Travels and Musings in South America

Bus Ride to Rurrenabaque

2009-04-30T08:51:00.000-07:00

A Little Reflection on the Road:

The bus ride to Rurrenabaque inspired mixed emotions. The breathtaking natural beauty grasped me as we descend into what seemed to be an infinite wilderness--an intimate and mystifying ride through the jungle. I thought it was an exciting and humorously extreme example of what traveling in Bolivia means, but some of the other passengers found the 18 hour cliff-hugging journey less than pleasant. The prospect of falling off the edge terrified them despite the incredibly low probability and relatively consistent safety record of the buses.

It's a New Species!

The most vexing aspect of my trip had nothing to do with the road, cliffs, or the bus. My company plagued my trip. Luck bestowed upon me a rotating roster of three incredibly overweight, unpleasant smelling, and territorially aggressive men. I would argue that they could be classified as amoebas or gelatinous creatures based on the way they settled into their surroundings. Their shape, first of all, encroaches upon neighboring environments simply by virtue of the size and composition of their bellies. These mountainous rolls of fat also force nearby appendages—as if by erosion—to invade the surrounding lowlands. I, a relative molehill, found myself vying desperately simply to maintain possession of a fraction of my allotted space. I positioned myself strategically in order that the encroaching mass would make first contact with a protruding elbow or knee. Unfortunately, even my palisade of armaments generally failed to hold the ever-flowing masses at bay. How exactly chance placed me in their company, I cannot explain

Gluttony's True Form:

The most disgusting and despicable aspect of this incarnation of gluttony and ego-centrism was encompassed in a single uncharacteristically swift and decisive stroke. He took the plastic wrapping of his fatty Bolivian cornbread loaf and pitched it across my face, out the window, and into the pristine rain forests below. The bag meandered on a slight breeze, fighting its impending descent. The bag, a monstrosity, extracted from nature in order to deliver a bit of its own flesh and blood to a similarly monstrous consumer, wandered down into the basin with disdain. Monica, my guide in Coroico had told me about wealthy Bolivian tourists, and their apathy for the preservation of the local environment. Seeing this for myself filled me with violent anger that was difficult to repress. I simply stared in disgust, and thought of how the refuse of the wealthy constantly plague the poor. The story is the same everywhere.

The Gelatinous Embodiments of Bolivia's Present and Future:

A fleeting glimpse of hope taunted me at our first stop when my blob-like neighbor grabbed his pack and headed out; however another of his kind immediately replaced him, and I once again found myself trapped between the alluring beauty of the scenery and the struggle to avoid consumption by the replacement amoeba. This second turned into a third, and my 18 hour trip was a restless struggle. Ebeneezer Scrooge deserved his torment, what the hell did I do? My only guess is that I wasn't grotesque enough for the bus ride, and it was trying to teach me to embrace the gluttony that was literally surrounding me. My luck with buses hasn't been great... but I'll reflect on that more after my trip. For now, I'm focusing more on the excitement of seeing bananas and cocao in their natural habitats.

La Paz

2009-04-16T06:34:00.000-07:00

Bussing into La Paz:

From Uyuni, I decided to head straight into La Paz. I wanted a place where I could settle for a while without having to worry about the nagging daily needs that constantly arise in small towns. Most places in Bolivia don’t even provide toilet paper. A responsible traveler always plans to have their own roll on them. I’ve found carrying it generally very convenient. Toilet paper is a cheap and effective substitute for several different things that usually aren’t worth lugging around individually. Douglas Adams emphasizes always having a towel in the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, I’d always recommend toilet paper. Times have changed. The small and multifunctional is in right now—just look at the iphone’s success. Hopefully in the future i-products will incorporate toilet paper functionality.

World Cup Soccer in La Paz:

I had planned to lay low in La Paz while adjusting to the altitude and preparing for the impending string of future travels. This didn’t quite work out. I ran into the Danish girls again at the hostel I stayed at and ended up making plans similar to theirs. On the third day in town we attended a World Cup qualifying match between Bolivia and Argentina. We expected Argentina to win handily, being arguably the best team in the world. This was not the case. I don't know whether the altitude took its toll on the Argentines or if the difference boiled down to passion. Bolivia embarrassed the visiting Argentines and their fans 5-1 if I recall correctly. The Bolivians must have felt really good about this match, especially since a lot of Argentines are really racist against South American's indigenous population. It’s always nice to see arrogance undermined.

Getting to Know the City:

The other days I spent wandering the streets and markets with several different people I met. I went to 3 different embassies with people working out passports and lost credit cards. Only the Dutch embassy actually allowed me inside. I don’t know what embassy entrance policies have been in the past, but I found the nearly-universal paranoia hilarious. Fortunately, the weather was great and I didn’t mind wandering around getting to know the city. By the recommendations a lot of other travelers we decided to leave La Paz the next day VIA bicycle.

The World’s Most Dangerous Road

I booked with the Danish girls on a downhill bike trip on “The World’s Most Dangerous Road.” Although formerly the most dangerous road, claiming about 150 lives per year, this cliff-hugging freefall became much safer when closed to public traffic. Now, only about one careless biker per year goes careening down into the rusty vehicle graveyards below. The road is, however, still one of the world’s most beautiful. During the day we descended about three vertical kilometers, and rode from among chilly, jagged-peaked cloud forests down into the sweltering Amazon basin. The road weaves right through waterfalls, hangs over dizzying vertical drops, and reveals some incredible views of dynamic mountainous rainforest. We actually booked with the cheapest tour group, paying about $40 for the trip rather than the $100 that some other agencies try to charge. The expensive agencies claim to be safer… but with one death a year on the road, we assumed we could afford to be stingy. We were right. We didn’t die. I feel good about my cheap choice.

Ending in Coroico and Meeting New Company:

We ended the trip in the town of Coroico. The town doesn’t appear to offer anything interesting, but I happened to talk to a local Bolivian girl who was studying tourism at a university in La Paz. She wanted to show me around, practice her English, and get used to making the area sound interesting. She didn’t have to try too hard. Meandering around a mountainside over three huge waterfalls overlooking the jungle and coca farming villages left little to be desired.

Some Interesting Stuff:

We happened upon a flood giant red ants moving with incredible purpose. Clumps 20 ants wide that appeared like a flowing red and black network of rivers weaved their way across the path into the hills. Monica explained that they were fleeing from impending rain, and that normally they move slowly in single lines like the ants we’re used to in the USA. She also explained that although they have been deadly to people under extreme circumstances, the village is fortunate when they move through the

houses. In their flight they clear out all of the other insect life that infests the houses, leaving them spotless in the few minutes during which they pass. The experience was fantastic and unique. I ended up spending two nights and three days which were filled with entertainment and information. I ran into a group I’d met in San Pedro de Atacama at a hostel and travelled with them deeper into the Amazon, to the town of Rurrenabaque.

Crossing From San Pedro, Chile to Uyuni, Bolivia

2009-04-14T09:26:00.000-07:00

The Morning of the Departure:

I ended up booking my trip to Uyuni without anyone that I’d met in San Pedro or in other places during my travels. There were 17 people in our caravan none of whom I knew. I knew a few of the people in just about all of the other groups leaving on similar trips, just no one in mine. It may sound like this was unlucky—that it might make for a lonely trip—but I found that among other less-than-pleasant people, my incredibly talkative acquaintance, Kim, was traveling in one of the other groups. Rosemary is right, things really do seem to happen in 3’s for Italians, so maybe this will my last encounter with him. He happened upon me as I waited for my jeep in the logical place: on the street in front of the travel agency. Kim kept trying to convince me that a jeep clearly marked and parked by a different agency must be mine and that I should jump aboard the random vehicle trusting blind luck. Call me crazy, but I’ll take logic over uneducated impulse nine times out of ten. I spent the time until my jeep came trying to explain to Kim why that didn’t make sense and why he should stop urging me in that direction. My attempts were fruitless. He persisted until his own jeep came and relieved me of his adamant company. My jeep arrived shortly after. I boarded and waited for the rest of the group who were almost all running very late. Apparently, although Kim’s decoy jeep failed to fool me, the group of Danish girls that delayed our group had taken the bait. We had to wait for the drivers to balance out the incorrectly distributed masses before we could head on our way.

The Group:

Meeting the people on the trip was interesting, a random gathering of strangely compatible people. There were two British women, a German couple, three Dutch guys on their gap year, another Dutch girl who had a disaster involving a lost passport, an Australian couple, me, and the four Danish girls in my jeep. Our first stop was at the Chilean/Bolivian border. I was the only one treated badly (being American), they have a special procedure for Americans where they take your passport away and send you out of the building for half an hour… just so that you can return and be told that they process your information inside the border at immigration offices. I can’t imagine a better way to start a trip than dealing with a bunch of rude, curt, purposeless, and presumptive Bolivian militia. This, however, was just about the only time I was treated badly in Bolivia.

The Sights:

After the border, the stops can be summed up as a lot of small lakes with salt or mineral deposits that made them appear various colors: Laguna Blanca, Laguna Verde, Laguna Colorada and plenty of others. Although they were interesting and beautiful at first, 2 days of lake visits really did get a little boring. We witnessed flamingos and llamas in their natural habitats, but just like the lakes they got less and less remarkable as the trip continued. We changed scenery only on occasion, taking breaks to check out some irregular rock formations and other scenery that offered a bit of variety. We mixed things up by climbing rocks and finding other ways to exert ourselves when we had the opportunity to get out of the jeeps. Fortunately we were able to pass the less interesting time in good company.

The Salt Flats:

The third day highlighted the trip nicely. The night before, they drove us out to the flats so we could look at the stars and pointed out some traditional Bolivian constellations (I think they probably made them up and simply use them to dazzle tourists). Since there was virtually no light and only a thin layer of atmosphere between us and the sky, the Milky Way formed a perfectly thick and obvious line all the way across the sky, and the patchy light created by nearby galaxies illuminated large blotches in the star-speckled sky. After a great night’s sleep, we arose at 5:30 AM to watch the sun rise on the salt flats. The rest of the day was a long drive across salt, NaCl, and sodium chloride, with lots of stops on the pristine, glistening flat lands.

We did the usual salt flat activities: lifting jeeps, standing on soap boxes, and threw in a few originals as well. The perfectly flat, featureless ground creates a depth-less canvas where everything appears 2-dimensional. After some photo sessions and short visits to the nearby sites we headed to the town at the end of our journey.

We arrived in Uyuni, a small town where there was no choice but to constantly run into each other during our planning of other trips. Inevitably a few of us ended up heading the same direction. There is a lot to be said about the people I met, and what it means to be an American abroad… but I’ll save that for later. The short version is that I met a lot of people, had a lot of great times, and saw some incredible things. I can’t wait to travel in the near future when I’ll have more money at my disposal to do other trips of this sort.

San Pedro de Atacama, Chile

2009-04-02T05:29:00.000-07:00

The First Day and Night in San Pedro de Atacama:

I took the same bus from Salta to San Pedro de Atacama as a few other people I met in the hostel, but I didn't end up hanging out with them when I got there. The hostels in San Pedro were generally expensive and offered very little, so I walked around town for a few hours without finding anything that appealed. Eventually my mind asked the 'why the hell not?' question, and I walked about 3 miles out of town amongst the dunes and set up camp for the night. The sunset bathed the oasis and surrounding mountains in a rich assortment of colors and left the desert pitch black only a short time after it began to settle on the horizon.

Only short bursts of intense wind accelerating over the dunes disturbed the silent calm of the Atacama. I took time to just lay back and stare at the stars, the only visible light anywhere. We humans tend to think of shelter as a way of securing ourselves from the harshness of the natural world, but just as often we close ourselves off from the inspiring beauty that only nature can accomplish. Although not staying in the over-priced hostels that the others from the Salta crew settled for severed a few ties, I managed to take an incredibly new and refreshing experience from my decision. I woke up and hiked back into town early in the morning before anyone might happen upon a tent nestled amongst the dunes.

Cycling Around San Pedro

The Valley of the Moon:

After arriving in town I rented a bike for the day and set out on an ambitious journey. I brought food and water to last the day and left San Pedro with a map that looked like (and functioned like) a piece of 'art' drawn by a 5-year-old using Microsoft Paint. The road on the "map" persisted where the actual road jogged, a left curve drawn as a right bend. The mountains were valleys, the forks were spoons, and I ended up navigating the sights blindly. At least the terrible cartography encouraged side-excursions into unmarked, but interesting looking canyons and trails.

After finding a few cool, tucked-away places, I arrived at the aptly named Valley of the Moon. It appeared in a vastly different place than was marked on the "map"... about 5km and a full 90 degree curve before the marked location. It was, however, quite a sight. The salt that surfaced as a result of the recent rain made the small mountain range appear like a lunar landscape.

The Valley of the Nothing:

Leaving the Valley of the Moon was incredibly disappointing. I decided to continue on the circle as it was marked on the terrible abstraction that the rental company called a "map." I was supposed to see 'The Three Marias," a cave in the mountains, and meet up with the main road shortly after. What I actually saw were 3 rocks that didn't prompt a second look, a hole in the wall that didn't even provide shade at it's furthest end, and a whole hell of a lot of nothing. So I ended up biking in a desert valley for 2 hours and back over the mountain range with the most interesting sight being my hands perceptibly turning more red. The area was about as dry and visually stimulating as this part of this post. Either way, 39 kilometers later I had completed the loop having seen a few unmarked canyons, the Valley of the Moon, and a lot of rocks in varying sizes and degrees of fineness.

La Quebrada del Diablo:

Having completed the days recommended amount of riding, I of course decided to keep going. The road continued to the Devil's Ravine. A long road nestled between rock walls that sometimes towered beyond sight. The road was narrower than an average American at its narrowest, shorter than an average Bolivian at its shortest, and as awesome as the average me at its most awesome. It was an interesting thing to take a bike through, being bikable for about 90% of it's 5km (estimated) length. The only sounds that echoed through the tight rock formations were those of my rickety bike, and an occasional falling stone.

Devil's Cave, and the River from the Oasis:

An unremarkable archaeological site lay further up the road along the river that flowed out of the oasis. Pictures were not taken. Pictures were not deserved. The surroundings and river were far more impressive. Take that, mankind. Your overly-glorified achievements once again pale in comparison to the natural beauty you destroy in order to "create."

Backtracking from there was the only way to get back to town, and I barely managed to fit in the last stop on the map before sunset. La Cueva del Diablo(another inspiring and unique name...). Nestled way up on the mountainside, the cave was an interesting thing to bike through, turning pitch black for the majority of the ride through. The hillside on the other end provided a pretty remarkable view of several drastically different environments. From that height it was easy to see the river bed; the dry desert mountains; and the snow covered dormant volcanoes of the Andean Altiplano.

The Daily Totals:

Returning to town was a quick, mostly downhill journey. I had some nice, cheap Chilean food as recommended by a local man (it pays to speak Spanish), and checked into the cheapest hostel I could find. I managed to do virtually everything on the map, covering about double the distance that the rental agency recommended. I paid the difference in sunburns, since deserts really don't offer much shade.

Kilometers Biked: 96
Hours With Bike: 13
Bananas Eaten: 4
Liters of Water Drunk: 4
Percentage of Body Sunburned: 50
Total Expenses (bike, housing, food): US $22

Sand boarding on the Dunes:

After taking it easy the next day, I went out to the dunes to try out sand boarding.

I didn't stay out long on account of tiring trips back to the top of the dunes, uncomfortable heat, and a general disappointment in the amount of excitement sliding down a wall of sand provides. You have to re-wax the board every time you go down the hill. When it runs out you slow down, and sometimes catch a patch of compact sand that throws you forcefully off the board and onto the dune, which is not as forgiving as it sounds. Not all the rocks in the desert have been worn down to fine sand particles, some are still just rocks.

Either way, it rounded out the Atacama trip in reasonably fun, and inexpensive manner. The next day began a 3-day jeep trip through the Andean Altiplano to Uyuni, Bolivia.

P.S.
Blogging next to obnoxious German youths playing Mario Kart definitely isn't something I thought I'd be doing in Bolivia.

Unremarkable Mendoza, and Minimally Interesting Salta

2009-03-24T13:04:00.000-07:00

The Bus from Bariloche:

I arrived in the bus station and once again ran into my talkative Korean friend Kim. Honestly, I really wasn't in the mood to humor him, and hoped that we weren't taking the same bus. Luckily, he headed west and I turned north to Mendoza. I met an amazing girl on the way there, an adventure tourism guide from Quebec who tipped me off about San Pedro de Atacama.

Mendoza, Not the Place for Me:

Although hanging out with her in Mendoza was fun, I was happy to leave after one night, and one disappointing wine and bike tour. I ended up hanging out with a Spaniard wine connoisseur that drove me nuts the whole wine tour. He was the wealthy elitist type and stuck to me like glue simply because he didn't want to go to the wineries alone. The wine country felt like the California central valley, which didn't interest me at all. The trip was moderately painful, but I won't dwell on it. I drank and enjoyed a couple vintage malbecs, and was happy with just that. I was very glad to get on the bus to Salta.

Salta, don't Be Fooled by the Name:

An incredible mountainous jungle surrounds Salta, a city that has become a popular hub for travelers heading into northern Chile and Bolivia. I had gone expecting desert scenery, and was pleasantly surprised by the beauty that surrounded the city.

Most of the activities here, like Mendoza cost an arm and a leg... so I just stuck to camping and trekking. It was a good place to collect myself and get a little rest and relaxation, although the city itself was rather busy. There was a nice park, and a beautiful trek up to the top of a mountain next to the city. There was a tram that takes lazy people to the top as well, but I couldn't imagine paying to miss out on a great walk up a winding 1,000 step stairway through in the middle of the jungle. When I approached the top, I was disappointed to see a touristy and unnatural lawn and resort. They had a fake waterfall with disgusting recycled water, and a fancy cafe for the wealthy tourists. I took a few pictures of the city from that trap, and went back down to the city VIA the staircase.

Unfortunately there was little else to do in Salta without forking over some serious cash, so I left it behind after 3 nights. It took about that long for my body to get used to the altitude anyway. From there I bussed to San Pedro de Atacama.

All the bus rides I've taken were beautiful and interesting, but this one in particular was truly incredible. After watching the jungles melt into desert, we drove across a small salt flat. It looks like water in the photograph, but you can tell from up close that it's just a giant field of glistening and dry salt. I have never seen anything else like it, and it's made me very excited about the trip I'm going to make into Uyuni, Bolivia.

The scenery was fantastic, and despite a slightly disappointing entry into San Pedro, I've found the Atacama incredibly diverse and fantastic.

Last Full Day in Bariloche

2009-03-24T09:12:00.000-07:00

Cerro Catedral

The next day I met back up with the Brits and a seventh person, Jesse. We had intended to head out to the town of Catedral at 11AM via bus, but were delayed by a futbol game. After the Brits got their fill and saw their local team (Manchester City) lose, we caught the bus at 1PM. I was a little peeved by the delay, but I'll admit that things might not have been quite as amazing if we had started our trek at a more reasonable hour.

The trek started easily and it seemed that we would certainly make it to the summit very quickly. That all changed very abruptly, as I received yet another reminder of the burdens that come from traveling in a group. We took constant breaks before we needed them, and were always waiting for whoever was dragging behind. To be fair, as a group everyone was relatively strong, but we only had about 5 hours of daylight to do an estimated 6 hour hike.

When we got farther up the peak, the scenery became incredibly beautiful, almost dreamlike. The camera can't quite capture the diagonal rays splitting through the canopy of the old-growth forest, but the whole area emitted a distinctly pure vibe. We naturally spread out beyond each others' area of vision, and it felt like walking peacefully alone through paradise.

When we met up toward the end of the forest that we realized how far behind some of our group had fallen. We ended up waiting half an hour for Jesse, who had some physical troubles and had to stop a few times on the way. He decided to stay behind in the forest as we headed up toward the summit. Time was short and the path was really steep, but we covered the estimated 2 hour climb in just over an hour. The forest scenery dissipated completely to reveal great varieties of spires and jagged peaks, and everyone suddenly felt the physical toll of the hike. I was the only one that had packed food, and ended up sharing it with the rest of the group, some of whom appeared to be feeling extremely weak.

I had lugged that food all the way up the hill, and losing the extra weight vitalized me as much as eating did. Being the prepared type, I ended up sharing much more of my food and water than I kept for myself. Despite the hunger, I'm always happy to help anyone, so naturally I pretended have had my fill and urged them to eat and drink freely.

We then tackled the last 2 kilometers with a "get it over with" mentality and pushed through the exhaustion. A beautiful spring sat at the top, nestled among a tight ring of jagged peaks. We took a little break and checked out "Refugio Frey," a base camp for truly daring climbers who came to attempt to scale the vertical cliff faces surrounding the spring. They looked truly insane dangling on the edge of oblivion and it certainly took the greater part of a day for them to complete their short but nigh impossible climbs. We were happy to live vicariously through the pictures of the peaks. We also brought Jesse up to the top through an impromptu superimposition.

We rushed down doing a great deal of fun and exciting "fall-running" (using momentum from downhill stretches to propel yourself farther, faster, and with less energy). We met back up with Jesse who ended up napping in the forest where we left him and continued down the hill reunited.

The second time I "saved" one of the Manchester group was when Michael built up too much momentum and lost control while running down a slope. I pretty much just stood below with my arms out, feet braced and fingers crossed. He was easy to stop. I think it was because he was tall and his center of gravity was really high and separated from his feet. He was just happy to not have crashed into the mountain wall.

We reached the bottom just before sunset, but had to wait almost 2 hours for the bus to come take us back. It was cold, and I looked ridiculous running around town trying to find someone that knew the bus schedule.

I pretty much went straight to bed after all that. I left Bariloche the next day.

More of Bariloche

2009-03-21T16:14:00.000-07:00

Cerro Campanario

Today the rest of the group wanted to take it easy and sleep in, but by some miracle, I wasn't tired or sore at all. I decided to do a short hike up to Cerro Campanario, one of the top 10 views in the world according to National Geographic. I agree that the panorama of lakes and mountains was very impressive... but I'm more of an intimate scenery type. I was more affected by the unique views we enjoyed on the bike ride. I can't complain too much, since I skipped the gondola and hiked up to the summit for a total cost of $0.

A nice German woman took the picture above for me, and I took a few more photos before heading back down. On the way I noticed a path that headed around parallel to the mountain.... obviously it had to be explored. It turned out to be an infrequently trodden horse trail that I assumed followed the mountain range along the lake. It winded through bamboo forests and occasionally cleared up for a view of the lakes. About 45 minutes later, I discovered that it didn't follow the mountain range. I had just circled the mountain, and I found myself back where I started, perfectly oriented and generally disappointed.

The rest of the day was just relaxing and kicking back in the hostel.

From Buenos to Bariloche

2009-03-17T12:47:00.001-07:00

The Actual Leaving:

After wrapping up a few loose ends in Buenos Aires with incredible haste, I jumped on the bus to Bariloche.

There seemed to be only Argentines entering, so I was excited to get an opportunity to practice my Spanish... but I ran into a strange surprise when I got to my seat. Instead of meeting an Argentine, I found myself next to an overly-talkative Korean man named Kim. Kim had made it a point not to learn a single word of Spanish in his months of travelling. I talked to him for a long time about essentially nothing before I got really bored and pretend to fall asleep. He's an author/artist in Korea, and obsesses way too much over the obvious. I'll leave the Kim business at that... at least he kept me awake to take that shot of the sunset on the horizon.

Exploring People and Places in Bariloche:

I ended up in my hostel room with a group of 5 Brits from Manchester traveling together. They turned out to be an awesome group and I got along well with all of them. That night I acted as their Spanish translator and we went on a hilarious 'empanada crawl' in Bariloche. Some pizza place that cooked them freshly took the prize.

We spent the first full day biking around the "micro circle." It was an amazing time for lots of reasons, but mostly because everyone wanted to do completely crazy and ridiculous things the whole time. We started just by riding up hills that weren't meant for bikes, like the road to the fancy hotel Llao Llao, where the picture on the left was taken.

That, however was the least exciting part of the excursion. Farther down the trail me Jaime, and Lawrence ended up cutting into the woods and climbing through the canopy to get a unique view of Lago Escondito. I managed to snap this picture of Jaime moving through the treetops.

Afterward we got stuck in the bamboo forest below, but eventually worked our way back to the normal path and had lunch by the lake. This was the first of several off-the-trodden-path experiments... and it really showed me how much more I could enjoy my experiences simply by knowing that they were unique. Peer pressure drove us off the path, and I'm not gonna lie, some of my greatest discoveries have happened as the result of peer pressure and mob mentality. The extremes that those things are responsible for are pretty interesting, but I won't explore my philosophical reflections on the power of collective thinking here.

I will, however, talk more about exploring in general. It's no coincidence that every single one of my pictures came from the things we found off the main trail (which was still very beautiful itself). The second time we diverged from the road was actually twice removed from the main trail. We accidentally went about 15km off the map and ended up on a difficult and poorly marked road. It was from that road that we went off into the woods and found a beautiful waterfall. We filled up our water bottles with some of the most deliciously pure, cold water I've ever tasted, and relaxed there for a while. I convinced the group to take a trek up into the hills since they looked fairly climbable. I wanted to see where the waterfall came from. I expected a pond or something of that sort, but we found far more spectacular things. After a bit of fairly difficult climbing we found a shrine and a statue of the virgin Mary on top of the cascade. This place must have been special to someone, but we could only guess why. It was a surreal sight . . . hard to take any clear and simple impressions from.

Farther up towered a taller, thinner, more spectacular waterfall. That's the one in the picture. Sam took a fall on the way down, and I put my arm out to help him. I think he would have been fine, but I was credited for the first of two times with 'saving' one of them. I'm pretty much one of the greatest heroes that ever lived... anyhow... the waterfall we found felt so peaceful, so inspiring, so uniquely beautiful that it's hard to reflect on the experience without feeling a longing to be out in the wilderness in the quiet.

After coming down from there and riding even farther in the wrong direction we saw an isolated and completely deserted beach. we felt obligated to find a way down to it. After the third random guess as to how to get down there, we managed to find a trail. We weren't disappointed at all. We discovered a private beach with a setting sun and beautifully dynamic horizon - completely unspoiled by civilization or any signs of human activity. It was an amazing day, and after returning to the main road we managed to return the bikes 3 minutes before they had to be back, 10 hours after we started the trip. Good people, good sites, good exercise, great day.

Leaving Buenos Aires

2009-03-10T20:39:00.001-07:00

I have mixed feelings about leaving Buenos Aires, and I feel like I have a lot of unfinished business here. I'll certainly be returning here before traveling to a few other places, but I'm not sure how long that stay will last. I can't believe how many people I've met here, how much I've done, how much I could have done, and how strangely homelike such a foreign and heavily populated city could be.

I have a few more loose ends to tie up tomorrow, but after that, I'm gone. I'll be on a bus to smaller places. Places with more natural beauty, with adventure, with solitude. I have been craving these things, but I'm positive I'll be missing this city quite a bit. I've left a lot of unfinished business, and I'd like to have a chance to deal with it in the future.

For now, beautiful lakes, towering mountains, and the incredible glaciers of Patagonia are calling. I'm excited to go and, as always, very nervous about exactly what the future holds. Either way, it'll be an experience that I doubt I'll soon forget. The freedom, the uncertainty, all of it feeds my adventurous spirit. Other than that, all I have to say is Mom, Dad, DON'T WORRY! It'll be fine, it'll be fun, it'll be constructive, and it'll be healthy. I'm very happy to be here but I still love you all and I'll be incredibly excited to see you when this journey reaches its end.

Carnaval in Gualeguaychu

2009-03-06T08:03:00.000-08:00

The Beginning:

So this weekend my Indian friend, Brazilian roommate and I went to Carnaval in Gualeguaychu. It made for a great day. We took a surprisingly comfortable 3 hour bus ride, and arrived just before noon. It seemed to be a nice and quaint little town--very different from Buenos Aires. We bought reasonably priced drinks and enjoyed the relatively mild weather. Passing the temperate day in a relaxed town along a lazily flowing river while drinking deliciously cheap local beer with good company inspires only one feeling: content. It wasn't quite Hemmingway drinking mojitos on the beach in Cuba, the sand was clearly planted there by humans and the river was murky with sediment, but it sufficed. I’m pretty interested in what kind of wildlife there was in that river, since all of it was effectively invisible. Nit-picky details aside, it was picturesque.

Taking in the Scene:

We had a lot of time to lounge, and only headed out toward the festivities around 8:30pm as the sun started setting. That was good timing, as we were able to get in before it became overcrowded and had time to meet and socialize with the people around us. Everyone there was awesome, I’ve had good experiences with just about everyone in Buenos Aires, but here there was absolute consistency. We were invited to join people at several after-hours clubs, and everyone we talked to were very interested to find out where our unique Spanish accents were from (California, Texas/India, and Brazil).

The Festival:

When the actual festival started, I was surprised in a lot of ways. All the music was played live from the floats as they passed, and there was no shortage of sexuality and symbolism between the ridiculous costumes and surprisingly thoughtful floats. It seemed it was just going to be a series of inaccurate and borderline offensive cultural stereotypes; the first set of floats was simply a series of cliché depictions of Chinese, Indian, and Middle Eastern cultures. That irked me a bit, but from there the procession got on track.

The rest of the floats followed a very logical and interesting progression that I think is probably overlooked by most visitors (I couldn’t convince the people around me that there was anything of substance in the procession). The floats depicted the indigenous cultures and wildlife in South America. These were immediately followed by a Portuguese ship filled with conquistadors. The connection seemed obvious to me at this point, but 15 floats later people still thought I was imagining it.

The next floats depicted the missionary period, with giant symbols of European religion and culture, and after that it got really interesting . There was a giant float that represented the poisonous effects (literal and figurative) of the European colonists. The cultural symbols on that float were each perverted in an interesting way, and all centered on a diabolical piece of machinery pumping the poison into everything.

I thought that the festival had ended when a dark float that represented the deaths from plague, war, and murder came by, but it turned out there was a lot more to be said. A purely white float, full of angelic and redemptive images followed, yet this wasn’t the whole story either.

Next a series of floats showing beggars, corrupt politicians, giant and malicious visages of jokers, and a float full of people in suits riding a pig being lured by an American $100 bill. I thought the connections were pretty undeniable at this point, and I was happy to see this kind of awareness in a celebration that is largely considered to be a wild sex-romp. To be clear, in front of and on top of just about all of these were scantily clad dancers wearing the feathers of what I could only estimate to be about 2,000 large birds. So like most celebrations, it wasn’t without its conflicts of interest, but in all honesty I think Christmas is much worse (I find endless irony in obligatory kindness).

The depressingly true imagery of the poisons of European and North American culture was followed by the reaction. Giant floats loaded with politically charged messages followed. Some protested directly through protest signs, some had to be understood implicitly. These floats demonstrated the movements and hope that drive positive change. I was glad to see that, otherwise I'd say that the high spirited celebration would have ended on a really depressing note.

The Overview:

As a culmination of a lot of different things, my interpretation of Carnaval is a celebration of the current culture for everything that it is. The good, the bad, the free, the victimized, the taboo… everything is recognized and the whole time people are happily dancing and interacting with each other. Rather than cherry-picking events to highlight as stepping stones to the current situation, they put everything in perspective. Bad things happened, but we are what we are, and since we’re happy with what we are, there’s cause to celebrate.

Oh, and the after party was ridiculous. I’ve never seen a relatively bland area come to life like that.

A belated post about a lot of things

2009-02-22T18:30:00.000-08:00

So, work has absorbed a great deal of my time.

I did, however get a chance to walk around the famous cemetery where Eva Peron and other exorbitantly rich corpses hang out. Among them I found a headstone that probably isn't related to my family, but had the last name Delfino, my mother's maiden name.

I intend to actually put some time into looking for a Reverdito that might be related to me, but I haven't quite gotten around to it. Other than that, I've been eating well, trying to walk around a different part of town everyday, and learning a ridiculous amount of Spanish.

It's amazing how uninteresting a job can make a person. Losing half of every waking day during the week really purges an individual of their personality. I've been drinking mate pretty frequently in an attempt to combat this, and to a degree it has worked since mate is probably an interesting drink in the eyes of many non-Argentines. It's a healthy alternative to coffee, and it's dirt cheap here. The added bonus is that I look super cool and Argentine when I whip out my mate, bombilla (straw), and thermos. That all ends as soon as I open my mouth though . . . I might as well be be wearing a giant neon grill that says GRINGO. It's pretty funny how quickly the locals will laugh at you when you try to tell them which bus line to take. Even with my greatly improved Spanish, my accent remains so bad that they usually can't even understand me. I blame them though, Argentine Spanish is to formal Spanish as Bostonian English is to official OED English.

Side Note:
I'm really excited for my eventual travel itinerary, I just have no idea when I might actually get some time to do it.

Out of Literature . . .

2009-02-14T12:24:00.000-08:00

So I just finished the books I brought with me, and I haven't looked into the book exchange programs around here yet. Galapagos was the better of the two, an interesting reflection on human society and the functionality of our over-sized brains. What's fantastic about discussing this book is that it can't be ruined. There are no secrets in the plot, no one's battling a single evil force, no one is striving to save the world or anything like that. It simply explores the evolutionary irony in our having developed large and complex brains which don't seem to be conducive to the preservation of human life.

Either way, I'm mostly posting this because I haven't had a lot of time to share pictures with people and post about interesting things. We have plans to go see the parks and famous cemeteries in Recoletta soon. I'm also going to Tigre with or without my lazyish roommates. Hopefully I'll have something interesting to share about that excursion, and I'll talk about my plans to go to El Calafate when I get a 7-10 day window.

A View of the House, and Some Activities

2009-02-01T18:00:00.000-08:00

The House:
I'm just posting a few pictures for those who have been asking.

The Two Different Roofs

The Dining Room/Balcony, and the Great Barbecue Pit in the Sky.

The Views from the Top

La Bomba Del Tiempo:Me and Some of the Roommates at La Bomba Del Tiempo.

Really not a bad activity for a lay audience. It's a fun show when the crowd is getting into the music, otherwise it's just a very repetitive Latin percussion group. Don't get me wrong, for the $4 it costs to get in and additional $4 for a liter of beer, you really can't complain about what you get. I'm just spoiled. The complexity of the show and the dynamic contrast is designed to appeal the general public. Relative to Drum Corps, I'd say that they play like a middle-of-the-pack division 2 drumline playing warm-ups. All and all a good group activity, but certainly nothing to arrange a trip around.

Here's a Video of them from Youtube.

Feet

2009-01-31T13:09:00.000-08:00

Illogically huge building in Puerto Madero

This Post is Dedicated to Feet:
Special thanks to Ben Powers for donating and inspirational pair of shoes to my trip.

A lot of people have feet. Some don't. They're certainly not worse than anyone else, although possibly less pedantic . . . someone should do a formal study to find out.

I'm quite fond of my feet, and I enjoy walking. The difference between me and a pedophile: Lust for children. The Greeks certainly lacked foresight in some of their naming. They use two similar roots for two very dissimilar things, yet they had a very specific and identifiable verb for a human being turned into a tree.

If I had MS Paint I'd highlight the callouses and mosquito bites. But I don't, so consider yourselves lucky.

My foot is getting used to BA very quickly. I'll tell you one thing, it was HARD at first. These shoes were made for walking, but holy crap were they an impediment (pun intended) at first. I felt like they'd never become broken in, I felt like I'd never be able to live here, never get used to the language, never get out and see the city . . . and so on. But the shoes have molded to my feet like I have molded to the culture, the language, and the transportation. When these shoes wear out I'll probably have to leave.

A cool little veranda near the river

My Brazilian roommate Thiago and I walked around San Telmo, Centero, and Puerto Madera on Thursday. These only comprise a small portion of the entirety of Buenos Aires but still made for about a 10 mile trek.

Some pictures of things we saw and stepped on are scattered throughout this post.

Peaceful protesting regarding sovereignty over the Falklands, unsibsidized power, other issues.

Headphones in South America

2009-01-29T07:45:00.000-08:00

I've got a whole lot to be thankful for here. Buenos Aires has been incredible. Everything just keeps getting better here. I've networked my way into an English teaching job, I've met a great group of friends, I communicate sufficiently well with most of the locals, and I found my lost headphones.

The Food is Getting Better:

The food here tends to be incredibly boring and they don't use or sell spices in any local stores. Yes, the beef is cheap and decent quality, but that seems to be about all the Buenos Aires has to offer. Regardless, I'm finally able to combat this. I met one of the very few and elusive Indian people living here. We decided there are probably about 5 Indians in BA, and that only they know where to get decent herbs and spices. Either way I have access now, and they're cheap.

Barriers to Communication:

All of these are dissolving very quickly. The local accents and dialects sound more familiar now, and I communicate mostly in Spanish. Not bad, considering I haven't had any experience in the Spanish language since 3 moderately informative years of study in high school.

Things are looking good.

More early impressions

2009-01-26T10:43:00.000-08:00

Picture of me and my housemates (I've currently been without rest for almost 2 days).

Main Impression, Overwhelmed:

So this city is huge. Just really, really massive. There are always things happening and there's no way to keep up with it all. I'm glad that my roommates are pretty cool, and that I have someplace decently homely to collect myself in between my ventures outside.

Trying to Make it Work:

The conveniences here are all just a little bit less convenient than in the US. The internet is ungodly slow, and I have to be extremely patient when watching the news and searching for activities and jobs online. Sadly these are the things that I NEED to do in order to stick with my original plan of living here without bleeding money out too quickly. I figure I’ll do what I can, and I’ve heard work is much easier to find around March anyhow (although I’d have liked to have had a chance to travel around South America in that time). Either way, I'll just roll with the punches. Story of my life.

Rumors:

I've talked to a lot of people about places I should go and things that I should see. The people in the house are talking about going to Montevideo or Colonia, and I'd really want to, but I don't know if I should be spending money that freely. Everyone here seems to be on a bottomless budget and most of them aren't even thinking about getting work. Either way, I'm thinking way too much here, and trying to communicate in Spanish is making my brain hurt just a little bit more than I'd like. TIME, I need TIME, but time is money . . . and all that crap.

The Beginning

2009-01-24T21:19:00.001-08:00

(Picture mostly unrelated, it was the only one I took before I left, so it'll have to do)

So, those that have known me a long time know that (by choice) I pretty much don't do anything, ever. I'm perfectly content with that lifestyle; however, in this world we all need something in order to maintain comfortable living.

Income.

When I have a job, I don't have a problem going to it, completing my responsibilities, and almost without exception being an exemplary employee. But that's where that ends. When I don’t have work, I DESPISE looking for it. I hate the borderline dishonesty that goes along with the application process, the bureaucratic garbage that stands in between you and actually getting considered for an interview. All of it. I wish that everyone just had a factual job performance history tattooed to their forehead. That way I'd either stand out, or understand completely when I don't end up at the top of the ladder. Regardless, as things are, job hunting is the mental equivalent of digging through a pile of manure in search of the house key. You REALLY don't want to do it; you probably won't find it; and even if by some twisted miracle you happen to grasp it, you'll likely realize that you probably never really wanted it. Long story short, instead of continuing my manure diving, I've decided to take a gamble with travel. Sometimes foreign manure appeals more than what's available at home. Some people eat bat guano.

I've had this on my mind for a long time (travel, not bat guano), but planned on the very, very short term. I'm fine with that. Others aren't. I think that fundamentally those two types of people make up the vast majority of the population. People that are afraid of the unknown, and people that are intrigued by and attracted to it. I used to fear pretty much everything . . . crowds, darkness, commitment, raisins . . . you name it. I'm very consciously breaking out of that mold.

Now, I can't say that things have never been better, but things are good, and I have high hopes. Even though nothing has really fallen into place (except that apparently Radiohead is playing in BA soon). I haven't found any fantastic work opportunities, I'm far from capable of navigating this city, and there isn't a single pair of headphones in South America that will satisfy my audiophillic needs. But for no particular reason, things are looking better every day.

My main source of optimism: Almost every surprise has been a good one. The average person here is very aware of international politics, and they can reinforce their opinions with concrete evidence. A dissenting opinion wouldn't flag you as the Buenos Aires equivalent of un-American(a truly strange word to see written). Different opinions stimulate deeper conversation rather than the abandonment of it. Long story short, people should talk about everything, and it seems like they do that here.

But that doesn't mean that BA isn't ridiculous for a slew of other reasons. It is. Five hours after I arrived here, we were roasting heaps of meat and emptying bottle after bottle of local beer and wine. This only lasted about . . . seven hours before everyone moved on to the bars. After all it was only 5AM. Yes, 5 in the freaking morning, that time that I can't remember being conscious at during any other point of my life. And that's when they decided to go out. I didn't. Not yet. Even more than I like sleeping during the day, I like sleeping at NIGHT, when the sun is down. When 95% of other mammals decide instinctively that they'd be better off not jumping between tree branches, navigating cliff faces, or crossing the street in a city has collectively agreed not to obey traffic laws.

My roommates came home at 8 AM. Breakfast was around 4PM, and everyone else looked miserable. Jetlag (similarly to how I'd imagine menstruation) not only exists, but can wielded powerfully as an excuse for engaging in healthy activities. That's all I've got for today, a few of us are going to bed while the others are out again making more shockingly un-mammalian decisions.