Endings

“A man travels the world in search of what he needs and returns home to find it.” -George Moore
　
     Everything ends. Five months ago I sat in the terminal at LAX. Completely uncertain about what the next five months would bring, how I would react, who I would become because of it. I sit once again in the terminal at LAX. This time waiting to board a northbound flight. Not at all curious about what I’ll find once I land. It will all be familiar yet strangely foreign. A place I once knew, as though in a past life.

     The experiences I had will never be rivaled. From the clubs in Medellin, to staying in a penthouse apartment in Bogota, to living in the Upper Amazon with a shaman for a month, each day was a brand new adventure. The people I met along the way opened my mind to what life in all other corners of the world is like. There are good people all over. From different backgrounds, ethnicities, and social classes, kindness is a world-wide quality that everyone benefits from.

     To be honest, the people were the best part of the trip. You roll into a hostel, tired from the 20 hour bus ride you just endured, and your greeted by a group of travelers from Norway. Or a pair of girls from France. Or most likely a few solo Australians or Canadians or even Israelis. You share stories over a beer about where you’ve been, where you’re going, and any helpful tips you have to contribute to their travels. One beer turns into four and now you’re talking about your life back home. Or stories from earlier in the trip. Four beers turns into seven and now you have some brand new best friends. By the end of the stay, no matter if it’s a day or a week, I would always leave with the same offer, “If you’re ever in California you have a place to stay.” Most of the time they return the offer. Then the friendship solidified and you board another bus, to another town, to another hostel, to more friends.

     I urge all of you, if you have the opportunity, to travel abroad. I am lucky. I had no ropes tethering me anywhere. No relationships that couldn’t survive distance for five months, no job I wouldn’t be able to get again. I was gone for five months. 119 days. I managed to spend less than $5,000 on this trip which includes my flights and the issue with my passport at the beginning. I stayed in group dorms in hostels, ate at cheaper establishments, and took buses over planes and loved every minute of it. Overall I logged about 5,500 miles on buses. I saw the world. I saw wealth. I saw poverty. I even saw both of them existing a few feet from each other. And I learned. I learned about the important things and the insignificance of so much we hold dear. I hope to hold onto these lessons as I return to a culture that gets confused with materialism and superficiality.

     I was sitting here getting lost in memories when the woman next to me brought reality crashing down upon me. She’s one of those loud phone talkers and she’s lecturing her friend about what sort of topic is appropriate to discuss in a mass-text. I did not miss people like this. It is time to board the plane now, and by the time I post this I will be safely back in northern California to see my family and friends. Thanks to all of you have followed along, all of you I met along this journey, all who helped me along the way, and all of you who I have to come back to. I’ll resume this blog again for my next adventure, and trust me there will be more. Since I have started every post with a quote, I feel like it would be fitting to end the final post with one. From the late great Louis Armstrong, “And I think to myself, what a wonderful world”.



The Home Stretch

“Everyday you may make progress.  Every step may be fruitful.  Yet there will stretch out before you an ever-lengthening, ever-ascending, ever-improving path.  You know you will never get to the end of the journey.  But this, so far from discouraging, only adds to the joy and glory of the climb.”  -Winston Churchill


     Hello world.  It’s been a short while since I gave the ol’ blog a new story so I had to change that.  I think I last left off telling you all that I had just arrived back in Mancora to begin volunteering at the hostel.  Well, I am still here and life is still sweet.  This post will lack tales of great adventure but hopefully you will get an idea of what my day to day life is like.  I typically work 3-4 days a week behind the bar.  Bartending at the hostel is great fun as it supplies you with an easy way to meet the continuous flow of travelers.  We have activities every afternoon to try and get more people involved, and each night there are drinking games, karaoke, or themed parties.  Last night I sang a very horrible rendition of “How Do I Live?” by Leann Rimes.  It’s amazing how ridiculous one can act when you have no shame.  Last Saturday we had a pirate themed party, which I bartended dressed as a Somalian pirate.  The week before was an ABC (anything but clothes) party.  Bring out the bed sheets and plastic bags!


     Volunteering here definitely has its perks.  I get to stay for free, get free breakfast, one additional free meal, and my 3rd meal is discounted at 40%.  Down time is plentiful.  The hostel has a pool, which is often murky, restaurant, bar, a few hammocks, and its own private beach which supplies some of the best sunsets you will ever see.  I fill my days with naps, reading, and conversing with fellow travelers.


     I think this will be my second to last post.  I will leave Mancora on May 3rd and once again make the 20+ hour bus ride to Lima, where I fly home from on May 6th.  Looking at a map I haven’t covered the ground I wanted to in my 5 months down here but where ever I was is where I was supposed to be.  I wouldn’t trade any of these experiences.  


     I have been trying to connect with life back in the states more in hopes to avoid culture shock upon my return, but most of it is a distant memory.  I left as a wide-eyed wanderer and will return as a long hair and bearded drifter that suddenly needs to find a job.  I think learning to live with my feet on the ground after flying for 5 months will be the greatest challenge.  I also really look forward to shaving this beard off.  I told a lot of friends that I would keep it the entire time I was in South America and I must say, I’m sick of it.  Food gets stuck in it, bugs fly into it, sand finds its way in it, and apart from instantly being qualified for 4 roles in any nativity play I don’t see much use for it.  Ditching the beard and In-N-Out Burger are two huge perks of returning home (behind family and friends of course).  I’ll wrap up this post now.  I had a long night last night and consumed a few more drinks than I should have so I reckon I’ll take a nap.  You will here from me again either just before I depart or shortly after I arrive in California.  Ciao!

Huacachina

“There are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind.” -C.S. Lewis


     About two hours north of Nazca is the desert oasis town of Huacachina.  Basically consisting of Hostels, restaurants, internet cafes, and travel agencies built around a lagoon, this small piece of paradise is a must-see for any backpacker.  Gigantic sand dunes surround the lagoon from all sides and miles of desert disappear into the horizon.  The major city near Huacachina is Ica, which is one of the driest places on Earth.
     I arrived the Friday before Easter which made finding a room anything but easy.  After being quoted on a few that were well out of my budget I finally found a reasonably priced 18-bed dormitory.  I was able to grab a quick bite, take a dip in the pool, and then begin my climb of a massive sand dune in time to watch the sunset over the desert.
     I’ve probably said this before but one of the greatest parts of traveling are the people you meet.  That night I found myself at a table playing King’s Cup (a drinking game involving cards and wacky rules) with people from The States, Holland, Australia, England, Scotland, and Canada.  Someone had the brilliant idea to make a rule that forced everyone to try and talk like the person to their left.  Needless to say the rest of the game was very entertaining.
     The next day was spent exploring the town a bit more and relaxing poolside.  I had booked a sand tour for that evening.  One hour for 40 soles ($16).  The tour was much more of a rush than I had anticipated.  You and about 9 others cram into a buggy and are driven up and over dunes, dropping quickly down the other side, taking sharp turns and going up more.  Twice the buggy stopped at the top and we all got out and sand boarded down.  I assumed sand boarding would be a lot like snow boarding, which I have never done.  Instead, you lay on your stomach with the board underneath you and start sliding down the dune.  This ground level view of the rapidly approaching desert floor really gets the adrenaline pumping.  The last dune was so high and the descent so rapid that my ear popped on the way down, the same as when you land in an airplane.
     Easter morning arrived and my time in Huacachina came to a close.  I boarded a bus to Lima (4 hours) then found another bus that would take me back to Mancora (20 hours).  I am in Mancora now, back at the hostel I spent a week in when I first arrived in Peru.  I have about 23 days left in South America and will spend almost all of it volunteering at the hostel.  Basically I work 15-20 hours a week in the bar but I get to stay for free and get 2 free meals.  I know that the blog has been lacking some excitement in my latest posts so I will do my best to throw myself in dangerous situations and add some flare to it.  Also, I have finally uploaded pictures from the last few months.  I hope everything is great in you’re part of the world. Until next time, Ciao!

Nazca Lines

“An optimist is a guy that has never had much experience.” -Don Marquis

     I had no idea that the most exciting part of the next 24 hours or so would be the bus ride from Puno to Arequipa.  While our 2 story bus weaved through the Andes we suddenly found ourselves in the midst of an ice storm.  Soon after, all the windows fogged up and for the next 20 minutes we sat, basically in the dark, as the bus slid around corners.  Eventually I made it Arequipa and found another bus for Nazca.
     The only tourist draw Nazca has is the Nazca lines.  Nine giant images carved into the desert ground. The images are so big that they can only really be appreciated from great heights.  It wasn’t until 1940 when Paul Kosok, who was in the area studying ancient irrigation systems, flew over the lines and realized they weren’t for irrigation at all.  Though the purpose for the lines is not completely known, it put Nazca on the map.
     I arrived in Nazca at 4.15 am.  The bus I was on was continuing to Lima and I was the only person getting off at Nazca.  No sooner had I bent down to pick up my bag when a car jetted around the corner and screeched to a halt next to me.  A man got out and started rambling off facts about his hostel.  I had already booked a room at a hostel but I wasn’t sure if they would have anyone to let me in at that ungodly hour.  I realize this wasn’t the best idea but I allowed the guy to take me to my hostel anyways.  The whole ride over he was trying to get me to commit to doing the air tour of the lines with his company.
     Turns out no one was awake to let me in the hostel and after the guy continued on about how every hostel in the city was full but he could offer me a sofa and place to store my bags until my hostel opened I finally gave in.  He charged me 10 soles ($4) to crash on his “sofa” which was really just like a wicker love seat.  I don’t think I ever fell asleep and by the time the sun was up I grabbed my bag and left.
     I had made plans to meet up with a 19-year-old girl from Holland that was on my Machu Picchu trek but she wouldn’t arrive until early evening.  Neither of us had the budget to afford a flight over the lines so I decided I would wait until she was there to go to the observation tower, which gives a decent view of two of the symbols.  This gave me a whole day to kill in Nazca, something that sounds easier than it actually is.  Nazca has very little to offer.  If it weren’t for all the gravity and oxygen you might even think you managed to land on the moon.  Dirt and rocks cover the otherwise flat landscape.  I walked around the town, ate some lunch, and poked around a few shops and that still left me with about 6 hours to go.  Movies and naps are my go to time killers.
     Long story short, we went to the observation tower the next day and were thoroughly disappointed.  Maybe if you do the proper tour in a plane the lines may be more impressive but from the lookout tower the lines looked… fake.  I had seen hundreds of pictures of Machu Picchu before I visited and was still blown away.  When it comes to the Nazca lines, pictures were enough.

Puno

“Age is how we determine how valuable you are.” -Jane Elliot

     From Cuzco I traveled 6 hours southeast to the town of Puno.  Puno is known as the folkloric capital of Peru because of it’s years of dedication to the arts, particularly dance, and like most South American cities I have traveled to there are an abundance of handcrafts for sale just about everywhere.  The town itself is nothing special and I only stayed there for a day.

     Puno is located on Lake Titicaca which is the largest lake in South America and at 12,500 feet one of the highest in the world.  The main reason tourists go to Puno is to tour the Floating Islands.  The islands are made of plants, mud, and bits of drift wood.  The Uro people have lived on the islands for generations and originally the islands mobility made them useful if threat arose.  Tours of the islands are generally not well received by tourists.  I have yet to meet one that said they enjoyed it.  Most of the people on all the islands pressure you into buying crafts or just giving them money, and since they are the guides of your boat you have little choice.

     Between the even higher altitude and very cold weather I didn’t explore much of the city.  I went to the main plaza and surrounding area and even tried some Chinese food for the first time since being down here.  For 5 soles ($2) I had a huge plate of mostly chicken, rice, sautéed veggies, and cut up hot dogs.  Not what I was expecting but anything is great for $2.  The rest of the day was spent hanging around the hostel talking with two Australian girls who were planning their trip to Machu Picchu and an American who ended up accompanying me West the following day.  I took a 6 hour bus to Arequipa and then a 10 hour bus to my destination, Nazca.

Cuzco

“The worst thing about new books is that they keep us from reading the old ones.” -John Wooden


     I like to think of my time in Cuzco as a game of two halves, with a very long halftime.  Rather than a tale of two cities, it’s a tale of the same city…twice.  I arrived in Cuzco on the 25th of March.  The 23 hours bus ride paired with the altitude made my arrival less than pleasant.  I had been at sea level for almost the entirety of the last 7 weeks, except for a few days in Vilcabamba, Ecuador.  Altitude sickness is no joke.  The rapid ascent from sea level to 11,200 feet left me dizzy, tired, dehydrated, and with a terrible headache.  Upon my arrival I said a quick hello to Jackie’s family before downing some coca tea (supposed to help with altitude sickness) and then doing some extreme napping for four hours.  I awoke feeling, at least functional, and was ready to explore the city.
     Cuzco was the capital city of the Incan Empire until the Spanish took it over in 1534.  Though most of the architecture is Spanish, there is still a large tribute to the Incan civilization.  The city has about 300,000 residents but receives close to 2 million visitors a year.  Most of the people, like myself, make it a starting point for Machu Picchu.  In 2010 heavy rains caused the site to close for 2 months which lost Cuzco between an estimated $200-$400 million in tourist revenue.  Lucky for us that wasn’t the case, and we left the city for our four day trek.
     The return to Cuzco was much appreciated, as it supplied me with the opportunity to sleep in and have a warm shower, two things I had been neglected for four days.  Also, now fully adjusted to the altitude, I saw the city in a new light.  The Plaza De Armas is massive and is the hub for most tourists.  Surrounded by shops and restaurants (even a Starbucks and KFC) it also has a huge statue/fountain in the center and not one but TWO giant churches.  Most hotels and hostels are within a few blocks of the plaza.  A side note: Jack’s Café, about 2 blocks East, has the best BLT I have ever tasted.  I made sure by eating 3 of them.  I even found a pub that was showing the Final Four games.
     My last two days in Cuzco were spent doing much of the same, eating.  Because of so many tourists, Cuzco has just about every kind of food you could want.  It had been a long while since I had indulged in decent Mexican food but I found my fix.  My last full day I decided to walk to the bus station, roughly 3 km away, to get a ticket to Puno the next morning.  Getting out of the tourist district I was able to see a brand new side of Cuzco.  Like most South American cities it had small restaurants, bakeries, and general stores.  It was also nice to not be hounded by someone trying to sell me something I had no use for (the guys that sell sunglasses are relentless).
     I made it back with plenty of time to spare before the national championship.  I was met at the pub by two Americans that were on the trekking group with me and we did our best to support Kansas.  Luckily, the game coincided with happy hour, and the way it played out the drinks were much appreciated.  The following morning I left Cuzco for the second time.  This time with no return visit on the horizon.
     I am going to be doing a lot of hopping around in the next few days so I'll try and keep the blog as up-to-date as possible.

Machu Picchu

“The whole history of civilization is strewn with creeds and institutions that were invaluable at first, and deadly afterwards.” -Walter Bagehot

     Just a forewarning, this will be a very long post.  Unplug the phone, make yourself a sandwich and get comfortable.  In this blog entry I will go into detail about my 4 day trek through the Andes which ended at Machu Picchu.
     A little background first on Machu Picchu.  The city was built in the mid 15th century by the Incas but abandoned just 100 years later due to the Spanish conquest.  It is believed that a majority of the inhabitants died from smallpox.  The Spanish did their best to destroy much of the Inca empire but for some reason they left the city untouched.  Our trek began at 7 am on Tuesday morning and would last 4 days ending at one of the Seven Wonders of the World.

Day 1
     Rain. We boarded a bus Tuesday morning with 11 other tourists and 2 guides, drove two hours past the town of Quillabamba to an elevation of 4,350 meters (14,270 feet) and began our 60 km bike ride through the Andes.  The ride was basically all downhill and the wind and rain made sure we were all wide awake.  Hands frozen, eyes squinting through the rain, we careened down mountains, through small towns, and even through a few streams, which splashed up at us drenching the only remaining dry part.  After 3 hours and the most amazing views of mountains and valleys, our group arrived damp and covered in mud and smiles ready for lunch.  After lunch we grabbed our bags and began the hike to our camp for night number 1.  My only pair of shoes were completely soaked so I did the afternoon hike in flip flops.  We arrived at our first “hostel” at about 5.00pm.  It was located on the side of a mountain and offered amazing views.  It was basically a family farm and they had an extra cabin built with around 10 beds jammed inside.  We hung our clothes, had dinner, and were in bed by 9.

Day 2
     By some miracle, my shoes had dried overnight.  We woke at 7 am and were on the trail by 8.  The first 20-30 minutes were steep.  Passing through highly vegetated areas and breaking a sweat before 8.30 is not how I am used to starting my days.  I don’t know a proper training regimen for uphill treks at high altitude, but I would not recommend spending the 7 weeks leading up to it at sea level drinking significant amounts of beer and eating fried food (I dealt with altitude sickness the first two days in Cuzco but luckily was back in action by the start of the hike).
     Eventually we broke through the brush and had wide open views of the surrounding mountains, the valley below, and river snaking through it all.  We continued.  At times the path got so narrow it was impossible not to look down into the valley.
     Onward we walked, finally ending at a small secluded restaurant for lunch.  After a solid meal and quick power nap in a hammock it was back on the trail.  Finally we had made it down to the river, crossing about six streams on the way.  The walk through the valley was unbelievable.  The mountains surround you and reach so high they seem to close around you.  We ended up crossing the river 2 times, once by zip line and once by bridge.  An old rickety bridge like in Indiana Jones.  I began thinking that the trip was well worth the price of admission even without Machu Picchu because the scenery was some of the most beautiful I had ever seen.
     The day came to a close at some natural hot springs.  It felt wonderful to soak in the water and share some friendly conversation with the fellow trekkers.  Our group was 17 people, the majority of them around my age.  After a lengthy soak we took a short 40 minute walk into the town of Santa Teresa, where our hostel was.
     Our guide made the mistake of telling us that there was a “discoteca” (dance bar) in town.  You can’t expect fifteen 20-somethings who just became friends to “take it easy” with a bar just one street over.  We took the place by storm and paid the price the next day.

Day 3
     Some of us woke up at 7 am, others were still awake from the night before.  Needless to say the next morning was a struggle. We ate breakfast and then headed out in the vans for a short 20 minute drive to the place we would begin the day.  The third day had a little added thrill to it.  We began our trek not with a hike but with zip lining.  A total of 6 zip lines to be exact.  The highest was 400 meters above the ground and the fastest went 70 km/hour.  That took the majority of the morning and we only had a short hike after that until lunch.
     Just before we headed out after lunch the rain came.  We quickly covered our packs, put on ponchos and set out.  The next 2 hours or so we walked in silence.  Most of us still too tired from the previous night and now battling the added annoyance of mother nature.  Finally, we arrived soaked and tired in Aguas Calientes.  Again we went through the usual ritual of hanging up all our wet clothes, which was almost everything, and then heading to dinner.  After dinner almost everyone went straight to bed.  After all, tomorrow would be a big day.

Day 4
     We woke up at 4 am.  I put on the driest clothes I had, none of which were completely dry, and we were on the trail by 4.45 am.  Machu Picchu opens at 6 am so we had a little over an hour to climb about 1,300 feet.  The way up is entirely stairs.  It was the most tiring thing I have ever done hands down.  For an hour I walked up stairs, legs burning, not daring to look up.  Up and up I went, my lungs never seeming to get enough air with each breathe.  I didn’t dare stop thinking it would be too hard to start again.  Sweat dripped down my face and off the tip of my nose.  The sun slowly came up, lighting the ground in front of me, but the clouds and mist made the top invisible.  Thinking it was still just out of site I powered on.  Lungs and legs burning, shirt completely soaked, I reached the top and slowly lifted my eyes.
     The bus stop at the top of entrance to the Machu Picchu is hardly the reward I was expecting for climbing what felt like a billion steps.  Needless to say it provided a bench for me to sit while I waited for the rest of the group.  Finally we were all accounted for and joined the queue outside.  The people from the buses all looked well rested and excited, our excitement was hidden behind exhaustion but just as prevalent none the less.
     We entered Machu Picchu early so the mist was still hanging around, hiding Huayna Picchu from view.  We had around a 2 hour tour, which was torture.  I think we all just wanted to explore the place on our own.  The tour ended around 9.30 am.
     If you look at most pictures of Machu Picchu there are the ruins in the foreground and two mountains in the back.  The taller one is Huayna Picchu.  It was used for military purposes by the Incas.  They only allow 400 people to climb it each day.  16 of the 17 people in our group had pre-purchased tickets to climb it but, for some, the first climb was too much and they opted out of Huayna Picchu.  I went with 4 others and we climbed another 1,000 feet only to be greeted by the most amazing view of Machu Picchu below.  Just as we got to the top it started to rain, which made the way down somewhat dangerous.  We finished the hike and got a few last pictures in the city before leaving and taking the bus back to Aguas Caliente.
     By this time I had no dry shirts left.  I changed into the driest shorts I had and then walked through town without a shirt on, went into the first store I came to, and made a quick purchase.  It felt fantastic to have a dry shirt on again.
     Everything ends.  We took a train about an hour or so to Ollanta and then a bus back to Cuzco.  Finally getting to the hostel around 11 pm.  It had been a trip of a lifetime but all we really needed and wanted now was sleep.  One down, six to go.

Time

“Time stays, we go.” -HL Mencken

     Currently I am sitting on a 21 hour bus ride from Lima to Cuzco so I thought I would take a little time to update the blog.  We left Mancora and decided to go directly to Lima rather than split up the drive because of reports of riots that had made travel time double around the country.  We had no such problem and made the trip in the usual 20 hours.  Some buses in Peru are double deckers and we scored seats right at the front of the top row.  Talk about living like a king!  We had an unobstructed view of everything happening in front of us.  As much as I can gather about Peru, the entire West coast is desert.  Vast nothingness for miles on end with the occasional town popping up.
     Finally we arrived in Lima.  From what I had read, Lima was nothing to look forward too.  From what I saw it was a south American version of Los Angeles.  Dry and barren mountains surround the city save for one side where the Pacific Ocean sits.  The streets are clean and most buildings very modern with upscale restaurants and bars all around.  We stayed in the Miraflores district, which is apparently very trendy and fashionable.  Upon checking into the hostel we asked where a few good restaurants were.  The lady at reception listed a few before pausing and saying there is also a store that sells brand name clothes not too far from the hostel.  Apparently my sap stained shirt, pair of basketball shorts, and 4 month old Amish looking beard repulsed her.
     The girls were placed in an all girls dorm and since space was limited I was placed upstairs in the volunteers dorm.  We only stayed one night because the following day Jackie’s family was flying in.  They arrived late on Friday and I found the most American meal I could for them (and me). Domino’s Pizza.
     Jackie and her family will fly to Cuzco tomorrow (Sunday) morning, while Angelica and myself took the more economically friendly 21 hour bus ride.  It is Saturday.
     Everything ends.  Well everything except time.  Time a permanent vehicle that links everything in the universe.  Do you ever get those moments when you wonder what another person in another part of the world is doing at this very moment?  It is Saturday.  A week ago today, at about 3.30 am in Mancora, Peru, the night of St. Patty’s day, I was lying awake in bed because my stomach was upset. Probably from something I ate.  Thousands of miles away my grandmother was taking her last breathe.  Now I am on a bus in southern Peru, while the rest of my family has gathered in Burbank, California to attend her service.  Such a strange sensation it is to not be with my family, especially my mom and aunt, to pay our last respects to mine and my brother’s last remaining grandparent.
     I had the intention of making this post some sort of tribute to her, but to be honest my mind is moving too fast to organize my thoughts.  On this trip I have been exposed to a lot of references to universal energy.  Feeling it or sensing it in some way.  Redistributing it.  Harnessing it.  I wonder if I focus my mind hard enough on my family back in California so that some part of me will be present at the service…

Peru!

“There never seems to be enough time to do the things you wanna do once you find them.” -Jim Croce

     Everything ends, my time in Ecuador included.  When I first arrived and received that 90-day stamp on my passport it never crossed my mind that I would use just about every one of those 90 days.  I had planned to go to Bolivia and even Chile for a little after Peru, but Ecuador reeled me in.  Such a small country, roughly the size of Nevada, but it has it all (jungle, mountains, desert, beach).  A country where 45% of the population live below the poverty line yet everyone seems to be smiling.

     The last few days were spent either on a bus or hiking in the small town of Vilcabamba.  Nicknamed The Valley of Longevity because it’s inhabitants often reach the age of 100 with some claiming to be 130 and above, it is a small and quiet tourist hotspot. Whether or not the residents actually live longer in Vilcabamba is a judgment call, but there did seem to be a certain magic about the place.

     After getting up at 4.30 am to board a bus for Peru, getting exit and entrance stamps at the border, and spending an additional 9 hours on buses, I arrived tired and thirsty at the hostel in Mancora, Peru, plopped myself down at the bar, and took advantage of happy hour.  The hostel is located right on the beach but also has a pool, bar, restaurant, and very fun clientele.  Unfortunately, I came down with a stomach bug on St. Patty’s Day and made countless trips from my bed to the bathroom while I could hear the party raging along below.  As luck would have it, I found a way to stream the NCAA tournament on my computer to keep my busy while under the weather, but today I am back to normal and was able to stomach a cheeseburger (still eating healthy, mom).

     From here, we travel south to Lima (about 18 hours by bus), where we will meet Jackie’s family who is flying down to do Machu Picchu with us.  Jackie will fly with her family from Lima to Cusco and Angelica and myself will take the cheaper route, a 20 hour bus ride.  I will be sure to have the iPod fully charged for that trip.  For now though we sit stationary on the north coast of Peru, soaking up the sun before heading south.  While I enjoyed Ecuador, much more than expected, it’s time to move forward and see what Peru has to teach me.

The hostel in Mancora

Church in the plaza at Vilcabamba

Story Time

“We wander for distraction, we travel for fulfillment.” -Hilaire Belloc    

     Well, my time in Bahia finally came to a close and I said my goodbyes to the life I had established in that town.  One last meal at my favorite empanada stand, one last swim in the ocean, and one last night drinking beer around the table chatting about whatever the wind blew our way.  Yeah, the last month had been good to me, but as with everything, it had to end.  The girls came out to Bahia for my final two nights and it was good to see their smiling faces and catch up on the last month of our lives.
     I was able to persuade them to make our next stop Puerto Lopez, my second favorite town on the coast.  Here we are, staying in the same hostel I was in a little over a month ago, and life is just as sweet.  Of all the new things I’ve experienced on this trip, the new people I’ve met, the places I’ve been, I don’t think I will find much that I enjoy as much as sitting and watching the sun stain the sky pink while it sinks into the ocean.
     I don’t think we have the next step of this journey planned yet, or maybe the girls have that figured out already, I don’t know.  What I do know is that we have ten days to get ourselves out of Ecuador and into Peru (our visa expires March 17th).
     Temporarily stationary, I find my mind wandering back on the last three months of my life.  The lessons I could only learn from this trip, and the self discovery you go through without even intending on it.  I was talking to my mom a few weeks back, when I was still volunteering at the hostel, and I told her that the fulfillment one gets from traveling is broken down into three parts: 5% self discovery, 15% new culture, and 80% the people you meet.  As a peer helper in high school we were taught to appreciate the saying “How can you judge someone if you haven’t heard their story?”  So true I have found those words.  Everyone has a story, not everyone’s story sticks with you as time passes.
     I look back at my story, making mental cliff notes for the next person who asks, and I have to say it’s pretty much perfect.  Not in the arrogant way of my whole life has been cars and money and whatever I want I get, not in the way that my story is better than yours, not even in the way of when I tell my story to people they will envy it, but in the way that whatever it was that lead up to this point in my life, it was plenty good enough for me to still have a smile on my face.  Perfect.  If I’m the main character then I have had one hell of a supporting cast up to this point.  It’s had ups and downs, twists and turns, just like anything you would read by Dickens, Twain, or Shakespeare.  How can anything be so bad if you still slap that smile on your face.  I have no idea what the future will hold, for any of us, I’ll just try and enjoy the ride.  Sooner or later the sun sets on everything only to rise again.  Sooner or later the plot will thicken.

Through My American Eyes

“At least I have the modesty to admit that lack of modesty is one of my failings.” -Hector Berlioz



     Well, Carnival has come and gone, and so have a few thousand people.  This quiet little beach town turned into a loud, crowded, and dirty tourist hotspot for about 4 days.  The beaches, once practically empty, became impossible to find a small piece of sand to lay your belongings.  All hostels and hotels were at maximum capacity, which made my job very easy (“No hay habitaciones, amigo”).  We had a pretty good group of travelers staying here for the weekend, which made the experience a little more fun.  Four Chilean’s, an American, a girl from Holland, and myself spent our afternoons enjoying adult beverages at the hostel then going to concerts on the beach in the evening.

     The weekend ended way to soon, as weekends tend to do, and almost immediately the town once again the slow-paced city by the bay that I was missing.  The beach was mine once again, the hostel cleared out, and prices were returned to normal.  Life is overly simple once more.  I spend my days reading, going to the beach, growing my beard, and talking to travelers.  That’s the best part of living long term in a hostel.  While it isn’t the greatest saying goodbye to people all the time, you do have a constant flow of new and interesting people coming into your life.  Everyone has a story, and most of them are worth listening to.

     I am about halfway through this adventure and found myself reflecting on all of the other day.  My views on the world have certainly been reshaped.  Before I came down here, and even a month or so into the trip, I looked at life in the states as “the way it should be” and compared everything that was different to life back home.  Almost as if I thought they got this or that wrong.  Typical American arrogance I guess.  Now I view the way of life both here AND in the states as a way it could be but not the way it should be.  There is no right or wrong culture, no better or worse.  It also gets depressing to see some people cringe when you tell them you are American.

     American’s have a terrible reputation with travelers.  We tend to complain a lot, don’t embrace other cultures, and have a very elitist attitude over people from other countries.  Something I have learned about us that never seems to be said, we are soft.  Not all of us, but enough.  I used to pride myself on my 60 hour work weeks.  I worked for what I had.  I complained when I worked too much, but really what did my work entail?  Most of it was involved around watching sports, or walking around a restaurant cleaning tables.  And it supplied me with more than enough income.  I went to bars, spent money on food that sometimes would go bad before I got around to eat it, wasted gas, water, and electricity out of laziness, bought things I didn’t NEED (a lot of things), paid rent and bills, and still have enough to save about $500 a month that eventually led to this trip.  Sure I “earned” the money, but people elsewhere work a whole hell of a lot harder for less, but complain a whole lot less as well.  They don’t have cars, don’t go out to eat a lot, and get the most out of all they have.  And they are happier.  I remember when our dryer went out at home and we had to hang our clothes. I thought it was such an inconvenience.  No one uses dryers down here.  And they are happier.

     This is not an attack on my homeland.  I love America and wouldn’t want to be from anywhere else.  The 4th of July is my favorite holiday.  I guess this is more of a call to action.  We aren’t better than anyone else, and even if you believe we are don’t look down on every other country and culture.  Nothing is ever wrong with humbleness, and maybe over time, the rest of the world won’t hate us.  Maybe.

     On a very different note, I just want to offer my congratulations to the Sonoma State Men's basketball team, who will be hosting their first ever home playoff game on Tuesday.  And a very contradicting spin, congratulations to Jake Lovisolo on his CCAA regular season championship with Chico State.

     I will be staying here for another week or so then back on the road. Unless something exciting happens I probably won't post again until I leave, but exciting things rarely happen here. And that's just fine.

John's Story

“Liberty cannot be preserved without a general knowledge among the people.” -John Adams


     What can I say, I love my life right now.  I spend most time in the ocean, sipping on beer, and meeting the most interesting people.
     One such man is John, and John deserves to have his story shared.  For safety reason’s his name has been changed and where he is from will be with held in the telling of this story, and I hope at the end you understand why.  The only reason I am sharing any of this with you is because I was given the go ahead from John.  Since his knowledge is far superior to my own, this will be a simplified version.
     John is a doctor of sorts but he uses all natural healing.  He has multiple doctorates (the first was achieved when he was 18) and when I jokingly said “I guess one isn’t enough.”  he laughed and replied “everyone needs a hobby, right?”  
     Knowledge just spills from his mouth at high speed.  He wrings his hands a lot when he talks and has a pretty severe stutter, as though he is trying to get the words out all at once.  Most of this he attributes to a brain injury he suffered a while back. More on that in a bit.
     This story, well my part of the story, begins a few nights back.  Myself, John, and Trevor (a Canadian man in his 40s) were sitting out in front of the hostel shooting the breeze.  John had just diagnosed another tenant with a fungal infection simply by looking at his skin.  Trevor and I were in a bit of disbelief and it must have shown on our faces because John just laughed at us.  He then turned his attention to Trevor.  From a small bump on his forehead he was able to name symptoms Trevor had been experiencing for the passed few months, including depression.  Trevor, slightly stunned, confirmed John’s diagnosis and said he had recently stopped taking his antidepressants just before coming down here.  John questioned Trevor as to how long he had been on them, and when he got the response he stated, “Oh, so you probably haven’t been able to tolerate the smell of gasoline.”
     Trevor, with a stunned look on his face said that for the passed few weeks he couldn’t stand being around the stuff.  I was hooked.  From that moment on I knew that John was the real deal.  He wasn’t just blowing smoke like some other people I have met.  Then John preceded to tell us the most amazing life story I have ever heard.
     Like I said, John uses all natural medicines.  Things that are found in the Earth.  Not so much plants but he lists dozens of elements and combinations that will cure different ailments and diseases.  He knows how to beat cancer, autism, and AIDS.  AIDS was the first one he found a cure to and just before publishing his works his life would be changed forever.
     John’s solution to AIDS was simple, and very affordable.  It would have cost the drug companies just about everything had word gotten out.  The night he completed his “recipe” he and his then pregnant wife went out to dinner to celebrate.  There was an attempt on John’s life, most likely linked to the drug companies, that left him in a coma.  Worst than that, his wife and unborn child were killed.  I realize this sounds like some sort of novel and nearly impossible to believe but I watched this man breakdown and cry as he talked about it.  Trevor and I didn’t dare ask what happened exactly.
     Needless to say, John never published his works.  He travels the world, spent most of his time in Africa, as a sort of renegade doctor.  He charges very little, and sometimes nothing.  His only goal is to help people but fear has crippled his practice and now he travels, only curing small amounts of people at a time.
     He went on to tell how greed and a hunger for power are mankind’s biggest flaws and have been for sometime but he looked at us and said, very clearly, “Love will set us free.”  Here was a man who had basically solved our biggest problem’s and because of this lost his wife and any hope happiness, and still believed in the power of love.
     I realize, after reading this, that this story doesn’t carry a fraction of the weight it had when I first heard it.  It could be that my concentration was elsewhere, or maybe the whiskey coke next to me that is now almost finished (don’t judge, it helped Hemingway), but I assure this was THE most powerful story I have ever heard.

     In a not so smooth transition, a Canadian couple has arrived to rent the business from Susie for 6 months so we have been showing them the ropes.  Carnival starts this weekend and already safety has been an issue.  Two Argentinean girls who checked into the hostel today (both very good looking) were robbed just as I finished writing this blog.  We are currently waiting for the police to show up so they can file a report.  Don’t worry mom, I will be safe.  I will post again after carnival and let you know how it all went.  I hope things in your part of the world are wonderful!

Carrying A Smile

“When a baby comes into the world, its hands are clenched. Why? Because a baby, not knowing any better, wants to grab everything, to say, ‘The whole world is mine.’  But when an old person dies, how does he do so? With his hands open. Why? Because he has learned the lesson. We can take nothing with us.”  -Albert Lewis

     Let’s see, where to begin?  If you stay anywhere too long, whether you think you like it or hate it, no matter if you meant to end up there or if you thought you were just passing through, that place begins to feel normal.  It begins to feel like home. You’re world has shape again.  I already have my favorite hangouts, eateries, beaches, and most importantly… I’ve met plenty of people around town.  It’s nice walking around town and receiving a friendly “buenos dias” from someone you met the previous day.
     Work at the hostel isn’t really work at all.  I keep the lobby tidy, show people to their rooms, but generally I hangout with tenants and talk about where we have been, where we want to go, and our lives back home.  Travelers share whatever helpful info they have about previous destinations and most people are generally on the edge of their seat when I explain what my month in the jungle was like as well as my Ayahuasca experience.
     The hostel is ran by an Australian woman named Susie.  She came out here 6 years ago after the passing of her husband and bought a large house to transform it into a hostel.  Very recently she built a house not far from town.  It sits on a cliff with the most amazing views of the ocean.  I can’t give you a square footage or anything but I will tell you that is a very nice house.  It cost a grand total of $25,000 to build and she has to pay a whopping $4 a year in taxes.
     I know I have mentioned how cheap everything is down here but I will give you a rundown of what I spend on what.  The other day I bought a liter of coca cola and a bottle of pretty decent rum.  My total was $8.48.  On the corner about 40 yards from the hostel they sell burgers.  Pretty decent burgers at that, not just for South American standards.  The price of one of these gems is $1.  For lunch there are a few places I go.  They have a set menu so you don’t exactly choose what you get but they tell you before hand.  Typically it is some sort of meat, a side salad, a banana, a huge scoop of rice, a delicious bowl of soup, and a cup of juice for $2.  A gallon of water is $1 and a 32 oz beer is $1.25.
     Life is simple here.  I have been living with 5 t-shirts for about 2 months.  Each day I see the line between ‘want’ and ‘need’ a little more clearly.  I see people here with barely anything except a smile on their face and I think back to all the people with cars, jobs, family, and more food than they need and those are the people who think happiness comes in a prescription pill.  I do think that every person needs something slightly different to find happiness but I also know that whatever it is that we need, its not much.  I get my fix each morning as I walk to the beach and pass a gymnasium where they are holding a PE class.  The sound of the basketball hitting the floor over and over is my theme song.  I walk down to the shore, wearing the same shirt I had on the day before, knowing that I have to return to the hostel in just one hour for work, and I smile.  No money in my pocket, no car to drive around in, nothing.  Yet each morning I find my tranquility in that 3 block stroll.


PS A very happy birthday to Katie Parucha!!!

The City By The Bay

“If you don’t know where you’re going, any road will get you there.” -Mark Twain

     Good news world, I have found a hostel that will let me volunteer.  For the next two weeks I will be working at Hostel Coco Bongo in Bahia de Caraquez, Ecuador.  It took about 5 hours of traveling to get here from Puerto Lopez.  I wish I had some awesomely exciting stories to tell you of my recent adventures, but its been fairly routine.
     I spent five days in Puerto Lopez, mostly lounging on the beach and swimming in the ocean, which is warmer than any pool I have ever been in.  I spent one day going to a nearby island that is home of Blue-footed boobies, a bird that is mostly found on Galapagos.  They call the island the poor man’s Galapagos because it only costs $15 to go there instead of close to a thousand to get to the real Galapagos.  I did a bit of snorkeling and kayaking there, then headed back to the mainland sporting a very impressive sunburn.
    I chose to stay in Puerto Lopez for the next few days after that since I didn’t have a volunteer job lined up yet and was only paying $8 a night.  However, come Thursday, I was packed and boarding a northbound bus with my end destination set for Bahia de Caraquez.  Bahia is a self-proclaimed ‘eco-city’ and is the hub for many environmental volunteer projects in Ecuador.  Located on a peninsula with a bay to the east and the Pacific to the west, it still fit my desire of a coastal town, and with the volunteer gig all set it seemed foolish not to go here.  I can volunteer for two weeks, which still leaves about two additional weeks completely unplanned.
     My duties at the hostel are simple, sit at reception.  I spend about six hours a day sitting in the lobby in case anyone comes in.  I watch movies on my computer, study Spanish, surf the web, and talk with guests.  I’ve decided there are two types of people that travel.  The kind that haven’t established a career yet, usually mid to late 20s, and then those who have retired and are finally seeing things they have only dreamed of.  This hostel seems to be popular with the latter.  I am the only person under 50 here but we all still get along just fine.  All my days are pretty much the same.  I wake up around 8 and go running on the beach, swing by the market and get some fruit for breakfast, come back to eat and change, then back to the beach for an hour or so before I need to be at reception.  The rest of the day is spent sitting and waiting for someone to need a place to stay.  I basically live on $2-3 a day so life is cheap right now.  I’ll post again when I have something exciting to share.  Hope all is well in whatever part of the globe you are reading this from.  Ciao!

No where to go and all day to get there

"Mind on a permanent vacation.  The ocean is my only medication.  Wishin' my condition aint never gonna go away." -Jimmy Buffet


     I’ve covered a lot of ground to get where I am now, which is the lazy beach town of Puerto Lopez.  The drive out here was about as diverse a scene as Ecuador can throw your way.  From Baños, I went across the Andes and down into the tropical plains (if there is such a thing) near Guayaquil.  Arriving in Guayaquil I saw my first highway since I left the states.  Guayaquil, from what I saw, most closely resembles Los Angeles.  Not the skyline but the areas surrounding downtown.  I changed buses there and kept heading west.  Another three hours and I had to change buses again.  This time in the dusty town of Santa Elena.  Who knew that Ecuador had a desert.  Wind blew tumbleweed across the road and cacti were the only other vegetation.  It definitely looked liked it belonged along the US’s famous Route 66.  Another hour and I was in what I had hoped would be my home for the next month, Montañita.
     Montañita is a tourist hotspot that is unlike any other town in Ecuador.  Located right on the beach, the town is filled with hotels, hostels, bars, surf shops, dreadlocks and 20-somethings.  Getting off the bus I was smacked right in the face by the most humid air I have ever experienced.  Reggae music blasts from every which way while the air is occupied with the scent of fruit from juice stands, sunscreen, and burning marijuana.  It is high season in Ecuador (meaning a lot of tourists, nothing related to the marijuana reference) so prices are a little higher than usual.  I had trouble finding a hostel and, after being shot down by about seven, I opted for a hotel.  I got a single room with a shower that did not work for $30.
     At night the streets are full of young adults of all nationalities.  So far on my travels I have encountered a lot of Australians.  Not in Montañita though.  It was like the Olympic games of tourism.  Every corner of the globe was represented.  I met people from all over Europe, North America, a few from Africa, but the vast majority were Argentinean.  A quick side note: Colombian women have officially been dethroned.  The girls of Argentina take the cake.
     I went around to various hostels to see if they took volunteers, which none did.  This left me very little choice but to hit the road and continue north, which may have been a blessing in disguise because I don’t think I could have handled staying in the craziness of Montañita for the long term.  A 1-2 hour bus ride and I arrived at Puerto Lopez.  I found a hostel/hotel that only had one room left. A single with a fully operational shower and a balcony with views of the ocean for only $8.  I will use this as my base camp for the next few days as I try and find a volunteer possibility that will help save money, but $8 a night isn’t a bad alternative.
     Puerto Lopez is located on the edge of Machalilla National Park, which I am hoping supplies me with a few nice excursions into the wilderness.  Each morning dozens of fisherman compete with a few pelicans for the catch of the day.  I will continue to look for a month long volunteer possibility... tomorrow.  For now I’m just gonna relax in a hammock, eat a mango, and watch the sun disappear into the ocean.

Free Fallin'

"Be not afraid of life.  Believe that life IS worth living and you're belief will create the fact." -James Truslow Adams

     I could not have picked a better place for my return to civilization.  Baños is a small town that is flooded with tourists.  The streets are full of shops, restaurants, bars, and outdoor adventure companies competing for your business.  To me, it has the feel of an incredible beach town that is essential to anyone's trip to Ecuador.  The only problem is- it's no where near the ocean.  It is placed in a valley and surrounded by the steep mountains of the Andes.  Even if you pick and choose just a few activities here you can still have a once in a lifetime experience without breaking the bank.  Bikes rent for $5 a day and it is popular to do the 60 km ride to Puyo and see the amazing peaks, valleys, and rivers that this portion of the country has to offer.  A bus ride back only costs about $1.50.  Baños got its name from the natural thermal springs nearby.  A soak in the baths will run you about $2.  We went early in the morning to beat the crowds. A great way to start the day!  There are a few trails you can hike, if you want to do something outdoors but not spend any money.  I went on a decently tiring hike up the mountains that ended up with a spectacular view of the city.
     If you really want to get the adrenaline pumping and are willing to shell out a few dollars then Baños is your best bet.  A half day trip white water rafting is $30 and you hit some class IV rapids.  Try and sit in the front of the raft for the hardest hitting waves, but hold on tight so you don't get tossed out.  I chose to follow this up with an afternoon of "bridging".  For just $15 you can test your nerve by strapping a rope, NOT A BUNGEE CORD, to you and free falling off a bridge 360 feet above the ground.  The point is to jump out as far as you can and have your momentum cause you to front flip in the air and then swing back and forth under the bridge as you are slowly lowered to the ground.  I think even the bravest person might tremble a little as you stand on a platform and look directly down at a canyon 360 feet below you.
     As fun as Baños has been, it's about time to move on.  I will miss being able to blend in for once and not being the only 6 ft tall gringo walking around and catching stares from just about everyone.  The next part of the journey will be solo.  The girls will head north to work on another farm and I will head west.  I need some beach in my life so tomorrow I'll be waking up early and chasing the sun across the sky.  I don't know where I'll end up.  I might bypass Guayaquil because it is supposed to be dangerous, as with any big city.  I will keep you all posted on this next leg of the journey.  Hopefully flying solo will be easier now that I have already taken a leap.

Jungle Lessons

“Nothing’s gonna change my world.” -The Beatles

     Our time in the jungle has come to a close and I have no hesitation in saying that this last month has taught me more about life than any other collection of 30 days I have lived.  It is definitely bittersweet to leave, right now seeming more bitter than sweet.  Ahead of us lies the town of Banos (translated literally to “baths”) and a world of hot showers, laundry, wifi, and bars.  A month lacking all of these luxuries would make anyone a little antsy to return to this life.  We will be accompanied by another traveler, a 26-year-old from Philadelphia named Jameson.  He came to the farm a few weeks back and is going to tag along for the next stage of the journey.  After a few days in Banos the girls will head north back to Quito, where they will work on another farm.  My next stop is unknown.  I will head west in search of a hostel to volunteer at for a month.  I had been emailing a lot of hostels to see if I could get on at any of them but my email recently was hacked.  It sent spam to everyone I had emailed in the last year or so, meaning every hostel I had been trying to work at now marked me as spam.  I think I will head to Guayaquil and just work my way up the coast until I find a hostel.  Keep your fingers crossed.
    Our final weekend seemed to blindside us.  It feels like just last week we had just gotten off the bus and walked the muddy trail to the hut that would become our home.  Angelica’s birthday was yesterday (Sunday).  We went into town Saturday for her birthday dinner consisting of pizza (we passed on armadillo).  Last night we had dinner with Marco’s family.  One last hangout with all the kids and then we said our goodbyes.  Goodbyes seem a lot heavier when they carry “forever” with them.  Marco gave us temporary, hand drawn, tattoos.  Supposedly they last 70 days, but I guess time will tell.  I was going to get mine on my bicep but, let’s be honest, that doesn’t supply a whole lot of room for any sort of art.  I opted for a small phrase on the inside of my forearm.
     As we left the house we were accompanied by most of the family, as they were on there way into Puyo.  Marco’s oldest daughter has been in the hospital in town and in stable condition.  We are not totally certain what her ailment is but she is almost 9 months pregnant on top of it all.  She is single and has a son, a 4-year-old named Jordan who basically melts my heart.  He gets a kick out of riding on my shoulders, taking pictures with my camera, and jumping into my arms so that I can swing him around until we are both very dizzy.  I was in Puyo on Thursday and walking back to the bus stop when I heard “Kevin!” and looked up to see little Jordan running up the sidewalk towards me.  That may have been the happiest I have been in a long time, and I am a happy person.
     I spent most of last night playing with Jordan.  As we waited on the side of the road for the bus to take us home for the final night we were accompanied by Maria (Marco’s wife), the two youngest daughters, and little Jordan.  Sitting near the road I looked over and saw Jordan in tears.  I asked him what was wrong and strained my ears and brain as much as I could to try and understand his response.  Between his tears and my difficulties with the Spanish language I was unable to make out exactly what he was upset about but I did catch that it was something about his mom.  I brought him in for a big hug and felt his tiny arms wrap around me.  As we let go I caught a glimpse of the tattoo I had just gotten on my arm.  Jordan made me write the same thing on his arm with a pen so that we could be “el mismo” (the same).  There gleaned five words spread over three lines, “Nothing’s gonna change my world.”  Words from one of my favorite Beatles songs and in that moment they became meaningless.  There was a very real possibility that Jordan’s world was about to change in a massive way.  How fragile the world now seemed that in just a few days this 4-year-old may be orphaned.  The salt in the wound is not that I may never see that little guy again, but that I may never know if his mom pulled through.  Now, for the next 70 days, I will walk around with these words on my arm.  At first they seemed almost arrogant, as though I was in total control of my universe, but now they act as a plea.  Don’t break this world, my world, apart.  It seemed the jungle had one last lesson it wanted to teach me.

PS I know I said I would post a video but the internet here is too slow and won't allow it upload.  I will keep trying though.

The sights, sounds, and.... flavors of Ecuador

"The power of imagination makes us infinite."  -John Muir

     I´m afraid I lied at the end of my previous blog post.  I said that this next week would be pretty routine.  I guess 2 weeks in the jungle isn´t enough to teach me that the word "routine" has no meaning here.  Fresh off my Ayahuasca experience we were back at work on monday, only this time it was not farming.  Marco threw us a curveball and we have been helping him build a larger kitchen.  I use the word "helping" loosely here.  Mostly we do the little things he doesn´t have time for while he builds the entire kitchen himself.  We help move wood, hold things, hand him nails, dig holes for posts, make a path out of rocks, etc.  The entire process has taken all week due to interuptions caused by the weather.  We still managed to work in the fields a few days also but most of the time is spent on the kitchen.
     Yesterday we ventured deeper into the jungle to gather palms leaves to make repairs to the roof which has been leaking.  It took about two hours, five people, three machetes, and thousands of bug bites but we got what we needed with time to spare before the bus rolled through so we went on a jungle walk to find fruit to eat.  There were definately a few interesting tastes out there.  The real meal was waiting for us at home though.  One of Marco´s dogs, Tony, caught an armadillo on Friday night.  Upon our return we were greeted with a plate of rice, beans, plantains, and deep fried armadillo.  Delicous!
     There was one moment that was quite surreal that took place earlier in the week.  After a long day of "working" on the kitchen, the clouds had thinned and to the west you could see Chimbarazo (the largest mountain in Ecuador) and the Andes.  Just behind that the sun was setting.  It was one of those moments when you forget everything about anything and just stop and stare at the scene in front of you.  Of course none of us had a camera to capture the moment and share it with you all but I suspect it would have been one of those intances when pictures don´t do it justice.  It was not something that had never been seen before, or that would never be seen again, but that moment felt special, as corny as it sounds.  None of us said a word.  We just stared.
     I find that each week that passes I am more disconnected from my life in the states and becoming much more used to the culture down here, though I am not really in either place.  I am floating somewhere in the middle.
     This next week marks our last in the upper Amazon, and we leave to rejoin civilization once more.  I have had this idea to make a video and put it on the blog to show you all what our lives have been like for the past month.  Perhaps I will get to that this week so keep your eyes open for that on the blog next weekend.  Everyday is an adventure and I hope it continues to be that way.  The world has so many sights, sounds, smells, and tastes (armadillo?) to offer that one lifetime doesn´t seem to be enough.  Books and photos only do so much so go out and see what this planet can show you!

Ayahuasca

"There is only now, and if now is only two days, then two days is your life and everything in it will be in proportion.  This is how you live a life in two days.  And if you stop complaining and asking for what you never will get, you will have a good life." -Ernest Hemingway

     Sorry for the lapse in time between blog posts.  I can only make the 27 km bus ride to town on the weekends to get internet.  We have a new volunteer on the farm, a 56-year-old American named Richard.  He´s an interesting fellow.  He has 4 degrees and speaks 3 languages fluently (English, Spanish, French) and has been living in Ecuador for the past year.  He has a very negative outlook on the future of the planet but he is such an intelligent human that you can´t help but listen when he speaks.... which is all the time.

     Work has been the same.  A few days have been pretty warm so it is important to stay hydrated since you sweat like crazy in this humidity.  We are just about ready to plant everything I think so hopefully the work load lessens a bit.  Time will tell though.

     Last night we drank Ayahuasca.  A very brief description: Ayahuasca is a vine that grows in the jungle. It has intensely spiritual properties.  Marco, the shaman we live with, prepared it for us.  We start by cutting out all meat and dairy from our diet 2 days previous.  Then the day of the ceremony we woke up at 7am to drink this tea that helps cleanse your system. 


 You basically drink a lot of it really fast and vomit.  You can´t stop drinking until you have thrown up.  Then we went the rest of the day without eating.  The ceremony started at 7pm.  Marco did his ritual of fanning the air around you and chanting to get rid of the negative energy.  Finally it was time to drink the Ayahuasca.


     We drank about a shot each.  It tasted like dirt.  Slowly the effect began to overcome us. It was as if someone turned up the volume all around us.  The sounds of the jungle were so vivid.  I also heard buzzing for around 3 hours.  You´re vision goes all crazy and you´re mind starts racing.  For me, it was like this.  Imagine that every memory you have is a drop of water.  Each memory fills a huge bucket and then suddenly that water starts getting splashed in your face.  It was just memory after memory in no particular order.  No memory stayed long enough to really go in depth with it but it was clear enough to understand it.  Then in the the physical world around me, shadows and plants started to form intodifferent animals.  Some peaceful and others not so much.  The Ayahuasca is supposed to be cleansing your body of bad energy so I was having a constant struggle between good and evil with my visions.  Then you become violently ill.  It lasted about 3-4 hours and I had so many visions about things and people in my life that it is impossible to share them all.  I woke up this morning feeling very peaceful, though weak from lack of food.  I have since refueled and had time to work out what the visions were about.  It was a very strange journey I went on last night. 

     I came to town today in hopes of catching the Lions game online but it isn´t until 8 pm tonight so I will just have to think positively.  Sorry if this post is a little scattered, it was a rough night.  This next week should be pretty routine, or as routine as life in the jungle ever can be.  Working most of the week, but Marco said something about giving us tattoos that last around 70 days.  Oh boy! What to get, what to get.  Hope everyone is having a good winter back in the states.  I´ll post some pictures and videos when I have faster internet access in about 2 weeks.  Adiós! 

Welcome to the Jungle

“We can’t let our future become our past if we are to change the world. Won‘t you tell me please, how many miles must we march?” -Ben Harper

                Life in the rainforest is as you would expect… very wet.  It rains everyday.  Sometimes rain falls for only 10 minutes and sometimes 10 hours.  Nothing in the rainforest is wasted.  Rain water is used by all living things, including humans.  We wash our clothes with it, bathe with it, clean and prepare food with it, but only consume large amounts of it if boiled or filtered.  There is no telling what sort of bacteria lives in the water so it is best not to chance it. 

                As with any area where rainfall is this abundant, vegetation is dense.  Where there is vegetation, there is wildlife.  We haven’t seen any large animals yet, but there are enough birds to play us a symphony each night.  The birds hang around because food is easily available for them.  I have heard that it is unknown just how many species of bugs live in the rainforest, and after a week here I certainly believe that.  There are bugs of all sorts: spiders, beetles, cockroaches, ants, mosquitoes, and bugs unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.  Legend has it that a mosquito exists with a second needle protruding from it’s chest.  If poked by this needle you have to have sex in the next 30 minutes or else you will die.  Whether or not this is true is yet to be determined but the locals stand by it.  To me it just seems like a pretty desperate pick up line, but needless to say if you are in the Amazon make sure you have a few good looking women near… just in case.  There are huge trails of ants around the jungle too.  Some are dangerous and others just hard workers.  Leaf cutter ants carry bits of leaves hundreds of meters to form a pile.  Out of these piles grow fungi, which is the ants main source of food.  They have been cultivating longer than human beings.  Not all bugs have a strong work ethic or play the jungles version of Cupid, though.  Both Jackie and Angelica received a not-so-welcomed gift from mother nature on Christmas Day.  A nigua (a kind of flea) burrowed into each of their feet.  Jackie’s was removed shortly after it entered but Angelica’s appeared to be in her foot for a while because when it was removed a large amount of eggs came out with it.

                I have been hiking near Tahoe and come across lakes where I have been the only human for miles.  You just sit there and enjoy a silence so pure it almost seems like a dream.  There is no such silence in the rainforest.  Noise is the only thing more plentiful than water.  Birds with varying songs call out, crickets saw on their violin-like legs, frogs croak, and all of this blends into such a deep and wonderful song that you tend to pity the consumers of the CDs they sell at stores titled “Sounds of the Rainforest”.  No imitation can come close to the depth of this sound.

                We live on farm with a shaman named Marco.  His family lives a few kilometers down the road but we see them often enough.  Marco is one of the nicest people you will ever meet and quick to share his knowledge.  He has taken us to a few fiesta’s in town and the towns people are just as friendly.  When you think of Ecuador you may think of great amounts of poverty.  I think that perception is wrong.  There isn’t a constant struggle to put food on the table, they just live a very simplistic lifestyle.  Sure, money is not great in these areas, but its also not greatly needed.  They are happier than you and me and have gotten there by living a much simpler lifestyle.

                A few days ago Marco took us on a trek through the jungle.  I say “trek” because it certainly wasn’t a hike.  We had to wade across a few rivers, venture off the trail, and even swung from a few vines.  All of this lead to a waterfall where we had lunch and swam for a bit.  Marco might be the most intelligent person I have ever met.  Not in the way we often think of intelligence with math, science, politics, etc.  His intelligence is much more useful.  He can feel the Earth.  He knows how to use everything it gives him.  He knows what leaves cure different ailments, and the other day we needed another hoe for the field so he cut down a small tree using only a machete and trimmed it down until the diameter was small enough to fasten the end of the hoe onto it.

                We work Monday through Friday starting at 8 am.  We get to take breaks when it rains because being in the fields when muddy can hurt the crop.  The workday is long but rewarding.  You sleep better each night after a long day of tilling soil and picking weeds.

                The tranquility of this jungle paradise has been broken in recent days though.  A few nights back a German woman, her father, and her two young children showed up to stay with us.  They brought no food or water with them so they just helped themselves to what little food we still had left.  The children are maniacs.  The oldest boy was jumping around until the late hours of the night and spilled water on the floor above me so it leaked into my room.  A really charming kid.

                Each day is a little bit different and we learn a little bit more about the jungle and this simplistic lifestyle.  It really isn’t much of a nuisance at all which makes you wonder why, as Americans, we feel the need to have so much crap.  Also, there will be some delays in my posts since internet access is tough to come by.  Anyways, I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas and a very happy New Year!      P.S. GO LIONS!