Looks like the ruminations are going to have to wait until I get full access to a computer.
Please check the track my tour link as I update that daily
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Idaho pics
- cool shots of the river we road along
- a few riding pics with good scenery in the background
- beautiful sunset in Stanley
- the lost trail abandoned ski lodge where we stayed when it stormed ("bear-proofed" of course)
- chief Joseph pass, our highest
- second sunset is at the ski lodge (first in Stanley)
- cabins where we stayed in Stanley with the sawtooth mountains in the background
- a few riding pics with good scenery in the background
- beautiful sunset in Stanley
- the lost trail abandoned ski lodge where we stayed when it stormed ("bear-proofed" of course)
- chief Joseph pass, our highest
- second sunset is at the ski lodge (first in Stanley)
- cabins where we stayed in Stanley with the sawtooth mountains in the background
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
IDAHO
Idaho: More than just potatoes (note the "e" Dan Quayle)
Perfect example of east coast bias: I thought Idaho was little more than a flyover state of the west. Little did I know that it's a hidden treasure for those willing to put in the slightest bit of effort. Idaho boasts one of the largest percentages of public land per total land area, 3rd in the nation (just over 60%). It took us about a day to get through all the fluff and make it into the national forest, but from there we followed rivers and climbed mountains to our hearts's content.
Perfect example of east coast bias: I thought Idaho was little more than a flyover state of the west. Little did I know that it's a hidden treasure for those willing to put in the slightest bit of effort. Idaho boasts one of the largest percentages of public land per total land area, 3rd in the nation (just over 60%). It took us about a day to get through all the fluff and make it into the national forest, but from there we followed rivers and climbed mountains to our hearts's content.
Our highest summit yet: 7,200 ft. A man on a hike a few thousand feet down was so impressed he gaves us a couple of PBRs and told us we had to toast the top.
Our main destination is Idaho was Stanley, population: 63. This number only holds true during the winter months, during the summer it's an outdoorsman's paradise. After our massive climb we took it easy that night but I was up early for two breakfasts at the local bakery and must have seen at least 200 people role through there. We meant to do some stand-up paddleboarding down the Salmon river but let the day get away from us. The cabins where we were staying had a cycling group come through so we spent some time swapping good cycling stories, relaxed, and eventually made it to Red Lake (where we got to do a bit of paddle boarding). The lake was only about 7 miles from town but I REALLY didn't want to get on a bike, so we hitched.
Though I've picked up a hitchhiker before, I've never done it myself. Bradley told me to bring a collared shirt before I left because it made us look presentable. I laughed but did it, and am glad I did. Hitchhiking is tough. We only went a little over 5 miles each way but it involved 4 separate rides (one for each road, each way). We ran the gambit in terms of styles of cars and individuals and drank it all in, never once fearing for our safety (NOT an endorsement of hitchhiking, remember this is a town of 63!).
View from Red Fish Lake, well worth the effort!
BIKE FORREST, BIKE!
Connections can't help but be drawn between this adventure and Forrest Gump just taking off and running. I'm not sure how many times people brought this up in talking about it before I left, but I lost count at 20 (after the fingers and toes it's a struggle for me). I'm not exactly sure how to interpret this, but I generally take the optimistic side on this one. I figure at worst they're hinting that I'm a simpleton, and hell, I've been called much worse (probably in the past 1/2 hour).
All of this talk about this movie and it's main character really made me think a bit deeper about it. Though this cinematic great has a variety of entertaining elements: love, action, comedy, etc., I'd like to focus on one that's probably overlooked: fear.
Fear is a natural part of life and one we all deal with in different ways. Fear is natural and circumstantially beneficial. Fright or flight is an innate trait of the human condition, one that prepares the mind and body to respond in a way that hopefully maximizes the chances for survival. Unfortunately, this condition is somewhat antiquated in that we generally no longer being chased down by sabertooth tigers. Lacking such primal stimuli, our fear turns towards other things: fear of not acheiving what we want to acheive, fear of not being loved, fear of failure, (insert you greatest fears here). What currently intrigues me about Forrest Gump is that he showed no fear in overcoming all his adversity and acheiving so much. Rescueing comrades from a firestorm of gunfire? No problem. Underdog in the olympics? Stone face. Worst storm in the gulf in many years? Enjoy the ride. While most of us don't have the luxury of either not understanding or completely ignoring fear, I think this movie is exemplary is promoting what can be accomplished in the face of fear. (This may be a common theme so don't be suprised if there's another bit on this later).
Side note: Forrest Gump is the most interesting man in the world. Sorry Dos Equis guy, you put up one helluva fight and even a great PR campaign, but Forrest has you by a notch. On the surface, their fictional accomplishments are probably on par. It's hard to compare olympic gold to summiting mountains, or national medals or honor to having a variety of things named after you, so we'll leave the subjectivity out of this. What seperates Forrest from doble-X is love. Every time you see the well-aged man sporting a brown or green bottle he has two beautiful ladies at his side. Good for him, but what straight male wouldn't want that? (especially one in his later years). What makes Forrest more interesting is his unconditional love for Jenny. Jenny is the only woman he's ever had eyes on and his love for her never fades, despite the fact that she continually pushes him away with a multitude of acts that seemingly contradict his values. What could motivate that? How does it stay so strong? I completely understand the two beautiful women thing, but have no idea how to answer these questions, which makes in my book makes Forrest more interesting.
My beard is almost that long :)
Monday, July 23, 2012
OREGON
WE RIDE AT FIRST LIGHT
Well, not exactly. We probably adopted more of the Steve Coogan approach to our adventure.
As prepared as I felt leading up to this trip, the start of our journey was not exacted with the precision that I am used to. There are several reasons for this, most of which I won't bore you with, but the most important one is this: this shit is hard! There's a fine balance between weight, luxury, efficiency, and necessity and it's one we are constantly refining. Packing everything that we need to essentially live off of for the next two months is a daunting task, and making it fit onto the back of a bicycle is even harder.
After a week on the road we've pretty much got it down to the essentials (or what we've learned to live with), but still seem to have trouble getting it together in the morning. Part of this is due to the fact that we finish our rides dead tired, rip open our bags to get what we need, and clean up the disaster FEMA-style the following morning. Another large part is that we don't want to rush. This is our time and we get to spend it how we please. That said, some of this time could probably be better spent elsewhere. Breakfast, for example, is something we take very seriously, and we usually leave ourselves a half hour or so to digest. Eating right when we get up would give us time to digest, however, while we pack up our stuff. It's little refinements like this that will allow us to maximize our efficiency without spending too much time figuring out how to maximize efficiency (that's what jobs are for).
ZIN AND THE ART OF BICYCLE MAINTENANCE
Like most major endeavors in life, this trip is about doing the best you can with the resources you have. We could have done this ride supported, or carried front bags, or spent thousands of dollars in reducing effort on the road. Self-sufficiency is something we pride ourselves on, however, so we pinpointed some of the major items and figured we'd leave the overspending to those who get more enjoyment out of it. The top three transportation concerns are: bicycle, seat/saddle, and tires. For the bike we went with a Surly Long Haul Trucker, a solid name and good value. The saddle was Brooks, top of the line, but it's leather so anyone who's broken in a new pair of leather shoes can quite literally feel our pain. The tires I opted for were GatorSkin Ultra Puncture proof, a good choice but poor execution. Anyone following the Track My Tour knows about our tire travails. Mid-ride in 90 degree heat the third flat tire of the day causes me to get more than a little frustrated and angry, as evidenced by the pic Bradley snapped of me below.
It wasn't until my front tube popped in Burns that we realized I was given bad information. I was told to buy 23mm tires when in actuality I should have purchased 35mm. 1/3rd less surface area to absorb rocks and various other mario-cart type obstacles made for a rough ride in the most literal of senses. Finding this out was actually a bit of a relief as we thought we were going crazy with so many flats. We killed a day in Burns, OR (which I would never recommend), drove back to Bend (which I'd highly recommend), and had the bike shop set us up with the most durable of tires. We lost a day and a few hundred dollars, but have probably already saved a ton of time and increased enjoyment. I'll probably end up saving money in the end as alcohol has proven the best way for me to cope with mechanical issues (as it is with all of life's problems, right?). We've also enacted a rule that if you pop a flat, you have to take a shot that evening. This should serve as a good deterrent since neither of us are currently in a fraternity.
OREGON TRAIL
For those of you not of my generation, I'm terribly sorry you did not get a chance to experience one of the best video games ever. Perhaps you could find a 1985 macintosh and a floppy disk to re-live it, though odds are you'll have better luck finding a time machine and traveling back. I remember playing this game in school, though I can't quite remember what lesson it was supposed to teach us, other than that life back then was really damn hard. Nonetheless, the nearly universally known jokes that it has provided well into my adulthood have proven priceless. Not really sure if I can give context, or even if context would do any good, but somehow a few "fording river" and "dying of dysentery" jokes seem to come across my path each year.
Fortunately for us, life hasn't been so hard. Though in some parts of Oregon it seems like not much has changed since the days of Lewis and Clark. Western Oregon is absolutely amazing. I actually drove up the week before our launch: 24 hours of driving for 48 hours of play time. Totally worth it. Hell, I've drive up again just to drive around. The first few days took us through Eugene, Willamette National Forest, and Bend. The roads were great, people were friendly, weather was perfect for riding, and it seemed like anything we needed fell into our lap. As we inched closer to eastern Oregon, however, this magic began to fade (except the people, who have remained friendly throughout). Everyone we asked seemed to have little idea what was past Bend, but we figured more people would know as we got closer. We figured wrong. East of Bend are the Oregon Badlands, 260 miles of desert with little to nothing in the way of services and scenery. Fortunately there was usually a restaurant or gas station every 40/50 miles or so (never both) so we made it through, and even made the best of it.
Be sure to check out the quick pics link for pictures and the track my tour link for more detailed point to point comments and pics.
Well, not exactly. We probably adopted more of the Steve Coogan approach to our adventure.
the most amount of upper-body exercise we'll be getting for months
After a week on the road we've pretty much got it down to the essentials (or what we've learned to live with), but still seem to have trouble getting it together in the morning. Part of this is due to the fact that we finish our rides dead tired, rip open our bags to get what we need, and clean up the disaster FEMA-style the following morning. Another large part is that we don't want to rush. This is our time and we get to spend it how we please. That said, some of this time could probably be better spent elsewhere. Breakfast, for example, is something we take very seriously, and we usually leave ourselves a half hour or so to digest. Eating right when we get up would give us time to digest, however, while we pack up our stuff. It's little refinements like this that will allow us to maximize our efficiency without spending too much time figuring out how to maximize efficiency (that's what jobs are for).
ZIN AND THE ART OF BICYCLE MAINTENANCE
Like most major endeavors in life, this trip is about doing the best you can with the resources you have. We could have done this ride supported, or carried front bags, or spent thousands of dollars in reducing effort on the road. Self-sufficiency is something we pride ourselves on, however, so we pinpointed some of the major items and figured we'd leave the overspending to those who get more enjoyment out of it. The top three transportation concerns are: bicycle, seat/saddle, and tires. For the bike we went with a Surly Long Haul Trucker, a solid name and good value. The saddle was Brooks, top of the line, but it's leather so anyone who's broken in a new pair of leather shoes can quite literally feel our pain. The tires I opted for were GatorSkin Ultra Puncture proof, a good choice but poor execution. Anyone following the Track My Tour knows about our tire travails. Mid-ride in 90 degree heat the third flat tire of the day causes me to get more than a little frustrated and angry, as evidenced by the pic Bradley snapped of me below.
Cure for the common flat
OREGON TRAIL
For those of you not of my generation, I'm terribly sorry you did not get a chance to experience one of the best video games ever. Perhaps you could find a 1985 macintosh and a floppy disk to re-live it, though odds are you'll have better luck finding a time machine and traveling back. I remember playing this game in school, though I can't quite remember what lesson it was supposed to teach us, other than that life back then was really damn hard. Nonetheless, the nearly universally known jokes that it has provided well into my adulthood have proven priceless. Not really sure if I can give context, or even if context would do any good, but somehow a few "fording river" and "dying of dysentery" jokes seem to come across my path each year.
Fortunately for us, life hasn't been so hard. Though in some parts of Oregon it seems like not much has changed since the days of Lewis and Clark. Western Oregon is absolutely amazing. I actually drove up the week before our launch: 24 hours of driving for 48 hours of play time. Totally worth it. Hell, I've drive up again just to drive around. The first few days took us through Eugene, Willamette National Forest, and Bend. The roads were great, people were friendly, weather was perfect for riding, and it seemed like anything we needed fell into our lap. As we inched closer to eastern Oregon, however, this magic began to fade (except the people, who have remained friendly throughout). Everyone we asked seemed to have little idea what was past Bend, but we figured more people would know as we got closer. We figured wrong. East of Bend are the Oregon Badlands, 260 miles of desert with little to nothing in the way of services and scenery. Fortunately there was usually a restaurant or gas station every 40/50 miles or so (never both) so we made it through, and even made the best of it.
Rest stop bathroom - one of the higher quality sleeping establishments Eastern Oregon has to offer.
Be sure to check out the quick pics link for pictures and the track my tour link for more detailed point to point comments and pics.
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Ready to Launch
Spent the night in Coos Bay, OR and most of the morning getting everything in order. About an hour from launching and only a minor wig out on the way up....as to be expected I guess. Generally posts will be more well written but figured it was best to notify everyone since I'll be starting the Track My Tour App today.
Only one thing left to do before we start...
Only one thing left to do before we start...
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
T Minus 5 Days
I’m not even sure where to begin. Of all the questions asked to me about this trip, “how?” almost seems to be the easiest one. “Get on your bike and ride” is what I tell myself each time I hear this question, though my outward answer is usually a bit more eloquent. Many have alluded to Forrest Gump (clearly), which isn’t too far from the truth. The idea originated as “do it just to do it,” but as the idea has progressed, it has become so much more. On the deeper side of things I would say it’s a chance to rediscover America and rediscover myself. On the lighter side, it will be full of challenges, adventures, misadventures, interesting people, and probably more than my fair share of discomfort where the sun don’t shine. I plan on drinking it all in and smiling from ear to ear throughout.
The lead up has actually been one of the more frustrating parts, though I have no one to blame but myself. Logistics are a bit tricky for this trip and no one will ever be 100% prepared, as a good deal will have to be figured out along the way. That said, I’ve left way too much for the eleventh hour. This is only compounded by the fact that I’m leaving my job and trying to squeeze in every last moment with those I care about most. The end result is a crappy diet, too much drinking, not enough sleep, and pretty much feeling like a sloth. I find quite a bit of humor in that the thing I’m looking forward to most about the first day of our ride (probably 90 miles) is actually being able to get some rest!
Under no pretense do I pretend that this trip is about anything other than me. I have found myself at a crossroads in my life and, lacking of better options, decided 80 miles per day on a bicycle sounded a lot better than 10 hours a day behind two computer screens. I find great comfort in continuous motion, which anyone who has ever met me can affirm. It brings clarity to my mind and solace to my heart, both of which I could use a bit more of right now. Even still, I hope to share this trip not only with those whose paths I cross, but also those who mean so much to me: my friends and family. They have shaped my life, given me the strength and courage to pursue non-traditional endeavors, and continually supported me throughout my wildest ideas.
This blog seems to be one of the better means of communication with the outside world, especially since I’m hoping to maintain a relative level of detachment throughout the trip. Technological advances have made it much easier to share much more, even without using the coveted Facebook. I hope to post my thoughts at least once a week (and probably pictures too) but should be updating the Track my Tour daily (see pics and track my tour links to the left). If ever I lose motivation, I need to look no further than a quick picture on my iPhone of my niece, whose parents are using this trip as a way to teach her US Geography this summer :)
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The lead up has actually been one of the more frustrating parts, though I have no one to blame but myself. Logistics are a bit tricky for this trip and no one will ever be 100% prepared, as a good deal will have to be figured out along the way. That said, I’ve left way too much for the eleventh hour. This is only compounded by the fact that I’m leaving my job and trying to squeeze in every last moment with those I care about most. The end result is a crappy diet, too much drinking, not enough sleep, and pretty much feeling like a sloth. I find quite a bit of humor in that the thing I’m looking forward to most about the first day of our ride (probably 90 miles) is actually being able to get some rest!
Under no pretense do I pretend that this trip is about anything other than me. I have found myself at a crossroads in my life and, lacking of better options, decided 80 miles per day on a bicycle sounded a lot better than 10 hours a day behind two computer screens. I find great comfort in continuous motion, which anyone who has ever met me can affirm. It brings clarity to my mind and solace to my heart, both of which I could use a bit more of right now. Even still, I hope to share this trip not only with those whose paths I cross, but also those who mean so much to me: my friends and family. They have shaped my life, given me the strength and courage to pursue non-traditional endeavors, and continually supported me throughout my wildest ideas.
This blog seems to be one of the better means of communication with the outside world, especially since I’m hoping to maintain a relative level of detachment throughout the trip. Technological advances have made it much easier to share much more, even without using the coveted Facebook. I hope to post my thoughts at least once a week (and probably pictures too) but should be updating the Track my Tour daily (see pics and track my tour links to the left). If ever I lose motivation, I need to look no further than a quick picture on my iPhone of my niece, whose parents are using this trip as a way to teach her US Geography this summer :)
Let the adventure begin…
Monday, April 27, 2009
Venezuela
I often joke about how I'm going straight to hell, usually for an inappropriate joke I made or for something I did. I might have to change this tongue and cheek remark as Im starting to think Ive already been. I really cant say enough bad things about Venezuela, though I sure can try. It wasnt all negative, however, so lets start out with the positive.
Some highlights:
The hot dogs. Sounds weird, I know, but the way they dress them is an art form where the actual meet takes second stage. Ketchup, mustard, mayonnaise, and potato crisps are the standard topping, then you have about another 10-16 to choose from. I usually went with processed cheese and hot sauce, Julie took the former and some form of corn. Its funny how much this country loves its toppings, quite the contrast to argentina (pretty much no sauces, ever).
Our trip back to catch our flight was a little shakey. It was Easter weekend, which is pretty much the south american travel equivalent of thanksgiving in the US, except that you can only buy your bus tickets the day of. generally never a problem, but I went early to the station (about 15 hours before we wanted to leave) just in case. What I found looked more like the trading floor of the NYSE than a bus station, pure chaos with all the buses sold out. Our bus was sold out so we collected our things and returned, looking for a private car (much more expensive) but really just hoping to make it back so we could make our flight.
What we ended up finding was much better. It was a bus, one that was not altogether too comfy, but very clean. More important than the bus were the people inside it. Everyone seemed very nice and helpful and we actually ended up sitting next to some Law School students from Caracas. Although there was a language barrier at times, we managed to get along quite quite...the booze helped. They were having a time of it with Rum and Coke, but since I dont drink coke about every 15 minutes theyd offer up a cap full of rum. Julie wasnt as keen on the rum so one of the girls pulled out baileys. Although the never had enough to get intoxicated (they did), it proved a great social lubricant. Before I knew it our bus had turned into a variety show. People were getting up to tell jokes as we were stuck in traffic, one guy had a guitar and led horribly off key (but funny) sing alongs, etc. Julie and I actually became the center of attention as one of the students tried to convince some other individuals we were actually venezuelans posing as americans to trick them all. Babies then starting getting passed around to take pictures with us, we were giving samba dancing lessons while the bus was stuck in traffic, I really cant make this stuff up. Once we arrived the students then took us out for a traditional venezuelan type meal and even treated us! They called us a secure taxi that was half the price of our initial one from the airport and even offered up their place (we refused, had to draw the line somewhere). As tough of an experience as we had in Venezuela, it was so refreshing to experience such a random act of kindness and I will never forget it.
PLEASE NOTE: I would never recommend taking drinks from strangers or following the back to their place, especially not in Venezuela...this was a very special set of circumstances.
THE NOT SO GOOD STUFF
Venezuelas' problems really stem from one main thing: Chavez. I have no doubt he is significantly better than the Caudillo's before him, but that gives him no right to run the country into the ground in hopes of boosting his own ego. From Chavez comes the currency problem. In order to curb growing inflation a few years back, the Venezuelan Bolivar was pegged to the US dollar at a rate of 2.15 to 1. Although inflation was somewhat tamed, its still high and the rate has become a farce. So much so, in fact, that just about anywhere you go there is a parallel (illegal but common) market for US dollars at a rate of around 5 to 1.
For tourists this is a problem because if you want to do venezuela on the cheap, you have to walk around with all the cash you are planning to spend for the entire vacation. Considering Venezuela is the most dangerous of South American countries, this isnt realy a good idea. For Venezuelans this is a problem because everything is sold at the parallel rate, making prices absurdly high. I can only presume that Chavez has used oil money to help appease the masses. Gas is priced at nearly free ($1 US to fill up your tank) and oil revenues are used to lower taxes and give money to those in need. This was all well and good when oil was $150 a barrel, but at one third of that Chavez is going to have to make some tough changes. My fears are as follows: currency gets depegged and collapses, chavez reduces social welfare programs and raises taxes thus becoming unpopular, refuses to give up control and becomes dictator type (by force if necessary).
OTHER TOURIST THINGS
You wont read much about Venezuela online, as most people either dont go there or those that do try to forget it. Its a shame really, cause a fair amount of the people seem good and helpful. They are, however, overshadowed by the massive amount of crime and the seedy underbelly. Id say Gotham City would be a good comparison, if the readers dont mind me summoning my inner comic book nerd. We spent most of our time in the Caribbean, on Margarita Islans and along the coast (palay colorada). Both are considered treasures but what we saw was trashed lined roads and beaches filled with litter. Some interesting security measures were instituting along our journey. To exchange what was about $7 US officially (before I knew of the black market) I not only had to give my name and passport number (plus a copy), but also my finger print. Addiditionally, on our way to the beach our bus would stop and everyone wuold have to get out for a luggage search and full scale pat down. Men with gun had all the males line up, hands on the bus, legs spread where they made sure you werent packing heat. Although there method could be described as quite thorough (or "all up in my junk") it actually made me feel less safe). Unless things change significantly in terms of politics, economics, and infrastructure, I really wouldnt recommend this country to anyone. Even these "beautiful places" that we were supposed to have seen were tarnished and hard to enjoy as we never felt comfortable.
Ill leave you with a comparison of costs to hammer to point home on just how expensive venezuela is.
Columbia: 6 nights, all in decent and comfortable hostels. Took taxis almost everywhere and ate a large majority of our meals in restaurants. Did laundray, stocked up on supplies (dry goods, shampoo, etc.) Saw sights, went to museums, and paid for excursions. Total cost per person per week: $200
Venezuela. 7 nights, 2 spent in a hilton hotel (free from points), another free as we slept in the airport. Two of the four night of paid lodging were in places visiting by working girls and johns, and the other two were spent in a commune type place where i slept in a hammock (or didnt sleep, rather). We are out once, breakfast. The rest of the meals werent realy even cooked, they were generally peanut butter sandwiches. Depleted supplies, no laundry, walked everywhere. Saw very few sights and paid no entrance fees (couldnt afford it). Total cost per person per week: $300.
Some highlights:
The hot dogs. Sounds weird, I know, but the way they dress them is an art form where the actual meet takes second stage. Ketchup, mustard, mayonnaise, and potato crisps are the standard topping, then you have about another 10-16 to choose from. I usually went with processed cheese and hot sauce, Julie took the former and some form of corn. Its funny how much this country loves its toppings, quite the contrast to argentina (pretty much no sauces, ever).
Our trip back to catch our flight was a little shakey. It was Easter weekend, which is pretty much the south american travel equivalent of thanksgiving in the US, except that you can only buy your bus tickets the day of. generally never a problem, but I went early to the station (about 15 hours before we wanted to leave) just in case. What I found looked more like the trading floor of the NYSE than a bus station, pure chaos with all the buses sold out. Our bus was sold out so we collected our things and returned, looking for a private car (much more expensive) but really just hoping to make it back so we could make our flight.
What we ended up finding was much better. It was a bus, one that was not altogether too comfy, but very clean. More important than the bus were the people inside it. Everyone seemed very nice and helpful and we actually ended up sitting next to some Law School students from Caracas. Although there was a language barrier at times, we managed to get along quite quite...the booze helped. They were having a time of it with Rum and Coke, but since I dont drink coke about every 15 minutes theyd offer up a cap full of rum. Julie wasnt as keen on the rum so one of the girls pulled out baileys. Although the never had enough to get intoxicated (they did), it proved a great social lubricant. Before I knew it our bus had turned into a variety show. People were getting up to tell jokes as we were stuck in traffic, one guy had a guitar and led horribly off key (but funny) sing alongs, etc. Julie and I actually became the center of attention as one of the students tried to convince some other individuals we were actually venezuelans posing as americans to trick them all. Babies then starting getting passed around to take pictures with us, we were giving samba dancing lessons while the bus was stuck in traffic, I really cant make this stuff up. Once we arrived the students then took us out for a traditional venezuelan type meal and even treated us! They called us a secure taxi that was half the price of our initial one from the airport and even offered up their place (we refused, had to draw the line somewhere). As tough of an experience as we had in Venezuela, it was so refreshing to experience such a random act of kindness and I will never forget it.
PLEASE NOTE: I would never recommend taking drinks from strangers or following the back to their place, especially not in Venezuela...this was a very special set of circumstances.
THE NOT SO GOOD STUFF
Venezuelas' problems really stem from one main thing: Chavez. I have no doubt he is significantly better than the Caudillo's before him, but that gives him no right to run the country into the ground in hopes of boosting his own ego. From Chavez comes the currency problem. In order to curb growing inflation a few years back, the Venezuelan Bolivar was pegged to the US dollar at a rate of 2.15 to 1. Although inflation was somewhat tamed, its still high and the rate has become a farce. So much so, in fact, that just about anywhere you go there is a parallel (illegal but common) market for US dollars at a rate of around 5 to 1.
For tourists this is a problem because if you want to do venezuela on the cheap, you have to walk around with all the cash you are planning to spend for the entire vacation. Considering Venezuela is the most dangerous of South American countries, this isnt realy a good idea. For Venezuelans this is a problem because everything is sold at the parallel rate, making prices absurdly high. I can only presume that Chavez has used oil money to help appease the masses. Gas is priced at nearly free ($1 US to fill up your tank) and oil revenues are used to lower taxes and give money to those in need. This was all well and good when oil was $150 a barrel, but at one third of that Chavez is going to have to make some tough changes. My fears are as follows: currency gets depegged and collapses, chavez reduces social welfare programs and raises taxes thus becoming unpopular, refuses to give up control and becomes dictator type (by force if necessary).
OTHER TOURIST THINGS
You wont read much about Venezuela online, as most people either dont go there or those that do try to forget it. Its a shame really, cause a fair amount of the people seem good and helpful. They are, however, overshadowed by the massive amount of crime and the seedy underbelly. Id say Gotham City would be a good comparison, if the readers dont mind me summoning my inner comic book nerd. We spent most of our time in the Caribbean, on Margarita Islans and along the coast (palay colorada). Both are considered treasures but what we saw was trashed lined roads and beaches filled with litter. Some interesting security measures were instituting along our journey. To exchange what was about $7 US officially (before I knew of the black market) I not only had to give my name and passport number (plus a copy), but also my finger print. Addiditionally, on our way to the beach our bus would stop and everyone wuold have to get out for a luggage search and full scale pat down. Men with gun had all the males line up, hands on the bus, legs spread where they made sure you werent packing heat. Although there method could be described as quite thorough (or "all up in my junk") it actually made me feel less safe). Unless things change significantly in terms of politics, economics, and infrastructure, I really wouldnt recommend this country to anyone. Even these "beautiful places" that we were supposed to have seen were tarnished and hard to enjoy as we never felt comfortable.
Ill leave you with a comparison of costs to hammer to point home on just how expensive venezuela is.
Columbia: 6 nights, all in decent and comfortable hostels. Took taxis almost everywhere and ate a large majority of our meals in restaurants. Did laundray, stocked up on supplies (dry goods, shampoo, etc.) Saw sights, went to museums, and paid for excursions. Total cost per person per week: $200
Venezuela. 7 nights, 2 spent in a hilton hotel (free from points), another free as we slept in the airport. Two of the four night of paid lodging were in places visiting by working girls and johns, and the other two were spent in a commune type place where i slept in a hammock (or didnt sleep, rather). We are out once, breakfast. The rest of the meals werent realy even cooked, they were generally peanut butter sandwiches. Depleted supplies, no laundry, walked everywhere. Saw very few sights and paid no entrance fees (couldnt afford it). Total cost per person per week: $300.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Columbia
This country has come a long way from the days of Pablo Escobar, and even from the havoc of the early and mid-90´s. Safety and security have increased exponentially, allowing much of the culture-rich environment to shine through.
BOGOTA
Our flight was due in around 730, leaving me just enough time to gather my bags and get to the hostel before the dreaded 10pm hour. Fate, however, had different plans. Our flight was delayed out of Panama, putting my arrival time at 1030...the curse continues. In addition to our room being just above some sort of party room, I awoke to a little late night rendezvous in the bunk below. My bed was literally shaking; had I been in LA, I would have thought it an earthquake. After an extended throat clearing (much too long to be anything but a signal for STOP) they stopped. Paused is actually a better word as 20 seconds later the fun continued. Fortunately for me (and unfortunately for him), it didnt last a whole lot longer.
Nonetheless, I didnt let it deter me from enjoying the city. Thus far, Bogota is the nicest metro area that Ive been too and it has quite a lot to offer. We did a walking tour and ended at the gold museum, which was nice, but may have actually been an overabundance of gold. A few examples below:
We also stopped by Plaza Bolivar, which houses the legislative branch and parts of the justice department. This plaza has been plagued by violence over the past thirty years with bombings, shootings, and hostage situations. You can actually see the steeple of an adjacent church chock-full ´o bullet holes.
Part of Plaza Bolivar, minus the bullet holes
We also went ahead and toured the police museum, which is one of the better tours ive taken down here. The tour is free and right away you are greeted by a far too young columbian soldier speaking broken english. Service is mandatory in Columbia, though just for a year. The guides are friendly and very informative. The first half of the tour takes you pretty much through the war with the drug cartels, the second part is about the modern day police force. I really enjoyed the attitude they took about their history, it was one of humility with an optimism towards improvement.
On to Medellin...
Mom, close your ears. The road was pretty much as youd expect it: windy, hilly, and full of jungle. It took us thirteen hours to go 300 miles and seemed as if guerilla troops could hop out at any minute and take the bus. Again, this was just appearance. The reality was that it was beautiful scenery along a safe route.
Ok...now this is just getting a little old. Our delayed bus put us in late. No problem with the hostel this time, just the cabbie who took us there. He didnt know where it was and had to stop 11 times for directions (I counted), almost wrecked once (would have if I didnt tell him to look out), and went the wrong way down a one way street twice. On top of that, he charged us almost the full fare! He did take off 10% but it was still about twice as much as we should have paid. From now on Im making sure I get somewhere in the daytime.
MEDELLIN
Im not going to lie, the main reason for my going here was that it had been talked up so much on Entourage. E and the boys didn´t let me down, however, as this is definitely the best city ive been too thus far. Hell, its a remarkable city even considering Europe and north america. Some of the perks: the nicest metro Ive ever been on (tied with Munich, but provides a great view of the city), great safety (could walk around at night no problem), clean, cheap, and the people are all so friendly and helpful (without even asking theyll come up and give you directions/offer to help).
As we wondered around looking for the interactive museum, we stumbled upon some sort of temporary exhibit they had up. The exhibit went through Medellin, past and present. It honored those that were killed in the drug wars, while emphasizing a better tomorrow. Medellin currently devotes 40% of every tax dollar to education, that three times the amount of any other place in Bogota. They pretty much had enough of all the crime and violence, pulled themselves up by the bootstraps, and turned the city into an international destination for both tourists and business. It really is remarkable and Id recommend it to anyone.
A few pictures from Plaza Botero. Sorry, these are borrowed from my buddy Adam so theyre the best I can do for now. Notice the interesting design of the church. Botero was a famous sculptor/artist whose designs are all bubbly (see statues in pic 2). Its kind of hard not to smile when seeing these overly-corpulent statues, though one was used to hide a bomb several years ago.
We did take one day trip out of the city to Guatape, about 2 hours outside. Here there is a massive rock that you hike up to see this beautiful lake landscape that almost appears as an archipelago. We wanted to swim in the lake but the clouds rolled in and it was a bit too cold so we had to settle for a fresh fish lunch. The trout was fried whole and brought out to use, head, eyes and all. Still delicious though.
My three days there wasnt enough and I definitely want to go back.
BOGOTA
Our flight was due in around 730, leaving me just enough time to gather my bags and get to the hostel before the dreaded 10pm hour. Fate, however, had different plans. Our flight was delayed out of Panama, putting my arrival time at 1030...the curse continues. In addition to our room being just above some sort of party room, I awoke to a little late night rendezvous in the bunk below. My bed was literally shaking; had I been in LA, I would have thought it an earthquake. After an extended throat clearing (much too long to be anything but a signal for STOP) they stopped. Paused is actually a better word as 20 seconds later the fun continued. Fortunately for me (and unfortunately for him), it didnt last a whole lot longer.
Nonetheless, I didnt let it deter me from enjoying the city. Thus far, Bogota is the nicest metro area that Ive been too and it has quite a lot to offer. We did a walking tour and ended at the gold museum, which was nice, but may have actually been an overabundance of gold. A few examples below:
We also stopped by Plaza Bolivar, which houses the legislative branch and parts of the justice department. This plaza has been plagued by violence over the past thirty years with bombings, shootings, and hostage situations. You can actually see the steeple of an adjacent church chock-full ´o bullet holes.
Part of Plaza Bolivar, minus the bullet holes
We also went ahead and toured the police museum, which is one of the better tours ive taken down here. The tour is free and right away you are greeted by a far too young columbian soldier speaking broken english. Service is mandatory in Columbia, though just for a year. The guides are friendly and very informative. The first half of the tour takes you pretty much through the war with the drug cartels, the second part is about the modern day police force. I really enjoyed the attitude they took about their history, it was one of humility with an optimism towards improvement.
On to Medellin...
Mom, close your ears. The road was pretty much as youd expect it: windy, hilly, and full of jungle. It took us thirteen hours to go 300 miles and seemed as if guerilla troops could hop out at any minute and take the bus. Again, this was just appearance. The reality was that it was beautiful scenery along a safe route.
Ok...now this is just getting a little old. Our delayed bus put us in late. No problem with the hostel this time, just the cabbie who took us there. He didnt know where it was and had to stop 11 times for directions (I counted), almost wrecked once (would have if I didnt tell him to look out), and went the wrong way down a one way street twice. On top of that, he charged us almost the full fare! He did take off 10% but it was still about twice as much as we should have paid. From now on Im making sure I get somewhere in the daytime.
MEDELLIN
Im not going to lie, the main reason for my going here was that it had been talked up so much on Entourage. E and the boys didn´t let me down, however, as this is definitely the best city ive been too thus far. Hell, its a remarkable city even considering Europe and north america. Some of the perks: the nicest metro Ive ever been on (tied with Munich, but provides a great view of the city), great safety (could walk around at night no problem), clean, cheap, and the people are all so friendly and helpful (without even asking theyll come up and give you directions/offer to help).
As we wondered around looking for the interactive museum, we stumbled upon some sort of temporary exhibit they had up. The exhibit went through Medellin, past and present. It honored those that were killed in the drug wars, while emphasizing a better tomorrow. Medellin currently devotes 40% of every tax dollar to education, that three times the amount of any other place in Bogota. They pretty much had enough of all the crime and violence, pulled themselves up by the bootstraps, and turned the city into an international destination for both tourists and business. It really is remarkable and Id recommend it to anyone.
A few pictures from Plaza Botero. Sorry, these are borrowed from my buddy Adam so theyre the best I can do for now. Notice the interesting design of the church. Botero was a famous sculptor/artist whose designs are all bubbly (see statues in pic 2). Its kind of hard not to smile when seeing these overly-corpulent statues, though one was used to hide a bomb several years ago.
We did take one day trip out of the city to Guatape, about 2 hours outside. Here there is a massive rock that you hike up to see this beautiful lake landscape that almost appears as an archipelago. We wanted to swim in the lake but the clouds rolled in and it was a bit too cold so we had to settle for a fresh fish lunch. The trout was fried whole and brought out to use, head, eyes and all. Still delicious though.
My three days there wasnt enough and I definitely want to go back.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
NATURE
Editors note: As aforementioned, my camara capabilities have been limited. I no longer have a working one but plan on borrowing pics from my travel partner, Julie. As of now, I have a few from Galapagos (posted) though there are still hundred more that will have to wait until mid-May. As a results, Ill probably be changing the format a little bit.
Also, Im a bit behind on my posting (surprise suprise) so I will be attempting to make a new post every five days or so.
GALAPAGOS ISLANDS
There really is no way to explain them in full. Its nature at its best, Keats perfect moment frozen in time. Every island we went to it felt like I was a guest, and that the animals were allowing me to see what their lives were like. Its amazing how close you could get up too them, though not too close as you didnt want to change their habits. I was actually pretty happy with the way that the tour was conducted in the sense that it was very respectful of the natural envirnments.
Every day we did two different land excursions, each having something unique to offer. There was also snorkeling once a day, which was probably my favorite part, but the pics from Julies underwater camera will have to wait. Just a teaser though: I got to swim with sea turtles, sea lions, penguins, king rays (about fout feet across), and even sharks!
A quick run down on the stops:
BARTOLOME- Our first stop was one of the more popular islands, or at least the most fotographed. It is an extinct volcano and much of the land is composed of old volcanic rock. Off to the side is Pinnacle rock, a popular spot for snorkeling and the main symbol of the galapagos. On the top is a volcanic cone that provides great views of terrific landscapes.
FERNANDINA- Not much to offer in the way of plant life, but the Fauna was pretty great. This is the home to the largest population of Marine Iguanas in the world (so many you had to watch your step), which made for an interesting boat ride to island to see them scurrying across the water. The island is popluated with iguanas, the sally lightfoot crab, and flightless cormorants. Along the waterside sea lions and rays can be found.
Flightless cormorant shakin its tail feather (drying off)
Look close, theres a lizard chillin on top of the iguanas head
ISABELA- The largest island in the Galapagos that really stands out as its shaped like a sea horse. This island has great views of the volcanos and its terrain is composed mainly of lava fields...so much so that it can get quite hot during the day (hot enough to fry an egg!) We had two stops on this island, one where we got to see the lava fields, and another to see some wild life. We were treated to some pink flamengos, various other bird species, land turtles, and land iguanas (much bigger than the marine iguanas, up to 20lbs!)
Blown up puffer fish on the volcanic field
Boobies Everywhere! The blue footed boobie is native to the islands and known for its distinct feet, as well as its mating dance.
FLOREANA- Predominantly known for Post Office Bay. This was an old school post office where people would drop letters and fisherman would come by and see if any of the letters were addressed to where they were going too. If you took a letter, it was your responsibility to hand deliver it to the addressee, thus no stamp needed. The tradition continues today, though unfortunately there was no post card going to Richmond and I didnt have any to address. Theres also an underground cave, which is kind of cool for a few minutes but lacks in the islands main attractions: flora and fauna. As we made our way back to the main island for our return, we were also treated to a small group of sperm whales swimming near the boat...absolutely amazing.
The post office, oddly enough looks better than most Argentine ones!
Julie and I at Post Office Bay. Id love to say thats some sort of weird sea/land creature to the left, but its just a pair of legs. Thank goodness for photoshop!
SANTA CRUZ- One of the main islands with the largest population, thus not much to see in the way of nature. I disliked this island as it meant we were leaving the next day.
ONE WARNING: If you are considering booking an island tour, stay away from both Columbus Travel (a travel agency) and Latin Trails (the tour organizer). This may be hard as your options are limited but defintaley check to see who is offering the tour. I say this because my friend Julie and I booked together, and were promised a room together, but ended up seperate. My roommate ended up being a photographer that Latin Trails stuck in there since there was an empty bed and Julies was a lady who only spoke russian. When told of the error of their ways, they offered nothing more than an apology, which was hard enough to get out of them. It sounds bratty, but when you spend enough money to live in bolivia for several months on one week, you expect things to go right.
A MOMENT OF HILARITY- Julies roommate provided several as she always tried to speak russian like anyone on the boat understood here. At one point we were going through some coves on a boat and identifying fish and she started to ask if there was a certain one but no on knew what she was saying. Finally she stuck two fingers out of her forehead and starting mooing. Everyone was still confused, except me, I knew right away. Manatee, or sea cow...thank you Jim Gaffigan.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
When Life Gives You Limes...
Make Limeade! I realize this is a departure from one of my previous posts that suggest to just start hucking the assigned fruit at individuals. However, a certain amount of optimism is required.
Lima is the spanish word for lime, and the city itself actually takes on some of its attributes. Its good an small dosis, but a little bit goes a long way. That being said, the four of us (Lee, Brynn, Marie, and myself) managed to make a day of it. Any time youre driving from an airport and see a car on fire, you know things are going to be at least interesting. We carried on towards the hostel where we met the owner, who seemed to be a surfer party boy with little else to do. He also had no concept of time as we told him we were only there for a day and he suggested about 72 hours (continuous) of events.
Jose then hooked us up with his cousin/brother/friend who, for the low low price of $3 per, prepared us fresh ceviche and parmesan scallops...probably one of the best deals for meals Ive ever had. We then meandered across the plaza to get some much needed ice cream (you get weird cravings out on the trail) but walked into bizarro world. Instead of a regular menu, everything this place had was in picture form because they created sculptures out of their ice cream (mickey mouse, a duck, guy with a cannon...you get the idea). Fully engorged, we decided to work off some of our intake with a little late afternoon surfing. The waves werent great, which was fine because we werent either. Still, rather lovely. The night life wasnt too promising, though we werent looking for much. They do, however, have a water fountain park that makes the Bellagio look like a squirt gun. No a bad send off for the rest of the gang though.
BACK IN THE HIGH LIFE AGAIN
Steve Winwood is full of shit. After a brief hiatus in Lima (sea level) I returned to elevation in Quito, around 2800 meters. Quito is what I would like to describe as a "shithole" and it kind of caught me off guard. There are two main tourist parts to the city, old town and new town. Old town being more colonial and historic, new town having more of the nightlife. I decided to stay in new town. Ive also decided that I should never arrive in a new city after 10pm (remember the girl that wanted to drug me in Cuzco?) as there was a prostitute on the corner when I arrived. It turned out it wasnt the timing, as I woke to find crack dealers up and down the street and spread throughout the neighbourhood. I tried my best to see the city during the day but took it rather easy during the night. My second night I was really considering going out until I came back to the hostel and heard three mugging stories from that day (including one guy who was mugged three times on his walk home). I stayed in.
I wouldnt really consider myself the cautious type, but just didnt have a good feeling about this city. Turns out I was right, I went out the next night (four blocks away and only stayed out until 11) and on my return was almost mugged. One of the three crack dealers on the street was running across and screaming at me and I was able to get in the hostel just in time to close the door in his face.
Some of the highlights: They have a really nice old cathedral in town. By really nice I mean they let you do whatever you want. Seriously, I was crawling around in the rafters and made my way up into the old bell tower...not the safest thing in the world but pretty fun. Also, their central bank was putting on a currency exhibition, which was interesting to see the history of their currency.
For those of you who dont know, Equadors official currency is the US dollar. Rememeber when the Sacagawea coin came out? Ever wondered where they all went? Answer: Equador. Other than a few minor coins, everything is US mint. Do you have any idea of the benefit the US receives annually from this? Every dollar outside the country is essentially a debt the US government never has to pay. Add to that the thousands of dollar most wealthy thrid world country citizens keep as their savings and the US is reaping a massive benefit. I just hope the dollar remains the common currency of the world, if not, that could mean trouble.
SAD NOTE: I believe that I mentioned my camera broke on the final day of the trail, just as we reached Macchu Picchu. Although Im now traveling with Julie, who has two cameras, it also appears as if my Picasa Web Albums is full. Ill try to figure out a way around this but until then there will be few pictures available. I just posted about 100 from Peru.
Until next time...
Lima is the spanish word for lime, and the city itself actually takes on some of its attributes. Its good an small dosis, but a little bit goes a long way. That being said, the four of us (Lee, Brynn, Marie, and myself) managed to make a day of it. Any time youre driving from an airport and see a car on fire, you know things are going to be at least interesting. We carried on towards the hostel where we met the owner, who seemed to be a surfer party boy with little else to do. He also had no concept of time as we told him we were only there for a day and he suggested about 72 hours (continuous) of events.
Jose then hooked us up with his cousin/brother/friend who, for the low low price of $3 per, prepared us fresh ceviche and parmesan scallops...probably one of the best deals for meals Ive ever had. We then meandered across the plaza to get some much needed ice cream (you get weird cravings out on the trail) but walked into bizarro world. Instead of a regular menu, everything this place had was in picture form because they created sculptures out of their ice cream (mickey mouse, a duck, guy with a cannon...you get the idea). Fully engorged, we decided to work off some of our intake with a little late afternoon surfing. The waves werent great, which was fine because we werent either. Still, rather lovely. The night life wasnt too promising, though we werent looking for much. They do, however, have a water fountain park that makes the Bellagio look like a squirt gun. No a bad send off for the rest of the gang though.
BACK IN THE HIGH LIFE AGAIN
Steve Winwood is full of shit. After a brief hiatus in Lima (sea level) I returned to elevation in Quito, around 2800 meters. Quito is what I would like to describe as a "shithole" and it kind of caught me off guard. There are two main tourist parts to the city, old town and new town. Old town being more colonial and historic, new town having more of the nightlife. I decided to stay in new town. Ive also decided that I should never arrive in a new city after 10pm (remember the girl that wanted to drug me in Cuzco?) as there was a prostitute on the corner when I arrived. It turned out it wasnt the timing, as I woke to find crack dealers up and down the street and spread throughout the neighbourhood. I tried my best to see the city during the day but took it rather easy during the night. My second night I was really considering going out until I came back to the hostel and heard three mugging stories from that day (including one guy who was mugged three times on his walk home). I stayed in.
I wouldnt really consider myself the cautious type, but just didnt have a good feeling about this city. Turns out I was right, I went out the next night (four blocks away and only stayed out until 11) and on my return was almost mugged. One of the three crack dealers on the street was running across and screaming at me and I was able to get in the hostel just in time to close the door in his face.
Some of the highlights: They have a really nice old cathedral in town. By really nice I mean they let you do whatever you want. Seriously, I was crawling around in the rafters and made my way up into the old bell tower...not the safest thing in the world but pretty fun. Also, their central bank was putting on a currency exhibition, which was interesting to see the history of their currency.
For those of you who dont know, Equadors official currency is the US dollar. Rememeber when the Sacagawea coin came out? Ever wondered where they all went? Answer: Equador. Other than a few minor coins, everything is US mint. Do you have any idea of the benefit the US receives annually from this? Every dollar outside the country is essentially a debt the US government never has to pay. Add to that the thousands of dollar most wealthy thrid world country citizens keep as their savings and the US is reaping a massive benefit. I just hope the dollar remains the common currency of the world, if not, that could mean trouble.
SAD NOTE: I believe that I mentioned my camera broke on the final day of the trail, just as we reached Macchu Picchu. Although Im now traveling with Julie, who has two cameras, it also appears as if my Picasa Web Albums is full. Ill try to figure out a way around this but until then there will be few pictures available. I just posted about 100 from Peru.
Until next time...
Sunday, March 22, 2009
A few quick notes: Apparently people can ¨follow¨ my blog, which I didn´t know until my buddy Adam just did about a week ago. As of now I see no added benefit to this other than making me feel good about myself, but I put a link on there anyway in case you want to. New photos are up, a smattering of bolivia and peru. Still have some more Bolivia pics yet to make it up due to extenuating circumstances (unavoidably detained). Lastly, trying a shorter format, hope you like it.
I also forgot one of the more important parts of Bolivia:
HOW DO YOU LIKE YOUR LLAMA FETUS?
Cause in Bolivia, apparently the correct answer is ¨dried.¨ Interesting fact about Llamas: they abort their first three children. Im pretty such its out of social protest but some claim science has something to do with it too. The coca leaves must have been extra strong when they came up with this tradition because I don´t really understand it. Apparently you take the dried llama fetus and place it on top of what I like to call a ¨random crap burrito¨ consisting of paper shavings and various other trinkets. You roll it up and place it in the corner of the house and repeat four times, one for each corner. This is supposed to ward of bad spirits but I feel like it doesnt work. Perhaps burying the Llama fetus might be a better idea? At least then you may get a llama fetus tree, or who knows, maybe even a whole llama will grow. Im willing to bet its the overly powerful dried llama fetus llama that is keeping this tradition alive.
Something tells me this is going to be the Tickle Me Elmo of 2009
WELCOME TO CUZCO
After my 12 hour bus ride into the city all I wanted was a beer and bed. I got the former but the latter just wasnt in the cards. As I was flossing my teeth a girl comes out of the bathroom and our conversation is as follows (please note this takes place over several hours and is condensed):
Aussie Girl: You´re flossing, thats lame
Daniel: Sorry
AG: Thats ok, I just threw up lasagna. Where are you sleeping?
Daniel: The room next door
AG: Me too! (dragging me into the room) This is my bed, this is my best friend nat´s bed, this is my brother chris´s bed, and you´re sleeping above stinky bitch.
Daniel: Stinky bitch?
AG: yeah, shes a stinky old bitch (she actually was stinky, though not old, and I was unable to tell if she was a bitch or not). you should come out with us!
Daniel: no thanks, really tired.
AG: Want a vicaden?
Daniel: Ill be alright, thanks
AG: You want some lasagna?
Daniel: (not sure the source of the lasagna) ill pass
(friend walks in) AG to friend: do you have any heroin
Nat: yeah
AG: and coke?
Nat: yeah
AG: Great, lets go out
(RETURN AT 3 AM)
AG: Daniel wake up, I brought you something (shoving a mcdonalds cup filled with ketchup packets in my face). HAHAHA! Just kidding! those are for breakfast tomorrow. You going to come out with us tomorrow night?
Daniel: Maybe
AG: You better, and you better get fucked up! If not I´m going to slip a vicaden in your drink! (the girls proceed to talk about the last person they did that to as ball up in the fetal position and rock myself to sleep).
some guys have all the luck.
POOR MR MARBLES
Said name can really be substituted for any pet you had in your childhood. One of the Peruvian national dishes is Guinea Pig. Before our big day we decided to partake in such a decadent dish and visited a restaurant specializing in such.
Turns out this place was a tourist trap as the food really wasnt great, but we got out money´s worth in jokes that haunted our childhood memories.
We samples the Buffalo Guinea Wings. I guess the restaurant would have also worked well for those who hate italians as they could get away with slurs all night.
We also managed to have a good time around town. Generally I shy away from ghastly american behavior like making fun of other cultures, but sometimes Peru just made it too easy:
Lee and Brynn have decided on a career change and are practicing up
THE INCA TRAIL
Enough about Cuzco though, lets get down to the good stuff. A group of six of us went. Two friends from college, Julie and Lee. One friend from LA, Chris. And two of Julie´s friends. The trail itself lasted four days and was absolutely one of the most incredible things Ive ever done.
Day 1
Was considered the easy day, so we knew we were in for trouble. It didnt help that I was lugging about 30lbs on my back. We started in the Sacred Valley at 2400 meters and worked our way all the way up to 3200 meters, stopping off to see ruins built into the mountainside. We setup camp around 5pm and there were some locals selling luke warm beer that wasnt that good to begin with. It cost about $2 and would have taken the worlds strongest man to pry that beer from my Kungfu grip.
A Man selling drinks along the way. Julie tested his credit card ad and was denied. Law suit currently pending.
Some of the ruins built into the mountainside
Day 2
This was supposed to be the Tough Day, so we knew we were in trouble since the soreness really kicked in after a nights rest. This day is 18km, climbing 800m, then descending 600 (much harder than it sounds), climbing another 300 and descending 500 more. Its such a challenge that there are extra mountain folk around willing to carrying peoples packs for them so they can walk it without weight. Some members of our group opted for this route, though I wont mention whom. As tough as it was, Im glad I kept my pack with me. The altitude has such an effect that Im sure I would have been struggling anyways, thus would have felt like an uber-wimp.
Dead Womans Pass was the heighest the trail gets, 4200m, and apparently such an accomplishment that its picture worthy.
Day 3
The majority of the hard work is out of the way on the first two days, which is nice because you can enjoy the last two much more. We hiked through mountains, jungles, and forests, and it never got old. I knew I was really living in the moment when I realized I hadnt thought about anything to do with computers for the past three days. Unfortunately some of the most amazing things we saw (clouds coming in over the landscapes etc), the camera does no justice to. I, however, am under the impression that that is the way it should be. There are some things that only belong as a memory in your head, thats what makes them unique and unable to replicate.
A Sampling of some of the trail we traversed
Day 4
We woke up at 4 AM to try to beat the crowds into Machu Picchu, our final destination. Unfortunately, after 1.5 hours of hiking, my camera decides to break right as we reach the lost Incan city. Our group is sharing pictures so I should have some soon...I apologize for any delays and emotional scarring this may have caused.
Once we made it into the city we headed toward Wacchamamma, the adjoining mountain because apparently in our new found masochism we hadnt had enough hiking. The situation turned a bit crazy and we ended up having to rush our hike, which is always good when climbing hundreds of meters with no guard rails. Glad I made the climb, though the weather was too cloudy for good views of P City (its following in P Diddys footsteps. Ancient lost cities these days, what are you going to do?) This was followed by a tour of the city. Scholars maintain that the translation was lost thousands of years ago, but really, no one has any idea why this city was built into the mountainside. Their best guess: university. My best guess: precursor to Neverland ranch.
I also forgot one of the more important parts of Bolivia:
HOW DO YOU LIKE YOUR LLAMA FETUS?
Cause in Bolivia, apparently the correct answer is ¨dried.¨ Interesting fact about Llamas: they abort their first three children. Im pretty such its out of social protest but some claim science has something to do with it too. The coca leaves must have been extra strong when they came up with this tradition because I don´t really understand it. Apparently you take the dried llama fetus and place it on top of what I like to call a ¨random crap burrito¨ consisting of paper shavings and various other trinkets. You roll it up and place it in the corner of the house and repeat four times, one for each corner. This is supposed to ward of bad spirits but I feel like it doesnt work. Perhaps burying the Llama fetus might be a better idea? At least then you may get a llama fetus tree, or who knows, maybe even a whole llama will grow. Im willing to bet its the overly powerful dried llama fetus llama that is keeping this tradition alive.
Something tells me this is going to be the Tickle Me Elmo of 2009
WELCOME TO CUZCO
After my 12 hour bus ride into the city all I wanted was a beer and bed. I got the former but the latter just wasnt in the cards. As I was flossing my teeth a girl comes out of the bathroom and our conversation is as follows (please note this takes place over several hours and is condensed):
Aussie Girl: You´re flossing, thats lame
Daniel: Sorry
AG: Thats ok, I just threw up lasagna. Where are you sleeping?
Daniel: The room next door
AG: Me too! (dragging me into the room) This is my bed, this is my best friend nat´s bed, this is my brother chris´s bed, and you´re sleeping above stinky bitch.
Daniel: Stinky bitch?
AG: yeah, shes a stinky old bitch (she actually was stinky, though not old, and I was unable to tell if she was a bitch or not). you should come out with us!
Daniel: no thanks, really tired.
AG: Want a vicaden?
Daniel: Ill be alright, thanks
AG: You want some lasagna?
Daniel: (not sure the source of the lasagna) ill pass
(friend walks in) AG to friend: do you have any heroin
Nat: yeah
AG: and coke?
Nat: yeah
AG: Great, lets go out
(RETURN AT 3 AM)
AG: Daniel wake up, I brought you something (shoving a mcdonalds cup filled with ketchup packets in my face). HAHAHA! Just kidding! those are for breakfast tomorrow. You going to come out with us tomorrow night?
Daniel: Maybe
AG: You better, and you better get fucked up! If not I´m going to slip a vicaden in your drink! (the girls proceed to talk about the last person they did that to as ball up in the fetal position and rock myself to sleep).
some guys have all the luck.
POOR MR MARBLES
Said name can really be substituted for any pet you had in your childhood. One of the Peruvian national dishes is Guinea Pig. Before our big day we decided to partake in such a decadent dish and visited a restaurant specializing in such.
Turns out this place was a tourist trap as the food really wasnt great, but we got out money´s worth in jokes that haunted our childhood memories.
We samples the Buffalo Guinea Wings. I guess the restaurant would have also worked well for those who hate italians as they could get away with slurs all night.
We also managed to have a good time around town. Generally I shy away from ghastly american behavior like making fun of other cultures, but sometimes Peru just made it too easy:
Lee and Brynn have decided on a career change and are practicing up
THE INCA TRAIL
Enough about Cuzco though, lets get down to the good stuff. A group of six of us went. Two friends from college, Julie and Lee. One friend from LA, Chris. And two of Julie´s friends. The trail itself lasted four days and was absolutely one of the most incredible things Ive ever done.
Day 1
Was considered the easy day, so we knew we were in for trouble. It didnt help that I was lugging about 30lbs on my back. We started in the Sacred Valley at 2400 meters and worked our way all the way up to 3200 meters, stopping off to see ruins built into the mountainside. We setup camp around 5pm and there were some locals selling luke warm beer that wasnt that good to begin with. It cost about $2 and would have taken the worlds strongest man to pry that beer from my Kungfu grip.
A Man selling drinks along the way. Julie tested his credit card ad and was denied. Law suit currently pending.
Some of the ruins built into the mountainside
Day 2
This was supposed to be the Tough Day, so we knew we were in trouble since the soreness really kicked in after a nights rest. This day is 18km, climbing 800m, then descending 600 (much harder than it sounds), climbing another 300 and descending 500 more. Its such a challenge that there are extra mountain folk around willing to carrying peoples packs for them so they can walk it without weight. Some members of our group opted for this route, though I wont mention whom. As tough as it was, Im glad I kept my pack with me. The altitude has such an effect that Im sure I would have been struggling anyways, thus would have felt like an uber-wimp.
Dead Womans Pass was the heighest the trail gets, 4200m, and apparently such an accomplishment that its picture worthy.
Day 3
The majority of the hard work is out of the way on the first two days, which is nice because you can enjoy the last two much more. We hiked through mountains, jungles, and forests, and it never got old. I knew I was really living in the moment when I realized I hadnt thought about anything to do with computers for the past three days. Unfortunately some of the most amazing things we saw (clouds coming in over the landscapes etc), the camera does no justice to. I, however, am under the impression that that is the way it should be. There are some things that only belong as a memory in your head, thats what makes them unique and unable to replicate.
A Sampling of some of the trail we traversed
Day 4
We woke up at 4 AM to try to beat the crowds into Machu Picchu, our final destination. Unfortunately, after 1.5 hours of hiking, my camera decides to break right as we reach the lost Incan city. Our group is sharing pictures so I should have some soon...I apologize for any delays and emotional scarring this may have caused.
Once we made it into the city we headed toward Wacchamamma, the adjoining mountain because apparently in our new found masochism we hadnt had enough hiking. The situation turned a bit crazy and we ended up having to rush our hike, which is always good when climbing hundreds of meters with no guard rails. Glad I made the climb, though the weather was too cloudy for good views of P City (its following in P Diddys footsteps. Ancient lost cities these days, what are you going to do?) This was followed by a tour of the city. Scholars maintain that the translation was lost thousands of years ago, but really, no one has any idea why this city was built into the mountainside. Their best guess: university. My best guess: precursor to Neverland ranch.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Heaven and Hell
Editors note: If youve read Adams post from the past blog, youll notice that I left out names in the previous posting. I usually do this for the sake of anonymity (not that it matters that much) but apparently I have offened my dear friend Adam. In the name of full disclosure, Adam is the name of the guy from South Africa. And don´t worry Adam, you weren´t just ¨that guy from South Africa,¨ you were my only guy from South Africa. Since Ive held back to much here´s a bit more info about Adam: he used to live in London, he wears mankinis, and his favorite drink is a cosmopolitan :)
AM I DREAMING?
The third day of our trek through the desert we reached the much awaited destination: the salt flats of Uyuni. 12,000 km in area and up to 10m deep, this ancient dried out lake is a site for the ages. Most of the fun we had was with depth perception, since you are surrounded by white, putting things/objects in the background can make them seem smaller. For example:
A picture that appears if GoGo Jonas and I are shrunk and holding up Adam.
We also had a little bit of fun with this one:
A little Angel and Devil on the shoulder
This last one doesnt quite capture it all the way as I was at the wrong angle with the sun, but it almost appears if Im free falling.
We also stopped by the Isla de Pescados (Fish Island), smack in the middle of the salt flats. It gets its name in that it´s shaped like a fish if viewed from above. It´s most known for its cacti, some as high as 16 meters and old as 1,000 years old. Eating lunch hear was almost surreal. It seems as if you are surrounded by snow, but it´s really just tons and tons of salt. More photos in the web album.
ALL GOOD DREAMS MUST COME TO AN END
After our trek through we stopped by the train graveyard, which wasnt too much to see. The train rememnants were those left over from around the 1850s when the spanish used to export materials out to sea through the northern coast of Chile.
Once we arrived in Uyuni the real fun began. Jose, our nineteen year old driver found my passport and handed it over to the office official, along with two numbers to call to get my visa...neither number worked. Apparently there is no translation needed for the look I gave her, which was probably something to the tune of ¨if we don´t get my visa today Im going to bury you in the salt flats.¨ After about ten tries she finally got through and the visa was taken care of with relative ease. Its pretty by the way, the bolivian visa, but not worth $135 by any means.
As I was now free to move throughout the country and ready to get the hell out of Uyuni, I met up with some of my fellow desert trekkers and we went to book a night bus to La Paz. The news wasn´t good: police and army had closed the already poor roads due to rain. Having no other options we booked our tickets for the following morning and were told to check back in around 7pm in case something opens up.
Nothing opened up, but that didnt seem to matter. We were told to meet at a sketchy gas station outside of town to bypass the road block and that we would be leaving tonight. By now I am traveling with two ladies from Bolivia and we were eager to get to La Paz so we went. Upon our departure I noticed the police were there, though they left after about fifteen minutes. I assume they took a bribe.
Turns out we probably shouldnt have left. I think we crossed at least three rivers. Not on bridges, actually going through the rivers. One of them was at least 30m long and another had trucks washed up in the river bed. Our bus broke down twice and stopped a third time. The additional stop was after crossing a river, hitting a hole, and the bus tossing back and forth at about 45 degree angle, so close to tipping over. The bus behind us saw this and slowed down, then got stuck in the riverbed. They had to evacuate the bus at 5am, build fires and wait for another bus. We made our 300 mile journey in 18 hours and the group that got stuck took 25, so it was bad but could have been a lot worse. If there is a hell, Id imagine it something close to this.
LA PAZ
In all fairness, I dont think I gave it enough time. After the delayed bus ride and spending a bit too long in Chile, I only had two days for La Paz and two more for La Titicaca. The city is visually astonishing as its over 10,000 ft high and essentially built into mountainsides. There is one main road that is relatively flat and all the others go uphill from there. The city itself doesnt have too terribly much to offer. By day it is really just one big open air market, everybody is selling everything. So much so that it seems supermarkets dont really exist in the city center. There isnt too much in the way of culture, except for the Coca Museum, which I visited and burshed up on my history of the coca leaf and its popular byproduct: cocaine. The food was rather mediocre as well. That said, the one upside is that its absurdly cheap. A night in a basic hotel was about $6US. I also bought a swiss army night (though not brand name) for $3.50. It was nice to live in a place where everything was so cheap and I feel as if I had stayed longer I could have appreciated it more. รง
OH THOSE BEAUTIFUL BOLIVIAN WOMEN...
Not so much. I think its the altitude but they kind of resemble cupcakes. High cheek bones, a low center of gravity, and a bit of a waddle...not really a recipe for attraction. I do like their traditional garb though and hope to have a picture of it up soon.
THE CRIME SIDE
Although I felt relatively safe Bolivia still has a lot of work to do in terms of security. A few things that might startle foreigners are the shoe shine boys and taxis. The shoe shine boys were ski masks and hats to completely cover their face and most taxi/buses are old school VW type vans. When the buses come by, someone opens the door quickly and starts screaming out the destinations. If you put the two of those together, it seems like a great recipe for an express kidnapping (where they take you hostage until you draw as much money out of the ATM as you can). Come to think of it, those vans look an awful lot like the one the terrorists used in Back to the Future, so youve got that to worry about too.
One side note: Bolivia really appears to be a country without consequences. I used to feel the same about Argentina and sort of still do, but at least Argentina maintains the illusion of consequnces. Its well know to travelers where you need to go to buy all sorts of illegal contraband, including dynamite. There´s also a pretty famous prison just outside la paz, filled with all sorts of violent criminals, that is known for its cocaine production. You can take a very unofficial tour of this prison, ending with a sample of their product...I passed.
NOT QUITE THE HOTTEST PLACE SOUTH OF HAVANNA
Ok, so my man Barry was probably singing about the one in Rio, but Brazil´s Copacabana was actually named after Bolivia´s, though Im not quite sure why. The Copa was nice, though much smaller than I invisioned. There´s a hill overlooking the lake where I caught a beautiful sunset. The next day I headed to Isla del Sol, where I planned to spend the night. The island gets its name from the Incas as they thought the sun was born from there (again, not sure why as the sun neither rises nor sets over it). I had planned to spend the night on the island for a change of scenery, but this too was quite small. My friends and I arrived around 10am and hiked our way across the island in a few hours, returning around 5pm.
On our return trip we stopped by the floating island, which was one of the bigger tourist traps Id ever seen. There are apparently some real floating islands on the other side of the lake, the Peruvian side. In Peru, people apparently live on these man made floating islands. In Bolivia, they dont even make it look like they are trying. You can see the wooden bouys below the straw and a big sign saying WELCOME TO LAKE TITIHUANA (in English!). It was pretty funny as everyone on our boat was fed up with tourist traps and didnt go on the island (as we knew admission would be charged)
In sum, Im not really sure how I feel about Bolivia, said that it was exhausting. Its great in that its really cheap, but terrible and that people nickel and dime you for everything! Id rather pay 20% more than having to pay a dollar to step on the island, fifty cents to use the bathroom, a quarter for toilet paper, etc. That said, I do feel like I rushed it and would like to return at some point. My visa is good for five years so who knows.
Terribly sorry, my web albums cant make it up today. The computers here in Cusco are terribly slow so it will probably have to wait until next weekend in Lima.
AM I DREAMING?
The third day of our trek through the desert we reached the much awaited destination: the salt flats of Uyuni. 12,000 km in area and up to 10m deep, this ancient dried out lake is a site for the ages. Most of the fun we had was with depth perception, since you are surrounded by white, putting things/objects in the background can make them seem smaller. For example:
A picture that appears if GoGo Jonas and I are shrunk and holding up Adam.
We also had a little bit of fun with this one:
A little Angel and Devil on the shoulder
This last one doesnt quite capture it all the way as I was at the wrong angle with the sun, but it almost appears if Im free falling.
We also stopped by the Isla de Pescados (Fish Island), smack in the middle of the salt flats. It gets its name in that it´s shaped like a fish if viewed from above. It´s most known for its cacti, some as high as 16 meters and old as 1,000 years old. Eating lunch hear was almost surreal. It seems as if you are surrounded by snow, but it´s really just tons and tons of salt. More photos in the web album.
ALL GOOD DREAMS MUST COME TO AN END
After our trek through we stopped by the train graveyard, which wasnt too much to see. The train rememnants were those left over from around the 1850s when the spanish used to export materials out to sea through the northern coast of Chile.
Once we arrived in Uyuni the real fun began. Jose, our nineteen year old driver found my passport and handed it over to the office official, along with two numbers to call to get my visa...neither number worked. Apparently there is no translation needed for the look I gave her, which was probably something to the tune of ¨if we don´t get my visa today Im going to bury you in the salt flats.¨ After about ten tries she finally got through and the visa was taken care of with relative ease. Its pretty by the way, the bolivian visa, but not worth $135 by any means.
As I was now free to move throughout the country and ready to get the hell out of Uyuni, I met up with some of my fellow desert trekkers and we went to book a night bus to La Paz. The news wasn´t good: police and army had closed the already poor roads due to rain. Having no other options we booked our tickets for the following morning and were told to check back in around 7pm in case something opens up.
Nothing opened up, but that didnt seem to matter. We were told to meet at a sketchy gas station outside of town to bypass the road block and that we would be leaving tonight. By now I am traveling with two ladies from Bolivia and we were eager to get to La Paz so we went. Upon our departure I noticed the police were there, though they left after about fifteen minutes. I assume they took a bribe.
Turns out we probably shouldnt have left. I think we crossed at least three rivers. Not on bridges, actually going through the rivers. One of them was at least 30m long and another had trucks washed up in the river bed. Our bus broke down twice and stopped a third time. The additional stop was after crossing a river, hitting a hole, and the bus tossing back and forth at about 45 degree angle, so close to tipping over. The bus behind us saw this and slowed down, then got stuck in the riverbed. They had to evacuate the bus at 5am, build fires and wait for another bus. We made our 300 mile journey in 18 hours and the group that got stuck took 25, so it was bad but could have been a lot worse. If there is a hell, Id imagine it something close to this.
LA PAZ
In all fairness, I dont think I gave it enough time. After the delayed bus ride and spending a bit too long in Chile, I only had two days for La Paz and two more for La Titicaca. The city is visually astonishing as its over 10,000 ft high and essentially built into mountainsides. There is one main road that is relatively flat and all the others go uphill from there. The city itself doesnt have too terribly much to offer. By day it is really just one big open air market, everybody is selling everything. So much so that it seems supermarkets dont really exist in the city center. There isnt too much in the way of culture, except for the Coca Museum, which I visited and burshed up on my history of the coca leaf and its popular byproduct: cocaine. The food was rather mediocre as well. That said, the one upside is that its absurdly cheap. A night in a basic hotel was about $6US. I also bought a swiss army night (though not brand name) for $3.50. It was nice to live in a place where everything was so cheap and I feel as if I had stayed longer I could have appreciated it more. รง
OH THOSE BEAUTIFUL BOLIVIAN WOMEN...
Not so much. I think its the altitude but they kind of resemble cupcakes. High cheek bones, a low center of gravity, and a bit of a waddle...not really a recipe for attraction. I do like their traditional garb though and hope to have a picture of it up soon.
THE CRIME SIDE
Although I felt relatively safe Bolivia still has a lot of work to do in terms of security. A few things that might startle foreigners are the shoe shine boys and taxis. The shoe shine boys were ski masks and hats to completely cover their face and most taxi/buses are old school VW type vans. When the buses come by, someone opens the door quickly and starts screaming out the destinations. If you put the two of those together, it seems like a great recipe for an express kidnapping (where they take you hostage until you draw as much money out of the ATM as you can). Come to think of it, those vans look an awful lot like the one the terrorists used in Back to the Future, so youve got that to worry about too.
One side note: Bolivia really appears to be a country without consequences. I used to feel the same about Argentina and sort of still do, but at least Argentina maintains the illusion of consequnces. Its well know to travelers where you need to go to buy all sorts of illegal contraband, including dynamite. There´s also a pretty famous prison just outside la paz, filled with all sorts of violent criminals, that is known for its cocaine production. You can take a very unofficial tour of this prison, ending with a sample of their product...I passed.
NOT QUITE THE HOTTEST PLACE SOUTH OF HAVANNA
Ok, so my man Barry was probably singing about the one in Rio, but Brazil´s Copacabana was actually named after Bolivia´s, though Im not quite sure why. The Copa was nice, though much smaller than I invisioned. There´s a hill overlooking the lake where I caught a beautiful sunset. The next day I headed to Isla del Sol, where I planned to spend the night. The island gets its name from the Incas as they thought the sun was born from there (again, not sure why as the sun neither rises nor sets over it). I had planned to spend the night on the island for a change of scenery, but this too was quite small. My friends and I arrived around 10am and hiked our way across the island in a few hours, returning around 5pm.
On our return trip we stopped by the floating island, which was one of the bigger tourist traps Id ever seen. There are apparently some real floating islands on the other side of the lake, the Peruvian side. In Peru, people apparently live on these man made floating islands. In Bolivia, they dont even make it look like they are trying. You can see the wooden bouys below the straw and a big sign saying WELCOME TO LAKE TITIHUANA (in English!). It was pretty funny as everyone on our boat was fed up with tourist traps and didnt go on the island (as we knew admission would be charged)
In sum, Im not really sure how I feel about Bolivia, said that it was exhausting. Its great in that its really cheap, but terrible and that people nickel and dime you for everything! Id rather pay 20% more than having to pay a dollar to step on the island, fifty cents to use the bathroom, a quarter for toilet paper, etc. That said, I do feel like I rushed it and would like to return at some point. My visa is good for five years so who knows.
Terribly sorry, my web albums cant make it up today. The computers here in Cusco are terribly slow so it will probably have to wait until next weekend in Lima.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Bye bye Southern American Pie
Im officially north! Or at least in the middle.
LA SALIDA
Argentina didnt want to let me leave without two final kicks to the nards. I was heading to San Pedro de Atacama, in northern chile, and its a relatively small destination. I went to the bus station early that morning to get cash and my ticket, so as not to have to wait two more days. Five cash machines later, I finally had the money. An hour and a half later, I fortunately had my ticket.
Fast forward to the next day. Six hours into the trip, just before the Chilean border, a small town- of maybe 100 people- decides to protest lord knows what and shuts down the highway. One hour delay, but really not too bad.
SAN PEDRO DE ATACAMA
Is really a cool town. Nothing is more than a story high and the population is only abour 4000. Its supported almost completely by tourism, meaning there were some great things to do and great places to eat. As we couldnt find any hostels online, we rolled the dice and waited until we cleared customs. They came up seven. Our group of three managed to multiply to eleven and we filled out Marcelinos hostel. It wasnt until later that we found out that Marcelino was a former high level body guard with knowledge of several types of martial arts. We decided to celebrate all of our various discoveries with an asado and more than a few cervezas. If youre looking through my web album (title: chile and bolivian salt flats) you may seem strange pictures, these were all from a fun drinking game we played called 13. Ill save the details for later and will probably teach many upon my return. It was just such a highlight as we had people from columbia, chile, norway, south africa, ireland, and switzerland all playing, making it quite the multicultural affair.
There was a group of five of us, though, that stuck together for the next few days. Two girls from Norway, one from Ireland, and a guy from South Africa. The following day we did an excursion to the Valley of Death (unfortunately not as cool as it sounds) and the Valley of the Moon for a sunset. Also not as great as expected, but still a nice excursion. The next evening we had Marcelino take us to one of his familiar spots, thermal baths about 30km outside the city. The waters were warmed by a nearby volcano and we couldnt stay more than a few hours due to the sulfur. We did, however, make use of our time, even if the water wasnt as hot as we wanted (about 75f).
SALT FLATS
The next morning we started on our three day, four by four excursion through the bolivian salt flats. I knew I was in for an adventure when I had to hand by passport over to bolivian customs. Americans require a visa (i now hate the word reciprocity) and Bolivia doesnt trust its border officals with the $135US I needed to pay. Therefore, my passport was put into a rather unofficial looking package and turned over to the care of our rather unoffical 19 year old guide, Jose. Three days and twenty blood pressure points later I was to get it back in Uyuni where the visa could be processed.
Nonetheless, we proceeded with out journey as planned. As I mentioned before, there were five of us, but the jeep needed six. We picked up one more random guy, a brazilian named Jonas. It proved not only a good chance for me to practice my portuguese but also a ton of fun. We traveled in a caravan of three jeeps. Not that it really mattered, one breakdown and we were screwed, this was complete desert. Every so often we stopped off at a laguna, there was the white one and the green one. The white one almost purely reflected the sky, while the green one changed colors from blue to teal as we watched (check it out in the photos). We also stopped at more thermal baths (this time about 95f) which was warmly welcomed, pun intended. Our main stop was the geysers, which were not only magnificent and dangerous, but also marked the maximum altitude of our journey at 4900m (over 15000 ft). A few shrubs was all the flora and the fauna was little more than pink flamengos and vicunas, a cousin of the deer. We ended our day at the colored lake, which was a sulfur red, full of flamengos and surrounded by llamas. Everyone was a bit shocked at a 7pm dinner time (about 3 hours earlier than we were used to) and the fact that we were at a campground with nothing else to do. Solution: cards.
The next day was more grueling than eventful. 280 km (about 168 miles) through the desert is no simple task. Id even hesitate to call this off roading because that would imply that at some point there was a road. Our first stop was the Arbol de piedra (Rock Tree) which was cool to see, but there was little else to do. We followed that with a trip through three of four lagunas, which we were a bit sick of by the end as there isn{t much to distinguish them. The last stop was an active volcano before we raced a storm to our next nights habitat.
I feel it necessary to mention that two days in the desert can take its tole on people. You can see many examples of this in my photos as we tried to spice up our sand and rock surroundings. We also started to create our own fun in other ways. The brazilian I mentioned earlier, Jonas, didnt speak much english. As he was hurrying us for a picture he said GO GO! and thus the name GoGo Jonas was born. We all ended up with nicknames by the end, mine was West Virginia (john denver is too damn popular internationally). Our team name was GoGo Jonas and can be seen extched into our jeep in various photos. More fun was had than should have been. It was like one of those times you cant stop laughing at something that isnt too funny and it was great. It was probably a good thing we pulled into our hotel when we did as who knows how far it would have gone.
When I say hotel I really mean basic accomadation. But after two days in the desert, even the mildy hot shower could have convenced every guest it was 5 star lodging. The other cool thing about the hotel was the inside was made completely out of salt. The walls were salt bricks, the floor was covered in salt and the tables and chairs were also compacted salt. Fun, novel, and suprisingly comfortable. Though I guess after the grueling day we had, a bed of nails would have been welcomed with open arms.
Day 3 was the big day, the salt flats. Unfortunately I havent uploaded my pictures from here yet, and in this case mroe than every, a picture really is worth a thousand words. Therefore, the story will have to end here and be continued within a week.
If youve made it this far, today is March 10th and Im hoping to have the photos and the second half up by the 16th. I also dont have time to inbed pictures right now but will hopefully go back and put some in by the 16th. Until then, Ill try to label a few on my web album to give a better sense of direction (they are all mixed).
LA SALIDA
Argentina didnt want to let me leave without two final kicks to the nards. I was heading to San Pedro de Atacama, in northern chile, and its a relatively small destination. I went to the bus station early that morning to get cash and my ticket, so as not to have to wait two more days. Five cash machines later, I finally had the money. An hour and a half later, I fortunately had my ticket.
Fast forward to the next day. Six hours into the trip, just before the Chilean border, a small town- of maybe 100 people- decides to protest lord knows what and shuts down the highway. One hour delay, but really not too bad.
SAN PEDRO DE ATACAMA
Is really a cool town. Nothing is more than a story high and the population is only abour 4000. Its supported almost completely by tourism, meaning there were some great things to do and great places to eat. As we couldnt find any hostels online, we rolled the dice and waited until we cleared customs. They came up seven. Our group of three managed to multiply to eleven and we filled out Marcelinos hostel. It wasnt until later that we found out that Marcelino was a former high level body guard with knowledge of several types of martial arts. We decided to celebrate all of our various discoveries with an asado and more than a few cervezas. If youre looking through my web album (title: chile and bolivian salt flats) you may seem strange pictures, these were all from a fun drinking game we played called 13. Ill save the details for later and will probably teach many upon my return. It was just such a highlight as we had people from columbia, chile, norway, south africa, ireland, and switzerland all playing, making it quite the multicultural affair.
There was a group of five of us, though, that stuck together for the next few days. Two girls from Norway, one from Ireland, and a guy from South Africa. The following day we did an excursion to the Valley of Death (unfortunately not as cool as it sounds) and the Valley of the Moon for a sunset. Also not as great as expected, but still a nice excursion. The next evening we had Marcelino take us to one of his familiar spots, thermal baths about 30km outside the city. The waters were warmed by a nearby volcano and we couldnt stay more than a few hours due to the sulfur. We did, however, make use of our time, even if the water wasnt as hot as we wanted (about 75f).
SALT FLATS
The next morning we started on our three day, four by four excursion through the bolivian salt flats. I knew I was in for an adventure when I had to hand by passport over to bolivian customs. Americans require a visa (i now hate the word reciprocity) and Bolivia doesnt trust its border officals with the $135US I needed to pay. Therefore, my passport was put into a rather unofficial looking package and turned over to the care of our rather unoffical 19 year old guide, Jose. Three days and twenty blood pressure points later I was to get it back in Uyuni where the visa could be processed.
Nonetheless, we proceeded with out journey as planned. As I mentioned before, there were five of us, but the jeep needed six. We picked up one more random guy, a brazilian named Jonas. It proved not only a good chance for me to practice my portuguese but also a ton of fun. We traveled in a caravan of three jeeps. Not that it really mattered, one breakdown and we were screwed, this was complete desert. Every so often we stopped off at a laguna, there was the white one and the green one. The white one almost purely reflected the sky, while the green one changed colors from blue to teal as we watched (check it out in the photos). We also stopped at more thermal baths (this time about 95f) which was warmly welcomed, pun intended. Our main stop was the geysers, which were not only magnificent and dangerous, but also marked the maximum altitude of our journey at 4900m (over 15000 ft). A few shrubs was all the flora and the fauna was little more than pink flamengos and vicunas, a cousin of the deer. We ended our day at the colored lake, which was a sulfur red, full of flamengos and surrounded by llamas. Everyone was a bit shocked at a 7pm dinner time (about 3 hours earlier than we were used to) and the fact that we were at a campground with nothing else to do. Solution: cards.
The next day was more grueling than eventful. 280 km (about 168 miles) through the desert is no simple task. Id even hesitate to call this off roading because that would imply that at some point there was a road. Our first stop was the Arbol de piedra (Rock Tree) which was cool to see, but there was little else to do. We followed that with a trip through three of four lagunas, which we were a bit sick of by the end as there isn{t much to distinguish them. The last stop was an active volcano before we raced a storm to our next nights habitat.
I feel it necessary to mention that two days in the desert can take its tole on people. You can see many examples of this in my photos as we tried to spice up our sand and rock surroundings. We also started to create our own fun in other ways. The brazilian I mentioned earlier, Jonas, didnt speak much english. As he was hurrying us for a picture he said GO GO! and thus the name GoGo Jonas was born. We all ended up with nicknames by the end, mine was West Virginia (john denver is too damn popular internationally). Our team name was GoGo Jonas and can be seen extched into our jeep in various photos. More fun was had than should have been. It was like one of those times you cant stop laughing at something that isnt too funny and it was great. It was probably a good thing we pulled into our hotel when we did as who knows how far it would have gone.
When I say hotel I really mean basic accomadation. But after two days in the desert, even the mildy hot shower could have convenced every guest it was 5 star lodging. The other cool thing about the hotel was the inside was made completely out of salt. The walls were salt bricks, the floor was covered in salt and the tables and chairs were also compacted salt. Fun, novel, and suprisingly comfortable. Though I guess after the grueling day we had, a bed of nails would have been welcomed with open arms.
Day 3 was the big day, the salt flats. Unfortunately I havent uploaded my pictures from here yet, and in this case mroe than every, a picture really is worth a thousand words. Therefore, the story will have to end here and be continued within a week.
If youve made it this far, today is March 10th and Im hoping to have the photos and the second half up by the 16th. I also dont have time to inbed pictures right now but will hopefully go back and put some in by the 16th. Until then, Ill try to label a few on my web album to give a better sense of direction (they are all mixed).
Monday, March 2, 2009
The North
Dear Reader, I´ll say this only once: please keep in mind I´m on the road. I´ll probably only be able to post pictures once every few weeks or so, and even though I hope to update this at least once a week, who the hell knows. Also, given that chances are Im probably sweltering in a computer lab as locals are screaming at each other over some video game they are playing (like right now for example) please forgive the lack of editing.
That being said, it´s good to be back. Im not sure if it was the city or just feeling sedetary that made me feel as if my creativity was being stifled. Nothing gets the creative juices flowing like 90 degree heat and 100% humidity right?
TUCUMAN
I chose this as my starting off point as I had met someone from Tucuman on my last trip through europe. We kept in touch during my time in Buenos Aires and I promised her I would check out the north. Surprise surprise, when it came down to it and the ticket was booked, not a word from her. I wasnt looking for a hand out, a place to stay or anything of the like, perhaps just to meet up and grab a beer or something. She, however, went dumb over the last month and this never came to fruition. I really don´t mind as I managed to enjoy myself just fine in the city. It did, however, come to symbolize my impression of Argentina: unfulfilled promises. I´m speaking mainly in terms of people (not all of them) but suppose this could easily be applied to the government, economy, history, et al. I realize this may sound a bit bitter but I don´t really think of it in that way, it´s more of just putting things in there correct place. Knowing this will make it much easier when a local is a no show or doesnt do as they said. But I digress.
Tucuman is a big city with a small town feel. I enjoyed it as everybody seemed to be a bit more outdoorsy and healthy...lots of runners and many people on bikes. It was technically the first city in Argentina but it´s lack of museums could fool even the most historic-minded tourist. Nonetheless, it was a nice break after a 17 hour bus ride and gave me a little chance to unwind from big city life.
Getting away from the cities is kind of out there. Not quite as out there as the sheep farm, but close. At one of the bus stations I witnessed them syphoning off gas from one bus to the other. Not only that, but it appeared that this was such a common occurance that they built a ramp for one bus to back up onto. The next day I made my way up to Tafi del Valle, a town three hours north that would probably be described more as a lake with some houses around it instead of a town. As I still hadn´t shaken the rust off and come back into my own as a traveler, I wasnt willing to forge down to town to figure out what there was to do. The reasons for this were many as I was still stiff from the bus ride, lugging 60 lbs on my back, and there is very little info in guide books on this city. I decided instead to continue on to Cafayate after a two hour lunch break overlooking the lake.
Cafayate is the start of the northern wine country. It doesn´t have quite as good wine, nor the appeal of Mendoza, but is still worthy in it´s own right. They are actually known for their Torrentes there, a white wine that I can actually tolerate. Another fun part about the town is that one of their more entreprenuerial members decided to patent wine flavored ice cream. I tried both, the white and the red, and actually liked the white a little bit better as it was smoother. This, by the way, is no ¨hint of wine.¨ It´s in your face and packs a punch. I also managed to swing by a vineyard to take a tour and try some of their samples.
Also in Cafayate I took a tour of the Quebradas, a series of deserts and gorgers. Im not sure how to really place it in the US but some of it looked like Utah I guess. Some pretty amazing things that have been carved out by the elements, hopefully the pics will be up in a week or two. Somehow along the way we also managed to pick up a spaniard who was absolutely ridiculous. He was fifty years old and dressed in a salmon t shirt with wine bottles all over it, euro-short salmon shorts with goldfish (think peppridge farm) all over it, and salmon colored crocks. As I slowly work through who and what I never want to be, he helped me as I could check him off the list.
My last adventure in Cafayate was a trip to the waterfalls. Given that no excursions were offered from the hostel or guide book, I took this as a sign that I could do it solo. I should have known when the one hour trip there took 25% longer. I also should have known when the person signing people in said I should have a guide, but I thought he was blowing smoke up my ass and I was having none of it. The trail is about two hours each way and poorly marked. Not poorly marked as in ¨wow I can´t beleive there is only a sign every 400 meters¨ but poorly marked as in sometimes a machete could have been useful to help make your way through.
One of the most difficult parts was the river. I think I had to cross it about 25 times total, sometimes hopping on rocks, other times having to take off my shoes and wade through. Finally I just said screw it and went in with my boots on, which actually helped a lot more with traction. Between that, scaling rocks, walking along ledges 100ft up, and the sun beating down on me I learned my lesson. I also have several reminders of said lesson as it looks as if I got in a fight with a coked up cat. Highlight of the trek: getting lost on my way back and running into a ¨mountain boy¨ who guided me back to the trail. It sounds silly but this was literally like something out of Indiana Jones, I was dehydrated and delirious and this little shirtless boy comes out of the woodwork, bouncing off rocks like they were a flat surface. He seemed rather intrigued by me and was more than helpful, so I take it they don´t get too many yankees up in the mountains there.
One of the coolest parts thus far is getting complete use out of my spanish. Up in the north, at least right now, the only travelers are spanish speakers. I befriended two argentine ladies and their 3 year old son (who may have been the coolest three year old ever), a spanish chica, and several others. Days and nights were spent speaking spanish and I couldnt help but think how cool it was to be conversing amongst a group of people whose only similar trait was spanish. Random side note: speaking with a drunk argentine from tucuman who has a wad of coca leaf in his mouth is great practice...in patience if not spanish.
Im in Salta now but have spent more time preparing for the rest of my journey than appreciating the city, which Im ok with. I head out to San Pedro de Atacama tomorrow and Bolivia shortly thereafter. Hope to update from Bolivia but who knows what the internet will be like there.
That being said, it´s good to be back. Im not sure if it was the city or just feeling sedetary that made me feel as if my creativity was being stifled. Nothing gets the creative juices flowing like 90 degree heat and 100% humidity right?
TUCUMAN
I chose this as my starting off point as I had met someone from Tucuman on my last trip through europe. We kept in touch during my time in Buenos Aires and I promised her I would check out the north. Surprise surprise, when it came down to it and the ticket was booked, not a word from her. I wasnt looking for a hand out, a place to stay or anything of the like, perhaps just to meet up and grab a beer or something. She, however, went dumb over the last month and this never came to fruition. I really don´t mind as I managed to enjoy myself just fine in the city. It did, however, come to symbolize my impression of Argentina: unfulfilled promises. I´m speaking mainly in terms of people (not all of them) but suppose this could easily be applied to the government, economy, history, et al. I realize this may sound a bit bitter but I don´t really think of it in that way, it´s more of just putting things in there correct place. Knowing this will make it much easier when a local is a no show or doesnt do as they said. But I digress.
Tucuman is a big city with a small town feel. I enjoyed it as everybody seemed to be a bit more outdoorsy and healthy...lots of runners and many people on bikes. It was technically the first city in Argentina but it´s lack of museums could fool even the most historic-minded tourist. Nonetheless, it was a nice break after a 17 hour bus ride and gave me a little chance to unwind from big city life.
Getting away from the cities is kind of out there. Not quite as out there as the sheep farm, but close. At one of the bus stations I witnessed them syphoning off gas from one bus to the other. Not only that, but it appeared that this was such a common occurance that they built a ramp for one bus to back up onto. The next day I made my way up to Tafi del Valle, a town three hours north that would probably be described more as a lake with some houses around it instead of a town. As I still hadn´t shaken the rust off and come back into my own as a traveler, I wasnt willing to forge down to town to figure out what there was to do. The reasons for this were many as I was still stiff from the bus ride, lugging 60 lbs on my back, and there is very little info in guide books on this city. I decided instead to continue on to Cafayate after a two hour lunch break overlooking the lake.
Cafayate is the start of the northern wine country. It doesn´t have quite as good wine, nor the appeal of Mendoza, but is still worthy in it´s own right. They are actually known for their Torrentes there, a white wine that I can actually tolerate. Another fun part about the town is that one of their more entreprenuerial members decided to patent wine flavored ice cream. I tried both, the white and the red, and actually liked the white a little bit better as it was smoother. This, by the way, is no ¨hint of wine.¨ It´s in your face and packs a punch. I also managed to swing by a vineyard to take a tour and try some of their samples.
Also in Cafayate I took a tour of the Quebradas, a series of deserts and gorgers. Im not sure how to really place it in the US but some of it looked like Utah I guess. Some pretty amazing things that have been carved out by the elements, hopefully the pics will be up in a week or two. Somehow along the way we also managed to pick up a spaniard who was absolutely ridiculous. He was fifty years old and dressed in a salmon t shirt with wine bottles all over it, euro-short salmon shorts with goldfish (think peppridge farm) all over it, and salmon colored crocks. As I slowly work through who and what I never want to be, he helped me as I could check him off the list.
My last adventure in Cafayate was a trip to the waterfalls. Given that no excursions were offered from the hostel or guide book, I took this as a sign that I could do it solo. I should have known when the one hour trip there took 25% longer. I also should have known when the person signing people in said I should have a guide, but I thought he was blowing smoke up my ass and I was having none of it. The trail is about two hours each way and poorly marked. Not poorly marked as in ¨wow I can´t beleive there is only a sign every 400 meters¨ but poorly marked as in sometimes a machete could have been useful to help make your way through.
One of the most difficult parts was the river. I think I had to cross it about 25 times total, sometimes hopping on rocks, other times having to take off my shoes and wade through. Finally I just said screw it and went in with my boots on, which actually helped a lot more with traction. Between that, scaling rocks, walking along ledges 100ft up, and the sun beating down on me I learned my lesson. I also have several reminders of said lesson as it looks as if I got in a fight with a coked up cat. Highlight of the trek: getting lost on my way back and running into a ¨mountain boy¨ who guided me back to the trail. It sounds silly but this was literally like something out of Indiana Jones, I was dehydrated and delirious and this little shirtless boy comes out of the woodwork, bouncing off rocks like they were a flat surface. He seemed rather intrigued by me and was more than helpful, so I take it they don´t get too many yankees up in the mountains there.
One of the coolest parts thus far is getting complete use out of my spanish. Up in the north, at least right now, the only travelers are spanish speakers. I befriended two argentine ladies and their 3 year old son (who may have been the coolest three year old ever), a spanish chica, and several others. Days and nights were spent speaking spanish and I couldnt help but think how cool it was to be conversing amongst a group of people whose only similar trait was spanish. Random side note: speaking with a drunk argentine from tucuman who has a wad of coca leaf in his mouth is great practice...in patience if not spanish.
Im in Salta now but have spent more time preparing for the rest of my journey than appreciating the city, which Im ok with. I head out to San Pedro de Atacama tomorrow and Bolivia shortly thereafter. Hope to update from Bolivia but who knows what the internet will be like there.
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