Seven Months, One Stick Of Deodorant

No, the title does not have anything to do with the actual content of this post. While it IS entirely true, it is also irrelevant. I just thought I would use that little tidbit to draw you in. Cant quite argue with the results, can we? Aaaaaaaannnnnnyway.....

After six months of travel, being on the go all the time, riding a bus and sleeping in a different bed every few days, I decided to settle down. Well, for September at least. What better place than Arequipa, Peru's second largest city? I'm spending the month here being reintroduced to a little thing called routine. 

I've temporarily traded in the hostel life for a different model of living. Now, I've got a cozy little homestay set-up with, what I am convinced is, the nicest family in all of Peru. My adoptive family is absolutely amazing and I could not imagine a more perfect situation. 

One of the reasons I chose to set up camp for a bit is because it is important to me to get my Spanish dialed in a bit more. So yes, I'm back in school. As it turns out, when you actually take classes that you have an interest in, school is a pretty solid thing. But it's not easy. Four hours of intensive Spanish courses, five days a week makes my brain wish I had chosen the watch-paint-dry classes. In the end, I'm super glad I've given Spanish a legit shot and yes, I fully intend on adding it to my "known languages" on Facebook when this is all said and done.

Along with school comes schoolmates, and that translates into friends. I've got a great group of buddies now who also share the desire to beef up their language skills in the midst of their travels. We do normal friend things like go out to dinner, play fútbol, (the one with the round ball), go mtn biking, climb volcanos, and explore the world's deepest canyons. You know, normal friend stuff.

It's been fantastic to come home to the same bed every night. I love having a hot shower whenever I want. Something crazy happened and I even store my clothes in a closet just so I can enjoy the feeling of not living out of a bag. All good things. But even as wonderful as my new family, friends, and school are, I haven't quite got used to it. That whole routine thing hasn't really caught on for the long haul. I have to admit, I've still got the itch. No, not that one. The travel itch. 

It has become clear that with so many places to see and things to do, I'm going to have a hard time sitting still for long periods. A month here is the perfect amount of time. Then, I'm due to move on to the next adventure. And I can already tell, it's going to be one I never forget.

At the beginning of October, I travel back to Lima to meet up with two of my best friends in the world. We will fly deep into the heart of the jungle because it is inaccessible by car. There, we will build a raft out of a few trees and then participate in the longest raft race on this planet. Four days sitting on some sticks while powering down the Amazon with a pair of sexy men sounds like my kind of trouble. But I still can't figure out why one of the necessary items to have on board your raft is a machete......

Well, those are the events of the now and the not-so-distant future. 

Take care and may good dental health be with you.

Bus To Heaven

As you may or may not know, I was struggling to get out of Argentina for a bit there. So, I abandoned plans for Santiago and went North in hopes of crossing over into Chile via bus through the Andes and Atacama desert.

I set my alarm for 6 AM in hopes of catching that bus at 7. The following is an account of how everything played out.

At 5:59 AM I am awoken by a voice and a gentle nudge on the shoulder.

God: Mornin, Sunshine. 
Me: Um, hi. If you don't mind, I've got another 57 seconds to sleep. Wait, what are you doing here?
God: Did you really want to wake up to that terrible alarm beeping?
Me: Well, no.
God: So shut it off before it wakes everyone else up. Now get moving because I've got something to show you today.
Me: Alright, alright. But if you wouldn't mind not watching for a second, I'm sort of super nude under these sheets. 
God: Um, if you don't recall, I created you and know exactly what you're packin.
Me: Good point. Well then, feel free to feast your eyes on your handiwork. 

God looked over all that he had created and said that it was good. I proceeded to gather myself, my things, and get to the bus terminal. Caught my bus without problems, found my seat and sat.

Me: Here I am, on the bus as you suggested. Now what?
God: Now what? It's still dark out. Plus you've already seen everything around here. Go back to sleep for a while. I'll let you know when things are about to kick off.
Me: Oh thank God! I mean, thank  you. As you know, 6 AM and I don't get along so well.

So I slept for a couple hours. Then, I was awoken by a familiar voice.

God: Arise my son!
Me: Thanks, but I'm good right here.
God: Well, you know what I mean. Just wake up. The show is about to begin.

I look out the window to see nothing but a cloudy sky and rather dull landscape. 

Me: Ummmmmm, not to doubt your almighty powers or anything, but this sucks. 
God: Just wait for it.
Me: Fine, but just to warn you, I've seen some pretty amazing things on this trip. Things like Machu Picchu, Iguazu Falls, and there was that month in Patagonia. It's gonna take something pretty special to get me worked up. 
God: Oh ye of little faith, you're about to get your face rocked off. 
Me: Actually I'd rather hold on to my face. You did some good work on that piece too. But whatever. It's all you, Big Guy. Wow me.
God: I really appreciate your permission. Cuz thats totally what I was waiting for. Alright, so what say we clear this sky and give ourselves a blank canvas to work with?

Behold, I look up and there is nothing but blue sky and we are approaching the mountains. 

Me: I've seen a blue sky or two in my day. What else ya got?
God: Remember, it's a canvas. Now strap in. The next several hours are gonna get groovy.
Me: Groovy? Tehehe. God said groovy.
God: Ever seen a purple hill before? 
Me: Can't say that I have. 
God: Well check this out.

Indeed, around the bend was a purple hill.

Me: Actually that's pretty sweet.
God: You ain't seen nothin yet. Now how bout I throw some red in with that purple on the next one?

Behold. A purple hill with red streaks through it. 

Me: Beautiful!
God: Feel free to get your camera out, but just to warn you, any pictures you take just won't tell the story. 
Me: I understand, but I'd like to at least try and give the folks back home a hint as to what's goin on out here.
God: It's kind of a "you had to be there" sort of thing, but by all means, give it a shot. Now, how's about some green and orange action on the next hill?

The next couple hours of the trip were packed full of the craziest colored hills, mountains, canyons, and valleys I've ever seen. As we progressed, the intensity, quantity, and proximity of these blue, green, yellow, orange, purple, and every other colored features increased. At one point I looked over and saw a couple sleeping on the bus. I knew it was my duty to make sure they didn't miss the show. So I woke them and gestured to the landscape. They thanked me more than once. It was also about this time that I gave up with the camera. It wasn't seein what I was seein.

Me: Wow! Ok, I'm actually very impressed and loving every second of this. Thank you!
God: Oh this isn't all I got on the menu. We are just getting to a respectable altitude. Time to throw in some white to this concoction of colors. 
Me: Woah! Is that a frozen waterfall?
God: You can bet that pretty face of yours it is. Now, I know we aren't in Antarctica or in the Arctic up North, but I'm thinking this would be a good place for the only ice fields outside of those areas. 
Me: Wait, can you do that?
God: We are at 13,000+ feet in the most beautiful desert on earth, of course I can do that. Plus, you know, I am God and all, so that helps.

Sure enough, I get bombarded by ice fields, insane frozen sculptures, fantastic lakes, and of course it wouldn't be complete without some salt flats as well. Mix all that in with the colors of the surrounding mountains, and words fail to describe how absolutely epic and overpowering the scenery is. 

Me: I didn't even know this could all exist, let alone in one place. It's like you painted all this. 
God: Actually, I put a fresh coat on it this morning. Just for you.

Now let me just say something. I never cry. Like ever. Well, I mean there was this one time a long time ago, but we have worn out the statute of limitations on that one. 

Nevertheless, the magnitude of this scenery is so immense that the next thing I know, a tear escapes the blockades and makes a run for the southern border of my face. Then, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the window, and what I saw was the happiest person in the world. He had a massive smile on a face decorated by a glimmering tear or two. The emotion just couldn't be held in. I was overflowing with a gratitude and happiness unknown for quite some time.

Me: (smiling, shrugging motions, other random gestures, but no words)
God: I know. You're welcome.

And then God and I totally hugged it out.

So that's basically what happened in my five hours in heaven. I have successfully exited Argentina and I could not be more pleased with how events played out.

And seriously, if you guys tell anyone I cried, I WILL hunt you down. Besides, it was hardly crying. Just a couple rogue tears, and nothing more. But still, don't tell.

The Great Escape

Alright, Argentina, weve had some good times, but you gotta let go. Seriously, Ive got people to see and things to do that happen to be in a different country. Its not your fault, but you are going to have to accept the fact that we cant keep doing this forever. You´ve turned into that creepy host that won´t let guests leave, even when the party is clearly over. You are reminding me of that woman that George from Seinfeld dates and when he tries to break up with her, she won´t let him. Honestly, it´s nothing personal, but if you don´t let me go now, you risk tainting all the beauty we created together.

So, I planned on being in Santiago, Chile about a week ago now and I have yet to set foot on Chilean soil. My first attempt to bus from Mendoza, Argentina to Santiago, Chile met a bitter end when I decided that I couldnt be bothered by travel and opted for a nice sleeping session. Ok, my fault, but still, strike one. The next day, I found out the hard way that buses stop running at 1 PM and I was a bit late. I´m only taking half the blame here, but strike two. Finally, I´m on top of my game the third day. Bus station. On time. Let´s do this thing. What? The pass is closed? No buses for how many days? I take no blame for this. And yes, that´s strike three.

So, I flashed Santiago a choice finger and headed North. Back to Salta. Back to where my Argentine adventures first began. It only makes sense that I end the epic Argentine journey where it started. Well, not logistically, financially, logically, or really any other kind of sense. You know, except metaphorically. So that´s good enough for me.

Plus, metaphors aside, now I get to attempt a crossing into Chile at a different location and spend some time in the Atacama Desert. It´s the driest place on earth, but legend has it that it can also be one of the most beautiful. This is all assuming I survive the bus journey that crawls through the mountains to an elevation of 13,000 feet or so. The fact that the bus is equipped with oxygen makes me wonder a bit.

If all goes well, I should be in Arequipa, Peru in about a week to settle down for a bit. I´m super excited to live with my adoptive family and really try and get some Spanish dialed in.

Well, there is your update. Pictures and all that good stuff to come.

Soooooooooooo much love!

Bye Bye BA

Of the 35+ weeks that my trip will cover, the largest chunk of time in any one place, (6 weeks), has been spent in Buenos Aires, Argentina. I kept finding reasons to go back, thus resulting in three separate stays. Now, I must wave goodbye and hope that the rest of my travels provide as many good times and great people as I've enjoyed in this city. That's going to be a tough act to follow. 

To Julie, Steph, Aidan, Sarah, Kelsey, Drew, Nick, Sally, Jenny and all you other API kids, thank you for adopting me into your amazing family. We had some crazy times that I'll never forget. I hope to see as many of you as possible when I get back to the states. So much love for you all. 

To Harry, Mark and Nick, all that can really be said is, RACKO! Yeah that sums it up about right. 

To Ana, Silvana, Sabrina and the rest of the Venezuelan chicos, you are all amazing. And crazy. But I love you with all my corazon. You are, without a doubt, my favorite Venezuelans. Thanks for constantly entertaining me and telling me how much fun your country is going to be when I come visit. 

To Luis, Javier and Lars, you boys are ridiculous, but I wouldn't have it any other way. Those poor old people will never be the same after "the incident". I'm not sure we ever will be either. The damage is done!

To Dana, I never expected anything like this to happen, but it did and I couldn't be happier. As much as you will be missed, I am thoroughly looking forward, with great anticipation, to that right place/right time scenario that brings us back together. 

To everybody that I haven't mentioned by name, but made my time in BA that much more fun, thank you. It wouldn't have been the same without your faces.

To Buenos Aires, thank you for sharing all these fantastic people with me. I will forever be thankful for your generosity. You are one of the greatest cities I've ever been privileged enough to spend time in. 

To the rest of the places my travels take me, you'd best step up your game because the bar has been set high. I'm crazy excited to see what you've got cookin and I'm coming for ya!

That's it. That's all. Until next time, 

Chau!

P.S.
Buenos Aires,
You failed to properly mug/rob me in any way, shape, or form. I guess I'll just have to come back and give you another shot sometime, because that iPod switcheroo shenanigan does not qualify.

Riddle Me This

This is just a super weird thing that happened to me. It's also ironic considering my last post on not being robbed yet. Well, I can no longer claim to not be a victim of theft. See if you can make any sense of the following tale, because I sure can't. 

So a couple nights ago I decide to go out. You know, to take care of business. It is midnight. I take a few items up to my vacant dorm room, stash my iPod in my bag, throw some clothing on top of said bag, grab my coat, and head out. 

Twelve hours pass. I return around noon the next day. My dorm room looks exactly as I left it, except for the two Venezuelans snuggling in another bed. Not suspicious. Venezuelans are notorious for their cuddle capabilities. I actually hope to go there and study under a guru.

I toss the clothes off my bag, retrieve the iPod inside, which is still in it's case with my headphones plugged in, just like the night before. All is well. Or so I thought.

I go downstairs and struggle to turn the iPod on. Battery is dead. I don't remember leaving it in such a state, but maybe I forgot to turn it off. Finally, after a bit of persuasion, it flashes to life. This is odd, the icon layout is totally different. And all my apps are gone. Did I accidentally do some kind of hard reset that wiped out my iPod? Well that would make some sense because now all my pictures, videos, and a ton of personal writing I had composed in the notes section are completely gone. Sadness envelopes me. Stupid iPod malfunction. 

But wait, there is still something saved on the iPod. Music. The problem is, its not my fantastic collection of thousands of songs that have not only kept me company on this trip, but, in some cases, even evoked inspiration. Instead there is a small pile of less than one hundred tracks. Now the truly terrible feeling sets in, because the main contributors to this rubbish stash of tunes are the likes of The Black Eyed Peas, Chris Brown, Enrique Iglesias, and Rihanna. This trash heap fails to qualify as music.

What kind of sick freak would defile my iPod like this? Hold the phone. I tear the case off my iPod and notice a couple things that were not there before. Oh nice, somebody also scratched it up. And also had Apple engrave it with the name Melody Etezadia? 

Now I get it. This isn't my iPod. Somebody stole mine and replaced it with the exact same model. Ok I really don't get it. So I slipped into my pair of detective underwear and went to work on this mystery. 

I team up with reception at the hostel to discover that no Melody Etezadia is currently checked in, nor has she ever been. What's up plot twist? Nothing I can't handle. 

I dig into the iPods internet history. Looks like a Castor Abreu is the last person to log in to Facebook on this device. Hello email address. 

I use the helpful world of Facebook to investigate these Melody and Castor characters. Melody lives in Massachusetts and is currently there. Castor is also from Massachusetts, but is  traveling in South America at the moment. Melody and Castor are not Facebook friends. I return to reception to investigate Castor. I bet he's still around and I'm going to nail this thieving creep. 

No! I'm too late. Castor has already checked out......a month ago! 

Then a moment of true panic swarms me. My iPod had been in my bag when it was switched. Other contents of that bag were my passport, camera, cash, credit cards, and other things I'd rather not lose. I feel sick as I sprint up the stairs to see what all had been taken. I'm already formulating plans for the emergency mode I'm just about to shift into. 

Wait. It's all still here? But why? Then again, why wouldn't it be? The person who stole my iPod obviously isnt a typical thief because they left me a replacement iPod. Who does that? So it's either a joke or I'm dealing with someone who is proper crazy. 

I spent the next bit of time interrogating other residents of the hostel. No one knows a thing. It slowly became apparent that this is no joke. I was robbed by the most considerate criminal ever.

I was fairly upset over the loss of all my music, pictures, videos, and writing for about an hour. Then I just had to laugh. What a weird thing to happen. Cant be mad. Honestly, it just makes me giggle to think about. 

As far as I can tell, this iPod has changed hands several times through sketchy means. Now that it's in mine, I'm going to do my best to hold on to it. Although, I wouldn't be upset if someone wanted to steal it and upgrade me to a similar model that doesn't leave me stranded in South America with only Katy Perry and Pink to keep me company.

My Walk Home

I'm refuse to pay for a cab unless in a group or I've got miles to go with bags and all. If I'm not crunched for time you won't find me on a bus either. I prefer walking because it's the best way to get to know a city. Plus it gives me time to be thoroughly entertained by my inner monologue. 

So as if the title didn't give it away, you are well informed that I'm walking. But where and when? Buenos Aires. 4 AM. Trouble is brewing. 

I've heard countless horror stories of muggings, theft, beatings, and all other sorts of shady activity associated with Buenos Aires. When is it my turn? I'm now in my 3rd stint here and have not one horror story of my own. Super jealous. Perhaps tonight is the night.

Faced with what is already a 30 min walk home through a less than friendly neighborhood, I can't be bothered to reroute along more pleasant grounds. Knowing full well the hostilities that may await, I arm myself with the only thing around that can double as way to make myself look even more hardcore and as a deadly weapon. With my toothpick perfectly inserted in my mouth at the most menacing angle I set forth. 

With fantasies playing out in my mind of how I will soon become the most deadly man in the world with a toothpick I find the darkest street possible and go for it. Gringo begging for problems.

As soon as the two dudes in trenchcoats materialized at the other end of the street I immediately loathed the moment this sounded like a good idea. But it was too late. Walking towards each other, I knew a clash was imminent. What would their preferred mode of robbery be? How would I react? If things got rough it was two on one. No amount of deadly toothpick training could save me now. 

As they approached perfectly in sync, I could now see the whites of their eyes peering at me from under their hoods. At once, with flawless execution, they both pulled back their coats, reached in with the other hand, and each quickly produced the weapon with which they would do their wicked deed. I was equally lightning quick with my draw.

So there I was staring down matching barrels of a pair of...... cell phones? All I was shot with was awkward glances as they proceeded to make their calls. I decided I had better repocket the cash I had already whipped out as an offering of surrender.

Disaster averted. Realization made. I would have made that way too easy if those had been real criminals. Next time will be different. Next time didn't wait long to arrive.

A couple deserted blocks later, a large man, with perhaps the world record for facial piercings, broke free from the shadows and rushed at me with a special kind of crazy in his eye. I fumbled to ready my toothpick for a counter attack which was difficult seeing as is had fallen from my mouth who was preparing a terrified scream. This wild man wasted precious little time in demanding my wallet. But wait. My Spanish isn't great and that demand for a wallet sounded like it might have actually been an inquiry as to if the 59 bus stopped nearby. 

Did I really look like I would know that? I'm standing there fiddling with a large splinter, mouth agape and a freshly pissed pair of underpants. I obviously don't concern myself with trivial facts about bus 59.

Yet again spared a horrific tragedy. Over the course of the next few uneventful blocks I was beginning to make a few discoveries about myself and my true feelings towards being robbed and/or beaten. But before I could settle on anything concrete, it happened.

There I was on a lonely street corner waiting politely for my good time to cross sign. Toothpick casually dangling from my lips. That's when I heard it. More accurately, that's when I felt it. The hot breath of Buenos Aires wrath on my neck was unmistakable. But how could this be? I had just looked over my shoulder and confirmed my isolation. Now not one but two, no, three figures had stealthily flanked me and were now literally breathing on my neck, ready to make their move.

Showtime. I had to get it right this time. This was the real deal. With an elegance and swiftness not seen this side of the equator in years, I quickstepped into a spin maneuver while transferring my weapon from mouth to hand, thus becoming combat ready. Possibly could have even been a flip in there. It was all a blur.

There I was now face to face with the three most evil...... 14 year old girls in need of a lighter I had ever witnessed? What is this all about? First of all, why are you even out at this hour? Second, what would possess you to think that sneaking up behind someone and breathing on them is the best way to ask for a light? They don't even know how close they came to getting shish kabobed on my weapon of choice. Seriously, not cool. And no, I didn't have a lighter on me. Just a shiny new heart attack to go along with that wet pair of pants. Roar!

The last few blocks home is when I decided for sure: I don't actually want to be in a robbery/beating situation, no matter how sweet the story might be. And if it has to happen, I'm much better off forking over my 30 pesos, and running into the night than trying to become the world's most deadly man with any sort of teeth cleaning device.

So, Buenos Aires, if you're going to do it, just do it already and quit playing with me.

At The End Of All Things

Well Buenos Aires is pretty fantastic. But after a couple weeks there, broken up by a stint in Uruguay, it was time to move on. Destination: Ushuaia, Argentina. The most southerly city in the world. Yes, it is southerly and not southernly. No N. Don't ask me why, but if you dislike it then go read someone else's edge of the world blog.

Trouble finding another world's edge blog? Then you're stuck with my account and it goes a bit like this:

The edge of the world is a place where snow is friendly with seaweed. Where salt water and subzero temperatures get along quite nicely. Where streets and sidewalks bow out to a difficult-to-navigate combination of ice and mud. Where the lazy sun can't be bothered to rise before 10 but makes the wait well worth it by transforming the mountains into giant mounds of pink and orange sherbet upon it's ascent. Where pods of whales can be seen loitering in the frigid waters. Where mountains somehow conspire to surround you from all sides even while exhausted waves lap at your feet. The edge of the world is a place that begs contemplation, reflection, and snowboarding.

What? You didn't think I'd just go for the mind blowing scenery did you? No, when I found out I could snowboard while looking over the edge of the world, now that's when I was truly sold. It may not have been the most conventional 4th of July but it was definitely one to remember.

After a day of unleashing my Pacific Northwest bred snowboard skills upon the Argentines, I was all smiles. Descending to the base at the end if my last run, I was coming in with some serious speed. I decided a fancy stopping maneuver was in order to appropriately impress those watching. I went to carve hard to the left but my board refused to turn. It was only my binding who obliged. The combination of the failed loose rental binding and the laws if physics quickly teamed up to ensure some pain was in my near future. 

The sound of someone getting the wind knocked out of them is unmistakable. Nevertheless I gave the nearby Argentines a refresher course. 

You'd think it would be difficult to maintain a smile while your lungs are fighting, to no avail, for some air and your imaginative ribs are trying to convince you that they are shattered. Not this time. No high speed wipeout could rob my face of the smile it had been wearing all day. And just one second. Let me check. Yes. That same overly giddy, edge of the world smile is still right where it should be.