KatieB's Great Adventures

The Animals Are MIA - I know!

2009-08-13T22:51:00.002-05:00

Okay, I finally, after all this time, posted my Galapagos blog. I know, thanks for reading. I attempted to upload pictures of adorably cute animals but for whatever reason blogspot wasn't cooperating. I'm still working on it though.

The Stuff That Dreams Are Made Of - The Galapagos Islands

2009-08-07T23:22:00.002-05:00

Ever since I can remember I wanted to go to the Galapagos Islands and as I was traveling around I kept running into people who had been and said that it was the most amazing place in the world. It wasn’t too long after I finished school and started traveling around parts other than Peru that I decided to put the destination on my itinerary. And man, am I ever glad I did. I’m also glad I took my camera and my camcorder because without those things I think it would be hard to believe that I actually did go. It is a surreal place.

For eight days I traveled around on a 96 foot schooner yacht, crewed by six, and temporary home to 14 tourists, and two bird enthusiasts. As with every memorable trip, the people play a key role. And I can say that we had the most lovely group (save one) and not only will I never forget the amazing animals I saw while I was there, I will also always remember the wonderful people I met.

It’s amazing what you can accomplish when you’re going full-throttle, and we did just that. Even while we were sleeping the crew was generally busy getting us to our next destination. Each day we had at least two excursions. Sometimes that would be a walkabout on an island, sometimes a ride on the panga, snorkeling, each day was something different. Each night our guide, Juan, went over the animals we had seen that day and then gave us a rundown on what was in store for us the next day.

One of the things most impressionable about the islands is that they are all so different. Generally, animals that live on one island only live on that island, and that’s not the only difference. The vegetation also changes. One island might be covered by volcanic rocks and little vegetation while the next might have the most colorful landscape made up of scrub plants. Some islands have jagged cliffs while others have gently sloping, sandy beaches. Generally this wouldn’t be a hard concept to wrap your head around but here, everything is in such close proximity. You’re constantly wondering “How in the world can these places look so completely different?”

Of course I saw a gazillion and a half adorable, I-really-want-to-stuff-you-in-my-bag, puppy dog-eyed baby sea lions. I could have stayed with those little guys forever. My next favorite? The Pacific Green Sea Turtles. I was fortunate to see probably more than my fair share of these beautiful creatures. I saw two mating on the beach, saw them swimming in the ocean, relaxing on the beach, and even got to snorkel with them. After that, I’d probably have to go with the Galapagos Flycatcher. This guy is a little brown and yellow bird but so sweet looking. I saw hundreds of beautiful birds and some not so beautiful birds but this little guy is tops in my book. We saw some of the meanest looking, most chilled out marine iguanas I’ve ever seen in my life. I got a huge crack out of how they would dogpile each other to stay warm. The land iguanas aren’t too shabby either. Their bright yellow and orange colors demand that you give them a second look. As for land turtles, I got to get up close and personal with those enormous guys and gals in both a refuge and out in the wild. It’s amazing to know that something that starts out so small - when they are babies they fit in the palm of your hand, can grow to the size of a lounge chair (although fortunately for them they don’t have the same shape).

That’s a little about the animals. Now for the people because like I said before…good company is the key to a memorable journey. And speaking of good company, I would have given my right arm to have had Ross as my roommate for this part of my journey. Gee whiz did I miss that guy especially after I met my roomie. The only thing I will say about her is that I hope she either 1) stops traveling – I’m pretty sure she’s the reason why people think Americans are rude, or 2) stops complaining and saying mean things i.e. becomes a nice person. Enough said about her, it’s a good thing I almost have a selective memory, I’ve almost forgotten how bad she was at this point. :o)

Let’s see, who should I start with first? Hum…how about José from Spain. It’s amazing when one travels to a Spanish speaking country and there are hardly any people who speak Spanish but that’s exactly what José ran into on his Galapagos trip. The only people on the boat who spoke any Spanish were the crew, our guide, and me. We got to be good friends. He’s a swell guy. An attorney in Madrid, who like I used to be, rarely ever takes a break from work to enjoy life. For me, this friendship was the best of both worlds. I got to make a new friend and I got to practice lots of Spanish. It is so cool to speak another language! Yahoo!

Next up…Wyn and Gill, from Wales. This amazing couple, when they were having a conversation between just the two of them, would speak in Welsh. Although I never did ask how old they are, my guess is somewhere in their mid 60’s. They are both former attorneys but now Wyn serves as a judge and Gill is a mediator. They are both so regal and yet so warm at the same time. They kind of reminded me of the baby sea lions, I just wanted to pack them up and take them home as well.

Jayne is a girl after my own heart. She and I are almost the same age. And like me, although she hasn’t given up on love, apparently it’s elusive for her as well. So, what does she do to occupy her free time? She travels. She’s been all over the place and I loved hearing her Africa stories and all the other amazing places she’s been. She also has trouble finding someone who will go with, so instead of staying home, she goes and does. She is also an animal lover and works in the corporate offices of a pet store in England.

Liz, now let me tell ya about this lady. She is absolutely amazing! She’s originally from England but signed up for the army when she was right out of school, she said, so she could travel. Her plan actually worked and she’s been all over the world. She currently lives in Crete but will be heading to Afghanistan to serve 6 months there. She celebrated her 50^th birthday while we were on our trip. She has 5 more years and then she’ll be able to retire. She was always so upbeat and positive the entire time and a real classy lady.

Jill, Howie, Mark, and Josh – The four of these guys pretty much were a package deal and the majority of the time stuck together pretty close but they were very sweet. The guys were all computer programmers (Howie and Josh are brothers). Jill works for a school district and I’m pretty sure she said she was in charge of teacher training. She and Howie are getting married in September so I know she’s going to be a very busy girl between now and then. The two of them at one point laid down next to some sea lions and a baby sea lion came up and started licking Jill’s toes. I’ll admit, it was hard not to be a little jealous while I snapped that picture.

Amy & Paul – This amazing couple from northern California have been together for nearly 20 years already and they’re not much older than me. They have such an amazing friendship. They both quit their jobs 15 months ago and have been traveling around the world. They have a great outlook on life and I enjoyed hearing about their travels, plans for the future, and exactly how they’ve managed to spend so much time together and still like one another.

Hans & the mystery man – I know, it sounds strange to me that I could spend eight days with someone and still not know their name but I have proof it is possible. Not only do I not know this guy’s name, the only thing I really do know about him is he and Hans are friends. The mystery man didn’t speak English and since my German is really bad these days I suppose that explains a little. Hans on the other hand, did speak a bit of English and I found out he’s an artistic welding teacher in Germany. Very interesting guy…I will always remember him using his cell phone to take very up close and personal pictures of animals strictly for documentation purposes.

Jessica – I think I’ve already said enough about her and frankly, I chose to forget that part. :o)

Brian – I have given this guy the award for most interesting life story (1^st runner up was the girl I met in Brazil who was a squatter in London – she had some tales). Brian is a London ex-pat who lives in Kuwait City. He is a biology teacher and a bird enthusiast. When I met him, he was a little more than half-way done with his 18 month sabbatical and adventure around the world. According to him, teaching in Kuwait, although it pays well, it’s not as lucrative as making homemade beer, wine, and whiskey. From the sound of it, Brian has his own speakeasy going on buying up to 40 cases of unfermented beer a week. I asked him at one point after I’d learned the details of his hobby (which has completely paid for his round-the-world trip I might add) if he was worried what they would do to him if he was found out. His response, “All that will happen is I’ll lose my job and they’ll deport me.” Well, considering some of the punishments I’ve heard of in the Middle East getting fired and kicked out of the country doesn’t sound too awful bad. But still.

So, nearly six months since I was in The Galapagos you finally hear about the adventure. Sorry it’s taken me so long. Up next, tales from Columbia. Cheers!

Keepin' the Dream Alive

2009-05-04T22:54:00.002-05:00

Okay, so if you happen to be that one person who keeps checking back to see what's going on, well, you're in luck. The dream life is not over yet - at least the dream life where I get to travel all around the world meeting and making new friends. This Wednesday, I'll be heading off to Europe where I'm going to meet several of my friends.

First stop will be in Dublin, Ireland, to see my friend Ross for a very short visit before I jet off to North Devon, UK, to visit my friend Rachel (we met my first night in Lima...it was her last). After, I will return to Dublin to spend some quality time with my traveling buddy Ross. Then, it will be off to The Netherlands to visit Youandi and Merijn, some great guys I met in Mendoza, Argentina. Then, I'll be taking off to Paris to visit Katharina and hopefully Serena, two girls I met in Miami while staying at the Clay Hostel in South Beach. From Paris, I plan to go to London to meet up with Ross, and our friends Evan and Siobhan, who we met in Bolivia. I'll also get to hang out with Clair, a fabulous girl I met in Brazil. I'm also trying to swing it so I can meet up with Anna who I went to school with in Arequipa. She lives in the Czech Republic. There's also a great girl named Jayne who I met in the Galapagos. I think that's about it though and that should keep me plenty busy for the almost month I plan on sticking around.

So, the excitement continues. And I haven't forgotten, I have stories I need to post about the Galapagos Islands and Columbia. I've been working on them but with everything that happened with Bones since I've been back, I haven't been much on doing anything other than puppy type stuff. Hopefully, one day soon. Until then, I'll be gathering more material, promise.

The Best Love Story I Know

2009-04-24T21:13:00.011-05:00

Sometimes life takes you down a path you're not ready to travel down and this has been the case for Copper and me this week. My two special guys have been in my life for almost seven and six and a half years now. Robert and I met Bones in mid-August 2002, and on August 31, 2002, signed the adoption papers for a 45 pound stick dog with a big fuzzy head named Max. Just shy of six months later we decided Bones (who got a new name to go with his personality and figure) got a brother named Copper, who Bones paw-picked himself.

The three of us have been together ever since, with the exception of my time in South America. Their doggie dad, Robert, took care of them while I was away and even before I left, Robert and I somehow managed to share joint custody of our two favorite four-legged boys.

I will never forget meeting Bones and as they say in the movies, it was love at first sight. I knew he was the dog for us. Robert wasn't so sure and really liked a dog named Red. So after a few days of talking about which dog we liked best (we had met eight or nine that day), I conceded and agreed to call Susan at Sooner Golden Retriever Rescue and tell her we wanted Red.

I'll have to be honest. I did think about lying and saying I asked for him but thought that somewhere along the way my little lie would catch up with me so I did the only thing I knew to do, I prayed about it that night. I prayed that God would find Red a great home so that we could have Bones. I knew that he was the one for us. I don't know how but I just knew.

The next morning I called Susan and to her surprise, after she sheepishly explained that a volunteer wanted Red and that because she volunteered she was going to get dibs, I said, "Oh! That's great because I want Max! I prayed last night because I wanted Max and I'm so glad for Red but we want Max!" And so it was. The dog that Robert thought was going to continually jump up on people, became our dog, Bones. By the way, Bones never did jump up on anyone, of course unless they asked him to.

For people who have children or those who don't have dogs, I don't know that they will ever understand the way I feel about my pups. They are my life. They love me unconditionally and I love them back the same. Although I love my human friends, these guys have been my best friends for so many years they are closer to me than any people I know. They always know how to make me smile, they always know when to love on me because I'm sad or don't feel well, and they are always ready to provide hours and hours of entertainment with little to no pay.

This Thursday, as my friend Haley wrote it so eloquently, Bones died in my arms. I knew when I returned from South America that my dear friend had aged. I could see it in his walk and in his eyes. The three of us took a wonderful two week trip to Colorado which I will never forget where Haley snapped some of the most beautiful pictures of my guys. Pictures which allowed me to enjoy the last days with Bones, with us just being us, not worrying about taking pictures so I would remember how fuzzy his big head was or how beautiful his big brown eyes were.

Losing Bones has been the hardest thing for all of us, especially Copper. There really isn't anything sadder in life than seeing your puppy grieving the loss of his best friend. I know at some point things will get easier and that we won't find ourselves overwhelmed by sadness and we'll be able to think of the funny, fun times we all had. Those days seem so far away though as we deal with the grief of losing Bones.

He was such a beautiful, brave dog. I will never forget his terrible, nasty kisses. I will always miss having to tell him he's going to have to move so I can get out of the shower in the mornings. Picking up sticks won't be the same without him there to help. Tennis balls will go unchewed and will be left to gather dust. Sleeping in my full size bed sandwiched between two loving dogs is a thing of the past, as the dog who was always to my left is nowhere to be found. But the saddest thing is that one of the two greatest love stories in my life has come to an end. It was such a good story though.

Bones had to be put to sleep due to health complications of kidney disease, which is common in older dogs. Because he would want you to know, below are some of the symptoms of kidney disease/failure, which Robert and I overlooked because he was an old dog (Bones was probably between 11 and 12) and had had arthritis for a number of years. So please, if you notice these problems with your older dog, please take them to the vet to get him or her checked out. If caught early on (which most times doesn't happen) his or her diet can be changed which will lengthen the amount of time you get to spend with your best friend.

Early clinical signs of kidney failure in dogs:
Increased water consumption;
Increased urine production;

Weight loss;

Weakness or exercise intolerance;

Tendency to bleed or bruise easily.

Clinical signs of more advanced kidney failure in dogs:
Loss of appetite;
Depression;
Vomiting;
Diarrhea;
Very bad breath;
Ulcers in the mouth;

Dehydration (To test for this, gently pull the skin away from your dog's middle. If the skin does not immediately spring back, the dog may be dehydrated.);
Stiff-legged gait and arched back (a sign of painful kidneys);
Little or no urine production.

You Don't Wanna Miss This!

2009-03-31T09:54:00.002-05:00

Okay, so I still haven't made it out of Colorado. I haven't crossed the two week mark yet so technically I don't think you can say I've moved...yet. Yesterday my friend Haley played the part of the pupparazzi and took pictures of Bones and Copper. She did a brilliant job. Better than I could have ever imagined. I take pictures of them all the time but they never look like these...it must be me.

Anyway, if you want to see some really amazing, sweet, cute, funny, and adorable pictures of two of my favorite people, oh! sorry, pups, then check out Haley's blog:

www.muttgal.blogspot.com

By the way, my Top Dog (he really was Top Dog in his obedience class), Copper, is the headliner for both her blog and her website. And just so you know, if you love your pups as much as I love mine (or cats, horses, pet mice) she would be a lovely choice to take some pictures of your beloved four-legged family member(s) as well. Just so you remember, her name is Haley Poulos - Haley Poulos Photography, and she rocks!

Play Time With The Pups!

2009-03-23T20:25:00.005-05:00

Well, I decided to post some puppy pictures. I've been working on my Galapagos blog and still have one to do for Columbia as well but I had some cute pics from our short trip to Steamboat (I'm in Vail right now where it is snowing cats and dogs. Yahoo!) But just so you have an idea just how much snow is still hanging around I took a picture of the outhouse. Don't worry. The only men in my life are the adorable, furry, four-legged type...

This was a familiar scene, Copper up front, scouting out our trail but never getting out of sight. Poor little guy had to drag around his leash though, just in case.

And Cop says, "Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow! I'm so glad my mumma is back!"

And Bones says, "I know people think this is fun but I don't know why." He sure did like me taking his picture though.

Copper ran around for over an hour without stopping, checking out everything, rolling around in the snow, and of course, always stopping to check out where his momma and Bones were.

It's hard to believe that Bones and Copper are somewhere between 10 and 12 years old. It was easy to tell that Bones is getting older, we took lots of stops. Our new motto: Slow and steady.

My two favorite guys in the world. We had such fun, just the three of us. Just the way we like it.

Well, in case you were wondering why I came "home", here's your reason(s). Not much else could have made me want to come back. It won't be long and we'll all be settling back into our normal lives. But until then, we plan on having lots more fun.

8 Completely Bizarre, Incredible, and Exciting Things About Bolivia

2009-03-12T07:46:00.048-05:00

I could talk about Bolivia for almost the same amount of time I was in this amazing country, 19 days. If you’re looking for adventure, the wild, crazy, this should be illegal (and might actually be) type of entertainment and tours, then this is your place. If you’re American, get ready to buy your $135 visa but it will be money well spent. I promise. I couldn’t possibly choose one activity over another or rank them by favorites, so they’re in order of activity. And, if by the time you finish reading this blog, you’re not in total disbelief or totally pumped and ready to get that next stamp in your passport, it’s got to be because I’m a terrible writer and I shouldn’t quit my day job. Oh, that’s right, I already did. Oh well…

1. Salar de Uyuni (Uyuni) – Our wild and crazy train ride lead us to Uyuni where we had decided to go to the biggest salt flats in the world. I realize that these days you’re supposed to refrain from sodium but seriously…have you ever seen the pictures you can take in a place like that? Completely wicked, plus if you need a little seasoning for your meal, you’re in luck. There’s over 4,000 square miles of salt which is something like eight meters thick. (I do sometimes use the metric system now, just so you know.) It was created when a gigantic prehistoric lake dried up and is now one of the hot spots on the gringo trail.

The next morning, Ross and I went in search of a reputable tour company which is pretty hard to do around those parts. We’d heard way too many horror stories of people almost dying due to tie rods breaking, or other vehicular accidents and stories of people being left out in the desert for hours waiting on another ride. We had a good tip and just so happened that while we were in the office questioning Amalia if they changed vehicles mid-stream, if the tour was with her company, all those questions you think you shouldn’t have to ask, a group who had just returned rocked in to the office. So, with their good reports we booked a trip. Well, actually it was after Ross had worked some magic using his negotiation skills, then we booked the trip.

So the next day we took off with our motley crew (6 travelers, a driver, and a cook) off on a 3 day jeep tour of the Salar. First thing to note, is that even thought these are considered “jeep” tours, they’re in Toyota Land Cruisers, not in Jeeps. Second thing, is that it’s a good thing it’s not in a Jeep. Three days in a Jeep with 7 other people is not my idea of fun. Land Cruisers are actually pretty roomy, as long as you have the luggage, food, and extra fuel wrapped up in a tarp up on the top of the vehicle. Why in a tarp? There’s not much danger of rain most of the year but once you get out of the salt flats you’re in a desert, and let me tell you, everyone answers to the name of Pig Pen by the end of this trip. (Remember the Charlie Brown character who always walked around surrounded by a cloud of dust?) I don’t think I’ve ever been that dusty in all my life. On the way back, I lost count of the number of times I had to wipe the dust off my sunglasses just so I could see the barely existant road ahead of us.

We drove around to different look out points, visited a train cemetery, saw several different types of lakes which were homes to thousands of flamingos (we also saw the flamingos, too), visited the old salt hotel, stayed in another hotel made out of salt, took some fabulous pictures, visited a cemetery that was just discovered within the last 10 years which dates back to 500 BC (and they people are really well preserved due to the desert conditions let me tell ya), saw a desert landscape that looked like it came straight out of one of Salvador Dali’s paintings (they actually named that desert after him), climbed some very large rocks at the Valley of Rocks, took a dip in a thermal pool, got up before the crack of dawn to see dry and wet geysers, and hiked around “Fish Island” and saw cacti that had been around for thousands of years.

If you’re thinking you are up for this adventure I strongly recommend Monte Blanco travel agency out of Uyuni. We had a great time, had a wonderful driver, an excellent cook, and I am happy to report we had no accidents and no breakdowns. After you’ve been there you can definitely understand why those last two things are so common.

2. The Mine Tours – La Candelaria (Potosi) – Our next stop on the gringo trail was Potosi. Although I was simply looking forward to going to the mine, blowing up some stuff with dynamite, and then heading on to the next stop, it didn’t take much to get me interested in the history of the city. It’s hard to imagine that any city in Bolivia, South America’s poorest country, was at one time more fashionable and richer than Paris. It is said that even the streets were paved with silver and at one time, back in the 1600’s there were more people living in Potosi than in any other place in the world. The reason? The Cerro Rico (Rich Hill in English) where they found and mined silver up until the 1800’s (when the supply was depleted) was the place to live. Given what it is today, it’s hard to comprehend that Potosi was at one time the richest city in the world.

Today, the mine still plays an important role in the Potosi economy. And for those of us who dare to visit the mine, it becomes a huge eye-opener. There was a documentary made back in 2005 called The Devil’s Miner, which is a film about 14 year old and his 12 year old brother who work in the silver mines to help support their family. Although I didn’t see any children working the day I was there, children still work in the mines here. I really encourage you to find the movie. I’m pasting the link because I got a chance to see the movie when I was in Sucre and it is absolutely unbelievable. Believe me, I don’t have a job but I was definitely grateful for the one I did have once I had watched the film and I know you will be as well, you’ll be thankful for a lot of things. http://www.thedevilsminer.com/index_new.html.

A friend of mine had recommended a place to stay in Potosi and also had said that he had booked his tour through their agency. After we read the Lonely Planet guide on the mine tours I was glad I had bought some extra life insurance as they tell you straight up, it is a dangerous tour. After all, you’re stepping into a working mine, where there are poisonous gases, men working with dynamites, runaway carts that could end your life in the blink of an eye, and a truckload of other bad things that you hope never happen. So why go on the tour? To get a glimpse of life for a Bolivian miner and of course, to get to play with dynamite!

After getting on all our duds (including another hard hat…a sign of a great tour), we headed off with our group to the Miner’s Market. Believe it or not for a little more than $2.00 US you can buy a stick of dynamite, a fuse, and a little metal connector, and let me not forget the accelerator. We bought a couple of packets, some as gifts for the miners, and one for us to play with. The mines are cooperatives, which means that every miner works for himself, sets his own hours but has a group of buddies who is always watching his back. They have to buy their own supplies such as dynamite and coca leaves. Two things that they wouldn’t be able to get by without. We also bought some coca leaves to hand out. I’m sure at this point you understand why the dynamite is important but you’re probably really wondering about the coca leaves. Matter of fact, you’re probably wondering about my sanity at this point. I promise I’m completely fine. I just see things in a different light now.

We went directly to the mine after shopping at the market. At our security briefing our guide went over simple things such as mind your head, don’t touch the wires as most of them are for electricity, keep your lamps on, listen to what we say, those types of warnings. Then we were ready to go inside the mine.

Our first stop was to visit El Tio and to visit the mini-museum they had inside the mine. El Tio (the uncle) is the name the Spanish gave to the Devil when they came and conquered the Quechua people. They don’t have a “d” in their alphabet so they used a “t” instead. He is said to be the one who rules over the underworld and the mines in Potosi. The miners on a regular basis bring him offerings of coca leaves, cigarettes, and alcohol so he won’t take their lives. It’s said that the miners lead double lives. If you’re paying attention to the outside of the mines, you’ll always see a Virgin Mary or some other Christian symbol but inside the mine, they are worshiping El Tio or in reality, the devil. It’s been that way for generations and each miner accepts this dual-religion and depends on it for survival.

I could type all night long about the conditions inside these mines but instead I’m going to tell you about some of the things I witnessed while on my tour. I watched sweat pour out of a man’s boots while he pulled his ankle back towards his thigh. He had been working all day in areas that sometimes reach 120 degrees Fahrenheit. I watched as four men, two pulling and two pushing, struggled to push a two ton cart full on “completo” (that’s what they call the rocks straight out of the mine) along the tracks. They do this multiple times during their 12, 15, or 24 hour shifts, most of the time pushing the cart over 1 kilometer one-way. By the way, the cart, when it’s empty weights one ton. At one point, Ross and I helped push a cart up a slight incline, it was unbelievably heavy. I saw a young man with both cheeks chalk full of coca leaves just so he could work the day without any food. Once they enter the mines, no one ever eats. They take water, Gatorade, soda, and coca leaves with them but nothing else. Without the coca leaves to ward off the hunger and give them energy, they wouldn’t be able to work those types of shifts. I also saw the particles of dust and asbestos floating in the air as I walked and sometimes crawled down the narrow shafts. I watched as a guy gave the biggest grin and joked around as he was starting the long road back for another load. Even though these men and boys work in conditions that in the States wouldn’t be allowed, they still have these amazing spirits. And they’re glad to have their job. There’s no way they could make that kind of money on the outside.

The men and boys who work in the mine will make more than twice that of someone who doesn’t work in the mine. The sad reality though is that they are trading the majority of their lives so their families can survive. The majority of these men by the time they are 40 will have major lung problems and typically die of silicosis. They don’t have health insurance and they majority of them die at home, a slow, painful death. For those who don’t end up with lung problems, they generally die in the mines as a result of cave-ins, accidents with carts, and of course from explosions that didn’t go off when they should have. There are, on average, 30 deaths a year inside the mines of the Cerro Rico. Oh, I forgot to mention that these guys are also working at around 13,000 feet, a height that would make most of us lose our breath just walking a couple of steps and they’re doing everything the old-fashioned way, by hand.

So, besides getting to play with dynamite – we did actually get to use our stick of dynamite to blow up some stuff, I have a new appreciation for my life. The fact that I never had to start working when I was a child, that I don’t (or at least shouldn’t) have to worry about dying a slow, painful death, and that I’ve never had to work that hard for so little with no hope of getting ahead; I am so thankful. I’m also thankful that I got to see that when that is the case, that when that is your life, it is possible to live it with a sense of humor and a spirit that apparently can’t be broken.

3. The Biggest Water Balloon Fight in the World (Potosi) – The entire month of February is one big water fight in almost every city in Bolivia. If you’re out in the street you better be ready to get wet. First, I probably better add my disclaimer: The theory of Potosi having the biggest water balloon fight in the world is strictly the opinion of the author and does not represent anyone else’s thoughts or opinions on the subject. With that out of the way, I’m free to tell you about our involvement…

Twice a year, the miners have a carnival. It just so happened (and this is one of the best parts about traveling) that when we rocked into town, they were just preparing for the celebration. Our guide for the mine tour had told us we should stick around, that it gets pretty wild and is definitely something to see. So, since I’d already missed my original flight home, I thought, “What the heck?!? Sure!” And by that time, Ross and I had met up with a Welshman and his Irish wife, Evan and Siobhan, who are now great friends. The four of us agreed to meet up the next morning around 10:00 to witness the celebration.

Ross and I were running a little late (apparently that’s just the way we roll) and when we met up with Evan and Siobhan we could see fear in their eyes. “We don’t want to go back up there,” they said in unison. “It’s like a war, they’re crazy, and we’re just big white targets.” It didn’t take Ross and me long to figure out what they were talking about because before we could make a decision about heeding the warning or heading off into the war zone, a water balloon came screaming past my head…a near miss. We decided to chance it, and Evan and Siobhan being the great sports they are agreed to join us.

The parade itself, which consisted of drunken miners walking, dancing, and sauntering down the street was pretty amusing and while Ross had decided to continue up the street, the three of us decided we’d hunker down next to an older lady, thinking that people might have some respect for the elderly. Mistake #1, there is no regard for age, ability, or nationality when it comes to a water war. We were deep within enemy lines, and it proved to be difficult to extract ourselves from the interior of the battlefield.

Ross returned to find Evan, Siobhan, and me covered in foam and displaying the clear markings of recent hits. Ross, who had somehow managed to stay dry as a bone, then made friends with one of the locals who was kind enough to buy us our first stash of water balloons. We weren’t planning on using them for aggressive action, purely as a measure of defense, and to maybe look a little tough and scare off the enemy. We did alright for the first few meters but then just as they say in war…all hell broke lose. “Gringos!” I heard someone yell and I knew it was on. We made it a few blocks before we decided that we needed to strategize, we needed a plan, or we’d never make it out alive. I’d taken a couple of water balloons up the side of the head and by that point my pants were completely soaked which made running a little precarious. We needed to face the facts. We needed ammunition. So, like true locals, we bought several bags of water balloons, and we were armed and dangerous, and ready for what lurked around the next corner.

We had a great time from then on. I had a moment with a little boy, probably 10 years old, no more, he looked at me and was ready to hurl a bomb in my direction. I, thinking quickly, glared at him with a menacing look, pointed at him as if I were calling him out, like the “your next” thing you see on a field, players tense, filled with passion, and ready to take out anyone who gets in their way. Apparently I was successful as he shrunk back into the doorway of his house, peering from around the frame wondering exactly what I was capable of. I walked by on the other side of the street, not ever breaking eye contact, but I couldn’t help but crack a smile. The little boy, seeing my smile, visibility relaxed a little, and that’s when I let it fly. He would have done the same had I dropped my guard. Score one for me!

It continued like that for what seemed like an eternity and when we finally reached the safety of Evan and Siobhan’s hostel we were all soaked to the bone. It was a bit cold and the insanity of the situation was starting to settle into my mind. And then, the realization that we had a lot farther to go caused a slight panic to flood my body as I knew the streets were full of people just waiting to unleash their fury. Once we ran out of ammunition we resorted to running from the enemy. I can say that I’m so glad that I can still outrun most kids. I might not be in the greatest shape of my life but don’t they say you just have to be a little faster that the slowest guy? Or in this case, the guy with the water balloon, foam, or bucket.

I could go on and on about the water war. I could tell you about the taxi we refused to get in when it was time to head to Sucre because there was a gang of kids locked and loaded just waiting for us outside the door. I could tell you about the girls in the pickup trucks who would scream “Hola!” then dump a bucket of water on your head. I could also tell you about Ross and his errant water balloons, one of which nailed a businessman in his suit, not to mention the one that went in someone house. And the fun didn’t stop there, it continued in Sucre but by then I was getting to be someone of a professional and even dared to take a picture of two of the little boys who were so excited to have another go at me. I even ran like a child away from a 12 year old boy in Guayaquil, when he came after me with a can of foam. I should have heeded Siobhan’s suggestion and not made eye contact but I did, I saw the foam, I looked him in the eye, I smiled a little smile, he flashed back one that said “I’m gonna get you lady” and the chase was on (with the encouragement of his parents I might add). I had to run a lot further than I thought I would. I also saw people covered in blue paint while in Guayaquil, which is what they use instead of water. Fortunately, I was only a spectator there. Next time I go to South America in February I’m going to have to remember my trainers, they’ll be a lot easier to run in than Birkenstocks.

4. Dinosaur Tracks (Sucre) – For those of you dinosaur lovers, you’ll get a kick out of this place. It seems that a cement company was digging rocks out of its quarry but the material contained too much mercury so they abandoned the location. Little by little, over time, wind, and rain, the footprints of creatures from millions of years ago started showing up on the wall. This place it turns out, was a watering hole for those enormous and fierce animals who roamed the earth 15 and 20 million years ago.

At some point, the ground began to shift and this area was turned on its side so now it’s like a big mural of dinosaur tracks. It was pretty foggy the morning we went but if you look closely and use your imagination you’ll see the footprints. I will have to say that I’m going to give the award for the most excited tour guide to the guy who took us on our tour of the dinosaur museum. I’ve never seen a grown person that excited about anything in my life, especially not dinosaurs. I think they’re pretty cool but we all definitely got a kick out of his enthusiasm. Heck. He got us a little excited about it when he used his phone card to explain how the weather gently removed the dirt and rocks to reveal the footprints…pretty clever analogy. He also talked about their plans to preserve the wall using silicone. They also have some of the world’s only life size replicas of these gigantic creatures. Pretty neat stuff and I’m not even a big fan of dinosaurs.

5. Las Pampas de Amazon (Rurrenabaque) – You can visit the Amazon in just about every country in South America. And for the most part you will see the same types of animals. I heard the Amazon in Brazil is incredible and might actually have more types of animals than in Rurrenabaque but I don’t have first hand knowledge of that myself. But from people who have visited from Peru and Columbia’s Amazon, it sounds like we made out like bandits. It’s a short flight from La Paz to Rurre, just over an hour but in a bus it will take you around 15-18 hours. And although I had a round-trip ticket I have first hand knowledge of the road as well, thanks to a runway that was too muddy after the rains came.

So our journey into the Amazon became two journeys: the Amazonian pampas and the trip back to La Paz. There were lots of exciting moments on both trips and I’d have to say if I had to do it again I’d skip the jeep trip. That was a little too much excitement but that’s for later. First up, the pampas…Ross and I who were still traveling together, something like week seven, decided to head off on a 3 day, 2 night trip into the pampas. After a very bumpy, very dusty jeep ride we ended up at the river where our motorized canoe was waiting for us, along with about 500 mosquitoes, per person that is. They were everywhere and after the first two minutes I knew that our one bottle of OFF spray wasn’t going to go the distance. We hopped in the boat and once we got going the mosquitoes seemed to fade into the distance, which was fine by me. Don’t worry though, they weren’t far. I remember we stopped to look at some howler monkeys once and the front of our boat ran into a bush. In a matter of seconds we were surrounded by hungry mosquitoes. We all decided it was better not to stir up trouble like that again…talk about itchy.

I loved being in the boat and being on the move. Besides seeing great wildlife, it also gave you a chance against those blood sucking bugs. We had a good group which mainly consisted of people from Holland, a couple from Switzerland, and Ross and me. Our guide, who didn’t tell us his name or really speak for the first six hours or so actually ended up being a very good guide. He didn’t speak much English but he sure did know his animals and he was a great spotter. We saw three toed sloths, brown and black howler monkeys, cute little squirrel monkeys, a toucan, way too many caiman and alligators, an anaconda, and tons of birds. We also got to swim with pink (and they are so very pink!) dolphins on none other than Valentine’s Day.

I’m not much on touching animals and of course Ross had to point it out that I wasn’t being a good animal person when I held the baby anaconda that we found on our anaconda hunt. I also touched a real live, semi-wild, and incredibly large – think 15 feet or so, caiman on the nose. (I don’t think he was a big fan either.) I have video and you can hear me saying repeatedly, “This is stupid. This is so stupid.” And it was. I had to get so close to him to be able to touch his nose that if he’d wanted to he could have had me as a mid-day snack. We also went alligator hunting one night, with a flashlight of course. When you shine the light around you can see them because their eyes glow red. It’s pretty creepy. Those guys are everywhere, big ones, and baby ones, take your pick. My favorite though was swimming with the dolphins. At first they didn’t seem too interested in us but once we calmed down (it’s hard not to get excited about that kind of thing, even when you’re a grownup) they started coming around and I started singing in a very quiet voice songs from The Sound of Music (the only ones I could think of at the time). But apparently they’re big fans, too. A couple of times they swam really close and swam up against our feet and legs. They were so soft and slick, even under the water. And, as an added bonus, while the dolphins are around you don’t have to worry about alligators, caiman, or snakes. Yahoo!

It barely rained at all while we were in the Amazon but as soon as we started to leave it started raining. And it rained, and it rained, and it rained some more. The little grass runway couldn’t handle it and both airlines canceled flights for the next day. Ross and I, although we loved Rurre, really didn’t have time to spend a couple of days waiting for the runway to dry. Plus, who knew when or if it would quit raining. So, we started looking at other options. The bus was one but we didn’t care much for it. A jeep was our only other option. Neither of us was too hip on that as the road was a dirt road and it was sure to be in bad condition and we had already been warned about the road. That’s why we had sprung for the airplane tickets. With no real feeling on which was a better option we flipped a coin. Jeep ride it was.

We finally found a guy who had a jeep and was planning on heading to La Paz. Turns out, he makes that run five to six times a month. We ended up having a great group in the jeep which was good because with nine people (including the driver) it was pretty cramped. Once again, the jeep ride wasn’t in a jeep but in another Toyota Land Cruiser. Aaron, who ended up being friends with some of Ross’s friends (he was Irish as well) was one of our travel buddies (and my favorite); Andy, a Peruvian doctor (who told me I really didn’t need to take my malaria medication – sure hope he’s right about that); a couple from Holland; and a couple from England.

It was supposed to be an 11 hour ride but it ended up being 15 by the time we finally hit La Paz. The road was in terrible condition and we slid around the majority of the time. We also broke a leaf spring and had to stop to get that fixed at one point. Thankfully, things weren’t so muddy as the road narrowed. It’s easy to understand why there are so many accidents and deaths on this road. (It happens so frequently it doesn’t even make the news anymore.) Most of the time it’s a single lane road winding around the side of a mountain; it’s the same type of road we biked down. I’ll have to say I felt a lot better on the bike. At least I was in control and there was more room when you compare the width of a Land Cruiser to the width of a bike. I still can’t believe we didn’t die.

6. San Pedro Prison (La Paz) – This is the stuff that rumors are made of but this one is actually the gospel. It’s hard to imagine that anyone in their right mind would actually pay to go into a prison. Okay, maybe Alcatraz but that one hasn’t been open for a long time. This one is an honest to goodness, real-live, they send the bad people to live here prisons.

The odd thing is, is that not just the prisoners live there but their families live there as well. Wives, children, they all live inside the walls of San Pedro. Unlike any other prison (in the world, I’m sure) prisoners have to pay to live there. They have to pay when they get incarcerated, they have to buy their cell (or in this case, apartment), they have to buy their food (with the exception of one meal a day which is provided by the prison). The women and children are free to come and go as they please. The men however, have this luxury withheld from them.

The prison is like its own little city, complete with neighborhoods, markets, restaurants, hair salons. If they can afford it, you’ll see people talking on cell phones. They have cable in their “apartments” and most everyone his own kitchen. Everyone has a job, if they don’t, they won’t be able to support themselves and their families, if they have one.

The prison tours started back in the 1990’s when Thomas McFadden was incarcerated. He had “paid” for a night out on the town and ended up meeting a girl. She lived with him for several weeks (yes, inside the prison, and you thought I was nuts!), and then went off traveling with her friends. When she returned she brought with her some friends who were interested in seeing the inside of the prison. Everyone gets their cut from the tour which will cost you 250 Bolivianos. It comes complete with tour guide (our guide was from Portugal and was caught trafficking drugs) and body guards. Tourists are commonplace there and no one seems to mind the gringos wondering around the different sections. It’s also unbelievably easy to get inside. If you’re standing around the San Pedro plaza and you’re a gringo, I guarantee you within 20 seconds of touching the pavement, someone will be there asking if you’re interested in a prison tour.

If you want to liven up your tour, I suggest getting lost from your group, which I somehow managed to do. One minute everyone was in the kitchen, the next it was only me and about 10 guys whose job it was to cook the prison meals. I tried to remain calm and after seeing my life flash before my eyes and deciding that every person in the prison (except for my group and the bodyguards of course) knew that I was lost. After I was finally able to slow my runaway imagination, I stopped and looked around a little better. “We’ve already been that way, so more than likely they’re not that way,” was my first rational thought.

So, I walked quickly, trying my best not to act lost, out of the doorway of the kitchen, took a quick right and slowed down when I started coming up on the next corridor. I’ve never been so glad in my life to see my friend Evan, who happened to be a good foot taller than everyone else. I will have to say that the look on the bodyguard’s face when I came up from behind him and patted him on the back was, well, priceless. It was that “Oh my gosh, I could have lost my job!” look. At the beginning of the tour, the head bodyguard was telling him to make sure that he was the last one and that none of the tourists got separated. He obviously needs more training and I need to pay more attention to what’s going on.

I will have to say that after I was lost (and then thankfully found my group) I was ready to go. That rattled me a bit and the thought of all the things that could have happened wasn’t anything I wanted to think about. Nothing has ever happened to a tourist inside the prison. It’s one of those “don’t bite the hand that feeds you” type things. But still…not a good situation.

Because the majority of the people inside San Pedro don’t speak English, my Spanish came in handy. I especially enjoyed talking to Marco, one of our bodyguards. He was what I would consider a kid. He’s 26 years old and has been in San Pedro since he was 20. What did he do? He killed a man, on purpose. He received a sentence of 30 years he said. He will spend the majority of his life inside those prison walls. There are gangs inside the prison but he says he’s not involved in them. He pretty much sticks to himself. He said that now things inside the prison are pretty calm but that wasn’t the case when he first got there. He told me that since he’s been there four of his friends have been killed (inside the prison). When we talked more about it he said that even though it seems like a picnic because of how things are, it’s a bad place and he would much rather be anywhere than there. 30 years is a long time. I didn’t ask but I got the feeling that if he’d have known that this was what his life was going to consist of then he would have made different choices.

7. The Coca Museum (La Paz) – This little museum is really small, only two tiny rooms, but its chalk full of good information. And, don’t forget your reading glasses. As soon as you pay your 10 Bolivianos (an entertainment value), the guy behind the desk will hand you a packet. It’s a read as you go tour and they have pictures corresponding to each section in the booklet. The purpose of the museum is primarily education about the coca leaf and his purpose, tradition, and medical affects. The second is to address cocaine, to educate the public about the problems associated with it, and to help those who might try it out of curiosity steer clear of the stuff.

The coca leaf really is a tradition which in South America goes back to more than 1,000 years before Christ. In its natural form, the coca leaf is non-habit forming, and does not have the same negative effects/properties as cocaine. People who chew coca leaves don’t use cocaine, don’t even care about it, in fact in the mid-1990’s the booklet said that 40% of all cocaine produced in South America was consumed by Americans. Now where the other 60% goes, I don’t know but I know that the United States is only one country and around 10 years ago our country was consuming almost half of the supply. The coca leaf plays an important role in life here in South America, especially for those people who have difficult, manual labor jobs. Without the coca leaf they wouldn’t be able to work the hours they do which means they wouldn’t be able to support their families. Cocaine is definitely a bad thing but the coca leaf is not.

Two of the other things that really stick out in my mind that I read in the booklet had to do with cocaine. The first was that Coca-Cola really did contain cocaine when it was first produced. Now it doesn’t contain cocaine but they still use the coca leaf as flavoring…Interesting. The second had to do with a study involving monkeys and cocaine. They taught the monkeys how to push a button so they could get more cocaine. In the end, all of the monkeys died. The results: They said that in the end the monkeys didn’t care about anything other than the cocaine. They didn’t care about eating or sleeping. They essentially died of pleasure. This is absolutely hard to believe but it said that at the end the monkeys were getting 4,000 hits an hour. Of course, I think they should have been using people for the study instead of monkeys. What did they ever do to deserve that kind of treatment?

8. Biking the Most Dangerous Road in the World (Coroico – La Paz) – The last activity I had on my wish list for Bolivia was biking the most dangerous road. After we made it back from Rurre, I figured this would be a piece of cake. And I was right, not that it wasn’t scary at times but it was way too fun to be too scary. We got lucky and had a great group again. If you’re ever going to do this one, I highly recommend a company called Vertigo. Their guides are all certified and are always paying attention to what’s going on, always giving you a heads up about what’s up the road, all the while helping you to remember to have fun, ‘cause you’re on vacation after all.

I’ll have to admit. I have a bike. I haven’t ridden it in awhile. When I do ride it, I can’t always say that my bike and I are one. Matter of fact, the first time I rode it, it threw me (of course it wasn’t my fault) but we got passed that incident and have what I would consider a good relationship. I loved the bike I rode that day. I loved that the bike had good breaks (just kind of a big deal). I loved that it felt like we were old friends. Such good friends that I probably went faster than I ever have on my own bike. It was like being eight years old again. Peddling, peddling, going faster and faster, then coasting, just enjoying the wind on my face and the beautiful views.

It was just over 80 km, all down hill, except for a section of 9 km which we didn’t bike. These bikes were designed and rigged for downhill the guide told us. So when it came time, we packed them up on top of the van, hopped in, and then in no time at all, were back on the bikes, peddling fast and furious again. There isn’t as much traffic on the road these days since they completed the new road. We passed (and were passed by) several vehicles on the paved part of the road but fortunately only passed one vehicle on the narrow, gravel, original road. It was always exciting though, and you always had to be paying attention.

So that’s it for Bolivia. 19 days, 8 amazing activities. I’d do it again in a heartbeat…

Where's Waldo??? Oh! I mean KatieB, Katherine, Kay Beth, or however else you call me...

2009-03-12T01:10:00.002-05:00

Right now I'm in Bogota, Columbia. Oh my gosh! Yes, I just said that...Columbia. I know. I could get kidnapped, killed, tortured, all kinds of horrible things. I don't have that on my list of things to do this trip, maybe next time.

I've just got the blog typed up for Bolivia and will be posting it in the next few hours (I hope anyway). So, what does that leave you may ask? Some of the coolest places I've been since I've been gone is what it leaves! After leaving Bolivia, I made a quick stop in Arequipa, Peru, to say goodbye to friends and ship back the rest of my stuff I couldn't fit in my pack. And then...I went to the Galapagos Islands. Ahhhh-mazing!! Anyway, working on that blog as well.

The only other thing you're missing is this incredible place called Columbia where most Americans wouldn't dare think to go. But I did and as they say, it's made all the difference in the world.

So, that's what's coming up...I told myself I wasn't going to be typing these blogs from home so I've got some work to do. It won't be long and this incredible journey will be coming to an end and I want to make sure I remember it, plus enjoy what time I do have remaining.

The Missing Link...Traveling Through Paraguay & Argentina to Bolivia

2009-03-09T17:08:00.003-05:00

Note: As promised, my good friend Ross forwarded me the blog I had typed up but couldn't open. So, here it is, over a month later...

I know I'm skipping a few weeks here but several bizarre things have happened during the past few days that I really do want to write down as I'm afraid if I record them in order I will have forgotten most of them. So, I've decided to break with tradition and mix things up. Not that you haven't been missing anything the past three weeks or so. I've done lots of interesting things but these are bizarre. So, they preempt interesting in my mind at least.

Today is February 1st and right now I'm in a hotel room, which I overpaid for...I should have been paying 30 Bolivianos but instead I'm paying 50. It's amazing the things you will agree to when it's 1:30 in the morning and you're exhausted. But this part of the story began several days ago, so that's where I'll head...back to January 28th, to Asunción.

Setting: Asunción, Paraguay. Located near the border with Bolivia to the West and Argentina to the South.
Number of visitors outside of South America who come to visit: Not that many
Reason for such few visitors: Not really much to do there.

On the 28th of January, my traveling companion, Ross, and I left Cuidad del Este for Asunción. Cuidad del Este is where everyone from Bolivia, Brazil, and Argentina go to purchase electronic items. It's an absolutely crazy border town (just right across the river from Foz do Iguaçu, Brazil, where we spent a few days...more on that later.) There were people everywhere, selling anything and everything you can imagine, all for South America rock bottom prices, which aren't nearly as good as U.S. rock bottom prices. I did purchase an 8 gig memory stick for $30 which I think is a good deal, that is if it works.

Ross's camera had had problems since Torres del Paine when apparently it got dust on the sensor then got wet. So, for the past month, he'd been using my camera to take pictures while I took video. While we were visiting Iguaçu Falls on the Bolivian side, I suppose he'd had enough and really cracked into the thing. That went as planned but after he put it back together and then turned it on, he said it started smoking and that was all she wrote. He'd been looking for cameras along the way but couldn't find one that he really liked until Cuidad del Este. Now he and I both have a camera again. By the way, one little tidbit, if you're going to go to Cuidad del Este, do not go on a weekend. Everything will be closed. And never, never order from a menu without prices. I'll leave that one to your imagination.

From Cuidad del Este, we took a five hour bus to Asunción, which is on the opposite side of Paraguay. Once we arrived there we quickly found a place to stay the night, across the street from the bus terminal. If something ever says “Hotel” and “24 hours” on the same sign, my advice is it's a little sketchy. We got a deal on a room though, with air conditioning for 80,000 Guaranies, which translates to about $16. I can say a few nice things about the room. It had air conditioning, which when the temperate is 43 Celsius is pretty freakin' nice. (Think Oklahoma, August heat with full on humidity.) It also was probably the best mattress I've slept on since home and there was really hot water. And split between two people, it was pretty cheap. Other than that, that's the end of the nice things. Oh, I suppose, the fact that I'm pretty sure the sheets were clean is a good thing, forgot that one, sorry. We also didn't have to pay extra for our other roommates. I know, not sounding good...and it wasn't. There were two quite large roaches, although we found them dead in the morning, and there was an entire army of ants that had made there home in the bathroom. We didn't stay to see who showed up on night two.

For night two, we found a hostel near the city center, which we never visited. We did walk around looking for a museum that we never found. We also saw a dog who looked like he could use some food, so I bought some bread for him (not really great but what was near) and began following him down the street. When we caught up with him he had just walked into the courtyard of a hospital and no sooner had he walked in the gate when a little boy, probably 5 or 6 years old started picking up rocks and throwing them at him. I was stunned. It would have been a sad sight if the dog had been healthy but here was this child, in front of probably a dozen adults who did not even care enough to intervene, throwing rocks, kicking and hitting a dog who was at least 20 lbs. underweight. And the dog? He did nothing, except slowly walk away from the direction of the menace. I wanted to say something but I knew it would fall on deaf ears. So, instead, I walked up to both the dog and child, at which point the child stopped hitting the dog, and took out one of the pieces of bread and coaxed the dog out of the courtyard, all the while not saying anything to the child.

I don't know that the dog, who probably would be the finest friend a person could ever hope for, will make it much longer. I wanted to do more than give him one “meal” but I wasn't in a position to do more. Hopefully the child will remember that day the next time he sees a dog on the street and instead of throwing a fist he will offer his hand in kindness. After that, I was a little bummed, and I'm sure you can understand why. I don't remember much else about the day, other than I slept in a bed that wasn't too comfy, in a room with only a fan, thinking maybe my roommates from the previous night weren't too bad after all.

We had arranged for a taxi to drive us to the border the night before, and he showed up promptly at 11:00 to retrieve us. Ross at this point, wasn't feeling well at all having been up much of the night and the morning in the bathroom throwing up. Our ride to Falcon was uneventful but because of immigration we had to change taxis there to go to Clorinda where we could find a bus. The next taxi wasn't so great. It was hot that day and the only window that would roll down in the car was the drivers. With Ross feeling so poorly, we almost ditched the guy at immigrations and chanced finding another taxi, which would have been difficult not only because taxis don't wait there but because we only had 6 pesos left which just barely covered that taxi. So, we stuck it out and ended up waiting in Clorinda for our bus to take us to Salta.

As we were getting on the bus, Ross noticed tape across the bathroom door. When you're sick and in a new place, that's always the first thing you look for, the bathroom. 17 hours on a bus with no bathroom seemed impossible, so we took our seats and waiting for the bus to pull out. It wasn't too long after when Ross did go down to the bathroom and I could hear someone saying “cerrado” which didn't mean much to him but a world to me...closed. At that point, he wasn't sick but I can say he didn't appear as calm as he was before and I don't blame him one bit.

Once we got to Restincia (5 hours into the journey), we were told we needed to get off the bus and onto a different one. So, we grabbed our bags and went to the bus that not one but two people had directed us towards. While we where sitting there waiting to depart I kept hearing people talk about Buenos Aires. Ross was hearing it as well and started asking, “Are you sure this is the bus we're supposed to be on?” All I could say is what I had been told, so he went and asked again, since Buenos Aires, although wonderful, wasn't our destination of choice. Yes, we are on the right bus. That was until a young boy came up to us and asked if we were going to Salta. “Yes,” we replied. To which he responded, “You're on the wrong bus.” At this point, we were sure they were the most disorganized bunch of people we had ever encountered. So, we got off that bus and headed to another one. I was telling the guys standing outside that are bags were on the other bus and they kept telling me they were already on our “new” bus. If he hadn't said “todo” as in “all” I would not have gotten on that bus. Ross was concerned as well, and probably more hesitant than me to board the third bus because he knows very little Spanish, as in “Una mas cerveza por favor.”

We had an interesting meal on the bus that night, read for awhile, I finished Imperium, which is quite good. We played cards and finally slept for awhile after I was pretty sure the rest of the mosquitoes on the bus would stay away because like Crassus in the book, I had left the evidence of my strength and agility on the window next to me as fair warning to all the others who might think I was a tasty snack that night. We pulled into Salta at 7:00 and hung out in the station for the next two and half hours waiting on a bus to Jujuy. We had decided the night before we would go there, which was four hours away, stay the night, then take the earliest bus to La Quiaca (the border) so we could catch the train from Villaron to Uyuni. We were supposed to have a relaxing day of travel with plenty of time to spare and were enjoying the thought of traveling by train to our next destination.

Jujuy was an interesting town. We found our hostel right off, and got settled in. Then we went out for a look around town, ate non-Greek food at a Greek restaurant (I didn't see anything on the menu that was Greek.) Then we went in search of the post office, which we never found, but according to the map we walked by at least twice. The guy at the front desk was nice enough to take the postcards we already had stamps for and put them in the post for us. The rest, I'm still carrying with in hopes of someday finding a post office. We were hoping to mail them from La Quiaca but as you're soon to find out yesterday wasn't the best of travel days.

We left on the early bus to La Quiaca, 7:50 which should have gotten us to our destination around noon. That didn't happen though and we arrived an hour later than we originally thought, with only 6 pesos to spare after the baggage boy and Ross got into a semi-argument about what the guy would actually do with our bags if we didn't tip him. As the guy was taking our claim tickets, shredding them, and throwing them into the air, I was searching through my “Coins for Wilhite” stash. He finally picked out some that he liked which I don't even think were Argentinean and let us be. After that, we decided to go ahead and try to get some money out of the ATM. After months of me being the only one to be able to get money, Ross was finally the only one who was able to get some dinero and it’s a good thing because we didn’t realize it but we definitely were going to need some and pretty quickly.

We then found a taxi which was supposedly, for 5 pesos, going take us to Villaron. Yeah. Right. He drove us about 4 blocks then stopped and took out our bags. In front of us...the line for immigration. “You have GOT to be kidding me,” I said out loud. There must have been 50 or 60 people in line. After Ross went up to the front to scout out the situation and came back reporting that there was only one guy working, I was quite sure, even with the hour we were going to gain heading into Bolivia, that it was unlikely that we were going to make that train. We had arrived in La Quiaca just before 1:00 which meant we had an hour less than we had originally planned. We were both hungry at that point but knew that we needed to get across the border before we did anything about food. Almost three hours later, we were finally handing our passports to the kid behind the barred window. We then scuttled with full packs in tow to the Bolivian side, which interestingly enough seemed much more organized although not much friendlier than the Argentinean immigration office. We quickly filled out our paperwork...it was now a little past 3:00 and the train left at 3:30.

I have noticed how not-so-popular Americans are these days and it's especially evident when you look at the visa fees. For Brazil it was $150 US for a 30 day visa, in Paraguay it was $45 US for a 15 day visa (single entry), and Bolivia is $135 US and is only good for 30 days. The man at the Bolivian consulate office in Argentina told me I could get my visa at the border but when I got there the man basically told me (all in Spanish, which at this point in my life, I'm getting quite good at understanding) that he couldn't give me a visa there but I could get one in La Paz, that it was $135 ($5 more than the consulate office had said), and that I needed to get it before leaving the country and if not, they would kill me. He said all this with no so much as a hint of a smile while drawing an imaginary line across his throat with his finger for extra effect.

I'm not sure if the guy ahead of me had made him mad or if that's how he greets all Americans but I definitely got the hint. The guy in front of me, who actually, is a great guy, was apparently disagreeing with him about the cost of a visa, apparently on their website it still says Americans don't have to pay. And since bribery is one of the most common things you're likely to see in Bolivia I don't blame him for thinking the guy was making it up. The reason why this guy is so great? He acted like a cambio when Ross and I didn't have enough Bolivianos to buy two train tickets and it was 15 minutes before the train was to leave. He traded me 150 Bolivianos for exactly $21 US, the going rate, and I was able to purchase the two tickets between that money and the money Ross had gotten a few minutes earlier.

Needless to say, our last hours in Argentina and our first half hour in Bolivia were a little stressful. Besides what was happening at the immigration offices, as soon as we crossed the border into Bolivia, the biggest storm kicked up and although it never actually started raining, the wind was kicking up all kinds of stuff from the dirty street and flinging it into our faces as we walked quickly towards the train station. I remember the first few minutes on the train just wiping dust off my arms, my face, and my back.

The train ride was interesting and a much needed respite from the overnight buses. Although it was eight hours, it really didn't seem that long and there really was some pretty scenery. I also learned that trains can get stuck in the mud but was impressed at how efficiently the crew worked to clear the tracks so we could continue. At nightfall, you could see the remnants of the storm in the distance which although far away was still impressive.

We headed off into the night once we arrived at the station in Uyuni in search of a hostel with two German girls who had gone through the same predicament as us that day. After almost being accosted in the street upon arrival by a drunk lady, thinking I was going to witness another group of kids beat up on some street dogs (they only talked about hitting them, thank goodness), and finally deciding to take a taxi drivers advice on a place to stay, which is never a good idea, we found some beds for the night, which brings me to where I am right now.

I think we're going to visit a train cemetery today. Then tomorrow head off on a three or four day journey to the Salt flats. I've seen some incredible pictures from there and am looking forward to coming up with some interesting poses. After that, we think we're heading to Potosi to visit the silver mines, then Sucre to see dinosaur tracks. Then we have plans to take a bus to La Paz to visit San Pedro Prison and hopefully bike the most dangerous road in the world. It's the rainy season now and although I may be crazy and adventurous, I'm not yet stupid so we'll just have to see how it goes. But for now at least, that's the plan.

One little part I've forgotten to tell you about (at least I think I forgot it) was the Tati Yupi conservation area we visited near Cuidad del Este. It is an area that is overseen by the Itaipu dam and supposedly is a neat place to visit. Let me tell ya...Ross and I had a blast...not. We took a buggy ride with the wildest horse on the planet. We took a very strange horse ride in a corral, and then a bike ride down the same road we came in on and then another we took the buggy ride on...oh my. At least it was free, except for the taxi we had to pay to take us there and back. Don't think that that guy didn't have a laugh at our expense, literally.

Lots of Water and Beautiful Birds & One Very Large Dam: Argentina & Brazil (& Paraguay)

2009-02-24T17:44:00.030-06:00

Sometime in January I headed up on a flight to Puerto de Iguazu via airplane (instead of catching the 19 or so hour bus). The flight only took a little over an hour, maybe more. I will have to say if you’re going to fly around South America, check into LAN. I really do like that airline. They still believe in handing out drinks and snacks, and they always play the funniest shows. Plus, twice now my bags have exceeded the 20 kilo weight limit, not by much but even when Ross’s bag came in at a hefty 28 kilos, they didn’t charge either one of us, something that definitely doesn’t happen with other airlines as I’m sure some of you have figured out already. I know I’ve had to pay three times in my life so far. Thank you United...Not!

It didn’t take us long to get settled into our new little home, a cool hostel on the outskirts of town. This was my first hostel with a pool that actually had water in it, which came in handy given how steamy it was. Ross described it as a summer camp with alcohol, and I’d have to say that’s pretty accurate. They had great meals there at bargain prices, although there was some false advertising. In my opinion, bar-b-que, means bar-b-que, not just meat cooked on the grill. No matter what you want to call it, the food was good. They even had a tango show one night. Like I said, a pretty cool place.

The following day, we took an odd tour of the Argentinean side of Iguazu. We got picked up okay, then once we arrived, the driver said, just pay the entrance fee and you’ll see some people in yellow shirts. Well, sounds easy enough but for what we paid, this was one of the most unorganized tours I took the whole time I was in South America. We did finally find the guys in yellow and took a jungle tour (it was just a truck ride) to the river. We all loaded on the boat and were headed up the river to the falls when something didn’t seem right. Our driver thought so as well, so they called for another boat to pick us up. Instead of turning around and going back to the dock, they brought the other boat nose-to-nose with ours, in swift currents, and got all the people to transfer to the new boat. Those of you who know me well, know I’m a sailor and one of the cardinal boating rules is NEVER step into a boat with anything in your hands. But here we were, hands jam-packed with our daypacks, cameras, video recorders, etc. stepping from one boat to another, in a current most excellent swimmers would have had trouble surviving, if they had fallen overboard. I’m not a safety freak but I obviously wasn’t too happy about the way that was handled.

After our drenching boat ride, our so called organized “tour” was over and we were free for the rest of the day to wander around to all the various look out points. It was a little cloudy that day and it seems to take forever for us to dry but by mid-afternoon, the sun had come out and it was baking hot. We had a brilliant time wandering from vista to vista and took probably a gazillion photos. I remember Ross and I having a discussion about the park and saying that someone should have told us this little tidbit of infomation. So, just so you know, you really do have to be paying attention to the train schedule if you’re going to be picked up by a tour company at the gate later in the day. The trains run pretty frequently but it’s easy to get caught up with all the stops on the way out to the big stop, La Garganta del Diablo, and not make the train back to the main gate in time. I guess is what I’m saying is plan ahead and keep track of the time. We made it, but it was only because we were really fast walkers and were a bit lucky.

We ran into some guys on our bus (one of whom had the worst sunburn I’ve ever seen in my life…on his foot) who said that you didn’t need to bother going to the Brazilian side of the falls. And if it hadn’t been for a strange turn of events I would have missed out, big time. So, here’s the rest of the story…

The next day, Ross and I went into town to figure out how to get to Paraguay. He needed to replace his camera and we had heard that was the best place to do it. At least that’s where everyone in South America goes to buy electronic equipment. Plus, do you know anyone who’s been to Paraguay? More than likely not, I only know three people and Ross and I are two of them.

We finally found a tour agency that said they could get me to Paraguay without going through Brazil. It had never been done before but it would work. One of the frequent problems I ran into is being American. And the reason why seems to be because it’s so difficult to get into America. If we charge a lot for a Brazilian to enter the States you can bet that it will cost you a fortune to enter Brazil. Because I wanted to head to The Galapagos (where I’m headed to tomorrow) I had pretty much made peace with the fact that I’d just have to come back to Brazil…150 dollars for a 30 day visa is pretty pricey, especially when I just wanted to go see water. Plus, I knew I was already going to have to pay $45 to get into Paraguay and then another $135 to get into Bolivia. I didn’t like the fact that I was going to miss Brazil but as I said, I had made peace with it and I had supposedly found a way to bypass the Brazilian visa and still go to Paraguay so we were set. Until the taxi driver came to pick us up the next morning.

No, you can’t get to Paraguay without going to Brazil and buying a Brazilian visa first. So, as you can imagine, it was like a circus trying to get our money back from the agency. And since I had to buy a visa for Brazil, Ross and I decided to make the best of it; we were going to the Brazilian side of the Iguazu Falls. And man, am I ever glad we did. Anyone who says you don’t need to go to both sides is a dork. It’s like two totally different worlds. On the Argentinean side you’re actually on top of the falls for the most part. On the Brazilian side you’re underneath them. It’s a completely different angle.

If you’re ever going to head to Foz do Iguaçu, then you really should stay at Hostel Natura. It’s a great little family-run hostel. It’s out in the middle of nowhere but it’s really worth the effort to get out there. (Just don’t try to walk down the dirt road after it rains…unbelievably muddy.) They’ve got a pool, excellent food, and lots of space to just chill out. It’s almost like being at home except for the place was spotless. I don’t have any desire to clean that much.

Besides going to the waterfalls, there is also a water park which has really cool water slides. Andrew, Andy, Ross, and I took turns acting like we were 12 again, high-tailing it back up the stairs almost as soon as we had hit the water. I don’t have any pictures but Andrew did have a waterproof camera so he does have some pictures and video. Hopefully he’ll remember to send it on once he’s recovered from Carnaval in Salvador.

Another completely cool thing to do in Foz do Iguaçu is to go to the Parque des Aves (Bird Park, for those of you who don’t speak Portuguese). They had an incredible amount of birds there. They even had several cages you could walk through, although I can see how that could be dangerous. There were a few signs about birds being a little aggressive but I was more worried about falling objects i.e. poo. They not only had birds there but they also had a great butterfly exhibit, some monkeys, and snakes. One of my favorite exhibits was the enormous hummingbird exhibit. When you walked through the place you could hear (and see) hummingbirds zipping around which was a little wild and nerve-racking but also really cool. Just as you’re about to finish your self-guided tour there’s an open area where they have a parrot and a snake that you can hold. Of course, Ross and I couldn’t resist.

And the fun doesn't stop there. Before leaving for Paraguay via taxi, we decided to go have a look at the Itaipu Dam which is between Brazil and Paraguay. I've been on a tour of Hoover Dam and this makes that one look rinky-dink. It is enormous! As far as size goes, it's not the biggest dam in the world (I believe that one's located in China) but even not being at full capacity, they produce the most energy. Technically, Ross and I went on the "Spanish" tour so we wouldn't have to wait another couple of hours (bad planning on our part) but it worked out alright and most of the time the girl would explain to us in English as well. Translating isn't too hard but some figures are unbelievable and when you go to repeat them, you go, "Nah, I couldn't have heard that right." But sure enough, you did.

We had a great time on the tour. Both Brazil and Paraguay have their own tours. They actually share the dam 50-50 and both people from both countries work side by side. Even though Paraguay is South America's poorest country (next to Bolivia), the technology they have available to them is incredible. A portion of the dam may be located in a 3rd world country but it's a 1st rate facility. Right now, they are able to produce 90% of Paraguay's energy needs and 20% of Brazil's consumption. They also give you cool shoes and a little hard hat to wear. It doesn't get much better than that as far as I'm concerned!

The next portion of this journey is the part I have already written but don’t have. I did have it. I had it on a 16 gig memory stick I bought for $6 in Cuidad del Este. The memory stick is now in the trash somewhere in Peru. Ross, who is also at Carnaval but in Rio has promised to email it to me when he gets back to Ireland, which won’t be long.

The Things I Remember About Argentina & Uruguay...Seriously

2009-02-22T18:54:00.026-06:00

It’s hard to count on one hand the number of stories I’ve started but for one reason or another was never able to post. I’m sitting right now in the Lima airport thinking that this place isn’t so intimidating the second time around. It seems like such a long time ago I came through here as confused as a person could be just hoping and praying I would make it out of the airport and to the hotel. Today, it’s a different story. I can carry on a conversation with the taxi driver, not get totally hosed on the fare, and can read the majority of the signs along the way. But on to more something more interesting...

I’m not exactly sure when I last wrote but I think it was before I reached Buenos Aires, which was almost a month ago. My grand plan was to keep these blogs in order, more for me than you (sorry) but sometimes life doesn’t work out the way you planned. At least that’s the story of my life.

Traveling in South America has been an incredible experience. Even the experiences and places I’ve been that haven’t been all that have been an integral part of this journey. And the people I’ve met along the way? I couldn’t replace them if I tried. As I type, I am now traveling solo once again, something I haven’t done in eight weeks. I didn’t even realize that I had it in me to be around someone for that long, especially when you consider it was pretty much 24-7. Most married couples don’t spend that much time together. It was a good experience though and I couldn’t have asked for a better traveling buddy than Ross. He’s in Rio now enjoying his last week of his journey (at Carnaval, of course) and I’m sure is getting a little nervous about heading back to Ireland (it seems as they have more problems there than in the States).

My journey should have ended almost a month ago. However, there are some things that you can and should put off and one of them for me was going home. I could have done things a little differently and might have been able to fit in everything I wanted to do but I’m so glad I didn’t make that flight. I do hope I make this one though. I’m patiently awaiting a TACA flight to Guayaguil, Ecuador, that is supposed to take off at 11 o’clock this morning. From there, I am hoping to find a dive shop so I can get certified for open water diving. It’s amazing how quickly 18 years slips by. I had taken the course and the test once before but due to a broken leg wasn’t able to do my logged dives. I’ve been scuba diving several times but apparently you have to have your license here, so I figured what the heck! I also want to spend several days in the Galapagos Islands so it looks like my plans to hang out in Columbia have been cut in half already. I will have to travel up that way, as I do have a ticket back to Miami from Bogota. And I am really looking forward to going there before it becomes part of the infamous “gringo trail”.

Since I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to post my story from Paraguay at some point I’m going to skip that for now and start, well, gee, I might as well go all the way back to Buenos Aires, although I really do have some fantastic things to say about Bolivia. So, Buenos Aires it is.

If I were asked to come up with a saying for Buenos Aires it would be: Buenos Aires, a city full of passion. They really did go all out when they built the city (think Paris) and if you consider Eva Peron and her history with the people of Buenos Aires, and the tango, the dance of passion, you will understand my thinking. It seems like everything there is more full of life than in the rest of Argentina or maybe it’s because sometimes I can be a bit sappy and sentimental. But I did love it. I loved it so much that I’m pretty sure in total I spent almost two weeks there. I’m not even sure how that happened.

Ross and I took a city tour, guided by a college economics student (he did a great job), which was extremely interesting and free, to boot. For three hours we walked around the main points of the city, found out who Roca was and why people are constantly throwing paint at his statue, and stood in a square that had more clock towers than there are in all of Oklahoma. If I were writing this a month ago I could give you all kinds of interesting details but then again you can also go on Wikipedia, so I’m going to let them handle the statistical information.

The hostel where Ross and I were staying had free tango lessons so we took advantage of that one night. That’s when I fell in love, not with Ross, with tango. What a dance! I enjoyed doing it but I especially enjoyed the Complejo Tango Show we went to see. I have no doubt that all those dancers were just friends but the way they danced made you believe they were lovers. I really do hope that no matter where I end up, that I’ll be able to keep up my salsa, merengue, and now tango dancing. We also went on our own walking tour which according to Lonely Planet was supposed to take a couple of hours…it took us two days.

There are three things I really remember about our self-guided tour. The first is the Recoleta Cemetery. Most people go there to see Eva Peron’s crypt, if you’re not sure who I’m talking about think, “Don’t cry for me Argentina…” which no matter who you are for some reason this song will play over and over again in your head. (Well, at least it did in mine.) But the cemetery has so much more to offer than that. It’s like its own little city with these ornate, little houses…filled with dead people or at least their ashes. I got a kick out of counting how many urns or caskets I could find inside one crypt. They really are close-knit families here. And the cats! Who could forget the cats? Ross, who at first was really giving me a hard time about petting them, talking to them, and taking their photos, also ended up, by the time we left, taking photos of crazy cats as well. My Aunt Minerva would have loved the place (who’s the biggest cat fan I know).

I almost didn’t see Eva’s crypt though. It’s hard to imagine that after spending almost three hours in a cemetery that probably only takes up three city blocks that you couldn’t find someone. But it’s true. I had to ask someone who had a map for directions. I thought about leaving without seeing it, it might have been better than way. By the way, hers is pretty non-descript, a simple black marble, family crypt. The only difference is hers is always covered in flowers.

The second thing I remember about our tour what right outside the cemetery there was a band playing music in the street. I remember this couple who where walking by, just like us, and they just stopped walking, turned towards each other, and then started dancing. I don’t know how long they had been together but they definitely looked like they were in love and enjoyed each other’s company.

The final thing I remember clearly about our tour is the biggest flower in probably the world. If you’ve ever been to Chicago, think the giant bean and you’re getting pretty close. At night, the petals close and it glows red. I didn’t get to see it at night, only during the day (I did see pictures), and although it’s one of those things you look at and go “Why?” it is still pretty incredible.

Between weeks in Buenos Aires, we caught a boat to Montevideo, Uruguay. It was an enormous boat, more like a ferry because along with people, they also shipped over vehicles. It was a nice trip; strange thing is that I remember much more about the boat than Uruguay. We stayed in Montevideo for a night then took off to Punta del Este, the beach resort where the who’s who of Buenos Aires goes to play. It is a nice beach area but if you were to ask Ross what he thought, he’d tell you those beaches could have been anywhere in the world. The coolest part about Punta del Este? The marina of course! I got up early one morning and headed out with my camera and fought the urge to take millions of sailboat pictures. I got to see the fishermen come in with their fresh catch and see the mini-fish market right next to where they docked their small boats. But the boats there! There is a lot of money sitting in that marina. Not what you’d expect to see in South America but there it was. And I’ll have to hand it to them; they’re a lot more creative with their names down here.

I also saw a male sea lion who had been injured by a prop. I’m hoping that he’s doing okay. Ross and I had seen him the night before when we walked down by the marina and a couple of people had thrown him some fish. In the morning the fish were gone and fresh flowers had been thrown down around him. The third time I saw him he was sitting up with his neck stretched up into the air. So maybe the big guy will make it.

And of course, you can’t go to Argentina and now try the meat, for which they are famous. And it is quite tasty. The wine is also something that you should definitely enjoy while there. There are so many varieties there that more than likely everyone can find something that tickles their fancy. As you can probably tell by the commentary on the meat, I wasn’t too impressed with the steak. We’ve got some pretty tasty stuff back home as well and my buddies back home with their grills could probably give any Argentinean a run for his money any day of the week.

As I’ve been typing it’s occurred to me that I failed to write anything about Puerto Madryn. Now, that place (which is around a 20 hour bus ride south of Buenos Aires), if you can visit at the right time of the year, would be amazing. In October to November there’s great whale watching. And, if you’re there in February you will be in one of only two places in the world where you can watch Orcas beach themselves to pluck baby sea lions off the beach. They also have elephant seals but I don’t remember what time of year you have to be around to see the males with their huge elephant like noses. Most of the time they’re out to sea, hunting for food. But the Orcas, who all have names, and are recognized by their dorsal fins, are pretty cool. If I’m ever back down there you can bet it’ll be in February.

One very freaky, scary, and totally cool thing happened while I was snorkeling. We were all kind of separated but close to the boat and a rock wall, dorking around in the water. I was out a little farther than everyone else at that point but close to the rock wall looking for fish and anything else that looked interesting. I was just about to get a little bored when I caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of my eye. My first though was “SHARK!!!!” and then, no, it’s not a shark. “OH MY GOSH!!! It’s a SEA LION!!!” For a minute I thought “Oh! How cool!” Then my next thought was, “Oh! I hope he’s not aggressive, ‘cause he is B-I-G.” He didn’t see me though and he continued to swim towards the little jetty where the rest of the sea lions were sunning themselves. It was pretty exciting there for a bit. I can imagine how people quickly use up all their oxygen while swimming with sharks.

Another event you can witness if you come during January is the Dakar Rally. Talk about cool stuff. It’s a motorcycle, car, and truck race that makes a gigantic loop through Argentina and Chile. It’s almost 19 days of pure adrenaline. On average, one person dies during the race each year. There was a motorcyclist who died this year but they weren’t really sure why, possibly a heart attack. I obtained this information from the 3rd place truck team (Go Holland!) who just happened to be celebrating at an Irish bar. Of course I didn’t have my camera so I have no proof but I do know that the guys who said they came in 5th didn’t, at least the guy who said he was the driver wasn’t the driver (he was at least wearing a team shirt). It’s pretty easy to verify pickup lines these days with the invention of the internet. Seriously.

So, that’s almost it for Argentina. I’m just missing Iguazu Falls. I didn’t miss it really, I just haven’t written about it yet. But that’s another story and my battery on my computer is almost dead so it’ll have to wait. Got some great pictures though and can’t wait to post them!

Always, And I Mean ALWAYS, Have An Exit Strategy

2009-01-25T03:41:00.011-06:00

Author's note: Lost one of my toenails two days ago. I'm still in shock. I can't believe that really needed to be one of my life experiences. I was always happy to have my feet and toes; I'm still happy, just a little disturbed when I see them now.

After a day of relaxation and several warm showers, I was ready to hit the road again. Next up on my list of things I wanted to see...the Perito Moreno Glacier. It's located near El Calafate, Southern Patagonia, Argentina. After seeing the glacier, I wanted to spend some time in Bariloche, then thought it would be best to head towards Buenos Aires. It seemed like an excellent plan and it would have worked wonderfully if I would have known a little bit about travel in Southern Argentina.

Generally I'm a fly by the seat of my pants type girl, not something I've decided to change about myself but like anything it has its pros and cons. On New Years Eve, I decided to buy a bus ticket for El Calafate and was trying to tell Ross that if he didn't want to stay in Puerto Natales any longer than he really should buy a ticket somewhere now as tomorrow everything would be closed. Carla was on the phone with the bus company when he said, "Make that two please."

So, that was how I came to have a traveling companion, which by the way, a month later, I still have. It's amazing how people can have the same itineraries and how yours can change based on what someone else has heard. We enjoyed the rest of our time in Puerto Natales, mainly relaxing, and getting our packs organized for our next adventure. I really was wanting to do a glacier hike but there was no way my feet were going to be able to handle boots with crampons. Like I said earlier, I like my feet; I try to take really good care of them. Plus, now knowing what I missed out on in Argentina, there are plenty of opportunities on my next trip to do some glacier hiking/climbing. On the 2nd of January, a man in a small pickup truck came to pick us up at our hotel. It was supposed to be a bus. And so began our adventure...

If it hadn't been for the other guy in the truck already I would have been more and at the same time less confused. He introduced himself and was strangely acting like this "was" our bus. At the same time, I thought, there's no way the driver can get rid of all three of us at the same time so surely this will work out. And it did. We ended up on a microbus which I sharply stated that I thought would be our transportation across the border, then on we'd go on the big comfy bus we'd paid for. Ross agreed that that was a good assumption. I thought I was brilliant for that idea.

At the border crossing, the driver asked if we had Argentinian pesos. I said, "No. Well, yes, but we're just going to El Calafate." That's when he informed us that we were going to Perito Moreno. "What? We just bought a ticket to El Calafate, we wanted to see the glacier but we have a ticket to El Calafate." Because we had given our ticket to the man driving the little blue truck we didn't know what we had bought exactly and he obviously had no clue. Our next question was, "Will we have time to change our shoes?" As Ross and I both had flip flops on, which weren't going to do much on a glacier tour. "Sure, no problem. So you want to go?" I looked at Ross, he looked at me, and we said "Why not?!?" as we started to giggle and both wondered how this all had happened.

We made it to the glacier, which was absolutely enormous and breathtaking. It was incredible to hear the ice cracking but when it actually broke off and fell into the lake below, that was more than both of us could stand. I decided that it looked like something out of the original Superman movie, the part where you see where he was born. It was that spectacular. The white, mixed with the light blue, then in some places you could see the deep blue color inside the crevices. It was mesmerizing.

We also opted for the boat ride while we were there which took you up to within 75 feet of the glacier wall. This is one of the very few glaciers in the world which isn't receding, which means that for all the ice that falls into the lake during a day, that amount becomes glacier ice the same day at the very back of the glacier. They also said that because it warms here, the glacier ice forms even more quickly than it does in Antarctica. I learned lots of impressive facts, which unfortunately I'm not able to give to you right now. I can remember that the glacier is almost 100 feet tall in the front (which is basically all you see) and this is one of the very few glaciers where you can witness ice breaking off. It's hard to describe the sound, it's more like a combination of the loudest thunder you've ever heard and a bomb going off.

The cracking noise it makes all throughout the day is about as impressive though. There are several pathways that lead you down to within a stone's throw of the glacier and when you close your eyes and just listen...well, it will give you goosebumps all over. Another interesting tidbit...the Argentinian Navy tried to blow up the glacier at one point because it had grown so big it was blocking up the lake and flooding all the farmlands. So, what did they do? They dropped a bomb on it. Seriously. It didn't work though. After some of the other Argentinian Navy stories I've heard I'm beginning to wonder if they need more training. They also tried to kill Orcas off the coast of Puerto Madryn because people said they were eating too many sealions and they would loose one of their main sources of income, tourism. They didn't even succeed at that.

After the tour, we headed back to El Calafate, where the microbus driver dropped us off. (The rest of our group was heading back to Puerto Natales.) After we found some accommodations for the night we high-fived on our "bus ticket" to El Calafate. In all, we had paid a little under $30 American for a five hour bus ride to El Calafate and a four hour tour at the Perito Moreno Glacier. Talk about an entertainment value! We were absolutely giddy about it still the next morning, until we went to the bus station and heard that there were no buses to Bariloche until the 7th.

Well, that's not so bad...no buses. Don't get discouraged. Let's check for planes. There was one from El Calafate but it wasn't cheap. Okay, what about flying to Buenos Aires. There was one but again, it wasn't cheap but it was less expensive. If I'd been paying in Euros it would have been tolerable. We decided to go get some lunch and think about it. Bad move on our part. While we were eating and making a decision to go ahead and head to Buenos Aires, the office was closing, for the day. Ouch. So, okay, what about renting a car? It would only take two days, driving almost all night to get there. We could do it though. Bad idea...it's way more than a plane, plus you have to pay for mileage. Who has to pay for mileage anymore in this day and age? Ugh.

We wandered around again and found another travel place open. No, no more flights to anywhere, until the 5th. What? Well, there is one to Buenos Aires but it was Executive instead of Coach which meant it was three times as expensive. Forget it. Lets go back to the bus station. So we did, with this question on the tip of our tongue, "Where can we get a bus to tomorrow?" The answer? You can go to Rio Gallegos, (which was four hours south of where we were) then from there you can go to Puerto Madryn. We had no clue what was there. We liked El Calafate and it's a wonderful place to be, except when you want to leave. Another thing about the place? They weren't lying when they said that you have to wait in line for the ATM. I've never in my life seen more than two or three people waiting outside an ATM. Here, if you were 10th or 15th in line, then you were extremely fortunate. And more often than not, the ATM would be out of cash. Although you can find a bank on almost every corner, they definitely need to do something about the ATMs there.

So, it was settled, we were heading to Puerto Madryn and would be there after almost 24 hours in a bus. We started looking in the guidebooks to see what there was to do there, got our stuff packed up and ready to go. I was thankful that Ross had an iPod as he had connected mine to his computer in Puerto Natales and wiped off all my music. I was okay with listening to Irish music for the next day and would have, if he hadn't left his iPod in a restaurant in Rio Gallegos. We called later and I talked to the guy. They had his iPod, and they would send it to the hostel in Buenos Aires. After almost two weeks, they still haven't sent it. Apparently they like Irish music, too.

So, up next. The Puerto Madryn tour guide. Lesson learned: There are some times when it's really best to plan ahead. I really did want to go to Bariloche. And someday I will, it just won't be on this trip. I hear it's a really cool place though. Maybe I'll visit in the wintertime, then I can do some snowboarding.

Torres del Paine, Where "The W" Stands for Wicked

2009-01-17T14:30:00.010-06:00

On Christmas Eve I ran into Daniel. I asked him if he had been to Torres del Paine and he smiled and said, "Yes, I have." My next question was something to the effect of how long, where did you go, what did you do. I'll never forget his response. "It was the most difficult thing I've ever done. It was terrible, it was incredible, there was rain, there was snow, there was sunshine, my pack was heavy but it was also one of the most incredible things I've ever done. It was amazing and I experienced all of it." Daniel had done a 5 day, 4 night trek on the 'W' at Torres del Paine, near Puerto Natales, Southern Patagonia, Chile. I don't think Daniel got through his gratis advertisement for Torres del Paine when I had made up my mind that I was going to go. He continued on with his stories with such excitement I could just feel the energy welling up inside, ready for a chance to go have this same experience (well, maybe without the rain and snow).

Unfortunately, it was Christmas Eve and everything was just closing as I developing plans for my next big adventure. Daniel had also told me about a meeting that takes place, free of charge, at Erratic Rock. This is the name of the hostel were I stayed before taking off to do my hike. Apparently it's where all the cool kids hang out and I was finally a member of the gang but even if you're not, you can still come in and hang out and listen to how to prepare for the W or the definitely-not-for-beginners 10 day circuit, which I didn't opt for. They not only told you the best way to hike the trek but they also went through what you needed to bring with.

I was hoping to meet another "single" at the meeting so I wouldn't be hiking alone and there were two guys. Both were from England and nice enough for sure but when they started talking about doing the thing in 4 days, then maybe in 3, I politely said "peace". I'm not in bad shape but I'm not a professional hiker either. And I was going to see things and take pictures, not break a world record, which I think is around 18 hours for the whole thing by the way.

Later that day, a few of us decided to go out for a nice Christmas dinner then on to a club, which is where I met my first Irishman, Ross. I will have to say that for a brief 12 hours we almost were on our way to Antarctica. He had met some American guys on the Navimag who were trying to get there. When he asked me if I'd want to go I don't even think I hesitated when I said "Yes!" He then wanted to make sure I was serious, which I was, so it was planned, the next day we would either go to Antarctica or pack our things to head on a 5 day trek. Obviously by the title of this blog, Antarctica wasn't in the cards for us.

After going to three different stores, we finally had rented everything we needed, including trekking poles, which if you haven't ever used them aren't just for losers. They really do come in handy, especially when the wind is gusting up to 90 km an hour and you have a 15 kilo pack on your back. We had also decided on our menu for the trip and had plenty of snacks. One of the coolest things about hiking in Torres del Paine is that you can drink the water out of the lakes and streams. It's amazing that on the same continent where in one country they warn you about eating fresh fruits because they were probably rinsed with water that hasn't been boiled, that you can also go and drink lake water. Something I try not to do even at home. But it's true and I did it along with probably 98% of the people who hike there. And it is delicious water. I know that sounds odd but it's the truth. It's amazing!

So, what did I experience? The same thing that Daniel had been telling me the first day we met. When we started hiking, it was raining and absolutely frigid and windy. It was absolutely miserable. It had been sunny just before we took the boat to the trailhead when we walked to the milky-teal colored waterfall. Which if we hadn't missed our boat we would have missed out on...some things really do work out for the best.

We started trekking at Pehoe which was 15 km away from where we wanted to stay the night, Los Guardas. Our plan was to sleep right next to Glacier Grey that night. And I can tell you, I found it really hard to put back on my boots after stopping at Refugio Grey for some hot tea. It was still miserable out and although I was seeing some beautiful scenery, it wasn't anywhere close to really fun and incredible, although it did have some moments with spectacular scenery.

We did make it to our destination though and once we got the tent set up and had gotten changed out of our wet clothes we were ready for our first meal, spaghetti. That was until we figured out that the gas cans we had wouldn't fit the burner. After searching the campsite for a burner that would fit, which only was the temporary home to about a dozen other trekkers, some very nice girls from Israel loaned us their gas and burner. Talk about relieved. I think we both needed that meal more than we realized. It had been a long, wet, and cold day and the night was about to get colder.

If you've ever been getting ready for your second day of lake bumming and realized that you had to put on a wet swimsuit, then you know exactly how I felt when I had to put my 'day clothes' back on the next morning. They weren't really that wet but they were definitely cold. So cold that when I touched them I almost decided it was better to stay at Los Guardas another night. That way I could just stay in my nice dry, semi-warm clothes I already had on. But that wasn't possible and I knew that come nightfall I'd be glad that I kept my 'dry clothes' in the plastic bag in my pack.

We had another long day of hiking which just so happened to include hiking back the way we'd come plus another 7.6 km for a grand total of almost 23 km for Day 2. Fortunately the weather was better as there wasn't much rain. It was still cold though and most of the time I was hiking with full on gear just to stay warm. That night we camped at Italiano. Because we left late we arrived about 10:30 that night...about dusk. It's pretty wild when you think about getting over 18 hours of daylight. While it makes it hard to go to sleep at 10 o'clock, it also beats hiking in the dark down a trail you've never been on.

The next morning after a bowl of oatmeal with enough brown sugar to keep you buzzed for the rest of the morning we set off for Valle del Frances, without our packs. It was so nice to not be lugging around that extra weight and it made for much easier hiking. We hiked the 5 km up to the clearing, stood in amazement for a bit, then took some pictures, did our daily weather report (I have the video and will someday post it), and then took off back down the trail to pack up our tent and head out for Los Cuernos which was another almost 6 km and along the way to the final and toughest part of the W.

We got there much earlier than usual, which had a lot to do with our starting time. But still had a hard time finding a place to set up the tent. We finally did and since it was raining cooked our pasta dinner while sitting inside the tent. We were going to have a long day ahead of us, so long that one of the sections doesn't list how many kilometers (I'm looking at the map while typing so as to be as accurate in my storytelling as possible). Lets just say it was somewhere close to 20 km as we were going up to Campamento Torres and then on up to the Towers that night. We got up that morning, the earliest of the 3 days, and headed out with bellies full of the sweetest oatmeal on the planet, sore knees and feet, and fortunately, good spirits.

Several times we'd seen our friend Geronimo along with Owen, Jenny, Rustyn and his two boys, Noah and Finn. Before we got to Los Torres we headed with them up the short-short cut, the one that's not on the map. When we reached the top of the mountain, although our trail wasn't a walk in the park, I was sooooo thankful that I didn't have to walk up where those other poor people where walking. It would have been incredibly miserable, even on that beautiful, sunny day. From that point, we still had several hours more of walking, up and down until reaching Torres. Once there, it didn't take too long and we both had enough energy to head up to see the Towers that night after we set up the tent.

The entire trail, up to this point had been marked really well. But this part wasn't, and I could understand why. At first, it was like a field of small boulders, then the field turned into a mountain, which you had to climb. There were times when there were posts painted bright orange, in other spots they had put reflective tape on rocks. (Keep in mind that a lot of people hike the 45 minutes to the Towers at 3:30 in the morning, in the dark, so they can watch the sun come up and see them turn bright red.) Things were going really well, I was enjoying bouldering a lot more than hiking up and down the normal trails but then something didn't seem right.

Now, I'm a smart girl, and this smart girl started thinking, "Do they really expect tourist to hike up rocks that move?" It seems like every boulder I stepped on would either move while my foot was on it or shortly after I had progressed on to the next. Then I started thinking, "I bet this is how avalanches start." Like I said, I'm a smart cookie.

I started looking around and it looked like I was almost to the top but I couldn't really tell because the mountain was at such an incline. I also couldn't see much below me because there were some really large boulders at this point. I also couldn't see anyone else near me, that's when I thought, I gotta get outta here. I had ditched my poles a ways back because I needed both hands in order to be able to climb. I stopped, looked around and decided to head to the right as I could see a good portion of the Towers from where I was.

Once I got over far enough I knew I had gone way, way, way too far. I was almost at the top of the mountain across from the Towers and the mirador was about half-way up. Once I got to a point where everyone else could see me, they started yelling, "What are you doing up there?" All I could say was "Don't ask...you don't wanna know." It seems that Ross was at least worried about me as he had gone looking for me after I never showed up. He really is a good guy. Of course, he had quite a few things to say in a very strong Irish accent when he made it back and found me safe. We stayed for awhile but it was really windy and very cold, so cold that the rain had turned to snow. So, we headed back down and went to crack open the two beers we had bought to celebrate.(By the way, I did go back to the rock where I stashed my poles just in case you were wondering.)

The next morning we got up early again, as we had to catch the 2 o'clock bus back to Puerto Natales. After all, it was New Years Eve and although exhausted and sore, both of us had great visions of staying up to ring in the new year. And we did. After making the 4 hour hike in less than 2 hours, we were changed into our flip flops and Birkenstocks, and ready for a drink and a sandwich at the bar at Las Torres. Taking those hiking boots has never felt better and I don't think my feet had ever looked worse.

At the time, I was quite sure I was going to lose at least two toenails. I had some major blisters, one underneath a toenail??? I really didn't know that was possible. My ankles were also swollen beyond imagination. I think in my email back home to let them know I made it, I described my ankles as looking like I was about 8 months pregnant. My ankles didn't hurt though...my achilles, both of them on the other hand, really hurt. It took weeks for the swelling to go down but they finally look like my ankles and feet again, with the exception of 2.5 black toenails. But what do you expect after 82 km in 5 days?

But was it great? Oh yes. It was incredible. And I would do it again in a heartbeat.

So Many Stories So Little Time

2009-01-16T12:03:00.002-06:00

It´s amazing but it´s almost been a month since I last wrote. Believe it or not, I haven´t been hiding out. I´ve just been busy having fun. It´s hard to sit inside in front of a computer when there´s a beach within 200 feet (like today), or a mountain to climb like at Torres del Paine, or a glacier where you can see ice crash into the lake like at Perito Moreno, or snorkeling with giant sealions like at Puerto Madryn, or hours upon hours wandering the Recoleta Cemetery in search of Eva Péron´s crypt. All things I´ve done in the past three weeks or so.

Right now I´m in Punta del Este, Uruguay, which is where the elite of Buenos Aires vacation, and I can completely understand why. It´s beautiful...lots of beaches, clear skies, blue water. Yep! My kind of place. Although, I will have to say that I am longing for the more nondiscript travelers´road right now. There are some really cool things about hanging out in popular places but there´s also something to be said for getting off the beaten path. I´m ready to head somewhere where I can´t speak English because no one will understand me and where no one will attempt to speak English. For the past week, being here and in Buenos Aires, I´ve felt as if I have been in Europe, which is pretty much the look they were going for. So I suppose you could say at least they were successful.

I´ve still got a whole list of places I want to see before I head back to the States and while my list seems to keep expanding, my time remaining seems to be shrinking. What´s up with that? If I were going to stick to my original plan I would be heading back to Miami in 10 days. I´m not though. I´ll be heading back to Buenos Aires at some point, then on to Iguazu Falls, then through Bolivia, a stop back in Arequipa, then on to The Galapagos, and finally Columbia. Not really sure how long that´s all going to take me. But that´s sort of the plan...at least for the next 5 minutes.

Promise to find some time to write about the following:

My excellent and amazing 5 day, 4 night, tote around all your own stuff adventure at Torres del Paine, Patagonia, Chile.

The Perito Moreno Glacier in El Calafate, Argentina, and the crazy way I ended up getting there.

The wildlife at Península Valdés, near Puerto Madryn, Argentina, along with stories about tango in the street and how to get kicked off a bus in Buenos Aires.

For now, the most exciting thing (besides lying on the beach) that´s happened in Punta del Este is that I missed yet another bus. I know...you´d think at some point I´d smarten up...I did, too.

So, stay tuned...not sure when it´ll happen but hopefully it will be worth your while to check back. I was going to upload some pictures but it´s not going to happen today...so sorry! Got some really cool ones, too!

Sì, estoy viajando...solita! ¿Y a ti que te importa?

2008-12-24T12:24:00.004-06:00

I´ve been waiting to use that phrase for awhile now...¨Y a ti que te importa?¨ It means basically, ¨What´s it to you?¨ I can´t count how many times I´ve heard this word clouded in surprise...¨Solita?¨ Single? Yes, I´m single. I´ve been single for I don´t know how long now. Why is it that we´re in the 21st century and people still seem shocked when I say that I´m traveling by myself? I actually enjoy traveling by myself. I can make my own rules, go where I want to go, stay where and when I want to stay, I can...well, I´m now sounding like I´m a street pup. Anyway, I live by my own rules.

So when I´m tired of a place or like something especially well; I can decide to move on down along the road or I can decide to stay. Today, I decided to move on along the road. I´m heading to Puerto Natales tonight on a bus. I have enjoyed my time in Punta Arenas though. I went to see the penguins this morning. And I visited the Alice in Wonderland type cemetary here while it was open. I shared the rest of my bottle of Chardonnay with some women sitting next to me at lunch. I helped a guy from Colorado ask about his hat that he had left at the restaurant four days before. I´ve had a busy day.

The penguins first, and probably because the rest of the stories really aren´t that interesting. We took off at 8:00 and after mysteriously meeting up with my trip-mates we headed on to Otway Sound to see the penguins. It reminded me of my almost kidnapping story in Arequipa. Some taxi-driver showed up and asked them if they were going to see the penguins. They said yes, so off they went, in the wrong taxi. I´m still not sure how in the heck we found them...I thought about asking but knew I wouldn´t get a straight answer so I left it alone. Miraculously we caught up to the taxi on the side of the road out in the middle of nowhere. Seriously...I didn´t fall off the turnip truck last night. Anyway, the five of us, including the driver and the guide took off to the penguin place after an odd start.

The penguins were incredibly cute and had to be incredibly cold as the wind was blowing probably 30 miles and hour or better. At times it would be raining, then it would turn to snow. It is an absolutely beautiful place but cold. The strange thing is that it really isn´t all THAT cold. It´s windy but I just had on a thick pair of pants and my windbreaker jacket with a fleece pullover under it and the only things that were uncomfortably cold were my fingers (I had forgotten my gloves...very smart Holmes!). There are around 10,000 penguins at the location we visited compared to 150,000 some odd at the other spot.

They were all cute though and very into their daily activities. There were some digging holes, some waddling around (semi-lost looking), some hanging out at the beach looking at the frigid water, some in the frigid water taking a bath and playing with their rubber duckies (okay, I didn´t really see any but I´m sure they have bath toys). They looked cold though. There was one bigger penguin talking a lot and when he did, everyone seemed to listen and head that way. It was kind of like a preacher with all his disciples....very cute. Apparently his sermon wasn´t that good because it didn´t take long for the crowd to disburse. I think he might have been trying to convince them to enter the frigid water. They didn´t fall off the turnip truck last night either.

I would give you more interesting facts about penguins but I don´t think you really care. I took some video but of course I don´t have the correct cable out of the 20 that I brought with me so you´ll have to wait for the trip recap sometime next year. It´s amazing I have two backpacks, one big one and one small one and in total I´m probably carrying close to 20 kilos. I don´t really even have that much stuff with me. I think it´s my hiking boots. Too bad I can´t ditch them somewhere to lighten the load. Something tells me I´m gonna need them on down the road though. But in all that stuff that I´m carting around I don´t have the right cable...figures.

Anyway, I´m gonna go try to find some lunch then catch my bus. Up next...Torres del Paine. Not sure how long I´ll be able to stay there. Hopefully at least a couple of days. Merry Christmas all!

What´d you do with the pit?...I hid it.

2008-12-23T09:56:00.006-06:00

In the past week, or two weeks perhaps, more funny things have happened that I can count on my little fingers. Since I last wrote to you from Valparaíso, I´ve been to Viña del Mar (which is right outside of Valparaíso, another beach community), I went to Mendoza, met the Sarfatis back in Santiago for a few days, and am now about to leave Puerto Montt for penguins in Punta Arena.

Fortunately, I´m not as jaded as I was the last time I wrote. I´m doing much better now. And am ready to tell you about some of fun and not-so-life threatening adventures. After leaving Valparaíso last Monday, I found a bus headed to Mendoza, Argentina. Their motto? ¨Tierra de sol y vino¨...Land of sun and wine. I figured you´d like that one. I certainly did.

I found a pretty cool hostel called Break Point where I met some really neat people...Joe (the plumber) from Virginia, Victoria (from Sweden...and yes, she had blonde hair and blue eyes), and Youandi and Meryn (from Holland). Joe and I ended up taking a somewhat dangerous bike and wine tour. Everyone always says never to drink and drive but I´ve never heard anything about drinking and biking. It really should be added to the list. After the third stop I was feeling pretty good.

The first stop was a chocolateria, which was where I thought I was going to get some treats. And I did, it just happened to be chocolate liquor, which was about 19% alcohol. I thought I was going to be able to blow flames! It´s a good thing I didn´t try their 80 proof absinthe made from I don´t remember what. That would have laid me out on the floor right there. Needless to say, I was ready for the probably 10 mile bike ride to the winery at the end of the road after that. It was a beautiful day, there was a light breeze, the sun was shining, a few clouds in an all blue sky. I was enjoying life...until the trucks started whizzing by at light speed.

It said the in the book that it was a beautiful ride, except for one thing...the busy road, with no shoulder. Now, on my bike at home, which I haven´t ridden in probably three years, we´re friends but we´re not one. My bike has no problem throwing me at any moment. Okay, maybe it´s not my bike, maybe it´s me but still, the end result is the same, I end up on the ground. I didn´t have any crashes on my one-speeder fortunately. I could have used another gear going up those little hills however. It was amusing though and I did really love the ride when the traffic slowed a little and I could thoroughly enjoy the Cottonwood tree lined road.

As for the wine (with the exception of the chocolate stuff), it was incredible. We technically only drank at two bogedas (wineries) but between the two, had between five and six glasses of wine each. I´ve decided that if you pay for your tasting, you get a full glass, not just the traditional sip. I know they put those little spitton thingys there for a reason. My friend Cary used to call throwing out alcohol ¨alcohol abuse¨ so in order not to be an abuser of alcohol, I drank all of mine, except for the last glass which Joe helped me out on. I told him if he wanted to bike back with me, he´d have to help.

Besides having tons of vinyards in Mendoza for grapes such as Malbec (the most popular in the region), they also have Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Bonarda, among others. They also produce a considerable amount of olive oil. (I´m a fan of the trees, which when in the sunlight have leaves that look like they´re made of silver.) Mendoza is located in the desert and is a great place to grow wine. Apparently, the Malbec grape came from France where it wasn´t growing very well and because of the sunny and dry conditions, it thrived here. I went to five bogedas in total ranging from 70,000 bottles a year to 30,000,000. That´s a lot of wine. I learned how they make it (I didn´t realize that they also age wine in bottles as well as in barrels), how to tell if it´s good or not when you swirl it in the glass, and of course, it didn´t take me too long to figure out how to drink it. Patagonia is another popular region for a different type of wine so you can only imagine how much fun I´m going to have this week. :o)

After my wine country tours, I took a bus back to Santiago, which got stuck at the border for over three hours, which meant I was late for meeting the Sarfatis. I could only imagine how freaked out they were when they got there and couldn´t find me and couldn´t call me because my cell phone was dead. While I was trying to find a phone to call them, I ended up running right into them...literally. Apparently, they had gotten hung up in the airport with filling out their paperwork. We got them settled into their hotel and after eating breakfast I headed to my hotel to get settled back in for a few days.

We originally had plans to meet up at 1:00 that afternoon and finally about 4:30 they wandered into the lobby of my hotel...horror story in hand. After countless wrong turns in a taxi, wandering the streets of Santiago on foot, and asking countless strangers and policemen for assistance, they finally found my hotel. Fortunately, we were at least able to giggle about it a little. We then took off to visit the largest church in Santiago, see the local market, and have dinner. The next day we planned to meet at 9:30 am outside the Palace to watch the changing of the guard.

The changing of the guard was...well, not happenin´. How is it that you can travel thousands of miles to see something and then it doesn´t happen? So, we took a picture in front of the palace and headed off for the famous outdoor market. I´ll have to admit, it was pretty impressive, full with fresh fruits and vegetables, all kinds of meats, including pigs´ hearts, anything that you would ever want to buy and some things you wouldn´t care to. I also found some herbs on the street that were for a variety of illnesses, one even said it cured impotence. Interesting.

There really isn´t a whole lot to do in Santiago besides museums so we opted for the pool. When I got there, Helen and Peter both told me they had gotten scolded for having food at the pool (pastries, strawberries, and apricots) so Helen had moved the food up to a shaded area above the pool. Dr. Sarfatis was having fun while swimming and Helen and I were playing the part of Greek Goddesses. It wasn´t long and Peter said, ¨Helen, throw me an apricot.¨ So, she dropped one down to him. After awhile she said, ¨What´d you do with the pit?¨ And he, in his funny Greek accent answered, ¨I hid it.¨ I couldn´t help but laugh as it sounded like something a 5 year old would do...if you´re not smiling, then you had to be there.

That night, we decided to meet for dinner. I couldn´t get a reservation for the restaurant my uncle´s friend had recommended so the hotel the Sarfatis were staying at suggested one. When he called for a reservation they said they didn´t think it was possible, then, okay, sure, table for 4 at 8:15. My friend, Anton, whom I met in Cusco, had come to Santiago for the day in route to Mendoza, so I invited him to join us for dinner. It´s amazing what you need a reservation for these days. Apparently in Santiago, you need a reservation for a buffet. You can´t imagine the looks of surprise on our faces when the waiter said there wasn´t a menu, only a buffet. We went ahead and ate there. There is a reason the guidebook says the food in Chile isn´t all that much. A Chilean told me the other day he though it was similar to American food...and he didn´t mean that as a compliment.

Anton had to catch a 10:30 bus to Mendoza so he left a little earlier than we did. So when I got to my room and saw his bag and jacket still sitting there I was a little surprised. I thought maybe the desk people wouldn´t let him up. So I went to check. No, he hadn´t been there. That´s strange. So I went back up to my room to wait. About 5 minutes later there was a knock on my door and a frantic Anton was standing in front of me. Just in case the bus was late (which is frequent here) we took off for the station, via the Metro. When we got there, nada. The Metro was closed and we already knew a taxi was out of the question since a football game had just finished...the streets were crazy. So much for trying that one. All I could offer as a consolation was good company and a bed for the night. So, we stayed up talking about great 80´s bands the rest of the night. I got an email from him yesterday and he had made it to Mendoza and was getting ready to leave for a wine tour.

Puerto Montt is another port town. Thankfully I haven´t had the same luck as in Valparaíso. I went hiking Volcano Osorno yesterday. Even though I was the only one on the tour, I still had a good time and I´ll have to say that my guide was really good at taking my picture. It was incredibly cloudy though so I wasn´t able to see the crater. It was a little rainy out but generally a good day. I got some amazing photos of the lake though when the sun started to come out from behind the clouds. Today, I´m heading for Punta Arena for probably the next day or two, then I´ll be off to Puerto Natales. I´m not sure if I´ll make it down to Tierra del Fuego or not. I might head north to El Calafate in Argentina. The book says that if you´ve seen Torres del Paine and The Perito Moreno Glacier then you´re not going to see anything except more of the same.

Valparaiso...Not the City for Me

2008-12-14T15:27:00.002-06:00

Well, I made it on a bus today to the coastal city of Valparaiso. Although it maybe charming when the sun is out, I´m thinking that this isn´t the place for me. I did happen to find a very cute bed and breakfast, that is half price if you pay in pesos as opposed to dollars. Go figure.

It has a wonderful view and my cute little room with a bathroom across the hall reminds me of my room at my parents´house with angled walls. My room, unlike this one, doesn´t overlook the bay which is pretty spectacular. I was writing in my journal before lunch, while I was thinking that I was kind of diggin´this place, talking about how great everything was and of course, it doesn´t take much to change your mind, which is exactly what happened with me.

I´m actually on my way back from Pablo Neruda´s house, the famous poet. Now that was something spectacular in and of itself as well. He had delusions of being a sailor given the decor of his house but apparently didn´t really care for the sea. He accomplished a variety of things during his lifetime, a Senator, a Communist, an artist and designer, a collector of odd art (hot air balloon plates), and of course a Nobel Prize winning poet.

It was on my way back from his house that I decided that this wasn´t the place for me. I waited for a bit outside the museum to see if a cab would pass and when none did, I thought, well, at least it´s not uphill. So I took off on foot. Of course, Chile is like Peru and they are definitely not in short supply of street dogs either so as I was walking I was watching them sleep, wander around sniffing for food, or playing together, when the road for cars I was walking on suddenly ended and became a pedestrian street. This wasn´t a problem until I rounded the corner to see 5 guys all dress in black, hanging out. Not where I wanted to be. So I quickly sort of ducked down and went up the way I came thinking, ¨I´ll find another way down.¨

I´m sure the guy who was standing on his balcony when I walked by the first time thought I was a nut when I came walking back up the street. I took another pedestrian road (as that was my only choice) and started to say a prayer, ¨Please don´t let this be the same...Great! There they are. This is not good.¨ I said, ¨Hello. What´s up?¨They said hello as well. You always hear about people saying the hair was standing straight up on their spine. Well, I didn´t stop to ask them if they could see it but when one guy touched my shoulder when I passed and made a not-so-nice comment, it was all I could do to keep walking at the same pace until I rounded the corner where I can promise you I certainly picked up the pace (and I´m not talking salsa here folks).

Besides the time when I might have been kidnapped in Arequipa, this is the first time I have felt threatened or at least had a really bad feeling. I´m alive though and very thankful that I don´t have anything other than a close call to type about. Tomorrow morning after breakfast I´m going to catch the train to Viña del Mar where hopefully it will be little more my style. Maybe it´s because I was expecting a little more based off of what I read in my book but I´m a little disappointed with this city. The nice thing is, is that I can call my own shots and when I´m done, I can be done. And I´m done, except for stopping at the store I saw as I left my hotel to buy a bottle of wine which I plan on drinking while I read poems this evening.

Crossing the Border at Midnight

2008-12-13T10:50:00.003-06:00

I had originally planned to cross the border this morning but last night when I arrived in Tacna, one of the southern most cities in Peru, I ran into two ladies who were headed that way so I jumped in the taxi with them. Yes, this is how you actually travel in South America...it´s called collectivo. Basically, you find some people who are going the same way you are and you pitch in to pay for the taxi.

Crossing the border was much easier than I expected. Especially with my visa that I´m pretty sure had expired two days prior. The man didn´t say anything to me about it. He only asked when I planned to return to Peru. My answer...January. So, that was it. They checked my luggage for illegal substances and I am now free to venture around Chile.

The ladies I was with found me a hotel which was very nice of them since my guide book doesn´t have a single page about Arica. I got up this morning and after walking for over an hour, finally found an ATM so I could get some Chilean Pesos. After that, I was able to pay for a taxi to head to El Centro to find a travel agency. I now have in my possession a plane ticket to Santiago. Once I get there I have NO, count ém NO plans. I´ll either head to Buenos Aires, Mendoza, or Tierra del Fuego, basically Patagonia, and the southernmost tip of Chile. It just depends on what I feel like.

So far, I´m liking Chile. I´m not quite sure what to think of a plane ticket that costs just over $100,000 pesos. And it´s pretty odd when a bottle of water costs you $400 pesos. Basically it´s the same as 300 soles for the plane ticket and 50 centavos for the water. It sure does sound scary though. I´ve wandered the streets for awhile, found a local fish market...so cool! And of course, found an internet place where for less than 25 cents I can play on the internet for an hour. Speaking of, my time´s almost up and I need to find some lunch.

If you´re counting...11 days until Christmas! Chau!

A Few Reflections & Lessons Learned From Life So Far in Perú

2008-12-12T11:18:00.002-06:00

It’s hard, really hard to believe that today I’ve actually been living here for three months. In that time I’ve done a lot of things, other than what the typical traveler does. For all intensive purposes I really haven’t traveled all that much. Two trips in three months while living in a foreign country isn’t much, at least it seems that way right now. As I was taking my last walk home from school yesterday afternoon, I was reminiscing about my time here. I’ve had some really fun moments, some really stupid ones, a few sad ones, and of course, the out-of-this-world incredibly funny ones.

I received my certificate/diploma yesterday from CEICA, the Spanish school that I’ve been attending…220 hours. That’s a lot of Spanish for someone who is technically on “vacation”. Heck! That’s a lot of Spanish for someone not on vacation. In 220 hours, I’ve learned all 16 verb tenses, I’ve learned countless phrases, an incredible number of words including adjectives, adverbs, verbs, nouns, pronouns, etc., I’ve learned tongue twisters designed to help people like me trill r’s (which I can most definitely do now), and I’ve learned how to properly construct complicated and not so complicated sentences. I can write in Spanish, I can listen to someone speak Spanish and generally understand everything that they’re saying, and best of all, I can speak Spanish. I can speak Spanish so well that for the past two and half months I haven’t really needed to use English at all, except to discover a new word or phrase, clarify something in school, or explain to someone in English what someone just said in Spanish. How cool is that!?!

So, what else have I been thinking about besides all my Spanish? Well, I’ve definitely run the gauntlet here as far as minor health problems (most of which I won’t write about…you’re welcome). I’ve learned a few things about taking the bus, local city buses and long distance buses; I’ve learned some tips for public bathrooms, and several other things that fortunately didn’t cost me my life.

Well, because I’m all into education and learning from someone else’s life or as some might say, mistakes, here are some specifics on the things I’ve learned thus far. Hopefully, my learning experiences in the near future as I travel around the rest of South America will also turn out to be things I can laugh about as they’re happening or shortly thereafter.

· My first lesson: Street dog have coodies. My little friend Guizi, who is absolutely adorable and sweet, is also the one who I’m pretty sure, is to blame for the hives I’ve had the past 1.5 months. I read up on it and it is possible for dogs to have bed bugs (which is the nice name for these nasty little creatures that I know I’m allergic to) and although you can never be positive about these things, it’s pretty likely that he’s the origin for my itching, which leads me to my second lesson learned. (Oh! Before I forget, a Guizi update: The little guy is doing incredibly well, he loves his family and they love him. He hasn’t had any accidents in the house…ever. Everyone is impressed with him…another perfect match!)

· Lesson #2: It’s possible to get a medical license from the Goodwill. This might sound a little strange but I’m pretty sure not all doctors here went to medical school. This of course is a bit of a generalization since I’ve only had experiences with two doctors and being a doctor’s daughter I understand that it is a little difficult to diagnose the origin of a strange rash that is sometimes there and sometimes not. But the last thing I want to hear is something I already know. “You have a very strong allergic reaction.” Well, duh. Thank you. How much do I owe? The first doctor I went to gave me some medicine that we commonly use in the States on cows and horses and is designed to kill parasites. Apparently, I’m not a parasite, as I’m still living and I’m sure if I did have any, it killed ‘em dead. It’s taken awhile but I finally don’t itch all the time although I do end up with red splotches from time to time. I can say one thing. A doctor’s appointment is cheap here. An office visit is between 50 and 70 soles which translates to $15 to $21 American. But doesn’t the saying go…you get what you pay for???

· Lesson #3 (is actually three-in-one): The bathroom. Part #1: Always bring your own toilet paper. Part #2: If using your own toilet paper, or someone else’s, if you have a friend, always put it in the trash can. I can say from experience it only takes about 5 weeks to really get the hang of that. Part #3: If you can’t see markings on the bathroom door (i.e. a picture of a little girl, the words: damas, chicas, hombres, men, women, etc.) it’s probably best to wait to see which door someone else picks, and I speak from experience when I say this. While hiking the Inca trail we stopped for lunch at a common area. There was a bathroom there, which I went in search of, after our lunch. When I arrived, I looked and looked and couldn’t see any identifying markings, although I did notice that there were two entrances. Finally, I peeked in one, thinking surely someone will be in there, and no one. So, I thought, it’s probably one of those unisex bathrooms, I’m on the Inca trail where generally people use the “eco-toilet” so I picked a door and went in. When I came out, there couldn’t have been more boys in the bathroom. I just kept my head down and walked as fast as I could towards the door. As always in these cases, there is always someone there to point out your error and for me, it was a Canadian, who followed me out of the bathroom while loudly proclaiming “You DO know you were in the BOY’s bathroom, right???” Ugh. Yes. Thank you.

· Lesson #4: Always double, triple, quadruple check the time of your departure. Now, at this point you might be thinking I’m talking about reconfirming the time of the departure for changes with the airline, as it’s common for them to change departure times with little or no notice. But alas! I’m simply talking about looking at the departure time on your ticket. It’s also helpful to really know military time here. (i.e. 20:00 is 8:00 pm, 22:00 is 10:00 pm, that sort of thing.) When I purchased my bus ticket for Cusco (my Machu Picchu trip two weeks ago) the lady at the counter told me not once but three times I needed to be at the terminal by diez, which is 10:00 for a diez y media bus, which is 10:30. She even said it once by writing it again on my ticket. What I failed to notice is that she wrote 20:00 which is most definitely NOT 10:00 pm. After an interrogation session about the departure time of my bus from Juana, I finally decided to go search for my ticket to prove to her I was right about the departure time. Oh no…20:00…there’s 24 hours in a day…so 20 can’t mean 10:00, oh holy heck! It’s 8:00. I’ve missed my freaking bus! Fortunately, while everyone else was panicking, I was able to laugh hysterically as it was my own stupidity for not looking at the ticket before 8:35 the night it was scheduled to leave. By the way, bus tickets are non-refundable but fortunately are cheap. My solution to the problem? I bought a rather cheap plane ticket the next morning to Cusco and arrived only a few hours before I was originally supposed to get there.

· Lesson #5: Use Facebook. If you’re not already using it and you’re thinking of traveling, forget Myspace. I may have met a few people who don’t use Facebook but I haven’t met any who use Myspace. It’s a great way to keep up with people you’ve met and who more than likely you’ll see again along your travels. I saw yesterday that a guy I ended up traveling with to Puno and Lake Titicaca took a picture with a girl from my Inca Trail group in La Paz, Bolivia. How wild is that?!? If you’re completely repulsed by online tools for keeping up with your new friends. Then at least make sure you get their email address…these are people who live in prospective places to visit in the future after all…plus, incredible people!

· Lesson #6: Always stay within sight of at least one member of your group…at least you’ll end up lost together. If you read my Inca Trail blog post then you already know that I got lost on the Inca Trail, which I’m sure most of you (including me) thought was impossible since generally speaking there’s only one way in and one way out. I know…leave it to me. If it can happen, it will. I can say that if you are lost, sometimes it’s helpful NOT to know that you’re lost. You’ll enjoy it more. So, just try to remain oblivious. Hopefully you’ll be in a group of people who like you and actually notice that you’re missing. And if you’re really nice, then they’ll send someone looking for you. Brent is my hero! I probably would have made it to Machu Picchu a day early if it hadn’t been for him.

· Lesson #7: Always buy souvenirs. Not I’m not talking about the chincy souvenirs like cheap little key chains (there are some nice ones out there) or well, there are a whole host of basically nasty things to choose from. My favorite things to buy in Perú? Of course, Baby Alpaca. I’ve definitely bought more than my fair share of this stuff, which here is incredibly cheap, authentic, and ooooohhh so soft, which include frazadas (blankets) and chalinas (scarves). I also happened to pick up a casaca (jacket), a chompa (sweater), and the most gorgeous abrigo (winter coat) you’ve ever seen in your life. I’ve also purchased several chullos (stocking caps), fundas de almohadas (pillow cases), and cuadros (paintings). While I have purchased several things for my family and friends who are making this trip possible for me, I also have purchased lots of things for my house so that when I am back home (wherever that may be) I will always remember this place, and the other places I’ve been. (I learned that trick from my Aunt Susan. It’s like being every place she’s been when you enter her house…it’s an amazing, peaceful, and energizing feeling that overcomes me every time. I love it.)

· Lesson #8: ALWAYS get a massage, at least one, while you’re here. I love massages but I hardly ever spring for one. Why? I guess because life gets a little too busy or maybe I’m a little too cheap. Every time I get one I always think, “Why don’t I do this more often?” Especially here. I got my first massage here probably three weeks ago. I had been incredibly sick for what seemed like an eternity, my head was killing me, and I needed to try something a little different. Renato had mentioned a massage and it sounded like a good idea to me. So, we took the bus to a little blue building. And yes, they had someone free. For the next hour, I enjoyed the most amazing, least expensive massage I’ve ever had in my life. What does a good massage cost in Perú? In Arequipa it’s 15 soles which translates to $5. Incredible! After Machu Picchu I treated myself to a massage in Cusco, not one but two…count ‘em 2 hours, complete with hot stones, for 30 soles…$10 bucks. Not that’s what Robert would call an entertainment value! Surely now you understand what I’m talkin’ about Holmes.

· Lesson #9: Buy a good camera and USE it!!! I bought a really nice camera this summer, a Canon PowerShot S5IS. I love it! Occasionally I wish I would have bought a more expensive, manual focus camera but this one is easy for other people to use (other than figuring out how to turn it on) and takes great pictures. Buy lots of memory cards and you’re in business. You can always delete them when you get home. Plus, take multiple pictures of the same view/scene with different settings. You’ll be surprised when you get back home. I’ve had a hard time choosing between the black and white of Machu Picchu and the color version. It’s the same thing but incredibly different looks.

· Lesson #10: NEVER color your hair in a foreign country. This is one of my most recent lessons. When I got here I had what I referred to as an irresponsible hair do, blonde on top and dark on the bottom. This week, I went from a blonde who needed to get her roots touched up to more of a dark redhead, to what I would consider florescent orange, to a cross between a strawberry blonde and a honey color with an orange tint…and now, although I’m not really happy…I’m a brunette. What a disaster! I don’t think I need to clarify this one anymore…the florescent orange speaks for itself I’m quite sure. I’m not laughing yet but I have high hopes for this adventure as well.

· Lesson #11: Always be open to exploration and new things. One of the things I love most about travel is the fact that you can be headed in one direction and then bam! You meet someone or a group of people and then you’re headed off in a different direction for a place that two minutes earlier you didn’t know existed. Nunca digas nunca, which translates into English directly…never say never. Keep your mind open and never be afraid to say “Hello!” (or here, Hola!”) to that stranger who sat down at the table next to you. Now of course, if he or she resembles Jack the Ripper or some other lunatic, I’m definitely not going to suggest you strike up a conversation; you always have to be smart. But if you can get out of your comfort zone just a little, you’ll be incredibly surprised at exactly how easy it is to make new friends. After seeing the pictures of the inside of a prison in La Paz that one of my newest friends took (where you BRIBE your way in) I’m wishing I hadn’t planned to come back to finish my last week of school this week. Of course, I love school but what an adventure! And yes, he did make it out…he’s enjoying amazing wine in Chile now.

· Lesson #12: Get off the beaten path and get to know the people. There are a lot of towns where you’ll run into lots of gringos. Cusco for instance. When you’re doing that and hanging out with tourist all the time you don’t really get to experience the culture. Now I’m not saying that everyone needs to find a local family to live with but find some places that aren’t in your guide book. To do this though, it is really helpful to know a little of the local language and here in Perú, that doesn’t always mean Spanish. It also means Quechua which is the native language of the Andean people. Fortunately, the majority of the people here speak both Quechua and Spanish. I’ve learned a few words in Quechua since I’ve been here but not enough to have a conversation with anyone. The non-beaten path also includes trying some of the local cuisine. I’ve written about trying guinea pig and cow’s hearts which definitely aren’t my new favorite dishes but they definitely are a part of my experience here and they make for interesting stories. My grandma Hetty always used to say “While in Rome, do as the Romans do.” And here, the phrase is “A donde fueras, laz lo que vieras.” Something I definitely and highly recommend.

Fortunately so far, my lessons learned contain las anécdotas…or funny stories that originated from not-so-funny circumstances. Besides my hair being jacked-up, I’ve been able to do more than a little chuckling at my mistakes which is the best thing to do when there’s something that doesn’t go your way. It’s much better than the alternative, and is likely to leave you in much better spirits and without a headache and runny nose.

So, what’s next for me? I’m leaving my computer and a few other things here in Arequipa and I’m taking the 4:00 bus (my ticket most definitely says 16:00) to Tacna which is really close to the Chilean border. I’m not exactly sure what my plans are between now and the 19th, when I’ve promised the Sarfatis I’ll be in Santiago to meet them at the airport for a few days of fun with old friends before they take off on a two week cruise. From there, I’ll either head south to Patagonia or perhaps take a flight up to the Galapagos Islands to meet some friends for Christmas. If I head south, then I’ll more than likely make a big loop counter-clockwise around South America and if I head back north after Santiago, then I’ll make a clockwise loop. It looks like even from the tip of South America it’s incredibly expensive to go to Antarctica so I’ll have to save that place for another adventure. A few places on my list…the beach for surfing, Patagonia, The Galapagos, Iguazú Falls between Argentina and Bolivia, the Amazon, and I haven’t really decided where else.

I’ll definitely try to keep up with my blog although now that I’m traveling it won’t be as easy as writing stories from my apartment with my own computer. But I’m sure it will happen. If you’re on Facebook, I’ve upload much more pictures there than on my blog so if you’re not already my “friend” find me there. That’s all for me this morning. I’ve got to head down for breakfast then start packing up my stuff. I’m looking at my room right now. Gee, I either brought a bunch of stuff with me or have bought a bunch of stuff since I’ve been here. I’m not sure which.

A Little Lost on the Inca Trail

2008-12-06T22:13:00.013-06:00

Well, I'm not sure if it's ever happened before and in all actuality it sounds a little strange but I did get lost on the infamous Inca Trail. Well, maybe it's not soooo hard to believe, after all it wasn't discovered until 1911 and even then Hiram Bingham really didn't realize what he'd found.

So now you're probably wondering how I got lost. Well, to tell you the truth, I'm really not sure how it happened and until Brent found me, I didn't realize I was lost. Sure, I knew it had been awhile since I'd seen any of the 15 other people in my group but I was making all kinds of friends on the trail so I didn't feel all that lonely.

Anyway, back to the story...we were on our second day of hiking which just happened to be the toughest day, up and over Dead Woman's Pass. (Maybe someone did get lost before me after all. :o)) We had started walking at 6:30 that morning and had already had one little break and I was told then that the next stop would be in a little over an hour. And, just like any good hiker, I checked my watch, and headed off into the high jungle. At that point, I was thinking, "I've got an hour; then look for the little SAS guy with the flag..." It was a good thought.

At one point, I walked by an area where it looked like most every group had stopped to take a break and I looked around a bit but didn't see a SAS flag and I checked my handy-dandy wristwatch and it said I still had 30 minutes to go, so I continued on up the path. When my hour of walking came and went with no sign of a flag or anyone in my group I though, "Gee, I must be walking really slow today, how did everyone pass me?" So, I continued up the mountain, taking my time to stop and look around and stare in awe of the beautiful scenery, to take pictures, sip some water, and to chat with my fellow hikers. I was having a good day.

It wasn't until I reached the top of Dead Woman's Pass that I started thinking something was wrong. There were people around and I even saw some friendly faces. When you're traveling, you often are on the same tours and since I'd already done a city tour and a Sacred Valley tour I had already made several friends in the Cusco area. At one point, I looked down the path which led down the other side of the mountain and thought, "Maybe I'm not going the right direction but no, there are only two...the way I came from and this way, so this has to be it." But there weren't any people on the trail and from where I was standing; I could see a long, long, long way down the valley.

But still, there weren't any people. 200 hundred tourists walk the Inca trail every day and 300 porters. That's a lot of people on one trail or in my case, the direction in which I was looking...and still, no people. Strange. So, I ended up going back to the very top of the mountain and looking around some more trying to look like I knew what I was doing. But it was really windy and getting cold so I thought, "What the heck! They must have gotten way ahead of me somehow." So, I turned to go down the mountain.

I had only gotten about 20 or 30 feet down one of the steepest parts of the trail when I heard "Katie!!!" And I turned around to see my Australian friend and tent-mate, Brent. I quickly returned to the top and was about to ask him where everyone was when he asked "Where in the heck have you been? I've been practically running up the mountain looking for you!" "Oh! Holy heck!" was the only thing I could think to say. He then radioed back to Carlos and Alvaro to tell them that he had found me. Of course, when everyone else who was chilling at the top heard him say "I found her." That got everyone's attention. (A little like the time when the boy followed me out of the bathroom saying "You DO realize that you were in the BOYS bathroom, right?!?" Yes, thank you...I think I've got it now. --For the record, I didn't see a sign and there wasn't a soul in the bathroom when I went in.)

After being told by Carlos to make sure not to blow the next stop (in both Spanish and English), Brent and I headed off down the mountain in search of camp site #17 which was supposed to be an hour and a half hike down to the valley. Needless to say, we arrived much earlier than everyone else...almost two hours earlier. The one good thing about arriving early was that we got dibs on the tent for the night...J3 - not sure what the J stood for but the 3 was definitely for 3rd wheel which is how Brent and I referred to each other as we were the only two without a friend or significant other. By the way, J3 was perfect for us not just because of the name...it also didn't leak. We were blessed with four days of gorgeous sunshine and two nights of very heavy rain. Some of our group members weren't so lucky and all their belongings got soaked. Needless to say, we didn't give out our number and were on the verge of saying that our tent did leak so no one would try to steal it from us. Leakless tents are a hot commodity on rainy nights.

Of course, there is a reason why Machu Picchu is one of the Seven Wonders of the World. It's because it really is this amazing, mystical, and spiritual place. The entire journey is that way really, Machu Picchu is just like the icing on the cake. The clouds that morning, just like the other other days, moved in and out mysteriously. It really is a test of patience because if you wait long enough the clouds will disappear leaving you with this spectacular view and just as quickly would hide what you had hiked almost 50 km to see, all in a matter of seconds.

We arrived at the Sun Gate early in the morning after hiking a little over 7 km through a dense rain forest. I know one thing, the people who take those amazing, 'I look like I'm a model' photos in front of Machu Picchu, didn't hike the 7 km to get there that morning. It was absolutely hot and humid and I looked nothing close to pretty. And in fact, no one did, and even worse, everyone stunk. Some worse than others (okay, a LOT worse than others) but I'm sure there wasn't one person who's going to look at that picture and say, "Gee, I was lookin' good that day."

After a three hour tour around Machu Picchu several of us took off for Wayna Picchu, the mountain that you always see in the famous photos. Maybe I should re-phrase that...it's the steep mountain that you always see in the famous photos. It was worth the 40 minute hike to the top though. What a view! On the way up, a guy said that you haven't actually experienced Wayna Picchu until you've been stung by a wasp, to which I though..."Ugh! That doesn't sound like fun at all." When we got to the top, I understood what he meant. There were hundreds of wasps, black ones. Brent and I did stay long enough to take some pictures and eat a Twix. And I'm happy to report that neither of us suffered anything other than sore muscles.

On the way down, we saw a guy who was clinging onto the mountain for dear life, body completely against the side of the mountain, body trembling, while his friends were trying to coax him down by saying "Only three more steps, you're almost there." The thing they forgot to tell him was that that was only to the next terrace. He still had who knows how many steps left to get to the bottom, as he was probably only 10 meters from the top. I have no idea how that guy (or if) he made it down on his own. It was incredibly steep, the entire way, up and down, with a narrow path and even narrower steps. But the view...it was definitely worth the trip.

A gentleman on the train back to Ollaytaytamba asked me if I would do it again. My answer, there are some things that you just shouldn't do again because they were so perfect the first time. And doing it again would probably ruin it. The weather was perfect, the people in my group (all Americans and Australians) were amazing people, the food was incredible, our guides were friendly, knowledgeable, and fun, and as I said, the entire place is absolutely mystical. So, no. I don't need to do it again, it couldn't have been more perfect just the way it was.

Un Caso de Identidad Equivocada

2008-11-17T20:10:00.021-06:00

Por tres o cuatro semanas ahora he querido escríbir una historia en español. Ahora, pienso que tengo una historia perfecta para esto. Esta es una historia que mi profesor de baile me contó. Aunque la historia es triste, tambien es un poco chistosa.

Hace diez semanas, empecé a tomar lecciónes de baile. Durante este periodo de tiempo mi profesor y yo nos hemos vuelto buenos amigos. Entonces, la semana pasada cuando me pareció que él estaba un poco triste, yo supe que algo estaba mal. Generalmente, él está muy feliz y muy locuaz pero ese día él estuvo muy silencioso.

Cuando yo le pregunté que le pasaba, me dijo que no podría hablar sobre esto. Entonces, yo supe en ese momento que algo grave había pasado. Despues de la clase, me dijo que en este momento a sus perros, dos perros, los habían hecho dormir. Yo sabía sobre un perro que él había tenido por 12 años y que estuvo muy enfermo y necesitó hacerlo dormir y entendí porque el perro estuvo sufriendo mucho pero ¿por qué el otro perro?

Parece que el otro perro, una perrita, que tiene sólo 5 años, estaba un poco agresiva con las personas y otros perros. Y el dueño de la casa donde Edu, su padre, y su hermano viven les digo a ellos que necesitan hacer algo con este perrita y ella no podría vivir con ellos más. Porque él no tiene mucho tiempo y la perrita estuvo agresiva todos pensaron que fue mejor para ella hacerla dormir tambien. Entonces, durante mi clase de baile a los dos perros los habían hecho dormir y despues de clase, mi profesor, su hermano, y su profesor (un amigo), iban a enterrar los perros. Entonces, pude entender la razón porque él estuvo triste y silencioso.

Esta semana cuando Edu llegó para mi clase de baile él estuvo normal otra vez. Cuando nosotros estuvimos casi listos para la clase, él me dijo que el viernes pasado algo muy chistoso había pasado con sus perros. ¡¿Chistoso!? ¿Qué? Despues, el empezó a contar la historia sobre el entierro de los perros. Me dijo que él fue al consultorio del veterinario despues de clase, él recogió a dos perros, y despues ellos fueron afuera de la cuidad para enterrar los perros. Estoy segura que fue un experiencia muy triste para todos.

El siguiente día su hermano le dijo que él pensó que él vió a su perro. Pero, no es posible porque el perro esta muerto y debajo de la tierra. "¡No! No es nuestro perro. Tú eres loco." Pero su hermano estuvo seguro, entonces los dos fueron al lugar otra vez donde ellos enterraron los perros y ellos cavaron donde enterraron a los perros y "¡No, no es nuestro perro!" Fue un perro diferente pero casi exactamente igual. Entonces despues, ellos tuvieron que volver a enterrar el perro incorrecto. Pienso que no fue muy divertido porque él me dijo que el perro estuvo oliendo muy mal y el perro estuvo muy rigido, porque él había estado afuera en el sol caliente todo el día. ¡Qué feo!

Entonces, él y su hermano regresaron al consultorio del veterinario otra vez para buscar el perro correcto. ¡Y sí, el perro estuvo allí! Entonces, ellos regresaron con el perro correcto al lugar
donde los otros perros estaban, y ellos enterraron el perro correcto. Entonces, ahora hay tres perros enterrados en tumbas sin nombres en un lugar desconocido para mi.

Despues de todo, esta historia es un poco chistosa. No puedo imaginar comó es posible que alguien pudo enterrar el perro incorrecto pero pasa. Ojalá que no vaya a pasar con ninguno de ustedes.

Well, this is my first attempt at writing a story in Spanish. I'm sure that most you have no clue what I just typed, although I'm sure you at least caught a few numbers and other familiar looking words in there somewhere. But for all of you who have been wondering what in the heck I've been doing the last 10 weeks...Well, here's proof that you can teach an old dog new tricks. (Okay, I couldn't resist on the dog thing...sorry!) And yes, I did write this myself, although like any good writer, I asked my teacher to review it for me and impressively, there were only a few mistakes. Yahoo!

So, now for all of you who would like to know what happened...here's the story translated into a familiar language...

A Case of Mistaken Identity

For three or four weeks now, I have wanted to write a story in Spanish. Now, I think I have a story that is perfect for that. It is a story that my dance teach told me. Although the story is a little sad, it is also a little funny.

Ten weeks ago, I started taking dance lessons. During this period of time my teacher and I have become good friends. So, last week when he looked a little sad I knew that something bad had happened. Generally, he is very happy and very talkative but that day he was very quiet.

When I asked him about what had happened he told me that he couldn't talk about it. So, I knew in that moment that something absolutely terrible had happened. After the class, he told me that his dogs, two dogs, were being put to sleep. I knew about a dog he had had for 12 years who was very sick and needed to be put to sleep and I understood why because the dog was suffering. But why the other dog?

It seems that the other dog, a girl dog, (who is only 5 years old) was a little agressive towards people and other dogs. And the owner of the house where Edu, his father, and his brother live told them that they needed to do something with the dog and that it couldn't live there with them anymore. Because he didn't have much time and the dog was agressive everyone thought it best to put her to sleep as well. So, during my dance class both dogs were being put to sleep and after the class, my teacher, his brother, and his teacher (a friend), were going to bury the dogs. So, I could understand the reason why he would be sad and quiet.

This week, when Edu arrived for my dance class, he was is old self again. When we were almost ready to begin, he told me that last Friday, something funny had happened. Funny?!? What??? Then he began to tell me the story of the burial. He told me that after the class he went to the vet's office, picked up the dogs, and they all went outside the city to bury the dogs. I'm sure it was a very said experience for everyone.

The following day, his brother told him that he thought he saw their dog. But, that's not possible because the dog is dead and is under the ground. "No! No, this isn't our dog. You are crazy." But his brother was sure so the two of them went back to the place where they had buried the dogs and they dug up the dog and "No! This isn't our dog!" It was different dog but it looked exactly like their dog. So then, they had to bury the wrong dog again. I'm sure it wasn't very fun as he told me that the dog was really stinky and was very stiff because it had been out in the hot sun all day long. How gross!

So, he and his brother went back to the vet's office to look for the right dog. And yes! The right dog was there. So, they went back to the place where the other dogs were and buried the correct dog. So now there are three dogs buried in unmarked graves in a location unknown to me.

After everything, this story is a little funny. I can't imagine how anyone could bury the wrong dog but it happened. Hopefully this won't ever happen with any of you.

The Story of Guizi Martínez

2008-11-04T16:32:00.010-06:00

I don’t actually know the entire story of Guizi myself but the part that I do know I want to share with you. I have a pretty good imagination and can only imagine the things that this little guy has endured during his life. Being a street dog can’t be as glorious as it sounds. Although living life with no rules, getting to get to eat junk food (including chocolate), having no curfew, and being able to pee wherever you want, whenever you want, does sound a little enticing. It’s that other side of the coin that’s not so hot…the cold nights without a soft bed or blanket to help keep you warm, living in constant fear that the person walking towards you might hit or kick you, the fact that there isn’t always a meal on the next corner, and that just crossing the street can be a life-ending experience, those are the things that break my heart for these pups living on the streets in Arequipa and everywhere else in the world.

At first glance, Guizi looks like he’s a puppy, probably 2 years old or so. Even when I was able to first pet him two weeks ago, I still thought he was a young dog. He’s probably a lab mix, mainly black with a few white spots here and there on his chest and paws. When we first met, I was walking to school and he was curled up in a little ball next to a wall. I could tell something was wrong with his leg by the way he was laying but I wasn’t really sure what was wrong until I stopped to put some dog treats on the ground near him. He stumbled getting up and I could tell that his leg was probably broken and there were definitely at least two very large open wounds. A lot of times I only see dogs once or twice but this was not to be with the little black dog.

After school that day, I did as I always do; I grabbed my backpack, hooked up my iPod, and headed out the door for my apartment. As I got closer to the spot where I had seen the little black dog earlier that morning I began scanning the street and the sidewalks. And what do you know?!? There he was! He was on the opposite side of the street in the shade as it was 1:00 in the afternoon and although the nights are cool here (cold for me), during the day it gets hot when you’re not in the shade. So I crossed the street and gave the little black dog the rest of the treats I had on my person. Lala, the little dog who lives in the house beneath my apartment wasn’t too happy about the status of available treats (completely empty handed) and I tried my best to explain to her in Spanish that there was a little black dog on the streets who needed them more than she. I couldn’t tell if either she didn’t understand me or didn’t really care about the little black dog who didn’t have a home.

The next morning I headed out with a new supply of dog treats and hopes that the little black dog would be in the streets again. As I rounded the corner, I found myself once again scanning the street for the little black dog. As I got closer and I didn’t see him my heart sunk a little as I thought maybe something had happened to him and he would never be waiting again for me on the sidewalk. But then, I saw something…was it a plastic bag, it was so small, no, was it? Yes! It is! It’s the little black dog. Yahoo! As I crossed the street he raised his head but this time he didn’t get up, he just looked at me. So, I put half of the treats I had on the sidewalk next to him and quietly left wishing that I had more but knowing that I might see him later and I wanted to make sure that I had some for him for later. That afternoon he wasn’t there and as my heart was once again sinking I was thinking, “Why didn’t I give him all the cookies?” I said a prayer for him asking God to keep him safe.

For weeks I would see the little black dog in the mornings and afternoons, off and on, more on than off and every time I didn’t see him I would pray that he was safe and was just off in some other part of the city as by now we pretty much had a routine. He knew that every day during the week in the mornings and in the afternoons, there was a little blonde-headed girl who didn’t look like anyone else, who would come and give him treats. I can’t even explain how happy I was the day he saw me before I saw him and he started running towards me even with his hurt leg, tail wagging and all. “He knows me! He likes me!” I thought.

By now, you might be wondering how the little black dog got his name. About two weeks after we first met, the first time he stood up and started wagging his tail when he saw me on the street, I knew this little guy was special and he needed a name. So, I started thinking about it, “Do I name him after the military base that’s located on the street where I found him? What is the name of the base anyway? What about the name of the street? Hum…Rodriquez…Oh! I don’t like Rodriquez…reminds me of ARod…I don’t like him. Hum…How about Guizi? It’s short for Rodriguez. I think it’ll work…Guizi it is!” So now you know how my brain works, and of course I gave you the short version. In reality, it was a much longer conversation that I had with myself.

By now, the wounds on Guizi’s left hind leg had healed but he still couldn’t walk on it. It was about that same time I started asking my teacher for help with Spanish words I would need to know to be able to communicate with the veterinarian. At that point, I could have a good conversation with him about a lot of things but I definitely didn’t want the vet to think that I wanted to put the little dog to sleep instead of neutering him. I’m sure Guizi is going to think that stinks but it’s much better than never waking up again! As the weeks passed and I continued to see my little friend, Guizi, on the street I started to devise plans and talk to people.

I’m not in the States anymore where there are groups who can help people find homes for animals. And apparently here, a street dog is the last thing anyone wants. All I heard is that it’s impossible, that I should give up, or even better “Tú eres loca, chica!” There is apparently one group here who helps animals but I don’t think they want any more dogs or cats because their contact information was missing from their website and they didn’t have their number published in the phonebook. With the help of Renato, we asked several vets if they knew of anyone who could care for a little dog, if only for a few months as I was bound and determined that Guizi would not be living on the streets for much longer, even if I had to fly him back home with me. And no, no one knew of anyone who could except for maybe one girl and the guy said that he thought she might have room for one more dog but that he wasn’t certain.

Things really started heating up on Friday (Halloween, of all days) when Renato and I went down to talk to the vet about getting some help for Guizi and the guy said that if we could find him and stay with him then he’d come in his van and pick us up. Great! Guizi wasn’t there that morning and I wasn’t sure he would be there that afternoon but it was worth a shot. So we took off down the street in search of Guizi and what do you know, the little guy was there just like most days and he got up to say “Hello!” And I thought, “Oh! He’s here! Oh! He’s here! Oh! Holy heck, he’s here! Oh…Holy heck! Now what am I going to do? I don’t have a place for a little dog. My host parents are going to kill me if I bring a dog off the streets into their home. It’s a blessing and a curse all at the same time.” I went into a little store and bought a package of hotdogs and then Renato went to call the vet and left me with Guizi and my thoughts.

We got Guizi into the van without any problems. He’s such a chill dog. “What in the heck am I going to do? Oh well! Something will happen,” I told myself. So after a trip to the vet, then to the x-ray place, then back to the vet, which is when Henry (the dad) got involved, we all were ready to go to the house. Did I just say all of us? Yep! Every one of us, including Guizi, went to the house. Once we got there we put him in the back garden hoping that it would take a little while for the boss the house, Juana, to figure out that he was there. I’m pretty sure there’s not a lot that gets by her, she’s pretty sharp.

Renato and I left for another vet’s office in search of temporary housing and at this point I was thinking I was going to have to put Guizi back on the street for the night. While on the bus across town, I prayed that God would send a home for Guizi and that He would send it now, we couldn’t wait, we needed a home tonight. I knew at best that I had maybe a week against unbelievable odds to find this little guy a home. While we were gone, God and Guizi were both working on Juana because she allowed the little guy to stay in the garden for the night. In the morning, she commented on how calm and well-mannered he was. :o)

The next day, Guizi received his first bath in his entire life I’m quite sure. I ended up soaked but not because of Guizi, Renato was enjoying dumping as much water on me as Guizi. Unfortunately he ended up clean and I ended up exactly the opposite. How is that possible? After the bath, we had an 80th birthday lunch to attend for Henry’s dad. It was an incredible lunch and I enjoyed meeting Henry’s parents…very sweet people. After lunch, we left for the house to retrieve Guizi once again and return to the vet. By this time the vet had agreed to keep him for a week. God had given us some time. While we were at the vet, Henry showed up with his parents saying that they wanted to look at Guizi. Seriously!?! Could it be?!? And…They like him! They want him! Holy heck! An answered prayer! Yahoo!!!

So we all left the vet’s office and headed to Guizi’s new home. I was still in shock and I was also praying that Guizi hadn’t been putting on a show this whole time and was really a Cujo dog instead. I could see it clear as day. Guizi hanging around the house, acting innocent and hurt, then all of the sudden he goes into a tirade and attacks someone. After all, you never know what to expect from a dog who’s lived his life in the streets. At a minimum, generally they’re food aggressive, which Guizi is not. He’s just this really relaxed, chilled out dog, who is incredibly sweet. It’s absolutely amazing.

The vet said that he thinks Guizi is probably seven years old. That’s a long time living on the streets. But no more for Guizi! Now he’s got a house of his own, (literally, he’s got his own dog house), proper dog food, and his very own collar. It’s been a long life for this little guy but the tide has finally turned and things are going his way. I saw him yesterday when we took him for one final x-ray. The vet says it will have to heal on its own because of the location of the fracture. Here they say, “poco a poco”, which means little by little. It’s a phrase I know very well as my teacher says it to me all the time. :o)

While we were at the vet’s office, the vet asked for the name of the little black dog. I replied, “Guizi” and Henry said, “Guizi Martínez, after his momma.” So, there it is, Guizi Martínez. Martin isn’t a very Peruvian sounding name but Martínez is; it is also the name of the street where I live, which I think is a little more than a bit ironic.

And so the people I have to thank for helping Guizi find a home? Henry, for driving us around in the crazy traffic to and from the vet, the x-ray place, and everywhere in between and for also thinking that his parents could use a new family member. A special thanks to Juana, for allowing Guizi to stay his first night in a home. The vet for stepping up and saying they would provide a temporary house for him (which I am so thankful we didn’t need). Special thanks to Henry’s parents for opening their hearts and home to keep a little dog off the streets. And a very special thanks to Renato for all his help and translating skills, his help, like the help of one final person was incredibly generous. And finally, I thank God for finding Guizi a home. I didn’t know how it was going to happen but I had faith that He was in control. He brought me into this little dog’s life all the way from Oklahoma. I truly believe that. Some people are put on this earth to help other humans and I know that God put me here to help our four-legged friends. I am so thankful that He heard my prayers and answered them and that He did it with great speed.

So, that’s the story of Guizi. I forgot to tell you it has a fairytale ending. Yahoo!

An Answer to the Trivia Question & Much More...

2008-10-30T15:19:00.014-05:00

Well, I've been scouring the streets of Arequipa for the answer to the trivia question from, oh! almost a month ago and this morning I finally got lucky. This one is a tad bit different than I originally described because this one doesn't have pedals...it has a motor. (We're sophistacted now boys and girls!) At first I thought I had hit a goldmine. I thought what I saw was a traveling restaurant but alas! It's a door-to-door pot & pan salesperson. Not as interesting as I first thought but fun all the same.

Since I've been here I haven't gotten too terribly sick. At first I had a sore throat, then a sinus infection, and then, well, you don't really want to know about that one. But now I'm happy to report that I'm doing fine and back to my usual self.

Here, anytime you look the least bit puny everyone says..."es gripe", which to me sounds a little comical but in actuality is just the flu. But people say it ALL the time around here. And their cure for "me duele la garganta" - Spanish for "my throat hurts"? Pisco...which is basically a type of whiskey. It's probably best if you think during the days of prohibition when moonshine was cool. I've never actually tasted moonshine but if it's anything like Pisco I don't care to try it. That stuff makes tequila taste like it's for babies. And where does the best, the smoothest Pisco come from you might ask? Not the store! No! Someone's house...I told you it reminded me of moonshine.

I have now tried Pisco, along with a few other things I don't know if I should mention. Oh, what the heck! My Grandma Hetty always used to say "While in Rome, do as the Romans do." Well, I'm not exactly in Rome but I think the saying holds true for here as well although it's a little different. "A donde fueras, haz lo que vieras." Which means, wherever you are, do whatever you see.

In keeping with that theory, I've tried some of the local cuisine which includes the following: anticucho, cuy, and queso helado. Now, on the surface, none of these things sound really creepy but that's because they're in Spanish. Once you translate them, things change and you now have: a cow's heart, a cute little guinea pig fried and on a platter, and cheese ice cream. I can say I am now a huge fan of one of these three things and I'm sure you can probably guess which one it is...the ice cream. It's to die for. And no, it isn't really made with cheese. It's just the name. It's pretty close to our homemade vanilla ice cream but much richer. Probably a cross between that and gelato and anyone who's been to Italy knows about gelato. Wowzers! The other two items that made it onto my plate (or kabob, I should say), I can probably do without eating again.

I am very happy to report that the very frightened guinea pig that was in the kitchen of one of the oldest restaurants in Arequipa was
still alive after my meal. Although his prospects for a long and happy life seemed rather bleak. There were also some baby ducks in the kitchen in a box that I'm sure will be on a platter some day soon. Ugh! It's not right to see your food before hand, that is unless it's a lobster and I suppose they're just not cute enough for me to feel bad about eating.

In addition to trying some of the local cuisine, I've also gotten about town and gone to several historical sites. One of which was The Santa Catalina Convent, which is apparently a part of the Opus Dei sect. I have proof on my camera and it's a good thing because no one here believed me when I was talking about it. Maybe it was because a couple of weeks ago my Spanish was so bad no one could understand what I was saying but I know what I saw and there is no way I'm joining that church. It was absolutely beautiful though with brightly painted walls and streets that look like they belong in Venice. The convent is over 400 years old and is still a working convent. I decided that the nuns there all had to be very short and very fat because all the doorways were very small and there had to be at least 20 different kitchens in the place. Pretty impressive for a nunnery.

I've also been to Sabandía and Yumina which are some small towns outside of Arequipa where there's a lot of agricuture. After taking a 30 minute bus ride which costed about $0.15, we walked to Molina which is a historic location where they grind corn. We then hiked to Yumina, about a 45 minute walk up and around a rather large hill where we ran across a very friendly little goat, some natural pools, which were very frigid, and a chalk tunnel which we walked through with no flashlights. It was all great fun though, including the bus ride home when I almost bowled over about a dozen people because I wasn't hanging on when the bus took off.

I have also taken a trip to Mundo Alpaca where we got a tour of the facility. I got to make friends with some really cute little alpacas. I was surprised to learn that there are about five different species. One reminded me of an ewok on Star Wars and another got really friendly when he tried to first eat my scarf, then my leg. He was really cute though with long, brown, dreadlock type hair, so I didn't mind so much.

In my spare time I've also taken multiple dance classes and two cooking classes since I've been here. I'm still a terrible dancer but I really have fun with my new moves. So far, I'm not an expert in Salsa, Merengue, or Reggaeton but I sure do like the dances! I've also been doing my far share to tear it up in the kitchen. The first week we learned how to make ceviche, a potato dish, and a purple desert, and this week we made tamales, a dish with a lot of chile peppers, and my favorite, queso helado. That's right! Now I can make my own...so watch out Emeril! I might just start up my own version of a Latin cooking show, Peruvian style of course. I've been trying to figure out what to do next with my life...I think I'm going to need to practice some more. :o)

So, what's next for me? For now, I'm working on making friends with a little puppy who lives on the street. He was hit by a car several weeks ago and slowly but surely we're making friends. I named him Rodrequiz because that's the name of the street where I met him but I call him Guizi for short. He's really sweet. If I could get the upload to work I'd upload a picture of him but apparently I've maxed out for the day, something like that. Anyway, I have Guizi, four more weeks of Spanish class and a trip to Machu Pichu and Lake Titicaca planned for the coming month. Oh! I almost forgot Halloween is tomorrow and here, it's a huge deal so we're all dressing up and hitting the town. I hope all of you have a spooky Halloween as well!

An Adventure at El Cañón del Colca

2008-10-04T15:53:00.019-05:00

Two weeks ago I left my cozy little apartment at 4:30 in the morning to venture out into the wilderness for three days with a group of unknown friends. My guide came in a taxi to pick me up and just to make sure everything was okay, my host father, Henry, got up as well. I thought this a little strange and unnecessary because after all, who in their right mind would come for me so early in the morning other than my guide or someone else from the agency? When I returned, I found out why it’s important to double check.

We left in a standard tourist bus after picking up the remaining trekkers. There were 17 people in the bus in total…four guides and 13 gringos. Gringo, a word I’m sure originated in Mexico, is used here frequently. However, it’s not just used to describe Americans. It’s used to describe anyone with light colored skin. So, regardless of whether you’re American, German, Australian, or English, we’re all gringos. They commonly use another word to describe Americans which I’m not so fond of, Yankee. People from the South can definitely relate to not wanting to be called a Yankee but here, I’m a Yankee.

We arrived at La Cruz del Condor around 9:00 in the morning after what seemed like a dreadfully long bus ride along dusty roads with multiple traffic jams which consisted of cows, sheep, and donkeys in the road. What also made the trip a little more miserable was a certain German girl who at one point was car sick and then once she found a friend also spoke German, became a chatterbox. Not what you want at 5:00 in the morning. However, we all survived to make it to this incredible lookout point where we were able to witness the gigantic Andean Condors soar through the air before taking off to the Colca River below to hunt for food. They are amazing creatures, some with wingspans up to 12 feet. I read somewhere where they are unable to start flying on their own. It is necessary for them to basically fall off a cliff to start flying. They are amazing birds though and I was very fortunate to see several on both my first and last day of my trip.

Colca Canyon is twice as deep as the Grand Canyon and was created by the Colca River. It is nestled in the Andean Mountains and incredibly, the river is the beginning of the Amazon. The river supposedly got its name from the many holes in the cliffs of the canyon where the Indians in Inca and pre-Inca times used to store food and also used these “holes” as tombs for important people. The crazy thing is, is that after being there I’m not sure who would want to carry food, let alone a dead person, up and down those cliffs and something tells me the trail system is a little better today than it was back then.

Anyway, back to the real story…after a nice lunch in Cabanaconde, where I just so happened to forget my very nice, very new, North Face jacket, we, an Australian named Duncan, a German named Thea, our guide, Jhon (and yes, that’s really how he spelled it), and I headed out for the rim of the canyon. From Cabanaconde it was a five hour hike down mostly steep trails to the canyon floor where we stayed the night at Llanuar Lodge. Where, during dinner a loco kitty continued to hop up into my lap until I finally relinquished the fight and allowed it to sleep on my lap for the remained of the evening. We, Duncan, Thea, and I shared an amazing room complete with handmade bamboo and rock walls, gravel flooring, and pillows made of straw, and of course, no electricity. It was a neat place though and boasted of the canyon’s only thermal pools which we all enjoyed before dinner.

The next morning we started our five hour hike across several mountains around 9:00, after a breakfast of pineapple pancakes, served with, but of course, strawberry jelly. Before leaving home I filled my camelbak, which holds 2.5 liters of water and had an extra 2 liters in two other water bottles. Although it gets very cool here at night, especially in the bottom of the canyon, it gets pretty hot during the day and just as we arrived at Paraiso del Palmas, I sucked the last drop of water from my camelbak. This place was comparable to Llanuar Lodge but had several cold, and I mean COLD, water pools. It was afternoon when we arrived and the sun was still out for a few hours so we decided to take advantage of the sunshine and hung around the pool until lunch was ready. Later that night, after dinner, I looked up into the sky to be greeted by what seemed to be a million and a half stars. I could even clearly see the milky way. It was amazing. There aren’t many places in the world where you can see stars without dealing with light pollution. It really does make a huge difference.

That evening, I began to ask Jhon what time we needed to get up in the morning as an English couple had told us that they were leaving at 5 o’clock in the morning and another group was leaving at 4 o’clock. He was acting a little odd so I thought the better question was to ask when we’d be eating breakfast in the morning. When he replied 9:00, I automatically let out a “Yahoo!” thinking that I could sleep in until 8:55. You can only imagine my surprise when, before 5:00 in the morning, I heard a tapping at the door and a voice saying “Katherine, Thea, Duncan…”. I tried to ignore him for a bit but it wasn’t any use, so I put my torch (headlamp) on my head and began to crawl out of my warm bed. Ugh. Why on earth would anyone get up at 5:00 in the morning to do anything? And, did he expect us to hike up the mountain in the dark? So, the joke was on us, breakfast, although it really was at 9:00 in the morning was at the top of the canyon.

Once we were up and about to leave I searched my bag for my last apple bar, as I was sure I had one left. Hiking up a mountain for three hours without any food in my stomach didn’t sound appealing and with the change in altitude from the bottom of the canyon to the top, it really is important to have some source of energy. After several minutes of searching I finally gave up and Thea offered me one of her crackers and Duncan gave me half of a cookie he was eating. I felt like I was living during the Great Depression and getting food rations.

The hike wasn’t too bad, a 1,100 meter ascent in three hours. There were parts that were difficult because of loose gravel and other parts had large, oddly shaped “stepping” stones cut into the side of the mountain. It took three hours to make it to the top, with multiple stops during which I would blow my nose (as I had developed a sinus infection) and take time to look around me as it was much to dangerous to pay attention to anything other than where your next step would be on the trail.

The last exciting part of the hike took place just mere meters from the top when I looked up to see a man and three burros headed my way. It was too late to go to the left (the mountain side) so I moved over as far as I could to the right to allow them room to pass. The man, burro #1, and burro #2 passed without incident but burro #3 apparently had it in for me because I noticed as he walked he continued to get closer and closer to the edge, where I just so happened to be standing. As he passed, I sucked in my stomach but it was no use as there wasn’t enough room for both of us. Of course, burro #3 being on the inside didn’t have need for concern when we collided. It was I who almost saw my life flash before my eyes when my little feet slipped off the trail and down the side of the mountain. Had it not of been for a rather large boulder within arms reach I wouldn’t be sitting here in my apartment sharing this story with you. How ironic it would have been to be just steps from the top and then die. Thankfully, that day, that wasn’t the story of my life.

Another interesting item that the English couple shared with us is that their guide took them to one of the local Peruvian family’s houses where they donned traditional Peruvian clothing and where given pick axes and some other type of tool used to level the ground. When they began, I thought, “Oh! That’s neat; they got to take a picture. Just like at one of those old-time picture places at Six Flags…cool.” But oh no! They actually worked the fields for several hours. By the time they were finished with their story, tears were streaming down my face I was laughing so hard. Just thinking about it now makes me laugh uncontrollably. So, after we ate breakfast, when our guide told us that we were heading to the fields you can only imagine my horror and that I was thinking, “I actually paid for this?”

Duncan, Thea, and I decided that lots of things are lost in translation, especially when my Spanish is better than our guide’s English. We walked for a while through town but then came upon a tourist bus, which we boarded and eventually arrived in a small town near Chivay, to enjoy some more thermal pools. I am pretty sure these pools were much hotter than the others we had enjoyed at Llanuar, which after hiking 20 km should have sounded pretty good but there was one big difference. That day, it was around noon when we got there and the sun was beating down…not the time of day you want to be hanging out in a “hot tub”.

During lunch, we got to witness the power of numbers when we walked out of a restaurant in search of a more economical meal and the owner ran after us and said we could have soup, salad, chicken or alpaca, French fries, and a drink for 12 soles, which equates to about $4.00 American. So, we all went back into the restaurant and were happy that we’d saved $2.00 a piece. On the way back, we napped, exchanged email addresses, and laughed at the two guys from Ireland and Poland, as apparently they had become great friends since meeting each other a few days earlier. I couldn’t resist snapping a picture; they were just too cute together.

So, all in all, my trip was amazing. It did take me two days of walking back and forth from school to feel normal again. (For two days it seemed that just being able to go up and down the stairs at my house without assistance was a major accomplishment.) I did decide that it was critical for me to have my hiking boots for my next excursion so I’ve asked a friend from back home to send them to me. Hopefully they will be here sometime this week.

And, as for my very nice, very new, North Face jacket, it was waiting for me at the restaurant. They were holding it for me. How incredible is that? Oh, and the part about Henry getting up to check to make sure the guy who came to pick me up was legit? Well, it turns out (I discovered upon my return to the house) that a guy came to the house at 3:00 in the morning asking for me. He didn’t have a car or a taxi and my house mother’s sister who answered the door thought it very strange and told the guy to go away. I still don’t have a clue who that guy was because later that evening we all got together to have a drink and I asked the guide if he came to the house earlier in the morning and he said absolutely not. Here, we call that muy extraño.

A Little Trivia

2008-09-28T22:04:00.006-05:00

Well, I know that I promised you all that I would write about my Colca Canyon experience this weekend and since I've noticed that there are actually a few of you who are logging onto the site I thought I should at least put something out here since I didn't get around to the trip report as I had an entire host of things to do this weekend. See below for details...

Friday night I spent the evening with Renato, my host brother, telling him about the wonders of American music...in spanish of course. I brought along my laptop so I have lots of completely amazing hit songs which I shared with him. I explain why Dave Matthews Band is probably one of the most incredible bands of all time, why The Hooters were popular in the 80's, and introduced him to lesser known artists such as Griffin House and legends such as Elvis and Frank Sinatra. Needless to say, his computer was working overtime the rest of the night downloading music from the internet. I will also have to say that he shared some interesting Peruvian music with me...some of which I really liked.

Saturday morning I got up early so I could take my 30 minute walk to school. So as not to disappoint the street pups, I packed several treats and was busy along the way handing them out to wayward strays. After my four hours of class, during which I learned the past tense...yahoo!!! Yes, in two weeks time I am now in my American equivalent of my third semester of spanish classes. Amazing! As usual, when I returned, I needed to take my afternoon nap. I've finally decided that it's not only my brain working really hard that's making me tired, it's also because I'm sitting outside in the sun for four hours each day. We're under an umbrella but the material isn't very thick so a lot of light is filtering through. I could really give Sherlock Holmes a run for his money...it only took me two weeks to notice.

So after my re-energizing nap I got up to take a semi-warm shower (by this time it was past the 3 o'clock cut off for agua caliente) and got ready to go out. I had a wonderful dinner with my host family and when I didn't hear back from my Scottish friend, Craig, another student at the school, Renato said he'd go out with me so I wouldn't have to go by myself. My friends, Anna and Ines, were apparently near death on their Misti hike, one of the three mountains that surrounds Arequipa at a mere 19,000 feet. (I decided after developing a sinus infection last weekend at Colca that it was probably best that I not go until I had that under control. Boy am I glad I played it smart.) So, Renato and I left the house for an evening of dancing. My dance teacher, Edwardo, said I needed to practice and where else better to practice that at the discoteques? I enjoyed an evening of very bad karaoke singing, live music, and DJ played American and Latin America music collections all in the same club. I had fun trying out my new salsa and merengue moves though. Like they say, practice makes perfect.

Today, because of all my practice last night I didn't crawl out of bed until 11:00. This is proof I'm sure of my desire to only be the very best at everything I do. So after eating breakfast at 11:00, then lunch at 1:00, it was time to start studying. I took at break at 5:00 to head out with Ines to meet Anna at Cusco Coffee near the Plaza. Anna is leaving tomorrow for Puno, Peru, then on to La Paz, Bolivia, then back to Cusco, Peru where we all three hope to meet up to hike Machu Pichu in mid-October. Upon returning, I began my studies where I left off and just now decided to take a break to share with you some more of my incredibly interesting life. :o)

So, now you can understand why I haven't had any time to write about my Colca Canyon adventure. But...the title to this blog is "A Little Trivia" and no, I haven't written anything concerning trivia have I? Nope...but here goes. I've seen this twice since I've been here. The first time I didn't have my camera and the second time (this weekend) I had it but I felt a little bad about taking the picture. The next time I see this I promise I'll take a picture and post it because it's the answer after all! So, here goes....

Question: What has two wheels, a set of pedals, a platform, a rack for stacking things, lots of pots and pans, and a hardworking Peruvian?

Living an Ordinary Life in Arequipa

2008-09-25T14:47:00.013-05:00

Today is my 35th birthday. I will spend most of my day either at school or studying which at this point in my life makes me completely happy. I’m still worn out from my weekend excursion to Colca Canyon and have decided that I’m either really getting old or I’m much more out of shape than I thought.

I woke up early this morning and opened some birthday cards from some friends that I had taken with me from home. What lovely surprises…thank you all for the smiles. I then decided that since it was my birthday that I should go back to sleep. That worked for a little while but now I am ancy again and ready to do something but not something that includes leaving my warm bed.

I was going to write about my Colca Canyon experience first but I think I’ll save the really exciting stories for later in the week…perhaps this weekend. Although weekend excursions to canyons and mountains are exciting there is plenty here in daily life that amuses me. So, I thought I’d share that with you; a little glimpse of my kooky life in Peru. These are just a few of the things I’ve experienced in the short week and half that I have been here…

· I walk to school every morning. It’s a good 30 minute walk so I’m figuring it’s almost two miles. (I’m not trying to set any land speed records, okay.) But on the way to school I pass several interesting things. Dogs on the roofs of houses looking down into the street to see what or who they can harass. I pass by my favorite sign every morning about half way into my walk; hot dogs. It makes me laugh every time. Just before I get to school, I have to cross the street where there is a manual traffic signal i.e. a little policeman in a little house. At night he has a glow stick similar to the ones they use at the airport at night to help the pilot know where to park the plane.

· You all know I’m a big fan of animals. So it shouldn’t surprise you that within my first week I went to the supermarket (don’t think Wal-Mart here, it’s not that glamorous) and bought some dog treats. There are more dogs running the street here than I could count in a lifetime. In the mornings generally you can find them foraging for food. You might think that the sight of puppies running the streets would break your heart on a daily basis but sometimes it makes me smile. (Like I said, it’s a kooky little world I live in.) There are times when I’ll pass a “family” of dogs because that’s how they act. They hang out together and it’s clear to me that they watch out for each other. Frequently I’ll pass a group of four or five dogs who look like they’ve never even dreamed of a bath and all but one, the lookout dog, will be taking a nap. I can only imagine the loyalty in the group. Hey guys…looks like there’s trouble up ahead, we better get outta here.

· Every day I eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner with my host family. You would think that mealtimes would be peaceful times where one could relax. And sometimes I do. But most of the time my brain is in overdrive trying to keep up with and stay involved in the conversation. It’s always a glorious moment when I say something that was intended to be funny and everyone laughs. I’m just always praying it’s because I said what I was trying to say. The meals are delicious though. Lunch is definitely the biggest meal here and is always three courses. The first course is generally soup. Before arriving here I’d only had one type of soup in my life and pretty much would veto anything other than homemade potato soup. Not anymore. I eat whatever it is they put in front of me. I’ve been told that people in the larger cities don’t fix cuy (guinea pig) or gato (cat). Yep…that’s right, those cute little fuzzy pets of yours are dinnertime chow for an entire country. The second course is generally some type of meat and rice. They also fix a lot of vegetables, which I’ve never been really good at eating. The third course is generally some kind of fruit dish. My favorite…fresh pineapple, sautéed in butter, sugar, and fresh orange juice. You talk about yummy.

(This is my school.)

· I think the only reason I’m able to eat all the fruit and veggies here is because they are so fresh. I have never had fruit so juicy in my life. I don’t know that I’ll be able to eat it anymore when I return home. Serena said the same thing when we were in Miami, that she couldn’t eat it when I offered her some grapes. At the time I didn’t understand but now I totally get it. There is a difference. And it’s huge. One of my favorite fruits is something that grows on a tree, looks similar to an orange but has a shell like an egg. You have to crack it to eat it. It looks totally disgusting. It reminds me of something out of Alien verses Predators…slimy clear liquid with nasty green colored seeds. You shouldn’t have an edible picture in your head at this point, because it doesn’t look edible but it is out of this world delicious. You just don’t want to chew, just swallow. It’s very dulce…Spanish for sweet.

· Going to the bathroom is always a fun adventure around here. It’s not that you can’t find one but generally when you do come across one there is never any toilet paper. So, I’ve gotten used to carrying around my own. And the tricky part is if you do have some then you have to remember to put it in the trash can afterwards. I have to really think about it to remember…no multitasking for me in the bathroom any more! The shower is another thing I’m figuring out. At home, I’d always take a shower in the morning while some people take showers in the evening right before going to bed. Here, I quickly learned that if I want a hot shower I have to take one between 2 and 4 o’clock in the afternoon. The water is solar heated which basically means it sits in a black tank on top of the house which warms the water when the sun beats down during the day. I am fortunate to have an electric heater shower head but it’s no match for the cold water in the morning or at night. You can only imagine how crazy my hair is every day from 8:00 am until mid-afternoon. I’m glad I brought plenty of ponytail holders.

· Another interesting thing I’ve noticed is that they ration napkins here. They have the corner on the market for the world smallest napkins. They are the same size as ours but only one sheet. So where ours is like an 18x18 inch square of paper folded multiple times theirs is just one little sheet. So if you’re going to spill anything on your lap you better be good at strategically placing food.

(This is my apartment.)

· The transportation around town is quite interesting as well. Most of the buses here resemble VW vans and are commonly packed with 50 people. It’s quite a sight and an experience. I haven’t taken the bus that many times because I’m not really sure where they all go just yet. They all have signs on the front but by the time I have figured out which one I should be on it’s already passed me. You’d think that the guy hired to yell at people to get on the bus and who tells everyone where it’s going would help but my Spanish isn’t that good just yet. So generally I either walk to the Plaza de Armas (the city center) or I take a taxi. The problem with taxis for me is that I look like a foreigner…blonde hair (at least half of it…that irresponsible hair thing I’ve got going on) and blue eyes make me a target for every freakazoid out there. Anywhere I’m going a taxi should cost 3 soles which translates to $1.00 American…pretty cheap transportation when you figure it takes me about 40 minutes to walk from my apartment to the Plaza…about 2.75 miles, one-way. But commonly this is how the conversation goes…”A la Avenida San Martín…cuesta es?” And I commonly here “cinco soles” or worse “siete soles” to which I reply “es muy caro, no gracias” and then go look for another taxi. Yesterday was the first day that the first taxi driver I asked replied “tres soles” – Yahoo! No walking for me! I think it might have something to do with my Spanish getting better, I’m not sure. Maybe I just got lucky and got an honest driver.

(This is my teacher, Elivra.)

· I’m also working on my whole “being assertive thing”. Regardless of whether it’s standing in a line or walking down the sidewalk if you don’t take charge you’re not going to get anywhere. So, I’m learning basically how not to be as polite as I used to be. I am also learning how to disregard constant horn beeping telling me that I need to hurry up as I cross the street. This place would be a nightmare for a third grader…they’d never get across the street.

So that’s pretty much what I’m up to these days…passing out treats to the pups who live on the streets, studying Spanish about 6-7 hours a day, and mixing in some fun with my new friends. I was originally thinking about staying here 3 weeks then traveling for a few weeks but I really like my Spanish teacher, Elvira, and things are going well and I’m enjoying being able to speak the language. It’s amazing at this pace what a difference a day can make…so I don’t know. I suppose I’ll leave it up to chance at this point and see which way the wind blows. Isn’t that what Mary Poppins does?

(These are my friends, Ines (Germany) and Anna (Poland).

Author's note: I was unable to publish this blog until the following day due to the fact that all of South America was without internet service. My birthday has and will continue to be celebrated on September 24th.

Bienvenido a Perú

2008-09-14T21:18:00.006-05:00

My first day in Peru started early Friday at 6:15 when my plane touched down in Lima. Antonio, my driver, was very gracious and pointed out interesting sights along the way to La Posada del Parque, the hotel where I stayed while in Lima. It’s a relatively quite place and the only reason I say relatively is that I am sure that I will hear the incessant beeping of car horns all night long. I don’t think the drivers honk at anything in particular. I think they either like the sound of their horn (some are quite entertaining, on the first toot anyway) or perhaps they just get bored and it gives them something to do in the traffic while they’re waiting.

Speaking of traffic, I had heard and read that it is some of the worst in the world. And I will have to say that I agree. I have only seen driving like this one other time in my life. It was when I was in Barcelona and I remember thinking back then that anyone who got in a car had a death wish. I am happy to report that I have not been involved in any automobile accidents as of yet nor have I witnessed any. I did, however see numerous near misses and close calls. There are two things that are perplexing me at this moment about things I saw while being strategically driven through the city. The first is how many people can actually fit in a minibus? These small buses look like a sardine cannery attendant packed them. They are similar to VW vans and apparently have a capacity of 50. The second question is what in the world are these people who walk down the middle of the road thinking? In America, it is common to see window washers or people with flowers weaving in and out of traffic near an intersection. I’m okay with this and although I think it’s dangerous it makes more sense than what I’ve seen so far. I’ve seen old women, young men, and children, all walking the white lines in the middle of the road peddling whatever it is they think will sell. This wouldn’t be too much of a stretch from what you see in America if not for a few things. 1) There are three lanes of traffic but cars are five lanes thick and 2) In between the cars is where the motorcycles zip by which also happens to be the street peddlers’ lanes. I really don’t understand how there aren’t more accidents and deaths. Fortunately, I haven’t witnessed anyone driving on the sidewalk as I did when I was in Puerto Rico; always proof that things can get worse.

While in Lima, I walked around the city, one thing the guide book says you really shouldn’t do. However, my new Peruvian friend, Eulo, from the hotel wanted to practice his English so he went along with me. We first headed to the Museo de la Archeological and then on to the Plaza Mejor and the Cathedral. I also had a local dish, ceviche which was very yummy. In the evening, I had dinner with a new friend from England, Rachel. It was her last night in Lima and she gave me several pointers on things to see in Peru. She’s a very sweet girl and I’m looking forward to traveling to England and visiting my new friend. On Saturday afternoon I ventured out on my own and visited the Museo de la San Francisco y Catacombes. The San Francisco Monastery was one of the most important churches in Lima in the 17th century which also served as the local cemetery. During the 17th and 18th centuries there were over 200 monks that lived at the convent. Today, there are a total of 35. Although the church was absolutely unforgettable it was easily surpasses by the catacombs which served as the burial grounds for over 75,000 people for over two centuries. I think it would be a little creepy to go to church on Sunday knowing that there were dead people right under the pews but apparently that was life back then.

Now, I am sitting in my apartment in Arequipa which is in Southern Peru. I’ve met a whole host of interesting people on my trip. Serena, from Milan, who loves to salsa dance. Katharina, originally from Germany, who now lives in Paris. Brenda, who lives in North Carolina but was born in Peru. Rachel, who is a vet who lives in England and my newest friend, Ines, who is from Hamburg, Germany. She is staying with the same host family as I am. She’s a great girl and took me out today to the supermarket so I could pick up some things and showed me around some of Arequipa…mainly the beautiful Plaza de Armas.

My host family, the Paz-Cornejo’s are amazing. They speak slowly and use exaggerated hand gestures so most of the time I am able, even with my limited ability, to keep up with the conversation. As I said before, I am actually in a small apartment above the main house, which is a little bigger than my cabin at the lake. There are two bedrooms, one bathroom, a living room, and a full kitchen. I think at some point I will probably have a roommate which will be fine with me. Ines has a room in the main house. Although I haven’t met everyone, apparently the grandmother, and a sister with her children also live here. It kind of reminds me of a small apartment complex.

Last night while I was sleeping I awoke to what sounded like gunshots and lots of them. I lay there in bed thinking “Boy am I in the wrong place. It’s not safe to go out at all at night.” I asked Henry, the father, in the morning, in completely broken Spanish what the noise was last night. He said that it was the church setting off fireworks in a celebration. I can’t tell you how relieved I was. It is much calmer here than in Lima. Not near as many people and much less traffic, although no one here knows how to drive either.

I start school tomorrow at 9:00 a.m. Ines says it will take us 30 minutes to walk there. I’m looking forward to it. She says that she’s only been in school a week and had never taken Spanish before and she speaks so much better than me. She has been in country for three weeks now though and in a few weeks she’ll start volunteering at a local orphanage. We’ve already talked about taking a few trips together, although at this point I’m sad to report that I might not be able to make it to Bolivia…political unrest. Apparently the Presidents of both Bolivia and Venezuela have kicked out the U.S. Ambassadors. We’ll see though…the most dangerous road in the world is in Bolivia and I was really looking forward to riding a bike on it. So maybe things will calm down before too long.

Of course, being a quick learner, there are some things I’ve already figured out…
1) When you ride in the taxi always make sure to keep your bags in the center of the car as someone walking down the street will take them from you if they are near the door when you are stopped.
2) Traffic signals and signs mean absolutely nothing…to anyone.
3) No one will speak to you (or heckle you) if you have a male escort and the exact opposite is true…no escort, you better get ready!
4) Don’t even think about trying to pass off an old or torn bill…American or Sol. No one will take them…period.
5) Unless you want to constantly be at the end of the line you better get ready to be pushy. It’s time to learn to be assertive.

I’ve already had great fun and am looking forward to school this week. I already know my mind is going to be worn out. Translating the dinner conversations has been fun yet exhausting. I’m ready for this to get a little easier. But number one…it’s been great fun!

The Outer Bands of Ike

2008-09-10T19:31:00.002-05:00

Welcome to sunny Miami! Wait, scratch that. Welcome to…cloudy, steamy Miami! Yep! That’s more like it. I arrived in Ft. Lauderdale yesterday afternoon and was enjoying the sights inside the chic airport; lots of turquoise, funky carpeting, starfish and seashells, even a rum bar complete with mast and main sail from a real sailboat, thinking that this was another city I’d add to my list of possible homes. Then it hit me. As soon as I took one step outside, the humidity combined with heat. The next thing I did was set down my bags and knot up my hair. By the time I made it to the rental car I was sopping wet. I had also decided that I packed way too much.

The plane ride wasn’t too bad if you consider that we were flying into the outer bands of a hurricane. The pilot informed us that we would be encountering 35 mph winds and to make sure to stay seated and that the flight attendants would be doing the same. As we got closer to the ground and I was able to see the highways lined with palm trees I wondered if the people in the cars below could see our plane bouncing around in the air. At one point, another passenger let out a shriek and the next thing I thought of was being at the county fair watching little children wearing crash helmets riding bronco sheep. If you’ve never seen anything like that you really should. It’s similar to a cowboy riding a bronco but much cuter. Anyway, that’s what I felt like, one of those little cowgirls on a crazy sheep.

I also got a chuckle when one of my friends, who apparently has been chasing around his four children instead of watching the weather channel, replied to one of my emails where I was commenting on the possibility of missing my friend Ike. He was telling me not to worry, that more than likely I’d make other friends. I wish I could have been there to see his face when he finally realized that Ike was a hurricane and not a boy. I was also glad to know that it’s not just me that tends to check out on the world occasionally. But he is right…I am going to make other friends and very quickly.

I made it to South Beach without any problems and checked into the Clay Hotel/Hostel which is a place my Uncle Raymond recommended. It’s a very pink, white trimmed, Latin style building located in none other than the Historic Spanish district. How’s that for an omen? I’ve already had great fun. I have three roommates, all from Europe…Germany, Italy, and I’m not sure where, as she hasn’t really spoken yet. The first thing that Katharina, the German asked, is if I had an Oklahoma coin. Her brother asked her to help him finish his coin collection. Of course, that wasn’t on my list of things I needed so I’ve promised to mail her a quarter when I return.

I don’t have any pictures to post yet but I thought I would officially kick off my blog today. So far, I’ve just been wandering around South Beach which kind of reminds me of Venice Beach. The people watching is great and eavesdropping on conversations is equally entertaining. Miami is definitely a melting pot. You’re just as likely to hear any language in the world here as you would be to hear English. I love to see cultures mixed. On the corner you can hear Spanish (of course), Italian (ciao Bella…my favorite Italian phrase), Russian, French, Greek, and anything else you can imagine. It makes me want to learn them all. Spanish is first on my agenda though.

That’s it for now. The next time you hear from me I will be a temporary resident of South America. How exciting!

Author's note: At press time, the unknown roommate had a name...Nicola. She's from England, she just worked a summer camp in New York for disadvantaged children (her third year) and will head home on Monday to find a nine-month job so she can return next year. I knew I'd make friends...

Some of My Favorite Things

2008-07-30T08:23:00.003-05:00

Any story that doesn't completely tidy things up at the end and let the reader know that everything did turn out happily ever after just wasn't well written. Not that my blog is well written but I am going to share with you some of my favorite things, if only so I can have a smile on my face this morning as I begin the process of getting my cabin and yard back the point where it looks like someone inhabits the place.

My favorite Amy line: "Are you crying about losing YOUR wallet?" (This was said to a 16 year old girl who plays for her. And yes, she was crying over something like that. Just imagine Amy not being very sympathetic toward the situation and you'll hear the tone in her voice, it was priceless.)

My favorite song on my iPod: "Forever in Blue Jeans" by Neil Diamond. (This also just happens to be my theme song although I seem to be missing one key ingredient. I'll let you guess, I got the jeans and me.)

My favorite bumper sticker, still: "My Labrador Retriever is smarter than your honor student." (And I did see some others that made me laugh so don't think there wasn't any competition for this honor.)

Favorite Julie moment: With this girl, it has to be the insightful conversations we have where I think both of us go, "Wow", at least at some point during every discussion. She's one of my people who hold me accountable and isn't afraid to be brutally honest. I love that girl.

Favorite Ben comment: "I'm okay with the directions being as specific as they can." (Believe me, when it comes to canyoneering in Zion National Park, it's very nice when you know exactly where you're going.)

My favorite compliment I received: "I hope I look like that when I'm 34." (This was spoken by one of Holly and Chad's friends from the float trip in Sacramento. The girl was 25ish and couldn't believe I was about to turn 35. Like I said...my favorite compliment. :o) )

My favorite Susan and Raymond moment: Watching Susan squash Raymond and me like little bugs at Rummy Cube. It really is a fun game...probably the best time I've ever had losing. And, yes, I did say that, for real.

Favorite Ben and Angelique moment: Ben and I realizing that we were rockin' 'cause we weren't the ones who didn't get the lid tightened on my Camelbak for our hike at Red Rock Canyon. We're both pretty sure there would have been two more bodies buried out in the desert in unmarked graves had it been one of us. You might be wondering why two and not just one...well, there can't be a witness, duh!

My favorite dialogue with Wyatt: Wyatt - "I love you Kay Beth." Me - "I love you too Wyatt." ('nuf said)

My favorite canyon at Zion National Park: Pine Creek, most definitely. I know, you've been hearing me talk about it for over a month now and still nothing. Someday...as Frank Sinatra sings.

My favorite Robert comment: "I'm literally sweating my ass off." (Hiking, bouldering, and scampering up hills will do that to you in 110 degree heat.)

Favorite moment with Amy, Abygail, Benjamin, and Elijah: Playing in the waterfall. (It's amazing how allowing yourself to act like a child can be so good for your soul.)

Average age of the world's best (and my favorite) huggers: Just under 7. (Mr. Behling skewed the results.)

Favorite moment with Amy T. sin (Spanish for without) kids: Going wine tasting and the wonderful conversations that ensued.

Favorite memory of a night out with Regina: Getting separated from the group and hearing people yelling "Oklahoma!" while looking for me. Ghost Riders are kind of like the marines...no one gets left behind. (We call ourselves Ghost Riders because we played for the Roughriders at Crowder and since we're retired, we're, you guessed it...ghosts!)

Favorite moment with Jeremy: Going to church with him on Sunday night. What an experience!

Favorite time with Sheri and Kylin: Playing memory and almost getting beat by a two year old. Yeah, she's really smart for her age.

Favorite song to sing: "Tomorrow" the song from Annie but only with my best Tomorrow singing buddies - Kylin and Sheri. We got quite good at it on the way home from the airport...think barbershop quartet minus one.

Favorite discussion with Holly, Chad, and Alex: Being educated on the definitions of hipsters and emos, and another group I can't mention since I understand the underlying negative meaning. (If you don't know these groups of people, which can be a lot of fun to people watch, let me know and I can school you now.)

Favorite news on the job front while gone: The FDIC has a ton of jobs posted on their website all across the country. (Hopefully this means I can find a job next year.)

Favorite Holly, Chad, and Alex moment: Singing "Don't Stop Believin'" by Journey while riding the bus back from the floating trip.

My favorite read: "Eat Pray Love" (And there was some competition: "Smart Girls Think Twice", "When Your Best Isn't Good Enough", "Love is a Choice". All are very good books and I have learned a lot about myself because of them. Of course, I took my Bible, and it is most definitely the best book on the planet. I excluded it just because it really doesn't have any competition.)

Favorite moment with Lee and Minerva: Kayaking in Elkhorn Slough. I had a great time watching all the seals and otters play. And of course the friendly banter between the two of them was always entertaining. :o)

My favorite vehicle: Oh! Hands down, my FJ. It now is better than ever and ready for the next road trip. I picked up some really cool and cute purple Hawaiian flowers with sliver lining on them while with Holly in Sacramento which I'm going to put on the back window. That way everyone will know that a girl drives that hot ride!

Favorite purchase: A scarf I bought at a Celtic store in Victoria, British Columbia, Canada, that was actually made in France. Liz got one too and we decided that it kind of went with her theme for this summer so it was perfect anyway...sorry, an inside joke that will have to remain inside.

Favorite sign by a street performer: "Juilliard Fund" (This kid was a saxophonist on the boardwalk in Fairhaven. He was actually quite good and was dressed for the part.)

Favorite time with Liz and Evan: Hanging out at Clayton Beach, playing fetch with Boo, and finding purple starfish on the beach.

My favorite meal: Dinner with Lee and Minerva at Phil's Fish Market. Talk about yummy...crab legs, fire roasted artichokes...Oh! It was absolutely delightful! That's followed closely by Mr. Behling's birthday dinner thanks to a yummy dessert complete with homemade whipped cream, courtesy of Mr. Behling himself.

Favorite gift received: A handmade starfish that Tiffany gave me. I can't find my little hooks or I would already have it hanging in front of my kitchen sink window. Her sister made it and it's beautiful.

Favorite San Juan Island memory: Being the second to last vehicle to skootch onto the ferry. The last one? Some of our new friends whose kayaks hung off the boat. The wait for the next ferry...three hours. Ha!

One of my favorite lines from my new favorite read: "When I get lonely these days, I think: So be lonely, Liz. Learn your way around loneliness. Make a map of it. Sit with it, for once in your life. Welcome to the human experience. But never again use another person's body or emotions as a scratching post for your unfulfilled yearnings." (Wow, it still gets me.)

My favorite question posed: "Tell me, what is it that you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?" (Yep. That's a good one for all of us.)

And last but not least, my favorite passage out of the bible which I found just before I set off on my journey. I would read it every now and then to make sure that I was staying on track. It's from Proverbs 2: 2-11 (NLT):

Tune your ears to wisdom, and concentrate on understanding. Cry out for insight, and ask for understanding. Search for them as you would for silver; seek them like hidden treasures. Then you will understand what it means to fear the Lord, and you will gain knowledge of God. For the Lord grants wisdom! From His mouth come knowledge and understanding. He grants a treasure of common sense to the honest. He is a shield to those who walk with integrity. He guards the paths of the just and protects those who are faithful to Him. Then you will understand what is right, just, and fair, and you will find the right way to go. For wisdom will enter your heart, and knowledge will fill you with joy. Wise choices will watch over you. Understanding will keep you safe.

I'm now at a time in my life where I get to decide which way to go. Please pray for me that I will hear Him and gain wisdom and understanding and I will be able to make wise choices about my future. That's all for me for now...see you in September.

Planes, Trains, and Suicide Attempts

2008-07-30T00:19:00.023-05:00

If any of you have ever seen Steve Martin and John Candy in the movie Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, then you know exactly how my second trip to Canada went...not well. Well, that's not necessarily true. While I was there, in the company of good friends, everything was perfect, including the weather. It was just getting there and back when things didn't go just so. And, just in case you're wondering, I did not attempt to commit suicide nor did anyone I know. At least I don't think I knew that person. Anyway, back to my travels...

A week ago last Monday, (is that seriously possible? like 8 days ago? - whew! they weren't kidding...time does fly when you're having fun.) I took my first America-originated train ride from Bellingham, Washington, to Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. Now, I've traveled on my fair share of trains but things are apparently a lot different in Europe. For example, they (the little people who take your tickets, I'm going to call them ticketmen) speak English. Now, I'm sure you're thinking I'm off my rocker because, after all, I speak English. But in this case, they speak a different type of English; I call it Traglish. That's short for Train English. If the first two ticketmen I came across hadn't been pointing in the direction they wanted me to hustle, I would have just as soon though they were asking me whether or not I preferred liver over duck.

I finally made it to the second level of the train when the next ticketman asked me if I was a "one". I looked at him and said, "I have absolutely no idea." Then, he looked at me like "are you for real?" I'm starting to get hot and scanning, scanning, scanning my train ticket trying to figure out what a "one" is. Am I in car one? Am I row one? Am I number one? Ahhh!!! Yes! I am a "one". By this point, (which was only a second I'm sure, that seemed like an eternity on a 150,000 degree planet for me) he had decided I was a rather stupid "one". Well, maybe, but if he'd had used proper English and asked me "Are you traveling by yourself today?" I would have appropriately and very intelligently answered, "Yes, I am." But, no. Traglish makes things all confusing and to make matters worse, they don't publish a dictionary. So, my advice is to just smile a lot and nod your head and stay on the lookout for pointing fingers.

After a short two hour ride up the coast to Vancouver, I waited in line for immigration officials to let me in to the country. I didn't think this would be a big deal since I'd just been there three days earlier. Well, after playing not 20 but 40 questions with the Canadian immigration official, he finally let me in the country. Apparently I look suspicious. I'm sure the next person in line was enjoying our comedy routine (if they weren't in a hurry that is) because it was pretty comical. At first I thought it was kind of fun but then I started thinking "if he's going to ask me this many questions we're gonna have to be on a date." There were all kinds of off the wall questions. My friend Tiffany and her son Wyatt could see me and were amazed at the amount of time it took for me to get through my interrogation. I thought at one point I was going to have to go fetch her just to prove her existence. I think it's one of those things where you just had to be there, so I'll keep moving.

Now is probably a good time for me to introduce you to my new boyfriend, Wyatt. He's five, well, five and a half. He's tall for his age. Very sharp. Doesn't like team sports which really bums out his mom but she's doing a good job of not living vicariously through him. He enjoys ice skating, swimming lessons, and is really into Star Wars movies. And from the first moment we met he said "I love you Kay Beth". And Tom Cruise had Renee Zellweger "at hello". Ha!

Tiffany, Wyatt, and I had a great time cruising around Vancouver taking in all the sights. We went to Stanley Park and walked the seawall while looking at all the nutty people in the freezing cold water. Tiffany and I also noticed that almost everyone on the beach had at least one tattoo. They're pretty popular. I was thinking of getting one but I'm a little too non-committal and not really into self-inflicted pain and those are two prerequisites I'm pretty sure. We also went to Cypress Mountain where we could see all of Vancouver including the beach across the bay where we had just been.

I didn't have a whole lot of time to spend in Vancouver with Tiffany, Trevor, and Wyatt but we definitely made the most of it. Some things never change and although people tell me I still look the same as I did in college, Tiffany has to have me beat. The only difference between then and now is that she doesn't wear near as much black and she's got bangs. And well, she's a mom. That's definitely a change but you wouldn't be able to tell from looking at her, she looks great!

After going to swimming lessons and a nice lunch, Tiffany and Wyatt dropped me off at the Skytrain station so I could head back to the Waterfront in Vancouver. While waiting on the train I took the SeaBus to North Vancouver to go the the Market and wandered around there for a bit. Then while waiting for the return SeaBus I noticed a sign. It asked "Tell me, what is it that you plan to do with this one wild and precious life?" That's a good question. I'm not sure what my long-term answer is but I can tell you that I'm definitely pondering it.

The train ride back to Bellingham was a rather enjoyable one and much less stressful since I knew I was a "one", although no one bothered to ask me this time. Then, just as we were getting close to the border, the train came to a screeching halt. We weren't going that fast so don't be envisioning bodies flying around in the car and people screaming. It was more of a slow stop but with screeching noises. We sat there for a few minutes and since I was sitting next to the window, I had my cheek plastered to it trying to see what was happening up ahead. I finally leaned back when I saw smoke billowing out, thinking that we must be having engine problems. So, like any good traveler, I decided to head to the refreshment car to get a drink. Then like any fine American, I decided I was hungry too, and ordered something to eat.

Instead of going back to my seat I decided to stay in that car and eat my meal. I mentioned something about the train being stopped to the guy sitting across from me and he said "Yeah. We hit a guy." My first thought was "you shouldn't say stuff like that when you don't know it's true." Mind you, it was a thought, so I said "I'm sure you wouldn't joke about that but are you serious?" And when he said that he was I was thinking "What???" Then, the girl in front of me said, "Yeah, you can see them working on the guy right there." And sure enough, I could see one of the trainmen (he wasn't a ticketman) down in the rocks between the track and the ocean working on someone.

While the trainman worked to save the guy who had purposely stepped onto the tracks waiting for the train, we went up and down the track. Why? I'm still not sure. At one point, the car I was in went right past the guy. Sure enough, there he was. He had been thrown 15-20 feet from the tracks and landed on some big boulders. He had a gash on his head which was bleeding through the makeshift t-shirt bandage on his head and had another gash across his chest. He did appear to be alert and talking to the trainman who was still working on him while waiting for the paramedics to arrive.

Two hours later, we were on our way again. The apparent suicide attemptee had been taken to the hospital to be worked on and the investigators had completed their investigation. And, we finally had a new crew to relieve the ones who were working when we hit the man. I got to talk to the trainman who had worked on the man and asked how the conductor was doing. Even when something isn't your fault, I'd think he'd feel partially to blame even though there probably wasn't anything he could do to avoid the guy. He said that the conductor who was driving is very experienced with 34 years. I asked if that meant he had hit someone before but he declined to answer but did say that it happens frequently.

Now, you might at this point think I'm a little flippant about the entire situation but that's not true. I know that even though the guy on the tracks was alive when we left that that doesn't mean that he won't die due to internal injuries received...he was hit by a train after all. And, if he does live, he needs a lot of help. His family is also going to need a lot of help, regardless of the outcome. While we sat there, I wondered what had to have happened in his life for him to think this is the only way to deal with the situation. Life isn't always peachy but there is one person I've learned over the years who I can always go to and that is God. So, if you don't mind, please say a pray for this man and his family. They all need our help.

The last of my time in Bellingham was much slower than the fast-paced, first few days. Liz, Evan, and Angela, Quinn, and I enjoyed our bike ride to Fairhaven the next day. And on Thursday, after spending the day at the Pike Place Market in Seattle where I picked up some fresh salmon and shrimp for Jeremy's birthday party that weekend, I headed to the airport to fly back to Denver.

I'm really starting to like that place. Colorado, that is. Every time I drive by Frisco, it's like the little town is calling my name..."Kay Beth, Kay Beth". It sounds a little spooky but it's a nice voice. I drove by there twice this weekend on the way to and from Eagle where I spent the weekend enjoying more good conversations, a day at the spa in Glenwood Springs, and church with Jeremy on Sunday.

Where am I now? Well, I'm actually in my bed, my very own bed, in my very own little cabin on the lake in Adair, Oklahoma. I started driving yesterday evening (after a wonderful dinner with Julie in Denver) but ended up getting stopped just shy of the Kansas border because of a thunderstorm that was dumping enough rain to make it nearly impossible to drive. To top off my trip, I stopped back by my friend Marvin's bank to see him again. We chatted for a few minutes then both of us hit the road.

It won't be long and I'll be out of here again. This time? Banking school in Madison, Wisconsin. I'm not sure that there will be much interesting (okay, maybe publishable, if that's even a word) stuff going on but if you wait about a month and a half...say around the middle of September, you'll be able to check in on me as I head to South America to learn Spanish, master salsa moves, take some cooking classes, learn how to meditate and do yoga, and, but of course...more travels!!!

Until then...

There Was a Breach and I Was In the Bathroom

2008-07-23T10:57:00.006-05:00

I have been so busy since I hit the state of Washington that I haven't had time to stop to write. I have however, had ample opportunity to decide what to write about. I've been staying with my Cousin Liz, her husband, Russ, and their little boy, Evan, since I arrived. I've found time to take not one, but two trips to Canada during this time, have gone camping on Shaw Island, played on the beach (without going in the water), and met a whole host of amazing people.

On Friday last week, Liz, Evan, and I, took a ferry with my aunt and uncle (and Raymond's posse from grade school) to Victoria, British Columbia, Canada. I've never been on a ferry before except for the smaller sized ferries/boats that take people to and from the train station and mainland in Venice. Like any good traveler, I was doing my best to pack light and removed all unnecessary items from my day pack. Among the items removed: a deck of cards, the book I'm currently reading, and my journal. I did take enough "warm weather wear" along for the trip but it soon came to my attention that on a three hour one-way ferry ride, cards and a book actually come in pretty handy. Most of the passengers were veterans and had all the essential items to stay off boredom. I will be much more prepared the next time.

If you've never been to Victoria, you really should go. I decided it would be a great place to live. Except for one rather important feature: the weather. Now, I'm visiting during summer and it was most definitely a beautiful day but it still never got above 80 degrees Fahrenheit. With the postcard type flower baskets that hang from lampposts and awnings it's hard to imagine this place is anything but sunny and beautiful all year round. That isn't the case though and for the majority of the year, I'm quite sure I wouldn't be able to feel my fingers or toes.

While there, we visited Butchart Gardens. I'm sure it takes a small army to keep that place looking immaculate and colorful. And for people like me, who love flowers but generally don't have a clue which one I'm looking at, they have a handy brochure, complete with a picture of the plant, flower, or tree, its scientific name, its common name, its blooming season, and a whole host of other information. It's always nice when beauty and education are intermingled.

On the ferry ride home, our skipper noticed several whale watching boats converging off the coast of one of the many San Juan Islands. It didn't take long and we spotted one, then two, then three, then holy smokes! four, and finally a fifth...whale! Yahoo! As I was watching, patiently waiting to get a really good glimpse and picture of one, I could hear the Captain in the background saying "This is J Pod. They are foraging for food." I was quite amazed that our Captain was also apparently a marine biologist but I suppose anything is possible. It was amazing to see such large creatures though. We hung around for 15-20 minutes while they swam down the coast.

Then, almost as quickly as he had decided to stop, he decided we should head back to Bellingham. Once the boat turned around and started making its way south, I decided that it was time for me to head to the head. (For you non-sailing types, that means the bathroom.) As soon as I returned, all I could hear was "Did you see that breach?", "Can you believe that breach?", "Wow! There were three of them. I can't believe we got so lucky!" Oh! That's just great! I head to the john and the whales decide to put on a little acrobatic display. Just great! My luck! I come thousands of miles, and get the opportunity of a lifetime and I blow it. Oh well. If that's the only thing in life I miss because I am in the bathroom I suppose I'm a lucky girl. It does still stink though.

Today is my last day hanging out in Bellingham. Liz and I were planning to hike a trail at Mt. Baker but we kind of go with the flow. And the flow has gone this way...the babysitter (my aunt) had to skip town to fly to New York to be with my grandfather. He collapsed two days ago while walking back to his dorm room from the cafeteria. Yes, I did just say dorm room. He was accepted at Seton Hall to audit a United Nations course. And, it also appears that the beautiful weather that has been hanging around since I arrived has decided to take a hiatus and has left us with cool weather and cloudy skies. So, what to do with our spare time? We're going to take a bike ride to the market. It's also given me the opportunity to catch up on my blog and has given me some smiles as I relive my adventure thus far.

Tomorrow morning, I'm riding with my Uncle Raymond to Seattle, where I will spend the day in the downtown area before leaving on an evening flight to Denver. My journey is almost over but I still have a few more days before I reenter my "real" life. I haven't written much, well, really at all, about the journey I've been on from an internal, spiritual, and self-discovery perspective. This trip has been good for me. I've learned a lot about myself though and gotten closer to God. I don't have the universe and my role in it figured out just yet but that's okay because it will happen. I have faith.

Must love Dogs...and Cats

2008-07-15T09:33:00.010-05:00

If you know me at all, then you know that I'm what most people call a "dog person". What you may not know is that I secretly like cats. We always had a ton of kittens running around when I was a kid. I'm not sure what happened to them...most of them mysteriously disappeared. I do remember however, scrubbing in on several tail bobbing surgeries. Living at Martin Manor can be hazardous to your health if you're of the feline persuasion.

The past week I have been surrounded by cat lovers. My Cousin Holly, her soon to be husband, Chad, and his son Alex, are all very attached to Stella. A very attractive, dark haired beauty who accepted me into her domain by grooming my hair on several occasions. My Uncle Lee and Aunt Minerva are the saviors of wayward cats in Seaside, a town along the California coast. I'm not sure how many there are; I think perhaps six in total, not counting the neighbor's cat who comes around every day to say hello. They sport names like Charlie, Chow, and James Bond, just to name a few.

As I was cruising through the house yesterday afternoon something on the fridge caught my eye. Yes, I did see the word "dog"...in a cat house. How strange! Reading further, I understood why this document had been given permanent residence status in the Scheffel household. And yes, even though I am a dog person, it pretty much does sum up what I'm sure is a dog's view of life and it obviously accurately reflects all the cats I've encountered in my short life...with the exception of Kitty, my mom and dad's cute little gray and white fuzzball who has decided that life with dogs isn't so bad afterall.

As you read on I'm sure you'll understand why I just couldn't help but share it with you...

Excerpts from a Dog's Diary...(probably Bones and Copper's)

8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!

9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!

9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!

10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!

12:00 pm - Lunch! My favorite thing!

1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!

3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!

5:00 pm - Milk bones! My favorite thing!

7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!

8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!

11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!

Excerpts from a Cat's Diary...

Day 983 of my captivity.

My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength. The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet.

Today, I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a "good little hunter" I am. Bastards!

There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the evening. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of "allergies." I must learn what this means, and how to use it to my advantage.

Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow...but at the top of the stairs.

I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released - and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded.

The bird has got to be an informant. I observe him communicate with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe...for now.

If I knew who to give credit to for the above excerpts, I would definitely congratulate them on a job well done. I'm quite sure this is how dogs and cats view their lives.

Hunger is a Sign of Weakness

2008-07-14T18:30:00.023-05:00

It's been 16 days since I first stepped foot in the sunny state of California and true to that old saying, "all good things must come to an end". On Wednesday, I will head to San Jose to hop on a plane that will take me to Seattle, Washington, then on to Bellingham, were my Cousin Liz (with little Evan in tow, I hope) will be anxiously awaiting my arrival.

You might be wondering what I've been up to for the past week. I traded in my long nights of fast living in Southern California for a more subdued Northern California lifestyle. My friend Sheri and her two year old, Kylin, and I had a wonderful, relaxing, and sometimes too exciting time. I got to treat myself to a pedicure and a wonderful massage while in their company and worked in the long awaited "Sex in the City" movie. It was nice to slow down for awhile. And, I think I might have made a lasting impression on Kylin as she's still talking about me choking. Just suffice it to say that if you ever need to know the secret to getting red wine out of white carpet, Sheri and I know the trick.

After that, I was on to my Cousin Holly's house where I perfected my video gaming skills, made friends with Stella, a very pretty and lovey, although highly independent black cat, and schooled Holly, Chad, and Alex on the fine art of rafting.

On Saturday, eighteen of us went down the American River near Sacramento with the following gear: two rafts, four paddles, eight bright orange life jackets, three coolers of various size (containing tasty beverages), and three very large water guns. It was similar to floating down the Illinois River (for those of you from Oklahoma) but with much colder water. Chad was convinced he wasn't going to even get wet and tried to wear a pair of "regular" shorts before Holly told him he was going to wear his swimsuit. It didn't take me long to call him out on it when I saw him floating in the water courtesy of his orange life preserver. I think he may have had more fun than all of us.

The bus ride home was also one of those things to write home about...an entire bus load of people singing Journey's "Can't Stop Believing" and a solo performance of Vanilla's Ice's "Ice Ice Baby" by one of our groupies made for a memorable experience. If you're not smiling right now, I suppose you just had to be there.

Currently, I am in Seaside, California, which is right next to Monterey. It's a lot cooler here...highs in the 80's compared to 100 plus in Sacramento. My Uncle Lee keeps saying "Isn't there anything that you want to do while you're here?" Although I really did put them on my list because I just really enjoy spending time with them, we have fit in a lot of fun in two and half days. Yesterday, we rode bikes down to the wharf and continued on around the bay. The weather has been perfect and getting out and about was refreshing.

As we were heading out this morning to go kayaking in Elkhorn Slough, Lee was chastising Minerva and me for wanting to stop to buy some snacks. I've been out in a kayak before with no food. It's not fun. Lee's idea of a snack? Two suckers with bubblegum centers. According to him, hunger is a sign of weakness. Well, I'm as weak as they get I suppose 'cause I'm not skipping a meal for any reason. Minerva is kind though and she did share her twinkie...twinkies contain lots of protein I've been told. I inhaled my twix and a granola bar before we even headed out. What was anyone to expect? It was lunchtime.

After donning our wetsuits and life jackets that we were told to not take off under any circumstances, I finally got to see my mom's favorite animal, otters, up close and personal. (And no, I didn't get within 50 feet, just in case some federal agent is reading this thing...'cause it's illegal...and I never break the law.) We saw lots of wildlife that you don't normally see in Oklahoma, unless you're at the zoo. Besides otters, we saw harbor seals, pelicans, egrets, Great Blue Herons, Surf Scoter, Redbreasted Merganser, Bufflehead, Widgeon, Gadwall, and Shoveler ducks. Okay, maybe I didn't see all of them but the brochure I picked up said you could see them. :o)

There is one part of the brochure I found quite amusing, especially since I did make it back to dry land. It was the section on "Wind". Unlike, all the other sections, this one is, in its entirety, in bold. "Strong afternoon wind, typically out of the north-west at 10 - 20 knots, will blow up the slough and can be difficult to paddle against. Plan your trip to take advantage of wind and currents." They weren't lying. If you stopped for even a little sip of non-salted water, you were going to do the old one step forward, two steps back routine. We looked at it as great exercise and Lee decided that his sore arms and abs would go along well with his bottom that is already sore from biking the other day.

We finished our day with a wonderful meal at Phil's Fish Market and Restaurant which is located near the docks. Talk about yummy...fire roasted artichoke, hot crab with butter...I was in heaven. So, now, even though it's only 7:00 in the evening, I'm going to pretend I'm on Oklahoma time and turn in for the night. We have a Vietnamese market trip scheduled for the morning then it's back to the airport.

I'd Heard About It But Now I've Seen It...Massive Foreclosures

2008-07-11T15:39:00.003-05:00

Living in rural Oklahoma can leave you a little isolated at times. Isolated from pop culture, from city life, and the reality of a tumbling housing market. I've spent the last few weeks in California and although I'd heard about entire neighborhoods being foreclosed on, you can't quite fathom it until you actually see all the for sale signs with your own two eyes.

My cousin, Holly, and my friend, Sheri, both live near Sacramento. Today, I went for a run through the park and through some of the adjoining neighborhoods; quiet neighborhoods, with cute stucco and rock homes. The sad reality is that as I ran through one addition, where the houses are so close together that you have to share a communal mailbox, I counted over a dozen homes with either "For Sale" or "Bank Owned" signs on them, or houses that were in the process of being foreclosed on with key locks on the front doors and signs in the windows, saying "Do not trespass".

Just in the block around Holly's house, I counted 10 homes that have been foreclosed. That's 10 families who couldn't make their mortgage payments. And the sad thing is that it doesn't stop there. How many banks have been affected, how many mortgage-backed securities that little old ladies have in their investment portfolios have been affected? And, and an even better question, who's at fault? The more-than-likely uneducated borrower, the banker who should have known the borrower couldn't afford the house, the mortgage broker who was interested in the bonus, the underwriter who should have seen the red flags in the file, the appraiser who wanted to make the bank happy? I don't know who is to blame and more than likely it's everyone's fault individually and collectively and now everyone is paying the price.

Right now, even if you knew you had a problem and you needed to do something to fix it, you couldn't sell your house because the market is so depressed. Holly said that where she lives was just a rice field not even 10 years ago. In that short time, shopping centers have popped up, commercial buildings, housing additions, all with open space available and for sale signs posted everywhere. What a difficult time to be in the real estate market. Unless that is if you're a buyer with a lot of cash and time enough to wait out the downturn.

So, although I'm still having great fun hanging out with family and friends, this portion of the trip has been a reality check. Anyone who thinks that things are all peachy, well, you're just flat wrong. If you live in Pryor, Oklahoma, I can see where you'd think things are wonderful, what with Gatorade and Google moving to town but sometimes you have to look beyond your front porch because we all live in the same big world. And what is happening in Sacramento or Chicago or New York City is bound to affect you.

The Things You'll See at Venice Beach

2008-07-06T23:58:00.016-05:00

If you're like me, you've heard a million and a half stories about the strange things you'll see at Venice Beach. Well, all I can say is, the weren't telling any lies. I saw some pretty unusual characters in Vegas but these guys take the cake. At one point, I saw a kid, probably in his early 20's, walking around in only a pair of tighty-whities and tennis shoes and the even more confusing was that he was carrying around a spare pair in his hand. (I didn't ask.) Like I said, there are some strange cats there.

This is also the place where I realized that there is absolutely NO reason that come next February when I'm back from South America why I can't find a job. I remember having a conversation with my dad where I said that I wanted to be unemployed on my birthday that's coming up in September. His next question was "Does that mean you're unemployable?" Oh, I'm definitely employable alright, although surprisingly enough I think there are some people who might not hire me because of the way I look.

Jeremy and I were having that discussion over lunch, as I was saying that I had an irresponsible haircut and that if someone came in for an interview looking like me then I'd have a hard time hiring them. (Okay, so maybe I am a bit of a traditionalist after all.) But, in this case, I saw some places that wouldn't hire me because I don't look wild enough. I don't have any piercings (besides my ears in the normal place), I don't have any tattoos, and, well, I don't know what else people do to their bodies beyond that, and I probably don't want to think about it anyway. But Regina, Nicolette, and I looked completely out of place on the boardwalk that day.

My friends Jason and Shellee from back home were texting me (okay, so maybe I am just a little hip after all) and told me not to forget to take a gander at the bodybuilders. Holy heck! Even if you have no interest in going to Venice Beach, you've got to go just to see that. It's quite entertaining. My favorite is a guy who looked like a cross between Michael Jackson and Fabio. I also was amazed to see grown men actually painting on a tan. Yep! Complete with paint brush! They were having a contest that day and the three of us (along with a crowd of ooglers) got to witness first hand how these guys prep for the stage. Did I happen to mention it was entertaining? And the price of admission...free! An entertainment value as Robert would say!

Of course, there are the typical scenes. People playing pick up games of basketball, people rollerblading and riding bikes up and down the beach, sailboats tacking back and forth just off the beach, and the street performers and vendors. Now those are an interesting group of people. I saw everything from break dancers, to mimes, to gospel singers, to Bohemian type gypsy dancers who looked like they had never enjoyed a warm bath, to people who would do psalm readings. That's right! You can even find someone who will pray with you on the boardwalk. I listened to an old man who could whistle like different little animals, looked at paintings that grown people were displaying that looked like the artist was actually a one year old (I did see a few paintings that actually looked pretty nice just to give someone some credit). You can get your name on a piece of paper drawn in wild letters, see a two headed snake and a bald rat at the freak show, get your portrait done in fifteen minutes for fifteen dollars, and buy any kind of designer sunglasses under the sun for only $5. Wow! Isn't America great?!?

I didn't see any tap dancers though and from what I can tell, it looks like if you get up early enough in the morning you can chalk off your own portion of property and do your own thing. I don't even think I'd have to be that good because I think some people will pay to get you to quit doing whatever it is you're doing, especially if you're loud enough. It might be possible to get the sewing machine guy I saw to stitch me up a cute little outfit, I can get all wild looking with some temporary henna tattoos, and with those cool $5 shades, it won't be long and I should be back in the black. Regina did bring up the possibility of needing a permit but I'm thinking there are enough people there to keep the code enforcement officer busy long enough that if I keep moving around, I should be alright. So, should worse come to worst, and I really do mean WORST. Then you can find me doing a little tap dance routine (similar to those Fred Astaire used to do in the movies) on the boardwalk at Venice Beach. Don't forget your spare change!

Things That Go Bump In the Night

2008-07-06T14:23:00.021-05:00

My mom used to tell me that nothing good happens after midnight. And while she probably has a good point, there are some things that aren't that bad that do happen. I do remember being 16 at the time when she said that, although even when I was older, she was still calling trying to locate me if she thought it was too late and I still wasn't home. Here are a few of the things that have happened in the wee hours of the morning which I'm sure would drive my mom crazy if she knew...

This past weekend, I've been living up life near Los Angeles, where even on a non-holiday weekend things seem to travel at warp speed. Regina introduced me to the single LA way of life on Thursday night with a trip to a dueling piano bar called "Howl at the Moon" located near Universal Studios. They didn't exactly have a dance floor but they did have everything else you need: music, lights, and a pretty decent stage. You can tell from the pictures that I wasn't the only one with that idea. The place was packed and we had a great time dancing the night away.

The next evening, we watched fireworks like most Americans and hatched plans to go to Pismo Beach to go "quading". Now, in Oklahoman, that translates to 4-wheeling. I actually have been there before with my mom's family when I was 15 or 16. The Oceano Dunes is basically an enormous sandpit right next to the ocean. I was excited about going, that is until I figured out that we were scheduled to leave at 2:00 in the morning. Ugh! My mom says I'm supposed to be asleep, so that's what I tried to do in one of the most pimped out Ford F450's on the planet. Our driver, Alex, was a trooper and did a fine job of staying between the lines on our 3 1/2 hour road trip. He did require that the windows were down though and the music was thumping. I'm quite convinced that his stereo system could revive a dead person, especially if they were in my seat...the sub woofer was directly behind me.

We pulled in around 9:00 am and after taking a nap we headed out for some riding. It's hard to imagine anything that can be nerve-racking can be that much fun. You all know me; I will pretty much try anything. And this is one of those things that is exciting and exhilarating. You also have to be paying attention because at any moment there could be someone going 90 to nothing on the other side of the dune headed your way. Fortunately, you get a little heads up from the flags that everyone is required to have on either their bike or 4-wheeler. The wind shapes the dunes and when you can't see where you're headed your first urge is to slow down but if you do, I can
guarantee you that you're gonna end up standing ankle deep in sand, trying to lift up the back end of your 4-wheeler so you can roll down the "hill". Not too much fun but you can bet that if you're out there long enough, it'll happen to you.

We also found the track. You talk about exciting! (The video is at the end of the blog.) There are some peeps with some h-o-t quads and bikes and they are all riding fast. It kind of reminded me of watching the old-school drag racing you saw in the movie, Grease. It was a good day of riding accompanied by some nap time. The only thing that would have made it any better is if it hadn't been so cold. I had layer upon layer on and was still freezing. That evening, we lit a fire, roasted weenies, and made smores. It was a great end to an exciting and fun-filled day.

There are a few other things that I've learned while I've been in Southern California...

1. I've learned that there's a reason why they have spittoons in tasting rooms.

2. I've learned more about snakes than I ever wanted to know from Amy's children who are all into reptiles. (I also had the pleasure of sleeping in the same room as Slithie, a corn snake, while staying with Amy. Yahoo!)

3. I figured out why people have children. There are some amazingly sweet and touching moments that offset those temper tantrums, screams, and arguing. (This was my first experience with small children for any length of time...it was an eye-opener. My friend Amy is an excellent mom.)

4. I have discovered that God gave all of us talents and if those people at Venice Beach can find a job either singing, dancing, or trying to paint, or whatever it is they do, then something tells me I have a chance when my journey is comes to an end. If nothing else, maybe I can tap dance on the boardwalk at Venice Beach. I always enjoyed tap dancing. :)

On my journey, I've already experienced an incredible amount of amazing things and activities. I've gone from experiencing nature in some really remote and fascinating places to living it up in the big town, complete with sparkly lights, lots of commotion, and unusual people. I've gotten to hang out with friends I haven't seen in years and true to form, I've made some more.

Next up is Sacramento, which is where I'll head tomorrow afternoon. I'll be spending a few days with my friend, Sheri, who I met in Costa Rica over six years ago. Someone is going to have to warn people that I'm hard to shake...

Top Ten Causes of Death at Bryce Canyon

2008-07-02T11:19:00.022-05:00

This is straight from The Hoodoo - The guide that the National Park Service puts out for Bryce Canyon National Park.

10. Unsafe Driving - Auto vs. Animal. Watch for Wildlife!

9. Climbing/Sliding Down Cliffs - I don't know about you but a picture says a thousand words...does that LOOK safe to you?

8. Feeding Animals - As cute as this little guy looks, he'd steal your sandwich in a heartbeat. Don't let the furry tail and big brown eyes fool you.

7. Ignoring Extreme Weather - According to the literature, it's possible for the difference between the high and low to be up to 50 degrees. And I thought Oklahoma weather was fickle.

6. Dehydration - It's amazing you can be out hiking and never really sweat...it's that dry. So, stick to the rulebook whether you think you need it or not...1 liter every 1-2 hours. Just for the record, water is heavy.

5. Leaving the Trail - Even though this was some of the easier terrain we hiked, it was more slippery than at Zion. The article says to "stay away from cliff edges". Well, duh!

4. Over-exertion - It says to turn back before you become tired. Well, I'm telling you, if you're headed up this path and you get tired, you better just sit down 'cause you don't want to turn back at this point. The park ranger even said this was the easy way out.

3., 2., & Number 1 Cause of Death at Bryce Canyon...Bad Choice of Footwear - You may not be the coolest kiddie on the mountain but believe me, it's safer to wear those hiking shoes. I was just about to stop reading the article and then something caught my eye. It says, "Hiking without hiking boots is like SCUBA diving with out an air tank." That's exactly the same thing my brother Tom says about sleeping without a Cpap machine when you have sleep apnea. Wow...I wonder who borrowed that line from whom???

As you can see, we had a great time at Bryce. We went on the 3 mile hike on the Queen's Garden and Navajo Loop trail. Along the way, I talked to a father of four who said he had been there 10 years ago when his first daughter was one. He said he pushed her around the canyon in an off-road type stroller. There is no way! If you have small children wait until they can walk under their own power for at least 10 miles before you take them, unless you like being a pack mule.

I know I said I'd do a post about Pine Creek but I've decided to wait for the video and just post it. Ben thinks one of his friends can splice all the clips together and since we have video of almost the entire canyon that probably is the way to go.

Right now, I'm in Ventura, California. The last two days I've spent with Amy and her three children, Abygail (6), Benjamin (4), and Elijah (3). We've had a blast doing Origami, playing Candy Land, splashing around at a water park, and hiking up to a waterfall.

And So It Still Remains a Mystery

2008-06-29T00:46:00.009-05:00

As we were driving in our all-terrain Impala, we were doubly excited about what the day had in store. Canyoneering in Mystery Canyon...is there anything more mysterious than that? Only 12 hikers a day have the privilege of canyoneering in this highly sought after canyon. On the way, Amy asked that I NOT read anything about hiking as she'd had her fill of it the day before while hiking out of Birch Canyon. So, instead I read the introduction to the Canyon and read out loud about all 11 rappels. In another guide book we took with us, it said that the trailhead is often missed by canyoneers and approximately 2 hikers each year have to be rescued on this trail. It also said that several people get confused and enter adjacent canyons which didn't sound like a smart thing to do. The thing I was most excited about was towards the end of the trail when Mystery Canyon would run into The Narrows. We all knew it would be a long and difficult day and had figured that it would take us around 10 hours from start to finish. We were ready though.

Mystery Canyon received its name because the source of the waterfalls was a mystery. If you'd have asked us three hours into our trip we would have told you it was because it was a mystery where the trailhead was located. Ironically, when we finally did find it, it was only 50 feet from a point where we stopped to take this picture.

Now, from the picture, you may think "How in the world were they going to get down there?" Well, when we finally found the trailhead, Amy said the exact same thing. It's a technical canyon. We all still think we could have done it but by the time we found the trailhead it was 2:30; too late to go down. I really wanted to go and I'm sure a few of the others did as well. If you'd have read about the rappels and the beautiful lagoons I'm quite sure you would have wanted to go on as well. But we didn't have headlamps or warm clothing and after spending several hours wandering the top of the ridge we probably would have run short on water as well. As disappointing and aggravating as it was, we all think that God was looking out for us. Amy is convinced that someone was going to die and that He was protecting us. And perhaps maybe He was. It's still on my list of things to do one day though.

Ben was really good about taking videos and as you look and listen to the commentary, the excitment and following disappointment are completely evident. I suppose it was a nice hike in the woods on a pretty day though. Just not the one I was intending on taking.

Side note: At one point, I heard the familiar "do-do-do-do" of an incoming email and thought "I have reception?" And by George, I did. So, I called information and got the number for Zion National Park. I went through the menu items and listened to several suggestions for fixes to common problems, only to hear in the end that if I needed to speak to a Park Ranger to please leave my name, number, and a brief message, and someone would call me back. Not any help at all. Technically, it wasn't an emergency so I fought the urge to call the emergency phone number provided.

I realize that I haven't caught up with all the excitement through today but I've typed all I can type for one day and not get paid for doing it. So, it looks like Pine Creek Canyon Trail and Bryce Canyon will have to wait for another day. It's been fun looking through the pictures and videos though. We got some excellent footage of Pine Creek which means I'll have to research how in the world to combine separate videos. Always learning!

Tomorrow (actually today) we'll head back to Vegas. It's Amy's first time so we're going to take her around and show her what it's all about. Well, probably not ALL but some of the fun parts at least. Then on Monday, it's off to California, where I'll get to visit my friend and roommate from my last year at school, Amy T. Hall. I'm looking forward to each and every day and I hope you are as well. Ciao.

2.1 Zion Miles

2008-06-28T22:35:00.015-05:00

Earlier today I wrote about Birch Canyon and our adventure. What I didn't tell you was the end to the story. It was just too tempting to head outside to the pool, which I could see from where I was sitting. I have drive and determination but some things are just a little too much for even me.

After hiking 7 miles in the canyon and scrambling up a steep hill (think 70 degree steep) to make it to a cattle trail, we were exhausted but still weren't back to our car. Thankfully we all still had water, although the farther we went the less sure we were that our supply would last. It wasn't that it wasn't a pretty place to be, it was.

It was just that it seemed that we were on a never-ending red road. There was a pretty stream that ran through the property and like a lot of things if I'd have known the stream would have wound around and crossed the road several times I would have just wandered up the stream instead of sticking to the beaten path.

Unfortunately, my crystal ball is in the shop and I was left to what I could see with my own two eyes and getting lost in the middle of nowhere didn't seem like a lot of fun. According to one yahoo, he said that it was 2.1 miles but none of us are cripple or over 70, so I'm not sure how in the world it took us over an hour and a half to hike (even uphill) that road to the vehicle. Plus, there were other events that took place during the week that lead us to believe that Zion miles are like boy inches but only in reverse. We've decided on the following formula: 12 boy inches = 5 girl inches. Therefore, 2.1 Zion miles = 6 regular miles.

Some of the things you might have heard on the trail if you'd been either a cow, a squirrel, a lizard, or other small animal (you would have had to have been one of them because there was not another soul out there besides us) were:

How much longer? 3 Sponge Bobs (That's how Ben and Angelique translate time to Ethan and Emma.)

I wish I had a sandwich; I'd at least feel better. (Amy not being happy about not having packed a real lunch for the extra long hike.)

You have to go more miles if it's curvy. (Statement made by world-class driver Ben to Amy when discussing how much farther. Amy still stands by her original reply: it doesn't matter how many curves, it's the number of miles that count.)

Lots of laughing, in spite of the ridiculous amount of turns with no sight of the car. (Sometimes all you can do is laugh.)

Just stay here and we'll bring the car down to get you. Oh never mind! There's no way the car can get down here. (My statement to Amy when I was afraid she wasn't going to go any further and later figuring out that there's a reason why they say four wheel drive vehicles might not even be able to make it.)

To end this segment of the trip, I've added a video I took of Ben going down a 35 foot rappel that almost ended up with him being wet. Next up, Mystery Canyon & Pine Creek Canyon Trail, followed by exciting footage of Bryce Canyon National Park.

All Who Wander are Not Lost...

2008-06-28T12:06:00.039-05:00

Do you know how tricky it is to find a good heading for a multi-faceted blog? There are so many crafty little sayings to choose from and after all, isn't it supposed to give the reader a sense of direction? Well, in my case, I really am wandering but I'm pretty sure I'm not lost, at least not right now. (By the way, this title came from a "Life is Good" shirt I found at the Bryce Canyon general store that I just had to have.) I have decided that a nifty little gadget called a GPS would have been something handy to have packed but maybe we weren't supposed to find what we were looking for after all. And as Amy pointed out, maybe that was God's way of protecting us, as irritating as it was.

The last time I wrote anything of not-so-real consequence was when I was at Julie's in Denver, which as crazy as it may seem was over a week ago. Although there are lots of stories to tell, as in all adventures, I'm going to focus on my most recent ones and skip through others. If I told you everything, then that would mean that I'd have to include some 1,000 pictures and 50 plus videos taken this week alone. That's right folks! It's a good thing digital cameras were invented or this would be the end of my trip...I wouldn't be able to afford the film.

For those of you who haven't been to Vegas, and yes, I KNOW there is at least one of you out there. It really is a neat place to visit. I'm not a big gambler but I sure do love to people watch and I LOVE to dance. So, that's what I chose to do. After eating a wonderful dinner with some of Ben and Angelique's friends from Arizona, we took off to Jimmy Buffet's Margaritaville for "The Perfect Margarita". I think Kent really liked it but I thought it had to be more like drinking kerosene. Holy heck! Every sip was like taking a shot. Fortunately, Kent offered to drink mine as well and I was much happier with my substitute, a strawberry margarita. After that, it was off to see the Dueling Pianos at Harrah's. That was pretty entertaining but after sitting down for a bit, Ang and I were ancy to get on the dance floor. I'm just going to say that I had a wonderful time and I do know first hand that not everything in Vegas stays open 24 hours. I made it home safely obviously, and no, I didn't hitchhike...that's later.

Oh! I almost forgot. We also went to Red Rock Canyon near Vegas. It really is beautiful and even though all of us had been to Vegas before, none of us had ever been there. A perfect place for a peaceful drive, as long as you don't have Mario Andrette behind the wheel. Now, I feel the need for speed every once in awhile but Ben takes the cake. I almost felt a little bad asking him to stop every 300 yards so I could take a picture but I also knew that would be the only way to get him to slow down. Just kidding, Ben!

Red Rock really is worth visiting, I would compare it more to the rock structures at the Grand Canyon, although it's not really a canyon. After seeing pictures of Zion National Park and Bryce Canyon National Park it will be easy to see why I nearly missed telling you about it. They do have 19 trails there and we did make it on 2 of them, leaving the car at 2:00 pm in the hot sun. The temperature that day was 108 degrees. Flaming hot, especially when not in the shade. Not that I'm going to make a big deal about it at all but we did have one slight mishap on this adventure. We took great care before leaving our room to make sure we had plenty of ice cold water in my camelbak. You can imagine our surprise when we opened up the trunk to find the carpet very cool, as if it had recently been given a bath. We did have enough water to last us for our 3 hour hike though. I can't tell you how glad Ben and I were that we weren't the ones who put the lid on the pack.

Sunday was more of a travel day as we picked up Amy from the airport and headed to St. George, Utah, which has been our "home" for the past week. It's not a huge town but it is full of traffic circles, which I'm sure can confuse even the best drivers, not that that includes Ben. Needless to say, everyone in the car has to be paying attention when he's driving. I've also got it imprinted in my brain that Vegas is south and Zion is north. It's important for any backseat driver to pay attention to details I've found.

On Monday, we drove to Zion and hiked a portion of the Weeping Rock Trail and I'm sure took Hidden Canyon Trail up to the point of no return. There, we practiced our rappelling techniques, and got our bodies used to hiking in the heat of the day. We did have a good time, practicing 20 - 30 foot rappels until everyone in the group felt comfortable. That night, Robert, a friend of Ben's from work, made it in for three days of deliriously amazing canyoneering.

We started out fairly early on Tuesday and headed to Birch Canyon which has a 3B IV canyon rating, which means if you don't know what you're doing, stay out. According to the printed material we were going off of, it's 10 miles and takes about 12 hours. This is backcountry canyoneering but there have been several people who have gone through these canyons making notes and notating GPS coordinates. They also tell you what type of equipment you will need, different hazards, describe each rappel in detail, and tell you how and where to exit the canyon...it's kind of like a canyoneering for dummies book. I've got tons of pictures and videos and if you're interested let me know and I'll send you some. It's a pain to put pictures in a blog (I'm going to try a video or two on this one) so I'll have to figure out a better way to do it.

Birch Canyon has a total of 10 rappels and is one of Zion's many slot canyons. The only way to get down is by technical canyoneering. By definition, a canyoneer is "someone who hikes in canyons" but a technical canyoneer is one who "travels through canyons using technical rock-climbing techniques such as rappelling, belaying, and ascending or descending rock walls using rock climbing equipment and one who may also negotiate stretches of moving water by swimming or using floatation devices." That's me, I'm a technical canyoneer. Yahoo!

What is absolutely amazing about canyoneering is that the longer the rappel, the easier the start seems to be. We took some pretty wild photos of us looking like contortionists on 15 foot rappels and looking like professionals on 75 foot rappels. Downclimbing is another technique that we have worked on perfecting over the past several days. I've decided that as long as you don't think about "that rock fell from somewhere to get here for me to be able to climb on it" then you'll be fine. Otherwise, you're going to be overtaken by the fear that a rock the size of a bus could drop on your head at any moment, which is the real reality. The longest rappel on Birch is a 100 foot rappel from a tree anchor at the top of a bowl. There were also several 30 - 50 foot rappels. The ninth rappel is a 65 foot rappel that ends in a bowl. The instructions we printed off say..."Look up to view a large round boulder wedged in the tight canyon above and the light filtered through the twisted, sculpted rock. (See picture for proof that they were right on with this one.)

Ben said at one point while arguing with Amy about resetting the trip meter on the way to the trailhead, "I'm okay with the directions being as specific as they can". We could have used some more specific descriptions on Wednesday as we tried for almost four hours in the hot sun to locate the trailhead for Mystery Canyon. It's amazing the things that are obvious to you in hindsight. (More on Mystery Canyon and Pine Creek Canyon in a later blog, promise.)

For now, I'm going to leave you with a few funny clips (it makes me laugh at least) of me hiking up The Narrows, which is one of the most famous places at Zion. I went off on my own for a little while...I just couldn't resist; it was so pretty. I finally passed a group of kids headed back towards where Ang and Amy were waiting for me.

This was my message: "Can you please pass a message along for me? There are two girls waiting for me and I'm sure they're worried. One is in pink shorts and the other is in a blue shirt. Please tell them that I'm alive and I'm okay. And that I'll be 10 minutes behind you all, I can't be gone that long, they'd kill me." (This was what I decided I better do after they told me it was another 30 minutes just to get to the postcard views of The Narrows that I'd been seeing everywhere.)

This is the message that Ang and Amy got: "Hey ladies! We passed your friend and she's okay. She's headed upstream. She'll be about an hour before she gets back."

Amy & Angeliques' reaction to the message: "That wanker! How could she do that? And ladies??? We're not ladies! We're girls! That's it, we're outta here!"

What just happened: Message was LOST IN TRANSLATION!!! Am I EVER glad I didn't go much further!

After these are in, I'm headed to the pool. I've got some wicked tan lines from my camelbak and it's 12:30 pm and prime sunning time. I'm sure you understand...

Alive and Kickin'

2008-06-27T00:12:00.000-05:00

Just thought I would let you all know that I survived the weekend in Vegas and four days of canyoneering in Zion National Park. I've got tons of great pictures and even some videos. I'm posting this blog via cell phone but should be able to get to a computer on Saturday and tell you about my adventures this week. More from me very soon...

I Stop for Turtles, Frogs, Sticks, Big Leaves...and Hitchhikers

2008-06-18T18:12:00.047-05:00

Most of you might be wondering just how exciting a road trip from Pryor, Oklahoma, to Denver, Colorado, can be. Well, I'm telling you...with the right company, it can be absolutely outstanding! Now the title to this post might have you a little freaked out. Especially since most of you know I have occasionally stopped to pick up a hitchhiker or two. I actually didn't get the opportunity to pick up one because believe it or not, there weren't any. Actually, most of the road trip was a little...boring. Along the way, I was trying to figure out what about this portion of my adventure I was going to share with you. Then, I noticed something very strange, strange enough to make me stop on the highway, do a U-turn (I know, highly illegal, I'm sure) and go back to take pictures. Then, just like that! it hit me.

The following are funny, stupid, bizarre, and unusual signs and bumper stickers I saw along the way. I have also thrown in a few statistics that you will no doubt have no use for at any time during your lifetime. You might wonder how I managed to remember all these. Can you believe that my crafty little crackberry phone will let me leave myself a voice note? Ha! Problem solved...no driving 90 miles an hour, petting Hank, drinking water, and jotting down notes all at the same time for this safety girl! Unfortunately, I'm not sophisticated enough to upload my voice notes into youtube.com and add it to my blog (that was Julie's clever suggestion). So, I will translate...

Are you man enough to be a nurse? ~ billboard in Salina, Kansas

Steak sandwich $2.99 ~ advertisement for the Morrison Cafe, Morrison, Oklahoma (I'm not sure about you but I don't know if it's really a steak at that price.)

Arrest a Pest Extermination Company ~ on the side of a truck in Wichita, Kansas

This vehicle stops at all garage sales ~ bumper sticker (How long has this one been out?)

Number of dog tracks passed: 2

Say no to cheap freight ~ sign on the back of a semi-trailer

Number of big boy chimney cleaners in a tuxedo and top hat: 1 (Seriously, think big boy hamburgers.)

Number of Mary Kay PINK cars on the road: 1

Number of wrong turns: 3 (If my GPS had been working I'm sure there'd have been more.)

You'll like it. Try American Lamb ~ Small sign outside of Newton, Kansas (Is this supposed to be the other white meat?)

Number of carsick dogs and little girls: None! Yahoo!

Number of bad drivers on the road: Too many to count

I love my dog ~ bumper sticker (And no, it wasn't on my vehicle.)

Oz Museum ~ sign somewhere in Kansas, complete with the Tin Man, to think about it!

Beef. It's what's for dinner. ~ sign out in the middle of nowhere, Kansas

Free land for homes and businesses ~ sign in Lincoln County, Kansas (There's a reason why they're giving it away.)

Number of windmills: 22 (Oh never mind! Way too many to count after topping the hill.)

Next Mile Deer Crossing ~ Sign in western Kansas (Do they train them to only cross here?)

Number of dead deer within one mile of Next Mile Deer Crossing sign: 1 (They weren't kidding.)

Number of states with slow drivers represented on the road: 18

Number of vehicles that passed me on the road: 1 (And guess where they were from...Texas.)

Colby. Oasis on the plains. ~ Very large sign in western Kansas. (I drove through there. It didn't look like an oasis to me!)

Number of potty breaks: 6

Car insurance doesn't have to be a pain in the bumper. ~ Shelter Insurance billboard

If you die today, where will you spend eternity? ~ Billboard in Kansas (Definitely something to ponder about out on the open road.)

Choose life. Your parents did. ~ Sign in Hays, Kansas

See the world's largest prairie dog. Entrance 37 miles. ~ Sign along the road in Kansas. (I saw this place and it looked like something out of Deliverance...I didn't stop as tempting as it was.)

Taco John's: A fresh taste of West-Mex. ~Fast food joint in Colby, Kansas (What the heck is West-Mex??? Sounds very authentic to me.)

Rest area next exit, wireless internet ~ middle of nowhere, Kansas (People can get interest access out here and not in Strang, America?)

Cowgirls rule ~ bumper sticker

I stop for turtles, frogs, sticks, and big leaves ~ bumper sticker (I'm still not quite sure about that one, other than don't follow too close.)

And my personal favorite, a bumper sticker on the storage box on top of Amy's Tahoe (the amazing girl who found Hank a home)...
My Labrador Retriever is smarter than your honor student.

And last but not least, the reason for this unbelievably intelligent and witty dialogue (even I'm smiling now) which is located in Perry, Oklahoma. I got some sketchy information from my friend Marvin, whom I dropped in on at First Bank and Trust in Perry. Not directly on my way, but boy am I sure glad I stopped by to surprise him! Apparently there's a huge conspiracy in the seemingly pleasant and friendly Oklahoma countryside in Noble County. I think Marvin knows more than he's giving up...at least he looks pretty guilty in this picture. I'll let you decide...

Marvin and I had a great time hanging out in Perry. We ate lunch at the Kumback Cafe which recently celebrated it's 82nd year. I'll be in Colorado, or Cowowado as Hank calls it, until Friday evening when I'll head to the airport to meet Ben and Angelique in Sin City.

Hank is at this very moment meeting his new family and hopefully making a great impression. I sure hope they don't forget to shut the car door, well, maybe I do, then they'll have no choice but to take him home! He really is a good boy and a great traveling companion. Every so often he would sit up really straight and look around as if to say "Are we dare yet?" Then he'd lay back down and take another nap.

But for now, Julie and I are enjoying late night conversations, lots of laughs, and good clean fun. We have also been terrorizing the locals who frequent the Aurora Super Target and Cold Stone Creamery. See pictures for proof! I also took the time on Thursday to hit the road in the Cruiser and head to Edwards to visit my friend Jeremy. I caught up with him at work and he took a non-standard lunch break with me to ponder the meaning of life and get caught up. Just as a side note...I did drive by Frisco on the way. Gee, I really like that place...the mountains, a lake (which would be perfect for my 22' Catalina), and plenty of fun for pups and little girls. If I can only find five roommates I'll be there by next spring!

A Note from Hank

2008-06-12T02:13:00.012-05:00

Hank wanted to say a few words before we took off on our adventure...

Hewo! I just wanted to say bye bye to all my friends. My momma says dat she found me a weally nice famwe in Cawowado. I don't know where dat is but she says we are weaving tamawoah and I get to go in da VEEhicle! I WUV VEEhicles! My momma says I a pain cuz I won't stay outta dem. I can't help it wough. I just wuv to go! My momma says she hopes I get out at da west stops awong da way to go potty and not ho up in da VEEhicle wike I sometimes do. She gets funny wooking when dat happens and wells awot. I just smile so she wuvs me more. It's weally fun game.

I may be free years ode but I awready wived in two states. I weally hope dis is my wast one. I weally want to say fanks to da nice people at da Wocky Mountain Wab Wescue for finding me a home. I weally want my own famwe, dat's all us pups ever want, a famwe who will wuv us. I kinda sad bout weaving my brotters, Bones and Copper, but I not gonna miss dat silwe dog Boomer AT ALL! My momma says she weally gonna miss me but she soooo happy for me and dat I gonna wike Cawowado cuz Cowowado wikes pups wike me. Yahoo! Dats all I had to say. Oh oh oh! Don't forget about pups wike me when you are wooking for a new famwe member...wescue pups are da bestest!

Wuv,

Hank

P.S. My momma and me had wots of fun when I got on da bobcat. Especially since I taught it wuz a VEEhicle!

Weekend Mayhem

2008-06-09T10:20:00.001-05:00

Just when you think life at the lake is supposed to be peaceful and relaxing...wham! You take a couple of hits and you're left wondering how did this happen?

I was enjoying a rather uneventful weekend until a friend of mine called to see if I wanted to go wakeboarding. Of course, I'm generally up for that so I quickly said "Sure!" So I drove from Grand Lake where I was just about to put in my Seadoo, take a ride around, and stop off at one of my favorite establishments on the water, The Decks, for a club sandwich. But hey! Wakeboard? I'm all over it...

So, I pulled up and away from the boat ramp and headed back to Lake Hudson. Now, I'm no X Games wakeboarder, catching air still makes me a little uneasy but that night, I was in my groove...doin' my thing. I was even attributing my new found confidence to my recent snowboarding experience this winter, and was feeling pretty good about my abilities. The wind which had been blowing a constant 20 knots or so during the day had died down and the lake was getting about as close to glass as you can imagine. It was a beautiful evening at the lake.

I boarded for awhile, no real wipe outs, the ones that cause you to remember for the next week that water when you're traveling fast enough, can feel just like concrete on your skin. So, I left well enough alone and signaled to Ryan that I thought it was his turn to give it a go. And he did, a much more accomplished wakeboarder than me, jumping the wake the majority of the time, and skidding the board across the surface, something a little too nutty, even for me. And true to any kiddie sport, you take turns, and soon it was mine again. I'd done well for the first go around; I was even considering trying a few moves myself before I actually got up. I decided to play it safe though and just stuck to my normal routine.

But as they say, all good things must come to an end and after taking a pretty good tumble the first time back up, due to placing too much weight on my back leg, I was setting myself up for a nice crash. I got up, crossed the wake a few times, then cut back to the starboard side with a little too much weight on my front leg and toe pick! Just like they say in ice skating, and every one knows the consequences of that mistake...a face plant. The face plant isn't what hurt. As Ryan put it, "I didn't realize you were that flexible." Well, neither did I. The back of the board came up and caught me in the back of the head, just behind my ear. Fortunately, I wasn't knocked unconscious, I just knew that my head hurt and I could feel a divot. I was just about to get up and go again when I put my hand up to the point of contact to check one more time, to find blood on my fingers. So that was the end of wakeboarding on a beautiful, calm night on Lake Hudson.

Needless to say, it's going to leave a mark, a permanent one, although my dad, accompanied by Ryan, did a fine job of stitching me up. My poor dad, this is the second time in my life he's had to stitch me up. The first being a draw knife accident two years ago, which just like the traumatic events of Saturday night, could have left me in much worse shape. Just remember, like taking a picture of the Grand Canyon, my camera doesn't do my injury justice. It looks much worse in person. Of course, I wouldn't know that, as it's covered up with a band aid and behind my ear!

And if that wasn't enough excitement for one weekend, on Sunday morning, after a wonderful breakfast at Lake Hudson Inn, while I was sitting outside enjoying a fine conversation with a friend, my neighbor's dog and my foster child got into one of the biggest dog fights I've ever witnessed or participated. Now I've been around my fair share of dog fights, and I've been in the middle of more than I can count on one hand but to see two so very large dogs go at it was absolutely horrifying.

Boomer is a stout, young golden retriever, who weighs in at about 90 lbs and Hank, a yellow lab, who was given the nickname "Hank the Tank" by my friend Patrick, weighs in at a hefty 120 lbs (at least). I'm still not sure what the fight was about but neither one of them was about to concede to the other. Not that I gave them much of a choice because the minute I heard the conversation get out of control, I was there, leaving the phone "on hold" on a nearby table. As soon as I got there, they were in full swing, duking it out like real fighters. Soon, it was all three of us rolling around. As soon as I could get a good hold on one and pull him off, the other would come back with a vengeance. It's sad to say that I think I came out in worse shape than the two of them. Of course, they have much thicker skin and a lot more hair but I wasn't about to let them keep fighting. I finally got them separated but not before I took a couple of bites myself, one that took some skin off my arm, causing me once again to drive into Pryor to seek my father's help.

You can only imagine the look I got when I showed up with bloody clothes and presented my arm for inspection. Unlike the wakeboarding accident, there was no lecture, perhaps because he would have done the same. This time, steri strips in place of stitches, which at this point, appear to be doing the job. Although I'd like to say that I'm quite the body builder, I'm not, although my arm at least from my elbow down looks the part.

Just as a side note and as a reminder to me in the future, as frightened as I was, I can only imagine how my friend Trevor felt, as he was the one who had been put on hold only to listen to my screams and the dogs' growling and yelping. Not knowing what was really taking place as I just said "I'll be back" thinking it was just a little tiff that could easily be settled as in the past. So in the future, I will hang up the phone, so at least someone doesn't have to sit on the other end and listen in terror to unknown events.

I've been thinking about my upcoming adventures and hoping that my friends Ben and Angelique pack some suture kits along with the other medical necessities I know they'll have in tow. If not, I'm bringing my own because if this is what happens at Lake Hudson, I can't imagine the trouble I could get into hanging off a cliff.