We find ourselves in Chulumani, a town at 6,000 feet in the sub-tropical Yungas, at the end of a grueling 4 and a half hours down a twisty, bumpy dirt road. It was another beautiful ride, topping out at 15,000 feet along the peaks of the Andes, then past sheer cliffs down to the jungle. Surprisingly, we have fallen completely off the gringo trail. As far as we can tell, we are the only foreigners in this town of papaya and flor del fuego trees. We listen to the sounds of the birds and dusk and dawn. Nabokov would have enjoyed all the butterflies that accompany us on our walks.
We have taken a healthy, adult attitude throughout this trip, consistently opting to take a step up in our accommodations. To date, we have always had an attached bathroom and, whenever possible, we have taken a room with a view. Here are a few to date:
Cuzco, Peru
Ollanta, Peru
Pisac, Peru
Copacabana, Bolivia
Sorata, Bolivia
La Paz, Bolivia
Chulumani, Bolivia
Posted from La Paz (again). Next stop: Sucre.
It’s amazing how La Paz has mushroomed. You enter the city from El Alto, high on the Altiplano. Once an outpost located on the rim of the valley in which La Paz sits, it is now super developed, with traffic to match.
Coming into La Paz is like arriving at the Grand Canyon. You come up to the edge of the valley and the city sprawls out below you, climbing the canyon walls, with 21,000 foot Mt. Illimani in the distance. The city is full of commerce, people and cars, superimposed on a colonial grid of streets and very narrow sidewalks. 
It is truly amazing how the city climbs up the sides of the valley. 
We were delighted to discover the old, sedate La Paz with its lunch rooms (3 courses $2) and cafes, where the civil servants, bankers and retirees all dressed in their suits and ties eat, drink and pass the day with tango music playing in the background as if it were still 1932.
Still, modernity reigns!
Tomorrow we return to the warmer climes of Chulumani and the Yungas.
The trip from Copacabana to Sorata is one of the ‘wow’ rides of the world. First we had to get beyond the Lake. That meant crossing the Straits of Taquina, where everyone disembarked the bus for a funky boat ride across the Lake at its narrowest point (½ mile) while the bus went on its own ferry, all overseen by the Bolivian Navy. At the end of the Lake in Huarina we got off our bus and stood by the side of the road hoping that there would be something going to Sorata. After half an hour, a 12 seat mini-van filled with Aymara Indians stopped to pick us up, and the ride began.
We slowly went up the high plain rising from the Lake. At times you could see the full scale of Lake Titicaca in the distance. We rose higher and higher to the base of Mt. Illampu, a 21,000 foot giant. Then, the road flattened. We went by Illampu and the altiplano collapsed into steep valleys dramatically dropping to the jungle far below. We swerved along the canyons edges losing altitude until we arrived at Sorata, 8,900 feet, a sub-tropical haven, where the air is thick enough to breath.
We came to this town in the Yungas for a little R&R. Sorata is a market town in the shadow of Illampu full of traditionally dressed Aymara Indian ladies in their bowler hats, wide skirts with petticoats and shawls selling everything from potatoes of every description to fruits and vegies, and even snake oil remedies! 
We happened upon the 2nd Annual Cherimoya festival at the town square. Yummy, too! 
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This is the first town we’ve been to that’s off the gringo trail; there are some foreigners in town, but only a few compared to the mobs in Cuzco and Copacabana. Sorata goes on about its business, not dependent on tourism, which is refreshing.
Sitting by the Lake which is still so beautiful. 
Pictures can’t capture what it feels like to sit by this vast expanse of blue.
The surprise is that the town of Copacabana has changed so much. It has grown into the consummate tourist town it never used to be, with a strip of pie shops (with wi-fi) leading down to the quay where everyone boards boats to the Isla del Sol and the locals ride duck paddle boats when they come on vacation. 
We certainly can’t complain. We’ve come here too. And we do appreciate the wi-fi. So different from the olden days of Pangea when it would take at least a week to communicate with the outside world. The world has obviously grown smaller.
Yet, the ladies in the market are still wearing their trademark bowler hats and carrying their cargo, including small children, on their backs in striped mantas.
If you look around, you can find a good saltena for breakfast. We’ve been partaking of the local lake trout, too.
Just sitting here a couple of days, enjoying the lake, taking some vigorous hikes (at 12,500 feet) and some that are more leisurely, like our walk this afternoon along the shore to escape the scene.
Took a spectacular hour and a half collectivo-taxi ride from Cuzco to Ollantaytambo in the sacred valley of the Incas. Rode across rolling hills with snow capped peaks in the distance before dropping 2,000 feet into the Urubamba River valley.
Ollantaytambo is an ancient Inca garrison town dramatically situated with fortress and sentry posts on the hillsides where we have been doing a lot of hiking.
One day we went up out of the valley to the terraced concentric circles of Moray, said to be an Incan shrine to corn. Descending into the circles (and climbing back out), we could feel the cosmic energy, as well as the soreness in our legs!
We walked downhill from nearby Maras to the Salineras, a set of salt pools, where spring water evaporates and the salt is harvested with pick axes and shovels. The effect is radically different from the formal Inca structures.
We have been eating well: 7 sol lunches (about $2.50), with quinoa soup to start, followed by a chicken filet or a vegetable omelet with the ever-present potatoes and rice.
Next week to the Lake. 
Cuzco: ancient capital of the Inca, modern tourist mecca, gateway to Machu Picchu, one of the wonders of the world that’s on everyone’s must-see list. We’re glad to report that the city is alive and vibrant.
The historic center is wonderful. The Inca stone walls, put together without any mortar, are so finely done that you cannot insert a razor blade between the stones. 
You do have to contend with all the hawkers on the prowl and more “tipica” stores than ever as a result of the huge number of tourists.
One morning we happened upon some folkloric dancers performing in front of the main Cathedral. Curiously, one of the dancers was wearing an Anonymous knitted wool mask (available in the “tipica” stores). 
Be sure and rest in the plazas. You’re up so high: 11,500 feet. People watching is great. While the local ladies may now dress in jeans, they still carry everything, including small children, on their backs in traditional “mantas” tied at the front. Many, but not all, are talking on their cell phones. The men are now wearing running shoes, making life more difficult for the ever present shoe-shine boys. We even saw a couple of ladies spinning wool into yarn as they walked.
The tourist area is only a small part of greater Cuzco. There’s a whole Peruvian city beyond the gringos. Head over to the Mercado San Pedro, an old covered market filled with fruit, flower and meat vendors, plus food stalls where the locals eat. We enjoyed a fresh orange and papaya juice, just like old times (we were last here in 1976). 
Left LA yesterday. After 16 hours of planes and lay-overs, we made it to our first stop: Cuzco, Peru. At 11,500 feet, its going to take us a few days to get used to the altitude. We’ll update in a few days with our impressions of Cuzco.
(photo by Dara)
Took a step up to San Francisco to visit the kids. Always fun to see them on their own turf and an excellent excuse to visit the City by the Bay.
As usual, we ate our way through the weekend: Thursday night small plates at Pesce on Polk. Lunch on Friday at Swan Oyster Depot: chowder, crab cocktail (with Louie on the side) and an off the menu sashimi plate; deliciously fresh; a real San Francisco institution!. After a cameo appearance at Dara’s class (so cute!), we all met at Camino in Oakland where everything is cooked on an open hearth. Saturday morning started with Dara and Matt at Tartine Bakery for breakfast. Then, it was off to the Ferry Building farmer’s market with Maya and Derek, where we snacked on Acme bread and Cowgirl cheeses and seasonal produce. Saturday night was State Bird Provisions in the Fillmore with Maya and Derek (Dara and Matt were at a school event in Orinda). Dinner was a new concept: servers circulate with dimsum carts full of fusion food like kimchi pork belly; there’s a menu for hot dishes too including quail, the California state bird. Sunday we all had brunch at Laura and Cory’s new home in Hillsborough (with Will providing the entertainment). Dinner was a relaxed home meal of pasta and salad at Dara and Matt’s apartment. Finally, Monday night, Dara and Matt took us out to dinner at Greens in Fort Mason; a lovely vegetarian meal overlooking the Marin and the Golden Gate Bridge.
On Monday, we played tourists, doing our mural tour of the City. Started with the Diego Rivera at the San Francisco Art Institute at 800 Chestnut.
Then, after a spin through North Beach (cappucino at Caffe Roma, perusing the books at City LIghts), we drove up Telegraph Hill to see the WPA murals in Coit Tower.
Of course, it wouldn’t be a trip to San Francisco without a stop at Fort Point.
On Saturday, January 14th, three days before the actual date, the clan gathered at the Peninsula Hotel for high tea. Dara and Matt, Maya and Derek and Cory flew in from the Bay Area; Susan and Alissa came in from Chicago; Ross drove down from Santa Barbara. All together there were 23 of us in a private room. It was quite the celebration for a very special birthday!
We’ve taken a big step. We sold the Arms and downsized to mid-century modern.
The Arms has been too big for the two of us. Over the last year or so, we’ve been getting it ready to be sold: having the termite damage repaired (you could put your finger through the outdoor wooden shutters), getting the bamboo-cracked concrete leveled out, straightening the front courtyard wall to vertical where it had been not knocked askew by the tree, and having the house painted Swiss coffee with cocoa trim.
Then we had to hire a realtor to price the house. We interviewed three. Ultimately, we chose Steven Aaron, who had sold Peter and Tom’s house. Steven’s valuation, although lower than the others, seemed realistic to us. We wanted to sell the house, not put it on the market and wait. Of course, you never know what’s going to happen. For us, it was great. The price we set was just right: two bites right away at a number above what we expected. You can watch the sale unfold on our special episode of “Selling LA”. (Strangers now recognize us in public. “Did you just sell you house on TV? I just love the way they dressed it!”)
The next step was to pack up and get out. Not so easy when you’ve lived some place for 18 years. And made more challenging when there are eaves and closets still had things in them from when Jeff’s parents lived at the Arms: Henry’s bassinette from the 20’s (also used by Cory), the original Pete and Jeff chest of drawers from Fourth Street with a drawer full of original baby clothes from the 40s and 50s, not to mention junk accumulation over the years. All it takes is some time, some boxes and, ultimately, some help from JunkJunk to trash the stuff you don’t want and can’t donate.
Two weeks after Dara and Matt’s wedding, we left the Arms, moving our remaining furniture and stuff to Gramma Rev’s garage in Mountaingate, where we lived for 2 plus months while the work on our new house was finished.
Our Gregory Ain designed home in Mar Vista has two new bathrooms, a new roof and AC/heating that it never had before, all at a cost of much more than anticipated. We are living in a space one-third the size of the Arms, three bedrooms and great room. There are no steps to hinder us in our old age. It is beautiful and we love it!
We have begun to settle in so that we can soon leave on our Big Adventure.
