Hey everyone. Much appologies for my recent hiaetus from writing. I have now created another blog (www.savideotourist.wordpress.com) that will be devoted to posts about videos from South America (that I or friends have taken). This blog will remain focused on texts and annecdotes.

Future satire to come, stay posted...

Why you should never go paragliding when there isn't wind, despite what the guides may tell you (crafty bastardos). Our group, and especially my friend, learned a valuable lesson that day. This is a few hours from Bariloche in Argentina.

Note: Nobody was harmed by this crash. Perhaps a few egos, some hopes and ambitions, and a parachute.

I've taken a temporary hiaetus from Lima and have embarked on a familiar journey around the southern cities of Peru for a couple weeks.

It's the exact same loop I did 4 months ago (a bit eerie to be back to all the same spots), except with a non-touristy twist this time. It's all "work" related (I use " since it's really a volunteering gig, ie: no pay) so I'm going around visiting various projects by Ashoka fellows in Peru in remote villages and "pueblos." It's an incredible experience learning and experiencing these projects up close that I normally would never even hear about. And don't worry, I'll highlight all the good stuff here along the way. All you need to know now is that I could use a cup of real coffee soon...NON instant please.

If you have a Peru map handy...here's my current route:
Lima - Ica - Arequipa (currently here now) - Ayaviri - Cusco - Lima.

Future trips of this similar nature:
Huancayo (highlands)
Tambopato (jungle)
Puerto Maldonado (also jungle)

There's no beaten path where this vagabond is heading...at least I haven't seen one yet.

I wish monkeys were involved, they make every experience exponentially greater. This is a video of a zipline in Ecuador at an ecological reserve project called Tucanopy in the Cloud Forest (they're always accepting volunteers...just saying...)

These kids are freaking adorable. This is in Ecuador from the school, El Mundo Feliz, where the group volunteered.

This is quite possibly the coolest concert I've ever been to. It's called "La Bomba del Tiempo" and goes on every Monday night in Buenos Aires, Argentina. If you're ever there, I HIGHLY, HIGHLY recommend making it there - it's quite the experience.
Here's a taste of it...



Here's a clip of the finale rock out session. It was intense and the crowd was going nuts!

Comments are back online for those interested in sharing their thoughts...

This video is taken while on a bus trip from the northern beaches down to Lima, Peru.  The trip should take 18 hours however about 11 hours into it I drowsily woke up to this scene.  We were eventually stuck in this 'middle of nowhere' spot for 9 hours (!!). This is just a few of the ridiculousness that went on. Eventually a road was built in the sand made of rocks and trash (from a trash truck that happened to be stuck).

Note: How close our bus is to the crash site. Scary...  

As I wrote below, my recent return to the US was quite the shock for which I was apparently not entirely prepared mentally.  Well it also managed to get me in some funny situations of "cultural differences."

As I said earlier, I came overly prepared to my flight and ended up having some left over food I had intended on eating on the plane.  Of this was a mandarine from Peru.  I've been coming into US customs since I was 4 years old so this process is not new for me.  If you've never flown into the US, it's usually a very daunting experience meant to make you feel as if you've done something wrong and they'll catch you -even though you haven't.  There are officers circling around giving the meanest "stink eye" looks to everyone that could seemingly have anything on their person (those damned dogs will get you, watch out!).  Well, usually there's a spot where you can last minute throw away any fruit or objects that you "mistakenly" brought over.

When I got into customs I remembered I still had that mandarine on me (big "NO NO" for the US customs) and I looked for a trash can for about 10 min, circling around the whole baggage claim area.  I wasn't getting the friendliest looks so I just went ahead through customs.  The man, without a hint of emotion in his voice, asked me if I had anything  to declare and I responded my usual "no" and then nonchalantly said "oh, but I have this mandarine that I'm trying to throw away, any idea where I can do that?"  All of a sudden his eyes lit up as if I had just told him his first born daughter was knocked up and responded with "a mandarine!? Oh, well step over this way!" and pointed me to the "other" line.  For those that don't know, this is the line you desperately pray you don't have to go into; it's the one filled with customs officers prying their latex covered hands into foreigners' bags, imposing the inquisition upon their every object they've attempted to bring to our holy country, and judging them every step of the way.  I've never actually experienced this line, but I've heard horror stories of being stuck there for hours, fined for thousands of dollars, and many many tears being shed.

Needless to say I was not excited.  I slowly meandered through the line doing the "customs walk of shame" as vivid images came to my head of my bag being torn apart as I'm in tears, being scolded for bringing certain articles that unbeknownst to me are illegal to bring from Peru ("but they're just ceramic coasters...oh, you don't need to smash them like that...come on man!"), and a wedding gift I brought wrapped getting smashed and torn to pieces.  I get to the check spot and the guy asks me what I have to declare and I tell him about the mandarine I'm trying to throw away.  He responds "oh, a mandarine" (apparently I'm missing something here...), he then grabs it from my hand, holds it up above his head, yells "MANDARINE, WE HAVE A MANDARINE" - at that moment I wished I could bury my head indefinitely into my shoulders. Some other official came and grabbed it and went to some computer.  I was left awkwardly standing there.  I asked the guy if I could just throw it away and he told me "nope, you have to declare a mandarine."  Apparently there USED TO BE trash cans where you could toss last minute fruit and produce, but NOT ANYMORE (lucky me).  Now everything has to be declared.  I stood there frantically envisioning me never being allowed to travel because of some red flag on my passport marking me as a "mandarine smuggler."  I would soon work the black market selling smuggled peruvian mandarines at insanely high prices, purchasing muscle, and creating a mafia-like monopoly of the mandarine business.  My thoughts were interrupted as he gave me my passport back and said I was all good, except he'd have to hold on to the mandarine.  I smiled, made a smart ass, sarcastic joke, and went on my merry way.

I have no idea what he hammered away on that computer or what my "passport permanent record" now reads.  I do know one thing for sure:  I am never taking a mandarine international again.

Recently I returned to CA from being a good 4.5 months in South America.  I had an intense case of reverse culture shock as soon as I stepped on that plane.

My parents managed to get me on Business Class with their miles and let me tell you, after getting used to busing it around everything, it felt like I stepped into a 10 star luxury resort (my new star system of course).  Of course I had no idea what I was getting myself into and packed a backpack full of snacks (fruit, a chicken salad, nuts, cliff bars, etc, etc) as if I were embarking in a 20 hour bus ride with nothing to eat but the occassional vendors that would wander onto the bus.   This was obviously unnecessary since I arrived at the airport with access to the VIP lounge (that offered unlimited appetizers and refreshments - obviously I pounded a few fantas...obviously.) and then basically anything I wanted once I passed that magnificent curtain that beholds the promise land.  I actually remember the exact moment I realized I "wasn't in Kansas anymore" and I was foolishly over prepared.  It was when the flight attendant (I had 4 waiting on me!) asked me if I wanted "a chicken sandwich or squash soup for my snack" (snack!?) and then handed me a giant card to fill out my breakfast options (options!?) that notably consisted of french press coffee, fresh fruit, yogurt, whole wheat bread (sweet jesus!), and how I wanted my eggs (NOT "if" but "how!!").  This was all, of course, after she had just brought my introductory champagne - I could definitely get used to this.

Appologies to all, but a recent last minute trip back to California for a wedding and what not for a couple of weeks has rendered my postings nonexistent.  New posts up soon, I promise.

This has definitely taken some getting used to for me. 

Sometimes when you get a check at a restaurant in Latin America the waiter (waitress) will just tell you the total or give you a blank bill with a figure (see below).


And after more than 4 months here and my many trips to South America, I still have no idea if/when tip is included - it still boggles my mind.  These "informative" checks are by no means helping me solve this mystery any time soon...

I'm a bit out of creativity for writing stories so I'm going to be a bit cheesy and post this poem that a friend introduced me that fits too perfectly...

Facing West From California's Shores

Facing west, from California's shores,
Inquiring, tireless, seeking what is yet unfound,
I, a child, very old, over waves, towards the house of maternity, the
land of migrations, look afar,
Look off the shores of my Western Sea—the circle almost circled;
For, starting westward from Hindustan, from the vales of Kashmere,
From Asia—from the north—from the God, the sage, and the hero,
From the south—from the flowery peninsulas, and the spice islands;
Long having wander'd since—round the earth having wander'd,
Now I face home again—very pleas'd and joyous;
(But where is what I started for, so long ago?
And why is it yet unfound?)

- Walt Whitman

--I second that, all of it.



The westbound shores I got to face this last weekend in Mancora, Peru (don't worry, I have a few tales from that trip):

Ha, I love this. So we were at my favorite bar in Quito, Finn McCool's - every now and then you have to find yourself in an Irish pub, it's like being home. Well, we got to talking to some Irish or English guy and he told us that we HAD to go to Bolivia. He really didn't give us much details except for the fact that it's cheap and it's the "Fíng wild west of South America, man!" He repeated that about 5 times to us.

I am yet to go to Bolivia, or figure out what that statement means. When I do, I'll be sure to let you all know.

Contrary to what the title suggests, this is not about some girl named "Maria." It is actually the word used in Costa Rica for taxi meters - you know, those things that legitimize the amount you're paying for travel, especially when you have no clue where you're going. Well the country should look into a massive "maria" restoration project because when we were there (about 3 years ago), they were all conveniently "broken."

One town especially was infamous for its "broken marias," Manuel Antonio. Even if the meter was connected and looked perfectly workable, it "would not work" - must be that gringo charm. Sometimes we would get the most absurd explanations and others there would just be the awkward silence. One even pulled a meter from his dash with wires dangling attempting to plug it in until we just told him to drive.

One of my friends who struggled with spanish a bit summed it all up perfectly one day returning from the bars after another broken maria argument (in the best spanish I've ever heard from him and perfectly conjugated): "Todas las marias en esta ciudad están rotas" (All the "marias" in this town are broken).