Joining the real world...

well, we all knew this day was coming

On Monday, June 12, 2006, I will officially begin my working career...

I'm a little excited and a little nervous about this job.

i will be selling doors, door-to-door.

nah, actually ill be a IT contractor for an election software firm in Otown. I'm pretty sure I will be working with a guy named Michael Bolton and Samir naga-naga-notgonnaworkhereanymore

now it's time to get some rest.

Coming to America...What's been going on and impressions so far.

It's about 2am here in Omaha and everything is quiet.  Actually, it's always quiet here.  Much different than some of the noises I was used to hearing rambling around hostels in some strange South American city.  I am wired.  I was going to go out this evening and laid down for a nap at around six and woke up around 130 this morning.  Now, it is the wee hours of the morning and I feel a little too refreshed from all the sleep and thought punching out some ideas into the blog update my do the trick and put me back to sleep.  

 

I have been home for about a month now and it has been an adjustment.  It's nice to be sleeping in my own room and my own bed.  So nice to not be in a bunk bed that has been slept in by a thousand people in a room shared with six or eight or 12 or your closest friends. 

The following is a description of my little journey after the big journey. 

I left Buenos Aires on March 22nd.  It was one of those warm evenings where the weather was just perfect for a little walk in the park, but I had a plane to catch.  I had finally cooled down from that subway goonie who tried to pickpocket me and was preparing myself for the nice 10 hour flight from BA to Chicago during my cab ride to the airport.  It was a strange sensation to be in the back of one of those little Renaults for the last time.  Sitting in the backseat with my fist under my chin and staring blankly out the window I would split glances between the rush hour traffic, my watch, the city passing by, all of the Spanish labeled signs, the soccer fields, and the feeling that it's over. 

The trip was over. 

Even now, I can close my eyes and look back to some events that are etched in my mind.  Sometimes it is people that I have met along the way, sometimes it is the unforgettable scenery, and sometimes it is something that you only think is funny and telling someone else might just not make it funny anymore. 

There is a Kenny Chesney song, "I Go Back" that I had on my iPod during my whole trip that really rang true.  It's about hearing some song on the radio that takes you back to another place and time.  This is so true about these songs, because it's the little things on this trip that bring a smile to my face.  For example, I had a conversation with Mariano, the hostel owner of America del Sur in El Calafate, Argentina. He and I were talking about Rock N Roll and how his first impression of American Rock Music was GNR's "Paradise City."  Mariano was in love with GNR and never really said "I like 'Paradise City'"  He started to rock his head front to back, play his imaginary drum set by whipping his wrists up and down and slowly sang in his baritone voice and his Argentine accent, "Take me down to da Paradise City where da grass is green and da girls are pretty.  Oh, wont you please take me home"  Every time I hear this song it will make me think that whole experience in El Calafate.  Weird how things like that happen.  There are lots of other examples of that.  Like the time I started to kinda sing "The Gambler" while waiting in line at the grocery store in Cordoba, Argentina.  Every time I hear that song from now on Ill think about that.

 

So I arrive late enough at the airport that there is no queue at the checkin but early enough that I dont miss the plane.  Had a really fun conversation with the security guy while he was going through my backpack and checkin my undies for explosives.  I kinda realized that this was prolly gonna be the last time I get to talk lots of Spanish with just about anyone so I took advantage of it and chatted with Manuel about Riverplate and Boca Jrs for about 15 minutes.  

Getting on the airplane and getting up in the air was a piece of cake, the airline food was great and the entertainment was pretty good as well.  One thing that I kinda kicked myself for doing was the mistake of not appreciating the delicacy of the situation when there was a pretty ladytype sitting in my seat and the seat next to her was open.  Instead of saying, "um, yea, Im in the seat right next to ya," "um, that's my seat" escapes your lips and you are like "Dang it!"  Sometimes, I am not smooth.  Falling asleep and staying asleep proved to be sort of a problem.  The selection of airline music was pretty impressive, the variety of rock, country, and hip hop music American Airlines provided exposed me to music that I had not heard of in my little six and a half month popular culture gap.  The movie titles were great as well, but the only problem was that I kept on catching movies that I really wanted to see about 15 minutes after they had started.  "Walk the Line" was playing but I kept on catching it at the wrong time.  Darn it, this was just like the Antarctica Cruise where I could never catch a movie in its entirety.  I spent my time on the plane between dozing off and catching up on my journal entries.  The cute girl that I could have been sitting next to and who I wanted to talk with looked pretty comatose after dinner and showed now signs of life until the plane was about to land.  Couldn't really do anything there.  Bummer.  Finally, sleep!  Then i awoke right as they were cleaning up breakfast.  Drats! 

One thing that I did not expect to happen was to have swollen feet that were twice their normal size.  Rafal had told me that would happen because you are stuck the same seated position for quite some time and the blood just pools in your feet.  I really didnt think it would be that bad, until I tried to slip on my hiking boots and had to force them in and feared lacing them up.  Yaowza!  Another thing that I was not prepared for was the dehydration, the jet air just dried your nose out and dried your lips out too. 

Made it to Chicago in one piece at about 5am.  All the international travelers were treated like cattle and moved slowly through the lines at customs and immigrations.  I really feel for those folks stamping your passport at the airport.  Their jobs are kinda like IT jobs: you are either a dog or a bad dog.  Got my stuff and then waited in more lines to grab my connecting flight to Omaha.  Still hard to believe that the airport folks make you remove your shoes.  If I had slip-on sandals this would not be a problem, the problem is that I am wearing heavy leather hiking boots that are a chore to take off and then to put on again.  Dozed a little more and then got on the plane to Otown. 

It was hard to believe that I made it back to Omaha in one piece.  I used a little change to call up one of my friends to pick me up and grab a little food before I hopped on another plane six hour later back to Chicago and ultimately New York. My first meal back in Otown was California Taco.  Cali Taco is a great establishment in the heart of Omaha where one taco fills you up during your lunch time visit.  I washed down the taco with large amounts of Dr. Pepper.  I made up for not drinking any DP in seven months that day, think I drank too much because I got sick before my plane boarded later that day.  Loaded up on the Loperimide and was good to go. 

Back in Chicago.  Chicago O'hare Airport was packed that evening and I could not help but notice the proliferation of fat people.  In not talkin about a little bit of pudding under the skin, im talkin about the security guard who cant see his own toes and is destined to have eternal back pain because there is an untapped keg of lard sitting right in front of him.  Holy smokers, seeing obese people was sort of a new experience that I had not seen in South America.  Another new thing to me was all the English language signage.  I thought to myself, "Wait a minute, everything is in English...that's weird."  Another thing that kinda caught me by surprise was that prices are now in US Dollars, not the Argentine Peso.  Sorry, no 3:1 currency conversion rate. 

The long way home.  OK...The trip route home sounds a litte strange.  I went from Buenos Aires to Chicago to Omaha to Chicago to New York City to Houston to Omaha.  I chose this route not because I enjoy touring airports but because I was surprising my two sisters in New York and Texas.  It was actually cheaper to fly back to Omaha first than to change my original ticket.  It was also worth it to see my fam. 

Well, I was definitely not in South America when the cab ride cost me 25 bucks.  I was in the Big Apply, baby.  Everything is expensive here.  My sister was really really surprised to see me. "You're here!" and "Oh my gosh, you have a beard!" and "Man, that thing is scraggly" are the first things that my sister, Sandy, said to me as this travel weary gringo passed through her door into her Manhattan apartment.  

New York City was sort of a shock.  People in South America are warm and easy to talk to.  New Yorkers are not.  You are alone in a crowded city of eight million people.  Folks isolate themselves with their iPods and appear vain with their "Who the f*** are you type attitude."  

I really like to visit my sister and see the museums in NYC.  There is always something to do in NYC.  The problem is that it seemed to be full of North Face posers and ostentatious jerks.  These are the type that are out to impress people they dont even know.  North Face posers really get under my skin because they have these 300 dollar Summit Series Gore-Tex coats and have never set foot on a trail.  It's a ridiculous fashion show.  It is a silent one-up.

Sorry to sound like a downer.  Im usually a really positive person.  One good part about coming to NYC was to see my sister that I had not seen in almost a year.  I had finally met one of her friends that I had only come to know through stories.  Melany was a pretty funny person to hang out with.  It was also nice to see some folks I knew that lived there.  I hung out with my PKI buddy, VInce, and enjoyed a four dollar PBR.  Also hung out with some friends I had met a few years ago during one of my earlier trips to NYC. 

New York was sort of a bag of mixed emotions.  While there was the fam and friends to hang out with there was also the ostentation that reered its big, ugly head.  It all started when I turned on the TV.  My sister has cable and so I tuned it to MTV and came across "My Super Sweet 16."  I nearly threw up in disgust.  The idea of throwing a gigantic party for your bratty 16-year-old just because they want you to made me want to punch these kids and their parents in the throat.  Dropping 100 or 200 THOUSAND dollars for a freaking party made me think, "Wow, look how many mouths you could feed with that and do some actual good."  Look how many people you could have helped.  Instead, you get to see a horrible parent-child relationship where the snot's demands control the parents.  This type of thing just rubs me the wrong way.      

After visiting my sister in NYC, I borded a plane to Houston where my brother-in-law picked me up and I walked into my sister's house to a surprised quartet.  My three nieces and sister were like, "Oh my goodness!"  I had the same expression after seeing how much my nieces have grown.  Things in the Houston suburb are a little slower than NYC, but I still had lots of fun.  I ate lunch at my nieces elementary school and then got invited back the next day to give a little talk about my trip.  During the past seven months, Skyler had brought postcards to her class that her uncle had sent to her from all around South America.  Now, she brought her uncle to class who had been all over South America.  It was fun to give a PowerPoint Presentation to the class and show off lots of fotos to the class.  The third graders really enjoyed penguin pictures as well as many of the nature fotos that I showed off.  It was lots of fun.  

So after surprising my two sisters it was time to surprise Ma and Pa.  What better day to do it than on April Fool's Day.  My brother Jonathan and I had this all planned out.  I showed up to the house and walked in.  My dad was at the kitchen table reading the paper with his back to me.  I gave him a little hug, looked over his shoulder and said "Hey, Pa..."  Pa kinda looked at me for a second with this quizical look, grinned, and was like "Hey...Big Guy!"  The surprise Ma had was even better.  She was in the shower, and no, its not what you think.  I talked through the door into the bathroom and said, "hey there, how ya doin, what's goin on."  But the thing was that she confused my voice for my brother's.  So I had to wait about 10 minutes before she came out of her room.  She was askin my brother to get ready whle she was curlin her hair and stopped in her tracks.  My brother and I were standing side by side and she kinda did a double take.  She kinda cried a little bit while giving me a big hug.  Recieving a a hug from my Mom was really special after a long time away from home.  Ma and Pa had a few more gray hairs than the last time I saw them.  I might have had a hand in that. 

Some of the things getting used to.  Hmm.  Ya know, it's the little things.  Things like having ice in your glass again.  Things like sleeping in your own bed.  Things like buffets.  Things like driving.  Things like hearing songs that you have not heard in a long time for the first time again.  It definitely has been an adjustment and I can see in some ways how people are the same and I have been the one who has changed.  I do a better job at thinking about what Im gonna say before I say it.  I do a better job at speaking a little slower and mumbling a little less.  I thought I had the travel bug out of my system after such a long trip.  But, following some of the adventures of the folks that I met along the through their travel blogs starts to build little itch to travel again.  Rafal was right, traveling is adicting.  My buddy Dean was right, it does change you.  

So now I am on the lookout for jobs.  It is time to grow up, move out, and make some sweet mouhla.  The feeling I get from some of these jobs that I am applying for is that I will get stuck back in a cubicle for the rest of my life and never get to travel again.  Seems kinda intimidating.  Just gotta find the right job that will let me do some international travel on their dime.  If I could get a job using my Spanish, too then that would be even better.  

 

Holy smokers, this has turned into an marathon journal entry.  It's like 4am and Im still wired.  Well, I think im off to bed. 
Dont worry, there will be more to come.  Random stories that I think everybody will like.  jp

It's Election Time in Omaha! That reminds me of a time when.....

Today is election time in Omaha and this reminds me of the time in Patagonia when Chile was closed. 

Rafal and I had just finished a really cool hike to see the three massive Torres del Paine towers.  We hiked about eight or nine hours that day.  About half of the time was not so much a gentle uphill ascent, but more like a take five minutes ever 30 minutes of hiking because the hills you just climbed kicked your fanny.  We wanted to hike, not climb.  Anyways, we saw the three towers and then hustled back to the bus pickup point where we waited about 10 minutes for the last bus back to the city, Puerto Natales. 

When we got back to the hostel we cleaned up and headed out for a night on the town.  Nothing like going out and partying on a Saturday night at the bottom of South America with thousands of people.  Actually, Pto Natales is a pretty tiny town and we thought it was kinda odd that nobody was out at 10pm that night.  Things dont get started until late in South America but none of the restaurants were open.  And the ones that were open were shuttling people out and closing down.  The city center was like a ghost town with no foot traffic nor automobiles.  "That's weird," we thought.  Rafal and I tapped on some windows of restaurant owners who were closing up shop and asked them what was going on.  The store owner said that elections were tomorrow and any place that serves alcohol would close at 10pm, otherwise la policia would issue a stiff fine. 

Well, it was still Saturday night and we were still hungry.  Where can you go when you are hungry and thirsty when all the places that can solve that close?  We searched high and low before finding a gas station on the edge of town.  There, Rafal and I ate in sort of an unhappy and un-blithely disposition.  Service station hot dogs, Fanta soda, and chips do not count as a meal.  We returned to the hostel cold and hungry with our heads pounding from poor gas station junk food.  Bummer. 

The next day was not that much better, except for the hostel.  The egg, butter, and bread breakfast at the hostel was prolly the best thing we were gonna eat all day.  We hopped on a bus and made it Punta Areanas where we searched for a hostel and then waited for about an hour and a half for a little bit of pizza and a sandwich at the only restaurant open during elections.  The place was packed and there was only one waiter for the entire restaurant.  We felt bad for the kid and left him a good tip.  Still no real good food yet. 

Elections really do close everything down in Chile.  It is pretty impressive how the country has compulsory voting and the people got really excited about the presidential elections.  While Rafal and I were waiting for out food, the main drag in Punta Areanas was packed full with cars honking their horns and kids in the backseat waving flags in the air proclaiming their newly elected female president. 

Now every time that elections occur I will think about that weekend in Patagonia.  Yea, we didn't get a decent meal in two and a half days, but we got a few great memories and a new saying for the rest of the trip, "Dont go to Chile, it is closed for elections!" 

Well, I voted today.  Now it's time to look for a job.  Laters! - - - jp

Ask Yourself This...

When Was the Last Time You Did Something for the First Time?

 

I was in Bariloche, Argentina when I saw these words on a poster while eating at Hostel 41 Below.  It is such a simple question with a very thought provoking idea behind it.  To me the idea is about continuous improvement.  It's about learning new things, taking a chance, and seeing what happens.  Whether they go right or wrong is sometimes important, but it is a learning opportunity.  Questions like this motivated me to create another list in my journal detailing some of the things that have occurred on my trip that were newbies for me. 

 

In this life I think that people get way too bogged down with the everyday monotonous details, become apathetic, and forget about what is important when they take the eye off the prize.  What is important to me is The Fam, learning, and always trying something new.  So, while eating my yogurt and cereal I began to think and started right there to keep a little list of the firsts

 

Here are a few...

During this trip some of the things that I have done for the first time include...

• Just buying a ticket and going. 
• Getting there, with very little and being content with one space for a while. 
• Left the house for an extended period of time
• Learned how to create some delicious Mexican food without a cookbook
• Became pretty flexible with my time.  It was my money and I was like "im doin what i want"
• Seen extreme poverty
• Seen a South American soccer match.  They were all special!
• I have not had turkey on thanksgiving
• been proud to speak Spanish and not be self-conscious about it

More to come because im becoming tired. 

But just ask yourself the above question  sometime.

 

When Was the Last Time You Did Something for the First Time?

guess who is back!

you betcha!

im back...but ive been busy with all types of stuff do describe my latest adventures...
still to come...

• The elusive second Antarctica update
• how i surprised my sisters and nieces in NYC and texas
• how i surprised ma and pa on april fool's day
• what ive been doin since ive been back home

now, it is time for a dynamic duo party! Im Luigi and rafal is Mario...it's gonna be that good!

Surviving a Subway Pickpocket

Throughout my travels I have been pretty lucky to never have been a victim of any type of crime. 

 

I have only heard stories about people getting robbed/mugged/taken advantage of when they were not alert.  In Bolivia I ran into a guy I had met from The World's Most Dangerous Road bike ride who had been a victim of a pickpocket.  The thief spit on him, when the guy turned around to see what the deal was the thief had already taken his wallet and was escaping.  Losing your wallet sucks...but losing your passport is even worse. 

 

Hearing stories from other travelers about their bag with all their important documents being picked off when they put it down at a bar or left it in the hostel that didnt have any lockers was never too reassuring.  It always made you a little nervous to carry a lot of dough or anything nice at all because there is always someone out there that will steal it. 

Besides your passport, the worse thing you could lose would be your journal or your fotos of places you went to. That happened to two folks I met along the way.  Remo from Germany had his journal stolen after holding on to it and writing in it for eight months.  The Raj said he had a gun pointed to his head in Buenos Aires and lost some fotos and his journal back when I met up with him and some buddies for Christmas. 

 

It shakes you up when stuff happens like that.  Yea, insurance will reimburse the cost of your camera...that is no big deal.  Losing a journal and other personal effects that are impossible to replace is what really gets ya.  It's what makes you really angry. 

 

This almost happened to me on the last day of my trip in Buenos Aires. 

 

Here is how it went down.  My last day in BA was a busy one.  Busy getting last minute gifts, getting receipts for the Global Refund, picking up the suits I purchased, writing just a few more postcards, getting one last steak, picking up laundry, and saying goodbye to some of the folks that I had met there.  So my mind was a little preoccupied with all the stuff that I had on my list. 

 

I was in the subway heading back to the hostel around 130 in the afternoon.  It was pretty packed in the subway as I filed in and stood there.  I waited and people watched as the stops passed by.  I used my left arm to hold onto the above railing and had the other hand in my right pants pocket to prevent any foolio from reaching in and snaking the cash that I had in my pocket.  The top of my Arcteryx Bora 80 backpack can detach and become a fanny pack.  It is a very convenient way to stow your journal, a camera, your iPod, and a coupla other things in there because it is small, light-weight and portable.  I positioned the fanny pack strap over my left shoulder and the bag rested on my chest and slightly underneath my armpit.

 

The subway was boring, noisy, non-air conditioned, and packed.  I was zoning out and doing to some people watching when it happened.  About 10 or 15 seconds before the subway car stopped, the doors would open and people would rush in and out I glanced at my bag from the corner of my eye.  What was weird was that it was about halfway open and there were two fingers.  "Holy Shit!" I thought.  I turned quickly and shoved the decently dressed guy in his 20s into the car's wall.  That got the attention of  everybody on the subway car.  A huge gringo pushing a guy and yelling in a loud and booming voice "Porque su mano estaba en mi bola!!!!...Te vi con su mano en mi bolsa!!!!"..."Why is your hand in my bag...I saw you with your hand in my bag.  The only thing the guy said was "No hice nada"  ( i didnt do anything) in a mumbled voice.

 

The subway car stopped, the doors opened and I followed the guy down the subway platform.  I look back and chuckle because I didnt bump into anybody exiting the car this time (which is unheard of during peak times), everybody got out of the way of the 250lb gringo as I began to yell and draw lots of attention to this asshole.  He made his way down the platform towards the crowded escalator.  When I confronted him again at the escalator he did an aboutface and walked back up the platform he just came from towards the train coming in the opposite direction.  I was full of shock and anger.  WTF!!  I looked into my bag...iPod? check.  Camera? check. Journal? check?  Passport inside my journal? check. 

 

There was an Argentinian that stopped and helped me out.  He asked if any of my stuff was missing (none was) and if we should goto the police.  Since none of my stuff was missing and I needed to get to the tailor to pick up my suit I decided to let it go and catch the next train. 

 

Assholes like that piss me off.  When jerks take advantage of tourists or other folks, it builds an anger in me. And You Dont Want To See Me Angry!  I was trying not to think about what happened the rest of the ride back to my hostel and to the airport later in the day.  But it was hard not to think about it..."What should I have done differently?"  "Should I have hit the guy?"  "I could have really hurt him, why didnt i get a shot or two in?" "Why was I not paying attention" "Did I push someone who didnt do a thing?"  All these things were running through my head for a while. 

 

This was probably the only unpleasant experience that I have had during my whole trip.  And it sucks to have a memory like that.  Yea, there were taxi drivers that took advantage of me and maybe charged a little too much.  But nobody has tried to rip me off with out my acknowledgement.  I hope nobody gets to run a guy like this pickpocket.  It just ruins your day.  So watch your stuff when you are traveling because it will happen when you least expect it or when you put your guard down. 

Im Back Home!

ok, folks

 

just finished up my whirlwind South American Tour and i am now sleeping in my own bed tonight...

 

cant believe that the trip is already over and Im back in otown...

 

so much to do...so many people to see...finally get to hang out with the fam and sleep in my own bed. 

 

wait a minute...what day is today?

 

April First you say? 

 

That's Right...APRIL FOOLS!!!!!!!

 

 

ha ha ha ha ha ha ha !!!!!!!!  T-Minus Nine Days!!!!

A note about Argentinian radio...and a bit of ranting

so after that last blog entry I thought I would write about something a that I enjoy about Argentina...it's a little note about my enjoyment of Argentine radio mixed in with a little ranting about Omaha radio.   

 

so listen up...

 

The music they play here in BA, it's great!  It is such a departure from the music that you get stuck listening to back in Omaha.  I cannot stand Omaha radio stations.  They say one thing and do another.  They promise music variety but then conform to the vanilla norm.  The music predictibility makes you wanna do the same thing to your radio that Michael Bolton, Samir, and Peter did to the printer in "Office Space." 

 

Back in Otown, all radio stations are so narrowcasted that it drives you nuts.  Here's how the narrowcasting works.  A bunch of guys with pants that match their suit jackets and who live in a bottle get together and say, "Well, let's play and play and play and play these 10 or 15 songs because that's what we think people like."  It's really not what is good nor what people really like.  Then all the radio stations turn around and say, "We promise our listeners the greatest music variety in Omaha."  However, they have never really delivered on the variety.  Listeners really do want music variety.  Even 89.7 The River which proclaimed to promote music variety a coupla years ago and actually did play some good music has now fallen into that same boorish groove of overplaying songs that are popular for one month and then never heard from again.  All the stations play the same two songs by DMB, Green Day, U2, etc, etc, ect. 

 

Fellas, c'mon, there are alot of good songs by these artists...U2 has more than two songs. 

 

Omaha FM radio is not bad...compared to something that is terrible.

 

That is why I have really come to enjoy Buenos Aires radio.  It is the real music variety that appeals to me.  The radio offers a little something for everybody.  In one hour you can hear a little bit of the 80s punk rock like The Clash, or other English rock music like Coldplay, The Verve, Rolling Stones, or Oasis.  Other artists include REM, Blur, Led Zeppelin, and Gorillaz.  Heck, they even played The Blues Brothers' Sweet Home Chicago after playing a double play from Bob Marley before mixing in some Shania Twain.    

 

Another great thing that I really enjoyed about radio down here is stations play lots of cuts from a single album.  Radio stations back home will play one or two songs from the entire album and forget all of the other songs.  This stinks because every album has got some great songs on it.  

 

Buenos Aires radio stations even play live versions of songs by great artists.  These are the versions that we never get to hear back in the States.  The idea of music down here is to play what is good, not to overplay it, and play live versions.  Live versions is where you get to really here what an artists is like.  REM or Rolling Stones, or even Jamiroquai have live performances and remixes that never make it onto the airwaves back home.  I was in BA when The Rolling Stones and U2 came into town.  What I couldn't believe was that the radio stations would actually broadcast the concert as well as broadcast the live tracks after the concert was over.  That would never happen back home. 

 

It's gonna be frustrating to come back home and hear these damn DJs claim how their music radio station is better than the next.  the truth is they are all cut from the same mold.  The same damn boring mold.  DJs in BA are not afraid to play any type of music and mix it up a little bit. 

 

So dear old DJs back in Omaha.  It is time to throw away that short play list and dig into some good music...use guidebooks and whatnot to help you out.  It is scary...but be original.   

 

Goto Sokol for a concert or two.  Play some of the artists that come to town before and after they come to play.  Be original.  There are some great artists that come through town that people would be interested to hear. 

 

At least there are some radio stations in BA that broadcast over the Internet, that will make the adjustment a little easier as I come back home. 

 

i now step down from my soapbox. 

Sabes porque, amigo? Por que eres...

As you travel there are things that happen. Things you just remember. People you remember. Events you remember.

I have this page in my journal that is ripped out. Now, I never rip out any page in my journal because I value those blank pages. I like to keep them and fill them out with ideas, experiences, thoughts, and random ramblings.

There is a weird story about this ripped out journal page that I have and am writing about. This blog entry is about a guy I met in the Plaza Independencia in Santiago, Chile. A bum. A guy who had nothing. A guy who really opens your eyes to how lucky you really are. I wrote on the back of the journal page that I ripped out for him after our encounter.

So here goes.

There are lots of benches to sit on in the Plaza Independencia in Santiago, Chile. Plaza Independencia's are town squares. The cathedral as well as important government buildings border plaza independencia's in South America. The Plaza Independencia is the main place where people to gather and enjoy the day or evening while talking, playing chess, or whatever. There are lots of trees, benches, a statue or two, and lots of folks taking a break between commitments. Its a great place to relax, do some people watching, and write in your journal. It was a very nice night back in early March so I decided to take a seat on one of the many benches and eat some pasta salad with beef strips on top that I had purchased at the grocery store after touring three museums that day. The beef strips in the salad were excellent, but the pasta salad with cilantro was not a choice combo that I enjoyed. Just a bit too much cilantro for me (had a bad experience with cilantro in Mexico). So there was a little bit of peas, corn, some pasta, and cilantro in my little portable dish that I was not going to eat.

In South America Ive become accustomed to taking whatever I dod not eat and giving it to bums on the street or whatever. No sense in throwing food away when someone else can eat what you dont eat. And giving food to someone is always better than giving money. This was a great idea that I learned this from a crazy liberal lady I met in Cusco, Peru. So I saved this to-go platter for any bum that would walk by and ask for some money.

Then this homeless guy walks by. He sticks out hand and asks for "una moneda" (some change). I shake my head and hand him the to-go platter with a fork inside it and then continue to write in my journal. Most bums usually take what you give them and move on. Or Ill be walking along and hand it to them. There is usually no more than a "gracias" exchanged. Well, this time I was sitting down when I handed it to him. So this guy sat down. And he sat down right next to me. He received the salad with open hands and then sat down. I was surprised that he used the fork I had expropriated from the KFC down the block. Two fork fulls later he lifted the to-go platter up to his mouth and wolfed down the peas, corn, pasta, and cilantro as fast as he could. I expected him to leave after that, but we started to talk. He talked, I nodded. It was very difficult to understand him through his mumbled words and I saw that he didnt have any teeth. The odor was repugnant. We sat side by side for about 20 minutes and thought a few different things to myself like, "What is this guy teaching me?" or "Wonder what I can learn about him?" and "I hope this guy doesn't try to hurt me or make some type of move on me." It was tough to sit next to this guy and listen to him. I was trying to be as helpful as possible but was a little jumpy (more jumpy than usual). I tried to make eye contact with a coupla people that walked by, I was trying to find a way out. Someone offered the bum a cigarette and thought that was just great. I was pretty worried that he could go nuts and burn me or something. Crap. I was alternating between worried and not too worried because he would say to anybody that walked by and point to me, "Amigo, aqui hay un caballero" (friend, here is a gentleman) I never felt in danger but didnt feel safe either.

This was just a weird night. Throughout the whole conversation he would say "Sabes porque, amigo...Por que eres caballero (or whatever)" I felt I really needed to get out of there. It started to get uncomfortable. He saw my journal and asked for a piece of paper and pen. All I had was my journal and so I had to rip out a page and offer it to him. He wrote on it "Te Quiero, Amigo" I believe that he was expressing his thanks for the food and time i offered to listen to him. It was just kinda weird. He offered his hand and I shook the grimy hand, looked him in the eye and told him that it was getting kinda late and I needed to get going.

Suddenly he stood up and in a low voice that grew louder as he grabbed his belt area up and down and said "Amigo...amigo...oh, amigo...) I left pretty quickly after that because I really had no idea what was gonna happen after that. Wasnt too sure if he was gonna whip it out or use the restroom right there. Ya just never know. "No tengo plata, ya te auyde, che" ( i dont have any money, i helped ya already, bro). That is when I left and walked home.

What I really got out of this encounter is that it's saddening to see people who have absolutely nothing. People who hafta beg for your spare change. People who dumpster dive for cans to recycle or for scraps of food to eat. They are at rock bottom.

This encounter really drives home the message that you should be very happy with the things you have. Family, friends, a roof over your head, and a little bit of change in your pocket. Stuff we take for granted are the things these people dream of. It makes you feel very thankful for the people around you in your life and the things that you have. Every time you get down on yourself or are feeling like nothing is going your way you should remember that there are people who have it worse. A lot worse.

So here is the little call to action portion of this blog. Why not take some time out of your schedule and help someone out. Instead of going out to the bar or getting a nice meal, use that money you would have spent and donate it to a shelter. Don't have a lot of dough, then donate a coupla hours every week/month. Im pretty sure that you will get more out of your time doing this than just going to the bar and people watching.

Hangin with JC for an afternoon and then up to Sugar Loaf Hill

Hey there, folks...

more exciting times from Rio de Janeiro. This place is a city of contrasts...you have very rich people next to some of the worst slums imaginable. Slums where people live day to day and dont know where there next meal is coming from. Life really doesn't make any difference to these fellas.

So I stayed out of that area and stuck to the touristy areas of Rio. I am a Lonely Planeteer here in Rio. Not speaking the language really cuts back your ability to meet people and makes ya kinda feel a little helpless. Hand movements, pointing at maps and the goodwill of strangers help ya make it through the day. That's what Ive been doing during my time here in Rio.

A coupla days ago the sky finally cleared and a perfect view of Cristo was seen from the beach and everywhere in Rio. I took the ol 538 bus to the foot of Mount Temptation which is the home to Christ the Redeemer. Also known as Cristo. I call him JC. The bus cost me about two Reals and I was in luck because this time I got an air conditioned bus. Sweetness. The ride takes about 45 minutes and winds its way through the bustling streets of Rio. Bus drivers are pretty much the same here in Rio as they are anywhere in South America. No matter where you go in SA the conductors are gonna drive the hell out of that bus. You better hold on or you will get tossed around like a cheap suitcase going through customs and the baggage handler is having a really bad day. These guys jostle for position, run red lights, grind the gears until the find the one they one they want, make stops, and converse with the copilot taking change from the passengers taking your money at the door. I made my stop and was glad to get off near the tram station at the bottom of the mountain. The tram station that takes you to the top to see JC is surrounded by taxi drivers wanting to get your money and take you up there themselves. The taxi cartel charges you the same price and tells you they will take you to another lookout point for the same price as the tram, but I wasn't too interested because any yahoo can have a taxi and print out some pictures of where they are gonna take you. Just didn't get a warm fuzzy from some of those fellas. Now it would make sense to have a small little bus that takes the tourists up the paved road leading to JC, but that would put the tram out of business. I went with the train company to see JC and paid my 36 Reals for the 10am ride. All the seats on the tram were made for people around 5' 4". Reminded me of some buses in Bolivia and Patagonia, not the most comfy but it was only a 25 minute ride to the top so it wasnt too bad. We get to the top and disembark the tram. I take my time and hang back because I wanna get a foto next to it and next to a sign that says "Welcome to JC..etc" Around me people are jostling for position to get on the elevator that'll take them to the top. relax, folks, JC is going nowhere, you don't hafta be the first one on the elevator...

I get off the elevator after a coupla minutes waiting my turn and walk a few steps and look up. This statue is HUGE! I dont ever remember seeing something so large in front of me. The statue literally takes up your whole field of vision, it is that profound and that large. The guidebook said that it is around 38 meters tall and has a 36 meter wingspan. It's right. To get from the elevators to the foot of JC you need to take two escalators. I hopped on and got a great view of the city and a up close and beautiful view of JC when I got off the escalator. The view of Him and of the entire area was spectacular! The entire city of Rio sat right in front of us and reached out in every direction. One view had Maracana, the gigantic soccer stadium that I visited last Sunday. Another view had the spectacular stretch of sand composing Ipanema, Copacabana, and then leading to the 1000 meterish tall Sugar Loaf Hill. The view around 11am was a little hazy but things cleared up as I was leaving around 2ish. JC was a sight to see. It is much different to actually see it in person than to see it on the postcards. The statue is very simple and elegant.

And now to the folks that I met. To get a really cool foto of you and JC doing the wingspan thing you need someone to lay on the ground and take the foto from. It's pretty hard to go up someone and be like..."ummmm, can you take a foto of myself and JC? And could you lay down here on the concrete because I wanna get a really good shot." Naw, ya just dont do that to folks. So what I did was wait for someone to lay down and do the ol' "umm, while you're down there...would you mind?" routine. I found a coupla Americans that were traveling around the world and who just so happen to be laying down in the place i needed and were snapping a foto or two. Ben from Seattle was more than willing to help me out. It's not common to find Americans traveling for such a long time, Ben said that too when we struck up a little conversation about our travels. So I gotta give a thanks to that guy for taking a minute out of his schedule to snap a foto of a kid from Nebraska. Thanks, Ben.

Leading 15 meters from the feet of JC is a pathway, a staircase, and a viewing platform. You can stand on the staircase and have someone snap a foto of you from below and get a really good foto of yourself and JC. The only problem is that everybody will be in your shot because it is such a small space with so many people. Supersaturation. It's a supersaturated plot of land with camera crazy tourists. Most people wait their turn, stand on the staircase for a coupla seconds, snap the foto of them with their arms out or raising the roof or whatever and then they are done.

However...this is one of the problems with digital cameras; you have a massive memory card so you can snap unlimited amounts of fotos. Lots of folks may have huge memory cards but forget to use their own memory and manners when taking a foto.
Which brings me to That Girl. That Girl was the ladytype who actually stood on the steps of Cristo for a good seven minutes while EVERYBODY was waiting for her to get down. People began to crowd, get anxious, and kinda cranky. What I really wanted to do was just stand right in front of this girl to get a good foto but decided otherwise because that would prolly just delayed her from getting down from the stairs. In the end I got a good foto and hopefully That Girl got one as well.

Standing at the feet of JC on one of the most recognized icons in South America was pretty cool. It was a great time to just stand up there and look at Him and then down at the city below. Around 2pm the weather on top of Temptation Mountain was getting pretty darn hot. The sun was beating down and there really is no shade on tops of mountains. It was time to head back down and enjoy a nice Skol beer. I got back down, had a drink, and then hopped on the bus. I was debating whether or not to goto the Sugar Loaf Hill or just catch a nap back at the hostel. Going back to the hostel meant having to interact with Private Dead Puppies Gomer Pyle. Going to Sugar Loaf Hill meant a lot more than dealing with that knucklehead. So I opted for the Sugar Loaf and took two buses to get there.

Sugar Loaf Hill is another one of the icons of Rio. It is roughly a 1000 meter high hill with very steep granite walls that really prevented anybody from accessing it for a long time. Then someone had the idea of installing a cable car from one side to the other. This gave people a great view of the entire city of Rio. It was even featured in the James Bond classic Moonraker where Jaws as the movie's antagonist. The cable car ride up was spectacular. It was a ride where the view kept on getting better and better. Being the joker and kid at heart I decided to kinda jump and make the car kinda wobble a little bit. One girl didnt think it was too funny since she was scared of heights. whoops...But we ended up talking a little bit after that and she was one of the few Israeli girls I have met and actually got to talk to that wasn't traveling in a massive group. That's just something you don't see very often.

The top of Sugar Loaf Hill had a splendid view of Rio de Janeiro. The Rio harbor and business district was viewable from right side of the cable car house. Ipanema, Copacabana, a series of small mountains and JC were what you saw on the left side of the cable car house. Both sides had a really unique view because the business district was all cloudy and overcast while the left side had the happenings of a gorgeous sunset. And it was. The sunset turned out to be a canvas of all sorts of pinks, reds, oranges, blues, purples etc...Only a poet could give you a better description of what there was to see that evening. The silhouette of the mountains and JC really contrasted the partly cloudy sky. Down below the city lights were flickering on all the way from the main strip along Copacabana to the Favelas (slums) up in the hills of Rio. It was one of those evening where you just sit back and relax and take it all in. It was worth the trip up to see the sunset.


I returned back down 730 in the evening and had to hightail it back to the hostel. I was to have dinner with two Argentinian guys from the hostel around 9ish and you can never tell when the buses are gonna be running. So I catch the 512 and start talking to two of the guys I met on the ride down. Roman and Jeremiah were two guys from Carnegie Mellon spending some time on spring break down in Rio. They kept on getting surprised by the number of backpackers they were meeting who were taking off six months or a year. I told them traveling does good for yourself. I said that I thought it helps you figure out what you wanna do and prepares you for the next episode of your life. (as corny as that sounds). You could tell they were pretty smart guys from the way they acted and how they never took whatever you said and one-upped it. They also never interrupted each other when we were talking. They got off the bus before I did and before I knew it I had missed my stop. Cities look alot different down here in the evening. I ended up in Ipanema and was like..."####, i just missed my stop." I didn't wanna be late for dinner with the Argentine fellas so I walked about 50 minutes back to the hostel and made it there for the 9pm dinner bell.

So that is whats been going on so far in Rio. Speaking of dinner bell, It is time to get some food. Laters.

Mullet Potential!

Well, I let my hair grow out for about two months or so and it looks like there is some mullet potentiality here.

The haircuts are pretty cheap here. Maybe I should throw down some cash and have one of the fine haircare places give me the mullet.

Now that is the kind of haircut that I should have when I start going in for those interviews.

yessssss!!!!!
jp

Rio de Janeiro Update

hello there, folks

Rio is a pretty different experience than all the other countries I have been to in South America. You really do feel like a tourist not knowing the local language, Portugese. It makes your world a whole lot smaller when you cant interact with folks on the street. Its kinda intimidating to go to a country and not know a single lick. But Im gettin by, slowly but surely...I know "please", "thank you", numbers, and try to throw some Spanish in there because its at least a little closer to Portuguese than English. Hand movements, pointing at maps, and a nice smile will get you where you need to go most of the time.

The hostel that I am staying at in Copacabana is a coupla blocks from the beach and the folks in the hostel are a little bit weird. Actually its the folks working in the hostel that are weird. One of the guys looks really similar to Private Gomer Pyle and he is always in a grumpy mood. A Dutch guy and I were talking about this at dinner. He noticed how surly and churlish Private Pyle was as well and was like, "If you are not a people person and are grumpy all the time, den why in de hell are you working in a youth hostel?" Good question. The Dutch guy was pretty cool. Yauger is a 25 year old artist who brought some fotos of his works. We sat down with an Argentine guy in the hostel over some pasta, wine, and beer and chatted. Good times.
Another guy staying in the hostel is pretty interesting. Olivier is a Canadian who speaks English, French, Spanish and Portugese. He has a curly hair-fro like Napoleon Dynamite, but that is about where the resemblance stops. We have hung out quite a few times and always have a good time talking about stuff. He invited me out last night to meet up with some Argentine and Brazilian folks somewhere in one of the Bohemian parts of town. This guy has been all over the place in Brazil and South America. He even told me about his hitchhiking adventure through the USA. I forgot to ask him if he made it to Omaha. I can prolly guess his answer "uhhhhh, we drove though it..." thats what everybody else says when they mention Otown in conversations.

So far the beach has been nice. There is a ton of inspiration at the beach. Some times you can feel a little self-conscious after seeing some guys with 12-pack chests. But then you feel alright after seeing a coupla fellas with dunlop disease. Im somewhere in the middle. I have the Taco John's stomach (Six Pack and a Pound). Ive walked up and down the beach and am still in search for that girl from Ipanema. Maybe she speaks Spanish or English. maybe...

So what does everybody think about when someone mentions Rio de Janeiro? Lots of folks think about Carnival, Copacabana, and JC. Well, today I planned to go up and see JC as well as the city below but it was 100 percent cloudy. Bummer. They say that it the weather is better in the morning, so ill give it a shot and get up early and then try my luck up there all day. I did get to catch a Brazilian art exhibit and might get to end up on local tv. There was a small group of folks there that were looking for tourists to film looking at the art. I obliged and did my second film appearance...man, im tellin ya, this film career is gonna take off, one of these days...one of these days.

A coupla days ago I got to go to Maracana, which is the world's largest soccer stadium and got to see some great soccer. It was a perfect night. Around 23 degrees and a great sunset in the background. There was one goal that we saw that was amazing...one of the forwards had his back to the goal and bounced the ball off his knee into the air and did a bicycle kick into the goal. Wicked sweet! The crowd when nuts!!!!
Maracana was the first stadium ive been to in SA that actually sold beer inside the stadium. And the beers are not like the ones in the states. These beers are your normal 12oz cans but are priced reasonably. Beers inside the stadium went for about three Reals and the Skol beer outside was two. Around a buck and a half or so. The food outside the stadium was great! Nothing beats some meat on a stick. And when you are kinda buzzing, it tastes even better!

The beer brings me to another thing that I really like about South America. Down here if you have your own cooler n stuff then you can just go to any sporting event and sell beer! This is great since you dont hafta pay for a license which raises your costs which is then passed onto the consumer. It is a free-for-all of guys selling beers at the game. Forget about open container laws because you can drink anywhere. Open container laws remind me about the time when my buddy Dan and I were coming back from the World's Most Dangerous Road. We stopped at a mini market in Coroico to buy some beer. We were at the bottom of the road and wanted something to tranquilize us a bit while making the WMDR ascent. Dan asked our guide, "Hey, Ian, are there any open container laws to worry about here in Bolivia?" Ian's response was like, "Bro, you can drive drunk here and never have any problems." He also said "Yea, we tell our drivers not to drink while they are on duty." That was nice to know.

The city is full of contrasts and this is what makes it really different. It is different than anything I have seen. For example, the number of folks begging seems to be more than what I have seen. It is always really tough to see folks begging in the street while you are enjoying a nice meal. Especially when kids beg. That is tough to see.

One thing that I have never seen that really makes me cringe is the amount of ladytypes on the street. These are not the type that you want to bring home to ma and pa. These are the ones that you dont even wanna make eye contact with. These are the ladytypes that inspired the hit song "Roxanne" The Police. It really creeped me out when Stan from Australia, Olivier from Canada, Marlyn from South Africa, and I all sat down at a bar. We ordered our drinks and kinda looked around. All of us are around 25ish and the rest of the clientele at both bars we went to along the strip in Copacabana were guys 20 to 30 years our senior. The ladytypes were not. They were younger than us and older than us. Im pretty sure that these guys were really interested in getting to know the girls' personality. That whole Roxanne type thing is just weird and not really the stuff you wanna get mixed up in. We discussed what drives these ladytypes to do this and what drives these men as well. Pretty interesting discussion. We all finished our drinks and walked home. On the way home we would get harassed by Roxanne and her friends. This was unbelievable! Getting harassed by the ones that have broader shoulders than you was also strange. You dont know whether they are chicas or chicos or whatnot. This was strange. Just dont make eye contact and walk briskly. That stuff gives me the heebie-jeebies.

Well, I think Ive cooled off from the 27 degree day here and will head back to the hostel to drink some wine and write in my journal. Tomorrow im gonna get up early for the sunrise on the beach and then head to see JC, hopefully without any cloud cover.

i made it...

well, i made it to Rio in one piece.

and it wasnt 70 hours like the guidebooks say. just a shade over 58 hours from Santiago to Rio. Just 58.

So i got in last night slash this morning and was like...do i go out or do i goto bed.

going to bed one. i took a long shower and scrubbed the three days worth of grime off me and am now gonna goto the beach.

i kept some notes about what what was going through my head during that time. i wrote down some stuff that i thought was pretty funny. funny to me anyways.

off to da beach and then to a soccer game tonight.

hope everybody enjoys their work week...suckas!!!!!!

oh bed of steel - - - be my winding wheel

hey folks

 

just a quick message.  Im on my way to Rio and am taking the scenic route.

 

Santiago to Rio will last about 70 some hours in the steel cage. 

 

yaowza!

La Vendimia- - - The Mendoza Wine Celebration

Greetings from Mendoza!

The first weekend of March in Mendoza, Argentina always signifies the beginning of the grape harvest festival. Mendoza is the home to some of the best wines in South America. La Vendimia is the symbol of the culmination of the agricultural labor and all effort it takes to produce a significant portion of Argentina's wine. Its a celebration of the fruits and labors that generations of Mendozians have invested into their city and country.

For a lot of people, its a big party. A few weeks prior to the big dance every district within the Mendoza province elects a candidate to be the Vendimia Queen. These girls are gorgeous and have their glamor shot all over the city. There is no Vendimia King. Friday night began with a big parade down San Martin Blvd, one of the main drags in Mendoza. Some things about parades - no matter where you go in the world stay the same. For example, lots of people crowd and cram their way to the barricades to see the elegant floats and the life sized paper machete figures. They jostle for position to see the people waving and maybe catch something the float participants toss into the crowd.

And that's when I noticed some large differences between the parades in the US and the ones down here in Mendoza. While there are kids clamoring for candy to be thrown their way in the States, there are people tossing (sometimes throwing) fruit into the crowd down here. No Tootise Rolls, no suckers, no stickers promoting whatever, no Jolly Ranchers, nada like that...Here are a few things that were thrown my way during the parade last night: Flyers promoting the Vendimia with little gifts attached to them (boring), grapes (appropriate), carrots, plums, apples, pears, eggplants (eggplants!?), bottles of water, boxed wine, small bottles of wine, even honeydew melons (no, really!) I caught egg plant but was like "ok, now what am i gonna do with this." The last float of the night was actually throwin MELONS into the crowd. Small honeydew melons! A quick note: Remember that Argentines are really good at football. This means they have soft feet. But they have rocks for hands. There hands are about as soft as a 3rd baseman's glove that is made by Al Kaline Steel Co. Nobody could catch these melons so you had to also watch out for the ricochet. The whole time I saw the spectacular I was like "are you kidding me?" and "when are they gonna throw some Tootsie Rolls?"

Being tall has some pretty decent advantages in parades, especially in South America where the majority of the folks are armpit size to me. I had a pretty good view of things six rows back. The only problem was that any time I would turn or reach for something in my pocket some unlucky person from Mendoza would get a elbow in the ear, nose, eye or whatnot. Sorry, perdón, disculpa, lo siento, aye! are all that I could say.

Each float was unique in the parade and each had lots of things in common. The primary thing that I noticed was the quantity of beautiful women on the float. Loads of them! And they were all like 19, 20, or 21...where in the heck were these ladytypes when I was that age? But there was one thing that I didnt not like about all these ladytypes throwing stuff into the crowd. If you were not one or two person deep in the line then you were out of luck. These girls couldn't throw. To tell you the truth, they throw like girls. Now if they were to kick the fruit and what not then I am pretty sure some windows would be knocked out.

Each float was better than the previous. And then there was That Float. The Float that I will always remember. I could not believe what I was seeing. It was a parrilla. It was a rolling barbecue pit. No, really!...There was a fire about 3 meters by one meter on the truck bed with several tiers. It had a roaring fire and was cookin some food for the folks in the parade. There were men that rotated the meat, some that cut the meat, prepped it with some bread, and then some that delivered it with a smile. That was... incredible.

And then there was the group of 10 Argentine guys next to me. You know how parents sometimes put their kid on their shoulders to allow the kid to see the show...well, these drunk group of fellas were doing that with each other. Except they were like 20 and weighed like 200lbs. They were competing for fruit and whatever with six year-olds. All the while they were drinking white wine out of honeydew melons. This continued for a good 90 minutes and well after the parade when I ran into them. The group of 10 were pretty funny, they invited me to a coupla bars after the parade. We got to hang out at some bars where there were absolutely no gringos at all. Loads of fun. Four of them who were in their own Metallica tribute band. We started to talk about heavy metal bands and they knew quite a few more American heavy metal bands than I did. Another cool thing about these fellas is that they had no fear in saying things to girls. Not talking to them, just saying things. This did help out when we saw a whole bunch of the girls from the float getting some ice cream...hello laaaaaydeeezz

Im gonna grab a steak. The steak here is good. Omaha Steaks - - -eat your heart out.

more about the festival and the wine bodega tours coming up.

My First Servas Experience

Last night was the first time I spent the night in some stranger's house. Now dont get the wrong idea. I actually planned this and was hoping to do this in order to practice my Spanish, meet some new folks, and save a coupla bucks. What can I say...going to Antarctica means that I cant stay at the Ritz all the time.

I am a member of an organization called Servas. Servas International is the world federation of non-profit, non-governmental national Servas groups. The Servas Groups are a network of travelers and hosts that encourage interaction and contact among people of all different ages, backgrounds, etc. One of its goals is to create a better understanding of all the different types of people there are in the world and potentially breakdown some stereotypes that people have of other people. The goals of Servas are accomplished through people opening their doors to complete strangers, welcoming them into their homes, and giving them a better idea what it is like to be an American, an Australian, a European, whoever...It also gives the traveler a better idea of what it is like to be an Argentinian, a Bolivian, a South American, whoever...it doesnt matter, people are people. Servas hosts do not expect payment of anykind except a thank you at then end of the stay.

I first learned about Servas from a Dean Jacobs. I learned about the Fremont, NE native when Michael Kelly published a column in the Omaha World-Herald about his two year trip around the world and the book that he had published called Wondrous Journey. I got a hold of Dean about a week after the column was published and he suggested looking into Servas. He said it was a great way to travel because the experience gave you a chance to potentially see what people in a country were really like and not through the typical touristy means. It gave the photographer a look at what life was like for people through a different lens. A look at what life was like away from the touristy areas of cities.

I was accepted into Servas before I left on my trip and yesterday was the first time that I actually took advantage of it. The host packet the organization provides gives a very brief summary of every host, their interests, languages spoken, and information on how to contact the host. I got a hold of Francisco Morón after I disembarked the 19 hour bus ride from Bariloche and asked for directions. Just a quick bus ride and I was there.

Francisco was my first Servas host and I was the 401st traveler he's received since he began doing Servas 30 years ago. Taking a nap was the first thing on my agenda, the 19 hours in the air conditioned steel box was gettin to me. After that we ate pasta he prepared and we showed pictures of our families to each other. It was then time to buy tickets for the Vendimia festival that is coming up this weekend. Francisco helped me get a ticket to the big spectacular that is going on this Sunday. Im pretty excited. One of the rules of Servas indicates that the traveler has the chance to stay three days and two nights and it is up to the discretion of the host to extend the stay. Francisco said last night over a beer and a steak that I could stay for four or five nights if I wish. I thought that would be great since getting a hostel during the wine festival is kinda difficult. The only potential downside that I do see is that Francisco has a little kitten that uses my backpack as a little jungle gym. It also uses my legs as scratching posts. It has scratched me a few times. I also have a little bit of an allergy to cats. I hope that the little kitty doesn't use my nice backpack as a scratching post the whole time im there and i dont sneeze all over the place.

Francisco's house is a nice little place that has about seven bedrooms between the actual house and the guest house. Stretching between the two homes are a series of long metal wires with a coupla grape plants dangling there fruit from above. On the patio sat some furniture with a four foot by three foot grill for the bbqs that he hosts for family and friends as well as many of the Servas guests he receives. A great place to just sit back and enjoy the weather while reading a book or writing a little bit.

Anywho...This little blog entry brings me to something that I have always had in the back of my head. What is traveling? Some people travel and only stay at hotels where everything is taken care of and think that is it. Some travel and just do the hostel thing and go to the clubs. Some only travel with another person and rarely talk with anybody else. Some only do what the Lonely Planet suggests and dont dare go out on a limb because thats not what the guide recommends or it doesn't involve drinking or loud techno music.

So what really is traveling? I think its whatever you make of it and gets you away from that little zone of comfort that you have when you are back home. Pushing yourself out of your comfort zone really makes you grow since you encounter things you are not used to and hafta deal with it. Your mind begins to work out ways to deal with the situation and come up with a solution. Many goals are accomplished this way. When you write it down on paper you see something in the present that has not been accomplished and your mind begins to work on ways to reach that goal. When you do reach it, you can look back and see how far you have come and what you have learned. The Servas experience has enriched my traveling since it puts me in a different situation that I am not used to. It also has given me the chance to just sit down over some Mate with your host and chat about all types of things. Francisco and I have lots of things in common that are important to us, even though we are on opposite sides of the planet and he's 50 some years my senior. Family, friends, travel just to name a few were things that we could sit down and talk about. He shared lots of his experiences traveling to Africa, Asia, Europe, and countries like Cuba, USA, etc...He showed me that he's a pretty normal guy and I think I showed him that Im a pretty normal guy and not like the stereotypical materialistic American that many people think we are. When I look back at this experience I think that it will help me because sometimes you can be too quick to judge and not look at things throught other peoples eyes. This Servas experience showed me that, yea, he's just like me except he uses another language to express his ideas. Maybe that is kinda deep for 4pm on a Friday afternoon.

i think im gonna grab a steak and write in my journal. jp

Bariloche Update

Im sittin in a nice little Internet Cafe and thought I would share some Bariloche experiences of last week. Im still working on that second Antarctica update...itll get on the net one of these days

Bariloche Fotos and More!

The 19 hour bus ride from Buenos Aires went pretty well. Gotta share with you some information about the bus system in Argentina. In the US we have only the Greyhound. In Argentina you have hundreds of bus companies. And within those companies you have a few options with the bus that you want to ride on. There is the airport shuttle bus type bus, the coche-semi-cama and then there is the coche-cama.

• The airport shuttle bus type are the type that are pretty uncomfy; for tall people at least. They were designed for just shuttling people back and forth from one area...small distances. However, these types of buses are the type that many bus companies use in Patagonia because they can take a beating much better than their bigger, heavier, and more comfier bus brethren...the semi-cama and the coche-cama. I had to suffer though a coupla these going to El Chaltén and Puerto Natales.
• The semi-cama is more like what you would find on a Greyhound...there is a little more space to stretch out, the seats go back a littlebit, there is a movie, and sometimes they serve food. Not too bad.
• For a few dollars more you can upgrade to the coche-cama. The coche cama is the airplane first class equivalent in the bus industry. The advantages of the cama is that the seats are only three across instead of four in every row. The seats nearly recline to the horizontal position. There are food services which bring you something that is halfway decent. Lots of space, baby! It really is like they take those first class seats they have in airplanes, put them into a bus while installing foot rests and making them recline...Laiiiiidddddd Baaaaack....It doesn't take much more to go first class...

I paid the extra eight bucks for the expresso coche-cama bus to Bariloche. It took 19 hours instead of the normal 24. Less time in an air conditioned steel box means a happier jp. I left a hot and muggy BA at 2pm and arrived to a cool and very windy Bariloche in the morning. Most overnight buses give you a great chance to see wonderful sunsets and sunrises. The scenery changed quite a bit over the 19 hours. Gone was the forever flat pampa and in its place was the rolling mountains of Rio Negro province and the gigantic Lago Nahuel Huapí.

Bariloche is a great city and has a great feel to it. In the winter time it becomes the home to many skiers from all over the world. Bariloche is known as the Switzerland of South America. And for good reason. There are lots of great places to snowboard, Nordic and downhill ski all over the place. When its not snowing there are still lots of things to do check out. I went on two day hikes the time I was there and really enjoyed both of them. The first hike began from the steps of my hostel up to a viewpoint of the entire city. It was alright but kinda began to rain on the way back. There was a ski lift to the top of the mountain but I didnt wanna pay the five bucks and thought the two hour walk up the mountain would do me some good. The views of the city were excellent and the lake beyond that were mighty fine. Brought my lunch with me and planned to eat it in the ski lodge but ended eating it on the steps since they were gonna charge me three dollars to sit inside and eat my own food. The wind was strong on top of the mountain so I found a calm place and lunched on crackers, cheese, and some fruit. Towards the West you could see the storm clouds forming and the rain falling. I took some more fotos and then made my way back to the city while getting sprinkled on lightly the whole time. A good hike that got me ready for the next hike.

Had to take a break the next day because I think I walked too much the previous day. No fun hiking when you are banged up.

The second hike was a full day of walking. Quite worth it! I began by taking a 30 minute bus from the town center to Catedral Alta Patagonia. There were a coupla folks from the hostel on the bus so we all decided to hike together. The Catedral gets its name from of the chorus of rocky pillars that look very similar to the spires found on tall churches. We forked out eight buckaroos to take the ski lift to the top of the mountain. The weather changed from nice to cold and windy on the 15 minute ride up the mountain. Glad I brought some layers. The weather initially looked kinda crummy from below because the top of the mountain was covered in clouds. Once we got up there we found that only one side of the mountain range was covered in clouds, the view of the ski lodge below and Bariloche in the distance were the only things that we couldn't see. The other side of the mountain had a spectacular view of the surrounding mountains and the valley that was a 1000 meters below. We snapped some fotos and got on our way. Our goal at 1030 that morning was to reach the bus stop where we came from and catch the 6pm bus back to Bariloche. To get there we took the scenic route and stopped by a refuge and a campground where hikers could rest and do some rock climbing on the impressive rocks that encompassed the refuge and the valley. Our trek lead us along the backside of the mountain where we frequently stopped for water and picture breaks. Hiking in Patagonia is alot like connect-the-dots. Since signs can fall or be stolen, most of the trails are marked with red painted dots that guide hikers. Pretty easy to do until some goonie gets the wrong idea and brings his own paint and starts painting dots all over the mountain. Our hike to the refuge brought us along the backside until we had to cut across the mountain and make our way down. To get to the Frey refuge we had to ascend and descend several tiers of rocky walls, walk along some winding rivers of glacier water, and around two big lakes of glacier water. Each lake was like the stage and the rocky walls surrounded it were like a giant natural amphitheater. I noticed some rock climbers on a huge mountain peak and gave a huge YOOOOOO!!!!! in a booming voice. I was kinda amused to hear all the echos of my voice bounce off the rocky walls. Kinda like that little toddler you hear in church who hears an echo and starts to make more sounds. Well, kinda like a toddler.

The view from the refuge was impressive in any direction. The two most impressive were the south side which had a view of a gigantic rock where the climbers were working there way up. The west side had a view of where we hiked down from. Wow...this is a lot better than the office. We rested at the refuge for 20 minutes or so before heading back on the trail. The only problem with day hikes is that you can never really stay in one space for very long because you always gotta get back to somewhere because it would be pretty uncomfy to be in the place you want to be without the right equipment. ie...stuff to keep you warm and fed.
The hike back was nearly all downhill. We passed through wildflowers and huge sections of bamboo forest as well as one side of the mountain that had been affected by a forest fire. We made it back to the bus station about 15 minutes before the bus and stretched and relaxed then napped on the ride back. A great day hike, baby...

I was on my way back from one of the many famous chocolate shops in Bariloche when I noticed something strange. It was a wheel...one wheel. What in the heck was a unicycle doing in Bariloche. Well, a hippie slash juggler was in town and making his way to El Bolson, a hippie hangout in Patagonia. He and his buddy had their doubts when they saw this tall gringo making his way towards their unicycle. This wasn't any normal unicycle that I usually ride. It was a giraffe. A giraffe unicycle is a uni with a really long neck and the operator can be pretty high off the ground. It took a little convincing and a little help from the fellas to get up on the unicycle but they were pleased to see that I could actually ride the thing.

a quick note on the unicycles. lots of people think you are gonna crack open your head when you ride a unicycle. I call shenanigans. You can hurt yourself a whole heck of a lot more on a bicycle than on a uni because you really cant go fast enough on a uni to do any real damage. That is not to say that you cant hurt yourself. I have had a coupla unplanned dismounts that left their markings on certain parts of my body. But nothing as bad as the time when my buddy Jesse and I saw a women do a Peter Pan over the handlebars on the Corporate Cycling Challenge a year ago. Now that was ugly...

Anyways, the time spent in Bariloche was great. Lots of nice people that I met and one or two that might stop in Omaha when they are on passing through. I get that a lot when I tell people Im from Omaha. "Oh, you're from Omaha...I drove through there once on the way to ..." I met one girl who was a forest fire fighter who said that, we got to talking and she promises to stop and have a cup of coffee when she's passing through.

Its time for a steak. laters

on the road again

on the road to the Mendoza Wine Festival...

 

but a 19 hour bus ride stands in the way...

Antarctic Summary - I

Along the way to Bariloche I was going through my journal notes and trying to figure out how in the heck am I going to describe this 14 day trip to my throngs of readers. 

 

Since this could take quite a while I will prolly break it up into a couple different segments. 

 

This first segment will be about

• my initial impressions of the ship
• what traveling on a cruise ship is like
• the crew
• the expedition team
• the folks that I met on the ship (lotta good stories here)

My initial impression of the Marco Polo were kinda skewed since the Queen Mary II dropped anchor three days prior in Ushuaia.  QM2 was absolutely massive!  It made the Marco Polo look like a cute little Fisher-Price tugboat you played with in the bathtub when you were a little kid.  But you gotta give the Marco Polo credit, it was a very nice ship.  The crew was great and the passengers were nice great as well.  Here are some quick facts that I pulled off the Orient Lines website about the Marco Polo. 

• Gross Registered Tons: 22,080 tons
• Length: 578.4 feet
• Beam: 77.4 feet
• Maximum Draft: 26.9 feet
• Number of Decks: 12
• Cruising Speed: 19.5 knots
• Number of Passengers: 850
• Number of Ship Personnel: 350
• Deck Officers Scandinavian
• Crew Filipino
• Social Staff British and American

The Marco Polo had all the amenities that you would expect for a world class liner.  Spa, Internet machine, formal nights, excellent live music, live piano bar with Bobby Reynolds, room service, exercise gym, swimming pool (closed at the moment), three jacuzzis, masseuse, multiple bars, disco, a massive dinner buffet, a more formal dinner seating, library, game room, casino, as well as so much more.  They even had ping pong and a waffle machine!  Every night on the Marco Polo there was something to do.  I'm glad to say that the Marco Polo has everything you need that conduces to comfort, convenience and enjoyment. 

 

The ship was great!  I was greeted by a barrage of "Hello, Sir!", "Welcome Aboard, Sir", "Good To See You Aboard, Sir."  All this Sir type stuff...I'm 26, man...I hope I'm not in the Sir stage of my life, just yet.  Before I could even take my backpack off I was warmly greeted by quite a few of the crew.  Lots of new faces and people to meet on this cruise.  As my buddy Rafal would say, "Looks like its time to make some new friends!!!"

 

The cabin I stayed in was great.  The view of the ocean was not.  I was in an interior cabin with no view of the ocean.  I was not going to complain since the price was right and this was the first time in a really really long time that I had my own room to myself.  No dormitories, no sharing it with seven of my closest friends.  Just me.  This was Xanadu!  I had my own safe, shower, fresh towels, toilet, sink, bed, drawers and there was a nice Marco Polo parka waiting for me when I returned from my cabin after dinner.  Another cool thing was that the cabin stewards actually prepped your room all during the day.  In the morning they were there to clean it up, make your bed, whateva...in the evening they were there again to prep your room for nighttime.  Each cabin even had its own little nightlight right behind your head as well as two switches; one to turn off the nightlight and the other to turn on the main cabin light in the morning.  I even had a TV and a phone to call room service.  Going back to the hostel was gonna kinda tough. 

 

Some of the things that I found interesting included a guy that would play the xylophone when he would announce dinner at the Seven Seas restaurant.  Most of the time he would play something pretty basic and then top it off with " shave and a haircut...two bits." Another thing that I thought interesting was that everything on the cruise ship seemed alot like daytime television.  Everything started and ended at their specified time.  No program ever started early and nothing ever went over the allocated time.  This was hard to get used to since I had been accustomed to things starting whenever in South America. 

You gotta tip your hat to the crew on this ship.  The crew that really got things done was composed of Filipinos.  I kinda got the feeling that the name tags were really not their real name.  C'mon, how many Filipinos do you know named Tony, Derek, Bob, James, David, Phillip, Drew, and Trent.  Me thinks they use a nickname so people will be able to pronounce it a little easier.  Anyways, I gotta talk about Mario.  Mario was my cabin steward and always greeted me with a "ahhhhh Hello Miieester James, how are we this morning"  "Enjoy your day, Miieester James!"   A very nice guy and a funny guy to talk with.  I taught him some American slang.  "Its all good," "now THATS what Im talkin about," and "Im pickin up what youre puttin down" are some of the phrases that I taught him.  Gotta hand it to Mario, that guy worked really hard and was a busy fella with all the cabins he took care of.  Mario really came in the clutch when I asked if he had any boots for the shore expeditions in my size.  He came back with four pairs and one of them fit great!  Hey, this guy was alright with me!

Other members of the staff and crew had different rolls.  Some were responsible for the ship, some were responsible for the food, some were responsible for entertaining the guest.  The staff that entertained the guests were a diverse group of folks.  A comedian, an action comedian, a singer, four male and female singer/dancers, a dj named Suger, a magician named Ricochet, and a chellist nicknamed Chel-lowww - who prolly coulda made money on the ship from the way she danced during the late night disco danceoffs.   

Meet The Expedition Team with Expedition Team Leader, Allan Morgan.  This meeting gave all the passengers on board a chance to learn the faces and a little bit about each of Antarctic experts that would enrich our Antarctic experience.  Speaking to each of these members during the 14 days really revealed a lot about them: why they chose Antarctica, what made them choose this type of profession, funny stories they may have to share, etc...

The team was quite an interesting bunch, especially Alan.  It consisted of:
Alan Morgan – Expedition Team Leader
Dr. Neville Jones – Expedition Ecologist
Mary Lou Blakesley – Expedition Marine Mammalogist
Christopher Wilson – Expedition Ornithologist
Dr. Marco Taviani – Expedition Geologist

I gotta say that Alan Morgan had the crowd informed as well as entertained.  Cracking jokes like "Folks, im not gonna lie to ya.  There really are only two types of penguins - - - black ones and white ones." When we were visiting a private island on the Falkland Islands the owners invited everybody for tea and cake.  Everybody thought Alan was joking when he said.  "The island owners are expecting us...Morgan - Party of 495."  This guy was great. 

The other experts gave some really informative lectures on marine mammals, birds, icebreakers, and diving in the Antarctic.  As I said before...never a dull moment on the Marco Polo.  Oh, and one of the Expedition Team members was incredible at ping pong.  I played this 50 year old member of the team and got just hammered.  That women had a punishing backhand!

The folks that I met on the ship. 
Wow, lots of good stories here.  The ship had about 500 passengers on board and I was really excited to speak with some people other than backpackers.  It was nice to meet some people other than backpackers for a while.  This experience added some perspective.
Here was a little breakdown on the type of people on the cruise. 
Within the backpackers there were quite a few types:
A coupla Americans, a coupla Aussies, a few Japanese, a lot from England, and an impenetrable socially restricted patronage of Israeli backpackers.  Within the rest of the passengers there were lots and lots of Americans, a handful of Argentines, and Europeans.  Just about all of the non backpackers were retirees with the means to afford a trip like this. 

I met quite a few of the non backpacker crowd and it was a delight to get to know some of these folks.  Since I really dont have an qualms about meeting new folks and everybody on the cruise seemed to be in a good mood, I thought I would go up and introduce myself to as many folks. 

The first folks that I met were two retired flight attendants named Jackie and Janice.  These two women were a riot to hang out with.  I first met them when I was waiting in line for the Seven Seas Restaurant.  They did not have their table number with them and I was like "Im sorry, ladies.  Ya gotta have the card with you or they wont serve you."  We ended up talking off and on the entire cruise and solved quite a few of the worlds problems over the martini happy hour.  Really nice ladies...and they even promised to introduce me to their young and tall Italian friend back in Boston.  Awww Right!

I also met two folks that are from California and are living in good ol Lincoln, Ne.  Sandra and Rob were a nice couple and fun to talk to about all sorts of things. 

Then there was a nice old man named Luther.  Luther is a bachelor from Arkansas City, Kansas and was visiting Antarctica for the first time.  I noticed him eating alone during tea time and thought I would join him for some coffee and conversation.  Luther was a great guy to talk with.  Our conversations over the two weeks were speckled with tidbits of advice he accumulated through his life as a business owner. It was nice to sit back and relax with him.  I tried and tried and tried to buy him a drink whenever we met for our 530 cocktail hour, but he would always say "nope, nope, nope...I have senority."  I guess when you are 88 you can say that to just about everybody.  I exchanged addresses with Luther and am gonna drop him a postcard at my next destination. 

Then there was Sid.  Or as I like to affectionately call him, "Thats Nothing Sid."  Sid was the type of guy that no matter what you say he would bring the conversation back towards him.  This is alright once or twice...but every single frigging time!  He was very much into the oneupmanship and being annoying.  I met him the second day of the cruise.  Here are a few examples of our conversations.  They kinda went something like this. 

"Soooo, youre a backpacker, ehhh?"  "Yup."  "So, you traveling with one backpack, ehh?"  "Yup."  "That's Nothing...my wife packed two suitcases for me.  Half of one of the suitcases has my sleep apnea machine, the other is clothes.  And canya believe that both suitcases weighed exactly 50lbs each...The folks at the airline thought this was really strange so they weighted them twice on different machines."  "Yup."

Another conversation went like this...

"Sid, would you mind taking a foto?"  "Why sure, what are you shooting in?" "Uhhh four megapixals...Fuji, point and shoot.  That's all I can afford."  "Thats Nothing!  Im shooting in RAW."  "oh, ok...say whiskey!" snap...

And then another conversation when like this...

"So your from Nebraska, right?"  "Yup."  "Where didja goto school at?"  "University of Nebraska at Omaha, Sid."  "Oh, man...why didnt you goto a real school?"  Gee, thanks, Sid. 

That is when I quit talking to this guy.  I cant stand that type.  Now, I didnt goto the most prestigious university, but I did go to a pretty decent college.  I also paid my own way through both undergrad and grad school while being active in my community and playing college athletics.  I think I did alright.  Three conversations with this knucklehead was enough.  I wanted to tell That's Nothing Sid that I paid 20 percent of what he paid, but didnt have the heart to ...I prolly shouldove.    

 

Another fun guy to talk to who would just talk your head off was Loud Jaime.  The reason I called him Loud Jaime was because he was similar to Will Ferrell who played Jacob Silj on Weekend Update.  Jacob Silj had the Voice Modulation problem and could only speak in a loud monotone voice.  This was Jaime, he could be whsipering and you could still hear him two tables down.  Jaime was a wedding fotographer and loved to talk about cameras.  When he saw mine he was like, "Thats cool, baby...as long as you get the shots you want.  Its not the camera, its the eye behind it."  He also told me some funny wedding stories and how his whole world changed when, "everything went digital and now everybody gets in my way when Im trying to take fotos at the wedding!"

 

I met a guy from San Francisco who was really cool to talk with.  John from SF had been all around the world and was genuily interested in meeting some of the backpackers and hearing some of their stories.  I was also interested in hearing some of John's stories.  He told me some great stories about climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro in Tanzania and going on safari in Africa.  Really cool guy. 

 

Back to the backpackers...lots of interesting folks.  The first im gonna mention is Claus from Denmark.  This guy had some really funny stories to tell about his adventures across the globe.  Claus is about to complete a goal of seeing all seven continents before he turns 25.  He also made a comment that it really doesnt matter where you travel to or for how long, the important part is that you go out there and do it.  Then see how it affects you.  It should be fun to see how things have really affected me when I return from my trip.

 

Gotta talk about two of the funniest and clever Aussies that I have met.  Cory and Josh.  Cory looked up to everybody and Josh looked down on everybody.  Only in the sense that one was really tall and the other was not tall at all.  They never really saw eye to eye since there was about a foot difference between them, but they definitely had the Woo going.  Im not talkin WuTang here, Im talking about Gallup Organization's Strength Finder.  The Woo strength describes people who "love the challenge of meeting new people and winning them over. They derive satisfaction from breaking the ice and making a connection with another person."  These fellas definitlely had it going.  They were also pretty funny.  I got to include a little note about Cory's iPod mix.  The Only When Im Drunk Mix had a little bit of everything and every song was a timeless classic.  He had anything from Michael Bolton's Time Love & Tenderness to a little Boys to Men to a little Robbie Williams to a little Wille Nelson.  All the songs were truly great songs and fit his type of personality. 

 

Now this was weird.  There was a backpacker from Virginia who I had seen a lot but never really got to talk to until the final days of the cruise.  His name was John.  Cory, Josh, John, and I were all walking to the Museum of Contemporary Art in Montevideo, Uruguay.  We were walking along and talking about all types of stuff.  I think we were talking about Lee from the night before.  You will all have a chance to learn about Lee from England a little later.  And then out of the blue John asks me, "James, are you an Eagle Scout?"  I was kinda like "huh?  Yea."  He said that he just could tell.  I thought that was kinda weird.  I guess it goes to show that it takes one to know one.  

 

Amber from LA.  Amber was traveling with her friend, Sarah.  Both girls were pretty fun to talk with.  Both had their feet planted on the ground.  Amber had some pretty good jokes for open mic night.  One of them went like this.  "A mushroom walks into the bar and orders a drink.  The bartender says he's sorry but cant serve mushrooms.  Thats when the mushroom stands up and says 'awwww, c'mon...im a fungi'" Get it.  Anywho.  A funny thing happened when I was just chatting it up with these two in Paradise Harbor.  I mentioned that I was from Omaha and Sarah mentioned she was kinda seeing somebody from Omaha...someone who went to that school in Omaha where they have that rich tax district.  Oh yea, District 66.  And I knew the guy she was talking about.  She was talking about Todd Chapman.  I was an outdoor education counselor with that guy way back in the day.  

 

Something else weird.  I was in the tender on the way back from the Falkland Islands and started talking to Alex and Phil from Arizona.  When I told them I was from Omaha they were like, "Do you know Drew Wietz?"  I was like, "yup, we hung out alot in 7th grade and a little in high school.  There is no way I could be a secret agent...I know too many people.  

 

English Pete.  English Pete was a guy in his 30s who sold a lot of what he had and has been on the road for around two years.  He had some great stories.  English Pete dances like Bob Dole.  Not in the fact that he's old or that his arm is hurt.  But for the fact that his left arm stays in a similar position that Bob Dole's right arm stays in.  When he's dancing that left arm stays really rclose to the body and just doesnt move.  Maybe he's just holding onto a pen or something.  I dont now why I think of this stuff. 

   

The Raj

This is a little section of my blog dedicated to The Raj.  The Raj is a guy that I met in Cusco and have traveled with and bumped into through Bolivia and Argentina.  This is the same Raj that pestered the hostel owner on the Isla del Sol in Bolivia to lower the price from 15 Bolivianos to 13 Bs. (Were talking 25 cents here!)  The Raj is an alpha male and definitely has the Woo with the ladytypes.  Whenever the backpackers would meet for drinks, there would be The Raj workin his magic on the ladytypes.  I think the ladies were suckers for his smooth English accent.  Since The Raj was pretty smooth with the ladytypes I dubbed his room The Raj Mahal and the name stuck.  So his nickname changed from The Raj to just Raj Mahal.  But Raj Mahal has two downsides.  Raj Mahal has this stereotype that all Americans are like the hillbillies on the Cahulawassee River in Deliverance.  Not every American is a hillbilly.  

Another funny story about Raj Mahal.  He really does know how to go up to any ladytype and talk to them about anything.  But the ladytype has to speak English.  The backpackers all went to the club when we got off the ship in Buenos Aires.  The Raj Mahal was feelin pretty good from the constant iv transfusion of alcoholic Marco Polos before we went out, but couldnt even get his foot in the door with the Argentine ladytypes.  Going up and saying "HOLA CHICAS!" over the loud din of club music wasnt workin for the Raj Mahal.  I was like, "Tranquilo, Raj. Tranquilo." "Aw, dont worry, big dogg...its just a numbers game with these chicas."  "But Raj, you only know words like 'cuanto cuesta' or 'bano' or 'cerveza.'  That didnt discourage Raj Mahal.  Nothing discourages the Raj Mahal.   

 

The Raj Mahal brings me to a little discussion about That Guy.  Every party or function you go to always has to have That Guy.  That Guy is the name that people talk about when remembering a party or whatnot.  "Bill, you remember going to that graduation party last year?  Do you remember That Guy who drank until he had to crawl to the bathroom?"  "Yup, I remember That Guy."  Being That Guy can sometimes be good but most of the time is not too positive.  That Guy on the Marco Polo was Lee from England.  Lee could drink and drink and drink.  He ended up being That Guy who tried to dance his way into the hearts and pants of any girl near the dance floor.  No girl was safe, even when they were mouthing the words "Help Me!"  The nights on the Marco Polo usually begin with people drinking in their rooms and then the bacpackers move to the Polo Lounge to listen to the Panio Bar play their favorite songs.  Things then move to the disco where Sugar plays some great dance music.  Lee claims that he doesnt remember the four hours after leaving the Polo Lounge, but we do have pictures to prove his whereabouts.  Lee was drunker than a fly in a bottle of gin.  Lee was a strong fella and you always hoped that he wouldnt grab you when you were dancing.  You see, nobody was safe from this dancing machine.  It was getting towads the end of the night and Lee decided that enough was enough.  No girl really wanted to dance with him, they just kinda put up with him and dodged his attempts for a little kiss here and there.  And then for some reason he reached for his belt, undid it and then, let his pants go down.  And then came the undies.  Not so much on the nudity on the dance floor, Lee.  We all turned away in anguish.  Guys just dont look good naked. 

 

Well, thats all i got right now folks...Ill send out another blog entry about the expeditions and what it was like to set foot on Antarctica. 

 

jp