...

We made it back to the US.
My mind is scattered in a million pieces.
The culture shock began when we got off the plane and... I cant even go into detail. It was horrible.
Ill be fine.

Breathe...

Ill keep this blog going for the rest of the summer.
Thanks for following along.
It means a lot.

Now, I sleep...

Goodnight and dulce suenos.

Love ya.

O, the beautiful sound
of falling coins
on steel

My three eyes
Spinning in circles

Bar
Bar
Bar bar bar

There is no sunshine in the Tigre casino.

We left the flourescent money mansion with full pockets and heavy eyelids.
My eyes blinded by the darkness of the night.

I don´t believe in luck - I believe in destiny. But last night, luck was on our side.

Jonathan and I dominated the blackjack table, though Jonathan had no idea what was going on. We turned 50 into 190.

Abril and Ro looked like two old ladies, stuffing more and more coins into slot machines. I joined Abril, and after saaay 10 minutes, I stood triumphantly glaring at the 720 gold circles plumetting, bowing to their rightful owner - me. Buena suerte or buena onda - whatever you wanna call it, Abril and I had it.

Twas a good way to say goodbye to Tigre, or rather Tigre saying goodbye to me. We sadly cannot stay in Argentina for Abrils birthday, and will head back to the US tomorrow morning.

6 months abroad. Growth. Insight. Wisdom.

The adventure never ends...

Back in Argentina

On the move, keepin the groove

Back in Buenos Aires!

Our night in Arequipa was absolute awesome madness. A new Claro was opening, equivalent to say Verizon Wireless, and as we walked by, Jonathan peeked back and wanted to enter the party. The big security guards at the door gave us gringos skeptical looks. I peered in to see a jolly round guy with a blue jacket holding a full bottle of Cusqueña cerveza gave me the "come on in" gesture. I immediately yelled "we´re with him, him, HIM!" and we entered. The man, Guillermo, really hooked it up. Tons of free beer, music, and he introduced us to a group of five girls, saying "dance, dance" C´mon!" Feeling slightly embarassed, I moved weakly towards them, but as our cab driver Edwin advised earlier in the day, "Arequipa girls love fireigners."

Edwin was right.

We danced the hell out of Claro, ate some celestial crepes at Zig Zag´s, then went out clubbing with the group of five. Twas a great night to say the least.

After 2 hours of sleep, we awoke from our drunken slumbers and booked it to the station. We discover that "Bus cama" AKA bed bus, is the best thing ever. We have the whole bottom section of the bus to ourselves. The 9 hour ride to Nazca felt like a "ratito".

When we arrived in Nazca, we went directly to the airport. "We have no tickets, but we wanna fly and see the lines!" We got a 4 seater plane, 2 pilots and booked it to the sky... the last flight out that afternoon. We saw the most incredible, head achy, mind hypnotizing Nazca Lines, formations of Incan rock patterns resembling different animals and figures across an arid desert. How it got there, or why it was there, remains a mystery. Google search Nazca Lines...

We then got some juicy sleep and booke dit to Lima, met our Israeli-LA friend Oren in the Loki Hostel (Miraflores) and walked around the trendy uppermid class neighborhood. Eventually, Jona nd I went to the movie theater and saw "The A-Team" (AKA "Los Magnificos") .... seriously... As much as the movie continued to pile ridiculousness on top-of-itself, it brought out a lot of analysis within us. After the movie, deep philisophical-psychological conversation ensued within the "rauchy arcade" of a a shopping mall strip. Who ever thought The A-Team would bring out such intense analysis. Go AMERICA!

Anyways. QWe followed with an adventurous search for cuy (guinea pig). We had yet to eat the delicasey in Peru, and in our last night, would settle for nothing less. Our final Peruvian dinner took place in a fancy shmansy restaurant-bar. We drank amazing cocktails and munched on heavenly cuy (followed by a massive banana sundae downt he block). We met Oren and our new Alabama spunk-punk friend Joseph at La Noche Jazz night, drank some beers, and returned to the hostel to be bothered and confused by raging drunk Irish burly men int he hostel bar.... Anyways.

We woke up slightly late and ended up sprinting down the terminal for our plane back to Buenos Aires. Long story short, we made it. Slept the whole 4 hour plane ride, got outta the BsAs airport safely back home. Jonathans upstairs resting and Cachop went to pick up Elvira from their daughters house. Lovely dinner with Malbec ahead.

2 days in Buenos Aires before we return to the States. Lots of internal reflection going on, but thats another blogpost, if I can even put it down from my head. All in all. Tuto ben!

Daviiid

Dust Demons

We jump out of the pickup truck and the man riding shotgun calls me closer: "Cuidado con los perros salvajes. Es mas seguro para llevar piedras..." He gave me a queesy look and the green machine headed left, shooting a cloud of dust over us like a thin brown blanket.

Walking up to the junk yard, Jonathan and I start laughing uncontrollably. "What ARE we doing? We are probably the stupedest people alive!"

Well, with great risk comes great reward.

We only had one day in Arequipa to enjoy whatever offer came a´callin. The trip to Colca, the famous (Machu Pichu scale-esque) canyon with condors and extreme views was out of the picture. 5 hours away? No thanks. So, we settled for Misti, the massive volcano that dominates the Arequipa skyline. The thing about Misti is that it looks much closer than it is. Also, it is "safer" to go with a guide, something we shrugged off. When we asked our cab driver how we´d get back to town, he just smiled and laughed... Great.

So we told Edwin, the driver, to return three hours later to the San Luis cemetery. We then hitched a ride in the back of a pickup truck and walked uphill through the arid dusty wasteland. Imagine: no one but us and poisonous rotten evil killing junk yard dogs. With rocks and big bottles of water in our hands, we were equipped for battle. We werent looking for a fight, though it would make a good story. pproahing their territory, a pack of black drooling devil dogs ran up to us barking in broken English mostly screaming, "Beat it gringos, we eat white meat!!!!" There were no stone throwing, but I came close. We moved past the pack and up the hill, ate lunch,took a grand sista, and went on a wild off-road hike up and down canyons, through ravine, and over cacti. I got stung quite a few painful times. It clear that my "magic pants" arent completely magical after all.

Edwin returned. We ate banana chips and laughed. Took a quick disposable photo with our man and ducked into the Santa Catalina monastary. Gorgeous red hallways. Sick-looking Jesus statues and a great city-mountain view.

We are now showered and are ready for delicious-sounding crepes. We head for Nazca tomorrow morning. Always on the move. Stone-throwing-dog-killer-blood boiling in our blue veins.

RAWWWR!!!

Lake Titicaca Blues

Fried trout. Inka Kola. Churango case lookout. Gelatin old women selling Sublime candy bars and chicklets. Beggers and babies. The smell of fresh shit wafting in the wind. Steep hills. Uros island loca lone ladies. Bright night electric lights. Haggeling tourist trappers. Machupizza. Really cheap wine. Colorful pants. Good friends. The brightest sun in the world.

Thanks, Puno.

Hello, Arequipa.

Lago Titicaca

Earth eaters

Mushy muddy hands. Hot afternoon sun. Sunscreen and sweet potato chips...

We escaped Cuzco last night after a ridiculously fun day in Pisac with some super-surfery lady-hollering natives. The Pisac market is HUGE! Lots of souveneirs, negotiating, and great potatoes (as there are everywhere in Peru). Here, when a girl has great tits, you say "que buenas papas!"

We took the freezing cold night bus to Puno. The knife twisting stomach pains passed, but I was left rubbing my legs back to life. No heater - no problem.... lies!

After some delicious sleep, a hot misty shower, omeletes and coffee, we set out to Chicuito to find my Ann Arbor co-op friend Erin who has been volunteering in the Puno area for the past two summers. We got down and dirty, building walls and securing cracked areas with freshly made mortar. We felt like kids squishing the brown goo between our crusty fingers. Yesterday, Jonathan bought a beautiful churango at the Pisac feria and showcased his blossoming skills for the old residents of the Chicuito lot. Dancing delight. Music. Love.

After some mate and warm showers, we sit in this internet cafe checkin in on the outside world. Erins housemates are very sweet and we will probably go out for dinner and drinks around Puno.

The journey continues...

Besos!

Foto Loco (taken back in Cafayate)

THE SALKANTAY TRAIL

I cut through the cold wind with flailing arms and return to the yellow tent. Im wearing every article of clothing I ripped from my pack and yet I still feel as if I am wrapped in ice. When I peak inside the tent, its worse than I suspected; the smell nearly knocks me to the dusty dirt floor. I fight through the odor and witness vomit splashed across my oversized sleeping bag and sleeping mat. I guess that plastic bag didnt hold after all...

We ariived last night in Aguas Calientes, the tourists shithole village beneath Machu Pichu after three days of intense trekking... bum bum bum BA! The Salkantay trail. Glorious. My cousin Jonathan and I were joined by two young boring couples, who probably thought we were showtune aliens. Our group leader, Puma, was the f*in man. Half Incan/half spanish suave with knowedgable insight and lots of sarcastic laughs. The cooks, Valentin and Javier, blew my food expactations off the mountain, and were super nice, even if they continuously wanted to chat with me about sex and girls. We also had two horse drivers that carried our bags. But, if you think this trek would be simple with such lovely assistance, you are SO wrong. Lets start at the top, shall we?

Day 1. We hear the doorbell ring in our quiet guest house at 5 AM. Two men take our bags and we aboard a mini-van. We pick up four strangers in another hostel and are off for unknown territory. Jonathan and I are too tired to make conversation with the newbies. My sleepy cuz immediately passes out in the car but I endure the agonizing up and downhill turns for 2 and a half hours, sending my already damaged stomach to sloshy pieces. We meet our crew after breakfast, 2 chefs and 2 horse drivers. I imagine that without carrying bags and eating prepared meals will be a sintch, but before you know it, Im behind the group, head spun and crazy. I look and feel like llama shit. Jonathan wants to stay behind with me but my inner voice screams NO! GO! THIS IS MY PROBLEM AND IM GONNA GET OVER IT PERSONALLY! Soon thereafter, we arrive at a check point and I pray to the Incan gods for strength. Things turn around when I meet a nice german girl who zips up my "magic pants" (the pants part) and I receive new love energy. I feel better and overcome slightly.

Im moving quickly now, completely oblivious to the extreme amount of nature surrounding us. Its quite spectacular, but as I later realize, this world takes some adjusting to. Anyways, I soon fall back behind the group and trudge on. The sickness returns and I feel as if Im dragging myself forward with a soggy rope. Yet, I sing and rhyme to the mountains, the Incan gods, and everything else. Its in these moments where my rhymes are the best, but never get written down. I finish the hike and fall hard to the floor. "Dave, get up! Get uuup!" It takes some time, but I slither into my dusty tent, shiver hard, and change clothes. I pass out without recognizing and as I wake up in the clotstrophobic tent, my stomach spins 540 on me and yells, "coming through!!!" I grab a bag and let loose in the dark. I then stumble out the door and brush by a group of sheraders, mumbling to Jonathan, "Im sick man."

It was a good thing I threw up for multiple reasons: I HAD TO; I received a better sleeping bag, and felt much refreshed. We cleaned the mess and watched the myriad of stars above, made our own constellations, and proceeded to have a terrible sleep.

Day 2: The night took forever. I turned and turned in sleeping bag, and felt horrible in the morn. Morning coca tea and slight breakfast. Thankfully, the boring couples had boughten an extra horse which I rode for the day. I could not breathe properly and felt death creeping over me. Eeeeek. Ya know what, I look kinda fabulous on a horse. I pushed up the mountains like a Lord of the Rings Rider of Rohan character and napped hard at every rest point. While the others (not Jon) complained about the trecherous hike, I just wanted to crumble into a piece of matter and fly to Hawaii. I finished the day on foot, conversed with our hilarious crew, and practiced French with a cute Bulgarian girl in another group. The Salkantay trail is much less populated than the Inca trail, but we did cross other on the way. I arrived at out new campsite feeling more fresh and ready for a delicous meal.

Day 3: Slept like a golden god! The hike was not that tough. It was a gorgeous jungle voyage. We ate wild strawberries, passion fruit, and blackberries (no stomach side effects) and rested in a lovely farm where a HUGE turkey reigned over the wild dogs. I felt at my best, stayed well hydrated, and did my doody with mother earth. We lunched in a village called La Playa and said goodbye to our crew. I finessed a comical drawing for the cooks and caballeros. In the middle it reads, "muchas gracias pajeros!" (thank you so much, jerk offs!) I also gave my dirty infested sleeping bag to Valentin the chef. I know he comes from a poor village and even though the bag was sickened, he appreciated it (and the drawing).

Waiting for the train to Aguas Calientes, Jonathan and I haki sacked and improv percussion Stomp style on the train, trash, benches, and rocks. We tried "ava" and sweet hot drink and made friends with a vender lady and daughter. The train broke down, blacked out, and became infested with moths, but we still had a good time. Warmish shower and dinner. Sleep tight. Machu Pichu, tomorrow.

Day 4: We get a wake up call that I never heard and Jonathan shakes me to life. Gotta move. We stretch deep and grab bread to go. Its 4 in the morning and we are heading down a pass to a bridge check point. When we pass, we encounter steep steps leading to heaven AKA MAchu Pichu. One foot in front of the other, we clib and climb, dislayering each chance we get. Up and up we go. The light begins illuminating the sky and we can make out the surrounding mountains. "Come on, we gotta beat the sunrise!" We PUSH AND PUSH and finally reach the TOP! Expecting the marvel of the universe, we are bitch-slapped by buses pouring out loads and loads of people, and a line of infinite tourists. Ughhh.

Anyways, the tour around Machu Pichu was splendid. We met some hip younger people (a refeshing contrasting to our uninteresting married group trekkers) and marvel at the scenery. After some Tai Chi and good conversation, Jonathan and I head up Waina Pichu (the mountain in all the Machu Pichu postcards). Its straight up with ropes and stone steps. Coca leaves and constant breaths. We step up and up again and again. Top drop uber hot. Fotographs and morphing mountains. Fresh dopamine rushing naturally through me. Who DAT! High flying birds! Condors!

It was a trek for the ages and Im glad I survived. In my opinion, the trek was better than Machu Pichu. Nature explosion. Fresh feeling phenomena. On and on. We go.

Peru

Cuzco.

Bolivian buses put to a close. So long to traveling buddies but we awake to new ones. Always. The road is a circle. People keep popping up again and again. I think we are on a good path.

Tomorrow morning, we begin our trek up to Machu Pichu on the Salkantay Trail, less crowded and "better nature" than the inca trail. We have everything in order to go, especially after a seriously Peruvian dinner which included sopa criolla, ceviche, and alpaca. Cuzco is gorgeous. Today, we saw some big rocks, great views, and a billion haggeling clinging venders with our new buddy Oren, a Los Angeles physical therapist Jew buena onda awesomeness guy. Jonathan and I bring the fire, keep the fire burning, and add for fire to the already burning fire.

Gotta go sleep. Ill check back when we finish the trek. Super stoked!!!!!!! Give me mountain!


Dave


We are music of the world.

Salty clouds - Bolivian babies

Slow ride! Take it patiently! Damn right. Bolivian internet sucks! But, apart from an irritatingly slow interconnectedness websitean wants AND needs, Bolivia has been better than I expected. We, meaning Jonathan, I, and our hilariously fun traveling French companion Nordine, have been biting through Bolivia. Yesterday, we awoke early to beat traffic at the border, but had a stupid issue with the sole-working border cheif, who took forever to attend to our needs to cross into Bolivia. It turned out the only thing that was out-of-line was that there were no more GREEN stickers for my passport clearance. So, we waited and waited and he FINALLY found one in a HUGE safe, probably filled with just GREEN stickers. Scared we´d miss the bus to Uyuni, we moved like dogs to the terminal. Amazingly, upon arival, we discovered that the BOlivian time zone is an hour back, giving us just enough time to buy a ticket and hot cinnamon juice and jump on the sketchy looking bus.

You know what, Bolivian buses DO suck! I still cannot believe the trek we did, constantly bumpy, winding up dangerously curvy mountain sides. The desert landscape was empty and pretty much the same the whole way, but twas nice to be on the road. After a strange vomit-like substance flooded the floor, we got some deep naps. After 8 hours, we made it to Uyuni, met two Columbian backpackers and followed them to a nice hostel, where we layed our stuff down - eventually getting 10 hours of sleep. But before that we had a great night.

Imagine a small fried chicken shack filled with Bolivians glued to the TV screen shooting big Hollywood KING KONG into their faces. Yeah, we were into it to. Yay Hollywood...or not.

Later, we followed loud noises and found ourselves inside a humungous packed gymnasium, where the Uyuni girls basketball championship game was in full force. Twas super awesome being part of another communal gathering.

On the record, BOlivian babies are the cutest in the world and I WANT ONE!

Today, we took a tour to the worlds greatest salt flats, which blew our minds to salt crystals. Imagine a vast white desert of salt. Blue sky, white ground. Even the clouds were filled with salt. In the middle of the white desert lies an island of ancient coral reef. Some quick history: the salt flats used to be an ocean tons and tons of years ago, and now it has dried, and on this random huge island, cacti have grown. Crazy views. Beautiful scenery. Lots of pictures and fun. We ate quinua and meat, salad, drank coca cola, and chewed on some coca leaves. Good for digestion and altitude sickness. What a crazy day.

Tonight, soon, very soon, we will take a night bus to La Paz with our crew of 5 and continue to on Copacabana, a Lake Titicaca pueblo. We have a few days to get to Peru, but we´ll make it. The road never ends. We are ready for more.

Shwing!

Bike ride, siesta, flat tire. Damn. I hitched a ride on a motorcycle back to Humahuaca and left my friends with the irritating task of dragging my dead bike. First time riding on the back of a moto. Id do it again.

We are now in La Quica, tippy-top of Argentina, planning our next move, probably to Uyuni, which lies next to the biggest salt flats in the world! We hope for a single day tour. From there, probably La Paz, and we´ll swing around Lake Titicaca to Cuzco. We are confirmed for our trek to Machu Pichu, which makes me feel like hip thrusting the air, which is my current sign of approval.

Jonathan and I have started a rap group called Best Rappers Alive and we rap about mundane, ordinary things. Life is a musical between us. Uh....YEAH!

We stumbled upon some traditional voodoo-like rituals, where little cute delicious brown kids set a giant scarecrow creature on fire. We also received blessing from flower-holding, water-throwing preist. Today, I experienced the coldest shower of my life. New slam poetry. Brain excercises. Siesta fiestas.

Gotta wake up early early to get to Uyuni. So long for now Argentina. Te amo.

DAVE!

Suavedad

Pasta and steak dinner. Red Mendoza wine on the side. The three of us were a great team in the kitchen last night.
This morning - egg omletes with onions, tomatoes, cheese,and avocado.
Fresh cheap empanadas today.
We will rent bikes and ride around Humahuaca, then take a bus to the border in a few hours, and probably stay the night in La Quiaca tonight, and hit the Unuyi salt flats tomorrow, hopefully.

Laundry is done. Clothes are fresh.

Onwards and upwards.

Dave

Rainbow Mountain Boys

Currently in Humahuaca. Purmamarca was beyond words gorgeous. We climbed a tough hill today, had lunch with white wine, and meditated. Fresh air. Rainbow mountains. Whoa...

Met a nice buena onda frenchman today and traveled with him here to Humahuaca and will make dinner soon.

We are getting closer and closer to Bolivia and can see the transformation in the darker faces, dirt roads, prices, etc. People are nice to us. Keeping a watchful eye but having fun.

I am over that stupid sickness and feel GREAT!

Salta was pretty cool. We saw a Incan mummy that blew our minds. My friend Katelyn from Buenos Aires met us at our kick-ass hostel and we got to hang out, dance, groove, be crazy, and enjoy life.

Jonathan and I are practicing more and more Spanish and he is improving/gaining more confidence. I, on the other hand, can speak normally and am so happy to see how I have improved over the past 5 months. I started learning French from our French cutie roommates in Salta, and caught on quickly. I have a thing for languages. It might be my good memory or something else. Whatever it is, I wanna keep going.

Speaking of going, I gotta do just that. Soon, we will hit Bolivia and hopefully see the salt flats before heading towards La Paz and Lake Titicaca. We are confirmed for our Salkantay Trail trek and the light is bright on the horizon.

Sending my love in every direction,
Dave

Flow

I stumble out of the minivan after shaken from a quick nap. Look! Colors! Mountains! Nature! God! Life! Yes!

I had doubts about this excursion, a whole day traveling around nothern Salta and lower Jujuy, pinned inside a minivan. We did get see San Antonio de Los Cobres, an ooold mining town, where we picked up lunch and picnicked on the Salt Flats. Damn. Thats a lot of salt. But, as Jonathan put it, the salt flats were kinda bizzare. Outstrected white canvas with various digging expeditions and random object thrown here and there. We took some amazing photos, continued our ¨Foto loco¨ jumping pose, which continues to be epic everytime. DAMN! I gotta post them soon. Not that easy yet... Anyways. Nature everywhere. 1 day roadtrip. Solid.

Antibiotics! Gotta get this throat healed!

USA won today so we get a FREE night at Backpackers World, AKA the best hostel ever. Such good vibes, backpackers, bar, free dinners, discounts, excursions, and so on.

Tomorrow, we will explore the city of Salta and then head to Purmamarca, a quiet village in Jujuy, by late evening. Never has "going with the flow" made so much sense.

More hot tea and good times ahead.

MUCHO AMOR!
David

Fotos

I have been taking great photos. Once I get time to sit, relax, and upload, I will post em up.

Salty Skies

We made it to Salta. Cutting through colored mountains, thermoses of tea honey lemon explosions. Still, my throat kills. Push forward. Movement. Change. Life. Love. We will probably check out the salt flats tomorrow and skip the Train de los Nubes (a touristicy lookout at the nearby gorges). We will save more intensely colored mountains for La Montana de Siete Colores in Purmamarca in the province of Jujuy. Free breakfast and dinner in Backpackers World Hostel. Argentina continues to dominate in futbol. Spirits are sky high. Mochileros. Folklore. Chivito. Back to more tea.

D

Vino Puro, Piedra Sangre

I will write this post as i do sometimes in my journals, quick thoughts and images FYI i am writing on a strange keyboard so bear with me...

Wind walkin flying fish we swish through air like its our bussiness, twirlin in mid air mid cares about much else, ucuman blues gotta move, we arrive in tafi de valle, Tomo japanese hostel queen and late night tea, colds going down gradually, hike up the cerro de la cruz what a view, big lunch glass of wine ride up to cafayate, its fresh air season for good reason, them boys have arrived, best rappers alive, wine tasting tour and a full day canyon hike, tye dye colored mountains, rock paradise,its a chivito goat lunch and dinner is the same, step up to thetable and bring your A game, with wine anf folklore musics my ears eyes and soul; rock and roll pass themic we roll,cqllme gangsta sniffles, makin some more tea, its a mystery out there in front of us but its Salta i can kiiiinda see, well get in before the futbol game, argentina, lets go.

and los mejores alfajores del mundo!

Wind walkin

The plane lands, or should I say smashes on night pavement. Bienvenidos a Tucuman!

The man with the white moustache to my right hands me a paper with his info. "If you need anything, dont hesitate to call me. I have many connections with the Tucuman embassy." Suddenly, the capital city of Tucuman seems less dangerous than what others have described: poverty and crime. "Thanks Fernando! We´re off to Tucuman Hostel."

When we arrive, Carlos, the desk employee, greets us with open arms. He was a pilot in California pre-911 and now is back in Tucuman. We converse about Cali and the Santa Monica airport. Jonathan mentions paragliding in Tucuman, AKA jumping off a mountain with a parachute (and a guide), and Carlos´ eyes open wide and shoot lazer sun rays over his hypnotizing smile. He immediately whips out his phone and shows us videos. "Yes! I will go with you tomorrow! Ill book it now..."

So, its morning in Tucuman and we chill out over some toast and tea. After we paraglide, we will head to Tafi de Valle, a picturesque green valley with nothing much but walking roads and from what I read, amazing cheese. But, we´ll find out soon. Then, we will hit up the ruins in Amaicha for a couple hours before we hit Cafayate, the wine capital of Salta. Do I taste drunk horseback riding on the tip of my mind´s tongue? Take it in stride. Glide with wind. Tucuman day 1, begin!

El Camino

I awake with no voice. My room is cold. I feel awesome.

My cousin Jonathan (AKA Juanito) arrived in Buenos 2 days ago and life has been sweet tasty. We watched Argentina dominate Korea, had a great lunch with my host-family, partied with all my Tigre friends at my house, Jons first night here. Music, pizza, Fernet, and amor. I got As in all my classes! Last night, we went to a farewell dinner prepared by my program which was amazing, then watched the Lakers win the ship, and continued to dance our butts off in Club 69. Is that Dave up on the platform?! YES! Crazy good vibes, Brazilians hotties, and DANCE.

Well. I awake with a good tiresome blues. Last day in BA. The road is bright ahead. First stop - Tucuman. The next chapter begins.

Like BAM! Ya feel this?

I received an 8 out of 10 (which transfers to an A-) in my Economic History Argentina class. The course was in Spanish and pretty tough, but I studied silly and whipped out a darn doodley grade.

Thats just a piece of the po-positive news that was today. Basically, i carried the best 'onda' with me all dia long. My energy was so hot and contagious, like disco balls raining over jupiter, that other people caught on. Like BAM! Ya feel this? YEAH! Now take it and spread it, like dulce de leche on my morning toast. Im like a simile machine!

I went to get coffee with a Dutch chick from my Literature class. I was really anxious before, super on edge, for no apparent reason. She turned out to be super cool. Buena onda between us. She came with me to buy backpacking pants and a tennis balls for Caho (my Argentinean papa), and she had lots of helpful advice. She even painted my pinky nail orange for Holland. Fuck yeah! Lets go Holland!

I am in Muki now for the last time (for now), sipping on a litre of Stella, chewin on potato chips and watching the Lakers dominate the Celtics like puppets on a silver string (which is actually happening in the NBA... by the way, I didnt tell you that...)

O! And I wrote my first song in a long time. My shtick started with me improvising everything, then I said, "hey Dave, you gotta learn some songs for people to sing along to!" So I did... Then, it hit me, "Dave, you havent written squat! Do something about that." Well, it just so happened that I wrote a Spanish poem on the last page of my journal, then turned it into a beautiful song. After dinner this evening, I played it for my home-stay parents who dug it, and corrected my grammar mistakes :)
Our parakeet Carlitos sang along with me. It was slightly more than magical.

Lets keep the groove train movin like the tooth roots soothing through gum drop asphalt cherry bombs. Car alarms and shaman gongs. I long for an helado. A waffle traffic cone and an ol fish bone. Suckaaaaaas!

La Cena

El Cocinero

I cooked for my home-stay family last night, which brought things full-circle.
I prepared the Guatemalan chicken dish that I basically grew up eating.
Last night brought back memories of my stay in Guatemala, the family there that misses me, and overall good times.
The food was delicious, and I am proud that the real chef of the house, Elvira, gave it two thumbs way up.
Happy smiles. Happy bellies. Hoorah!

Little Tree

Things have been connecting in ways that I cannot explain with straight words.

Middle ground. A strange zone. My friends and family here in Argentina are sad I will depart soon while friends and family in the US await my arrival. I am somewhere in between, resting in the intangible. The gates to North Argentina are open, as my mind, shining with adventure and endless possibilities.

I realize my Tigre friends are my true friends I've made in Argentina. I spent this weekend with them. Mucha joda. Great music. Great times. Great, to say the least. Last night, we went to Luna Park to see a folklore/rock band called Arbolito. They sing and represent the traditional pueblos Argentinos with music to dance, jump, mosh, sit, love, and smile. Such a beautiful show!

I ride the waves, saying to myself everyday, that this is the best day of my life! We LIVE TODAY!

Arbolito:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KxOmHzSOg_8

Señor Huxley

Confused blue cotton juice...

My Buenos Aires experience is coming to a close. I finished two of three papers. I will write my third paper about mate, or rather a love story about mate and me. Should be funny and informative. Finals week is this week and the wrapping up of stuff is slow going but definitely going. Sad, but hey, its all good. Tuto bene (for all you Italians out there reading my blog)

Quick thoughts: the NBA is rigged, no doubt in my mind.
The world cup has started. I am slightly distant from the mega-commercial spectacle that the world cup has become. The Argentinean television screens have only been filled with Argentina seleccion coverage (apart from the usual 'fear news') and it all has made me sick. Finally, the tournament has begun! E.E.U.U!!! Argentina! Vamos!

My cousin Jonathan will come down from Los Angeles on Wednesday morning. We will backpack for a month through North Argentina and Bolivia to Machu Pichu, where we will climb the Salkantay Trail. The excitement continues to build!

Late night pizza fills a grumbling mumbling tummy to the max. Jamon y queso, how I will miss you.

Aldous Huxley, your writing is dense and delightful to read on the 59 bus. How you blow my mind every morning and get me thinking thinking thinking, gearing up for golden day.

Mate and carne. I rap all day in faces of confused blue cotton juice. Yeah, I'm running loose like a lizard. Wizard and witches kollect kitche kitchen krap. Theres a boot left in the aftermath. After math class, I dance with the epitaph of an elephant in Africa, mauled by moron lion cubs. I rub a genie lamp and camp in the stars. Gasoline cars and cuban cigars. Look out for the inner eye, always bright, in sight I sit, cross-legged like a superstitious spider. Water on fire. Tired. I recline.

"Mysteries"

I just finished writing a detective story for my literature class. Let me know if you want to read it, and I'll send you an email attachment (it's in English :)

Chau!

NEW POST AND PHOTOS ADDED

Whispering wind - Dancing mermaids

I laid the book down and took a deep breath in, closed my eyes, and drifted with the wind inside the cracks of my skull. I breathed out and I could see for miles inside my body. Every grain of sand in my spleen smiled. Every crevice in my kidney clapped for joy as the thunderous voice in my head roared, “listen to me!” Ritualistically, I came out of reading “The Alchemist” by Paulo Coelho in a healthier place, mentally and spiritually, than when I went in. Those heart-numbing lines would stay with me all day, and while it only took about three days to finish, it was a journey. The book follows an Andalusian shepard boy and his quest. Such themes that arise include: following omens, believing in yourself, and finding your Personal Legend. After I put the book down, I decided to get up and go.

I left my house at midnight on Friday (or Saturday…or Allday, depending on your perception of time) with no set plan, rather a motivation to go with the flow and see where life would take me. In my bag, I brought patience and confidence, openness and fire. I hoped on the first bus I saw, which was the 152 heading south into the capital. I watched people get on and off; I read their energies, and tried grasping the moment. As the bus got more and more crowded, I started feeling more and more distant from everyone around me, even as we were physically squished together. I rode the bus until Retiro when I saw a gorgeous park to my right, quickly jumped out, and strolled through the luscious trees. I had never been there before. And what beautiful trees they were! I looked for a street sign: Maipu. I began my journey on a different Maipu next to my house! Synch! I kept reading signs and energies and strolled by the old clocktower, observed the pores on a baby tree, and followed the half moon to Puerto Madero. This extremely rich spot is a nice place to walk around at night with your lady. I, solo, followed flashing lights to the futuristic white bridge and examined gorgeous water reflections, but still, felt a sense of loneliness. I continued on towards El Centro, and this is where my story gets a bit darker. I have always hated El Centro; at night it transforms into a scarier more dead zone of poverty and overall sketchiness. As I was heading towards El Obelisco, I remembered a line from “The Alchemist” that reads, “If something happens once it will never repeat. If something happens twice, it was repeat again and again” (mas o menos) I remembered Isa and my glorious night during the bicentennial with her. Looking at the monument from a distance, I knew I would not find love there. Nothing could match that celestial night. It was one and only. Suddenly, I felt extremely isolated, vulnerable, and alone. I hailed a cab to Plaza Italia and walked to a new pizzeria. When I entered, I looked into the eyes of man with long wavy black hair and a rascally looking face; he smiled a crooked smile and winked at me. I would eat some of the best pizza I’ve had in BsAs with him, Eduardo, and his friend Santiago. We discussed lots of things. The two of them were learning how to juggle claves (juggling is a huge part of Buenos Aires culture) and gave me great advice about northern Argentina. I definitely was drawn to Eduardo’s energy. His Inner Light was shining in that pizzeria and I knew I had to keep following it. All the loneliness I felt in El Centro vanished. We made plans to meet on Sunday.

I awoke at 1 and headed to San Isidro. I took the bus there for the first time (I usually go train) and walked to the main plaza on a different route. I met with my close friends Sergio (the violinist) and Cora. Cora (short for Corazon – heart) is like my Argentinean aunt/mom/godmother. It might be the Judaism connecting us, but whatever it is, there is something special there. She really loves me, has so much faith in me, and wants me to succeed. She has enforced no smoking marijuana in public in Argentina and not to break girls hearts and respect my lovers. If she were my age, we’d probably make a good couple. Although I like my ladies older, she is a little too old. Anyways, she, Sergio, and I gathered around mate and talked (mate really does bring people together - Argentinean culture is so loving…). Cora paints signs-for-the-house on wood with acrylic colors. They are really nice and cute signs. I gave her some ideas to use in English like “Welcome home” and “King of the house”. She speaks English and Spanish and we talk in both. She gave me one her signs (“Bienvenidos” - ironic since we were departing) We said a lovely goodbye and went our separate ways (for now, at least). I followed the setting sun towards Tigre.

When I arrived, I continued my omen-reading which lead my to a huge concert along the river. Loud drums banged and banged out rhythms at high speed. Mermaids contaminated with garbage danced with toddlers. Without questioning anything. I laid my backpack down, leaped into the circle and let my mojo loose (shaking, jumping, thumping, and whomping around). The concert was established to promote recycling and promote awareness about river contamination. It was sweet, the concert that is. Being there made me feel happy talking with 4 year olds and I liked to goof around a bit. My friend Ines came to find me during a crazy beautiful Indian fusion band/show. We walked to her house singing The Beatles and I met her family. Ines is one of my good Tigre friends. We then went to a very “underground” show in Tigre. This recital celebrated Argentine culture and Murga – Carnival spirit. This was a very local show and I felt like I had dropped into the heart of Tigre: great folklore bands, crazy Carnival celebration with amazing costumes and dance, and buena onda! The food and drinks were super cheap, too. We finished four huge cups of Fernet and Cola and two liters of Brahma. Very nice…

We left the show feeling amazing. I was riding very positive energy and decided to act on it. Still, the confusion constantly pounding in my head about a loving relationship (something more) with Ines OR Rosio (gosh, you have no idea how attractive they are. I have liked both of them so much my entire time here and the confusion of yes – no, which one, had been clawing at me muchisimo). So, we went to Tigre Cantobar (which I found out is not actually called Tigre Cantobar…whatever) and things made started to sense. Rosio had been feeling very down when we met up that night. Something along the lines of family issues and parents fighting made her visibly sad. We talked inside Cantobar and I gave her hope. I told her what Juan had told me on the eve of my birthday - that there are two points on a cycle – great and terrible and the ball moves in a circle. The good will end and return to the bad. Climbing out of the bad times is much harder, but it can only be done with some faith and positive thinking, like visioning an image that makes you feel happy. We also talked about the concept of falling in love. If anything made sense from our conversation, it was that Ro and I are meant to be friends, nothing more. She is gorgeous, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have a gorgeous friend. I wouldn’t want to mess anything up with that. Also, I would not want to start anything more right now, right before I take off. The same goes with Ines. Also, I think Ines is a bit confused with what she wants in life. Right now, she wants to be completely understood by someone else and I can’t fill that void for her - especially when she can’t understand herself. So, I left Tigre with lots of love, happiness and a better understanding of my status with my two friends. I slept on the bus back home and missed my stop. Ahh geeeez!

Today, I called Eduardo and we met up outside Muki. As he walked up, he looked like a pirate washed up on concrete roads. Such a cool guy. We walked to the river, which I suggested it since I had never shared time at the river with anyone else. We drank mate, shared fabricas (croissants) and talked about life; he helped me understand where to go in N. Argentina and plan a timeline; we also talked about boy things and the economic crisis of 2001. Eduardo is the man. He teaches kids with special needs and has tons of patience. I really respect him and am glad we crossed paths in the pizzeria. He invited me over this week for pizza. He lives only ten blocks away from my house in Vicente Lopez. Keep it rolling…

I leave this blogpost fulfilled that I have finished telling my story, and if you are still there, I thank you so much for listening and sticking around. I am so glad you read these posts and get something out of it, whatever that feeling may be. I feel like I am in a good place right now. I know I will leave Argentina much different than when I arrived, and will return here in a different state as well. We are constantly changing. We are constantly affecting others around us. As Aldous Huxley says in The Doors of Perception, “We live together, act on, and react to, one another; but always and in all circumstances we are by ourselves.” I do not completely agree with this, but I do like to think that we constantly affect others and learn from those and that around us, all in the hope to further ourselves. I feel like I have grown tremendously since I left The States, a personal journey. Still, I am looking for her, possibly him, to share this life with. Like the boy in “The Alchemist”, I will continue to follow my path. I am an adventurer.

Joda!

Murga!

This local Tigre group brought the heat, spirit and culture of Carnival. Buena buena onda!

Folkloré

This is a shot of two young dancers displaying the traditional Argentinean folkloré dance. It is a fun soulful style of music and dance that I will see shortly in my journey up to northern Argentina, where folkloré and peña culture is copious and fruitful.

Pretty Lights

San Isidro Bookstore

I bought "The Doors of Perception" and a book of Roald Dahl short stories here. Great store! Hot employees!

Me and Cora

My loving San Isidro angel

Blog Post On the Way

When I am done/get a break from writing my final economic Argentine history paper (why did I take this class?), I will write a much-needed, mind clearing blog.
Cameos will include Alduos Huxley, Paolo Coecho, and Eduardo the juggling mate drinker.

A presto!

Tito

Mermelada

I have read the first half of The Alchemist and I know that I am destined to read the book. Ori, the French backpacker with whom I climbed Mount Fitz Roy in Patagonia, recommended it to me while discussing spiritual communication, colors, among other things. With connections concocting and occuring siempre around me, it is the thread of the universe in which I walk, run, boooy, and shimmy-step together with everything as one.

I went to Plaza Serrano for a superpancho (gigantic hotdog) and smashed into Paolo. Remember Paolo? He is the Brazilian blues guitarist I went with to see BB King. I hadnt seen Paolo since... Our meeting in Chronico was a fury of putamadre! after putamadre!, hugging fuertemente in the resto bar. It was a hell of a night, reuniting with him and my Italian friend Matteo (a good compañero from school). Destiny, slamming on our door, brought us together and continued the next day. We played guitar and went to their old hostel where we enjoyed a delicious asado with a giant group of porteños.

I had left class early to play guitar with them. My Argentinean cultural studies teacher, Professor Amaya, said I could go if I play a song. I played two - improvised the first with Spanish lyrics, then played an ol´classic. The students dug the mini show and I received a warm applause. I did my thing and left, smiling wide. Playing guitar and singing in Buenos Aires has boosted my desire to express myself musically. I feel like I should express myself. It makes me happy. Whether its on the subte, or in a feria, or at an asado, I am down to throw down some jams!

NOW, I am off to bed. Lets keep moving forward. All of our paths are interconnected. All is one. Goodnight. Sleep well. Dulce sueños!

An old drawing

Feliz Cumpleaños!

I'm finishing off the last of my cafe con leche, pondering the surreality of ichat. After a mega-ichat session with my entire family in the US, I feel a little exhausted and generally overwhelmed with life - but I'm absolutely sure the last 36 hours have contributed greatly to this bizarre beauty I currently feel.

The last day of being 20-years-old was miserable. It was such a bore, an ugly ulcer that kept pushing me down...

I awake uncomfortably on May 29th to the sound of heavy rain. I peek out my bedroom window and see nothing but an overweight white sky crying on Buenos Aires. I am alone in the house and will remain alone for the majority of the day, trapped in by the imposing weather, but escape to eat lunch by myself in Aquarium Cafe - I hate eating alone. Eventually, my host-family returns to relieve my sorrows. Abril and Juan, my good friends, come by for pizza, a warm change from such a cold day. It's getting late and we are way behind schedule. My friend Kyle is already waiting at the Konex Theater - on the far end of the city. Damnit! Abril, Juan and I grab our umbrellas and trudge through the heavy rainstorm, climb on the 152 bus, and head for Abasto. I accept that I am carrying mala onda, or bad vibes, and share my feelings with my friends. Juan lifts my spirits by saying that there are two points on a cycle of life: the bad time will pass, return to good, and will follow this circle - so I should remain positive, think happy thoughts, and move forward. I try my best, but I can tell Abril is tired and agitated. I feel terrible that I am dragging her along by my mala onda. We finally meet Kyle at the Konex, a minute before I turn 21. I take a happy birthday swig of Quilmes beer and receive plenty of loving hugs. Abril and Juan decide to go home, but I am so happy they were there for the start of a new chapter of my life.

I carefully cross the street and buy my "entrada". We are about to enter La Bomba del Tiempo (or The TImebomb) - Argentina's hottest live music show. La Bomba is also celebrating a birthday - their birthday! - 4 years of intensely fierce percussion explosions! Tonight, things get wild. Directly front-and-center is where the real action is - a massive moshing mob of human flesh and energy. Obviously, I am letting loose in the nucleus of this force. I realize that moshing is a physical form of escape - a raw natural human necessity to express our rage - controlled!- in a loving manner. Long story short, I dance my ass off. Speaking earlier of cycles and connections: The first person I spoke to inside La Bomba was a flyer-giver-outer named Luis. It was a quick, short conversation, but I was drawn to his vibes. Vibes is the recurring theme of the night. Anyways, during an intermission, I fled to get some air and crossed paths with Luis again. Another quick word and we split. I attempted conversations with some hot women, but got no bites. Then, LUIS AGAIN! We buy some drinks (La Bomba has huge beers, cups of wine, and Fernet and Cola). We buy all three and go fishing. At one point we catch two good-looking portenas who also have "buena onda". We talk lots, I am knighted a new nickname "Tito", and we head inside to dance. Luis takes Tamara, I try with Florencia but get shot down. O well. I move on. Luis will be traveling to Cordoba and North Argetina at the same time as me. He has many friends in Salta and Jujuy and will hook me up me with his friends. I am sure that there is something positive connecting us... Entonces, I taxi it back home and awake at 12:15, and like the day before, no one is home.

Today, Cacho, Elvira, and I head over to their daughter Maria Jose's house for an asado - AKA a giant gathering of family and friends around delicious beef and wine. We eat, laugh, laugh some more, eat some more, run around with the cute 2 year old twins, and after food we gather to play some "folklorico" - or traditional Argentinean music consisting of the churango, a ukelele-like guitar, tamborines, and hand clapping. It was awesome. One family member was a professional churango player. Maria Jose's husband is a music teacher and can lay-down some sweet Latin guitar. I contributed vocals. At one point, a danced with my host-mom and it was so beautiful. We loves me so much. I love her too. Argentina has a lot of love... We eat cake. Drink more beer. And leave with huge smiles.

Ahora, it's two minutes before May 31st. i am so happy with my birthday day. It was the complete opposite of yesterday's misery. Looking back, La Bomba was a great great way to blast into 21ness. During the day, we celebrated in the sun and lived fruitfully. As I told my host-parents during the ride home, "este cumpleaños fue muy Argentino!"

La Familia Argentina

Professora Sola (My Argentinean Literature Teacher)

Professor Amaya (AKA the best Argentine teacher ever)

pbfcomics.com

A great website with quick little very funny comic strips...

Move Your Body!

I read a couple short stories by Jorge Luis Borges for my Argentinean Literature class (translated in English). Borges is probably Argentina's most renowned writer and poet. His works are so beautifully written and carefully edited, overflowing with meaning in such a small space. I love Borges because he bends genres (ie: the detective becomes the hunted) and his themes speak directly to me (such as): Reality is our personal perception, seeing the world, and expressing emotion through words as defective - thought becomes language - language distorts feeling. Life is a labaryth, a game, with one center, one ending that will lift us out of the labaryth. If this sounds at all interesting to you, you should read "Death and the Compass" and "The South". I was by far the most talkative person in class yesterday. Leaving class, one friend whispers to me "Dave, you get so deep." I can't help it!

What else? I'm doing well. I went to The Alamo last night and watched the Lakers win in the final second, got way too drunk, but had the most epic siesta in my life today. I had a series of lucid dreams within dreams. I would awake and find myself in another dream, thinking it was my conscious state, but frightened as I found myself stepping on squishy dogs. One time, my friend Kyle went behind me, looked through my eyes and I was overcome with euphoria like I had been Neo sucked into The Matrix. I tolda girl in one dream about my previous dream and she hugged me and vanished. I then found myself awake again wearing a patient bracelet on the front steps of a Jewish hospital and thought I had previously been in a coma, found an Israeli soldier's passport and looked through his life. The siesta carried a mystical dust and I feel like it carried over into my room when I finally settled in "this level". Failing to explain these dreams to my host mom, I let it go and enjoyed some amazing tacos.

More cafe con leche... This new cafe (Muki is packed) is blasting Eiffel 65 - remember "I'm Blue-da-ba-de-da-ba-dai"? Yeah that group. I remember worshipping this album when I was about 10 years old. Looking back at those years is straight bizarre.
Check it out!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A65Ok9WjOdE

I hope you are doin super well. Keep me posted whats happenin in The States or wherever you may be. Email me or whatnot.

Love ya toots,
Dave

Bicentennial

This is a great site with photos from the weekend. Check it out!!!

http://www.boston.com/bigpicture/2010/05/argentinas_bicentennial.html

EL Obelisco

Sunshine Starshine

These 24 hour days stretch long like silly putty. I am sleepy but simply satisfied as I suck up the last of my glorious coffee with vanilla ice cream and whipped cream dessert at Muki, my go-to much-more-than-a-coffee shop coffee shop. I come here because I rarely get internet in casa. But its ok. When I have free time, I usually play guitar.

Last night, my host family invited me to Tutti Fiocchi, their family-owned restaurant/lounge for Danny's birthday. We had a fantastic dinner (home-made pizza and the Argentinean criollo dish 'locro' cooked by Elvira) and plenty of beer. Before cake, I played some improvised songs for the gang. It was a very special night, and again made me appreciate how great a blessing it is that I am paired with this Argentinean family.

Before dinner, I arrived at River Stadium super late, well into the second half of the Argentina vs. Canada friendly. Scoundreling around the giant stadium, I could not find a single ticket; I began talking with a group of Saltenos (N. Argentineans) who had been hustled into buying some fake tickets. They advised me that if we wait around until 10 minutes before end time, security might open the doors for free. Upon hearing this, a giant mob of Argentineans ran and smashed a gate down about 20 meters away from us. Then, a wave of people, me included, sprinted through the gaping hole and leaped up the stone steps. Inside, a loud roar of chants and claps accompanied bright lights to ignite the newcomers into a wild jumping spree. 2 minutes later, Argentina scored their 5th goal! Antonio, my new Salteno friend, lifted me up a spun me around mid-air! I am super uber syked that I got to see the national team (25 minutes) play their last game before the world cup (for free). VAMOS ARGENTINA!

If I haven't mentioned before, it is Argentina's bicentennial today! It is the final day of a long weekend and a long time coming ((200 years...). The spirit around here has been crazy. Crazy spirits they are! People are so excited about Argentina and Argentina soccer its contageous and outrageous. The city was (and still is) on fire with dance, music, parades, etc. I couldnt have come at a better time!

The other night I went with my white-bread friend Kyle to Avenida 9 de Julio (the Obelisco) for a MONSTROUS festival! These colossal streets were closed for a parade which presented all of the Argentinean provinces smack in the heart of the capital between big buildings. While, sipping down Fernet and Cola, we saw llamas, gorgeous women, and giant puppets. Then, we danced and danced to a show highlighting Latin American countries. Columbia threw down some groovy earthy music, but within the celebration and giant mass of people, I lost Kyle. My lonely inebriated state took me away from the spectacle and down the Broadway-like streets of Corrientes. Feeling super down, I coudn't stop questioning and analyzing the massive capitalistic nationalistic 'kilombo' around me. I needed peace so I headed to the Obelisco, Buenos Aries' central monument, and sat quietly on a patch of grass. I took deep breaths in and out, trying to calm myself down... when all of a sudden this girl sat next to me and we began talking. This Chilean cinema student, such a gorgeous soul, fell right into my lap, and suddenly everything became ok. We walked back to the show and raged to Gilberto Gil, who represented Brazil to the max! It was a hot jam! I had Isa with me the whole night and it felt so good to be in the company of a beautiful stranger. We shared LATE night/early morning pizza and fernet and cola in Plaza Seranno and everything was sweet.

Tomorrow, we will go back to school and the normality of life beyond the bicentennial. Argentina has had a little holiday break and now must get back in the zone. While these stories I write might give the impression I am only partying and such, I only choose to pick the really good times that stand out that I'd like to share. Obviously, life isn't great all the time, but it has been rather f'in lovely down here. Still, I am studying harder than the other internationals and getting better notes, which makes going out so much better. Work hard - play hard.

While I head to University of Belgrano every week, the streets feel like my formal school here. I get a lot more by mixing with people on the corner, the train, the subway, and wherever else I may be. Whether its by barging into a Argentinean soccer game or sharing dinner with my host family - I am gaining so much from this very human experience.

More Photos Added

Finally

Closer and closer

Road to Mount Fitz Roy

Catarata hike with Diego (my roommate)

Dawn

Chinese Lunatics!

Me and the Glaciar

Lago Argentino - El Calafate

How I experienced "the end of the world"

Overlooking Ushuaia from flight 2872, I notice white spots tucked tightly together by the coast. Many islands scatter under tall snowy mountains, and I feel good. Screw this poetic crap! I’m gonna cut this short. Ushuaia sucked. I had enormous expectations of the most southern city on Earth aka “the end of the world”. I imagined a small quiet town - an ice desert with penguins and fishermen frolicking side-by-side. But no. Ushuaia is a dirty city congested with boats and cars, construction and overpriced chocolate. The indigenous museum was equivalent to a few high school history projects wrapped together in someone’s old house. The all you can eat Chinese buffet was a HUGE mistake! Tourist traps were everywhere. But! I cooked a nice fish dinner with Jacque The Frenchman and went on a fabulous boat ride this morning where I was able to unwind, meet some lovely ol’ Paraguayan ladies, and see some hilarious sea lions! Have you ever seen sea lions (or lobos) in their natural environment? They sit on a rock and scream all day - my new favorite animal!

I am back in Buenos Aires where I enjoyed a hot shower and delicious comforting home-cooked dinner with Elvira and Cacho. Elvira taught me some French: a na pa de qua (your welcome) and se’ fini (enough)...does that sound right?

Ok. Off to bed. I’ll post photos soon.

Love
Dave (aka D-A-Go! or Julio)

Now flip the page.

Bigfoot has small hands.
Nessy´s not in Scotland.
Flying saucers - US plans
To distract from wars
In far off lands.
The moon man´s
A TV star
Your chocolate cigar
Is delicious.

These fictitious realities
Are poetry
For you and me.
We´re super
For superstitions
Flipping coins
In fountains wishing
For universal mending change
To make the day
A monument...

Now flip the page.

"Somos aventureros!"

Patagonian phonies dont trekk to the top. They stay dropped at the bottom, with their cameras locked. But hell no this kid goes all! Dressed to be impressed, trudging up Mount Fitz Roy! Yeah boy! Carnivores crunch on bones, dont fuck aroud with soy. Me and Ms. French bring tha heat! Melting snow at our feet. We make our move to the top: rock turns to ice, ice turns to snow, snow turns to glaciar. Its D-A-Go! An 8 hour hike beyond everyones advice. We trekked straight through the night. We´re adventurers, right! Its a sight beyond sights. Visions ignite. Everything is morphing. Im better than alright! When we plummet down the mountain, Go! loses his feet. Twists up an ankle and bitter takes over sweet. Its raining its howling its time to press on. Eat another banana Mount Fitz Roy we´re gone!

Crawl back to the hostel and Im wrung out and drained. After a long ass shower Im chillen out the pain. A lane ahead says go, sleep tight long with ease. Tomorrow we´ll see which way blows the breeze.

D-A-GOOOOO!

Wind. Water. Ice.

There are no words to describe the glaciar in El Calafate - only sounds: OooHH!! WHOAAAH!!! AhhhhH! UggGHH!!!

Today was mind-blowing!

I hiked on the glaciar, went under the glaciar,licked the glaciar, and drank scotch on the glaciar! Our group was a trail-mix of travelers of many ages, countries, cultures, etc. And while stereotypes are mean, they are true and really funny, too. The stars of the pack were three Chinese men who took pictures all the time. It was not anywhere near annoying because they were absolutely hilarious - posing with everyone, making ridiculous faces, and constantly falling out of the group. Nice!

People, including myself, constantly took pictures of the fascinating glaciar and posed with the massive block of white and blue ice, but I believe that doing this strips away layers of its beauty. There is something very different between seeing pictures and actually being there - swept up by the wind, breathing in chill, and hearing the delayed sounds of ice cracking and plummeting into the freezing water below. While no photo can truly bring back the past, it serves as a lovely reminder. Also, I hate digital. Any color in digital format is a code represented by numbers. I have a feeling mankind will lose all digital information one day, demonstrating how we must take in the present moment as it is, and not save it for tomorrow. Still, how can you not shoot away at such a beautiful creature (the glaciar, that is)! Upon hearing growls emerging from the monstrous being, I asked a man next to me what that sound is. He replied, "its everything - wind, water, and ice all in one." I really liked his response.

Tomorrow I will go up to El Chalten, a small town three hours away. I hear there are wonderful hikes there by Mount Fitz Roy. Id like to go to Torres del Paine, Chile but its too cold to go trekking for days and days, camping in the freeze. So, El Chalten tomorrow. Gotta get back to BsAs by Wednesday. For now, I will enjoy a hot shower, leftover pasta, a cold Iguana, and Harry Potter 7.

I love you so much.

D-A-Go!

PS: I met two awesome British girls last night in the hostel and I found out two things about my life: I know what I will pursue when I return to The States...AUDIO BOOK VOICE-OVERS! I recited The Lord of the Rings with such passion that my future opened right in front of me. Then, I will have separate fun rooms in my mansion - one with trampolines and velcro walls, one with colorful play balls to swim through, zip lines going this way and that, a car with ben and jerries ice cream emerging from the center console, and a firepole from my bedroom to my car with ben and jerry´s in the center console.

Also, I am Lee Mead - the British theatre actor/singer... I just heard of him but we look very alike enough for me to do more independent reseach on this Brit.

Anyways, GO HARRY and GO LAKERS!

NEW POST ADDED

More Uruguay photos next week...

I am now in Patagonia and it is stunningly beautiful. Harry Potter 7 is getting hot and bloody. All is great. I make really good pasta. Sleep is necessary. Hiking on a glaciar tomorrow. Love!

Dave

Sunset (Photo taken by one of the Europeans - our meeting)

Dos Soles

Parrots and Pigeons

Its Saturday night in Punta del Este, the party capital of Uruguay, and the streets are deserted. The band of traveling students – the Brit, the Dutch, the Irish, the German, and the American – look around for signs of life, but the city is undoubtedly dead. Not only this, but the Uruguayan law states that no one is allowed to sell alcohal for another 24 hours until the election ends… More like Punta del Suck.

Flashback 30 hours before: the American, David Roston, is sprinting down the long terminal - FINAL BOARDING FOR COLONIA. He leaps into the Buquebus before takeoff, sticks his sweaty back on the open leather seat beside the lovely-looking brunette, and breathes deep. The boat ride across the world’s widest river feels like a momentito as the boat docks into Uruguay - the sun hangs high in the bright blue sky, lighting the small town with sparkles. Big banners line the cobblestone streets as classic autos creep along the walking backpacker. It’s election season in Uruguay and the people are enthused and amused - the American is confused but pursues. He eventually finds El Espanola, a quaint hostel tucked behind some side streets, plops his bag on the top bunk, and meets Bob, a traveling sailor with long white hair and beard, resembling Gandalf The White from The Lord of the Rings. But, their conversation is cut short, David realizes the sun is descending, grabs a free bike from the back and rides without map towards the lighthouse in the “antigua district.” As the sun paints the sky a deep orange, the American straddles the long white wall looking out to sea; he notices two youngins who need assistance with a photo and offers help. After a quick conversation, celestial sunset with TWO suns (see photo) and deep revelations of life peace and nature, The American is invited to dinner by the other students. Here, David meets the full group of Europeans: three pretty girls, Amy, Lisa, and Eva; and Mark, the gay Amersterdamian funnyguy.

Flash-forward three hours and David is onstage playing guitar with Juan The Keyboardist in a local bar, jamming out some Spanish blues. After some sweet sangria, three delicious crepes, and a lovely night, the group splits to their separate hostels and makes plans to meet up the following day. As he predicted, the American fell right into the lap of destiny, his guardian angel.

Flash-forward 12 hours and David is free-flying down the Colonia coast on a 3 dollar rented vespa alongside his school program assistant Pamela and boyfriend. The two parties coincidentally crossed paths ten minutes prior in the Colonia Pirate Museum. After a scrumptious lunch of chivitos, a bomb Uruguayan meat sandwich, Dave heads back to El Espanola and cuts out - meets his fellow travelers and books it in a rented car to Montevideo. Palm trees align the road out of Colonia. The endless fields on either side show endless possibilities.

Upon a sunset arrival, Montevideo seems sketchy. The capital city is quiet and lurking with bad vibes. With a big stretch and yawn and newly bought Harry Potter 7 in hand, David and the gang say sianara to Montevideo.

Punta del Este offers nothing but a great fish dinner with delicious white wine. The Europeans know significantly more about wine than the American who feels naive and stupid in their uber snooty wine connoisseur presence. Whatever. Cheers!

The next morning, the gang splits up. David heads to the beach to see The Hand (a big sculpture arising from the sand) then books it further east as the others return the opposite way to Buenos Aires. A stop in San Carlos opens time for the American to roam the lively town and meet some die-hard political supporters of Dario, their lord and savior. Next to the bus terminal, David enjoy a huge milanesa sandwich with chicken jam cheese fried egg jalipenos and tons of sauces. Buen provecho!

[SIDENOTE TO EVERYONE: The Uruguayans know how to drink mate, much more than the Argentineans, who seem like pansy fairies in comparison. The Uruguayans drink it all day long and carry a thermos and mate with them everywhere. Plus, The Uruguayan yerba is ten times stronger. As my friend Troy put it, THIS SHIT IS STRAIGHT CRACK!]

When David arrives in La Paloma, he heads over to the empty tourist information booth. Little does David know that there is almost nothing touristy about this tiny town. He finds ONE piece of paper behind the desk, a flyer for BEACH HOSTEL, embroidered with colorful photos of hot girls and sunsets. At the top reads, THEY WILL PAY YOUR CAB FEE FROM THE BUS STATION. Good enough. Take me there.

At BEACH HOSTEL, David meets the owner Ricardo, a tall dark imposing man with a white soul patch. As they split some of David’s mate, Ricardo keeps shouting, “THIS IS SHIT! SHIT!” displaying his extensive English vocabulary. The only other people staying at BEACH HOSTEL were a British family of mom dad and their 4 year old daughter Amelia, who have been traveling all her life. Amelia is the most angelic little girl ever. She never cries, is full of life, and very playful. David watches with astonishment as the parents tell their daughter they just rented a house for 3 months in La Paloma and the girl accepts without fuss – super normal, super awesome. What an amazing way to see the world in the most fertile years of consciousness and understanding of the world. This family is so cool.
David thinks.

David rides around La Paloma on a free bike and picks up food supplies, cooks an incredible pasta dish, watches a mind-blowing Argentinian supermodel contest with Ricardo in his backhouse, and mentally prepares for the next morning.

Surfing. Dave walks down the coast in a raggedy wetsuit, clutching a red foamboard by his side. There are no other souls in sights as David heads into the freezing water. Note: DON’T WEAR A WETSUIT WITH HOLES. IT DOESN’T WORK! Still, Dave has peaceful clarity with mother nature. The previous sunset alone on the beach brought solidarity and emptiness, but in contact with the water, a whole new feeling arises inside him – one of passion and fulfillment. David rides one and a half waves, practices Tai Chi in the water, and heads back to BEACH HOSTEL shower.

When leaving La Paloma (which means The Pigeon) David witnesses a mid-air battle between armies of green-and-red parrots and black-and-white pigeons - Chromophilia versus Chromophobia. Sweet!

The more I realize that everything happens for a reason, the more I can accept what is going on in the present moment. Life might not make sense while it’s occurring, but it all fits into place and works out in the end. Traveling makes this especially evident, but in whichever case, the most important thing to do is go. Staying in one place pulls you down. SO GO!

San Lorenzo!

Red Clouds

I could go out and do anything by myself. For me, it has been way more fun doing so. Sunday, after playing tennis, futbol, and eating another asado with the family and friends, I took the 15 bus to Boeda - a part of town one would never wanna venture if it wasnt Sunday. I got off the colectivo with other youngins wearing red and blue, found a lone girl and started talkin and walkin. "This is my first San Lorenzo game - in fact - my first Argentinian soccer game!" Stefani turned out to be destiny. We walked to the stadium through Baja Flores, an even worse part of town, and arrived at the cancha. I bought a ticket for Popular, the really rowdy die hard fan section with banners, flags, colored umbrellas, bass drums, and clouds of marijuana smoke. Let me just say that Argentinian soccer is the bomb! These guys chant songs (about 20 different ones) throughout the whole game, jump around and go nuts. The real excitement is in the stands. Constant energy. The best part about the whole game was after we blew a 1-0 lead and lost the game, there was huge celebration after the match! Everyone was yelling, jumping around, and having fun. I looked up in complete euphoria and absorbed the sky: a deep blue with red clouds - nature screaming SAN LORENZO! On the bus back, I met even more great people, shared sweet wine, and made plans to go back for another game.

Last night, I went solo to The Alamo, an American bar in the Recoleta to watch my Lakers whoop the Jazz. Upon getting out of my taxi, I noticed three girls wandering around, speaking English. "Goin to The Alamo?" We enter the joint to find gigantic pitchers and televisions flowing throughout the classy yellow and brown antique walls. This place could have been a smooth tango bar in the 30s, but has been conquered by ´merkins! Flip cup, Rage Against the Machine and Red Hot Chili Peppers on repeat. I practiced my English and and went college style on everyone. All in all - great night. One of the girls (who happens to go to my school here in BsAs) is a choreographer and amazing dancer. Lets just say we tore up the entire place with our Miguel Jackson duets.

Mate in the morning after 4 AM McDonalds french fries and fiery fiber flowing through my body. Dont worry ma and pa, I am going to all my classes and doing exceptionally well. It´s impossible to avoid the good air out there in the night.

Naturaleza Muerta

Torro miedo
Hombre en pedo
Quiero hablar algo
Pero no puedo

Es la sangre del pintor
Los huesos de escultor
Las memorias del fotógrafo
Y el accento del escritor

Buscame en el bosque
En la mente del mar
El el ritmo del bombo
De la bomba
A Irán

10 NEW PHOTOS AND POST ADDED!

EL PALMAR VISTA

After the Storm (Moldy Clothes, Cold Night)

Atardecer

La Luz de la Luna

NATURE´S EAR

Mate!

CACHO!