After a busy weekend spent with family and friends in NorCal we decided to review our travel itinerary and discovered-much to our suprise-that our flight on 12Jan06 was at 1230, AM! That did not leave us much time to complete all our necessary errands prior to departure and the next few days were rather hectic. Ready or not, my parents dropped us off at the door to the international terminal at SFO at about 9pm on that fateful Wednesday evening and we said our fare-the-wells. It was about this time that my excitement about the travel adventures that lay ahead began to grow. Up until then...
I had been unexpectantly apprehensive about continuing our travels. It was so nice to spend time with family and friends. That was making it difficult to get back out there and do it. Just do it, damn it! Now, at the bar of the international terminal we were doing it, again. Woo Hoo! Of course our flight was a little bit delayed but we finally boarded the bird at about quarter to one in the morning. 5 airports, 4 flights, and 15 hours later we made it to Lima. Ouch! Thatīs right we took the not so direct SF->El Salvador->San Jose->Bogata->Lima route to Peru. An instant test of our Spanish skills-a test we passed but hardly with flying colors. I noticed the English comprehension of the passengers, flight crew, and ground crew gradually diminished the further South we went. By Bogata, it was almost strictly Spanish. It was fun to meet the new challenge and we both learned that our Spanish has a long way to come. Taca Airlines is a cheap no frills airline and when they say "no frills" they mean no frills. It is BYOFood but the drinks are still free and so as we flew out of Bogata towards our final destination I started in with the Johnny Walker and coke-I figured it couldnīt hurt my Spanish.
On the ground in Lima we breezed through immigration and customs (of course) and made our way towards the madness that is the international terminal of a developing countryīs airport. We were travel weary and not really prepared for battle with the airport touts. Thus, we submitted by hitting up the free-but hardly ever unbiased-information counter. After some discussion about hostals from our Rough Guide and some phone calls we sucumbed to the pressure and took a room in the Miraflores district of the city for $20/night. Further, we opted for the pre-arranged shuttle to get us there (an additional $8/person). We were just too spun to fight it. It was easy. And thus-within one hour of being on the ground-we broke the fundamental rule of budget travel for arrival in a new country: never trust the "free" information without following up yourself. We did not care, we just wanted a hot shower, a meal, a bed and no hassel getting what we wanted. Somewhere, in the back of my head, a little voice was screaming-"No!" and "are you sure you can still do this ībackpackerī travel thing?". I didnīt mind. I hardly ever listen to the voices in my head, it is what makes me so flippinīcrazy.
We made it to our hostal and the owner, Freddie, welcomed us warmly and was quite nice. The room was swell with a big bed, attached bath, and cable teevee. We both had a refreshing shower and then decided to explore our new environs with a walk-about the district with the express purpose of finding some eats. We managed, after some time, to have a meal at a chifa or Chinese food joint. The food was not expensive and tasted fine but what the hell? I did not fly for 15 hours to have Chinese food that was not up to par with Aliceīs kitchen back in El Monte, California. And what is it with the Chinese anyway? No matter where we go on the planet it seems like there is a Chinese food restaurant. Usually located next to the damn Irish pub. Seriously. Well, that was that, we made it to Lima, we had a room, and now it was time for rest.
The next day we woke early enough to catch the inclusive continental breakfast. While we ate a representative from the Inka-Wasi tour company came to take us away to their Miraflores offices for a īconsultationī. We went along with it all, mostly hoping to get more of an idea about the cost of travel in Peru. It turned out to be a very helpful session and we were able to put together an itinerary for Peru without committing to anything specific. We even left the office without reserving spots on the 3 day Inca Trail tour/trek to Macchu Piccu. Of course we plan to go to Macchu Piccu but because it is the wet season we are not exactly motivated to do the 3-day hike there. However because the trail is regulated and only a certain number of people are allowed on per day (this is a good thing) you need to book in advance. We said we would think about it. Then we got back into the ībackpackerīswing of things and hopped on a local bus headed to Lima Centro. Easy Peesey and cheap too!
We wondered around the city center and finally figured out how to get to the Plaza San Martin. The plaza is Limaīs answer to Berkeleyīs Peopleīs Park and on any given day you are apt to see-among other things-the begging poor, the disenfranchised, and or some organised protest. We were lucky and we got to see it all. From the plaza we headed up a pedestrian street past the La Merced church. We wondered inside to have a gander at this impressive house of god and a look at the faithful who come to La Merced to pray, touch, and kiss a giant silver cross. Back out on the street in the hot sun we continued wondering towards the Plaza Mayor and a date with lunch. We found a pleasant little cafe across the street from the church called San Francisco. After lunch we headed over to take a tour of the cathedral and attached catacombs. The nice thing about churches is that they are cool inside. The same can be said for the catacombs but with a certain dank smell added. The church did not disappoint and the tour was worth every penny (about $1.80 US). We wondered about the city center for the rest of the afternoon, stopping in at the Inquisition Museum before making our way back out to Miraflores.
Lima is located near the sea and our hostal was out near the coast near what is known as the Larco Mar. The Larco Mar is a grand mall. The location is ideal; offering patrons of the restaurants superb views (especially at the Hooters Lima*) of the Pacific Ocean. That night we went to the Larco Mar for dinner (not Hooters) and it was all quite nice. The next day we were in gear early as we had a lot to get done. First we wanted to make arrangements to leave Lima the next day on a bus to Huaraz in the Ancash region of the country (rainy season be damned!). We also wanted to look around at other hostels in Lima to get an idea of just how much we were over paying per night. This served a dual purpose as we were planning to pass back through Lima on our way from Huaraz to Pisco and might need a place for a night. Third we wanted to visit some ruins of a pre-Incan Lima people at a place called Huaca Pucllana. We found bus information on-line and were able to buy our tickets via the internet. Then we walked across Miraflores to the ruins (about 15 minutes). There we took a tour for 5 soles ($1.80) and it was interesting enough. The site is located right in the middle of a neighborhood in Miraflores and until the early 1980īs was left to decay. Now it is a major archeological and reconstruction site. From there we wondered off insearch of a meal and found ourselves at a local cafe in someones garage. It was all on the level and the set meal for 6 soles (<$2) was spot on. Why had we not realized this sooner? Lesson learned, eat local = pay less. Then we wondered around to a few hostals from the guide book. True to form the place we had wanted to go did not have double rooms. However they pointed us down the street to a hostal that did for half what we were paying with Freddie. I knew it. We found a second option for the same price and decided to head back for a shower. For dinner that night a wondering band came in and entertained us with peruvian folk music while we ate. You know, pan flute and all that. As much as we were enjoying Zanfeer, I was ready to get going and so we took off. On our walk back to our hostal we came across the Jazz Zone pub and decided to pop in for a quick cerveza (or two). The only people in the place was the barman, the soundman, and entertainment for the night, a quintet conducting sound check. It was early-about 9pm. We decided to sit in on the sound check anyway and while we drank the band jammed and arranged music. It was all quite delightful but as we had an early bus the next day we called it quits when the band was finally satisfied with the sound check and took a break before their show.
As I mentioned before the next day we were headed to the Ancash region of the Peruvian Andes to a city called Huaraz. The area is famous for its trekking and hiking. Huaraz itself is on the Rio Santa nestled between the Cordellia Blanca and the Cordellia Negra at an altitude of 3100 meters above sea level. It is an 8 hour bus ride from Lima to Huaraz passing through some of the most desolate land I have ever seen (I have been to Australia, Death Valley, and Utah and I stand by this statement). The desert North of Lima is bleak and barren. Nothing grows. There are no bugs only humans. It is beautiful desert but unlike anything I have seen. From Lima the route to Huaraz begins on the Pan American highway cutting through the aforementioned desert and hugging the Pacific Coast. Eventually we turned off the highway and headed for the interior of Andean Peru. The Andes are awesome and the road is spectacular as it winds its way up into the clouds. Huaraz is a sprawling city and the main base for exploring the Cordellia Blanca. There are many tour operators competing desparately for business, especially at this time of year: the rainy or off-season. We collected our bags and met a local tour operator Aldo who showed us to a nice little family run hostal (his aunt owned the hostal) with a double room for 20 soles/night (<$6). Sweet as. We also signed up to take a tour the next day to some ruins in a city called Chavin on the other side of the Cordellia Blanca ($10).
We rose early the next morning and managed to grab a bite to eat and some snacks for the day before being whisked away on our tour. Our group had about 24 people in it, mostly Peruvian with a few other Americans (a father son combo and a mid 20īs female who had just volunteered in country for the last 3 months) and an Italian. Our tour guide was enthusiastic and apparently full of information. I say apparently because he spoke no English. So, I tried to try to listen to him but after a while I just zoned him out like a boring history lecture. Thank goodness for the ipod, eh? Of course as we cruised up towards an altitude near 4100 meters I discovered a fault with the ipod: it suffers from altitude sickness. Like Yaks in Nepal, the ipod craps out if you ascend/descend in altitude to quickly. A change of 1000 meters above 2500 meters is enough to cause the ipod to crash. At least, this is my theory at this point, maybe Apple will be fulfilling some warranty issues when I get back to the states?. Our first stop was at a beautiful lake nestled in the barren mountains on our way over the pass. We stopped for the obligatory photo-one that included the option of having your picture taken with a llama or al pacca, for a small fee. From the lake-the name escapes me right now-we continued up to our maximum altitude for the day at 4525 meters where a tunnel has been boared into the mountain. It is the scarriest tunnel I have ever had the pleasure of passing through and I was glad when I could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. First of all, the tunnel was far from complete. There were piles of rubble where the tunnel had collapsed. Of course this proved valueable because the road was not paved and there were huge, and I mean HUGE, potholes filled with mud and water. We got stuck. The men on the bus got out and at 4525 meters above sea level I found myself pitching rocks and pushing bus. Swell. To compound matters when we finally got rolling traffic from the other direction had entered the tunnel. It is a one lane tunnel at the best of times and this was not the best of times. Our driver skillfully manauvered the bus through an obstacle course of oncoming trucks, busses, combies and the huge potholes and mud. Really nutz. Safely out the other side what should greet us? A huge statue of Christ on the top of the hill. I almost genuflected or whatever it is called. From here the road drops off the face of the earth-or so it seems-as we descended down to Chavin.
Chavin is a little agricultural village in a narrow valley and the farmers sow fields high up the steep slopes.** It is truely amazing to see and no photograph that I have seen has done it justice (you are still encouraged to visit the photo gallery). We had lunch and a quick look around the village before heading to the ruins of the "Chavin" cult that prospered from about 1200BC to 200AD (pre-Incan, dumb ass). The cult worshipped some strange fanged cat diety-likely loosely based on the jaguar of the near by Amazonia region-and the Chavin ruins were the site of the main temple. We spent the next 4 hours listening to our enthused guide explain (in Spanish) every aspect of the temple complex. From the front plaza that could be filled with water to the alters to the internal chambers of the complex. The guide knew his shite, and even explained the architecture and engineering of the ruins and how they have survived millinia of earthquakes that have wiped out more modern constructions. He also explained, in Spanish detail, the significance of the carved stones and the cult as best we can understand. It was all really fascinating but about halfway through my muscles started to ache, bad. My legs were stiff and the muscles just were not performing. I didnīt know what the hell was up. I struggled on with the tour and by the end I was in agony, limping along. What the hell was it, altitude sickness? Mo and I tended to think not: I didnīt have a head ache, I was not dizzy (at least not any dizzier than normal), nor short of breath. Could it be food poisoning? Not bloody likely, my stool was solid steel, almost painful (sorry about that). On the bus ride back to Huaraz I was engulfed with a fever and the flu had taken hold. Ick! I barely remember the ride back through the tunnel, past the lake, and down the valley to Huaraz. When we got back to the city all I could think about was Tylenol and bed but I knew we had to eat. I will be damned if I was going to let Mo wonder around the city by herself at night and I knew she would have to eat. Besides, you have to feed a cold right? We found a pleasant little burger joint and managed to order a couple of burgers to go. Finally at about 9pm we stumbled into our lodgings. I immediately took 2 Tylenol and threw the burger down my throat. I was running at about 101 F. 30 minutes later the Tylenol kicked in and the pain and ache of my muscles receeded into a dull ache and I drifted off to sleep. Amy read and rubbed my soar muscles when she could. We decided it would be best to go slow the next day.
After 12 hours of sleep and much more Tylenol I was feeling much better in the morning. I was still up over 100 F but the pain was minimal and I could tell I was on the road to recovery. My only concern now was for Mo who had definitely been exposed to some nasty arsed bug (we shared water all day on the Chavin tour). We spent the day exploring the market and city of Huaraz. I was feeling pretty good that afternoon so we decided to sign up for another tour the next day, this time to awesome blue waters of Llanganuco Lake above the unfortunate village of Yungay, down the valley from Huaraz. The tour started early the next day and we found ourselves riding in the front seat with the driver (cool enough)^ listening to another Spanish language tour. Our first stop was at a statue of Maria with the oh-so awesome Huascaran Mountain (6768 m, highest in Peru) in the background. Unfortunately for us it was a cloudy day and the mountain was hidden from our view (I have seen pictures of it from the same spot but on a clear day and it is good stuff, trust me). We cruised on into a pleasant little village called Carhuaz with a beautiful little plaza lined with palm trees and fountains and lots of colorfully dressed Peruvian women to shy to have their picture taken. We stopped long enough to enjoy the plaza and an ice cream before moving on to the village of Yungay at the base of Huascaran. Earlier I mentioned that Yungay is an unfortunate village and I meant it. In 1862 the city was almost completely wiped out by an avalanche. It happened again in 1962, when 5000 people were buried alive in a neighboring village. Then, on 31May70 the entire city was obliterated by an earthquake and subsequent landslide. The earthquake came during a festival and while it proved impossible to get an accurate total for the death toll, it is calculated that more than 70000 people died including almost the entire population of the city (26000). Well, we toured the reconstruction of the cemetary-I mean technically, the whole city is a cemetary, right? I mean, 70000 plus people are buried under the new city-and got the scoop (in Spanish) from our guide and a local kid who tagged along and did a little presentation. From Yungay we climbed up into the imposing valley beneath Huascaran towards lake Llanganuco. The lake is inside a national park and it is located at the base of some of the Andeas largest mountains. The glacier fed lake has a spectacular color that changes with the color of the sky. It was quite impressive and beautiful, even if the sky for us was whiteout. Iīm sure clear day sunsets are awesome. We spent a good hour exploring about the lake before heading back down to another village famous for its honey, Caraz. It was raining and we did not take the opportunity to wonder around the streets of the little village for too long. We headed back for Huaraz stopping off at a local pottery artesians shop where he put on a demonstartion of how to throw clay. The bastard was really good using his feet to control the spin. I canīt even center the clay on an electric spinner, let alone a manual one. We wondered around his shop and enjoyed his work and Mo even bought a little trinket. Finally we got back to Huaraz at about 7pm. Long days I tell you, especially if you are fighting off the flu.
The next day we had free to ourselves as we did not leave Huaraz until 1030pm. I took the opportunity to sleep in and get a little extra rest to fight the flu. But alas, check out was at 12pm so we gathered up our shite and checked out. Of course we just moved our bags downstairs where the hostal would store them for the day. Then it was back out to exploring Huaraz. We had considered going to the local village of Monteray and its hotsprings but when you have had a fever you donīt really feel like climbing into a hot bath, know what I mean. We skipped it and instead shopped around Huaraz and Mo bought a nice Peruvian blanket. I looked at post cards but they were craptacular so I didnīt buy any, so donīt expect any, not yet anyway. After a session reading and then eating dinner we collected our bags from the hostal and made for the Cruz Del Sur bus station. We departed right on schedule and I slipped the ipod on and faded away into 26Apr72 (I think) Frankfurt Germany better known as The Hundred Year Hall Dead show. It was great cruising down the Andeas with Jerry and Bobby and the boys jamming away until we dropped about 1000 meters and the ipod crapped out. Altitude sickness. Damn! So I was stuck with my thoughts for the rest of the ride-I couldnīt sleep on the downhill because the roud is so winding and steep I kept sliding out of my seat. Thus I had a chance to reflect on our first week in Peru. What a great time we have had.
It is so good to be back traveling in a developing country. Donīt get me wrong, Australia and New Zealand were awesome but it was too Western. Too easy. Too expensive. 9 months is a long time when you only get 25 months to travel (donīt cry for me California). What is it about traveling in developing countries? I donīt know, I canīt quite explain it. Itīs not about being cheaper (although that helps). It has to do with the people who are always so friendly and happy to see you. The kids playing care free-they donīt know what an ipod is, yet-Or trying the local flavor-new dishes like Ceviche (yummy). Itīs the little things like the break dancers who come out into the crosswalks while traffic is stopped at red lights. They dance their arses off and then hold out a hat for pennies. That sure is much better than some stupid street punk on Telegraph Avenue waiving a pisspoor cardboard sign with "need money for beer" scribbled with a sharpie on it. It is being close to a recognized peasant^^ population-I say recognized because we have a peasant population in the States, we just donīt recognize them, not even if their is a huge natural disaster about to wipe them out and we could do something about it (Iīm not blaming George Bush for hurricain Katrina, just his administrations heartless response to it. The peasants remind me of imperminence and I like that reminder, I need that reminder. It makes life easier to swallow. Anyway, we are well and enjoying the travel bug again. Hope all is well back in your neck of the woods. Cheers until the next time.
NOTES:
* Hooters are like missionaries, they turn up in the strangest of places. The Christian god and Hooters go hand in hand I suppose. I mean, you donīt want to have pagans without Hooters, right? It is a family restaurant after all. Itīs better than the alternative: a bible in one hand, a gun in the other (Maori slogan).
** This also happens to be the region in Peru that was off limits to foreigners while Mr. Guzman and his terror organization Sendero Luminoso (the shining path) were rampaging against the government. Guzman was arrested in 1993, convicted and sentenced to life in prison. He is currently being re-tried as the original conviction was thrown out on a technicallity.
^ Riding in the front seat I was able to see the intricacies of driving in Peru. Apparently, God was also riding in the front with us and it was a good thing too. The driver would almost never check traffic before turning or overtaking. The horn was all you got on blind turns when you crossed over the center divide line. I noticed the driver always made the sign of the cross (genuflected?) before he would pull some whack-arsed move. I was about to say something. You know like, "It might be better to keep both hands on the wheel and drive sanely than to whip it out there with a little prayer to the big guy upstairs" but limited as my Spanish is, I donīt think I could have got my point across. A bible in one hand, who needs the freaking gun?
^^ Squire: "The peasants are revolting!"
The King: "Youīre right. They stink! Pull!"
Screaming peasant streaks through the air and the king shoots a gun.
LOL!
History of the World a film by Mel Brooks.
In Peru I keep asking that question, and no one ever answers yes. I guess still being in the Americas doesnīt mean much.
At first I was nervous to explore a new country again, especially one where I donīt speak the language. What I noticed so far is most people expect you to speak Spanish or at least some Spanish. And most people donīt speak much English. I know when I spoke to non-native English speakers, I always spoke slowly and enunciated, maybe even īdumbedīit down. But most people here donīt help you out with that. Even the ones who do speak a little slower for us are still incomprehensible. They just arenīt cooperating by saying only the phrases weīve learned in our book! They keep changing it up, dropping syllables, slurring things together...itīs rather maddening I tell you! Instead of saying īgood eveningīproperly as ībuenas nochesī, they just say ībuenasī. I understand shortening phrases. We do it in English too. We say īnightī instead of īgood nightī sometimes. But they do it all backasswards by saying the first word īgoodīinstead!
Well after bungling enough exchanges of pleasantries, which are very important in Latin American culture, Iīm feeling much more settled and calm about the whole situation. Now that I know tuna flavored ice cream isnīt actually fish flavored ice cream (tuna is a cactus type fruit), and Apu is revered because thatīs the mountain god and not because of the Simpsonīs (they do air the Simpsonīs dubbed into Spanish on cable every night.) I shouldnīt assume things are the same, but itīs very misleading sometimes because so many other things are the same in English as in Spanish. Example: papaya = papaya, caravana = caravan, carro = car, vagina = vagina, balcon = balcony. Then they pop one at you like "arena", and that means sand. Go figure.
Not sure now where the word originated since itīs used here and in South Africa - "combi", the shared minivans that zoom around the city with as many people as they can cram in with as low regard for your safety as the low centimos youīre paying. Maybe itīs just a third world thing.
But so far Peru has not been the third world I was expecting. I guess itīs because Iīve been comparing it to SE Asia, where itīs actually more crowded, hurried, and harassed. People said, ĻYuck, Lima, itīs just a big polluted city.Ļ But itīs not more polluted than say Bangkok or definitely not more than Jakarta. Peru is a country that lives on the tourist industry with people competing for your business, but people here are never as pushy or aggressive as the touts in Vietnam or Cambodia. Itīs more laid back, and I have to say in general people are patient enough to try and understand our broken, ill grammared speech. Never in a million years in France would they be so nice. Maybe it has to do with the dollar signs in their eyes, but I prefer to think that itīs also because theyīre happy youīre trying. So, so what if they donīt speak English! Iīll get over it.
Despite going to bed with visions of Speight's dancing in my head I woke up Christmas morning bright and early. It was like Christmas in July-sun shining, clear sky, expected high of about 22 C-without the Christmas. Amy was a little worse for the ware from the night before but she managed to get herself together in time to catch the 5 hour flight to Tahiti.
We took the shuttle to Auckland Airport where we paid $25 (NZ) to use the facilities-not much really-and we bid farewell to New Zealand and hello to Tahiti. We landed in Papeete (Faaa) at about 2030 on Christmas Eve. You got to love the international date line. Anyway, we arrived to the 30 C 90% humidity weather without any problems. After claiming our bags we made our way to the money exchanger and then sought out our airport transfer. Turns out, the peeps at Hiti Moana Villa forgot we were coming. We called them up, interrupted their Christmas Eve dinner and had them come give us a ride. No worries, August the father of David who runs the place, came and picked us up. He was really kind and apologetic. He told us about his family history on the island (4th generation from Denmark) and made friendly talk for the half hour ride back to the Hiti Moana. We made plans to take a Christmas Day tour of the island with August and another couple from Finland. So, early the next day we woke to another Christmas in July-type weather and went cruising the island. It was really cool and it took all day to drive around the island stopping off to visit beaches, sites, vistas, etc. It was a great day. Back at the Hiti Moana we went for a swim and watched the spectacular sunset. That is pretty much all we did over the next few days...eat, swim, watch beautiful sunsets. We did manage to do some kayaking on the reef and that was really good. We even saw a reef shark. But alas, our short holiday from our holiday was coming to a close and it was time to get ready for California. Good thing too, Tahiti is not exactly on the budget travelers list of places to go-it is expensive but well worth it. Hiti Moana Villa was a great place to relax for a few days before we returned to the hustle and bustle of California. The owners were so sweet and helpful that I would recommend their place to anyone passing through Tahiti (if you can't make it to the other islands).
On 27Dec05 we hopped on another Air Tahiti-Nui Airbus, this time headed back to the good ole USA. We arrived in smelL.A. at 0800 on 28Dec05. Our bags were waiting for us, immigration and customs was a breeze and Amy's sister and brother were waiting for us when we left the terminal. Sweet as. We spent the next few days catching up with Amy's family in Los Angeles, watching lots of college football (damn Texas!), and we even saw some of our SoCal friends for a NYE celebration at Hermosa Beach. We did spend quite a bit of time shopping in preparation for our next leg of our trip: South America. It was strange to be home. Driving on the right side of the road, spending greenbacks, drinking good beer, eating mexican food, seeing friends and family. It was like very little had changed-sure petrol cost $.50 more/gallon but other than that, everything seemed the same. I did notice that we seem to live in fear now in the USA. On TV there were shows about "America's Tsunami" (what? target date when?) or my favorite new series "It Could Happen Tomorrow" on the Weather Channel. We went to a food carnival in Old Town Pasedena the day before the National Championship game (Damn Texas!) and there were no less than 6 bomb sniffing dogs patrolling a 2 block area. There were 10 times the number of bi-ped cops patrolling the same beat. Boy, did I feel safe.?!? What the hell is going on? Oh, that's right, the president gets himself re-elected on fear, fear based on lies he told the American public, so the fear must be real? What the F? Who are we? What are we afraid of? I suppose I should stop now-the feds are probably already spying on me anyway, they do on millions of citizens, violating our rights to keep us "safe". Ugh! By the way, for reading this you just made the spy list. Welcome to the Bush America.
Where was I, oh that's right, from LA we flew up to NorCal and spent a week in Rio Vista with my parents and family. It was good to see old friends and especially the family. My nephew was about 5 months old when we left and is now a precocious 2 year old. Good kid though and Amy and I had a blast keeping up with him. My sister inlaw is prego with a girl due in April so that should be a nice addition when we get back from South America. In the mean time, we have packed our bags (much lighter this time) and are ready to hit the road again, this time we are off to Peru. Hope to see you there. Cheers!