Love Is The Place That You're Drawn To
Monday, June 18, 2012
Saturday, May 26, 2012
More Photos!
I've slowly been adding new photos to another website of mine. Please check 'em out when you get a chance. I will continue to add more, so keep and eye out for updates! Cheers.
Modern Rainbows Photos
Monday, May 14, 2012
Saturday, April 7, 2012
Crossing the Andes
The wine country of Mendoza was, well, a wonderful bike ride. I was on my bike, which I rented for the day, by 9:30 am. Soon after, off and exploring the region. As the day started, my head was pounding. The pain was near unbearable and I had not even drank a drop of wine! I decided to try food for an antidote, but finding it this early was the problem. Looking at my map, I found that down the road was an olive oil producer. They must have some kind of food, right? Gotta dip that olive oil in something!
3 olive oils, 1 balsamic, 3 olive spreads, 3 dulce de leches, 3 marmalades, 2 pepper sauces and endless amounts of bread and my head was getting back to normal. The dulce de leche with coco was amazing! I must have had 5 pieces of bread smothered with it. I even purchased an funky marmalade that I can't seem to remember at the moment. It tasted like Fall and I imagined it on some toast in the city on a cold October morning. About to walk out the door, the worker stopped me and told me that I had to try the chocolate and two of the liquors they produced there. I have never really been one for green liquors, but somehow after reading all of the labels, those are the two I went for. The first, a hot pepper flavor that didn't burn until about 20 seconds after sipping it. The second was something I had only tried once in my life before in 2007, absinthe. It still tastes gross.
Riding away from the olive oil place, my head felt immensely better and I was finally ready for wine. The smell of wine poured out from the building on my left. On the right were vineyards as far as the eye could see. The sun was getting stronger, but not yet overwhelming. Getting to the main road, a bike lane went along either side, giving plenty of room for wobbly riders at the end of the day. I visited 4 different wineries that afternoon ranging from Trapiche, the largest winery in Argentina, to Bodega Familia Di Tommaso, a family run joint that has been around since 1869. I enjoyed lunch in the shade of a giant tree, sipping on malbec and eating far too much fresh bread with olive oil. Correction: never too much fresh bread with olive oil. Returning the bike at 5:30 that evening, my body was drained. I went through 3 liter of water before 2pm. Riding all day between glasses of wine, the sun beating down, the smell of wine flooding my nostrils... it was beauty. NYTimes.com actually put up an article 36 Hours in Mendoza the day after I left.
Now, I've have seen amazing things in so many different ways... Iguazu Falls, Amazon Jungle, pristine and empty beaches, animals of all shapes and sizes... right up there at the top of the list would be driving through the Andes Mountains and entering Chile. Most of my bus rides, such as the one I'm doing in a few hours, are at night. That way I can save a nights pay on a hostel and I get an extra day wherever I am. Going from Mendoza to Valparaiso was one of the few long bus rides that I did during the daylight. It was such a good idea. Driving through the mountains on a road cut into the rock was breathtaking. The elevation we were at had to be a staggering height, only to end the trip 8 hours later at sea level. Again, an experience I will never forget.
Valparaiso... I arrived late at night and figured it would be a better idea to take a taxi, not knowing how far I would have to walk or the safety of the neighborhoods. Talking with people later, this was a good decision. I got to a bed and breakfast style hostel and immediately was excited by the city. The hostel, like so many before, was full of people from around the entire world, listening to music, playing cards, sipping wine. Being a Sunday night with nothing open, I had to settle for yogurt, a banana and apple for dinner, but some new friends shared a beer and we laughed over games of cards for the remainder of the evening.
Valparaiso is a city of hills, old buildings and 19th century outdoor elevators, all covered in art. Once my pictures get up, you'll have a better idea of what I mean. The most beautiful graffiti, embraced by the city, gives the place a feel unlike anywhere else I have ever visited. The home owners go along with it, painting their homes in bold colors, making a whole city look like the La Boca neighborhood of Buenos Aires. I ventured around the city with two friends, Rowan and Emma, that I had met the previous night at the hostel. We walked the new place, getting lost and loving it. At one point we went to the first cemetery in the city to have a look around. Arriving just after it had closed, we were pretty bummed. However, the night watchman let us in and gave us a personal tour with me translating for the other two. It started off normal, history, famous people, ect. It got a little stranger when we showed us a section that had been completely destroyed by the 2010, 8.8 earthquake that rocked the city. Apparently they had not gotten around to cleaning it all up and there were still bones sticking out of buried rocks. It got even stranger as he pulled a human skull out of a bag of bones and asked if we wanted to pose with it. I think he has spent a few too many nights alone in the graveyard.
The hostel itself was really the best part of Valparaiso. I wasted the hours away with some truly fantastic people. Each evening the owner would make fresh bread and each morning we'd all pile around the kitchen table eating the bread and drinking coffee or tea. Nights were spent playing cards, cooking food, sharing drinks, talking for hours about our travels and taking turns on youtube introducing each other to new bands. I loved those 3 days in Valpo.
I took a bus with my new English friends to La Sirena. It was their first time ever stepping foot in the Pacific. Unfortunately, it was a very cold Pacific. However, there is plenty of photographic documentation for their records. La Sirena is a small city with 29 churches, some dating back almost 400 years, only partially demolished by earthquakes. Small, but wonderful, the city has a very welcoming charm, with a large town center and markets all along the surrounding streets.
Last night, my two friends and I decided to have a "proper bbq", as they would say. We grilled peppers and onions, corn, chicken, chorizo and steak. It was a delicious meal and the company was outstanding. Pisco, is a liquor made in this region of the world, somewhat sweet and extremely easy to drink. We finished a bottle and then some wine, turning the night into a heated laughing session in the cool evening. They are still at the beginning of their trip with Bolivia, Peru and Ecuador ahead of them. I am at the end, off to Santiago tonight for a short time before heading back above the equator. It's all coming too fast...
Friday, March 30, 2012
Montevideo to Mendoza and the Madness in between
Hello again.
It's been a while, no? I apologize to all of my loyal fans who have been crying themselves to sleep at night over the lack of modern rainbows in their lives. Luckily, the rainbows are back.
There are honestly too many stories, people, places that I have experienced to share all or even most. So, I'll do my best to summarize the past month and a half of solitude from you all...
The last story was written in the Panama City Airport, this one comes from the Monkey Hostel in Mendoza, Argentina. After 8 long hours sitting in that airport I found myself in Montevideo, Uruguay and at the beginning of the low in my trip. Montevideo is great, don't get me wrong. However, leaving friends in Ecuador, missing my good pals from home and a few shady experiences in rapid sequence left me pretty damn bummed. In an effort to solve the puzzle of how to snap my mood and turn things around I did what I thought best... went to the beach.
Punta Del Diablo, Uruguay will always be a special place for me. I can remember the feel of the warm rocks, after a day of taking in the sun's rays, under my bare feet as I inhaled the salty air. Makes me think of a Modest Mouse song right now. It still took a while to get all of the wires in my brian working right again, but the ocean air was indeed a good antidote. I was staying at a small hostel with a tree house, a few hammocks and, as I would soon find out, a lot of really good people. I paid for the first 3 days, but informed the guy at the front desk that I was not sure how long I would actually be staying. On the third day, he offered me a deal where I would work at the hostel and stay for free. Having no real plans, being on a tight budget and Uruguay being very expensive, I agreed. The only catch to this incredible deal was that I would have to work the shift from 1am - 8am. The work was minimal to none, but I would have to remain awake and functioning for those 7 hours. This turned out to be completely and utterly wonderful.
In Uruguay (along with Argentina, as I would discover) people don't go out until VERY late. I'm talking 4 or 5 in the morning. This worked out brilliently. I would "work" from 1 until 4 with lots of company- drinking, laughing, playing guitar. By the time my shift was over at 8, the gang was just stumbling back. In the heat of the day, which often approached 100, we all slept or went to the beach for a few hours. I became a great fan of the late afternoon nap, cooked meals for myself all the time and read a few books. My favorite time of day quickly became sunrise. Usually I was still alone at this time. Most people were still at the bars or had gone to bed long ago. Each morning I would sit in the tree house with atun, the hostel puppy, and watch the sky catch fire. Each time was better than the last.
I could go on and on about the quality of the people I met at the hostel. The girls from Chile and Argentina... the guys from Cordoba... or my favorite roommate of the whole trip, Enzo, one of the few Uruguayan natives, just at the beach to escape life for a week. They were all fantastic. I was the last one to leave the hostel and parting with each was sad, but the experiences we shared were fastastic. A great thing to come from this was the improvement in my Spanish. With the exception of a few, no one spoke English. It was wonderful. At no point of my trip have I felt as confident in my Spanish as I did during my 2 weeks in Punta Del Diablo.
I went back to Montevideo, hoping to keep the good vibes going and conquer the city in which I had felt the worst. I did. Montevideo turned out to be a wonderful city. Beautiful buildings, parks every few blocks and my favorite place of all, Marcado Del Puerto. It is an old train station (I think) that was turned into a meat market. Not only could you purchase meats, the Marcado was lined with restaurants, throwing free wine at you just so that you'd look at their menu for two minutes. That steak is one of the best I have had in my life...
A few days later I met a really cool guy named Mike and it turned out that we were both headed to the same place, Colonia Del Sacramento. If you ever find yourself in Argentina or Uruguay, make sure this is a stop on your list. We camped, cooked food on the grill, drank whiskey, you know, real manly stuff (although I know some great Yellowstone ladies who could out camp, out grill and out whiskey drink me any day). It was a nice change a pace and I always sleep great in my tent and sleeping bag. On my last night, Mike had left for Buenos Aires to meet up with his sister and I went to a hostel, just for the free breakfast in the morning. The breakfast was great. So great that I actually got two! I sat and read my book in the morning's early sunlight, between pages debating where I should go next on my trip. I had a boat booked to bring me to Buenos Aires that evening, but was still torn about where to go once I got there. As I sat and debated, sipping on my coffee, I was joined by a girl from Germany and a guy from England. They were each leaving that day as well, but like me, had a few hours to kill first. We got to talking, then we got to eating lunch and venturing to a near by beach before departing. It was not until talking with them on the beach that I decided I would head to Iguazu National Park next. Nothing like a nice little 22 hour bus ride...
It's funny to think about the decisions that have shaped the course of my trip. Something like that... Iguazu, Patagonia, Mendoza... It was a very last minute decision, but a decision made, friends met, experiences had, lives changed. Ever seen the movie Sliding Doors? You should. So, dreading that 22 hour bus ride, I took my seat, pulled out my head phones and a pen and paper. I had not even written a thing down or switched on my iPod by the time my decision to head to Iguazu had already changed the course for the rest of my trip. Two girls sat across from me and.... they spoke English. Naturally, I sparked a conversation and over the course of those 22 hours, 3 Angelina Jolee Films, 2 ham and cheese sandwiches and countless cd's listened to, we had become friends.
Sam and Lauren are from England and have lovely English accents. I love doing a terrible English accent and being in their company made it impossible to resist. We spent the next 2 weeks together. We played over 200 games of cards and kept a tally of who won each game (amazingly, when we finished the spread from 1st place to 3rd place was only 5 games). We cooked, or really, they cooked, delicious dinner every night. We laughed, explored and lived, together.
Iguazu was the first place we shared. Unfortunately, no words I can say would even do the slightest bit of justice to how awesome (old school definition of the word- awe inspiring) that place really is. Hands down, one of the most incredible things I have ever seen. Go and see for yourself.
After Iguazu, we went to Rosario. Again, wonderful people were waiting. Rosario was home to probably my favorite hostel of the trip. The rooms were ok, typical 8 to a room, hospital style sheets, communal bathroom, ect, but the people and the overall feeling shared by everyone was amazing. I celebrated my birthday after the 3rd day in Rosario. Happy Birthday was sung to me in 8 different languages and I did not buy a single drink (remember, some of these people had only known me hours and they were still buying me a drink). It was a fantastic birthday. Cordoba followed and for 5 days we explored surrounding towns, napped in parks, played cards and drank wine... lots of wine. One night in Cordoba we ended up spending about 5 hours with one of the most... bizarre, would be a kind word, people I have ever met. I will never forget him. It's certainly worth the story, so ask me about him some time. There is just too much to say, it would make this blog triple in length.
Eventually the day came when I had to part ways. However, by this point the two ladies who were sitting next to me on a bus had become two wonderful friends. It wasn't all sad either. I will get to spend two more weeks with them while they finish their trip in New York City in July. Side note- they are doing an 11 month trip of Asia, New Zealand, South America and New York City. Some bad ass girls. They headed up to Salta while I went back South to Buenos Aires to meet my family who would be arriving in 48 hours.
Now... my life traveling around has been great. Part of the whole experience is the grimy, dirty, shitty part. For quite a while I had been sharing a bed room with anywhere between 1 and 14 other people. At times some of those people (myself included) have smelled pretty terrible. I have shared bathrooms, showers, kitchens, computers, everything. The hostel life is a fantastic thing and something everyone should experience (this is possible in America as well!!!) at some point in life. However... I will never forget the feeling of getting off of yet another night bus, carrying my heavy bag from the bus station to the hotel my parents had booked in Buenos Aires and walking into that room for the first time. I had not really slept, I smelled, I was terribly exhausted, I was... well... me, the traveling me anyway. I had my head phones on as I went up in the elevator. LCD Soundsystem's All My Friends was playing loud into my ears. As I walked into the room there were probably tears of joy in my eyes. I dropped my bags (leaving the headphones in) and danced around the room, literally jumping from bed to bed and stripping off my dirty clothes. My good friends can probably picture this and it would not surprise them in the least. Although I'm sure it would have been a sight to see, it was a moment meant just for me.
I stopped dancing and caught my breath when the song ended. Before anything else, I put on shorts and the tee shirt that smelled the cleanest, well, the tee shirt that smelled the least dirty, and went downstairs to the buffet breakfast that was included with the room. Part of my saving money means eating less frequently and spending little money when I did eat. Walking into that restaurant I felt like a king. As the hostess was seating me, she offered a newspaper for me to read while I ate. Before I could even sit, my cup was filled with hot coffee and another one on the way with fresh OJ. I very well could have died on that bus and this was actually heaven. But I didn't! This was real life. Eggs to order, meat spread, a ridiculous amount of danishes, FRESH FRUIT, cooked veggies... honestly, my life was at an incredible high at this moment. At the end of the meal, all I had to do was scribble my name and the bill was settled. I finished 5 plates of food sitting there that morning and did not eat again for 13 hours. The rest of that day consisted of showering, sleeping, showering again (it was a really nice shower), walking around town, taking a bath in a clean tub with a bottle of wine and watching a little tv with something small to eat before once again sleeping. It sounds like a day of nothing, but it was so perfect.
My parents, brother and Ivy arrived the next day. Having them here felt like fiction at first. This was my strange life in these strange lands... having them here was wonderful, but took a second to adjust to. Not too long however, with more good food and a second night in a row with a comfy bed, I was already starting to get used to this new life. We ate GREAT every day. Not even good food, f*@#ing GREAT food. I had to consume 15 pounds of steak. We traveled around Buenos Aires and together discovered how large the city really is. We drank wine until late in the evening and shared hot subway rides during the day. The greatest part was just being together. It was different, knowing that when I woke up I would spend a day with my family. I had not experienced that in a long time. I think that week was the longest the 4 of us had been together since... I'm not even sure. It had been at least a year. It was wonderful. I spent a lot of time with my brother and Ivy. Makes me excited about the next stage of life, but we'll get to that soon.
So... the family left and once again I was on my own and on a night bus. This time when I woke I was in wine country. Over the years I have come to love wines from Mendoza Argentina. A few regions in Spain and California might put up a fight, but Mendoza just may produce my favorite wine in the world. Since getting here I have relaxed. I spent two days walking around town, reading and surprisingly, not drinking any wine. I had a good fill of vino with the family and I'm trying to battle a cough that just won't leave, but don't worry too much... Tomorrow I am renting a bicycle and riding around vineyards and getting a taste for the region. I plan on going to at least 3 wineries and an olive oil producer with possible stops at a beer factory or chocolate factory. See, I told you not to worry. I'm leaving at 8 in the morning and coming back around 8 at night, so I should get a pretty solid day of true wine country in.
Well... That brings you up to date. I'm sitting at a table in shorts, t-shirt and flip flops gulping own water by the liter (up to 8 so far today, this damn cough). I am gonna finish up The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, which I have really enjoyed and get to bed so that I'm all set for tomorrow's great wine adventure. I am guessing that tomorrow will be an early night after a day of wine and sunshine. That's not a bad thing tho. The 1st I get on a bus and head into Chile!
As I stated at the beginning of this, sorry for the huge gap between this blog and the last, but there will be more soon, so keep an eye out for more this week! Cheers.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Terrible Travel Day with Amazing Friends
So... This is a story about a bad day with two great people. It might be a little confusing, so I’ll explain now. The story starts at 1:48 am, goes back in time to tell of the day leading up to that point and then goes on to tell the story from 1:48 am to about 3:30 am. Think you can follow? I bet you can. Enjoy our misery:
It’s 1:48 am on a Saturday night. I have the curtain on the bus pulled back in an effort to scribble a few worlds each time we pass a street light. An old Ecuadorian woman from an oil town in the jungle is sitting next to me. Her old skin and dirty clothes are taking up part of my seat, but she is kindly turning her head the other way to cough.
It is dark on the bus, but I can make out faces of the people standing in the aisle each time the blue ceiling light turns on, letting more people on to the already overcrowded bus. About 14 rows back, my friends Mike and Elise sit apart from each other, but close enough to manage communication with one another.
We had been in close company the entire day before now. The first bus we were on was relatively empty. A six hour ride with the last 4 rows to ourselves allowing us to drink rum and laugh while the psychotic driver sped over the sharp curves of the mountain road. A movie played, then the sequel, then the trequel, if that is even a word. The star, a terrible Mexican Indiana Jones wanna be with a less than impressive singing voice, blared constantly in our ears from the speaker above the seats. We mocked the movie, spilling the coke bottle on our shirts whenever we hit a bump. Six hours of this fun and torture, and we had arrive at the first destination, Ambato.
Ambato was not a place we had wanted to visit. It served only a connection between Cuenca, where we started, and Tena, the ending point. We were dropped off not so much at a bus station, but more like an alley with a sign showing a picture of a bus. Instinctively, we walked towards more light and away from the dark alley they called a bus station, ignoring our bodies desire to find a bathroom. A Guayaquil bound bus approached and stopped in front of us. The driver opened the door telling us to get in and he would take us to the station that a Tena bound bus would be. Trusting the good in this man, we blindly followed the advise, only partially understanding the Spanish rambling.
Once again, we were dropped off somewhere we did not want to be, nor understand what we were to do next. We were standing, bags in hand, on a sidewalk of a big street with little signs of life. The street vendors were all finishing packing up for the day, as it was approaching 1 am. A few other people waited for various buses. To our relief, three were also waiting for a bus to Tena. Though they were not sure that we were in the right place or when a bus would come, having them in the same position as us made things a little better. The youngest, a boy around 9, was shivering in the cold and I gave him my coat. The oldest, a girl around 17, used her phone to play the same terrible songs impossible to escape in this country. We all waited in the cold. Just waiting, hoping desperately that this bus would arrive soon.
Each time a bus would drive by, we would gain a bit of hope, only to be let down returning to the reality of the cold, dark street. Finally, a bus came and stopped. It was going to Tena. Our excitement to get off the street was quickly squashed when we walked into the blue light of the bus, seeing a sea of people, hearing an already annoying mariachi radio station and smelling the stale fragrance of sweat, hot breath and exhaustion. The co-pilot gave us six seats, making others stand since they would only be on for half an hour and we had another 5 to go before arriving in Tena.
That is where I started writing this. However, since pulling back the shade to give myself a little light, Mike and Elise hating life 14 rows back, so much has happened. It has only been fifteen or twenty minutes, but life has somehow managed to seem even more like a living hell. The Mexican Indiana Jones blasting in our ears, abandoned on a cold city street in the middle of the night, hunger, need for a bathroom... all of that was the equivalent of heaven at this point.
A few minutes ago Mike and Elise moved towards the front of the bus when some people had gotten off. They were now a row ahead of me, but on the other side. Picture an airplane... I’m row 2, seat A (window) with the old Ecuadorian woman taking a good chunk of my street, they are row 1, seats C and D (aisle and window). I stopped writing for a second and looked up at Mikey. He was already looking at me, eyes wide. “Do you smell that?”, he mouthed. Until that point, I had been so engrossed in my writing that I had not noticed the piercing smell that could only be vomit.
In row 3, but Mike and Elise’s side of the bus, a little girl had thrown up an incredible amount of chunky liquid all over her father, the seat and the floor. Someone (not Mike, Elise or I, as we all seemed paralyzed) grabbed the attention of the co-pilot who came to the “rescue” with newspaper and knock off febreeze. There was no way to clean, so the man simply laid the newspaper over the vomit now sliding forward under the seats of row 2 and towards the unsuspecting shoes of Mike and Elise. Blending the fake febreeze and smell of the vomit was so nauseating in itself, I worried if I too may add to the smell.
The situation right now is so terrible, I can do nothing but laugh. A terible day of travel with two great friends, capped off by the smell of knock off febreeze attempting to cover up the smell of vomit coating the floor now seperating the seats between us. People shoes are slipping and screeching as they step in it while exiting the bus. What good is any other reaction besides laughing? I put Kid A on my headphones almost as loud as it will go, drowning out the mariachi music, and buried my nose into my shirt, trying to suck in as much of my own BO as possible. I looked at Mike again. “I’m going to kill you.” He didn’t just mouth it out that time, the words actually came from his lips. I couldn’t hear, but I’m sure of it. That’s love. I am planning out my wedding speech for them right now.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
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