South American Blunders http://southamericanblunders.nireblog.com Sat, 21 Nov 2009 00:16:06 +0100 South American Blunders http://static.nireblog.com/imagenes/logo.png http://southamericanblunders.nireblog.com http://nireblog.com Santa-Thelma Ranch http://southamericanblunders.nireblog.com/post/2008/03/19/santa-thelma-ranch http://southamericanblunders.nireblog.com/post/2008/03/19/santa-thelma-ranch To those of you who actually read this blog, I'm sorry for having so completely dropped the ball. I'm going to try to do all of this in one more entry, from where we left off to being towed across the finish line, so bear with me.
The night of my last blog entry I went to sleep in the municipal camping of Gobernador Gregores (asshole of the world) with the expectation of getting a ride at the crack of dawn from a friendly trucker that had agreed to pick me up. I woke at around 4:30am and sat on the curb, in the dark, for about 3 hours before walking to the road that would lead to the ranch; the same road that I had walked for hours before catching a ride into town. I hitch hiked all day, mostly getting ignored or people shaking their heads, until the sun went down and I disheartedly pitched my tent on the side of the road. The next morning, after another few hours with my thumb out, someone picked me up and took me within a mile of the ranch.
Southern Patagonia is a flat, fairly barren desert. You can find ostrich like birds and aardvarks but very little water or vegetation. The ranch, however, was an oasis of green grass, weeping willows, and a creek. They relied on 2 small windmills to supply the ranch's power and, on windless days (very rare), we ate by candlelight. The work for the first two weeks was informative but less than exciting. I did a lot of construction, helping to build the owner a new living room and random repairs around the ranch. Marc-Antoine, the owner of Santa-Thelma, is a macho Frenchman that likes to play cowboy and sip mate (a traditional, tea like drink). He doesn't like homosexuals or black people and didn't hesitate to make periodic jokes to that effect. Never pleased, unappreciative of the free labor he was receiving, and an overall jerk-I didn't care too much for the guy. In the time I was there 2 other volunteers came at different times and, despite their plans to stay for weeks, both left after a number of days because of the owner. His young, hot girlfriend Pauline on the other hand was sweet and appreciative and could meet any french stereotype with her cooking. She was probably the only reason that I was able to stay there for a full month.
I worked from morning to mid-afternoon and would then read in the shade or go for a hike before dinner with Marc-Antoine and Pauline. After the third week it was time to round up the sheep. We rode out for a full day to the end of his property and stayed the night near a dried up lake, under the stars. After a very cold night we woke at dawn and saddled up in order to drive all of the sheep from the end of his property to the corrals near the house. We fanned out and spent the day whooping and haaing at sheep until all 2,000 of them were in the corral. The next two days were spent tagging (taking a chunk out of the ear), castrating (just a rubber band around the balls-no blood), and cutting the tails off of some. My job, with one other, was to isolate groups of sheep in a small pen and then lift up the young ones onto the fence to receive the mentioned treatments. After being castrated, clipped, and marked we would count the sheep (people kept falling asleep, it was a problem) and then do it again. My moment of glory came when one of the sheep escaped through the fence and was heading off into the hills but out of nowhere came this young, American cowboy that open field tackled the wryly bastard. Even the stoic, weathered, gauchos there patted my back and told me that I was "like a wolf." Ya, I know.
2 days later I was off again, heading North with 2 other volunteers, a french couple, in their VW van. We picked our way along the coast for 2 days, stopping to camp and see the sights here and there before we parted ways in Caletta Olivia. I had less than 2 weeks left before my flight home from Santiago, Chile and planned on going to visit friends in Bariloche and others in Mendoza. I got to Bariloche and met up with my old frisbee friend from France, Joe Cooper and his girlfriend and their friend Brian. I stayed with them in their rented house for 2 nights of bowling, drinking, and the Argentinian card game 'Truco.' We hiked up into the nearby beautiful mountains and stayed at a refuge near the top, which happened to be swarming with climbers for a climbing competition the next day. We hiked down the following day and enjoyed a spectacular view and some very close flying condors. The three of them agreed to come North with me to Mendoza where an Argentinian guy named Hans had agreed to let us stay at his unfinished farm house.
Mendoza was great. It is the wine capital of Argentina and we rented bikes in order to tour multiple wineries and a chocolate/liquor making factory. At the farm we played cricket (epic game in the pouring rain that ended in a victory for Hans and Joe), made pasta from scratch, fired a big, scary gun, went swimming in the lake, and generally had an spectacular time. Then, it was time for me to go home.
Hans and his wonderful girlfriend drove us to the bus station, naturally at the very last possible second, and we rode to the main bus station. I said my goodbyes to Jess, Joe, and Brian and sat down in an internet cafe to kill 15 minutes before my bus for Santiago left. To make a long story short, after 5 minutes I felt a tap on my shoulder. The girl working at the internet cafe asked me if that had been my backpack leaning against the wall there. OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT. It was, of course, gone. I went racing through the streets of Mendoza, not sure what I would do but determined to find the thieves that had taken EVERYTHING. After 15 minutes of desperate running in circles I made my way back to the bus station with nothing but the shirt on my back, a month old magazine, and about $30 in my pocket. The bus company was kind enough to change my ticket from Santiago to Buenos Aires since I had no passport and couldn't get into Chile. My understanding and infinitely patient parents told me not to panic and put me up in a hotel room in Buenos Aires. The US embassy was able to issue me an emergency passport and my parents changed my flight to Buenos Aires. On the 25th of February, after over 5 months of life changing travel in South America, I boarded a plane with nothing but the clothes I'd been wearing for 3 days and a shopping bag with toothbrush, toothpaste, and deodorant.
The trip was incredible. I'm not going to even try to summarize in a paragraph what it meant to me or how I think it might have changed me but I love talking about it. So, when you see me, ask me questions. Scariest moment? Favorite place? Ask me about the 'coke found on the bus story,' there's more to be said. Ask me about the German youth hostel on wheels in Chile, the would-be-piranha-buffet in Ecuador, or teaching Sergi to throw a forehand in a warm, Peruvian river. Too much, too much.

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]]> Wed, 19 Mar 2008 22:14:12 +0100 Fingering Chile http://southamericanblunders.nireblog.com/post/2008/01/21/fingering-chile http://southamericanblunders.nireblog.com/post/2008/01/21/fingering-chile I get to use that crass title because that´s what they call hitch hiking here, "a dedo." So, I fingered Chile, I fingered Chile so good. I left the farm in El Bolson on the 15th and, instead of simply taking a bus South to Gobernador Gregores, decided to try my luck making my way South through near by Chile. I bussed to the border town of Esquel and then was able to flag down the very first car that came by. He took me over into Chile to a town called Futelafeu where I camped for the night by a river. The next morning I got up and started walking. I needed to get into southern Argentina by the 18th to start work at this ranch and it was going to be a challenge, busses would almost certainly be a necessity. I walked for about 2 hours before a mother and 2 children picked me up and drove me about 20 minutes up the road. Chilean Patagonia is probably the most beautiful place I have seen on this entire trip. There are waterfalls every 5 minutes and beautiful blue rivers and lush mountainsides everywhere you look. I walked for about 3 hours before a group of kids going rafting let me hop in the back of their truck. One thing that I´ve learned is that there is no better way to travel and no better way to see the landscape than from the back of a pickup truck. So much fun. After that was an indigenous family that took me to the nearest town. More walking and then a couple from the Czech Republic took me to Santa Telma, where I camped for the night in an open field. The next morning I waited with a group of Israelis until a huge truck came by and piled into it every hitch hiker it could find (in total there were about 11 of us). It left us all in the middle of nowhere and I hiked up to a scenic point overlooking the convergence of 2 rivers and had lunch. While there a German hostal on wheels pulled up and unloaded about 50 elderly Germans. The vehicle was 2 massive cars hitched together and, when everyone piled back in, I made the terrible decision to ride between the cars to the next town. Sorry mom, bad decision but it was also pretty cool. Once at La Junta I hiked for about an hour out of town and eventually caught a ride to Puyuaphi. Puyuaphi is right on the pacific coast and is beautiful. I camped by a river and got up at 6am to catch a bus South to Coyahaique. Once there my difficulties began. The only bus heading south that day (the next day was the 18th) headed to a tiny pueblo down south. I reluctantly went there and was able to hitch a ride a little further towards the border. The driver took me to his house which was also a hostal and I enjoyed my first bed in 18 days. I also took my first shower in 5 days, my hair had actually started to dread and I had just learned to avoid touching it. There was no bus leaving from this pueblo until Monday so I, once again, started stomping towards my destination. After about 2 hours a truck with the 3 coolest people in the world stopped and picked me up. German Jean and Argentinian Sandra and Rodrigo were actually traveling near my destination and said that I could ride along with them all the way there. What luck. We circled around the second largest lake in South America with its blue water and backdrop of snowy peaks before getting to Chile Chico and breaking down. We were stuck there for 4 hours before finally getting going again and making it across the border. At this point I was already a day late for the ranch and was very anxious to get there. We camped just outside of Perito Moreno and woke up at dawn this morning to continue South. The three of them left me about 2 miles outside of Baja Caracoles while they went on to see a famous cave with cave paintings. I walked into town over the strangest desert terrain I´ve ever seen in my life (could have been the moon but peppered with dense, perfectly round buttons of clover every 5 feet) where I was told that I could take a bus all the way to my destination. Not so. There is no bus that goes from there to Gobernador Gregores so, after sitting in the sun for 3 hours and trying to hitch I paid a bus passing through 30 pesos to let me off at the turn off for the road to my town. It was 80km. and I had enough food and water for about 24 hours so I just had to hope that a car came by on this desolate road and picked me up. I walked for so many hours this afternoon and was about to give up for the night when finally a single car came by and took me into town from where I hoped to walk to the ranch. I learned just as we entered town that the ranch was about 50km outside of town in the direction we had just come from. I had actually gotten pretty fucking close to it before catching my ride far from it. So, tonight I camp in a pay campsite in the city and a trucker agreed to take me with him at 5 tomorrow morning.
Internet access will probably be VERY scarce to nonexistent for the next month. So, much love and many of you I´ll be seeing in a month and a half.
YYYYEEEEEHHHAAAAAAA!!!!!!!

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]]> Mon, 21 Jan 2008 02:38:01 +0100 Patagonia and Above http://southamericanblunders.nireblog.com/post/2008/01/13/patagonia-and-above http://southamericanblunders.nireblog.com/post/2008/01/13/patagonia-and-above I am currently living and working on a little farm on a mountainside in El Bolson, Patagonia. The town, a 45min. walk from the farm, is a little, beautiful community that was founded by hippies in the 70´s and is surrounded by inviting, snow capped peaks. When I first arrived I stayed the night at a campside on the outskirts of town and the next day bought myself some supplies at the craft/food market here and headed to the foot of one of these mountainous playgrounds. I camped along the Rio Azul (blue river) and barely resisted jumping in the bluest of blue glacial waters I have ever seen. I love rivers but this thing is beautiful, surrounded by forest, and filled with great little nooks to rock hop, read a book, and drink a beer-simultaneously. I sat by my fire until late with an Argentinian couple talking politics and drinking wine and started up the mountain the next morning. The view, naturally, only got more and more spectacular and after 6 hours of uphill climbing I reached the Refugio Hielo Azul. Surrounded by forest and right on a little stream with a back drop of snowy mountains it was a great place to stay. That night I saw the most spectacular night sky of my life (which really is quite a statement) and slept well despite the cold. Camping outside of the refuges is illegal here but all the same they´re great because there´s typically no more than a small building, built by the employees from wood they cut and it´s only 5 pesos. I didn´t know and thus brought food for 4 days on my back but each of these refugios sells homemade bread and pasta and such. In the morning I somehow managed to get myself up and out of my tent at dawn to make the 2 hr. hike up to the glacier, as recommended to me by the Argentinians I had met below. I raced the sunrise, which kept creeping around the valley until it eventually caught up to me, and was slowed when I hit the icy snow. I had to kick footholds in and precariously traverse across the icy plain because if I lost my footing I would have slid very far and very fast into rocks with no means of stopping myself. The glacier was pretty unimpressive but the view was spectacular. On the way down, after making the poor decision to slide on my ass down to a patch of rocks (much pain, much ice in the pants), I mastered the art of skiing in shoes over ice. So much fun and damn I´m a badass. Back to camp, cup of coffee in the sunshine, and I headed down to Refugio El Cajon.
The hike that day was pretty brutal as I was traversing the mountainside and constantly found myself going up and then down and then up again. In the middle of a forest on a mountainside in Patagonia, far from people and gringos, I found something odd. Sitting on a stump, facing me and in pristine condition was ´The God Dillusion´...in English. It certainly wasn´t a coming to god moment but it was very odd, I haven´t started it yet but I expect it to unlock some sort of secret something.
El Cajon was equally beautiful and the next day I decided to stay an extra night. I fought my way upstream and spent the whole day fishing from a rock. At one point, fully clothed with a book, beer, and my kick ass fishing pole in hand I fell into the glacial water. The beer was lost but I managed to drag myself out of the water with everything else. Cold. So very cold. I laid out all my clothes in the sun to dry and then, of course, was seen butt naked by a few of the only backpackers in the area. No fish.
That night 2 really friendly Puerto Ricans came and shared my fire with me and a bottle of wine. Before long we were joined by about 7 Argentinians and it turned out to be a great night.
I descended the next day and caught a bus into town. By that evening I was setting up my tent at the farm and having been working there since then. I harvest various things and do some manual labor. I also am often charged with watching 1 year old Salamei. I´ve kind of fallen in love with her. 3 more days and I´m heading down to cold, windy Santa Cruz to work on the ranch.
Coming home is going to be hard.

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]]> Sun, 13 Jan 2008 17:19:52 +0100 Buenos Aires http://southamericanblunders.nireblog.com/post/2007/12/31/buenos-aires http://southamericanblunders.nireblog.com/post/2007/12/31/buenos-aires 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!

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]]> Mon, 31 Dec 2007 16:42:37 +0100 Epic Andes Trek part 2 http://southamericanblunders.nireblog.com/post/2007/12/20/epic-andes-trek-part-2 http://southamericanblunders.nireblog.com/post/2007/12/20/epic-andes-trek-part-2 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.

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]]> Thu, 20 Dec 2007 18:09:36 +0100 Epic Andes Trek part 1 http://southamericanblunders.nireblog.com/post/2007/12/19/epic-andes-trek-part-1 http://southamericanblunders.nireblog.com/post/2007/12/19/epic-andes-trek-part-1 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.

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]]> Wed, 19 Dec 2007 20:42:22 +0100 Dawson, Permethius Dawson http://southamericanblunders.nireblog.com/post/2007/11/17/dawson-permethius-dawson http://southamericanblunders.nireblog.com/post/2007/11/17/dawson-permethius-dawson Last weekend I rented a bike and rode out to a little farm along a river in the jungle near Canoa (the beach town where I can be found most weekends). The bike was a piece of shit with a seat that felt like steel but I made it there. The bike ride along the road was beautiful and green and eventually I reached the turn off for the farm. After a short ways on a bumpy dirt road I came to a fork that directed cars and bikes to the left and foot traffic to the right (both paths leading to the farm). I decided to take the foot path and had the most ridiculous, fun time riding up and down this narrow, wild path. I forged rivers with my bike over my head and splashed through them if I thought they were shallow enough and I had enough speed. I finally arrived and had lunch on a big, flat rock in the little river and then headed back. All in all a good day.
On Tuesday we rented a little boat and motored our way upriver to a mangrove. We got pretty boozy and decided to swim once we stopped near one of the unusual little mangroves. The tops of the trees were all that was visible of it and the air above it was thick with birds of all different shapes and sizes. We swam up to the mangrove with no idea of how many different kinds of snakes and piranahs were likely to take us under. Once we reached the mangrove we swam onto about 10 feet of really wet mud and had to sort of army crawl above it in order to advance. We got to the heart of the mangrove and just layed back in the mud/years of bird feces and watched all the birds swoop and dive above us, doing whatever it is that birds do. It was a memorable experience and we eventually crawled back out, unscathed.
Last night I tried fire dancing and oh what an awesome success. I don´t have a single burn on my body and got some really cool pictures with the 2.5 tricks that I can do comfortably.
Pictures aren´t working too well on this, follow the facebook link below-
http://lclark.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2019843&l=101fb&id=31600841

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]]> Sat, 17 Nov 2007 18:56:26 +0100 Flaming balls of Death http://southamericanblunders.nireblog.com/post/2007/11/10/flaming-balls-of-death http://southamericanblunders.nireblog.com/post/2007/11/10/flaming-balls-of-death I am now learning to both surf and fire dance ("poi"). Both are frustrating and painful but I´m determined to figure them out. I bought my surfboard on Friday, I´m essentially renting a really quality (but small and therefore hard to learn on) board and bag for $50 for a month. I went yesterday with my new board and not only couldn´t stand up even once but got stung by so many god damn jelly fish that my body is criss crossed with welts. The blue bastards nonchalantly (sp?) float up to you and then, if you happen to graze against them, wrap their horrible pain inducing tentacles around your flesh and just hang there, stinging you, until you desperately tear it off.
As for the poi. Gabriel is teaching myself and 2 other Planet Drum volunteers to fire dance on the beach. For some reason the tennis balls in nylon stockings that we use to practice have mistaken my testacles for tennis rackets and, each time I practice, have a crippling match at my expense. I can usually go for about 1-2 minutes before the tennis balls strike each other and one of them ricochets up into my crotch at high speeds, leaving me on the ground in the fetal position. Then I get up and do it again. Unlike surfing however, I am starting to get better at this and can reasonably hope that within a few weeks I´d be ready to use fire. Sorry madre.

In my last entry I mentioned having my sandals stolen while I slept in a tent on the beach. My tent bag and stakes were also stolen in that incident but I found them on Friday. As I was getting off the standing room only bus in Canoa, an old man got on with my ´Kelty Teton 2´ bag strapped to his backpack. As we awkwardly maneuvered past eachother in the aisle of the bus we discussed the possibility of me getting it back:
Me-That´s my bag.
Prick-Yup.
Me-Can I have it back?
Prick-Nope.

And with that I stepped off the bus with nothing but impotent bitterness to show for myself. If I find him in the streets of Canoa I intend to follow him and steal it back. Oh he will get his comeupins.
Last point of interest-I´m planning to leave from here to the Andes on Dec. 1st with, hopefully, a couple of the volunteers from here. We´re going to do a 4-6 day hike from the Andes down into the jungle. It should be epic and amazing.
Hope everyone had a happy halloween, ciao.

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]]> Sat, 10 Nov 2007 18:05:10 +0100 Reforestation and Surfing http://southamericanblunders.nireblog.com/post/2007/11/04/reforestation-and-surfing http://southamericanblunders.nireblog.com/post/2007/11/04/reforestation-and-surfing I stood on my surfboard. Not on the land but while being pushed to shore by a huge wave. That´s right, after what seemed like hours of being thrown around by the waves like a rag doll and fighting to get back out behind them, I not only caught one but I stood up for all of three seconds. I am now a surfer and will buy a cheap, used board from "Freddy" tomorrow, which I´ll be able to sell back in a month.

In other news the volunteer work is still going well. I´m beginning to know the sites and understand a little more fluidly what needs to be done and when. One of the new volunteers, Marcus, is a very funny/friendly British chap that may travel to Baños with me, which is good because I prefer to travel with someone.

Got into a strange, drunken debate with a group of young anarchists Friday night.
Got my sandals stolen off the beach, bought new ones, awoke to find that the new ones had been taken too (or blew away...we were camping on the beach).
I still cannot salsa to save my life.
Things are good, Ecuador is still beautiful, and the rainy season is just beginning.

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]]> Sun, 04 Nov 2007 18:12:36 +0100 Peru to Ecuador and back to square 1 http://southamericanblunders.nireblog.com/post/2007/10/23/peru-to-ecuador-and-back-to-square-1 http://southamericanblunders.nireblog.com/post/2007/10/23/peru-to-ecuador-and-back-to-square-1 On Tuesday the 17th I left Puerto Maldonado and started the epic journey to Quito. It consisted of 4 busses and over 80 hrs. on them...

Puerto Maldonado to Cusco: Our bus broke down...4 times. The 3rd time, at about 2 in the morning in the middle of nowhere we screeched to a halt on the side of the road and someone sheepishly asked, ¨should we push?¨ At that moment i really loved Peru. At night the temperature dropped dramatically as we climbed into the Andes and I would surely be suffering from pneumonia now if the man next to me didn´t take pity on my quivering and shared his blanket. The bus rumbled like it was about to fall apart, but after 18 hours the earthquake on wheels rumbled into Cusco.

Cusco to Lima: 2 hours later I was on a bus to Lima, which was relatively very luxurious. This time a Peruvian law student gave me a blanket.

Lima to Tumbes: I then traveled Nort all along the Peruvian coast for many, many hours. I sat next to a nun that was doing missionary work in Africa, I was happy to offer her my sweatshirt.

Tumbes: In Tumbes things got a little crazy. A small mob of people were waiting for me at the station and all clambered for me to follow them (apparently the bus line had let someone in Tumbes know that there was a Gringo wanting to go over the border and would probably need some help). Somehow 18year old Javier got a hold of me and took me to a bank, back for my bag, to the immigration office in a collectivo (like a taxi but full of people and for a long distance), to the border which we walked over, to the immigration office in Ecuador, and finally to the bus line. All the while he kept telling me how quickly I´d be robbed at knife point if he wasn´t looking after me. On the Ecuadorian side of the border, before my bus to Quito, I got him sufficiently drunk and sent him on his way.

Tumbes to Quito: I sat next to a really friendly, really curious, young Columbian guy that asked a million questions about the states and its politics. We got controlled (stopped by the military and all the males have to get off the bus and have their id checked, sometimes patted down for weapons), 4 times. At 3:30am, the last time we got controlled, they pulled only 2 people off the bus, one of them was the columbian guy on my right. When the bus started to pull away I ran to the front and told the driver we had left 2 people but he explained that they had ¨been detained.¨ Creepy.

I got to Quito over 4 days later at 6am on Sat. and, thanks to mummy dearest, went straight to a hotel. When I was let into my oh-so luxurious room I immediately jumped back and forth from bed to bed like a child. I then went and took my first shower in 5 days, brushed my teeth for the first time in 3 days (my fault, lack of water), and enjoyed what shall hence for be known as ¨the bowel movement of glory.¨
Quito was beautiful and very fun though I spent a lot of time by the hotel pool.
Yesteray, Monday morning, I took a 9 hour bus ride here to Bahia de Caraquez. At 9pm I finally found Planet Drum, my new home until mid-december. Initially I was really pleased (after having no idea what to expect). The set up is like a college dorm room with Bob Marley perpetually playing and pot growing in the bathroom and a hammock in the living room. Communal dinners are cooked everynight by 1 of us and then the 6 of us work during the day until around 2pm. There´s 5 girls around my age, mostly Americans but they´re all (but 1) leaving by the end of the week to be replaced by new volunteers. Clay is the ´program director´ but has the persona of a stoned, california surfer-dude. All this would normally be a fun setting to live in for a couple months but the jury´s still out...I miss the forest and the people in it. Most of the volunteers here are kids traveling around for a bit, not crazy environmentalists with a million things to say. Oh, and no one speaks Spanish, which is really no good. We´ll see.
The city itself is pretty cool with a river to the east that collides with the ocean from the West (it´s a big triangle). The surrounding area is forest but relatively very dry.
Tomorrow is my night to cook, any suggestions?

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]]> Tue, 23 Oct 2007 21:34:09 +0100 Puerto Maldonado http://southamericanblunders.nireblog.com/post/2007/10/13/puerto-maldonado http://southamericanblunders.nireblog.com/post/2007/10/13/puerto-maldonado Hello friends, here's an update that, given my lack of traveling, will be brief.
The past 2 weeks I've been living with the old Spanish couple, Pepe and Therese, and their 14 year old son Sergi. Life there is somewhat hard but wholesome, sweat filled but happy. In my time there, with many bug bites and much sweat, I have built 2 composts (1 for organic things like vegetables and the other for the toilets) a gate of bamboo, a wall of bamboo for climbing ivy, and a 'green house' of sorts that was instantly torn to shreds by the god damned puppy Garelle. It was pretty glamorous at first, chopping down bamboo in the forest to use in construction but this glamour soon wore off. The benefits to living there, however, are enormous and I think have had a profound effect on how I want to live my life in the future.
1. The river (to say nothing of the private beach I cross to get to it) is paradise. The temperature, the soft sand, the strong current, and the beauty all make it something I could sit in for hours. It's especially wonderful once gallons of sweat and dirt have been accumulated. But it's ESPECIALLY wonderful at 5:30 when the sun begins to set and the forest erupts in a symphony of birds and bugs that lasts only 30 minutes.
2. Most every night is punctuated with an animated conversation over a delicious, fresh meal. Pepe loves to rant about the 'sweetness of life' and other such cheesy, feel good topics that seem so appropriate in that setting.
3. Smoothies. There is no electricity or running water, which means very few luxury and no refrigeration. However, I can go to the market in the morning and buy fresh yogurt and fruit. Back at the house there is a crank blender with which I can make delicious, relatively cold fruit smoothies. Each one is the greatest drink I've ever had.
Included (I hope) is a picture of the couple I've been living with as well as one of me with Ashley at that same house. Ashley was one of the 2 researchers that convinced me to go visit Pepe and Therese in the first place. There's a picture of me on top of the observation tower at CICRA and another of me bailing out one of the aged, pseudo-buoyant canoes that 6 of us took down the river at night (amazing experience).
MG has given me her small digital camera and thereby I will be able to take pictures and upload them here, a happy day.
Monday night I took the advice of Therese and Pepe and went to Shaman Eduard to drink Iowaska under his watchful eye. Iowaska is a psycho-delic (tropic?) drink of three herbs that has been used for centuries in a certain ceremony by a certain tribe. I went to him at 8:30 and, when no one else showed up, took a tall shot of black sludge with him. I spent the remainder of the night in a pitch black room, curled into a ball and trying to prevent venomous creatures from stealing my reason and unsuccessfully trying to convince myself that everything was okay and death was not upon me. Worst night of my life, enough said.
I am now back at CICRA for the weekend and seeing MG again was nicer than I could have expected. Monday I'll go back to Pepe's house for long enough to skip rocks with Sergi and have one last dinner with the happy couple. Tuesday will be day one of a three day bus ride to the border of Ecuador and Peru. On the 25th I start my internship with Planetdrumfoundation in Bahia Carazquez.
Monday sort of shook me to the core but I'm once again beginning to feel reckless and excited, as it should be. Here at CICRA I plan to sit in a hammock and read (I'm learning to lucid dream, kind of exciting) and try and relax to a point that seems inappropriate. I still don't have addresses for the vast majority of you. Send me them and your love.

Xnay on the pictures for now, I"ll be able to upload them when I have a better connection in the future.

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]]> Sat, 13 Oct 2007 18:25:37 +0100 It´s all happening so fast http://southamericanblunders.nireblog.com/post/2007/10/01/its-all-happening-so-fast http://southamericanblunders.nireblog.com/post/2007/10/01/its-all-happening-so-fast I have to try and keep this brief as I need to get to the market and find a taxi before it gets dark.

I took a painfully long bus ride from Cusco to Puerto Maldonado on the 25th and stayed the night in a run down little hostal in this extremely ugly city. It rivals phoenix in it´s appalling heat and appearance, only it has more dust than tar. The difference being that tar doesn´t stick to your sweaty skin and make you feel like you´re suffocating. Almost all the taxis are motorcycles (there´s hundreds of them) and I got to ride my first one, pretty exciting.
The next morning I crammed myself into a little car with 9 other people (3 in the trunk, 4 across the seat, 1 between the driver and passenger seats) and arrived in Laberinto from where I caught a boat up river. This boat moved at about .5 miles an hour and was so loaded with people, baggage, and animals that the sides of it barely stayed above the surface of the water (and several times didn´t). I rode 11 hours in this damn boat and got urinated on by both a puppy and a sheep. Towards the end the children had taken a liking to the gringo and I was teaching them math and giving them multiplication quizzes towards the end of it (I know, the worst gringo to be teaching math on the planet). They listened to my ipod and were fascinated by anything I pulled out of my bag (so I generally opted not to open my bag). Overall it was a pretty good if a little harrowing Birthday.
I was dropped off in the pitch black on the bank where, lucky for me, MG had come down to meet me. This was a good thing seeing as how I had no idea where to go, there are apparently Caymans (like crocodiles) all over those banks, and there was a Bushmaster on the stairs I had to take (super deadly). I spent the next 3 days with MG in the middle of the beautiful rainforest, taking walks with her to catalogue plants and getting to know a slew of amazing, intelligent, interesting people. I climbed a huge observation tower that went above the canopy, saw a ton of monkeys and tropical birds everywhere I went, and ascended a 90ft. tree with ascenders (and had an awesome repel down). Sorry mom, that´s just the way it is. The whole stay was truly life changing and I didn´t want to leave.
Yesterday I caught the boat back in the morning (a faster, better, more comfortable boat) and was invited by two of the researchers there to stay the night with them at a friends house in Puerto. I decided I could put off my trip to Bolivia and the monkey reserve for a day and opted to join them. This "house" is 25min. outside of horrible Puerto Maldonado and is paradise. It´s completely secluded within the rainforeset and right on the river (which is the perfect temperature, I´m about to go buy an innertube). It´s actually an ecological education center/lodge that has ambitions of an organic garden, green house, and many other big picture projects. There are hammocks everywhere and 5 different cabanas. No electricity, no running water-just compost toilets and a small solar panel that offers enough power for a stove and some light in 1 room at night. It is lived in by this sweet old, Spanish couple that built the place. They are some of the most animated, energetic and happy people I have ever met. They get impassioned and should about globalizaton and socialism and various life philosophies and don´t speak any English. So, when they said they were looking for volunteers to stay there and help undertake some of these projects I of course put down my heavy backpack and declared myself their volunteer. I´ll be here 3 weeks until my internship in Ecuador begins on Oct. 25th. There´s a ton of work to do but also a lot of time to sit in a hammock and try to spot monkeys, I´ll also be able to go back to the research station and visit MG.
Thus far everything has been really amazing. I´m covered in bug bites and itch everywhere but am as happy as can be but for my lack of a camera (stolen from a train on the way back from Macchu Picchu).

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]]> Mon, 01 Oct 2007 22:17:03 +0100 the madness begins... http://southamericanblunders.nireblog.com/post/2007/09/23/the-madness-begins http://southamericanblunders.nireblog.com/post/2007/09/23/the-madness-begins I arrived in Lima at midnight and at 5 the next morning flew to Cusco to meet Becca Maxwell. This went surprisingly smoothly as i found her in the plaza, right where i was supposed to and right on time. Yesterday (the day after I arrived) we went to Machu Picchu and it was breathtaking, spectacular, etc. The ruins themselves were amazing but it was the views from up there in the clouds that were so staggering.
We then killed 4.5 hours in the little town at the foot of the mountain until our train came. Then, at 4:30, we left our spot and missed our train by 5 minutes...of course. Got back on a later train and I saw Becca off at 4 this morning. I´ve got one more day in Cusco and hopefully tomorrow I´m setting out to find my friend MG at her remote jungle research station. Below are the instructions I´ve received on how exactly to get there...should be interesting. I plan to spend a few days there and then head to the Bolivian monkey reserve that I´ve mentioned to some of you.
Cusco is really a neat little town. Most of the architecture consists of ruins from the early 16th century. Most of the women wear top hats and ruffly skirts and the altitude is brutal. If I wash my hair with too much rigor I find myself panting and my heart pounding (literally, that happened this morning after almost 3 days here).
My trip is just starting and I have a long way to go so e-mail me and tell me you haven´t forgotten me because, though it´ll be lifechanging and exciting, this is a pretty lonesome undertaking and I find myself sappily missing all of my friends and family.
alright, that was relatively painless. Hugs and drugs, peaches and orgasms, fight the good fight. Much love.
Aaron/J
MG´s instructions:
...you can share a taxi with 5 other people. This way it is cheaper. You should be at the taxi at 6, so that you
get to Laberento around 7. Once in Laberento, ask where the boats
leave from. It is only a two block walk, maybe less, to get there
(laberento is super small). Then, when you get to the boats, ask
which one is going to "San Juan" or "Boca Amigo" or "Colorado". This
is the one you want to get on. Tell them that you are going to
CICRA.. that is the name of the field station I work at. If they
don't know where CICRA is, tell them that it is right after Boca
Amigo, and on the right side of the river. The boat will cost you 30
soles one way, and you pay when you get off. It is often really
really full of people, and takes at least 11 hours but often stops
over night in little villages. If you get stuck in Boca Amigo, ask
for Betty and tell her that you know me (but you have to say Marjorie,
not MG, because they only know me as Marjorie) and tell her you are
stranded there for the night. There are no hotels in these little
towns, so if you get stuck you are at the mercy of the people who live
there, who are often very very very nice. When you get to CICRA, you
will see boats and a sign that says something like "CICRA- Biological
Concession for the Conservation of the Amazon". Then, you will have
to walk up about 300 stairs (in the dark too, so pack your head lamp)
and then you will be at the field station! Just ask for me and they
will get me, there aren't very many people here.

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