...

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.