South American Blunders

Greetings from Buenos Aires, ¨the Paris of the South.¨ This city is a beautiful fusion of European tastes and architecture with latin culture. The streets are always packed with beautiful, European looking people but the night never really begins until 2am. Literally, bars will remain almost empty until that hour as dinner usually goes until midnight. There are more parks, musuems, monuments, and areas of interest than any other city I've ever been in and I would recommend a visit here to any one who can afford it.
Getting here was no easy feat. There were 14 of us making the 3 day trip from Lima to Buenos Aires and we ended up half a day late. The bus broke down twice, but that was to be expected and didn't prove to be too much of an issue. The real delay came at the Peru/Chile border when 2 keys of coke were found on the bus and we were kept in a giant hamster cage for 6 hours. After searching and researching our bags and angrily questioning each and every one of us thoroughly we were all told to leave. Ask me to tell you this story next time I talk to you, there's more to be said.
Once I finally got here things went very smoothly. I stayed with Sam (American friend from my semester in France) and her family in the apartment they rented in Palermo, a ritzy little district of BA. They were great. Christmas was enjoyable-I went to midnight mass and played a silly game with their family until 4am. The next day they decided to take a 3 day trip down south and let me have the apartment all to myself! I hate exclamation points but this deserves one, it was so nice.
I am now staying with Ali and her crazy family in the apartment that they rented and last night they took me to a tango show, which was beautiful and I've been inspired to take up the accordion once again. I was supposed to have left yesterday for Bolivia and the monkey refuge but, just as I was walking out the door, Sam's brother informed me that Visa requirements had changed and I would have to spend $130 that I don't have to get into the country. Huge disappointment. So my plans have changed and I am now heading down to Patagonia (Southern Argentina) to volunteer as a ranch hand. I'll be working with 1500 sheep and 40 horses and they're going to train me to break in geldings (are they called geldings or is that a currency from a fantasy novel?). Check out the website...
www.estanciasantathelma.com
I am very excited about this and once I'm done there I'll head to a small farm also in Patagonia where they make their own cheese, beer, bread, wine, jams, and liquor.
www.chacraelcielo.com.ar
Yesterday I sat in a park, in the sun, and watched a puppet show while drinking beer and feeling very content.
Happy new years!

So, we´re piled into the back of Cherubia´s sister´s pickup truck, straddling plantanes and backpacks. We arrive at his house, which is carved into the side of the rainforest with a little river that goes around the back. All the construction was done by Cherubia and his brothers with wood and bamboo. His little, old mother came out and showed her enthusiasm by giving us all fierce, wet kisses on our cheeks and grinning from ear to ear throughout our stay. We cooked dinner and, as we went to bed in the main house listened to Cherubia tell stories about his tribe, sing some traditional songs, and even let us play one of the weird instruments that were once used by his tribe (looked like a bow that you pluck and press to your mouth).
The next morning we rose early and started walking into the forest. Very quickly we came to a huge river that we had to cross and not one of us got through it dry. And then it started to pour. I loved it. We walked at a fast pace for about 2.5 hours and were suddenly upon a covered bridge over a river that we were told was the entrance to the national park. With that, our guide just turned and left, wishing us luck.
We walked on into the forest, mostly in silence because it seemed like there were so many noises to be heard, but only if we kept quiet. We took turns macheteing our way towards the shelter and after a couple more hours found ourselves there. The shelter was essentially a roof that would fit one of our tents and had some benches for sitting in it. Marcus, Michele, and I immediately dropped our packs and started exploring the little river that bordered our camp. Weirdest shit I´ve ever seen. Life growing on life that was growing on life. We fought through vines and fallen trees and deep pools and somehow avoided being eaten or stung and made it in time to shower under a little waterfall before dinner. We played Mafia that night and ate well.
The next morning 5 of us continued on, without packs, to the second shelter. A beautiful hike with a beautiful view over looking the canopy at the end and we saw tapir tracks. We had to hurry back in order to get our packs and make it to the covered bridge before dark.
Once at the bridge we had a couple of crises. First, as dinner was cooking on our little stove, we heard a hiss and then a huge explosion. Somehow the flame from our stove had gotten to the gas canister and was causing a gigantic, unending flame inside this small, wooden, covered bridge and all we could do was kick the damn thing into the rainforest at the expense of our dinner. Once the can finally ran out of gas and the fire stopped we salvaged our dinner and began cooking it over the fire. For this we needed more wood and I took to hacking away at a fat, dry log. The machete bounced off the log and into my leg, between the shin and ankle. I calmly sat down and passed the machete off to Michele and then lifted my pant leg to see blood literally spurting out of it. It ran down my foot and pooled in the dirt and Michele immediately took amazing action. I almost passed out but they managed to stop the bleeding, get it cleaned and bandaged, and keep me awake. So much blood. Awesome.
The next day we hiked out, forged the river, and began walking to Cherubia´s house in order to catch the bus into town and then back to Quito. Marcus and I charged ahead, determined to get there and ended up arriving an hour ahead of everyone else. When we got to the house Cherubia´s 2 brothers were the only ones there and they were about half past drunk, enjoying their Sunday. They enthusiastically brought our dirty, exhausted selves into the house and began feeding us beer and asking us questions. The beer soon turned into pure Caña, manufactured at a farm an hour away and by the time our friends arrived Marcus and I were slap happy drunk and chatting away to these 2 men in what was probably slurred, incomprehensable Spanish. It was a great way to end the trip.
We got into Macas, toasted our success over dinner and parted ways. Overall the trip was incredible, the beauty and the excitement-the Andes and the jungle. Screw cities.

In 1 hour I am getting on a bus for Christmas in Buenos Aires. Happy Holidays everyone, spike your eggnog and sing loudly. Much love.

I have not updated this in a while and I´m sorry for that. A lot has happened worth writing about so I´m going to break this down into 2 parts, starting from when I left Planet Drum and the coast.
On the night of December 3rdish I left for Quito with Marcus, Darlene, and Micaela. The Brit, the Belgium, and the German, all fellow volunteers. We got into the Quito terminal at around 5am and, while standing in a circle around our bags and discussing how to get to the hostal, I had my small backpack stolen. It was an amazingly stealthy grab and the bastard immediately vanished into the crowd. I lost my phone, MG´s camera, Ipod, all toiletries including malaria pills, my book, and my wallet. Unfortunately, Marcus had foolishly trusted me with his money belt which included almost $200 and his passport. We filed a police report and that´s all there is to be said about that, I luckily had my credit card and passport in my big backpack.

We enjoyed Lima for 2 days. All the necessary gear, maps, and food were rented or purchased and a sufficient amount of drunken dancing was indulged in (my moves have gotten sharp, let me tell you). We took a bus on Monday night to the little town of Riobamba and the next morning got up at dawn to take a bus high up into the Andes.
Around 8am we asked the bus driver to let us off on the side of the road, in the middle of beautiful nowhere. The seven of us got off and shouldered our heavy packs and started down this little mountain road. There was Micaela and her boy friend Stefan from Deutchland, Lillian and her partner Michelle from the States, Darlene from Belgium, Marcus from England, and me. The Sound of Music scenery was wonderful and we stopped for lunch along a small stream where we had the opportunity to play with 2 curious llamas and throw a Frisbee. Giddiness. We passed through a couple little hilltop communities (by little I mean a few huts and a church) where everyone went far out of the way to ask us what we were doing. The 2 cars that we saw both passed us, stopped, and backed up to ask us what the hell we were doing up there. Apparently we were an unusual sight. At one point an Andean woman in a top hat lost her llama and Marcus and I immediately dropped our packs and helped corral the beast amid laughter and shouting.

That night we camped between 2 crystal clear mountain lakes and made a fire from dead trees that we had to rip from the ground. The stars were spectacular, different from the ones that you Northerners are seeing right now. Before bed, with a little natural help, we laid back and started drawing ridiculous constellations. I made a martini glass and a disco dancer and was quite pleased with them.
The next day we continued down the same road and began to quickly drop altitude. There were waterfalls every 20 minutes and the environment changed dramatically. That day we were supposed to get off of the road and onto a little trail that would follow the river and see us fighting pits of mud and climbing up steep banks but, since the road was completed, the trail has become overgrown and no longer exists.

That night we camped by the river and decided that, rather than continuing to walk along the road, beautiful as it may be, we would flag down a bus and take it to our final destination, Macas. All we knew was that Macas was known as the ´gateway to the jungle´ and was very near the volcano Sangay. So, we concluded that we´d be able to just continue our trek into the jungle. That night I actually got out my star book and Marcus and I managed to figure out a whole 4 constellations that I´ve probably already forgotten.

The next day, we caught the bus into Macas and were told by the office of the national park that there was no way we could go into the jungle. There was only one trail and getting to it would be impossible without a guide and there were no guides available for a few days. Just as we were being hit with this news Cherubia, the tall, proud, pony tailed native guide walked in and saved the day. He explained that he was an expert on the local flora and fauna and training to be a shaman. He was part of the Shuar tribe that used to shrink heads and was now almost completely wiped off the face of the Earth. He said he would take us to his house on the fringe of the jungle where we could stay for the night and, in the morning, he would guide us to the border of the national park from where we could find the trail. He couldn´t guide us any farther because he had to leave for a conference in another city but assured us that from there we´d be fine.
An hour later we were flying down the road in the back of his sister´s pick up truck, moving deeper and deeper into beautiful jungle territory and away from the city.

That´s it, that´s all you get right now but within the next 24 hours I´ll write the rest, it gets pretty exciting.
I´m in Lima, Peru, sick as can be with some unpleasant little bacteria in the guts. Oh South America.