered for Amanda – but not quite!
3. Empanadas – As avid international diners, we’re no strangers to these hot pockets filled with meat, cheese, veggies or seafood. But now, with empanadas available everywhere from snack shacks to the airport food courts, we’ve became even more devoted devourers!
4. Veggie burgers – We thought we’d be more likely to find these healthy patties back home, but were delighted to stumble across several menus that offered meatless burger options. Between Jack’s restaurant in Cusco and the Rocha Hostel food stand in Haucachina, we more than tapped into our organic side – we overflowed it!
5. Alpaca – Some might cringe at the thought of tasting Peru’s ubiquitous furry friend (a cute little animal that’s a cross between a llama and a sheep), but the abundance of this dish, its low cal count and supposedly savory flavor, tempted our taste buds to the dark (meat) side. After sampling teriyaki alpaca medallions at Inka Grill in Cusco, we were hooked – and enticed to order it again on several occasions.
6. Quinoa – Packed with more protein than a Powerbar, this popular grain is en vogue across Peru, served in almost every dish imaginable. Our hands-down faves were the silver dollar pancakes from the Parador del Colca hotel in Colca Canyon and the creamy soufflé side dish from Inka Grill in Cusco.
7. Tropical Fruit – You’d often hear one of us at breakfast exclaim, “what is this that I’m eating, it’s delicious!” Peru is simply overflowing with fabulous fruits that we’ve never encountered on our native US soil. While we weren’t always sure what we were trying, we never hesitated to pack our plates with our most exotic fruit finds.
8. Sweet popcorn – With as much walking, hiking and general exploring we’ve been doing in Peru, we often went more hours between meals than most Hollywood starlets. Luckily, we discovered this tasty street treat that satisfied our sweet tooth and kept our blood sugar in check until dinner.
9. Brick Oven Pizza – While the thought of eating pizza seemed far to ‘American’ for our travel tastes, we couldn’t turn the corner without stumbling upon a half dozen different pizza pubs boasting the country’s best brick oven offerings. What we tried outdid even Ray´s Famous in NYC – but don´t tell Ray!
10. Fresh cantaloupe – If you should ever find yourself on a cruise boat sailing down the Amazon River with a melon in tow, but without a way to open it, no worries! Simply ask the friendly boat staff for a huge knife to cut your cantaloupe with. They don’t mind, really! Amanda successfully procured a machete-like object and voila! Fruit for everyone!

Hopefully Peru’s eclectic and scrumptious assortment of cuisine will be with us in spirit as we enter less food friendly nations, where fried insects are a delicacy and household pets are, gulp, sometimes served on a platter. I can feel my stomach getting flatter just thinking about it! Bon appetite!

--- Jen (aka The Yennifer in Peru)

How We: Paid for Everything

ADP: “Where are you from?” and “How long are you staying” are the questions we hear most frequently on the road, but what people back home are dying to know is: “How the heck can you afford to quit your job and spend a whole year bouncing around the globe?”

To put two popular notions rest: No, we’re not trust fund babies and we don’t have sugar daddies. The fun but little known fact is it’s actually much cheaper for us to travel for a year than it would be to maintain our cost of living back in the states. Seriously! If that seems too good to be true, consider that young Aussies, Brits, Israelis and the Irish all find a way to take gap year—it’s not considered a luxury, but a required right-of-passage into adulthood.

So, exactly how much does it cost to take a trip like ours? Well, you can get away with going abroad for as little as a few thousand dollars by sleeping cheap, not partying and working locally at hostel or a bar. As gals who appreciate laid back days and cocktails at night, we’re not in that ultra-thrifty category!

Between flights, lodging, food, drink, entertainment, internet, shopping trips and extras, we’ve estimated that we’ll need about $15,000 to hit more than a dozen countries around the world. That figure might seem like an exorbitant amount—until you consider it’s the same amount as our yearly rent in overpriced Manhattan.

Still, as most of our pals in Gotham are struggling to save enough for a summer share or a single coveted pair of Jimmy Choos, they wonder how we socked away that kind of cash in our 20s. Well, since everyone seems to want a peek at our bank balances and checkbook registers, we’ll just lay it all out here on the blog. Here are five ways we’ve turned ourselves into our own travelin’ sugar mamas…

· Savings: While “spend less, save more” is probably the only piece of advice less fun than “eat less, exercise more” the resulting nest egg accounts for the bulk of our travel budget. Jen’s parents invested in a bond for her when she was young, and she’s chosen to cash part of it in order to hopscotch the globe with her friends. Once Holly got a job that paid more than starvation wages, she started depositing a portion of her salary into a savings account automatically, every single month. As for me, I worked a full-time editing gig at Shape magazine and kept up my freelancing for the five months leading up the trip. It was a lot of work---but I nearly doubled my savings and will hopefully have enough to move back to NYC once this fantastic year is up!

· Work: As media gals, our jobs didn’t exactly stop the second we took off…in fact, our experience in magazines and television enabled us to score cool assignments with publications like For Me magazine, Car & Travel, inWedding (a Hong Kong based publication) and Fodors.com. Yes, it sometimes sucks trying to write articles when there’s a gorgeous white sand beach beckoning, but the cash we make for these pieces goes way, way further in a developing nation than it does in crazy-expensive Manhattan. Depending on the word rate, one piece might cover our cost of living for two weeks, one month…or more!

· Cheap destinations: One of the fastest ways to run out of cash? Travel to countries where the local currency is strong—and the dollar is weak. Right now, that’s almost anywhere in Europe…the Euro kicks our greenback’s ass! Since the three of us have already hopped the pond and hit France, Spain and Italy in our early 20s, we decided to go a bit more exotic in our late 20s and visit some of the world’s most popular “alternative” destinations. In countries such as Brazil and Turkey, a good night’s sleep (plus everything listed above) will set us back about $35 per day, but we’ll “subsidize” that cost by spending the rest of our trip in $15- and $25-a-day nations such as Bolivia, India and Vietnam. Besides flights, our only major expense will be paying for secure volunteer programs in Kenya and Tanzania—a charity opportunity we feel is well worth the cost. Australia, our final stop, will be more expensive but we’re hoping to get work visas so we can…

· Fun jobs abroad: We’ve been told that getting a job on the road is one of the best ways to get to know a place and start replenishing depleted coffers. Since the land down under is somewhat pricey, we’re hoping to fulfill our collective ambitions to tend bar at some beachfront pub or secure a part time gig at a hostel.

· Unexpected assignments: Every travel writer dreams of the day when she’ll check her email and find an assignment to cover a far-flung destination for an upscale magazine. When you get one—as I did within the first few weeks of arriving in Peru—you jump for joy, because the assignment almost always “requires” spending a couple nights in a fancy-shmancy hotel. For budget-travelers such as ourselves, crashing in a dreamy hotel not only gives our wallets a bit of a break, but allows us to recover from the other 360 nights that we’re spending in dorm rooms with no heat, privacy or running water. We know travel writing this isn’t an option for everyone, but its nice work if you can get it!!

-ADP

Bug bites, burns, electrocution and other reasons not to stay home...

ADP: Spotting Scarlet Macaws in the Amazon and watching the sunrise over Machu Picchu may be the stuff of adventure travel fantasies, but you haven't really lived (or perhaps, appreciated living) until you've had 220 Volts of electricity running through your left arm.

That's what happened to me when I failed to understand the instructions on the adapter kit that allows us to convert the energy in our hotel rooms to a form that won't blow up our cameras and laptop when we charge them. With one half of the adapter sitting tentatively in the socket, I thoughtlessly pushed it all the way in the flat part of my palm, not realizing that by doing so, I was completing the circuit that would send white-hot lightening rods of power into my body.

In the space of about 14 nanoseconds, I screeched so loud that Jen and Hol thought I'd been bitten by ginormous rat, yanked my hand from the wall and dove headlong atop the bed across the room from where they sat, mouths agape.

When I finally had the nerve to look down at my smarting palm, I fully expected to find the kind of char marks that you'd find on a Burger King whopper, but my hand only suffered the indignity of being attached to such a mentally challenged owner. Nearly electrocuting myself isn’t one of my prouder moments, but as I’ve also burned my leg on a motorcycle tailpipe, busted ass falling down the stone steps of a convent in Cusco, nearly bucked off a wild horse in Chincha Alta and covered head to toe with mosquito and chigger bites in the Amazon jungle, I’ve started to accept that travel mishaps are a part of well, traveling.

Sometimes I wonder if it would have been a lot safer if I’d just stayed home (actually, our mothers are convinced of that fact), but fortunately, I’ve got two friends to remind me that we dealt with far greater “disasters” in NYC…

Holly: Got her wallet stolen at the Starbucks on 51st and Broadway during one of our many meetings to plan this trip.

Jen: Fell down the subway stairs at Times Square on a mad dash to leave work. No bones broken, but she added one more scar to her soccer knees—and experienced major mortification on the way down.

Amanda: Had her passport snatched a bar during the big blizzard of 2005, requiring an emergency trip to a government office to replace it.

In an effort to keep their babies safe, our moms have taken to forwarding their Lost Girls a constant stream of State Department bulletins, warning us to stay away from just about every single destination on our itinerary. But while cities such as Lima, Nairobi and Rio have a worldwide reputation for being dangerous, New York isn’t exactly a modern day Mayberry. In the weeks before we left, the headlines decried shootings, muggings and bus accidents—all within blocks of our Upper West Side apartment.

And even now, threats of terrorism may continue to plague travelers (we were so upset to read about the arrests in London yesterday), but as New Yorkers who witnessed the 9/11 attacks firsthand, we can attest to the fact that bad stuff can happen anywhere—even in your own backyard.

So, rather that steer clear of life-altering adventures just because there’s some element of risk involved, we've pressed on, trying to keep our eyes open, our backpacks locked and a roll of medical tape on hand. Because the only thing less cool than running into a little trouble on the road—-is avoiding the journey altogether.

Surfing the Dunes on a Sand-Board

HCC: Lost Girls are in love with Huacachina, a desert oasis town on Peru’s southern coast. What makes it so special? Besides being a backpacker’s haven (we live to mingle), it’s also the sand-boarding capital of the world.

We first heard of the sport from other travellers who raved about the experience, which is akin to snowboarding except you sail down over 100 feet high dunes instead of snow-capped mountains. I thought it’d be pretty tame, since sand makes for a slower ride since it’s less slippery than powder. Plus, I’ve surfed before, which kind of requires the same type of balance.





The Lost Girls weren’t prepared for this ultimate adrenaline rush, thanks to the sheer enormity of the dunes (we’d never seen any much taller than a sandcastle) and the fact that the driver of our dune buggy taking us to the hills was certifiably insane. He told us his name was Victor, but after operating our vehicle at top speeds over steep drop offs, we refer to him as Diablo (or “devil” in Spanish).

Call me lucky, but I got a front row seat of the action since I was the last one in to hop in. There was nothing separating my view from the stomach-dropping torture Diablo sadistically enjoyed inflicting.



The whole ordeal was all highs and lows, literally. It’d be smooth sailing in the dune buggy, but then I’d spy Diablo’s lips curl in a mischievous smile as he’d hit the gas and send us straight down a cliff. We actually got all four tires completely off the ground on multiple occasions. By the time he drove us back up to the top of a new dune so we could surf down, my legs were so shaky I could hardly stand.

I lost all concern for social mores as I screamed my head off, vowed to the gods I’d be a better person if they just let me survive the ordeal and desperately clutched the arms of the two strangers next to me (unfortunately, one of them happened to be the driver).

Apparently, Amanda and Jen welcome near-death experiences because they weren’t crying for their mommy like me and actually admitted they’d (gasp!) do it again. Maybe they’re somehow related to Diablo.

And, just to verify Diablo’s truly sadist nature, he stopped by the hostel bar that night where our tour group was celebrating surviving the experience with a few cocktails, and proceeded to put out a lit cigarette on his tongue before swallowing it whole. After voicing my disbelief and shock, he performed the move all over again.

My first thought: Are cigarettes like gum in that they take seven years to digest? My second: It’s obvious that any psychopath who can walk can get a dune buggy license in Peru.

A warning to the faint of heart—and our mothers: Don’t watch this short video clip of our adventure. Everyone else, feel free to click below (coming soon). Surfs up!

HCC