samstravels7

Sydney Part II

2010-06-21T22:37:00.000-07:00

Hello All,

It's been a little over a year since my last adventure, but keeping with tradition I hope to continue to travel "big" once a year going forward. This year's trip has brough me down under for the second time. Toff, my mate from Adelaide and traveling buddy from South America is getting married. Against all sorts of common wisdom he put me in charge of bringing the rings from the states. No worries, I have the rings. My pack with all my belongings is another story.

So here I am, day three wearing other people's clothes. It's not quite like walking in their shoes, but you get the gist. My friend Amy and her housemate Alli have put me up with the most gracious hospitality. I have my own couch, a terrace in downtown Sydney for drinking wine and watching fruit bats, and easy access to Circular Quay for ferry trips to Sydney surrounds.

All-in-all, things are well. As with any adventure there are stories, stories and more stories. As they continue to unfold I'll be sure to post. Until then I'll leave you with a short description of how I arrive Oz-side.

Talking with Steve, a burgeoning hip-hop fashion mogul, I quipped that customs was going to have a field day when I passed through the gates. Naturally, he asked why. I joked that I was getting off the plane with nothing more than the clothes on my back, a ladies handbag filled with panty hose and two bottles of bourbon - no suitcases or basics for a 40-day stay. But hey, I made the flight.

Sam

Efate, Vanuatu

2009-04-29T17:56:00.000-07:00

View Efate, Vanuatu in a larger map

Made it to Australia and spent a couple of days in Brisbane, endured the heavy rains of a tropical storm in Cairns, and decided at the last minute to visit a friend in Vanuatu. It was this time that hindsight and the actualization of a decision agreed.

Mele Village, Efate, Vanuatu

I arrived at the airport in Port Vila and met my friend Katie and we hit the ground running. Life in the islands is relaxed, but there is always something to do. Katie was teaching a reef awareness class to local secondary school students and I got to be the photographer. The problem was that I was more interested in the fish than photographing the group. My attention span is even shorter when surrounded by hundreds of fish. We then joined her co-workers from the fishery department for a game of beach soccer. I was megged twice, but eventually got my footings.

No matter, a shell of kava can fix anything. At least that's what several of the local fellas at the dock told me. "It cures illness, crime, everything. No one steals things here cause of the kava. We just sit and story." This isn't a literal translation from any one fella but a compilation of everyone's thoughts.

Anyway, to give you a little backstory, my friend Katie is a Peace Corp Volunteer and coordinates a program called Reef Check. The organization measures reef degradation in an effort to promote awareness and eventually help establish village volunteers to monitor and create Marine Protected Areas (MPA's). Check out the website.

That night I was introduced to Akuma, Bella, and George, Katie's island family. They fed me a feast of island proportions. It was incredible and so, I ate. The food in general is straight from the garden. We ate alot of starches, including yams, manioc, and rice. Island cabbage was always along for the ride as well as bananas. Starvation isn't generally a problem, but proper nutrition is sometimes an issue. A friend of Katie's was teaching a class to local students called "three kind kakae." It was an effort to curb protein deficiencies amongst children by educating them on nutritional value. Below is a video of a traditional island cuisine called laplap.

The next day, George, the youngest of her brothers took me on a tour. We went to the garden, harvested yams, ate fruit, dug up manioc, and got eaten alive by mosquitoes. Later, we met the chief and all of George's friends. George treated me to a Coca-Cola and we had a few laughs. We even got to go to the Obama Shopping Center - a village store supporting the recently inaugurated president. It's very interesting to see how the face of one man can inspire many.

Mangalilu Village, Efate, Vanuatu

Hanging on the back of a local truck with welded steel bars for handles, we bounced over ditches, rocks, and potholes. I had a nice conversation with a gentlemen from the village who worked in town and actually owned the truck. We arrived a little late but were treated to some laplap. By candlelight we watched a card game that was being played by some boys from Santo. They were just passing through on their way to New Zealand to work as seasonal laborers.

The village doesn't have any electricity or running water, except for a pipe that runs from the top of the hill. After dinner we were off to sleep in a building that at one time functioned as a village store. A peace core requirement is that all volunteers have their own living quarters. It was cozy, and the cool concrete floors were nice.

The next day, Sharon, our host, introduced us to some locals and then Katie took me to meet her friends. Katie had lived in the village and on the island of Lelepa for a year during her training. Mangaliliu is considered a training village for Peace Corps Volunteers in Vanuatu and after meeting Chief MurMur I can understand why.

An afternoon snorkel had us hunting for some giant clams, fish, and some pretty cool coral. We spent the remainder of the day storying with the chief. He told me about a crazy Frenchmen who free-dove for tuna in the deep waters off Hat Island. He said, "I told him he couldn't do it, but he did. He made a video and I used to have it, but it's gone. Really a crazy guy." We sat there discussing the recent addition of "Hat Island" as a World Heritage Site and how Survivor Vanuatu was filmed just up the beach on some of the village land. The chief's huge smile and his easy-going demeanor instantly made me a fan.

A few minutes later his boys came in from fishing in his boat. They only caught a couple fish and he immediately said they had too much money with them. Local lore says that if you have alot of money in the boat you won't catch much. Just as quickly as he quipped with the young boys, he presented his idea for the afternoon. We would get into the boat and head up the shore to his newphew's nakamal - a kava bar. Me being a novice to kava, I agreed reluctantly knowing how my stomach felt the first time I tried it. Why not, a little nausea shouldn't stop such a rare opportunity.

They said I was the guest and showed me how to produce the kava. We then sat by the water on a tranquil, isolated beach facing westward as the sun dipped below the horizon. The water was warm and the relaxing effect of the kava lulled everyone into a very peaceful, quiet presence. After an hour or two we got into the boat and raced back to Mangaliliu. Dodging reefs with a bow-mounted boy and flashlight we carved our way home through the cool, damp evening air. I couldn't stop smiling - even as I was puking later that night.

Click on the link below to see the website for the Vanuatu Cultural Center. There is information about the recent World Heritage Site, Mangaliliu village, and even some pictures.

Nguna-Pele Protected Area, Vanuatu

Katie had to go out of town for a couple of days so I was left to fend for myself. She sat me up with a couple of phone numbers and suggestions and a book with basic Bislama translations. I knew there was a Peace Corp volunteer on Pele and started to work that way. I caught a local transport from town and took the bumpy, hour and a half ride to the dock. Since I was getting there so late, I was the only one to catch the boat across. We took our time and trolled for fish while simultaneously scooping water from the floor.

I realized about half-way across that I was coming in relatively unannounced and incredibly unprepared. Landing on shore everyone assumed I was looking for the Peace Corp Volunteer on the island, and in fact I was, but first things first. I was just looking for a place to stay. By the grace of the heavens one of the guys that greeted me in this village of 50 people happened to be a teacher - he spoke English. We sat and talked for a long time on the beach and were joined by several other fellas. Lazily laying in the shade of palms on the white sand I learned what it is to share your story. We came from very different lives, but it was this action of exchange, sharing details of lives only dreamt about, where a connection was formed. I learned of a local optometrist's vision to collect used and discarded pairs of glasses and have them shipped, sorted, and then prescribed to villagers all throughout Vanuatu. Sometimes a simple introduction can really open you eyes.

The local Peace Corp Volunteer walked up awhile later and was just as surprised to see me. I apologized for dropping in somewhat unannounced and possibly cutting his time short on Nguna. He said, "no worries" and showed me around the village. We joined the fellas for kava, and of course, the process of making the drink. The mud colored liquid with a taste resembling pepper seasoned potters clay took everyone to a familiar place. A couple of shells, conversation and we were off to a late kakae and sleep.

The next day we were snorkeling in the Nguna-Pele MPA with a local guide. We floated over tremendous table top reefs and saw massive groupers. Watching the ease at which the guide free-dove was amazing, but not nearly as impressive as watching him sneak up on a sea turtle and grab hold. We noted the tag, took measurement, and then I was given the honor of releasing her. It was really cool.

Check out the video I found on YouTube to give you an idea of what kind of conservation work is being conducted. If you aren't interested in the conservation work, then just look for the on-location filming. Also, if you are interested in the specific project you can find more information here.

That afternoon, we went for a bush walk to the top of the island. Hacking our way though chest high grass yielded 360 degree panoramic views of the neighboring islands. We chilled out and watched the sunset behind the gentle curve of the earth. Back a little late for kava we found the bucket was empty. We had dinner with the volunteer's island family and then I tucked myself into my hammock and lit the mosquito candle.

Time Well Spent...

Mele village was my home for the majority of my two weeks in Vanuatu. I learned about local cuisine, local gardening practices, how to climb coconut trees and a little Bislama. My host family was incredible. They included me on everything they did and were always around to show me the best of Vanuatu. George and I worked on school assignments and occasionally would play a little basketball. I attended a Sunday Church Service and even participated in a crazy cyclonic circle dance. In the village you can always expect the unexpected. Whether you are just walking to the road or headed home, there is always someone or a group of someones wanting to see you off. Even a late afternoon swim at the beach isn't often done in solitude.

The rivers were a fresh reprieve from afternoon swelter and at sunset the lights of the local nakamals let everyone know it was time to story. For an outsider, the open attitude and friendliness is something that often gets overlooked in the U.S. We tend to be a little reclusive with no time to share in the simpler aspects of our lives. While many of the stories were discounted or told to be exaggerations, it was the act of community that was most impressive.

I enjoyed my time so much I actually missed my first flight. Myself and Watson, a local boy from the village and passionate golfer/caddie, were sitting at the airport. Unintentionally, I glanced at the ticket and saw the arrival time, but thought it was the boarding time. To make a long story short, I watched my plane board as Watson and I were discussing basic supply and demand economics with relation to fuel prices. The plane left and upon realizing my mistake I went to the counter to find out I would pay a fee and be unable to leave the island until Wednesday.

Watson looked and me and said, "You've got to be the stupidest person." I agreed and chuckled at what Sherlock Holmes would have said in the same situation. An expensive mistake, but when I turned up at Bella's for dinner I couldn't have felt more welcome. I forgot about the money and we talked well into the evening.

Picton - Dunedin, New Zealand

2009-03-02T15:40:00.000-08:00

View South Island, New Zealand in a larger map

As expected this trip has taken on a whole new style. My first two weeks were aboard a luxury ship called the Clipper Odyssey. It was an experience not to be forgotten and certainly cherished for the rest of my life. Since disembarkation in Auckland I have had a little over a month to explore the exploits of New Zealand. Meeting people, eating food, and ultimately returning to the role of a backpacker.

Despite my most incredible experiences on the North Island, it has always been my intention to return to the South Island. Wild, untamed, and a bit more dramatic - it's suits my pursuits. So, what better way to travel than in the same fashion. As mentioned in previous posts, hitchhiking was the preferred method of getting around.

The above map plots most of the places I covered in two weeks and describes in brief detail a few of my experiences. It is incomplete, but more of a method to help me remember this time. Things were moving very fast and people were coming and going by the hour. It was so easy to get attached, but so hard to remember the details. So, here is a quick glimpse.

Late to the ferry, running, conversation, lowered gang plank, no tickets, no problem. Ten-thirty p.m. disembarkation, WWII ship snoop/tour, walked 8 kms., bed behind park hedge, a literal tree hugger.

A Japanese cultural exchange with couple and 1.5 year old daughter, blown kisses goodbye, bowing, and the sharing of good-will. Walked 17 kms to Richmond, late arrival, talked to a local, a little b&e (actually just trespassing), woke neighbors (security), caught, made friends with dog, conversation, got permission, found Heineken, stinky feet, sleeping at the track. End of day two.

Hugs goodbye, new friend Lou, good advice, shifter on dash, big blisters, lots of chocolate for lunch. Met a German artist who lives in house truck on reclusive psychologists land. Felt like I stiffed a ride share but had no change, felt bad. Met Peter and saw genuine hospitality. Offered water, place to swim, and took me to trail head. Broke tent pole, rigged, and slept by the sea.

See Abel Tasman post.

Planned to camp next to river in Motueka. Met Aussie and Norwegian in park. Joined by crazy Scot/Mongolian healer. Share manuka honey small-batch whisky. Thought I had a ride until it started to rain. Had enough, made run for rock garden shelter. Late, nowhere to crash, bedded down until security guard put foot down. Wandered until I found place to pitch tent. Broke tent pole, tape and half-assed effort. Slept in a puddle.

Checked into a hostel. Did laundry. Bounced with Jake and Amy. Saw vineyards, Westport, lots of rain, sheep shearing, and pink camoflage visors. Shot bb guns at fair and got dropped off. Started walking, met two hitch hikers. Nice, but three's a crowd. Walked about 4 kms then got pissed when car was driving by recklessly. Saw my friends in the back, Amy was driving - awesome. Chilled for three days. Hugs goodbye.

Glaciers, rain. Cards, more rain. Movies, rain. Hiking, rain. Franz Josef Fox Glacier were good, but it rained. Hugs goodbye, walked towards Fox Glacier, met Henrick. Debated the taste of kina, talked politics, music and walked. Grabbed ride to Wanaka. Henrick knows friend of mine from S. America that lives in Australia. Camped, hugs goodbye.

Started walking to Queenstown. Met Steve, off-duty cabbie, ride gratis. Personal tour, great convo. Steve rode Harley in U.S.A. Six kms. into town, hoofed, warp speed. Visited friend in Crowne Plaza, no shower. Bought pad, got cheap supermarket lasangna, met dude at outdoor store, found best camp site in town. $250 a night view, gratis. Slept under stars overlooking Queenstown.

Six kms. out, met Swiss girl on road. Hitch-Buddy. No-luck, started walking due South. English couple and 12 year old daughter pick-up. A lot of fun. Third degree from little girl. Hugs good-bye. Had coffee at cross-roads, desolate, made card-board sign. Logger pick-up, Winton drop-off. Walked a couple kms, bought new knife, Alan pickup. "Where to?" Invers. "I'll take you to the museum, good place to start." Great convo. Handshakes goodbye. Cool town, great garden, ok museum. Walked through town, stopped Pak-n-Save, bought supplies. Germans, a little odd, but friendly. Were off to Bluff, pictures at southernmost point. No camp, roadside it is. Broke tent pole. Tape.

German eggs, toast, cheese. Sunrise over beautiful waterway and alumnimum smelter. Hugs goodbye. Walking, ride with Contractor. Business slow, can't pour slab without more boards. "Dunedin 150 miles that-a-way, good luck!" Not much traffic, bad idea? Walked 10 kms., crazy Wisconsin pickup. Great couple, nice, drove me all through Catlins, 10 kms. to DOC campsite. Rock-hopping, wet feet, keep the tape. Hugs goodbye. Frenchmen, friendly. Best sleep. Beautiful waves, breeze.

Ride to road with Frenchman. "Maybe our paths will cross. Chau." Walked 10 kms. to Okawa. Mist, rain, but pleasant. Passed friends from day before. They were backtracking. Ian, ex equity trader pickup. Ride to Dunedin. "Gotta love those Dutch water polo players you meat in Thailand." Coffee, Internet, Michael pickup. Shower, proper dinner, conversation. Good to be off road.

Rain, laundry, Cadbury factory, stories, etc. out to eat, good fun. A day to rest, awesome roast. A round at the links, couldn't putt. Met family, friends, toured Otago University, cricket match rained out. Fine wine and laughs. Booked trip to Aus., compiled notes, cleaned out food in bag. Hugs good-bye. Off to Brisbane.

As you can see, describing the events of the previous two weeks in detail would take longer than the two weeks it took to actually live. I can't count how many times I said hello but I can count the hugs goodbye. To sum things up, the people are incredible, genuine and willing to help. The roads are good, and the parks are awesome. Milk is cheap and folks love to share how they live with whoever is interested.

Abel Tasman National Park, New Zealand

2009-02-18T22:59:00.001-08:00

E and I seperated at the road crossing in Richmond. I was headed north to Able Tasman and she was headed to Westport to find work on a fishing boat. About 10 kms. outside of Richmond I thumbed a ride with Lou who was returning to Motueka after getting his boat fixed. He was a lovely old man driving a rusted out pickup with the shifter on the dash. He and his son-in-law were going floundering that afternoon, but he had time to give me a little advice about Abel Tasman and New Zealand in general.

He dropped me off about 4 kms outsitde of Motueka and I hoofed it to town. There, I stocked up on supplies and continued another 6 kms north to try and get to the trailhead by dark. Rides were sparse, but luckily a nice German woman stopped to help a brother out. We drove to Takaka and talked the whole way. She lost her husband a few years earlier and decided to start over in New Zealand. She was living in a house truck and painting and writing. It was a life she felt she couldn't have in the hustle and bustle of Berlin.

Two hitches later, one from an U.S. expat from L.A. and the other from a local vintner named Peter landed me in an incredible stealth campsite. My front portch faced northeast across the estuary and the setting sun illuminated feeding Oyster Catchers. I sat and contemplated the next couple of days while repairing the second snapped tent pole of the trip.

The next a.m. I packed up and slung my shoes over my shoulders and wadded through the slimy mud recently exposed by the falling tide. Arriving on the other side, I prepared myself and set off into the woods. It was a great walk and I would have loved to have more time to explore and rest on the immaculate white sand beaches and temperate turquoise waters. However, a cold front was moving through and was expected to settle in for a couple of days. So, I said goodbye to my new friends from University of Auckland and made haste for the tidal crossings - several sections of the trail that are impassible except within several hours of eitherside of low tide.

At the first crossing I changed clothes to get dry, keep warm, and keep the insatiable sand flies at bay. Myself and three German counterparts waited as the tide slowly receeded revealing glass-like layer of water that reflected the magnificant sky from the setting sun. The surrounding mountains were sillouetted black as the sky exploded with fireworks of particulate pollution - it was awsome. What was not awsome was crossing this tidal stream in the dark. After several failed attempts we finally found the shallow sections and truddged toward someone's headlamp (beacon) on the far side.

The Germans were spent but I was hell-bent to make the last tide so I strapped my pack on tight, chugged some water, and set-out. My headlamp illuminated lots of forest eyes, but it wasn't until a startled rabbit hurled itself at my stomach from the dense, dark forest that I actually let out a yelp. Let's be honest, it wasn't a yelp at all - it was one of those instances where you discover how flexible the F-word is. Noun, verb, adjective, all was on the table and at a decible level that made other nocturnal animals begin to move. I am sure I wasn't what the rabbit had in mind either. We both ran screaming in opposite directions until the suprise had subsided.

After a few missteps from inability to see trail blazes I finally made it to the crossing. Tired, hungry, and cold I just wanted a little comfort. The well-fed and arrogantly disobedient possum who joined me on a rock was not what I wanted at all. Nevertheless, he was someone to talk to.

I sat thinking about where to camp as I obviously hadn't found the campsite and needed a few hours of sleep. Looking around I noticed a little trail magic. Someone, possibly overpacking or over estimating their abilities, or just someone being the gracious person they are had left a can of baked beans and potatoes on the rock. I grubbed in my warm clothes.

Life is funny like that. It gives you a hand when you really need it. To rely on others and the world around you is a really incredible experience. To accept the grace of others, and for that matter nature, is quite humbling. It likely won't be what you want, but what you need.

Recharged, I sat out for the camp and found a cave. Underwater during high tide, it was now revealed and had footprints leading up to the entrance. I assumed this was the way, but soon found myself on hands and knees without my pack, crawling towards what I hoped was a campsite. Disheartened, I came to the end and began to turn around but noticed something glowing. Clicking off my headlamp I looked upwards to find thousands of glow worms canvassing the ceiling. It was awsome. Like the night sky within reach. I had heard about these little things but hadn't yet seen them in New Zealand. My little late night walk wasn't such a bad idea after all. I found the camp shortly thereafter and settled in for a night under the real stars. .

Day two came all too early, but I felt energetic. It was 26 kms to the trail end and I wanted to get there in reasonable time so that I might hitch back to Motueka. The walk was easy and beautiful. I am sure it was easier because it was beautiful, but by no means beautiful because it was easy. My reward was a massive newspaper sack of fish and chips and a ride back with a couple of guys in their campervan. The reccomended four days for the 50 kms walk would have been a nice, easy stroll, but the weather would have been crap. Abel Tasman is definately worth the visit and time.

Pahiatua/Eketahuna, New Zealand

2009-02-18T22:58:00.001-08:00

As the adventure with George continued, so did the laughs. E and I tried to help her with her "salty" mouth by imposing a one-minute penalty for each word said. I was ostracized immediately for referring to them as "cuss" words. Apparently this a funny Americanism. However, revenge was sweet as George racked up a 10-minute timeout just over dinner. If you know George this was an eternity of silence.

The next day we were off to work on the farm - my first time milking cows. It was so evident that the owner asked me, "would it be easier to find the nipples if I turned the lights off." He continued, saying that he was only kidding and sympathized, "it's hard when there are four, you're only used to dealing with two." The banter continued for 240 cows, many "phantom shitter" close calls, and my realization that I was literally up shit creek. A reference to the stable design that funnels nervous cow excrement down the drains.

Don't mistake my above sentiments for distaste for the job. I truly thought it was awesome. I didn't fault the cows at all as I was cleaning crap out of my moustache and beard. I would be terrified as well if someone were trying to attach the equivalent of four vacuum cleaners to my nipples.

Wellington/Porirua, New Zealand

2009-02-18T22:56:00.000-08:00

Like my previous adventures in South America, I set some unofficial goals before setting out. Unlike South America, here I speak the language, albeit different and sometimes with jest, I can get my point across without having to literally point.

I have been searching for unique situations, under normal or in the relative stateside context of normal, that I wouldn't encounter. Several examples include working for accommodation/food, hitchhiking, and further self-exploration through places rarely seen. More or less I was trying to get the most bang for my buck or assuming absolute minimalist travel without being completely down-on-my-luck (i.e. homeless).

Porirua was just what I imagined. Upon my arrival George put me to work, at first sizing up her roommates then with her co-workers at the scrap-yard. But before I continue let me provide a little background. George is a kiwi friend of mine from South America. We worked many projects together with Burners Without Borders in Peru. Our conversations always render healthy debate or discussion and we seemingly always pick up where we left off.

George works at a place called the Trash Palace, a non-profit scrap yard that prevents metal from entering the tip (landfill) and employs the borderline unemployable. Her co-workers are recovering drug addicts and patients receiving treatment for psychological disorders. Not a day goes by where a delusional adventure or outburst doesn't seamlessly join the work-day banter. "To laugh and sympathize is the best medicine."

I spent a week with these guys and gals and truly found their company different, but refreshing. I was made tea and given pies on my first day! I have had other first days in more aspiring positions where I haven't felt nearly as welcome. Strong, capable people, given a chance to work and provide a valuable service to society. As refreshing is the rain, so is allowing someone to achieve things through his/her given abilities.

At the end of several days I learned about the innards of microwaves, sledgehammered a cast iron bathtub, been on tour with Bob Marley, and seen a half-dozen things to make me smile for quite a while.

Speaking candidly with George allowed me, a part-time volunteer, to understand the difficulties that she, the management and her staff face. I gained an understanding of the real strength of man, or in this case woman - humanity. It's mental strength to accomplish great things. To have patience, temperance, and the desire to persevere - to get the job done.

Why isn't the mind considered the stongest muscle in the human body?

Regardless, we shouldn't be so fast to dismiss those who are viewed to be less able. They may not be able to understand the environmental impacts of scrap metal recyling, but they sure understand the feeling of hard work and a job well-done.

Uruti Point, New Zealand

2009-02-07T21:13:00.000-08:00

Great food, good drinks, and extraordinary hospitality. The gold standard has been set. It's was by complete accident, or at least my ignorance of signage that our paths even crossed. Aforementioned in the previous post, most of the land surrounding Uruti Point is private. As an outsider it was very difficult to tell where you could and where you couldn't go. So, when in doubt I just kept driving.

I pulled into a small gated area with a trailer and a few tents assuming people were camping illegally. A few minutes later it was obvious I was the one in error. I spoke with a nice young kiwi woman and she explained it was private land and they worked on the farm. I told her I would only be a few pictures worth and would she mind if parked there for a bit. "No problem at all," she said. " We are down here surfing and hanging on the beach, come join us."

I snapped a few photos and decided not to bother them any more. In my haste I forgot about the soft sand and didn't get the speed necessary to carry the hazard. William and John were quick to my rescue and a few minutes later were inviting me to stay and camp. I said, "sure, but I wanted to get a little more driving while I had light." Knowing good and well that I wasn't going to return I set off. I drove about halfway in the direction I came and realized this offer was too good. I had no water, very little food, nowhere to sleep, and was a long drive from home.

I was well to make do with my sandwich, chips, cookies, and water, but to my new friends this was out of the question. John and Tom were just baiting the crayfish pots and loading the boat. Before I knew it we were tearing through the sand, three people to a four-wheeler, towing John's boat. Jenny, the lovable canine was along for the chase.

We arrived at this little cove around the corner and dropped the boat. John said, "Sam, you can help Tom set the pots." I got in the boat and Tom said, "row like F&$@." Realizing I had never rowed a boat with two oars I began what must have been considered the worst, most unorthodox example of jackassmanship imaginable. Luckily Tom had given us a solid push and my efforts weren't necessary and a bit more embarrassing as the motor roared to life.

We set the pots and screamed back to shore in time for the fresh mutton chops to hit the grill. Did I mention this was a sheep farm? Oh yes, and they were good! So good that at the end of the evening I was standing over the grill with Jenny devouring the remnants of already picked bones.

After dinner a couple of beers and good conversation capped the evening. As the "who are you and where are you from" questions began I realized how small the world really is. Turns out one of the campers had a niece that lives not far from where I grew up. Go figure! I slept under the stars with the sound of the ocean as I drifted to sleep. No tent, but completely content.

Before leaving I had nice walk along the isolated coastline wading through tidal pools. Hermit crams, shrimp, fish, snails, and an assortment of other things I can't name made for a very neat viewing experience. By far the coolest aquarium I've seen in awhile.

Of course, upon returning from my walk the food was already on the grill. This time it was paua, or abalone and it was delectable. As for the kina, well, it was best put by the resident kiwi guru when he said, "it tastes like bitter turds." Orange, extremely salty, gooey and flat gross - not to be confused with a flat white. A traditional coffee favorite that is very nice. All-round the experience scores a perfect ten!

Wairarapa, New Zeland

2009-02-07T18:33:00.000-08:00

"Wairarapa is a region of big skies, wide valleys and small towns, full of character. With three major forest parks and a wild stretch of coast it offers endless possibilities for outdoor adventures or just getting away from it all." ~ http://www.wairarapanz.com/?q=node/2

The above statement is good, but generic. It doesn't sum up the intangible and unexpected. It's like a bad mission statement that doesn't actually sum up what really goes on there. Maybe that's why it was a little less traveled. In fact, I probably would have missed this area all together if not for the recommendation of a few locals. I was told the surf is good and the drive to get there was even better.

From Porirua to Masterston there are a number of quaint towns featuring local wines, fresh produce, and turn of the century settlement architecture. Boutiques and shops often carry local crafts and the area from Featherston to Martinborough to Greytown and Masterston is part of the wine trail. Unlike Napa or Mendoza vineyards are a little harder to spot amongst the many paddocks and grass lands, but if you look they are there.

the dive on the eastern side of Masterston is fantastic, winding its way through and over rolling, but sometimes steep hills. Keep your eyes on the road as distractions, and there are many, could end in wishing you purchased the extra coverage from the rental agency.

Arriving in Castle point you are greeted with a teal blue sea, and rock cliffs or reefs that dive directly in to the ocean. Drive you car directly on the beach and climb the outer reef to take your chances fishing. Be careful because posted signs warn of rouge waves that engulf the area and have killed many people.

If you are looking for surf, just below Castle Point is a small inlet that pushes the water upward creating decent waves in the sheltered cove. To the bystander it was obviously popular as the beach was lined with camper vans and 4X4's.

Further south along a partially paved road is Riverdale Beach. It's very nice, but doesn't have the distinctive coastline of Castle Point. A large development was planned on the hills behind the town with extraordinary views, but looks to have stalled.

About 10 minutes down another dirt road is Uruti Point. It requires venturing into pasture land and opening and closing gates, but once there it is definitely worth the trip. A good surf break, craggy rocks on the shoreline, and beautiful blue water joining the vast paddocks are picturesque. But beware, as most of this land is private, camping is not permitted.

You can continue a little further down the coast via dirt roads, but I choose to head inland on the sealed surfaces and catch the Martinborough Fair. The city center was blocked off and full of local vendors for all over the region. Local vintners had their best vintages available, and street food galore. My favorite was the Old Time Blues Band playing in a miniature stagecoach. A small crowd regaled the sounds of classic American blues as others sought shade.

Continuing on I made my way to Lake Ferry and ultimately Cape Palliser and the Fur Seal Colony at Black Rocks. Both were very enjoyable and worth the drive down. I believe I have more to say if it hadn't been my two intense days of driving. That and I was unofficially borrowing someones car. The kilometer tally for the two day trip was ever-increasing as I proceeded to make u-turn after u-turn.

In my opinion, this area is definitely worth spending sometime exploring. I would have liked to stay a night or two camping in Puntangirua Scenic Reserve. Driving by while trying not to go over the cliffs on narrow roads did not lend much to observation, but it looked nice and appeared popular.

Tongariro National Park, New Zealand

2009-02-04T23:59:00.000-08:00

There is something exciting about setting off with strangers that can't be avoided. A chance to get to know someone new and experience an amazing place never before seen by either party. It's the feeling of discovery, not just of the environment in which we live, but a discovery of our own interactions with others. Apprehension can consume at first, but eventually this passes and you are left with the understanding that people are different, but no matter what separates them, each can appreciate awe-inspiring natural beauty.

Our discovery began with a harrowing escape from Tauranga. It wasn't dangerous in the least, just unlikely we would have ever left without asking for directions. With a hand-drawn map and broken English captions we made our way south, through Rotorua for a quick fix of hydrogen-sulfide (geyser flatulence), and a quick swim in Lake Taupo. We arrived in Tongariro (Mordor minus the fire and brimstone) a little later than expected and decided to stay at one of the many DOC (Department of Conservation) free campsites.

On a side note, New Zealand is incredibly good at providing free camping, park access, and information. The best way by far to see this country is in a rented vehicle. Whether you are shacking up in a campervan, old-school corolla, or a newly minted Toyota it's the only way to travel. There is so much to see you really need the flexibility of being your own guide, especially if trying to travel on the cheap. In fact, you can even buy a used car for what it would cost to rent for a month or two. This is a good option if arriving early in the season and departing with time to spare. The closer to winter you get the pool of buyers for resale decreases sharply.

Our first night camping was at a DOC (Department of Conservation) campsite about 30 kilometers south of Turangi on Motorway 1. Urchin was a good site, with decent toilets, and access to several shorts tracks. The only downside was that the nearest water was approximately 2 kilometers away. If you are looking for seclusion, this is the place. We were the only campers and didn't see another car on the 3 kilometer drive from the motorway.

The site provided good access to the National Park and the tourist center in Turangi was very helpful, even after hours. The next morning we made for the trail head at Magnatepopo Rd. around 7:00 a.m. and dropped two people off. Jokingly one of my travel mates said, "how's that for German efficiency." A quick witted response for my remarks about our directional debacle the day before.

Because of the uncertainty of catching shuttles from the trail end back to the carpark at Magnatepopo we decided the third person would drop the car at an adventure outing company and pay to take the shuttle back to the trail head. This saved us a little cash by not paying for three fares on the shuttle, but also allowed us a safe and reliable alternative to leaving the car in the carpark (parking lot for all those unaffiliated with kiwi verbiage).

The ascent to the red crater isn't too steep and despite chilly temperatures and wind (typical of alpine tracks) a pleasant walk. The rugged landscape, etched by ancient flows of lava, ash, wind, and rain create a spectacular natural display.

The walk totals 19.1 kilometers and ends in a slow decent to about the same elevation from the start, 1100 meters above sea level. The highest point is at 1900 meters above sea level and offers tremendous views of the valley's below. Overall, the Tongariro Alpine Crossing was a great day!

Tauranga, New Zealand.

2009-02-04T23:42:00.000-08:00

To make a story even shorter, I had to bail on Auckland. I mean, it's a nice city, but a city in the end. I didn't come all this way to experience the bars, pubs, and clubs of yet another urban nightscape. Desperation led to a last minute bus ticket from www.nakedbus.com. Yes, I am serious and clothing was required, not optional

Arrived in Tauranga to find the hostels full and/or closed but met some bar promo folks in the street and they directed me to Loft 109 (www.loft109.co.nz). It was a great place and just what I was looking for - I couldn't handle another party hostel or a place where the only social behavior was engaging a television set. John and Sue, the new owners were friendly, hospitable, and the almost "parents" that young backpackers seek for the nostalgia of home.

Tauranga in general is a quiet beach town, but does have a wild night life. Hen and stag parties were in full force and every other bar had live music. So much live music that the sounds of dance techno blended with the live proceedings of 90's American rock from neighboring establishments. Nonetheless, the party was just as fun.

The only downside was that I left the loft with only $15 NZ in hopes of an inexpensive couple of beers with my new friends. As the first round was bought by one of the girls from Hamilton, I decided at the next pub to re-pay her kindness. I went to the drink list only to find $10 NZ mixed drinks and $6.50 NZ beers. A little short, I asked the bartender if she could make it work and explained my dilemma. She obliged and I was lucky enough to get both drinks and a decent example of "helping a brother out."

Again, this trip hasn't' been about the bar scene as much as it is trying to extend this adventure a big longer. I decided the best course of action was to mosey southward, this time with the intention to couch surf. As chance would have it, my bunk mates were going in the same direction as I with a car and tent. Off we went like three peas in a pod, or in this case three schnitzels on a plate .

Auckland, New Zealand

2009-01-29T16:52:00.000-08:00

The streets were packed with people, kebab stands lined both sides and the alley ways, and my dormitory room smelled of sweaty feet. The hostel was small compared to several other in town with only 150 beds. My bed rattled with the bass from middle-eastern techo blarring in the shop next door and I wondered if my slightly unstable roomate was going to lash out.

The second night brought the characters out in full swing. John, whom I origionally thought was just a local drunk bunking in the hostel for a couple of nights began to express a variety of other emotions. I explained that North and South Carolina had not combined to form one state, that Russia did not give control of Alaska to the U.S. in 1978, and that I was pretty sure a visa to pick fruit didn't require a residency permit. Initially puzzled he finally gave way to logic or was it me who was bending. Today I have no idea as I have never been talked in circles through incoherence so badly. Our conversation ended with him leaving the room saying, "slowly slowly, catch the monkey."

On the third night I went out with the Scots for a few games of pool where they worked. Unfortunatly, they lost their jobs as we were playing pool and decided to self medicate. Ouch! was awakened to the sound of gurggling and then the spattering of some liquid on my bag, clothes, and me. I kept telling myself it was water and rolled over went back to deal with the situation a couple hours later. Upon further review, I believe it was actually water that never completely made it down the hatch. Bile free!

My last day and night in Auckland was relatively normal. I spent the afternoon researching Working Holiday Visas and contemplating if it was worth the money and time for a couple of months at most That evening I shared some sushi with a couple of British girls who were traveling around the world for a year. One was a financial planner for HSBC who expressed how relieved she was to be traveling and not soothing clients amidst the market turmoil. I agreed.

New Zealand: Last Great Paradise

2009-01-26T23:18:00.000-08:00

As the rain poured, and the mountains gushed from every crevasse, our tale was just beginning. It is said that rain on your wedding day is considered good luck, so maybe it's true for travel excursions as well. Typically, we view rain and clouds as the bane of a good day, but on this day the hills came to life.

Milford Sound, New Zealand and Fiordland National Park receives over 21 feet of rainfall every year. The moisture off the Tasman Sea collides with the high peaks of the Southern Alps. Low clouds and heavy mist collect to form majestic waterfalls that plummet hundreds of feet to the sound below or simply vanish off the cliff face, joining passing clouds as vapor.

Talk about your introductions! This trip had the makings of a great Hollywood classic, oh wait - Lord of the Rings. Much of the tale was filmed throughout New Zealand because of the dramatic landscapes and pristine collection of national parks.

The tour aboard the Clipper Odyssey was not to retrace the epic journey of Froto to Mordor, but to give folks a glimpse of a world unlike their own - a journey. Isn't that why we travel in the first place? As the story goes, New Zealand did not disappoint.

Over the next 13 days we sailed to various ports of call including Doubtful Sound, Dusky Sound, Stewart Island, Ulva Island, Dunedin, Christchurch, Marlboro Sound, Picton, Wellington, Bay of Plenty and Rotorua, Bay of Islands and Keri Keri, and Auckland. I could write about each of these wonderful stops individually, but that would spoil the adventure.

Each excursion was preceded by a lecture on history, international relations, climate change, or the local flavor of each respective location. Experts on the subject matter were from MIT, Emory, and the Regional Council of Otago. Needless-to-say, the quality of information presented was only rivaled by the dramatic natural wonders by which we were surrounded.

Just like any tale, it's the unknown or unexpected that sets the story apart. The same principal applies to my journey aboard the Clipper Odyssey. The most spectacular part of the trip was the return from Stewart Island in the zodiac. Behind the boat was a flock of birds, including the Royal Albatross (the largest, and rarest of the all albatross species), feeding as the sun was setting. It was unexpected and exciting.

Through traveling I have found that expecting the unexpected is how nature shows its unique form. Tourism is great, but planned events have a synthetic, artificial feel. Just as the albatross shows itself in the fading rays of daylight, so do people when left to explore. I can't say enough about the crew and fellow passengers aboard the ship. They provided a unique element of education, experience, tales of lives lived, and hospitality. Cheers!

Queenstown, New Zealand

2009-01-12T22:08:00.000-08:00

First full day in Queenstown after 12 straight hours of sleep. Woke up early and immediately began wandering the streets. Those of you that know me best understand this to be normal.. Casually unprepared, I dipped into a coffee shop for a little internet action, grabbed a local paper and identified my mark - The Ben Lombard Trail.

After a short walk-in, about 20 minutes, I reached the Gondola station that overlooks the city. Feeling pretty good, I took the fork less traveled and started my ascent to the large peak behind me. I made it to the saddle, but out of water and a noticably burned schnoz, I decided it best to turn back and take a nap by the the lake.

The grass is perfectly manicured and the subtle lapping of the crystal clear lake is enough to make you think you are in heaven. If not for the occasional rumble of a boat motor or "woah" from a passing paraglider, perfectly uninterrupted slumber isn't too much to ask for.

Queenstown is full of bustling tour operators with everything from kayaking to bungy jumping. Apparently, just up the road is where bungy first began. For the adventure enthusiast, this town lacks nothing. As of yet I haven't committed myself nor my wallet to any of these activities, but the week is young.

Out and about!

2009-01-11T15:56:00.000-08:00

Well, to make a long story short, I am extremely fortunate to have found my way into another little excursion. This time it's to New Zealand for two weeks, but could be longer - we'll just have to see. As the timeline of events stands, I bought a plane ticket a week ago yesterday (subtracting another day for the International Date Line), boarded a plane in ATL yesterday, or two days ago, and am currently sitting in an internet cafe in Queenstown, New Zealand. Haven't slept at all because of incessent leg cramping - challenging myself to a distance run before boarding a plane for 20+ hours wasn't the brightest of ideas.

So, this brings me to the present and might I add that I am presently suprised. The weather is warm and the skies are blue, the water is clear and the air is clean. Nice boutiques line the street offering clothes of the wildest of adventures. The computers are new and everyone speaks the same language. It's a stark contrast to my last adventure, but in its own right just as cool.

I learned a few things native on my flight over. Seatbelts are "done up" not fastened and I am your "mate" no matter how little I tip. No setbacks except for the announcement from airline crew upon beginning our decent into New Zealand, "please have you U.S. Customs Declaration Forms ready." Huh! A brief twilight zone moment later I was no longer panicked.

So, here I am. There is something about traveling that makes the simple things in life all the more evident. I got to see sunset and sunrise from the air yesterday. Both equally colorful and humbling in a way that makes you really want to see as many as life will allow. Stay tuned as this trip unfolds. Blogging here is much more accomodating than various locales in South America.

Cheers!

Election Day Getaway! Florida?

2008-11-03T18:41:00.000-08:00

On the eve of the election I was sitting here thinking about how the loosing presidential candidate might want to take a little sabbatical after the dust settles. What better way to relax and watch his adversary adjust to political turmoil, a tanking economy, and a continuing conflict abroad.? I think a little rest from all the campaigning might be nice for all of us. The Nay-Sayers are screaming that they don't have the money, the economy is bad and it's better to save than spend. Well, yes, on some level that is true. I mean there is no reason someone should go into debt over leisure travel. But, if you have a little extra cash, why not take advantage of unprecedented economic vulnerabilities. Look at Warren Buffet. He isn't jet-setting around the world, but he is taking advantage of undervalued assets.

First of all, gas is at it's lowest point in the last six months, including the summer high season. A road-trip is about twice as easy to stomach now than it was just a couple of months ago. Secondly, when the economy is bad, deals are to be had. Just as the stock market plunges and value is lost, so are the rental incomes of property owners. Even better, the tightening of the credit markets has opened up a slew of sellers who are now sitting on assets they would rather not own. Any income is good income, so bargain rental rates are everywhere. Take Florida for example. Warm, sunny, great beaches, and one of the highest mortgage default rates in the country. I am willing to bet there are plenty of folks willing to give you their house for the month (or a long weekend) for the price of one months mortgage payment.

Lastly, I understand the logic to save rather than spend - for that rainy day, when the economy inevitably gets worse. Now, it depends on where you think the economy is going. Personally, I think the dollar is being setup to fall hard against foreign currencies. Consider a serious devaluation in consumer buying power. Traveling abroad isn't going to get any easier in the coming months. Couple that with higher energy prices and you are looking at simultaneous inflationary pressure on costs of goods. So, why not travel now. Inject your cash back into the economy, helping to put more money back in the banks so they can start lending again. Debt is unfortunate, but that appears to be one way to get ourselves out of this little situation.

This post wasn't to scare folks, just put another option on the table. You can either watch the value of your assets drop further, or spend the money on a memorable trip with family and friends. In the end we only have our memories. So, schlep on over to Florida and enjoy a little fun in the sun whilst the new president elect tries to hold down the fort.

samstravels7 version 2.0

2008-11-03T18:12:00.000-08:00

I decided to take a few of the new features within Blogger and my Google account in an attempt to focus the content of this website. As the name reads, this blog is about travel. So, going forward I hope to post content relative to just that.

A few of the changes include a custom search box to the right. This has been formatted to search many of my favorite travel websites, not only for deals but excellent commentary. There has been the inclusion of AdSense with targeted content to assist those visiting whom might be looking for something particular. My own content will be more targeted to include further insight into places I have been as well as those I have yet to visit. Lastly, the right column will include my daily readings of travel and current events.

It has been great sharing my travel with everyone over the past year and I hope to continue going forward. I have appreciated all your comments and wish you all safe travels!

"A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving." ~ Lao Tzu

Epic Days!

2008-08-07T09:03:00.001-07:00

I have spent the last couple of weeks traveling I-95, learning a little more about my own country and seeing old friends. It began with a quick stay in NYC with two friends that I studied with in Buenas Aires, Argentina, then I continued to Cape Cod where it was an Ambassador reunion (i.e. college friends). It was blast. We did nothing but eat, drink, and be merry. Of course, with the occasional political conversation, but hey, that's what friends are for. Occasionally, they challenge you way of thinking.

Next I was on to Boston to see a little of this country's most interesting history. I admit the T is a little confusing, but when you ahve a good local tour guide it's fairly mindless. After wearing out my welcome there, I was off to meet Raleigh in Manchester, NH. We overnighted in an Econolodge, and then the next morning were off to N. Conway to meet some friends of his and jump back on the AT. Raleight is currently thru-hiking southbound and had jumped off to suprise his mom in NC for her birthday. Since, having started he had suffered through rain about every day. I believe it was one of the wettest summers in New England history. And, the trend continued while Raleigh and I hiked through The Whites.

It was our second day on the trail when Raleigh and I had our first Epic Adventure. We started out late because of lightening and thunder. Leaving the shelter we made good time towards our destination. Our intention was to possibly meet his friends at a visitor center and either bivy out back of possibly catch a ride into town for a hot meal. After the day we had, we choose the latter. So, we arrive at one of the huts around 5:00 p.m. and decide to press on another 6 miles to make the VC and get our hot meal. Our thinking was 2 miles per hour, how difficult could this be. We had been averaging well over this pace the entire time walking. So, we setout. Around 8.15 p.m. we were finally at the top of the ridge, yikes. We could the VC was a couple thousand feet below us, packed with dry, warm, tourists. Once again, we were really looking forward to doning our warm, dry clothes so we continued to meet our friends. It began to rain really heavily just as the sun set behind the mountains so we put on the headlamps. Unfortunately, mine was only had the red tinted lense for reading in close quarters, which proved to be supremely ineffective for navigating steep, slippery rocks, in fog, at night.

About two hours later, after loosing the trial twice and charing through a caution tape barrier (marking the trail was closed) we arrived at the river. The only thing standing between us and the VC. Against our better judgement we charged the river with packs unbuckled in case we were swept away. The water was moving pretty good because of hte contiuous rain and quickly we found ourselves on hands and knees crwaling. Upon reaching the other side, we were estatic. Another quick one mile hoof to the VC and we were headed back to town. Fresh zucchini muffins, pine nut pasta and hot showers were just what we needed.

Once again, the kindess of strangers or at least new friends is overwhelming. Just when you are beat down and need a few nice gestures, you find the kindness of another. It boils down to a few simple things when hiking, let alone life. Food, water, shelter, and someone to talk too...these things can make the most of any situation.

Transitions

2008-07-07T09:18:00.000-07:00

Why is it that when our entire lives are ahead of us, all we can think about is where we started?

After traveling for the past eight months throughout Argentina, Chile, Bolivia, and Peru, I was a little perplexed as to where to go next. Two destinations lay ahead, one coastal and the other high in the Andes, yet I still couldn't make up my mind. Was it travelers anxiety? Or was I just plain tired of moving around, making new friends, and adjusting to the different ways of doing things. For whatever reason, it was my first moment of perplexity since I started.

There I sat eating ice cream, listening to screaming children, and observing the resolve of a disabled man selling DVD s. I asked myself what I truly wanted to do. It wasn't to continue hiking and climbing or to challenge myself with a new feat like learning to surf or play the guitar. It was what everyone in the park had and I didn't. Something more familiar. Until this point, I had been moving to quickly to miss family and friends. Can you outrun your emotions? If you never look back you don't know what's behind you.

The previous three months were a major slowdown in my sometimes brutal pace through South America. It gave me time to think and reminisce about the nostalgia of home and the relationships we as humans so desperately need. Seeing and working with people whom have little more than relationships reminded me of what I missed so much about home. Thus, as quickly as I arrived in Argentina, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed, I left Peru.

The next night I was on a plane to Atlanta, GA where a good friend picked me up at the airport. First encounters are always funny, but I never expected to be told that I smelled like a burrito. Oh well, at least I was a happy burrito. The transition was slow and for at least a week I couldn't figure out whether to order food in restaurants using Spanish of English. There was an attempt to restore drinking habits to days of lore, but ended in way too much hang over for this old man to endure. After a week in Atlanta with old friends, baseball, and more fast food than should ever be eaten in one week, I set off for Greensboro with the girlfriend of a good buddy. These random acts of kindness are what makes traveling so fun.

Walking through the door to surprise my parents was the only way I could imagine arriving home. Big celebrations and to-do's are not my preference, and frankly I just wanted to see the look on their face. Dad looked like he had seen a ghost and mom said I instantly cured the twitch in her left eye. She was a little angry that I made my sister cover for a week while I was galavanting around in Atlanta, but not angry enough to kick me back out in the cold.

At the moment, I find myself in Wilmington visiting G'ma. An afternoon thunderstorm is moving across the inland counties and I can hear the thunder in the distance. The last thunder and lightening I saw was when we were sitting on a desolate beach on Isla del Sol, Lago Titicaca, Bolivia. In the distance, huge cumulous clouds bellowed as shooting stars reined from above. Tonight there are no stars beneath the city glow. There are no farm animals taking an unaccompanied after dinner stroll down the beach. While there are children at play, the surf warnings keep them out of the water. SUV's drapped with racks carrying bikes, boards, etc. are the only odd beasts I see wandering through the streets. People are tucked into their McMansions discussing the tomato problems of U.S. agriculture. I look at my surroundings and am thankful for everything I have, but more importantly everything I have seen. To have had the opportunity to live and work alongside people so aware of the daily struggle to get by makes me just a little less concerned about pending recession and rising gas prices. Just maybe every so often we should feel a little discomfort to bring us a little closer to understanding what it means to get by. When it is all said and gone, after a jaunt of creative destruction, of loneliness and isolation, I found there is nothing quite like home.

The only similarity between that night on the beach in Lake Titicaca and the night on Wrightsville is that I am listening to the same iPod and song. Wagon Wheel by Old Crow Medicine Show plays the same way no matter how many times I have heard it. The opening verse a mantra for my journey back home. I just never imagined a disabled man selling DVD's in Lima would be the headlights.

Headed down south to the land of the pines
And I'm thumbin' my way into North Caroline
Starin' up the road
And pray to God I see headlights

So, you may ask: Is this the end of my travels? I believe it would be more appropriate to say it's the beginning. Like I said before, you can go to the most amazing places on earth and have a miserable time, as you can go to the most miserable places on earth and have the best of times. Travel is about seeing the world and all it's people. Relationships along the way are just as magnificant as the mountains you climb. While people will loose contact, memories and impressions will last as long as you let them. To all those I met along the way, thank you for making my trip so memorable. To all those I have yet to meet, I am looking forward to it.

Chincha Project Update

2008-06-20T14:05:00.000-07:00

Chincha turned out to be a fantastic project with so much to offer. During my time we dug the sistern, solid septic tank, perforated tank, leveled a basketball sized area by hand, built columns, rendered, and above all helped a local community get a few steps closer to a brand-new earthquake resistant school.

Yet, the work is no-where near complete and more help is needed. On the horizon work includes the completion of the patio, construction of the re-bar reinforced septic systems, begin new foundations for an additional three classrooms, and complete the original section of the school that is currently being rendered. So, if anyone is interested, please contact this group to give you the low down. Short-term help is certainly welcome, but long-term assistance would be amazing.

The new house is great. Only found one scorpion in my pants once, but at least it didn´t sting anything...haha. I am jokingly not joking, but seriously the house has come along nicely since our first days of completing electrical circuits in the shower with our heads. "Ouch, can someone go flip the breaker at the neighbor´s house?"

With some sadness and a little bit of uneasiness, I must be on my way, continuing my trek north towards a destination unknown. My time here in Pisco and Chincha with BWB was amazing. I arrived as the 200Th volunteer and during the past 9 weeks I have had the pleasure of working with over 100 new faces. The "long-termers" make it home, but many of the fresh faces are the source of energy and moral a group of hard-working, hard-living folk need.

El Colegio - Condorillo Alto, Chincha, Peru

2008-06-08T14:43:00.000-07:00

It appers I am on the one post a month track, so here is a little update in my travels. Currently I am spending most of my time in Chincha, Peru. A slightly larger town just north of Pisco, Chincha has a little more to offer in the respects of safety, restuarants, bars, etc.

My first couple of weeks here were spent digging holes. I now consider myself an expert with a digging bar (long, weighty piece of steel with sharpened ends). Used for prying or demolishing rocks, I think it is my favorite tool...well, other than fire. I learned that you can break rocks with fire. Who knew? As well, a thick black plume of smoke really helps the cab drivers find our location. To clarify, Toto (a local worker) devised a brilliant scheme to burn tires to heat rocks so they can be lifted out of the holes. And, by holes I mean 15 x 10 x 15 foot monsters.

We are building a six classroom school in conjunction with a Spanish NGO (Camino de la Solaridad). Previously the NGO funded and built an Albergue where women who have been rapped and had children can stay and live until the children reach the age of two. The Albergue is a great facility and really provides a type of care that isn´t often found in developing regions. The hope is that the young women will also be able to attend the school upon competion. It is a great project with alot of work to be done. We are a little short on volunteers so it seems like the work never ends.

All-in-all things are well. Last night we celebrated our new house here in Chincha with a few beers and chicken - the standard fare. This week will consist of more digging and rendering the walls of the first three classrooms. We are actively looking for more volunteers so if you or anyone you know is interested, drop me a comment.

Cornerstone Project - Burners Without Borders, Pisco, Peru

2008-06-08T13:23:00.000-07:00

I have gotten a few questions about what we are doing here in Pisco so I decided to post an informational video produced by some of my fellow volunteers. This is just one example of how we spend our time. Other activities include beer drinking, getting chased by rabid dogs, enduring frequent tremors, and intense shart avoidance.

In serious, this is just one of the projects we have. It is the first step to providing a cleaner, safer community. Below is text copied from the Burners´website to provide a little more detail. For more information, just visit the Burners´ website or click on the link below to open a .pdf file.

Imagine camping in a tent with your entire family, almost smack dab on the equator in the middle of the desert since August 15 of last year. Open sewers surrond you, complete with mosquitoes and flies, and all this time you have not had the ability to take a shower or use a proper toilet. Imagine not knowing when your situation would improve as you watch your neighbors for miles around you stuggle through the same predicament. BWB volunteers witness the daily challenges the families in Pisco must face to cook, bathe or access water. And while the government continues to provide some temporary housing, a solution to the sanitation problem is not included. This is dangerous, because the doctors here tell us that more people will die in the next year from the lack of proper sanitation than dies in the earthquake.

BWB has come up with a solution that addresses the short-term as well as the long-term needs of the residents -Adopt a Cornerstone Project. This project is so innovative it has the attention of the U.N. and Peru's Director of Sanitation; they are looking at how they may be able use this design as a part of their reconstruction plan.
What is it? Sam Bloch assessed the gaping need for a solution to the sanitation issue early on and began working on a plan that includes a shower, toilet and kitchen with a wash basin. No matter what the family's housing situation may be, they will have access to clean, safe sanitation. In addition, the rebar reinforced cement structure acts as a solid cornerstone from which the family can build their permanent home.

http://www.burnerswithoutborders.org/bwb-goes-to-peru-we-need-your-support

Burners Without Borders - Pisco, Peru

2008-05-09T16:58:00.000-07:00

How goes it everyone? It obviously has been a long time since my post and you are probably wondering what I have been up too. The last edition left me somewhere near La Paz and you might be wondering whether or not I got hung up in the lucrative drug tourism business. The answer is no as I managed to avoid the coke dens altogether. Interesting to learn about, but frankly, just my cup of tea.

So, off I went to Copacabana (Isla del Sol), Puno, Cuzco, Machu Picchu and surronding areas, Arequipa, Cabanaconde (Colca Canyon), Ica (Huacachina), and ultimately Pisco, Peru where I now reside. Probably the least traveled place on the aforementioned Gringo Circuit, but one that definately needs attention. In short, upon arrial I thought I was in a war zone. A little bit of sea fog and dust mixed together to create a dreary haze shrouding crumbled adobe buildings and the remnants of a once bustling seaside community. The city was devastated last August by an 8.0 earthquake about 60 k.m. offshore.

As I was travling in northern Argentina, I met a fellow traveler through Captain Asparragus (Will). Ian, a stone mason by trade handed me a flyer and said if I was looking for a rewarding experience and was in the area, stop by. So arrviving in Ica, about one hour via bus to the south, I contacted Burners Without Borders and told them I would be arriving the upcoming Sunday. After three days in Huacachina with the first, worst, and hopefully last bout of food-poisoning of this trip, I arrived at Soyuz station adjacent the Pan-American Highway. I disembarked the bus and approached a local taxista. I asked, "do you know where the house for BWB?" He didn{t, so I asked a group of gringos to no avail either. So I start chatting a younger, more talkative taxista and he says, "I don{t know the house, but I know of a street where there are alot of gringos." Good enough, let{s go! I didn{t want to hang around the outskirts of town looking lost too long .

Sure enough, the exact place he dropped me off was at the BWB house. Greeted by another volunteer, I put up my mosquito net and went to bed early in preparation for what I hoped to be very tough, difficult, dirty, manual labor. Three weeks later, with cement burns and blisters to prove it, I have not been disappointed. At the end of each day there is instant gratification. Whether it{s demolition or construction, our efforts are greatly appreciated by the local community. Probably will be here a couple more weeks as I have "moved up to the eastside." I traded my mosquio net for a tent atop a roof (ya know...away from tsunami zone, hopefully). Its a nice area of solitude tricked out with a double air matress and a view of sunset on the Pacific.

Below are a couple web addresses for various information about the project/organization and photos of past events. The most recent concrete pour photos are up first in the album - we poured 224 bags for the roof of a school in one day! Also, I will go ahead and publish the Picasa Web Album as well eventhough it is incomplete...

http://www.burnerswithoutborders.org/bwb-goes-to-peru-we-need-your-support

http://flickr.com/groups/bwb-peru/

Huyana Potosi (6,088 m), La Paz, Bolivia

2008-03-29T10:09:00.002-07:00

Every once in awhile you have things in your life that make you just sit back, laugh and cry at the same time. These are not moments of pain, but incredible joy. A moment when something is so great it is almost humorous and your body, mind, and soul is overcome with amazement. All you can do is express the moment not in words or gestures, but the simplest of emotions (abiet opposite or one in the same).

Telling myself I would not leave Bolivia until I had climbed a moutain was a mere choice. Actually asking and answering my own questions as I trudged through ice and snow took much more than choice. For me, it was a point of exhaustion I have never reached before. It wasñ´t a choice as much as it was me begging my body to do this for my mind and soul. A point where they were almost disconnected, but somehow manged to get it together.

Day one was realtively easy as we learned safety techniques on a glacier and praticed absailing. That night Tom, Melody, and Valerie and myself decided we would attempt to be true mountaineers and camp in the snowstorm. It was cold, but we survived. Unfortunatly, the girls rented tent leaked.

We left the campsite (refugio) around 10:30 and began our hike from 4500 meters to 5200 meters (base camp). We carried our 50 L packs and ourselves through the altitude and arrived just after lunch. Lunch was brief because we would be eating again at 5:oo p.m. before lights out at six. Again, Tom and I decided to camp and made our site on about 12 inches of snow. A rock wall provided a wind barrier, but it was still cold. We slept inconsistant spurts, but were alive and ready when the alarm went off at 12:00 a.m. Everyone gathered in the refugio and put together their gear. Coca tea and cookies were eaten quickly and we went outside to get harnessed together. At 1:30 a.m. we left camp and began the long, slow climb uphill towards the summit at 6,088 meters.

At 5,800 meteres the air is noticibly thin and I found myself taking very short, consise breaths that were not getting the job done. My head began to pound, but it wasn´t enough to stop the accent. I took a few lessons from our guide Miguel and began my own form of simple meditation. At each rest, he would curl up in a ball, put his head down, and take long/exaggerated breaths. To no suprise, this technique helped tremendously.

The last couple hundred meteres of the climb is the most strenous. A 50 degree (slope) ice wall stands between the climber and the summit. The monotonous repitition of axe, foot, foot almost lulls the person to sleep, but a gentle tug from the guide in front reminded us not to wait too long and keep moving. Suddently, we were there! Miguel saying, ¨no mas¨ was a warning that if we walked any further it would be straight down the opposite side of the summit. Still in the pitch black of night we sat and congratulated each other on the climb.

It wasn´t until about halfway down the same slope we had just climbed to reach the summit, that I realized where I was. At that moment, I was dangling from a rope several hundred feet from the closest level ground, exhausted, cold, and feeling the effects of altitude when the morning sun began to appear on the horizon. Slowly the sky came alive with red, orange, purple, blue, and all the colors between. The sun illumintated the white face of the wall as a reflection of the skies brillance. The surronding valleys below were slightly shrouded by fog and low lying clouds, but each peak was cast as an island on a lake. The slopes below looked like the sand dunes of the sahara. At that moment I was laughing and crying at the same time. Unable to comprehend how "stupidly beautiful" my life was.

When I was recapping the climb with friends, one person said, ¨It must have been surreal?" I thought about that for a bit and wasn´t sure the definition of surreal was sufficient. Surreal is almost dream-like, but this instance was as close to reality as I have ever been. I am not sure my imagination could have created such a lucid and vibrant picture. The moutain and climb may have been beginner in terms of technical abilty, but it gave me all the challenges and rewards of something much more.

Gravity Assisted - Ghost Ride, La Paz Bolivia

2008-03-29T10:09:00.001-07:00

Torn between the beaten path and the new thing I decided to take the advice of the company´s owner, Alistair. The World{s Most Dangerous Road has always been the main travel attraction. A narrow dirt and rock path cut into the steep cliff sides of mountains. It earned it´s name for the many busses and cars that have plumeted thousands of feet off its cliffs. While this is appealing to my adventurous spirit, I was looking for something a little different. Perhaps a chance to attack a little of Bolivia´s world famous single-track?

And that{s just what we did! Sat out around 7:30 a.m. and drove north of La Paz to about 4,800 meters, where we were greated with a fresh snowfall and brisk morning air. The guides unloaded the bikes, gave us some last minute instructions, and we were off careening down a dirt road slightly covered with snow. Before leaving, the guides has stated that we usually had three choices...the easy way, the moderate way, and the hard way. They emphasized that the road is usually the easy and moderate way, while the path less taken (following the guides) was the difficult way.

I could tell from the first five minutes we had a fairly "balls-to-the-wall" group. At our first break, one of the riders got a little agressive on the front breaks and hurled himself into the group of stopped bikers. No injuries excpet for a set of squished nads and slighly bruised pride, but a spectacular crash. The free-riding continued for a few more minutes before we reached our first piece of single-track. Our guides Matt and Darren choose the "Point and Shoot" method as the best way to bomb the hill. Loyal subjects we were, we followed accordingly.

One hundred percent...everyone survived the first test. Now, on the the second section we weren{t so lucky. The most experienced rider in the group, other than the guides, took a nasty spill over the handle bars and ultimatly went to the hospital. Now, I must mention that he rode for another two hours before succombing to a broken coller bone. The "Kiwi" definately earned his merit badge for "I{m a badass and everyone should know it."

The rest of the ride was awsome. Screaming down narrow dirt roads, through waterfalls, over more great single-track, and ultimately finishing with a stair ride unto awaiting beers. A day well spent with Gravity Assisted Mountain Biking.

La Paz (Cholitas Wrestling), Bolivia

2008-03-19T06:47:00.000-07:00

Of all the cities I have visited so far, La Paz was the biggest suprise. I would like to preface that my experience may have been altered by the great people I met, but in general I think La Paz has a bright future amongst world travelers.

Having heard from other travelers the place to stay was The Adventure Brew Hostel I decided to check it out. A neat looking hostel just two blocks from the bus station it actualy houses a great bar with nightly activities and an on-site microbrew. Just what I needed to make myself even more lethargic.

The first night at the hostel was Sunday and apparently this is amateur wresting night in El Alto. We, and by we I mean the entire hostel boarded a retro school bus with beers in hand and drove 45 minutes up the cliffside. Along the way we had great views of the city and enjoyed our micro-brews. Apparently open container laws are a little different in Bolivia, let alone consuming on a school bus.

The night was filled with fire-breathing combatants, midgets used as weaponry, and more crowd participation than would ever be permitted by an insurance carrier in the U.S. I can say my favorite part of the evening was when one of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles turned on the referee and gave him the Pile Driver. Michaelangelo got his revenge....Cowabunga!

Sucre, Bolivia

2008-03-13T12:48:00.000-07:00

At the pace I am moving, I could still be in S. America next fall. Tourism is great, but very tiring. I think extended stays allow for a person to better familiarize themself with the area, people, and themselves. Constantly moving means you are constantly adapting to a different way of doing things.

Bolivia has been a test of awarness of my belongings. While Bolivia has delivered far more than I have ever expected and would highly reccomend to adventure travelers, you can forget where you are. So far, I have been lucky to only have had my debit card go missing, but was able to recover it - we are calling it the Sucre Shake Down. To make a short story even shorter, we had to press a laundry lady, make a little scene, and then the card mysteriously appeared in the dryer. Hum? While I am not here to make assumptions it was obvous when I asked about the card she immeditaly showed me the pants it hadn{t been in. Nonetheless, if she was a thief at least she was an honest one.

Sucre was a great place to visit. The streets are vibrant with markets and people and protests are common and passionate. The vibrations of fireworks annoucing a march through the plaza can be heard almost daily. It may sound a little strange to like a place with so much calamity, but there was no question this city was alive. As the constitutional capital of Bolivia, it is the center of debate amongst where the true capital should be.

Potosi (Silver Mine Tour), Bolivia

2008-03-12T14:14:00.000-07:00

Yep...I would be lying if I said I wasn{t nervous. In fact, I had serious thoughts of totally backing out. The thought of being four levels or 150 meters undergroud is terrifying. When you add several tidbits of information like: a) the mine has been in existence since the Spanish conquests of South America, and b) it resides in Bolivia - I had even more reason not to go. Yet, when in Rome or Bolivia...

The morning of the tour the entire hostel or just about everyone staying there had decided to go. We boarded into two buses and setout to get our mining suits on. These consisted of PVC pants and shirts, rubber boots, helmets, and head lamps. After a brief introduction and an explanation of the mine conditions, bandanas were for sale...brilliant!

Next stop was the processing plant. A place the smelled of vile chemicals and machinery grease. We walked through and got to see hot the ore is broken up, treated with chemicals, when/where the silver is extracted and what is done with the remaining sludge. Turns out, in this particular plant they were extracting not just silver from the ore, but copper and tin.

Last stop before the mine was to pick up some gifts for the miners. We were invited into a shop to learn about mining tools, methods or extraction, and to sample several of the miners favorite libations. I can say truthfully that I will never drink what appeared to be rubbing alcohol again. Paying the shop keeper for soda, dynamite, primer cord, amonium nitrate, and coca leaves we returned to the buses.

Arriving at the mine entrance I was even more nervous and started taking deep breaths. Somehow I thought I could store extra oxygen in my lungs in the event the mine collapsed. I realize this was a rediculous idea, but it made me feel better. Myself and six others then entered the mine as the spanish group. That was our team name because we had opted to have the tour in spanish. I figured it wouldn{t be hard to understand "run" in the event of disaster.

Two hours later we surfaced after a fantastic adventure. It was not for the physically or mentally weary. We ended up crawing on our hands and knees, scalling broken ladders, walking across planks that spanned open pits, and getting a real view of what the miners endure. It was a fantastic experience. These guys often work 12 hour days, six days a weeek. Rarely do they live past 35 years from the date they enter the mine. The conditions were very tough, but real. I was really happy to have taken the tour, but even happier the mine didnt collapse.

Before we returned to the hostel we had to opportunity to sample our miner{s market purchases. Ronaldo then asked me to roll the dynamite into a ball and wait for further insturctions. A minute of so later I am sitting there with a lit stick of dynamite in my hands with a real intense look of uncertainty on my face. After several minutes of photos with other people Ronaldo took off running down a hill and deposited the explosive along side several others. The answer to the question is yes, dynamite makes a really loud noise.

Salar de Uyuni (Jeep Tour), Bolivia

2008-03-09T12:11:00.001-07:00

I feel like I have just explored Mars. For the second time on this trip I have truely felt like I was visiting another world. The first time was in Antarctica observing nature without human influence. The most recent was our four day jeep tour through SW Bolivia. Again, isolation from the outside world enhanced the experience, but the different natural surrondings were unlike anything I have seen. Anytime your imagination is stretched it really is an amazing experience.

We left Tupiza and charged out across the desert towards the three country border of Chile, Argentina, and Bolivia. At the first stop we realized we had made a "clutch" choice in tour operator. They not only gave us a deal, Martine, our driver and guide had incredible knowledge of the area and his country - not to mention he was a mechanic. We stopped in the middle of a barren flood plain and ate like kings. The only place it wasn´t raining was exactly where we were standing. I told you Martine knew how to hook it up! Later we played with some kids in one of the local pueblas along the way. Bubbles and a little futbol made for a cool pit-stop.

Martine pointed out that may of these remote villages didn´t have any sort of electricity up until a few years ago. The tourism explosion has been able to provide needed monies to purchase solar panels. The government is also now requiring that kids attend school until age 11. Quechua, Spanish, and English are taught and it was a bit suprising to be greeted by children in remote villages using English phrases. After that, they can attend schools in larger communities. "Poco y Poco" is what Martine said. Slowly, but little by little we are being able to afford these remote villages the things that they need.

Despite feeling a little under the weather (altitude - 4500 meters above sea level), we decided to take the hill behind the town to get a view of the sunset. It was the endless ridge that kept getting further and further away. When we finally made it the view was incredible. Rolling hills, carved canyons, and low lying clouds were all glowing. In awe of our surrounding we simply forgot we had to walk back. Ooops! Trekking down this hill in the dark was definately not as fun as going up. Cacti were and issue.

Day 2 consisted of an early start. we were up at 5:30 but none of us had slept anyway. The neighbors friendly flea infested cat somehow kept gettting into our adobe hut. A quick breakfast and we were off before the other jeep that shared our quarters for the night. This would be a theme for the rest of the trip. Martine always had a knack for getting us the best sleeping spots, to places where no-other jeeps were, and just being ahead of all the other tour operators.

Day three was probably my favorite of all four. Ripping through hugh sand dunes, photographing weird rock formations, and just the overall colors of ancient volcanoes was awsome. But the best part of the day was the first part of the day. The night before Martine called it a little early and said we would do Laguna Colorada the following morning. His reasoning...the light will be perfect for photos, less wind, and less people. From the previous couple days we knew he was right. So, at about six we were up to watch the sun rise across the desert. A ten minute drive put us in one of the most tranquill spots I have ever seen. No wind, hundreds of flamingos feeding on shrimp in a rosey red lake. The water was heated by geothermal energy so steam was rising in the cool morning air. Lastly, the sun was just right to cast the surrounding mountain refelctions on the motionless water. That night we arrived in a Salt Hostel on the edge of Salar de Uyuni. Constucted of salt bricks, salt floor, but luckily not salt toilet we again got the jump on the rest of the groups. From our room we had a view of the salt flat looking east, which meant a perfect view of the sunrise the following morning.

Day four was just as adventurous as the first three. We took off down a constructed road crossing the flats and just as we thought things were going to be relatively calm, Martine gave a hail mary and wipped the wheel to the left. We were now driving on the salt with about 4-6 inches of water covering the surface. Completely devoid of other vehicle tracks we blazed a trail to Isla Pescada or fish island. Halfway through the trip we noticed that Martine wasn{t watching the salt and was actually cleaning his finger nails with a knife. Under any other circumstanes this would be abnormal, but the Salar de Uyuni is so flat and immense you could actually take a 10-15 minute siesta without hitting anything.

Incawasu is a really unique envionment. In the exact center of the lake this island was the home to one family of Inca. They survived by drinking the water out of giant cactus with reach up to 12 meters in height and live more than a thousand years. We took some great photos and learned a little more about the area. In places the salt is up to 30-40 meters thick and recently a Japanese company discovered there are large deposits of Lithium underneath(ya know, for computer batteries and such). Fortunatly, tourism on the salt flats is expaning and keeping pace with going price of Lithium in the marketplace. Only the future will tell.

Villazon/Tupiza, Bolivia

2008-03-01T06:54:00.000-08:00

The journey from Salta has been an interesting one. Will, Toff, and myself new the trip was about to get interesting. Traveling throughout Argentina and Chile for the past four months has been very enjoyable and easy. Buses are reliable and generally clean. All things from point A to B are straight forward and so-fourth.

Grabbing a taxi from the center of Salta, we quickly grabbed our packs from the hostel and went to the bus station. Since it was a last minute decision, we had bought some of the last seats on the bus. From the exterior, the bus looked first class, but the inside was a different story. Mind you, the transportation wasn´t bad, I was just accustomed to an Argentine standard. With trusty Serrong in hand I laid down a landing strip beneath me and passed out right away. Hard to believe just 24 hours earlier we were dancing at a folk festival in Cafayate.

First thing to do on a long bus journey is make sure the seats work properly. Will grabbed his pocket knife and began to jimmy his nob-less lever to release his seatback. Toff says, ¨You got it mate¨and begins to help him push it down. Quickly the lever releases and the seat falls in the lap of the lady behind him. From the spectator point of view, her facial expression was priceless. I can only imagine her inner monologue to say, ¨Gringos on a bus!¨

About an hour into the ride, I heard a grumbling behind me, only to find an intoxicated gentleman barfing all over the floor, himself, and his backpack. I was cool until the spatter hit my leg and I realized my backpack was on the floor. Quickly picking up my belongings, including my feet, I proceeded to sit the next hour in an uncomfortable fetal-like position. Fortunately, before round two could commence, the fella was asked to leave the bus. I thought about journaling the experience whilst the scent was fresh in my nostrals but decided to stick my head out the window instead. An expired periodical and some lemon cleaner and things were back to normal - sort of.

The rest of the ride was fairly uneventful. We arrived in La Quiaca and had to walk to the Bolivian boarder...buses cannot cross. A quick exit stamp from Argentina and we were off to the Bolivian immigration. Because I am from the US, I was lucky enough to pay $100 and fill out the additional paperwork. We´ve made it! We soon were made aware of an additional two hours we would have to wait for the train to Tupiza. What better way to kill a rainy day than drink beer and play cards with new friends. Arriving at the train station there was a three-man marching band and finger sandwhiches.

Salta (Road Trip 2), Argentina

2008-03-01T06:53:00.000-08:00

Only spent a couple of days in Salta and actually most was spent in a car to and fro Cachi and Cayafate. At the last minute we decided to hire another car a take off south 300 kilometers to a local folk festival. Apparently, everybody that´s anybody in NW Argentina would be in attendence.

We knew there wouldn´t be much chance of getting accomodation at the last minute, so we decieded to stay up all night and drive back the next morning early...stopping at some sights along the way. Well, it was good in theory, but the festival wasn´t as exciting as expected and we were all really tired. So, upon arriving we negotiated with a local campground to let us sleep on the floor of their gameroom. Ok, at least we had a place to stay. Completely unsatisfied, we went back to the local tourist office and found one of the ladies working had a house we could rent for the night (roughly five bucks per person). Sweet! We´ll take it

Home sweet home in our own little ghetto...jk. Actually the accomodations were reasonable considering our situation. We even had a chicken wire fence to "lock-in" the rental car and protect the stereo. Grabbing a couple of beers we listened to local artists, ate street meat, and eventually went in the show to see "Las Trekes." While the music was good, the dancing was fun. Covered in spray foam we danced or at least tried to dance like the locals. With a little help we didn´t look like complete gringos. As for our local guacho friend, apparently, he had his fill of coca leaves and frenet and was absolutely hillarious - running, screaming, and flailing about until...you guessed it, "the congo line."

The following morning we took off for the swimming hole, had a feast by the river, and were amazed the the tree cutter ants. They dismantled our sraps while we took siestas. Carrying pieces of bread that were three to four times their body size directly up a tree. Ian said, "It´s like carrying a Volkswagon Beatle in you mouth and climbing a 90 degree vertical cliff face."

Mendoza (Road Trip 1), Argentina

2008-02-24T06:03:00.000-08:00

Ended up spending a week in Mendoza and was actually fairly lazy until we decided to rent a car. We settled on National/Alamo becuase they were the cheapest and were happy with our two-door Volkswagon Gol. Cramming five people inside we tookoff for a two day trip to Upsallata, Aconcagua, and the Chilean border. The last thing said was by the company was, ¨little scrates don´t matter.¨ That´s good news because we spent the next two days primarily on dirt roads hugging cliffsides.

On the last day, headed back towards town I made the mistake of rubbing my eyes with sunscreen on my hands. So, for approximately 45 minutes I understood what it was to be blind. Unable to open my eyes I had to trust Will who was driving on these ridiculous roads. No guardrails, steep drops, and a low-ridding four-banger to get us up and down the dirt hills. It was one of those moments when you realize you are helpless if something should go wrong. I sat there pondering what it was like to put your trust completely in someone else´s hands. Yikes, I really had a hard time with it. I constantly wanted to see where we were going, but everytime I opened my eyes I had to close them immediately. It was really difficult not knowing what lay ahead. Definately a reminder of how often we try to over-control our own lives.

Chau Buenas Aires

2008-02-19T08:05:00.001-08:00

So, where to go? Truthfully, I really like BA. I have contemplated staying for awhile longer and possibly finding a revenue stream or at least occupying my time with other things. Currently I am not working, haven´t been volunteering, not taking classes. Basically, sitting on my rump and taking advantage of currency exhange. Not a bad thing, but I am a person who needs to be doing something. I feel idle and that is no good.

Vamos! Mark said, "Just go and explore and if you find something better, settle there, if not, BA isn´t going anywhere. You can always come back." Armed with this information, I have decided to finally leave BA and head to Mendoza, Argentina. Long-known as the wine region of Argentina, I am excited about sampling a few of the finer Malbecs at the local bodegas and enjoying the surronding scenery. I think it will be a nice jumping off point for heading north.

Boca Juniors

2008-02-13T07:45:00.000-08:00

Lucky for me the futbol season in BA is very long with a short break over the summer months. It seems like only yesterday Boca played their final game against Lanus and I blogged about being scared to attend. Sunday, I had my day.

After completing a few errands around town, I headed to Mason´s a pool party. Enjoying the high-rise roof-top sun we enjoyed a couple of beers and skyline view. Around six I headed to meet a couple folks and proceed to a home game at La Bombonera. Getting to ticket office about and hour before kick-off wasn´t our best effort. The only tickets remaining where outrageous, so we resorted to the fella in the parking lot.

One shady transaction later (100% mark-up) and a question about bottom-deck dealing we had our tickets. To this minute I am still not sure they were real. No matter, we gained our entrance to the game. As we hovered around the stairs leading down into the popular section, we realize there was nowhere to sit. Going down to the lower level, we rounded the front of the stands and eventually had front row seats just behind the goal.

Now, in any other stadium this would have been a great thing, but not when the visiting teams fan headquarters is directly above. We soon realized why it was so easy to obtain seats. On a clear night, it was still raining. Lugis were the armament of choice. About halfway through the second half I found a nice one right in the palm of my hand. It was big and really juicy...gross! Using the only paper I had in my bathing-suit pocket (my ticket stub souvenir) I srapped away the remnants.

As the game came to a close, our section was kept behind for about 10-15 minutes to prevent post-game agression. The entire stadium emptied and soon we were let free. In all seriousness, it was a great experience. The people hanging off the fence in front of us singing chant after chant was incredible. The entire stadium moving in unison to the same drum beat, jumping up and down as if the game were to decide the fate of the earth. Absolutely incredible.

We rounded out the day with a lomo (or bife de chorizo) and then couple of beers at La Puerta Roja. A great capstone afternoon for my last day in BA. The videos on the left have been up for a while, but they show what a high profile game is like at La Bombonera.

P.s...

2008-02-12T13:15:00.000-08:00

If you attempted to load the videos a second ago, I am sorry, but apparently in my attempt to get the tags right, it was pulling videos from YouTube that were a little provacative and not at all the band...woops!

La Bomba de Tiempo (Konex), Buenas Aires, Argentina

2008-02-12T13:00:00.000-08:00

Another one of the good óle tidbits from BA nightlife. While, I think I am the only one in BA who hadn´t been to this show before, I figured it was worthy of a blog post. Around 8:00 p.m. they take the stage and put on a great performance of rythmic percusion highlighted by a special instrument of the night. In my case, I was graced with a trumpet. It reminded me of those awkward days in middle school, fighting for first chair. Still a little frustrated I never attained band fame, this was a nice consolation prize.

The show went on for about two hours and consisted of a rowdy crowd of locals and expats all drumming to different beats. If you were interested in a specific riff or just like to spark a spliff, this was the place for you. Every Monday night they perform under the stars, or, well, night sky. It is a little hard to get a glimse of the heavens when you are surronded by BA street lights. Either way, being outdoors in the shadow of a warehouse, lit only by the faint glare of neon, you really have a great atmosphere to watch the show. It is a definate reccomendation for anyone traveling to BA. I can think of alot less things to do for ten pesos. Note the new video bar on the left pulling videos from YouTube of the show.

http://labombadetiempo.blogspot.com/

National Geographic Endeavor, Antarctica

2008-02-06T12:41:00.000-08:00

So, here it is! The gift of a lifetime, given to me by my grandmother, who shares my passion for travel. A little more than a decade ago, she showed me what it was to see things from a different perspective, to understand how complex this world really is. For this, I have always been thankful. It has been the basis for many great conversations, but more importantly a driving motivation for me to cherish the days I have and understand the complexities of myself.

With boarding pass in hand, I was off to see a place far less than one percent of the world will ever have the chance. A place reasonably devoid of human interaction and isolated from the complexities we bring. Aside from a few tourist ships and various research posts, this is a place that takes you back in time. A destination not of place but time, when things were based on simple interactions for survival.

The trip was arranged by National Geographic/Linblad Expeditions. With a berth of only 100 passengers, the ship came complete with a handful of well-versed naturalists, an undersea specialist, many zodiacs for landings, the Oceanities Research Team, and a crew full of characters - the bartender topping the list. The food was of the finest fare, and for a fella just off the backpackers circuit (beard and all), this was an exceptional leap forward in my travel.

I have thought for several days how best to present this amazing trip. After a couple of attempts to put it in words, I found I don´t have the words that adequately describe it. We can just say, it was the most amazing place I have ever been and I hope it stays that way. While I would like the rest of the world to see it, I truthfully don´t. We will mess it up somehow! In the interest of space and time, I will just submit to you my photos. I appologize for the Picasa Web Album of almost 350 (recently revised) pictures, but when you spend 12 days at sea with such unique creatures, both people and animals (ha) it is easy to get carried away.

Tierra del Fuego, Ushuaia, Argentina

2008-02-06T12:40:00.000-08:00

After a long day of killing time in El Calafate, I finally boarded a bus around 3:00 a.m. and headed to Rio Gallegos. A quick transfer and a cup of coffee with Allison and Paul and I was off riding semi-cama. Four border crossings, a ferry ride across the Straights of Magellan, and seventeen hours later I finally arrived in Ushuaia. While it sounds like a miserable day, it was quite the topography lesson. From the sheep stations of El Calafate to the coastal oil fields of the Santa Cruz province and finally through the snow capped peaks of Tierra del Fuego, I believe that I saw everything the southern Patagonia had to offer. Dipping into little towns like Rio Grande and Tolhuin showed there is a grinding economy in these parts after all. Albiet pertroleum and fish are the mainstays, it was nice to see a little grime.

Absolutely beat from the previous day of killing time, I grabbed a quick dinner, checked in to Antarctica Hostel. The next morning at the hostel, I bumped into Allison from the bus station. We quickly made plans to take advantage of the afternoon and set out for a day hike around Parque Nacional Tierra del Fuego. We were graced with 75 degrees farenheight, cloudless skies, and calm winds. Meadows of rabbits munching grass made for an easy afternoon.

On the way back, Allison was getting tired and wanted to head back to the hostel. I had made plans with Paul to grab a pint and talk of his extensive travels. A journalist for the Jerusalem Post, Paul has many stories and tales from the road. He even publishes a column called, ¨Tales from the Wandering Jew." I have never seen a passport quite as complete in my life. It didn´t take much convincing to lure Allison to join us when the park transport convientely dropped us off a block from the bar...ha! A great conversation, a couple of beers, and a bootlegged pint of whisky, we ended the night. But not before forgetting to pay the bar tab...woops! Don´t worry, inevitably there was another night and we made good on our debts. The night concluded with burnt empanadas and avacodo and salami sandwiches.

The next day, I was up early to complete a laundy list of errands. After tackling one and grabbing a quick dinner, Justine (new friend from the hostel) and I decided to go meet Allison and Paul for another evening of beers, this time without whisky. One last fun evening in Ushuaia left me seriously behind the eightball. Priorities now aligning themselves with no help from me, I set off to round up the last remaining details before embarkation. Embarkation, you say?

El Chalten - Parque Nacional Los Glaciers

2008-01-21T06:38:00.000-08:00

Right place at the right time. It was my first experience at seeing a town before it is a city. The streets are dirt, buildings are spotty and there are no ATM´s. Internet is all satellite based and services are limited to restuarants and hostels. You can camp for free in the middle of town and to see the peaks all you have to do is look up. The river is clean enough to drink and the people are friendly. For those who are familiar with the movie Joe Dirt, this is Silvertown of Argentina. Much less traveled than Parque Nacional Torres del Paine, this was a great place to chill for five days.

Day 1

Arrived via bus from El Calafate. Prepared provisions and because of the perfect weather, headed into the woods immediately. Amazed once again at how lucky we have been, we watched the sun set behid Cerro Fitz Roy and were absolutely stunned. It was so beautiful that Chris almost cried.

Day 2

Blessed once again, we awoke at 5:30 a.m to Toff saying ït is perfect, we have to go now.¨ Stapping on headlamps and grabbing our sleeping bags and pads we charged up hill for an hour to catch sunrise at the base of Cerro Fitz Roy. Matt, the professional photographer said it best, ¨This is F@&%ing gold!" We ended up drinking hot chocolate and sleeping at the base of the tower for about three hours before heading back to camp for a lazy afternoon.

Day 3

A couple of day hikes revealed beautiful glaciers, amazing glacial carved valley´s and a little rock scrambling. We returned to camp around the same time and huddled around ¨the trough¨with a little mate. Just about right!

Day 4

A seemingly easy trek took us most of the day to accomplish. Distractions such as a beautiful smooth stone beach, leeches, and just taking in another beautiful day landed up at Cerro Torre around five o´clock and back in town aound eight. Dinner at Fuegia (killer trout) and a couple of artesanal brews capped a great trip.

Day 5

Chill day with Chris and Toff! Again, the place will always be there, but the people will not. It´s clearly the relationships you make along the journey that are important. They can make or break a destination. I had been traveling with Chris and Toff for almost three weeks now. They really made the trip what it was.

Day 6

Took a bus to Calafate while Chris and Toff sat out to hitch north and meet Mark, ultimatly ending in Peru. Ironically, when I arrived in El Calafate, they were waiting for me at the bus station. Good times!

Perito Moreno, El Calafate, Argentina

2008-01-21T06:37:00.000-08:00

A big glacier that caves alot. Have no fear! It apparently is the only glacier in the world that is actually advancing. Boldly laughing in the face of global warming...you go glacier.

Torres Del Paine, Puerto Natales, Chile

2008-01-21T06:30:00.000-08:00

Day 1

Leaving the hostel at 7:30 a.m. we boarded a bus to Parque Nacional Torres del Paine. One of the largest and most visited national park on the continent. A quick switchback to grab the tickets was completed and we were on our way again. Two and a half hours later we arrived to find the Torres completely visible and not a cloud in the sky. I cannot begin to explain how lucky we were.

After quick decision by Toff and Jason, we charged up the three hour trail will full packs (22-24 kilos) to Campamento Torres. A quick staking of space, we were off to complete the additional hour ascent to the viewing area. The pictures should explain the towers better than my words. Sorry for the overkill, but the towers were that impresive.

We returned that evening to camp and fixed and absolute feast. At the time we innocently called our meal the trough. What we didn´t realize is that monaquer would stick for the next three weeks as we continued to grub in traditional porker fashion.

Day 2

Campament Torres to Camping Seron. Again, we were extremely lucky with the weather. This was one of my favorite walks of the entire eight days. It reminded me of the scene from Gladiator where he as ascending to heaven walking through waist high wheat and flowers. The entire second half of walk was through valley vields of blooming daisy´s. An endless sheet of white shadowed by jagged snow-capped peaks seperated by slow moving streams under a crystal blue sky. Vasili introduced a little Russian Tradition (a flask) when we stopped and setup camp under a beautiful mountain backlit by the setting sun. As were were settling in a little fox was snooping around looking for scraps.

Day 3

Camping Seron to Refugio Dickson. A good walk with a little seperation that gave everyone a little time of their own. It is amazing how clear your thoughts can be when your only objective is to move you feet. Something so mindless and second nature, without distractions. This is what travel is about. Time of self-reflection and building relationships. Looking at others to find your own faults, but also to isolate your motivations. Sorry that was a little deep, but that is what this day was for me. Just about perfect!

Day 4

Hump Day! Dickson to Campament Paso. Packs were still a little heavy but we got agressive. Eleven hours later through multiple acents, weather conditions, and mental obsticles we arrived. We began with a 4.5 hour trek in steady rain. After a short view of Los Perro Glacier and a hot lunch under a shelter we decided to charge the pass. Probably the most uncertain and gruelling of the senderos, Toff motivated the group.

The first hour consisted of bogs and mud. The second hour into the trek with alreadt wet feet the snow began to fall. A incredible backdrop against the jagged peaks and the barren rock slops we were traversing. Initialy it was windy and the snow wasn´t sticking, but that was shortlived. About halfway of the Paso it was an all out snowstop with accumulation on the ground and even out clothes. The wind was howeling and the temperature was quite cold. Relentless we kept moving...no breaks. If we stopped the sweat chilled us immediately. Weary, at the height of the storm when we were closing in on the top of the pass just, Toff summed it up. He said, "This is why we are alive, mate!" At that moment I don´t think anyone could have agreeed more. It was the moment of uncertainty and the physical strain against nature that was a testament to our hike. I loved it!

At the top of the pass the snow eased, the clouds eventually parted and lifted to reveal a incredible view of Glacier Grey. It was the closest I have ever come to fallilng in love with an inanimate object. Although it was our first date, I wanted to give the Glacier a big kiss. It was our sweet reward of a hike well done. The next two hours consisted of watching the sun dip behind distant snow-capped ranges illuminating the glacier. Slidding down muddy slopes we eventually arrived in camp and yep, Russian Tradition was had by all.

Day 5

Campamento Paso to Refugio Grey - still no showers. We were a funky group of individuals, but loving every minute of it. After the big day before we decided to sleep in and realax around camp till about two o´clock. A short walk to a nice grassy field, we setup camp and chilled. At this point, I untintentionally decided I needed to wax my leg hair. Earlier in the day, I had a little pain in my knee (i am getting old) and Toff applied a little wilderness medicine - taping my knee cap in place. Without pre-wrap I realized this was going to hurt worse than just the soar knee. That night after a couple tugs and grateful thank-you´s being yelled across camp to Toff, Vasili (me tent mate) gave me some scissors as a work-around.

Day 6

Refugio Grey to Campamento Italiano. Today, my kee finally told me to stop hiking. Hobbling down the trail and a little conference with others I had the option to take a ferry out of the park and back to Puerto Natales. Knowing that I had come this far and I admit to be a little stubborn, this wasn´t an option. Plus the encouragement from my trekking partners, we were going to finish the trail. We continued the easiest trail in the park and Toff and I talked investments (the best medicine because it kept my mind off my knee). Vasili was highly amused, but not as much when I tried to sleep walk in my tent. Well, not actually walk but run with my feet directly pointed in the air. I even woke myself up and had to laugh.

Day 7

A chill day for me and my knee, everyone else went to Valley Frances. I held down the fort and played was seems to be an infinite number of games of solitare, not winning one. A great dinner and we were enegized for the next day. My intent was to hick back the way we came and take a boat while the other took the 6.5 route of uncertain terrain to where we began the trek.

Day 8

Walk-Out! After seven days with my trekking partners, I have noticed the one thing that binds people together more than anything is kindness. A seemingly rag-tag group that functioned so well together had to have some glue. That glue is kindness. When someone takes you into consideration before themself, you want to do the same for others. Whether sharing food or helping someone find their way, kindness is an amazing catalyst. As we saddled up to depart, myself in a different direction, Toff offered to carry my pack. A little uncetain and feeling guilty, I honestly wanted to walk out and complete the trail. It made all the difference. We combined two packs in one and Toff was now carring a pack with the same weight of Day 1. He gave me his day pack and a head start and I hobbled up the trail of uncertainties. Watching the sunrise over a glaciel blue lake and appearing to walk beneath rainbows, we arrived an hour early to catch the bus. I arrived with a new understanding of people.

Puerto Natales, Chile

2008-01-04T09:14:00.000-08:00

Parting from the boat was sweet sorrow. Knowing what lay ahead was truly exciting, but leaving the comforts of the ship was a little sad. Two nights in town, we planned our hike, bought groceries, uploaded photos, etc. Puerto Natales isn´t much more of a sheet metal depository. After attending an information session at Erratic Rock, our group was set on eight to hike the Circuito Grande en Parque Nacional Torres del Paine. I admit, besides sheep Puerto Natales doesn´t have much to offer, but the people were some of the nicest I have met.

Navimag, Puerto Montt, Chile

2008-01-04T09:12:00.000-08:00

After my night with howling dogs and roosters crowing at dawn, I packed my things and headed to the port to catch my Ferry. Navimag, the Chilean ferry company was obviously very popular. A little concerned because I traveled to Puerto Montt on little more than faith that my reservation would be confirmed. Stopping off at an internet cafe just shy of port, the only email I had received said ¨due to increased holiday traffic the processing of reservations is taking a little longer than expected. " Someone will call you shortly. Mind you, this is approximately 6 hours before the boat departs and I don´t have a phone. All was well when I spoke with the lady from Navimag and actually the mistake was mine. I tranposed a credit card number...woops! So, I was set to spend New Years at sea. A first for me, but I think that is how New Year should be. A New Year and a new experience to start things off on the right foot.

In the waiting room (a large garage filled with old bus seats) I met a couple of interesting folks. Christain, a mathmatics professor at Columbia, on winter break, and Toff from Austrailia. After a few minutes speaking with Toff, we both realized we had similar schedules and plans. Around 5:00 p.m. we boarded the boat and were expecting to leave port around seven o´clock which ended up being around 9, but hey, it was New Year...no tengo prisa.

The night consisted of everyone´s bootlegged alcohol that had been smuggled in backpacks, a little singing (a complete Grease reinactment), a little dancing , and a look at the southern stars as we welcomed the New Year. A definate success! The following day, everyone was up early (I am not lying) to scaff breakfast and check the sights. Rain and low clouds obtructed our view for the first couple days, but eventually cleared to reveal beautiful fjords, glaciers, and the ocassional dolphin riding the boats wake.

After three nights and four days at sea we had accomplished alot. Met a ton of new people, established a group to hike the circuit at Torres del Paine, played more card games than I could possibly remember, a brilliant game of sharads, two games of mafia (where I was axed first each game...I was hoping that wasn´t a sign to come), took countless photos.

Puerto Montt, Chile

2008-01-04T09:04:00.000-08:00

After a wonderful week in Bariloche including Christmas with new friends and some great hiking, I decided to continue my trip south. A last minute decision, and a little Christmas money from "the rents" persuaded me to hop a converted cargo ferry that carriers passengers and cruise the straights off the Chilean coast.

With a tentative CCC class berth , I took a 6 hour bus ride from Bariloche across the Chilean boarder to Puerto Montt. A bustling little town of recent wealth, I only had a day to explore. Getting into town, the rain was pouring down and I didn´t have a hostel. A quick glance at Lonley Planet and a couple of blocks later I arrived at what appeared to be a rectory. The guide said it was the slightest bit shabby, but I was thinking cheap. Shabby is generally cheap. The guide couldn´t have been more correct when it said it could be confused as a rectory. Oh well, I was a place to catch some ZZZ´s.

Cerro Catedral, Bariloche, Argentina

2007-12-27T04:15:00.001-08:00

Today could have been one of the most frustrating hikes I have ever had. It was put best by Mike (London) when he said ¨This is the closest I have been to hell. If this is what enternal damnation is like, I want no part of it...I am hot, thristy, tired, need to take a poo and am litterly being eaten alive by large flies. The end of the trail is no-where in sight, I might as well give-in."

It began with an hour wait at the bus-stop before being told busses only pick-up at this stop every other hour. So, we were off a little late, but we were advised by many other travelers we had time to complete the hike. Arriving at Villa Catedral a little frustrated, we decided to begin the climb. While one option was to take the chair-lift to the top and then meet another trail, we opted for the four hour hike-in; ambitious, not in the least.

A short distance later we noticed the large swarming bugs. I still cannot pronounce the name, but my South African friend Lenoi referred to them at terrorists. It is quite possibly the best desription . These things were out to maliciously harm others. They were about the size of a nickle and were about 40% hypodermic needle-nose. These things could bite through clothes and would not stop until they either had blood or were dead. Absolutely insane! We had all types of theories to prevent attacks, but all seemed to result in us looking even more ridiculous. Just imagine a group of induviduals standing in the road, walking in circles, waiving their hands in the air, screaming curse words, and moving their lower extremities in very irradic kicking motions. I believe passing motorists were highly amused.

Despite the negative tone of this post, the hike was absolutely beautiful. At the top there is a snow feed lake and amazing peaks. If you are ever in Argentina, this is a definite reccomendation. Another good day-hike was Refugio Jorge Lopez, which we did on Christmas Eve. About four hours up and back it has some really great views. Both hikes are in Picasa Web Albums.

The Flying Dutchmen

2007-12-27T04:11:00.000-08:00

Tonight we had a big group dinner hosted by the Dutchmen. Ten peos bought you a pasta and wine dinner. While the pasta was good, and the wine better (selected by a Dutch wine representative working in Mendoza), the entertainment was the kicker. Again, Two Unilimted was well recognized, but the imitations of Tony Montana from Scarface were piss-your-pants material.

Navidad en la Playa, Bariloche, Argentina

2007-12-25T17:42:00.002-08:00

Christmas day was just about right! Everyone slept until the Greenhouse Effect was just too horrible to withstand any longer. A little explanation? Ok. So there is a dorm type room with six bunk-beds. In the morning the sun rises on the east side of the building, which our room faces. About 5:30 there are six bodies all producing their own heat and by 8:00 a.m. the room is a virtual sauna. During the night the temperature is pleasant, but Bariloche heats up quick during the summer.

A quick breakfast and I made the executive decision that nothing athletic would be accomplished on Christmas Day. In fact, the night before made the decision for most of us that nothing intellectual would be accomplished either. We came to the conclusion it was a perfect afternoon to spend on the "rock beach." The pictures in Picasa Web Albums pretty much sums up the afternoon. In the words of the Irish, "It was brilliant."

Penthouse 1004 Christmas Party, Bariloche, Argentina

2007-12-25T17:42:00.001-08:00

After spending two days in the hostel and realizing that I had picked a great place, things went to another level. The hostel Christmas party was a pot-luck with about 48 different people participating. As you can imagine, a hostel full of international travelers brought an incredible variety of dishes from all over the world. I don´t know exactly, but I am sure there were more than ten different nationalities present.

The evening began with cocktails on the terrace watching the sunset on Christmas Eve. Around ten o´clock we all came inside to the common areas and the mayhem began. Each table had a couple dishes. It was a serve youself/mingle-mingle-the-table setting. It was great! I sat with a table full of Dutchmen and two couples from Montana. As the evening progressed, the Dutchmen entertained with Kareoke. We came to the conclusion that Two Unlimited is the greatest rock band in the history of Dutch rock music.

You might be wondering what my contribution was for the party. I went "Dutch" on a dish of chili with an Irishman and a girl from New Zealand. We had returned very late from a hike to Refrugio Jorge Lopez and were putting things together at the last minute. I thought the chili was good, but everyone kept asking if it was Irish stew. Oh well, I thought we made a good attempt. As the hours passed a little dancing ensured and then some card games.

San Carlos de Bariloche (Bariloche), Argentina

2007-12-25T17:41:00.001-08:00

Taking a coche cama class bus from Buenas Aires, I arrived a full 18 hours later in San Carlos de Bariloche, or Bariloche Argentina. The ride was senic, but rather dull until a couple of hours outside of Bariloche. It is amazing how vast the pampas really is in Argentina. I understand why cattle are so abundant - they have so much grassland. In general, I enjoyed the journey while sipping champagne (gratis), eating decent cuisine, and watching Will Smith in "The Pursuit of Happyness." If you are a fan, I am sorry, but I was asleep shortly the second time he lost his scanner.

Bariloche is a tourist town with a huge influx of Europeans, especially the Suiss. Before this trip, I have only met a couple of Suiss people in my lifetime, but the first night in the hostel I had three Swiss roomates. For a country of only 6.5 millon they really seem to travel well. The hostel is great with incredible views (http://www.lamoradahostel.com/ - just in case). Check out Picasa Web Albums. Overall, the city is incredibly well-kept compared to BsAs and certainly much quieter. Of all the backpackers I have met, they all say the same thing. BaAs is just so loud.

San Telmo (La Brigada), Buenas Aires, Argentina

2007-12-22T04:09:00.000-08:00

Speaking of wine, not really, but last night we went to a great restuarant. The wine (Trapiche Malbec 2005), approximately 65 pesos per bottle, or 20 dollas us was outstanding. I realize that I do not have the pallate of a Master Sommelier, or a dog from the street, but I could relate with this bottle. My roomate, former wine snob, once said ¨nobody gives a crap what you say it tastes like, as long as you like the taste, that is all that matters." Unlike others that I have tried, I did not taste bubble gum bbq sauce, but I thought it was good. B-Harp, help me out and do a little research...definately no Clarendon Hills, but notable!

After dinner, the Aussies, the Brits, and a couple of Americans traveled to ól faithful, La Puerta Roja. Cheap mixed drinks and Budweiser draft make for a great last night in the city. I actually felt a little triste about leaving thie city, pero no se porque? I realized that it´s rarely the place that is so attractive to the traveler , but acually the relationships formed while there. It can make or break a destination. Mark told me it is the Travelers Curse. Relationships are built around the convienence of the situation. Intentions are true, but efforts to maintain what was built are often forgotten.

Ibero Spanish School, Buenas Aires, Agentina

2007-12-22T03:59:00.000-08:00

So, I have finally completed my course of study. I must admit it was more difficult than anticipated, but can confidently say, I learned a insane amount of Spanish in my eight weeks of classes. The real test came when I was playing a Dutch drinking game in Spanish (with some native speakers). I lost the game, but at least I understood that I lost...ha!

Although very grammer intensive, the teachers and environment were condusive for learning both Spanish and the city. My teachers were insistant that I practice as much as possible and gave me opportunities to hone my skills, but I must admit at times I was overcome with distractions (thus "el perro comio la tarea"). I will admit that the privada classes are prefered because you have the flexibility to study areas in which you are weak. For me, it is still conjugations and the uses of the subjunctive. Guillermina, I promise I am trying to practice using the subjunctive.

Hola Matthias, Chau Casey - Museo

2007-12-20T06:55:00.000-08:00

Things continue to move forward here. Matthias is back in town for a couple of days and Casey leaves today. Last night we started the evening with a couple of cervezas en la casa, then moved on to a club called Museo. The cab ride there was probably one of the most interesting events of the evening. Matias, Patricia, and myself were really suprised as it progressed.

We were driving down the road when the taxista saw a young girl ridding her bike in the street (it was approx 11:00 p.m) with no reflectors and reasonably dark clothing. When he pulled up beside her to tell her to get off the road, she paniced and slammed into a parked car. I am sorry to say, we did not stop (I can{t believe it!). At the next stop light our taxista complained to the police that the girl was ridding her bike in the road and they didnt seem to care. All the while, we had encroached into the pedestrian walkway where a preganant woman was pushing another child in the stoller. She decided to let our taxista have an earful because we were blocking here way. Mind you, all these events took place in about 30 seconds. We then got an earful about how not all taxistas are bad people because not all taxistas give fake bills. All this in only eight blocks..it was a deal for our eight pesos.

Arriving at the club, I wasnt sure my attire was suttable, but we worked it out. Sandals apparently are not kosher in some establishments - now I understand why. All drinks were served in glass bottles and actual glasses. When you have that many people in one place with so few trash cans, it is a disaster area. Absolutely packed with people, we danced for a couple of hours, then decided it was too hot so we returned home to complete homework, pluck glass out of my feet, etc.

Alfie - Fiesta de Navidad

2007-12-19T09:57:00.000-08:00

I must admit that today was the Christmas Party for approximately 2000 ninos, but I did not make it. I had all intentions of getting there with plenty of time to spare, but found that I had written down the wrong address. Instead of arriving to find thousands of screaming children, I found a desolate plain of tall grass and uncertainties. Thankfully, on the train to the outskirts I had engaged in conversation with the person sitting next to me. Obviously concerned for my well being she kept giving me very specific directions. A few minutes later I arrived at my stop and the young man sitting next to her was getting off as well. He offered to walk me the two blocks to the park and I am glad he did. The neighborhood where I arrived wasn´t in the least bit safe and Alfie said it was a bad idea that I was there. A short walk and conversation later, I had located the correct bus back to town, the nearest bus stop and the park in which I thought the party was being held. After entering the gate and walking through waist high grass, I became a little nervous because no-one else around. So in an effort of self preservation, I snapped a couple of photos for memory, removed the card from my camera (tucked it in my shoe) and made like a sheep and got the flock otta there.

Capalla del Senor (Don Salvino), Argentina

2007-12-16T15:43:00.000-08:00

Today, we visited a local estancia about an hour outside of BsAs. The horse back riding was pleasant for me because my horse was well-behaved. As for my friend from the states, it wasn´t the case. All I heard as I was riding by was, "El Caballo es my enojada," or the horse is very angry...ha. I guess you needed to be there.

We continued with a lunch of endless vino tinto, steak, salad, chicken, chorizo, and again the blood and guts sausage. And again, I did not go back for seconds of the last item. The entertainment consisted of a montage of various local dances, and the vocal renditions of a colorful guacho. One of our group members was ushered on stage to sing "Wandering Annie" (or something like that) in honor of her Austrailian heritage. I was dreading the moment where we would be picked to give the "ol college try"at an American favorite, but the moment never came. So here is the question: What song do you think would be a fan favorite to represent the EEUU in these situations? The reason I ask is that these spotlight performances are more common than not. For example, when we had to perform the Itsy Bitsy Spider for a group of folks in Ecuador over the summer (the Greenhouse Globetrotters know what I´m talking about). Eitherway, suggestions and lyrics would be appreciated.

The lunch concluded with my Austrailian friend and myself displaying a little of our Tango skills...an ever-so-slightly better experience. We then retreated to watch the gauchos perform some horse tricks and chill by the pool. Picasa Web Albums Feed.

Some Beach

2007-12-15T13:07:00.000-08:00

Petty theft strikes again! This time a little closer to home. Against all the better advice of my mother, "where nothing good ever happens after 12 oclock", I was crusing the town. Leaving Crobar after a night of celebrating the Applalachian´s victory, I hailed a cab from the corner. A cab quickly pulled up with the libre sign illuminated.

Two women, well at least they appeared to be women jumped out of the cab and charged towards me. I will spare the details, but lets just say it was a "Samwhich" for about 10 seconds. After finally shaking loose my arms and the various distractions, I headed back towards the club. Reaching for my phone, I realized it was gone, and so was the cab. Fortunately enough I still had cash for a cab and my camera (i really would have been ticked).

National Champions

2007-12-15T12:33:00.000-08:00

A little shout-out from BsAs, Argentina for my Mountaineers. A great game played and a clear-cut champion - above all the rest. We were able to watch the game in a local pub called El Alamo. At first we were stuck with an internet feed and watching the game on a 12" monitor. But after the early shift left, we found that one of the bartenders was a recent Delaware Alumni (great luck). It didn´t take long until he figured a way to route the feed to the 42" LCD hanging over the bar....we were set for the second half.

L.I.F.E - First Go´Round

2007-12-14T14:33:00.000-08:00

So, after much waiting in anticipation that my Spanish would drastically improve overnight, I finally decided it wasn´t going to happen. Yes, I am still studying and find I am learning alot, but it seemed to be more of an excuse than an obsticle from participating in the community.

A couple of weeks ago, my school (http://www.iberospanishschool.com.ar/) partnered with a local non-profit that does various service projects in Gran Buenas Aires (http://www.lifeargentina.org/). The cost is nominal to volunteers and the organization does a very good job or keeping things together. Next week, we are having a Christmas party for well over 1000 chilren. I know what you thinking, "did he mistaknenly add an extra zero...no."

Today, I was able to participate in one of these projects. Six of us traveled about an hour by train to the outskirts of BsAs to a remote location. The objective was to and help the young students with English, but as advise beforehand, simple interaction and fun seemed to be more important to everybody. We covered numbers and some colors, but just interacting was the best part. I will be sure to let you know how the party goes next week.

The kids loved playing with my camera. In one photo it might be a little obvious what I was trying to say...a universally understood "no" as my camera was entering a tug-a-war contest.
Check out the slideshow for the latest pictures from this event.

La Catedral - Milonga

2007-12-12T08:54:00.000-08:00

This past Tuesday (Martes) I went out with my new roomate Florian 2 from Austria. He is here to learn Tango and had heard of a good Milonga in the Amalgro barrio of BsAs. When we arrived the bouncer told us that it was 10 pesos to enter of if we wanted to take a class we could pay 15 and enter an hour early. We opted for the class, my first.

We decided a little "swing grease" would help make the best of this situation. After rounding the corner to a local restuarant, eating pollo con champignones y bife de lomo, and downing a litre of Stella, we were ready to tackle Tango. Unfortunately, by tackle, I mean my dancing resembled a rugby scrum on a soggy pitch.

It was ugly! I didn´t think a dance meant to be so elegant and sensual could actually be so awkward. I am sure it was more operator error than the design of the movements, especially when my partner decided to ¨sit one out...ha.¨

In Tango you have to keep your hips very stiff and only move your legs. You direct the woman with you hands, chest, and sometimes cheek. Apparently, my hips wanted to do the moving, but my feet couldn´t keep up. From the cheapseats I am sure this was absolutely hilarious. I was focusing so hard on my movements, that I was obvlious to where I was leading my parter, running her into chairs, other couples, and once the wall...ouch. I expect to give it another go soon, but for everybody involved I think private lessons would probably be better.

Presidential Inauguration (Christina Kirchner), Buenas Aires, Argentina

2007-12-12T08:53:00.000-08:00

This past Monday, around two o´clock the street were unusually quiet. People had gone home for the day, and the subte rides were free. Around 4:30, I was napping on the couch when I noticed the local news station was covering the arrival of the President Kirchner to the Capital. I had noticed extra security and baracades earler as I walked from class, but didn´t realize what the ocassion was. Grabbing my camera and heading out the door, I arrived shortly in Plaza de Mayo, cerca Casa Rosa.

I have never been to an inauguration in the states, but I somehow imagine this was a little different. The former president and the new elect (his wife) arrived in a car, windows down, waiving to everybody, followed only by a complete army of soilders on horseback. The plaza had been coverted to a large display of various political and social organizations. Fireworks, drumbeats, hunders of banners, and thousands of shouting people were there to display their joy and dismay with the recent elections.

Desnivel

2007-12-05T06:27:00.000-08:00

Bife de lomo (jugoso) con papas fritas provenzal, ensalada mixta, y chimichurri. This is the meal that I now associate with Buenas Aires. I thought the helado was something special, but that was before I paid a visit to Desnivel. A local parilla in the heart of the San Telmo antique markets, where you can find a fantastic steak at a fantastic price. Lines begin forming around 9´oclock and while you wait you can watch the knife weilding butcher/chef prepare the delights over an open charcoal fire. The meat is so good vegatarians turn into carnivores - I have witnessed this feat.

San Telmo, Buenas Aires, Argentina - 12/02/2007

2007-12-02T13:58:00.000-08:00

The day began after a long night of chillin´ at Milones, a really cool mansion-turned bar. Waking up around 11:00 I quickly pounded down an orange, some medialunas, and a couple cups of coffee, then Casey, Les, and myself were off to the game. The soccer season is winding down here and today was the last game of the season for the Boca Juniors.

Assuming the event was like any other, we packed our cameras and headed to a quick market in San Telmo before heading to the game. After catching a cab, then finding out the 100 spot we tried to pay with was counterfeit, we reached the stadium. A few conserned looks by the security gaurds did not prevent us from purchasing our tickets. Only again did we realize the bills were were using were counterfeit (received at the casa de cambia in the airport, or so we thought).

Since we had approximately 3 hours before the game began we asked the security guard where a good tourist area was. He very quickly said that we should not go there because we would be robbed. There was no maybe in his answer. It was certain we would be robbed. Now, I had heard La Boca was a little on the rough side, but I never expected certaintities. He then pointed us in the direction of a local restuarant and we left to get some lunch.

Upon arriving we had a pretty interesting waiter. You could tell he had probably been there for the past 10 years and knew our type, but more importantly our apparently inevitable fate. When we told him that we were going to the game he was quick to say we were insane. He pointed out that they have a machine that only lets bad people into the stadium. Taking this for what it was worth I began to have to uneasy feeling about our plans. It was almost like the security guard pointed us towards the waiter for a second opinion.

A few minutes later, the waiter told another family in the restuarant what we were going to do, and seriously, they looked at us like we had a death wish. The final straw was when a gentleman across the restuarant asked generally towards us and another table of europeans if we had hired security to take us to the game. There was no joking and he could not have been more serious. The random gentleman also said if you parked your car a couple blocks from the stadium, you would be robbed. I have never been that good at odds, but these didn´t seem good.

The Europeans were not fazed and marched out the door wielding new digital camers and distintly fancy sunglasses. We then decided to abandon our plans and get the ____ out of dodge. I am willing to chalk it up as a loss and have written off the five bucks.

We continued the afternoon in Recoleta, seeing the grave of Evita, eating helado, and finding more of our money that was counterfiet. We suspect the same cab driver that spotted the first counterfeit note, also gave us smaller counterfeit notes as change when we paid...shady. Only a day later did I realize that it is possible the shady cab driver might have switched our good 100 for a bad one before handing it back. All told, I think we were probably taken for around 140 pesos. Divide by three to get the figure in dollars.

Palermo Viejo (Congo), Buenas Aires, Argentina

2007-12-01T09:41:00.000-08:00

Last Friday night about 10 of us went to Gardelito´s for dinner. Once again, I was amazed at the group of people that shared a couple bottles of wine and discussion. There were eight Americans and two Eglishmen (persons). We had two entrepreneurs, a professional poker player, a couple of students, an equity researcher, a Harvard trained attorney, and an economist/journalist with a Oxford background. Needless to say, the coversation never came to a lull. We covered the recent economic colapse of Argentina, and recent legal cases arrising out of "Vulture Debt." As the night went on, we migrated to a bar called Congo. It was massive with a large outdoor terrace/garden. Quite popular with the expats.

Opening Albums

2007-11-29T09:01:00.000-08:00

Just a quick update. I realized that if you attempt to open the Picasa Web Albums links (or any other links) in the column on the left, you will navigate away from the website. After messing around with the template, also realize I do not have the experience, nor to I believe it´s possible to edit the tempate I used to open these links in new windows.

The only solution I found was to use the HTML/Javascript Editor and create my own links to albums (which is time consuming). So as a solution, I added the New Album slideshow widget that is linked to the most current photo album. You can watch the slideshow or click on the slideshow and it will open a new window in Picasa. There you can view the slideshow in a bigger frame or look at each photo individually. If anyone has any experience using Blogger XML templates, please let me know.

Holla Back Appstate

2007-11-25T16:06:00.001-08:00

Having been completely out of the College Football loop, but I finally got a little intel this past Friday night. After arriving at a little house party, I was talking with a couple kids from the states. Turns out, they were from Charleston, SC and one of they guys went to Duke. The other, coicidently went to...you guessed it, Appalachian State. We must have reminisced for about 30 minuntes including, but not limited to the debauchery at Murphy´s, and the musical likes of...yep, Possum Jenkins (ya´ll are world renowned). Brewer, I will keep the "Propaganda Machine" running on the Argentianian front.

I was also pleased to find out that Appalchian is currently numero uno in the SOCON and is playing very well. Moreover, I was told there is a little sports pub in town called, "The Alamo" that has a college footbal satellite package with every game. So, I am giving a shoutout to my Mountaineers in hopes they will continue to be victorous. I would love to watch the championship game here, in BA before I leave for Bariloche. Below is a little Appalachian Pride, just click. Go Apps!!!

http://www.alumni.appstate.edu/Media/Fightsong.mp3

San Isidro - No Hablo Ingles

2007-11-25T15:33:00.000-08:00

Today, Lescianes and I took the train north of the city and followed Rio del Plate. We left with the intent to see some classical music in Catedral de San Isidro, but found the Iglesia was under construction. Adjoining the church was a very nice market and numero street acts. The town is very small and full of cobbled stone streets - somewhat touristy, but definately a good day trip from BA.

The reason for this post is not so much about trip, but in fact, this was my first complete day where absolutely no English was spoken. I am regularly surronded by people who speak English, but Lescianes speaks Portugese and doesn{t speak any English. So, in an attempt to socialize in some manner, I bowed up and am happy to say the day was of reasonable success. Don´t get me wrong there was pleny of, "No entiendo" faces, but more times than not I got my point across.

Easy Come, Easy Go

2007-11-25T15:22:00.000-08:00

I am now working my way through roomates number five and six. As Flo put it, "you are outlasting everybody." I guess that is good and bad. I stay and others come and go. Flo left today to head back to Germany, Julia left about two weeks ago, and Mattias left approximately three weeks ago. Julia is currently traveling through northern Argentina and returning to BA in a couple of days. Then I think she is off to Santiago, Chile and Valparaiso.

In the meantime, Locida has come and gone. She was just passing through on her way to Peru and Bolivia. Lescianes, from Brazil moved in today and she will be here for a couple weeks. Tomorrow we get another person from the states. I suspect before my stint in BA is done I will have had approximately eight or nine "companeros." It´s like a hostel, but with the comforts of home.

Happy Thanksgiving

2007-11-23T13:33:00.000-08:00

For the longest time, I have referred to Thanksgiving as Turkey Day. It was always more about the feast-nap, than the reasons we should be thankful. The holiday has always been more habitual than ritual. I am blaming it on the overwhelming "symbology" or sex-appeal of the turkey. I mean really...how could you not want to eat one?

Well, this was my first Thanksgiving without a Turkey. So by force, I can no longer refer to this holidy for the beloved bird. Instead, I was reminded of the true meaning for all the cheer. Its more about the time you get to spend with family and friends and to acknowledge those many blessings you have, rather than the smorgis-borg of fixins. Maybe I am opening up a bigger can of worws about the commercialization of holidays in general, but I am not here to discuss the evils of Halmark.

I am thankful that I was able to celebrate it with fellow Americans, Canadians, and Argentians who wanted to celebrate the tradition. Chicken stirfry, salad, and mashed potatoes adorned the festivities and all was well. While I do miss the nostalgia of a traditional feast, I was reminded of the reason for the celebration in the first place.

So, in an effort to continue the traditions here in Argentina, I would like to say that I am thankful. Thankful for my supportive family in NC. Thankful for the opportunity to travel and do things on my terms. Thankful for the many blessings that I often overlook in my own life.

Salud

Freddo vs. Gelato

2007-11-19T08:48:00.000-08:00

"Listen up...I have a fantastic suggestion for you. Alfio and I were just arguing over wether (don't know how to spell that word) or not the ice cream is better in Italy or in Argentina. He swears the Argentenian ice cream is better....so I'm leaving it up to you to take the test. You have to go to an ice cream shop called Freddo. They are located all over the city apparently. Get a cone of Dulce de Leche Granizado and tell me what you think. If you like chocolate, ask for it to be Banado en chocolate. (There is supposed to be one of those squiggly things over the "n", but I'm not sure how to do that on this damn american keyboard)."

The above was written by my /Italian/American/German/Chocoholic friend Mariangela. Now, generally when she tells me to do someting I scoff, give her crap and eventually do it.. But, when she talks about ice cream, or gelato, I listen right away.

This past Sunday, while waiting to catch a bus, cab, or passing rixshaw, none were to be found because of a concert. So after hiking about 10 blocks up-hill to the Subte station, only to find it was closed because they were filming an episode of Fear Factor (is that show still around?), I was defeated. Approximately a two hour walk from home, I was supremely pissed and tired because I had been walking for the previous 8 hours.

Then, in my moment of dispare came a glimmering light. It was no apperition or mirage, but in fact, it was the refuge I had been searching for. Across the street was a Freddo shop. Darting through traffic and fumbling my Spanish I was almost home. Watching them tenderly prepare my Dulche de Leche Granizado, my mouth began to water. Once I had the cone in my possession, it was all over. Accompanying pictures should aptly describe my emotions.

Mary, to answer your question, Argentianin ice cream is unbelievable. I actually think they might have one-upped Italian Gelato. So there is your definitive analysis. The links are below for your own research.

http://www.freddo.com.ar/

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gelato

Fernandez Fierro - Tango Orchestra

2007-11-15T07:39:00.000-08:00

This past Wednesday night, I finally got to see some of BA that I have been waiting for. Myself, Viki, Julia, Flo, and one of Viki friends started the evening with a bottle of wine at Viki apartment. Around 11 we left and went to a local club in Palermo. Playing that night, was a band called Fernandez Fierro. They band consisted of just about a full orchestra with four accordian players, four violinists, a chelist, stand up base, piano player, and a vocalist.

We arrived to a converted warehouse, with cira 1940s tin roof shaped like those of barracks on old military bases. The floor was concrete, and the walls a crude stucco that was painted. The stage props included a large roll of toilet paper, and toilet paper drapped between each of the band members seats. You might have thought it as a pre show prank. After getting another bottle of wine and several empanadas we setup camp in the back on the floor.

Soon the band began to play and we were promply joined by the house cat. No, this was not you local stool pigeon, but a actual feline. A few minutes into the show, the floor cleared infront of us and a couple began to tango. After being mesmerized by the movement of their feet for an hour, or possibly being sedated by the growing cloud of smoke surrounding us, we decided to stand up just in time for the encore.

Between songs the lead singer decided to throw a couple of cds into the audience. Standing their with my jacket in one hand and my camera in the other, I was completely unprepared to catch a copy. A couple of piroets ?sp? and a flick of the wrist and the lead singer had superbly placed a copy of their lastest cd between my ankles. Having underestimated the demand for said album, I lazily bent over to pick it up. When out of nowhere, I was malled by a pack of screaming girls.

After a few minutes of wrangling my belongings and scampering from the pile I stood up to notice the entire club observing the spectacle. But it wasnt over. Two of the girls were rolling around on the ground in traditional "cat fight" manner. Eventually, one was the victor and earned herself a now unwrapped and slightly scuffed copy of Fernandez Fierro.

In all, it was one of the best experiences I have had on this trip to date. It was off the beaten path and an experience that truly showed me a side of BA that is incredibly cool. Completely amazed at the artistic abilities of the band, I really cant describe the music in words. The best I could do was post about the atmosphere. So...

I found a couple of videos on YouTube. Just click one of the videos to the right and it should open up a player directly in the browser. Also, below for reference is their website link... http://www.fernandezfierro.com/caff/

Creamfields

2007-11-11T10:22:00.000-08:00

Electronic Music Festival: wow! That is all I can say after spending an evening floating in a sea of people. You literally could not control which way you moved or even faced. Rivers of people were streaming though the crowd. If you got caught in the current you might end up at the stage or worse yet, with your face firmly placed in someone's armpit. It was so cold you actually wanted to be in the middle of 75K sweating people. This was not an event for the hypochondriac. To the uninitiated like myself, this was definatly an experience to remember.

I had intended to post pictures of the event, but again didnt take my camera. The one camera that did attend, was ultimately lost. I am sure if mine had gone, a similar fate would have been inevitable. Around 3:30 a.m., with party still rolling, I boarded a city bus and headed back to town. After about 45 minutes, I apparently had picked the correct bus because it dropped me off directly in front of my house...nice. I am sure photos and movies will be posted on YouTube later this week.

Tao Te Ching

2007-11-08T13:28:00.000-08:00

Before leaving the states, I was able to have breakfast with one of my good friends, Pat. I have known him for a long time, sometimes I think too long - jk, but nevertheless we go a long way back. He and I both share some of the same sentiments about travel and seeing the world, so it was no suprise that he was a little envious of my journey. Despite being green, he gave me a book out of his own collection.

I have just finished reading Tao Te Ching. I previously read it in college during my sophmore year in a world history course, but barely remembered the title. Pat,s instructions were to "read the book when travels are good and to read the book when travels are bad." In a circular thought only a pshchology student (or ancient Chinese philosopher) could scribe, I took the book and thanked him.

Sitting in the airport in Washington, DC I decided to open the book and read a few pages. For those unfamilier, the Tao Te Ching (translated by Stephen Mitchell), was origionally written by a Confucious scholor, Lao-tzu, between the years of 551 - 479 B.C.E. The book is written as poetry, with each page being a different poem. Note that this book has been translated many, many times, so it it fairly obvious to see where the modern editor might have taken some liberties. The author states, "...But I have also pharaphrased, expanded, contracted, interrpreted, worked with the text, played with it until it became embodied in a language that felt genuine to me. I haven,t always translated Lao-tzu,s words, my intention has always been to translate his mind."

In the spirit of paraphrasing, I have decided to condense the book down even further. While reading, I highlighted what I liked and discarded the rest. As the author puts it, "When a superior man hears of the Tao, he immediately begins to embody it. When an average man hears of the Tao, he half believes it, half doubts it. When a foolish man hears the Tao, he laughs out loud..." With that, I give you an average synopsis.

While my religious beliefs differ from the author, many of the short sayings can be taken simply as good advice. Below are the lines I highlighted. Notice that many are taken from the middle of longer paragraphs identfied by "...". Text that I neither understood or disagreed with, but still felt worthy of mentioning is enclosed "???".

Sorry for making this book more vague that it already is, but I am also using this blog as a journal and sounding board. It may only make sense to me.

Thanks Pat!

p.2 -...Therefore the Master acts without doing anything and teaches without saying anything...

p.3 - ...by weakening their ambition and toughening their resolve. ...and creates confusion...

p.5 - ...the more you talk of it, the less you understand...

p.6 - ...it gives birth to infinite worlds.

p.8 - In dwelling, live close to the ground. In thinking, keep to the simple. In conflict, be fair and generous. In governing, don,t try to control. In work, do what you enjoy. In family life, be completely present.

p.9 - Do your work, then step back.

p.10 - ...Can you love people and lead them without imposing you will?...acting with no expectations,...

p.11 - We shape clay into a pot, but it is the emptiness inside that holds whatever we want.

p.12 - ...Desires wither the heart. The Master observes the world but trusts his inner vision....

p.13 - See the world as you self. Have faith in the way things are...

p.14 - ...Just realize where you come from: this is the essence of wisdom.

p.15 - ...Clear as a glass of water. Do you have the patience to wait till your mud settles and the water is clear?...

p.16 - ...Watch the turmoil of beings, but contemplate their return. ...Returning to the source is serenity. If you dont realize the source, you stumble in confusion and sorrow...

p.17 - If you dont trust the people, you make them untrustworthy.

p.18 - ...When the country falls into chaos, patriotism is born.

p.19 - ???Throw away holiness and wisdom, and people will be a hundred times happier. Throw away morality and justice, and people will do the right thing. Throw away industry and profit, and there wont be any thieves. If these three arent enought, just stay at the center of the circle and let all things take their course.???

p.20 - ...What difference between yes and no?... ???Other people are excited, as though they were at a parade. I alone dont care, I alone am expressionless, like an infant before it can smile.???

p21 - ...Because she lets it...

p.22 - If you want to become whole, let yourself be partial... ...Because he has nothing to prove, people can trust his words...

p.23 - ...If you open yourself to insight, you are at one with insight and you can use it completely. If you open yourself loss, you are at one with loss, and you can accept is completely. ...then trust you natural responses;...

p.24 - He ho stands on tiptoe doesnt stand firm. He who rushes ahead doesnt go far. He who tries to shine dims his own light. He who defines himself cant know who he really is. He who has power over others cant empower himself. He who clings to his work will create nothing that endures.

p.26 - ???...If you let yourself be blown to and fro, you lose touch with your root.??? If you let restlessness move you, you lose touch with who you are.

p.27 - A good travelers has no fixed plans and is not intent upon arriving... ...What is a good man but a bad man´s teacher? What is a bad man but a good man´s job?...

p.28 - ...be a pattern for the world. ???Know the personal, yet keep to the impersonal: accept the world as it is. If you accept the world, the Tao will be luminous inside you and you will return to your primal self.???

p.30 - ...For every force there is a counterforce. Violence, even well intentioned, always rebounds upon oneself.

p.31 - ...Weapons are the tools of fear;...only with the utmost restraint....

p.32 - ...When you have institutions, know where their functions should end...

p.33 - Knowing others intelligence; knowing yourself is true wisdom. ...If you realize that you have enough, you are truly rich.

p.37 - ...When there is no desire, all things are at peace.

p.38 - ...The ordinary man is always doing things, yet many more are left to be done. ...???The moral man does something, and when no one responds he rolls up his sleeves and uses force. When the Tao is lost, there is goodness. When the goodness is lost, there is morality. When morality is lost, there is ritual. Ritual is the husk of true faith, the beginning of chaos...

p.39 - ...???When man interferferes with the Tao, the sky becomes filthy, the earth becomes depleted, the equilibrium crumbles, creatures become extinct.??? ...His contstant practice is humility...

p.40 - ...All things are born of being. Being is born of non-being.

p.41 - ...The path into the light seems dark, the path forward seems to go back, the direct path seems long, true power seems weak,...

p.42 - ...Ordinary men hate solitude....

p.44 - Fame or integrity: which is more important? Money of happiness: which is more valuable? Success or failure: which is more destructive? If you look to others for fulfillment, you will never be fulfilled. If you happiness depends on money, you will never be happy with yourself...

p.46 - ???When a country is in harmony with the Tao, the factories make trucks and tractors. When a country goes counter to the Tao, warheads are stockpiled outside the cities???...

p.48 - ...Less and less do you need to force things, until finally you arrive at non-action. ...by letting things go their own way....

p.49 - ...???She is good to people who are good. She is also good to people who arent good. This is true goodness. She trusts people ho are trustworthy. She also trusts people who arent trustworthy. This is true trust. The Master´s mind is like space. People dont understand her. They look to her and wait. She treats them like her own children.???

p.50 - ...He holds nothing back from life; therefore he is ready for death, as a man is ready to sleep after a good day´s work.

p.52 - ...Knowing how to yeild is strength....

p.53 - ...when the upper class is extravgagvant and irresponsible...

p.55 - ...He never expects results; thus he is never disappointed. He is never disppointed; thus his spirit never grows old.

p.56 - ...Close your mouth, block off you senses, blunt your sharpness, untie your knots, soften your glare, settle you dust. This is the primal identity...

p.58 - ...she is pointed, but doesnt pierce...

p.60 - ...Give evil nothing to oppose and it will disappear by itself.

p.61 - ...He thinks of his enemy as the shadow that he himself casts....

p.63 - ...When she runs into a difficulty, she stops and gives herself to it. She doesn´t cling to her own comfort; thus problems are no problem for her.

p.64 - ...Prevent trouble before it arises. Put things in order before they exist. The giant pine tree grows from a tiny sprout. The journey of a thousand miles starts from beneath you feet. ...Forcing a project to completion, you ruin what was almost ripe. ...He simply reminds people of who they have always been...

p.65 - ...When they think that they know the answers, people are difficult to guide. When they know that they don´t know, people can find their own way. ...The simplest pattern is the clearest....

p.66 - If you want to govern the people, you must place yourself below them. If you want to lead the people, you must learn how to follow them...

p.67 - ...simplicity, patience, compassion...

p.68 - ???The best athelete wants his opponent at his best. The best general enters the mind of his enemy. The best businessman serves the communal good. The best leader follows the will of the people. All of them embody the virtue of non-completition. Not that they don´t love to complete, but they do it in the spirit of play. In this they are like children and in harmony the Tao.???

p.69 - ...???When two great forces oppose each other, the victory will go to the one that knows how to yeild.???

p.71 - ...Presuming to know is a disease....

p.72 - ???When they lose their sense of awe, people trun to religion. When they no longer trust themselves, they begin to depend upon authority...???

p.74 -If you realize that all things change, there is nothing you will try to hold on to. If you aren´t afraid of dying, there is nothing you can´t achieve...

p.76 - ...The hard and stiff will be broken. The soft and supple ill prevail.

p.78 - ...True words seem paradoxical.

p.79 - Failure is an opportunity. If you blame someone else, there is no end to the blame...

p.80 - ???If a country is goverend wisely, its inhabitants will content. They enjoy the labot of their hands and dont waste time inventing labor-saving machines. Since they dearly love their homes, they aren´t interested in travel. There may be a few wagons and boats, but these don´t go anywhere. There may be an arsenal of weapons, but nobody ever uses them. People enjoy their food, take pleasure in being with their families, spend weekends working in their gardens, delight in the doings of the neighborhood. And even though the next country is so close that people can hear its roosters crowing and its dogs barking, they are content to die of old age without ever having gone to see it.???

p.81 - ...Wise men don´t need to provge their point; men who need to prove their point aren´t wise...

Buenas Aires Pictures: 10/28/2007 - 11/11/2007

2007-11-07T08:33:00.000-08:00

I have finally found an internet cafe that is everything I had hoped. The computers are all running XP and are clearly using better administrative software (that hasnt been ripped off in China). Below is an embedded slide show. To see the picture in its entirety, just click it and you will be redirected to the album. You can even post comments to the picture that will be available in the albums RSS feed (linked at the bottom of blog Sam's Photo Gallery). Also, I appologize for so few lifeforms being visable in these photos. I need to do a better job of actually taking my camera with me when I leave the house. Eitherway, it's a start. Stay tuned for many more...

The Ponies

2007-11-06T08:18:00.001-08:00

Every Sunday morning starts out with good intentions, but this past Sunday, I unfortunately digressed. I began my day in search of a local Catedral to catch Mass in Spanish. After no success, my roomate Julia asked I would like to go the Malba (Museo Latinoamericano de Buenas Aires) in Recoleta. Since I had nothing else to do, I said ¨sure.¨ After seeing some very interesting art exhibits, including one with rolling videos of a person´s hands making some rather interesting gestures, we decided to go for a walk in the park.

As the afternoon continued, we found ouselves a long way from where we began. When out of the corner of my nose comes a familiar smell. The smell of digested hay now rotting in the hot BA sun. To my suprise we had stumbled to find the Hippodromo, or Race Track. Even better, they were running races! Trotting our way through the gate, we arrived to see the seventh race. Races were run every half hour, while conviently located in the lower level of the stands was a casino. After playing a couple slots, ultimately costing me two pesos, or about 75 cents U.S., and watching a couple races, we decided to head home. That´s the kind of gambling I can stomach.

The Heist

2007-11-06T08:16:00.000-08:00

Everyone knows that petty crime happens everywhere. BA is no different, but I must applaud it´s thugs for brining a new twist to an old gag. To begin, mi amigo Peter, a semi-retired financial analyst from the Chezch Repblic was standing at an intersection across the street from our school. As he was standing there, an older woman spilled mayonaise on his pant leg. In the instance, he dropped the bag he was carrying and bent down to help the lady. A accompliace from behind deftly switched his bag for another. Before he realized what happened, he picked up what he thought was his bag, only to realize he´d been had. A couple new credit cards and a passport later, he is back in business.

Subte

2007-11-03T15:31:00.000-07:00

Coming from a city where public transportation is seemingly ineffective, BA appreas to be a city planner´s best day. However irradic and with complete disragard for safety, traffic flows in the tiniest of alley ways. The public transportation system is extremely reliable and efficient, yet I say this on the eve of an impending transportation strike. Please check back to see my sentiments a few days from now.

Having been here a little over a week I feel I have gathered enough knowledge about the Subte (subway) and los collectivos (city buses) to be considered and educated tourist. I can say that riding the is somewhat a pleasant experience. The cars are not over packed and instead of the peddling muscians staging their music in the transfer stations, they actually board the trains. A nice Saturday train ride could likely include soulful renditions from Miles Davis to Van Morrison. A 40 minute train ride can easily be passed with a three person rhythm section and a wanna_be Kenny G.

Dinner at 11

2007-11-01T08:12:00.000-07:00

One thing I have noticed is that no-one is in a hurry to eat around here. The thought of food isn´t even mentioned until around 8:30 p.m. and even that is just a thought. No action formally takes place unitl around 9:15 and that ususally consists of making a decision. Now, I am all for the relaxed, laid-back lifestyle (that´s part of the reason I am taking this little journey), but if you know me, you understand that I tend to get cranky when I don´t eat. When you are new to a city and are just meeting people, there is no room for a cranky American.

Last night we ate dinner at a really nice restuarant in an area of town called Palermo. It is considered the high-rent district and has a ton of young people. The party consisted of my roomate Julia, her profesora Vicki, a expatriot named Peter from Holland, a slovenian lawyer Moritza, and myself. Conversations covered were accidental drug overdoses/suicide of Kurt Cobain and the genre of Jazz. Appartenly, eveyone is a fan of Miles Davis...good taste. Total dinner cost around $140 pesos or about US$45.oo. This included two bottles of wine, five dinners, and bottled water.

Earlier in the week Julia made a deal with her teacher Vicki. Julia, from New York, would only speak Spanish to Vicki and Vicki would only speak English to Julia. Confusing, I know, but you will see where this is going. As the night went on we hit a stumbling block that was hillarious. Apparently, non-native English speakers have a problem saying"beaches." A few pronunciation excercises and fist-pumps later we had established the difference between "beaches" and "bitches." I now understand there are alot of "beaches" in Uruguay, not "bitches." At first I just thought is was a neighborly feud.

Incognito

2007-10-30T18:06:00.000-07:00

Getting these pictures online has been a much longer and arduous task than I ever expected. If I am not doging dogey computers, I am dodging their sketchy operators. Confused, let me explain! So I finally found a computer lab that has computers in semi-working order. They are fast, clean in the local sense, and have working USB ports. Nevermind the keyboards have no QWERTY resemblance. No joke - where QWERTY should be, it reads QM(ESC)RTY.

So, I was sitting there minding my own business, uploading pictures when I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. To my suprise, it was a probing webcam from the neighboring workstation. Its handler asked me if "quieres ver algunas mujeres, porque ellas quieren ver tu (translation - do you want to see some girls, because they want to see you)". Don´t hold me to that translation or the dictation, but I certainly got the gist. After politely saying, "no gracias, " he went back to his chatroom and I assumed the situation was resolved. Five minutes later I turn towards computer only to see him sitting there out of his seat scanning me with this webcam. He tried to explain once again, but I abandonded the Spanish for some universally understood explicatives. I am sure whoever was on the receiving end of this web-cam was thoroughly amused. I will try again this weekend.

RSS Feeds

2007-10-30T08:56:00.001-07:00

To make things easier on those who anticipate looking at this blog regualarly, below I have outlined instructions for accessing the site´s RSS Feed. Thanks Raleigh! I also believe I have set the blog to list all comments by users in the RSS Feed as well. This alleviates actually having to visit the blog to view updated comments.

"Near the bottom of the blog you can see the link to subscribe to posts. That should open the default RSS reader on the user's computer, be it Safari, Firefox, or an actual newsreader application (NewsFire, Vienna, etc.). It could just be the browser, which would open a new tab or window showing the feed. Safari also shows an RSS icon in the address bar if there's an available feed to pick up. You could just click that icon to go to the feed."

Back to School

2007-10-29T04:32:00.000-07:00

Well, here we go. Today, I started class after having only been in BA for about 24 hours. To my suprise I arrived at the school this morning only to find no-one was there. After a brief panic at the thought I was really lost, I found an internet cafe and sent an email to the program coordinator. A few minues of web-surfing later, I noticed the computer clock said 7:30 a.m. Apparently, my ipod (which I am using as an alarm clock) has BA in a different timezone than it acutually is. To make a short story even shorter, I had arrived a full hour and a half early.

Once the confusion was over, I enrolled in the school and began my classes. I am taking four hours of Spanish per day, five days a week. There are five other students in my class including two from Great Britian, two from Germany, and one Canadian. My initial observation is that I am definately the least qualified for my placement level. One of the ¨"British blokes" took notice, gave me his workbook from the previous class, and said I sounded Welsh. Now, if my history serves me correctly, although funny, I belive that wasn´t positive feedback. Who knew I would find my Welsh accent in Argentina? Needless to say, I have alot of studying to do if I want to move on to the next levels two weeks from now.

Bienvenidos BBQ

2007-10-29T03:43:00.000-07:00

My first night in the house was a blast. The owner of the house invited about 12 of her closest friends over and we cooked an inordinate amount of meat. Most interesting was a sausage made with blood and various other organs from a pig. Interesting, but I didn´t go back for seconds.

While we were cooking my roomate Matis (Matthew, from Germany) asked me what I did for a living. I told him I was on a sabatical, but previously I worked in Property & Casulty Insurance. We both laughed as we took pictures of the open charcoal fire raging in the kitchen. Embers were flying across the room landing on stacks of old newspaper. It was all you could do to avoid being scalded by the flaming explosions. Matis then asked from an insurance standpoint what I thought about the situation. I am sure you can imagine my answer. Muy mal!

As the evening continued, lengthy discussions took place in Spanish about the newly elected president and the pronuciation of various bodily functions (my contribution was the American slang "poop"). For me, it was a highlight of the night to watch my new Argentinian friends rapid fire Spanish then insert the term "poop." Aside from only understanding a few words other than poop, I can say the evening was a success.