it's not what it looks like

The other day I went to meet a friend for breakfast. As I was walking across the road I looked up and thought, What the heck, he looks like the Unabomber! As I approached he said, "How d'you like my costume - can you tell who I am?" I'd forgotten that it was Halloween. There were a few people dressed up in town, a lot who weren't, and then quite a few that I wasn't sure about. Around here sometimes it's hard to tell.

For my part I went dressed up as a mall-goer. Ok I didn't actually dress up, but I did go to the mall to pick up a few things after breakfast. The very idea of me being in a shopping mall lends itself to Halloweeny weirdness, no less because I was actually shopping for girl stuff. But the best costumes I saw were on a pair of fellas subtly dressed as mall photographers. They had a couple of cameras set up in front of a silly spooky background, with signs all around inviting people to have their pictures taken. But they weren't fooling anybody - at least not me. The one guy was big with white hair, a perfectly groomed white beard and a jolly round belly. His helper was kind of a little guy with red hair and a red beard. They may have put a lot of effort into their plain-clothes disguise, but it was pretty clear that I was looking at Santa and one of his elves. Nice try, guys.

Even the bus was dressed up. There was caution tape wrapped around the poles at the entrance like some kind of hazard scene, and the driver was handing everyone candy as they entered. From my seat I noticed a big foil eyeball balloon behind the driver that kept swiveling 'round and leering at everyone through the glass partition.

But anyway, Halloween's like sooooo four days ago. Today's the real doom-and-gloom event, Election Day. All these people walking around with "I Voted" stickers proudly stuck on their lapels, last-minute desperados waving signs for one party or the other outside of our shop all dang day long notwithstanding the sometimes pouring rain, or taking advantage of the last few days to sport those buttons and stickers with their favorite candidate's name: 'McPaaaaalin'.... 'O-baaaaaa-ma'. Is it too harsh to suggest sheep here? (I'm happy to be an Epsilon, the Alphas have such horrid uniforms.) I'm not sure how people can so vehemently support either one of the parties when they're practically the same and totally contrived. It's like they flip a coin to decide who will take which side on what issue with no rhyme or reason. There's no 'good' party or 'bad' party. They're all schmucks!

Seriously some things just don't make sense. Why do people either value adult life or unborn life? Isn't there anyone against war and abortion? Doesn't anyone want to save the babies and the whales? Why should we have to choose between one life and another? How about environmental policies? Why do the people who claim to believe in a Creator seem to think that they can do whatever they want to His creation, and yet those who insist that the world is a purposeless product of random chance also believe that we should protect it at all costs? If you were friends with a great artist who chose to put his masterpiece in your house, wouldn't you do everything in your power to preserve it? But if there was a fluke waterspot on your wall that just happened to look interesting, would you really hang onto it? Or why do the people who vocally tout brotherly love simultaneously rant that their hard-earned and supposedly well-deserved dollars shouldn't be spent on the 'undeserving' in our midst... yet those who claim that there's no such thing as right and wrong, those who become furious at the thought of anyone meddling in anyone else's life, also believe that we should have systems in place to help take care of those less fortunate? When did capitalism become the manifest destiny of the world? When did 'every man for himself' become one of the ten commandments, or when did 'an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth' get reinstated? And while I'm at it, why did this country's founders fight so hard to separate themselves from England, yet its citizens are now diabolically devoted to enforcing English as the only language? Everything is a contradiction - doesn't anyone stand for just-plain good or just-plain bad?!

And should I even get started on our very un-democratic two-party system? You know there's no hope of anyone coming into office that's not a member of one of the two at-heart virtually identical parties. How is this even a choice? 'You can choose Candidate A or Candidate B. Now go, vote, citizens!' Oh yeah, just don't pay attention to the thought that in the big election your vote doesn't actually count. Sure it may persuade some electorates to do what the masses want, and it rallies everyone's fervor for their country while they watch the farcically premature 'results' sweep across the nation, but it's not real!!!!!!!!!! The Electoral College doesn't vote till December, and (or so word has it) while the members are pledged to vote for certain candidates, there's no law that prevents them from changing their minds? Does this mean that we could go on believing for two months that we have such-and-such new president, only to find in January when the real results are released that it's actually his opponent??? The commentaries offer some assurance that it's very uncommon and unlikely that the government goes against the will of the people, as if this makes it ok. (It's only happened 3 times?) And if for some reason there's not a true majority vote for one candidate or another, no worries, the House will just decide for you! Yikes.

I'm not saying that it's a totally hopeless system or without its merits or reasons, just that if you're going to go touting yourself as the most free, most democratic, of-for-and-by-the-people land on this whole ball of dirt, God's gift to the human race because of your highly enlightened total superiority to everything that breathes, maybe it's time question the veracity of those claims.

And lest I sound like a total cynic, I do still believe there's hope for the local election. So long as the majority of people in your region agree with you, and the authorities don't overturn the decision after the people have spoken, you can still make a difference locally. Hey, you take what you can get.

Well I'm off to watch more election results. All the networks declared the winning governor based on a 4% margin and less than half of the votes counted. Is this a joke? In the meantime while mail-in ballots continue to make their way to wherever they get counted, we've been assigned a new president.

Happy election day. Oh wait, that's not till December.

Notes from the Pinat- Gallery

Oh my goodness, check out these quotable quotes from downwithpinatas.com. And to all the pinataphobes out there I apologize in advance for making fun of your plight. Wait I take that back, no apology, just thanks... for the laughs!

If you have children in collage, please speak with them about the dangers of sex and drug pinata parties.

We lost our beloved parrot, Polly, to pinata violence.

The average age of a perpetrator who engages in pinata related violence: 8.

You are 10 times more likely to be the victim of pinata related violence than a terrorist attack.

Of course it was a pull string pinata. Joke was on my family, but they liked the candy.

I understand the concept of schadenfreude, but is someone getting a bat to the genitals really all that funny? Watch for yourself. I'm sure you'll laugh, but in the back of your mind, remember that you are witnessing real pain.

This bit of news caught my eye. And gladdened my heart. Major Hollywood studios are finally cracking down on the illegal use of their intellectual property in the creation of unlicensed pinatas!

I was informed today that the proper name for a store that primarily sells pinatas is a "pinataria." Now I'll be sure to describe it correctly when asking others to join me in picketing a pinataria.

I wanted to take a moment to reinforce that I have nothing against Mexicans, my uncle is married to one and I have half Mexican cousins. I just don't like their violent sports and festivities like pinata bashing.

Every time someone sends me a link like this one I know in my soul that I'm doing God's work by spreading the word about the dangers of pinata related violence.

Contradictions of Fall

Today is the kind of day that heals the soul. The first day of Fall, in all its bright optimism, a crisp cool sky with sun shining abundantly through the forgiving clouds. The chill in the air is inconsequential compared to the freshness it carries. It's the kind of day that makes you remember what it's like to breathe deeply.

Today is also the first day that I went to work in the dark, which makes it the first of a long season of coming and going by night like some secretive cave dweller. The rain was minimal enough, if not for its clearly being the forerunner to many dark wet mornings. Hoping the bus will see me instead of speeding past down the hill. Hoping it comes soon enough that myself and my belongings don't get totally soaked. Waiting for the bus often feels like the longest part of the commute, whether or not it comes anywhere close to actual travel time.

Yesterday the PSE bill came with an insert about where our energy is coming from. They seemed very pleased to announce that they are "working" to secure 10% of their power supply from renewable sources by 2013 and 15% by 2020. I guess that means that in another 12 years they'll still be getting 85% of their energy from non-renewable resources much like today's line-up: Hydro 42%, Natural Gas 19%, Nuclear 1%, Other 1%, Coal 37%. Coal, seriously. At least with the plunging economy we've got potential for a Dickens-esque backdrop to add a little romance to the hard times.

I've got an African/Latin/Jazz mix going on the shop stereo - Hugh Masakela's work of art Stimela, Brubeck's classic Take Five... and so very much work to do.

six things

now that it's all over and nobody's reading anymore, a list for my own benefit of good things about seattle: i can think of six.

family

    friends

         water

              trees

                   live music

                        kexp

right now the kexp dj is playing a 3-hour set entirely made up of songs that are 2 minutes and under.

I think I have a travel hangover.

It's been a busy couple of weeks, jumping straight into working at Scotty's kick-ass new shop. Time has been flying by, but the distraction is more than welcome; the few times that I've had a minute to think about my own life and what the heck I'm supposed to do now, it gets a little depressing. The trough after the big wave. After over a year of every day being the realization of some goal, going back to the suspended animation of the great Washington holding tank is more than a little anti-climactic. Fortunately I've got someone else's life to focus on for a while so I don't have to think about mine. I know it's total impatience to want to know the next step right now (I was ancy within a day of being back) but that's the nature of a goal-oriented mind I suppose.

I miss my backpack. It's been leaning up against the futon looking all sad and empty. No symbolism there I promise. Last week I pulled a few clothes out of storage, you know, blue jeans, the normal stuff that doesn't go on the road. Looking into the little unit at all of my stuff, I realized that I didn't miss any of it. Most of it is still sitting there and probably will be for months. Even the excitement of a change of clothes wore off in about 2 days and I found myself thinking, 'What am I going to do with all this stuff?!' Maybe it's just me, but it seems so much easier to find something to wear when you've only got 2 or 3 things to pick from. I miss the simplicity of everything having its place in the pack, being totally sufficient with so little stuff, even getting stronger arms from packing and unpacking and packing and unpacking and carrying everything everywhere I went. Oh well. I picked up a section of my old running route and feel way better on it after being away for a year, so that's an encouragement.

As for all the plans, ideas and lofty optimistic thoughts I had on the way back? Abandoned like a paper ship. A different perspective has made me totally un-optimistic and un-motivated and all those seemingly great ideas don't seem so great at the moment. This could have a lot to do with the weather too though. The sun is out today, thank God, 'cuz it's been really cold lately. (Everyone else says it's nice, but I don't believe it!) I think this is the 3rd nice day in 2 weeks. That's 3 blessings to count!

Some time by the lake this morning listening to music and soaking in some morning sun did a lot of good, and today I'm actually able to focus on some work [aside from being distracted by writing this page]. I want to stay here through the summer and help my bro, after which I have no idea what will happen. Maybe try to get tour guide job? Maybe go back to South America and work on a farm? Or who knows, maybe I'll decide to be a city person after all, don some sensible high-heels and a skirt suit, and devote the rest of my life to a fluorescent-lit office. Ha.

The mothership has landed.

In some ways yesterday felt like my longest transit day. As expected it was really hard to pull myself away from the southerly Americas. The anticipation of finishing the trip - a daunting prospect like pulling off a bandaid (made of duct tape or superglue perhaps) that you just want to get over with - and comparatively not much to look at out the tiny plane windows, plus knowing that family was at the other end as anxious to see me as I was to see them, made the day seem to last forever. Houston was an interesting place to splash down, providing instantaneous American shock value. Seven-dollar sandwiches, high-end shops with all you never needed, vending machines with iPods no less! Not to mention the hunting and fishing shop with big dead animals in the window and classic t-shirt slogans like My grandma can outhunt you and My dog gives me the bird. Then there was the shop with all the Don't mess with Texas paraphernalia you could possibly want. Why is Texas so afraid of being messed with anyway, were they pushed around as a kid or something?

Travelling north fortunately meant that there fortunately wasn't much jetlag to deal with, and having plenty of distractions (like my mom & brother's smiling faces waiting at the airport) has eased the re-entry process... so far anyway. The thing it's been hardest to get used to is flushing my toilet paper again, I keep looking for a plastic bin off to the side or thinking I'm going to screw up the pipes when I flush. Fancy-pantsy Yankee plumbing.

Don't tell the boss, I'm on the company computer right now.  :-)  Looks like there will be plenty of work cut out for a needy traveller at Scotty's shop. Still have to find a way to get a paycheck, this being a baby business that needs all the goodwill nurturing it can get - a beautiful baby by the way! - but I'm looking forward to sinking my teeth into it starting tomorrow, and hopefully something else will come to fruit on the work front that won't take too much time away from the shop.

Well I could walk down the street and describe the sights of Kirkland but I'm sure half of you are well acquainted already, so I suppose the travel portion of this page is at a pause for now. Life, what an adventure. Thanks again for reading, & don't forget to check back for details on the slide show!

Over 'n' out.

You should see this...

Right now there's an ad in the sidebar of my email for 'High quality fashionable Possum knitwear'. D'ya think it's actually knit from possums?

 

I wasn't in such a hurry to get out of Cuenca and ended up enjoying my morning for way longer than I expected to, hence catching a 2pm bus which meant a midnight arrival. The bus ride from Cuenca to Quito confirmed my suspicion that Ecuador has some strange obsession with trash cans made to look like clowns, their gigantic heads sporting gaping mouths where the garbage goes. Interesting. I was glad to get out on the road while there were at least a few hours of daylight left, because the views were amazing. Once again as soon as we were out of the center of town the landscape turned to verdant mountainous agrarian paradise. I dozed off occasionally despite my effort to keep the eyes peeled, watching furry pigs with dirty noses, people working and kids and dogs, and impossibly cultivated mountainsides go by out the window. People here have the coolest hats, like they robbed the 40's of their style except that underneath are long black braids, colorful sweaters or shawls and skirts for the women, and jackets or ponchos with slacks for the men. A picture-perfect place becomes even moreso with local people in the frame. Sometime after sunset I awoke to find one last patch of rose in the western sky; instead of fading to orange or blue it faded straight to black, really a sight with the crescent moon hanging just in the corner.

 

Perhaps it's because I've been at it so long, or perhaps South America is just such an easy place to travel, but it occurred to me as I was rolling into a strange town at midnight last night with no cash, no reservations and no idea of where I was going that I might be getting a little too comfortable with this travel business. (Or is that a good thing?) I found a taxi to take me to an ATM and a decent place to stay, a little ways from where I really wanted to be but the people are really nice.

 

I had some grandiose ideas of what I might find in the morning based on what I saw in the guidebook and heard from other people. But when I walked out this morning and took my first glimpses of Quito, I got the feeling I could be wandering around all day and not find anything worth seeing; it just looked like a gigantic uninteresting city. I started zig-zagging toward what I thought might lead to the historical area till some spires of a church appeared in the distance. Following this I came to a big hill which gave sweeping views over the valley, but still didn't reveal what I was looking for. The church disappeared till I rounded a corner, following once again till I was at the entrance of its spectacular grounds. After snapping a few photos through the gate I noticed a street dropping down to the right, full of color and promise, and was immediately drawn to it. This is where the Wow was hiding! Even the cars, yellow taxis and blue buses added character to the street. Bright pastel buildings with white or contrasting trim appeared to me like fancy frosted cakes. In fact I passed a cake shop afterward and it was true, they were almost identical!

 

Winding and weaving down whichever street looked the most interesting, I realized this place is so full of spectacular views and interesting architecture - this just from the outside, and I know the churches at least have some disgustingly ornate interiors - that it would take ages to see it all. And I only have a day. This would actually be a great place to take a tour (note for the next time) because there's just so much to discover.

 

Well seeing as it's my last day and I'll hopefully seeing a lot of you soon, I thought I'd include some closing thoughts now in case you stop reading. I'm not great at preparing for things - or rather perhaps I am great at putting off dealing with the inevitable until it actually has to be dealt with - but I have in the back of my mind that really soon I'm in for some big changes. I'll be back in a familiar place, for weeks or even months no less, and possibly falling into some semblance of a routine (only inasmuch as can't be avoided). I've got some good stuff to look forward to, but precedent shows that coming back from trips, especially big ones, is kind of traumatic. I've never been good at 'ordinary' life, and reassimilating can be challenging (as some of you already know!). So apologies if I act a little weird, and thanks in advance to anyone who can give a little moral support as I try to re-integrate into some kind of daily life. Oh my goodness I can't believe I just said that! Daily life. Don't worry if I wander around for a while with my head in the clouds like a stoner, it's just re-entry shock.

 

On the last long trip I made a list of things I missed while I was travelling so I'd have something to be grateful for when I got back. This time the list is a lot shorter: hot showers that actually work, vehicle emission controls, blue jeans. Actually any pants that fit will be nice, mine are so stretched out from all the hand washing and drip drying. But the number one thing, of course, is my dear, dear loved ones!!!! You are the one and only reason I ever so much as consider spending any time in the USA, let alone sometimes living there.

 

So since we're venturing to look ahead, what's next?? This trip was a huge piece of unfinished business that kept me from investing in other aspects of life for almost a decade. Now with a big goal accomplished I'm hoping to have the patience to stick it out for a while (though it's sounding very unrealistic at the moment!). I promised my bro I'd spend a couple of months helping out in the shop, which I'm reeeeeally looking forward to. But then there's a dream to follow. I haven't played music in a good 12 years, and any day that I'm actually paying attention I feel it in a big way. So the next goal is to start playing again, find some classes, learn some good theory, do it the right way, and see what happens... There, I put it in writing so there's no chickening out!  :-)  Of course first it means finding a place I actually want to live for a while, and finding a decent job so I can pay for it. Unless something else comes up. Heh heh.

 

Of course this doesn't mean an end to the wanderlust. If there's one thing that travelling for over a year around the globe has shown me, it's that travel is in my blood, rooted in my soul. A writer once commented that she was in the same position with regards to travel as a leopard was to its spots. I second the motion! There are still a lot of empty pages in my passport which need to be filled before it expires in three years, and now more than ever, there are far more places on the must-see list than on the have-seen list. It's a small but big world, frustrating that there's not enough time in life to see and do everything, but then again thank God there's enough stuff to see and do that we don't run out!!

 

As I said I'll probably keep writing here for a while longer, get some post-trip thoughts down and then who knows what next. I'm also planning to put together a slide show so those of you in the North-wet can see some pics if you want. S said I can use the shop; I'll put a notice here when we pick the date, stay tuned! Speaking of which, millions of thanks to Scotty for setting up this page for me!!!! This journal wouldn't have existed without your expertise (and doing all the legwork), and all this stuff would have been stuck inside my head! So thanks!! And I forgive you for putting up pictures of me instead of the ones I gave you of cool scenery and flowers. And thanks a bunch to everyone who's stayed in touch along the way!! Sometimes it even felt like you were along for the ride.

 

Well tomorrow morning I have to get up at the crack of dog to catch my flight to Seattle via Houston. I can't believe it's my last day already. Wow. Better get back out there and enjoy it while it lasts!

Ooeeooeeooooo, waaa waaa waaa...

[That was western theme music in case you didn't get it.]

 

If I was amazed to meet two girls that I actually wanted to hang out with, this week must be a record breaker. Shortly after my last post (actually while we were still in the internet place) we met a gal from Seattle who was on her way to do some volunteer farm work, and instantly glommed onto her. Everyone got along great, and whether doing little errands, sipping coffees, taking in spectacular scenery, sloshing through calf-deep mud and creeks, or just sitting around watching the days go by like people crossing the square, these three were enjoyable company the whole time.

 

On the first day we went to check out a book exchange / cafe, which was more of a lending library as the hippified guy running it (a transplant from Las Vegas) wanted desperately to hang onto all of his books. Most of them weren't even for sale, you had to leave a deposit and trade in something that he wanted in exchange. Not convenient when in need of a read and leaving town, but I kind of liked the idea. We asked if he had coffee (being a partial cafe & all) and he said, 'Why not, I feel like a coffee too,' brewed some up and sat down to with us for what turned into a couple of hours. It was fun to get some of the local down-low; apparently there are about 200 expats from the USA etc living around Vilcabamba. In fact the next day in the square, about 8 of them showed up at the corner coffee place - I had the feeling it was a daily routine - including some characters that the bookshop guy had mentioned previously. A motley crew to be sure, but at least they were gravitating toward the good life.

 

That first night after whiling away the whole day in town, making our way up the hill to the hostel, there was no moon and at times it was so dark that it was impossible to see anything more than a foot or two away. Except for the millions and millions (mullllions and mullllions) of stars, and those little star-like creatures gleaming in the bushes and skipping along the road: fireflies!! It was magic up above and all around.

 

Ok these days are getting a little jumbled, but the other picture I really want to remember of Vilcabamba is sitting at that corner coffee place in the silence of long afternoon sunlight, the decorative pastel church across the way glowing at the top where the shade had yet to reach, watching folks come and go - oh yeah, while enjoying an exceptionally tasty piece of fresh banana cake (jam in the middle, coffee icing on top, mmmmm). It was a perfect afternoon that got more perfect when suddenly the speaker above our heads came to life with some fitting blues, then jazz, setting an even better tone to already great ambience.

 

I also want to remember those Sunday drivers, the guys in neatly pressed collared shirts riding the pranciest horses on earth down the brick streets in the middle of town. The horses were decked out in leather accessories studded with silver decorations. They always came alone, I don't know if it was a weekend thing or if they were meeting somewhere down the road, but I kind of expected to see some kind of gilded tumbleweed go by each time one passed.

 

The last morning at breakfast, a guy came up the street yelling, Pescado, pescado, the one-man fish market. Then a bit later a little truck came humming along with a sign on top advertising milk for sale. Se vende leche de chivas. Just as I was deciding that chivas probably means goats, the truck passed revealing a half-dozen goat heads peeking out the side. I wondered if they were selling it straight off the goat. Sometimes it's the daily stuff of small towns that's the most memorable.

 

After a couple of days of unexpected fun, it was finally time to leave for Cuenca. I was amazed by the scenery from the bus window: 5 or 6 hours of greener-than-green rural mountains and valleys, covered in shrubs, forests and farms, each as green and gorgeous as the one before. I'm totally in love with this country already. Have to check out the coast one day, who knows, I hear it's pretty easy to eek out a life down here.... ;-)

 

Cuenca is truly a beautiful little town. Actually bigger than I was expecting, and parts of it a bit more poshy, but nice nonetheless. The main square is the perfect centerpiece for the city, and the old churches and buildings are absolutely beautiful. Today I fortuitously stumbled upon a museum and decided to check it out, finding inside the most well laid out and interesting ethnographic exhibit of all the peoples/regions in Ecuador. My mind was a little blown when I went down to the bottom floor and peeked through the glass doors of the ethnographic reserve - all the extra stuff that wasn't in the exhibit - rows and rows full of pottery, beads, all kinds of artefacts, probably fifty times what was actually displayed upstairs. Wow. Outside was an Inca ruin which turned out to be pretty extensive, with a big garden at the bottom including medicinal plants and a sample Andean forest (I think actually modeled after what the original grounds might have been like), plus a few birds in houses that were way to small for creatures that should be soaring a mile above them... but anyway the place on the whole was really impressive. And one of the parrots kept saying things in spanish and then cracking up.

 

Tomorrow I've got a 12-hour bus ride to Quito, the last long bus of the trip. Think I'm going to catch a morning one, even though opting against a night bus means paying an extra night's accommodation and spending all that precious daylight on the bus. After the last ride I really want to see what the landscape looks like between here and there.

 

Then a day in Quito, then a couple of flights, then some welcome familiar faces and lots of catching up to do...

Ecuador: The Final Frontier

Or is that Space?

At any rate, barring any happenings of the unexpected kind, I've just crossed over the last border of the trip before hitting Yankee shores. It was a dreamy last day in Huanchaco, with a little beach time before heading to the bus station. As it turned out the bus was scheduled earlier than the time I'd found online, but I was there just in time... and then the bus was about an hour late so I got to wait around anyway. The plan was to breeze right through Piura with just a quick connection, over the border and straight to Loja, Ecuador. I was good and did my research and everything - but unfortunately the info I'd found was either outdated or just plain incorrect.

When I arrived in Piura a little before 10pm I was glad at the prospect of leaving straight away. Towns like that aren't the most charming at night in the first place, even if there were still more tuk-tuks on the streets than hookers (of which there were plenty). My hopes for all the buses being conveniently located in one terminal were disappointed as soon as we pulled in; though they were on the same street, it took some looking around to find the right one. I asked at my arrival station where to go for Loja, and the lady directed me to a company across the way. I walked down the dark little street and through the entrance - a big garage door - and inquired, but the guy said they didn't serve Loja. I set out in search of the right office but couldn't find it at first, so I asked a few people who were not much help. One guy in a guest house said it's 'that way' and 'close' but wouldn't say how close or exactly where. Back on the street I went in hopes of finding this bus before it was supposed to leave, but after walking around a bit and not wanting to wander back and forth too much with my pack, obviously a clueless tourist, I finally hailed a tuk-tuk to take me there. He either misunderstood or had his own idea, as he drove me to the office that I first went to, and then upped the fare to take me to the correct one when they again assured that they didn't have the right bus. When we finally got to the right station, I think around 10:20, I asked about the 10:30 bus which I found online but there was none. The last bus had left at 9:30.

I was now looking at a night in Piura. The guy at the terminal offered to help me with a room, so I bade adieu to Mr Tuk-tuk and followed him into the station. As it turned out the room was in the station, two dingey little beds with an attached bathroom, a big dead roach under the sink and a few more scurrying past. It was cheap and I almost took it despite its dreary and disgusting appearance, till I realized that I would be sleeping behind a gigantic locked gate (this was the garage where the buses go) at the mercy of a lone stranger that I knew nothing about with no way to get off the premises on my own. So I said thanks and went back out onto the street to the nearest guesthouse. It was the one where I got the useless directions - and it was apparently full. I tried another one which was more than I wanted to spend, but as I was once again walking down the street a police guy started asking me questions and told me to be very careful. I thought this was a good sign to cut my losses and just take what I could get, so I went back to the last place. The kid at the desk was really sweet, which slightly eased my frustration at being stuck here for the night. Plus I had a TV (with a remote control to boot) so I was quickly able to numb the night into sleepy oblivion. In the morning there was more life to town, shops open, hordes of tuk-tuks in primary colors on every street and driveway. I bought my ticket and soon was on my way to Ecuador...

Seeing some of the landscape in the daytime made the night in Piura worthwhile. As we got closer to the border, urban middle-of-nowhere turned to rural middle-of-nowhere with beautiful farms, then we crossed what looked like an endless lumpy plain studded with bushes, which in one instant turned to solid green as far as the eye could see. Myriad foliage, flowers, citrus fruits, good smells coming in the bus window. The Peru/Ecuador border is located on a river; you check out of Peru, then walk across a bridge over the river and check into Ecuador. It's superbly scenic.

Soon after our crossing the bus began to make its way up into the mountains. Mountains teeming with dense live greenery. I had one of those moments where I realized I was just entering a brand new place, an absolute jewel, an entire beautiful country to explore... for which I only have one week. The bus broke down a couple of times along the way, but they were quick to fix it, and we arrived into Loja just a while after a spectacular sunset: bright green hillsides founded on pumpkin-orange soil, misty clouds lit up bright pink all the way down to their toes that were dangling on the mountaintops.

Along the way I had met two girls, one from Germany (P) and the other from Australia (S). P kept mentioning that they were going to this really nice town called Vilcabamba and that she had this great hostel picked out, and - not to say what I should do - but I was welcome to change my plans and come along. For the last few days I'd been thinking about a change of plans just to keep things interesting, and my only real reason for stopping in Loja was to make it to the local Provincial Park, which I now didn't know if I'd have time for due to the extra beach day and extra bus day. So when we arrived at Loja I agreed to follow the girls to Vilacabamba. P & S were actually just planning to split a taxi and go their separate ways, but S was tempted by the hostel as well... and on learning that it was her birthday the next day we decided that we'd all go together.

I'm not usually fussed over accommodation but I have to mention this one. They didn't have space in the dorm so we got a private room with attached bathroom, possibly the best bathroom in any hostel. The walls are made of big stones, and even the shower (with a big rainshower head) is built into a stone alcove. If I ever end up building that dream house, I'm stealing this bathroom design. And building a patio with hammocks. I hadn't been in a hammock since I was a little kid until this morning after a nice buffet breakfast, when we went out back to check out the digs and swing a little in the breeze, watching butterflies flutter between the millions of leaves of trees. The valley views from the outdoor dining area are gorgeous, looking over the town itself, and there are flowers galore in the entry. I've already been convinced to cut another day out of the rest of the itinerary to hang here with the girls.

A little while ago we rolled down into town on cruisers borrowed from the hostel, complete with big handlebars and dodgey brakes. And now here I am, catching up on a couple of things, in a beautiful little valley town where apparently people live to be older than anywhere else in the world. We've already seen quite a few ancients wandering around, and no wonder, what a place to spend your days!

Mayday, Mayday!!!

Is it true? I was updating my calendar today, and it seems to indicate that it's May already. Yikes!!! Didn't think I'd get to that page for a long time.

 

I'm just sitting down to work out the schedule from here across the border to Loja, Ecuador, leaving tomorrow afternoon. In a few short days Peru has made its way to the top of the must-see-again list. I recently mentioned to a friend, who agreed with my theory, that Peru may just have everything in the whole wide world: gigantic mountains and beautiful beaches, endless lifeless deserts and dense jungles, plants and animals galore, culture and indigenous people with their crafts and music, enough development to be fairly comfortable but enough un-development to lend a touch of reality. Not to mention it's full of latinos. (A big plus in my opinion anyway!) Like any other place I'm sure it has its fair share of problems - for instance I met a lady recently who told me that most of her family was killed by terrorists a while back, that she has 6 kids and her husband took off, and that it's normal for girls to get knocked up at 14 or 15 years old - so yeah, there are a few problems... but it's also got the lion's share of treasures.

 

Today I was walking down Ave Libertador or some street when an old lady named Dora randomly stopped me to talk. She lives in Lima but is fixing up a house here, and told me that the place will be much better soon and I should definitely come back to visit. At first I thought she meant she was going to rent out rooms, but as I was leaving she said, "When are you coming back? You have to come for lunch or dinner or coffee." She also asked if I was 23, which made me want to be her best friend, heh heh. But even amid days and weeks and months of travel to various corners of the world, it's still a rare treat to meet someone who's being nice just to be nice, not asking for money or business or anything else, and totally out of the blue!

 

Guess that's all for now, I've got a little more business to take care of and there's a beach out there calling my name...

That's it, I'm moving back to the beach!

I don't know where or when, but it's got to happen. It just feels right. (Wasn't that a Mazda ad or something?) After 2 nights on buses I arrived at my semi-destination of Trujillo, the real draw being the beach town of Huanchaco a bit to the north. When I arrived at Trujillo around 7am and peeked out the bus window,  I decided instead of stopping there it would be best to catch the first taxi and blaze right through to Huanchaco. And good thing, this place is awesome! Little beach town, tiny garages functioning as restaurants where the lady watches TV while waiting for customers, asks what you want providing suggestions but no menu and makes it on the spot. Went to one of those last night and was really tempted to ask if she wanted help with anything, because it felt more like being in her place than in a restaurant. The fish was great too.

 

This is no tropical paradise, I think it's even better. A real beach, with chilly afternoon breezes that lift the surf into long rolling waves, an endless curving coastline that disappears in the misty salt air, deeply warming noontime sun that makes it impossible not to relax, fishermen dotted along the beach with hand lines... Nothing to do but walk on the beach, lie on the beach, watch people surfing, run on the beach, sit on the beach, watch the sunset... Ahh, it's been a lonnng time - in fact years!!

 

I've been in quick-stop mode lately and trying to leave some extra days at the end of the trip in case anything interesting comes up, but this place was too good rush through, so I'm taking my time - even stealing a day or two from Ecuador just to hang here and enjoy it. I thought at first I might get bored being in one place with really nothing to do, but it's great!! I'm shelling out the big bucks - like 9 bucks a night - for a nice room with a balcony, big bed, private bathroom and TV, so I've been enjoying it to the max, sleeping in and watching really bad TV. Really bad - I've seen Gray's Anatomy twice already! The first time had subtitles so it was a little educational (subtitled TV, how half the world learns languages) but the second one was just dubbed over in Spanish. This was actually better because I missed all the stupid nuances in the stupid dialogue and didn't have to hear the stupid actors' stupid voices. [There's a reason I gave up my TV years ago, I turn to bad shows like passing a car accident - it's impossible not to stop and watch even though it makes the stomach turn.] I just wish here that they had little windows at the bottom of the screen with the Spanish speakers' faces in them, would be highly entertaining to see who was behind all those smoky and sultry hispanic voices.

 

Today I woke up late, went for a run on the sand, did some laundry, had ceviche and Inca Kola for lunch (ceviche was surprisingly great considering I've been happily avoiding fish for a few months; Inca Kola filled my year's quota - 2nd soft drink this month, yuck - but I had to try since it seems to be the national drink) then wandered back to the beach to daydream in the afternoon fog.

 

After spending piles of days on buses with relatively short stops between, losing track of days and hence sleep and meals from being in transit, and starting to feel generally kind of lousy a lot of the time, it took only 2 days by the beach to feel healthy, happy and great!! I think it's the fresh salt air. Being here brings back lots of living-at-the-beach memories too, I keep expecting to see familiar faces walking by. But perhaps the local experience will have to wait for the next beach town, one where I have a chance to stay a while and make it my own. Indeed the road will have me back in just a couple of days!

Inca Roads / Angels in the Architecture

Why not give this entry two names, I couldn't decide on one and the place warrants it anyway. My day at Machu Picchu started a couple of hours later than anticipated due to this inclination of hitting the snooze button, but it turned out to be a good thing as I needed the extra energy at the end of the day. If anyone goes to MP, don't listen to the people who say it's soooo lonnnnng to walk to the ruins from town and it's allll stepppps. It does take a little time and it is all steps once you start uphill, but who could even notice the walk when there are lush fresh-smelling plants on all sides, colorful flowers to photograph and birds serenading the journey? I thought I might run out of camera battery before arriving at the ruins because I was snapping so many flower shots, but fortunately it lasted.

 

When I arrived at the top I had the same sort of moment that I had with my first glimpse of the Grand Canyon. 'Hmm.' Sometimes things take a while to hit home, especially when you know of a wonder for your whole life and now rather than leaping out from the pages of a picture book it stands before you in plain silent reality. I thought I'd stick around for a couple of hours and call it good, but ended up closing the place down. There were so many vantage points, plus little trails to explore out from the edges, one taking me a good way up Mt Machupicchu for some amazing vistas and dozens more flower photos before I realized the sun was heading down and I should too. I practically had to run to the last viewpoint to get there and back in time; a guide along the way had warned me that the last bus was leaving soon, and I was yet undecided if I'd have enough time to walk down to town before dark or if I should take the bus (wouldn't have cared had I brought a light, but the cheesy little $5 headlamp that replaced my Spot got lost somewhere between here and Cuzco). With dusk setting in and 20 minutes to the bus I turned for a last view of the main complex, and snapped the last photo of the day; indeed when I tried to take just one more, the camera battery died. Perfect timing. After a whole day of walking up and down and all around, it seemed anti-climactic to jump on the bus and miss all the evening sounds and scents along the forested path, so I checked my watch and the remaining sunlight and made a dash for it. What took an hour and 10 mins going up, albeit very leisurly and with lots of photo stops, took 35 minutes going down, and it was just getting too dark to see by the time I reached the road at the bottom. There were huge black butterflies that came out in the evening, substantial enough that their fluttering wings amid the foliage were sometimes audible, and of course that great sensation of an evening in the forest after a long sunny day.

 

The next day the train wasn't until after 5pm, so I headed for the botanic garden. As it turned out you could only enter with a ticket to the adjacent museum, which I wasn't too interested in, but with hours to kill and nothing to lose but a few bucks I bought the ticket. This turned out to be a great move - again if you go to MP, go to the museum! It sounds like it only re-opened in '95 after a long closure, and a lot of the artefacts on exhibit were only found in the last 10 years (many in 2005) so this turned out to be a great time to go. Not only did they have all the usual interesting stuff made of stone, metal and pottery, but they had explanations of the Incas' organization and how Machu Picchu was built. I always thought terraces were carved out of mountains, but it turns out they actually built them upwards from the mountainside, bringing many of the materials somehow with them. There were quotes from some elders in the area who said that the Incas were very powerful, and whipped the stones to make them walk up the mountain. Most also mentioned that the Incas' time was over, and something about their judgement, sounding relieved that they wouldn't come back - it sounded like even the modern people had some underlying fear of the old powers, which was interesting. There were also displays of big flat mortars which apparently they used to fill with water to use as mirrors for observing the stars. Fascinating stuff.

 

The botanic garden was more like a jungle than a garden, which was cool. Oh I was wrong about the hundreds of plant species in the area; hundreds are the species of butterflies (more nocturnal than diurnal surprisingly), and if I added the list correctly, the plant species come to about 8,000!!

 

It was easy to while away the day, including a stop to a local veg restaurant for some healthy eats, hard to come by these days. I haven't really sampled the local cuisine, but as it seems heavy on guinea pigs and alpacas it's not high on the to-do list. Ooh, did I mention that I saw a little monkey! I was sitting by the river waiting for the train and chatting with two long-haired wandering traditional musicians that I'd met earlier (I always find the wayward artist types, is it gravity?) when one of them said, 'Monkey!' and pointed to a nearby tree (kind of funny that he said that in english). I had no idea there were monkeys there.

 

Let's see, back on the train to Cuzco watching the last bits of day depart from the valley as we went... a surprising amount of lights when we arrived in town... The next day I bought my ticket to continue up north and spent a few more hours admiring the main plaza. I realized that the plaza is the perfect proportion for taking photos, whether on a restaurant balcony or down on the sidewalk, with steps and curbs and the whole thing on a tilt, big enough that you can get sweeping views but small enough that you can zoom in close. I would say this square easily rivals the Grand Place in Brussels, except instead of being packed with ornate buildings, there are spaces between to give the mountains an equal voice. Not just man's architecture, but a meeting place of man's and God's buildings, blending into one perfect scene.

 

I'm at yet another bus station now, in Lima, waiting for a connection to Trujillo and Huanchaco up on the coast. Twenty hours from Cuzco to Lima, 8 hours waiting (with not much to see in this area) and 8 more hours of bus. It's kind of taking its toll having so many long bus trips in such a short time, I'm feeling it all over, but hopefully this is the last biggie of the trip. I did take a walk down a strip of park on the way to a chinese restaurant - something bizarrely abundant in this country - the park containing statues with big etched glass panes containing quotes and picturse. One that I ventured to read I thought said something about death and suicide. Another seemed to say something about butterflies being cubists in the world of green. A good indication my still-limited spanish comprehension, but hey maybe it's more interesting that way. They could have been perfectly normal quotes, but I'll never know.

It was love at first sight

I have no idea what I wrote the other day, I was so rushed just trying to get it out before catching the bus and moving on to new impressions. I have to keep lists of notes so I don't forget anything important between posts, because every day is memorable in some way. And thanks to you - those of you who have admitted to reading my journal, & those red dots on the map that keep growing - after more than a year of writing I have a constant voice in my head narrating almost every single thing that happens (yeah thanks a lot), sometimes over and over again till I know how I want it to sound. Lucky for you you only get one version, not the other thousand that I get! But sometimes I still forget stuff. I forgot to mention the dog in San Pedro who came up and kept trying to give me hugs, arms outstretched & all (a shepherd mix no less), which I resisted at first because she was a stray and fairly filthy... but I finally gave in and moved my stuff to the other side of the bench where I was sitting, and she immediately got up onto the bench next to me, buried her head in my lap and took a nap. I don't think it's an interesting travel story, but puppy hugs are worth remembering in my opinion. I also forgot to mention, for the sake only of Arlo as this will make sense to nobody else, that somehow when I got out into the middle-of-nowhere desert this song came out of the blue... pchkwa, pchkwa, fptky... Haven't thought of that in a long time, but it's still in there somewhere! (BTW, miss you guys!) Last but not least I forgot to mention how after a long desert day the fading evening sun first turned the hillsides tangerine orange, then as the shadows grew the distant triangular volcanoes took on a bright pink glow. Perhaps they were blushing at being mooned by that full & bright being leaning over them to the right.

 

On to the present... Ha, present indeed. I won't get all over-dramatic and say that my first views of Cuzco nearly brought tears to my eyes (even though they nearly did) or that as I walked around town I was literally gasping as I turned new corners (even though I was). I heard that Cuzco was a beautiful city, but that's the understatement of the century. It's absolutely friggin spectacular! It's the kind of place that makes me excited to be travelling, despite arriving after 30 hours on 3 buses and very little sleep, despite the shooting pains in my knees as I stepped down out of the final bus after sitting for so long. Fantastic old architecture, crisp green mountains on every side draped with red-roofed houses, which I assume must be gigantic as the town itself is supposed to be at about 3500 meters elevation. On one of my buses they mistakenly played the director's notes over a movie instead of english subtitles - it was actually more interesting than I thought the normal movie would have been - but they said at one point that to show a neighboring house outside of a fake kitchen window, instead of using a gigantic photo or something they painted a fake scene using wide brush strokes that didn't make any sense up close but showed up perfectly clear from the distance of the camera. I was wondering if Cuzco's surrounds were painted with wide brush strokes too. Even in the mist of morning things that are obviously distant seem touchably close.

 

After one day of wandering around like a zombie probably with my jaw dropped open, I spent a second day getting my train ticket to Machu Picchu and then unintentionally wandering for hours upon hours through market stalls looking at crafts and produce, stopping into a bakery for some bread (what a wonderful life!). Peruvians really take the cake when it comes to craftsmanship. I stopped into this center for traditional textiles where they had all kinds of local weaving and a little exhibit to explain it, and my goodness it was absolutely amazing.

 

This morning I got on the backpacker train (funny they actually call it that, but good for me since they charge less than the fancier tourist classes) for Aguas Calientes. My guidebook says it's the ugliest little town in Peru. I don't know about ugly, and from what I've seen of the country so far it may be the contrast that stands out most, but for sure it is a tourist ghetto. At first I thought the name Aguas Calientes referred to the nearby hotsprings, but now I suspect it's because it's an instant town - just add hot water. It seems to have sprung up wherever the moment took it, businesses lining the river and a train track down the middle of the main street. The surroundings are amazing though - amazing!! People seem to have such a blase attitude toward the train from Cuzco, I had no idea the mountain views were going to be worth the price in themselves. Wow.... There must be hundreds of types of plants growing all together in the mountains, from arid cacti and aloes to tropical flowers. And this little town is surrounded by high pointy peaks, jam-packed with their own green. The sun went 'down' at a quarter to three in the main square because everything is so steep and compact. I definitely don't regret booking two nights here. Machu Picchu tomorrow (hopefully I can start really early) and some spare time to try and hit the hotsprings!

 

Well I thought it would be appropriate to end this entry by wishing everyone a happy belated Earth Day. It's April 21st, and everybody knows today is Earth Day, Merry Christmas, Happy Birthday to whoever's being born... Does anyone remember that song? Did it used to be on the 21st or did he get the date wrong, or did April 22nd just not have the same ring? Also happy Administrative Professionals Day, which I believe is today. I hope you're all having a nice day off to celebrate, BBQ, fireworks, the whole shebang. It's a biggie alright. Admin Pro Day. Did it used to be called Secretaries Day??

The best-laid plans of mice and me

The night before I was supposed to go to Caldera (about 9 hours before actually) Jorge of the guesthouse came by and asked about my plans, to which he adamantly responded that I wasn't going to Caldera and had to go to San Pedro de Atacama. He took me straight to the station and helped me change my ticket - no objections on my part, what's the point of spontaneity if it's not spontaneous, and I had no strong feelings either way.

 

As we were walking back from the station we stopped into a little hole-in-the-wall to sample some of a local specialty, wine with strawberry stuff mixed in. Wasn't shabby, but the experience couldn't be beat. The place was maybe 10 feet wide by 15 or 20 feet deep if you count the bar & behind, the bar being about the size of a pastry case, and was packed with people sitting at rickety little tables. A few minutes after we sat down a guy in the back started speaking really loud & moved to the front, doing some sketch - an actor. After he passed the hat and left it seemed that things were winding down, till about 6 indigenous musicians from Ecuador came squeezing into the room to play a few tunes. We expected them to pass a hat too but they didn't - as J commented, maybe they were just there for the love of the art. Then after a while a couple of guys came in to play traditional Chilean music (called Cueca, I think?), at which point a few crusty old locals moved up to the front and took over the guitar, stealing the show with their own songs. After a couple of tunes the original guitarist somewhat shyly managed to steal his instrument back, and they continued on with a song about Valparaiso, which just topped the cake in my magical experience of this town.

 

On the walk home our path merged with a pack of dogs who were chasing cars and coming so close to getting hit, I kept having to look away. They stuck with us till we turned off to a steep stairway, at a corner where a lady with a yard full of cats was going off about those dang dogs and seemingly getting mad at us because she thought they were ours. It wasn't easy to convince her that they weren't with us since a couple of them turned up the stairs with us. Silly muts! I think the dogs around here are as integral a part of the community as the people are.

 

Changing my ticket meant a 5pm departure instead of 7am, so I had an extra day to amble along the charismatic streets of Valpo, the ones that sometimes smell like pee and other times like freshly baked cookies and pastries, the ones that have 90's music drifting out of every window and doorway (apparently a couple of years ago it was 80's music). Did I ever mention that they have the best-ever avocados here? Mmmmmm!!! On this walk I found tons more colorful houses and way better murals than in the open-air museum, and wandered along the historical lane of Paseo Yugoeslava (Baba would have been proud).

 

I was sad to leave Valparaiso but excited for new things. When I woke up to the rising sun after a night on the bus, there were rocks and rocks galore out the right window, and ocean out the left. This coastline looked like the definition of desolate, in a good way. About an hour to my first stop of Antofagasta, in the middle of desert nowhere, there appeared strangely a giant stone hand sculpture. Who put it there or why I can't imagine, there was nobody there! But isn't that the kind of randomness you expect in weird desert places?

 

A quick connection and a few more hours took me to San Pedro de Atacama, one of the coolest places ever!! As interesting as Coober Pedy, but with more history than dynamite and more tradition than blatent oddity. I was instantly glad at having been convinced to come here. Watching all the people riding around on bikes I started to get jealous, and decided a bike ride was definitely in order - plus it was the only way to get out to some of the good desert sites - so I rented a bike and pedalled out to Valle de la Luna. No traffic, nobody anywhere for the most part, two-wheeled bliss!! The scenery was amazing and rugged and spectacular and totally unreal, sand dunes and multi-colored dirt and rocks. Pedalling up a dry creek bed, ditching the bike when it started to get too sandy and walking the rest of the way, I ended up at a kind of dead-end bowl where two plants had managed to eek out a living, plus the bluest sky I've ever seen. Did I mention the Atacama is the world's driest desert? I'll let the photos attempt to do the rest of the talking as I have a bus to catch and don't really know what to say anyway. Coming out of the valley and back onto the main highway, I found myself on a seemingly endless uphill stretch. Stopping part-way up for a bite to eat I pulled out some tunes, choosing Temple of the Dog to help get me the rest of the way up the hill. It worked wonders... and then the payoff. Pushin' Forward Back had just come on, and there opened before me a long, smooth, curvy, perfect stretch all the way down to the next valley. Oh my goodness. I had to touch the brakes on a couple of corners, thinking it best not to kill myself on the last 3 weeks of the trip, but the rest of the way was like flying. If anyone was hiding in the nearby rocks they would have heard me whooping and hollering like a lunatic. Yeeeeaaaaaahhhh!!!!

 

What a day, what a place. I was totally tuckered out by the time my bus was ready to go (6 hours on a bike, 12 hours on a bus, brilliant idea by the way). Norht to Arica, to get to the Peru border. Once again in the morning I awoke to see a vast nothing. Sand dunes, lots of sand, things that looked like farms but were also only sand. Expecting to have to spend a day here, I found (by following another traveler) a colectivo to take us across the border. An old Chevy Caprice Classic loaded down with 6 people and luggage, loco driver who was singing at the border and making cowboy sounds as he whipped the car around after customs, who made gestures and kisses at all the roadside shrines as we whizzed past. Nothing around but sand. Latin music on the radio. What a picture.

 

On arrival in the other-side-of-the-border town of Tacna with a few hours to spare, I wound my way through a huge local market complete with fruit, toiletries, skinned and gutted guinea pigs, the usual. I was able to get a bus to Cusco today, which means arriving a day earlier but a heck of a long time in transit. Speaking of which, I think I'm late for that bus. Gotta run!!!

Cross in the sky, star of the sea...

...Under the moonlight, there she can safely go
Round the Cape Horn to Valparaiso

Yeah I admit the song kind of biased me toward coming here, and it's been circling round my brainy brain for the last 3 days, but that's way better than the 80's pop music that invades my head when I've been in the mountains for a while with nothing to listen to. Like Poison, Whitesnake, oh no it gets worse - Debbie Gibson!! Yeah, I'll take Sting any time.

The last few days in Argentina were spectacular. I went to Puente del Inca for a day, to see the mountains around Aconcagua. Wasn't sure whether I was actually going to go into the park proper, but I opted against, partly because it was enough of a walk just to and from the entrance and there appeared to be a huge storm coming in, and partly because the scenery was already amazing where I was... so much so that I actually forgot to look for the turnoff to the park as I followed foot & horse paths up the valley, and ended up about an hour past it. It was freezing and gloomy with a stiff wind blowing, but the mountains were incredible. An eroded wonderland, rocky peaks jutting out from beneath massive piles of scree that reached all the way up to their chins, as if somebody had unloaded a giant dump-truck over the top. On the ground I was finding rocks to match the hillsides, from pinks to greens and lots in between. There's also this crazy mineral deposit bridge thang at Puente del Inca (the real reason most people stop there) with a thermal bath house built in. It was cool to look at from a short distance but closed off from closer observation as it was deemed peligroso.

The next day I packed up and left my beatiful campsite in Uspallata to cross the border into Chile, back up the same road over the pass and then beyond (this time it was sunny and perfectly clear, but still butt-cold, as one might say... if they were related to me.... or to anyone who's closely related to me). The mountains were as spectacular as ever, and after a couple of hours at customs/immigration bringing us into Chile, we proceeded down a loopy mountain road with a dozen or more hairpin turns that seemed to drop straight down into a dramatic valley. This was the first time the mountains really looked big to me.

As we reached the lowlands the views were still amazing, farms, groves of fruit trees, rivers sparkling in the lemony-yellow afternoon sun, occasional palm trees, towns and villages, a scene that reminded me a lot of Southern California. At least what it could have been, if people didn't totally screw it up. 'Thank You Irvine Company - Green Forever!' You know I don't often admit it, but I am truly a Californian at heart and probably always will be. I love that place, even the southern part that I always compain about, I just hate what people have done to it. Who knows, maybe that's part of the reason I've been displaced for so many years, because the place I love so much is so irreparably ruined that I can't even think of living there again. Damn you, Irvine Company. Damn you all to...... Irvine!

A few hours' drive and then a glimmer on the horizon: the Pacific!! Feels like home, could be the closest thing I have to a geographical home, eh? There's nothing like reaching that coast. When we arrived at Vina del Mar the bus all but emptied; this is the 'nicer' spot on the coast, with good beaches and fancy hotels. Bah-humbug. I, evidently along with the other 3 people remaining on the bus, was looking for something more interesting.

A travel writer once said that there's a magic to place names, and I totally agree. There's no counting the number of dreams that have been born from just hearing a simple name. It doesn't matter what's actually there or if you know anything about it, the name itself seduces curiosity and casts a spell over imagination till they ache for a visit: Madagascar, Machu Picchu, Nairobi, Kiev... Valparaiso.

I was expecting a dingey little port town, and indeed it's a dingey port town but a little bigger than I expected - or perhaps just more full, the half-circle of mountiainsides around the port totally packed with buildings. True to many ports, the utilitarian side of it can be kind of gross and uninviting... but the mere existence of the port is also what lends character to the town. And this is a town oozing with character!! When I arrived on the bus I was met by a guy who was looking for guests at his house, much the way those cute old ladies do in Croatia. I liked him almost instantly, and when I saw the house it was a done deal. He painted it himself, bright yellow in the dining area, blue in the hallway, green up the stairs, the kind of thick paint job that recklessly bulldozes over every nook and crack and peeling patch of wallpaper. I don't know if it's just this house or the town, but when I arrived I found the most fun people: a couple of entertaining young Israelis who you would swear were old-time friends but just met on this trip; two sisters from New York who seem to have a fantastic relationship and like to laugh; a Welsh climber who got me into discussions of religion, politics and family heritage before we even learned each other's names; two sweet Chileans who are here for a few weeks on work-plus-holiday.... not to mention Jorge who runs the place and is always eager to share information about his town, and even the gal who comes to clean up, and will sit down at the breakfast table with her coffee and try so patiently to make conversation despite my lacking comprehension. It's so nice to be in a home too, instead of a big crowded hostel; there are only 3 beds in my room - 2 of which are now empty - none of them bunks!! (I can't tell you how excited I am to have a real bed and nobody above or below).

The local people here so far have been just as kind and patient as those in Argentina, putting up fantastically with my broken Spanish, which often turns to Spanglish, occasionally Spatalian, and once or twice even Cropanish. So far (I think) I've kept the French words to a minimum, which is almost miraculous since my Spanish phrasebook is written for French speakers, an attempt to brush up on both at the same time which actually might be working. But sometimes words just pop into my head and I say them before I have any idea what they mean. Like today I tried to ask if the bathroom was free, and realized a few minutes later I had actually asked if it was a book. Thanks in part to my Croatian studies, I've also become one of those foreigners who leaves out a copious amount of articles and other words that make a language pleasant. Oh well, we can't be perfect all the time (or any of it), so I'll leave the shudders at my horrible grammar up to the native speakers who actually notice!

There are some amazing old buildings in town and century-old elevators up the hills, but after a walk around yesterday and a ride on the oldest ascensor, the magic I was looking for hadn't yet shown its face. Today I went for another wander, almost forgetting that I'd wanted to see the open-air museum, not a museum at all but a collection of murals on the sides of houses and walls. Uncharacteristic of my normal weakness for inertia, when I remembered I stopped and checked the map and then backtracked to get to the area, and it turned out to be the best thing I could have done. The murals themselves weren't too exciting (#20 is the only one I liked) but the neigborhoods up on the hill were amazing!! Old houses with walls made of plaster or corrugated metal or brick, most covered in thick peeling paint, all crammed together in equal and opposing bright colors, I think this place is even more beautiful for the fact that it's falling apart at the seams! Talk about character, steep streets with sea views, colors everywhere, and then there are all the other paintings on walls, steps and railings that people just did on their own independent of the museum, much of it accented with graffiti. I just knew there was a magic here that I couldn't see, I could feel it - and an afternoon up on the hillside showed me the place I was looking for.

As I walked down the hill I heard a pipe and drum band somewhere, but they must have just rounded a corner as I got there and were nowhere in sight. Later I walked down to the rinky-dinky little beach, past all the port stuff and the navy base (sorry, armada - when they have a word that cool you've gotta use it). The ocean views were worth the overly industrial walk, and then there was the surprising sight of a gigantic 4-masted ship, the 4 cross-beams on its front mast lined with about 50 sailors. They looked like seagulls perched up there. It was so bizarre, the only thing I can think is that they were taking an annual photo or something?

Lest we forget it's a whirlwind, tomorrow it's time once again to move on. I was planning to head to San Pedro de Atacama - known for the Atacama Desert of course. Yesterday I almost succeeded in roping G (aforementioned Welsh) into joining me for a few days up into Peru, which would have been lots of fun. I was going to scrap the San Pedro idea in effort to save a day or two on the way, and you know how it is - once you decide to change your plans, it just seems anti-climactic to go back to the original (does anyone else think that way?). So when in the end we couldn't get the timing to work out and G decided to stick to his original plan and head east, I still had this inkling to do something different. Today when I went to the bus station I asked about a ticket to Caldera, about 15 hours up on the coast, and before I realized what I was doing I bought a ticket. I walked away thinking, 'Oh yeah, guess I just decided to go to Caldera!' It sounds like a nice little beach town, & I'm really looking forward to it!

Do you see this thing  ´ ? I think it does something over a letter, but it's on the key where our apostrophe normally is, and it looks exactly like an apostrophe, just a little fainter and maybe a little more angled. The real apostrophe key is up by the zero, and it's totally not natural. So if you see a bunch of these ´´´ ´  that's what's happening! A random bit of useless info to leave you thinking, 'Hmm, I almost liked that entry, but then at the end it went down hill...'

Uspallata

I thought it was a one-horse town, but there are at least three. And a bunch of dogs.

 

What is it that I instantly love about this place? Is it the brightness in the desert air, the way the sun in all its unhindered intensity casts a pure but somehow mellow shine over everything? Is it the inexplicable quiet, as though the endless blue sky were a vacuum stealing the vitality from every sound, that despite everything happening in the street the whole town - it would seem from here the whole world - rests under a blanket of calm?

 

I sit out on the patio of a roadside restaurant watching small-town life go by. Across the street a man steps out of a shop and crouches down between two wooden posts, stretching out his arms to a passing stray dog. Happy for attention the dog wanders up to receive some pets and a hearty hug; after a few minutes the dog carries on and the man returns to the shop. My eye moves to a boy standing on the roadside with flyers in his hand trying to flag down passing cars to stop at the restaurant. Somehow he reminds me of what my grandpa might have been like as a kid; I start to think about how much he would have loved this place, perhaps sitting at the same table and sipping the same strong coffee as I am now, taking in all the sights and muted sounds, enjoying the ever-present smell of a wood fire somewhere...

 

Back at camp the mountain views are spectacular, peaks and ridges contoured in pinks, greys and whites as if moulded from clay. I've tried to take about fifty photos but it seems impossible to capture even a corner of this scene with any sort of justice. Poplar leaves shimmer golden-yellow as the dry wind moves between them, sometimes a whisper, sometimes a shout. It's turned almost a full circle since yesterday bringing in some patchy clouds. I've decided to stay here two more nights and take a day trip tomorrow to Puente del Inca, on the edge of Parque Provincial Aconcagua. Expectation is a funny thing, but this to me is finally starting to feel like South America.

Down to the last spoonful...

Well! As they say, it´s the home stretch, the final inning, the last play... In the end I was totally reluctant to leave Africa, and already started dreaming about the next trip. It took 2 full days to get from Cape Town to Buenos Aires; though just across the water, I had to fly 'via' Dubai, in essence crossing the length of Africa twice, before reaching the Atlantic. The flight from Dubai to Sao Paulo itself was over 16 or 17 hours, my longest single flight ever, which gave me time to catch up on a few flicks that I hadn´t heard of. 'Stardust' was good fun I thought, and 'August Rush' - have you seen it? - was absolutely beautiful. Not often I´ll say that about a movie. I also watched some of 'The Long Way Down', that motorcycle journey where Star Wars dude and his friend rode from the UK down to Cape Town; they covered a lot of ground that was now familiar to me, and I already was missing the places as I saw them on screen. The flight was late getting in and I missed my connection, but there were people at the gate to assist (third party employees of course, wouldn´t expect that from an airline), and thanks to an extrememly helpful guy everything was sorted out in no time and I was on the next flight to BA. However this meant arriving in the middle of the night - or is that the morning? - and then waiting around the airport until the hostel where I planned to stay opened the next day.

 

Needless to say when I arrived in Buenos Aires I was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to sleep all day, but after a couple hours' nap I had this overwhelming feeling that there was this new place just out the window waiting to be explored. Like a little kid on Christmas morning poking you in the forehead, 'Wake up, waaaake up!!' Indeed who can resist the voice of curiosity when it chases away any hope of sleep. So I went out into the gi-normously hu-gantic city for a first glimpse, returning in the evening with a used 'South America on a Shoestring' guidebook I found in a local bookshop. I was wishing my spanish was better as there were bookshops galore with lots of good deals (not that I have any room in the budget or the backpack, but...).

 

If I haven't mentioned it before - though you may have heard this once or twice - I´m really not a city person. BA is a really nice city (did I mention it´s HUGE?) and the more time I spent I found that it's not just a nice central area and then a bunch of crummy streets on the periphery like in many places, it´s a gigantic sprawling grid of clean main streets, fancy cafes and restaurants, interesting buildings and cool statues and sculptures. But indeed the rush and traffic was only good in small doses from my perspective, so I spent most of the time seeking out parks. There´s a nice nature reserve at the river´s mouth (all the water in town is brown but I think it´s natural since it´s a giant outlet?) where it´s possible to escape the rumbles and growls of passing cars for a few kilometers. Then there was this park with an enormous metal flower sculpture; in the center of the flower you could see some kind of computerized stuff, and the stamen had glowing red tops, but the best part was at sunset when I realized that the flower had actually started to close! Past this area is the botanic garden which is small and kind of pleasant, but most notable for the multitudes of cats living inside the gates. There´s a sign at the entrance saying something to the effect of, 'don´t dump your pets here'; evidently it´s an issue.

 

If we truly are what we eat, I would have to suspect that many Argentines are made of sugar. There must be 3 or 4 sweet shops on every street corner, whether for chocolates or cakes, or grocery-store-sized shops which look normal till perusing the aisles you see that there´s not actually any real food. Breakfast was provided each morning at the hostel, and consisted of coffee/tea, a sugary orange drink, and bread with butter and dulce de leche (aka caramel, mmmmm). I started to think I could get used to though, it if it didn´t kill me first.

 

The other main objective for the last week was planning the next stage of the trip: the final 5 weeks. I came up with a few possible itineraries, and like a true addict kept wishing for just one more... just one more week!! It's never enough. I´m trying to get the most out of the last days, fully aware that soon I'll be looking back and wondering what happened to the last 14 months, and why I'm living somewhere and going to the same job every day. It was a real challenge to pare down all the things I wanted to see & do with what was actually feasible. When you travel a lot, choosing places is a lot like choosing faces: deciding who might be worth spending the time and energy to get to know, fully aware that you'll soon be on your way, and even though you know you're passing up infinite great opportunities for connectinos or experiences, there's just no way to invest in them all. Sometimes you just have to talk to someone, other times you don't even say hello because it will soon become a goodbye. Flipping through the guidebook was a lot like this, skimming over parts that could have been so good, trying to find the places I was really interested in, even though I really want to see all of them. There are a lot of miles to cover, but I managed to work out an outline with a few good stops.

 

Saying it will be tight is an understatement. With not enough days to spare and 2 extra days in the outline that I don´t have to spare, I decided that sitting still any longer would only cheat me out of other places, and left Buenos Aires without knowing if this itinerary will actually work. Time was not the only consideration either; shoestrings ain't what they used to be, especially with the ridiculous decline of the dollar (go USA), and after pricing out bus tickets it occurred to me that I was going to run out of money before the trip was over. Yikes. Work isn't an option for me in this part of the world (especially with only a few weeks to go) and the credit card comes with brutal consequences when used overseas... so I resorted to the most merciful lender I could think of, the Bank of Mom. She kindly agreed to loan me some dough (with 'terms' that go beyond generous) which means I can start eating again! This might be an appropriate time to say that I'm not by any means a financial wizard. If nobody understands how I can travel for a long time on wages that tend to be half of other peoples', neither do I. I'm just blessed. Even though I work hard and live really simply, it's not enough. And though I totally suck at budgeting, somehow things always work out. For this trip I have blown my entire savings, sold a few things and tried to keep expenses to a bare minimum, but without a few surprises along the way (for example my whole family being ridiculously generous at bday/Christmas time) I don't think I would have made it. So thanks to all of ya!! This is your adventure too, I hope you're enjoying it.

 

Yesterday I arrived on an overnight bus at the big town or little city of Mendoza. The bus was probably the nicest I've seen, and I had a front-row upper-deck seat which meant windows all around. Lots of stars that night, meal service to boot. Speaking of flicks - I'm a little out of the loop but you probably knew this already - they made a new 'Knight Rider' movie, and oh my goodness did it s-u-c-k!! I didn´t think it was possible to out-do the original in lameness, but they managed it. Took some time out of the bus ride anyway. I spent yesterday at yet another park, a huge one and really good. But the purpose in coming here was to somehow get into the mountains, which looks like it may be more feasible down the road... so I´ve got to catch a bus shortly for Uspallata. Apparently they filmed part of 'Seven Years in Tibet' here... I've got big expectations.

 

Gotta run, here's a quick quote for the road:

It is said that time is money and the truth is that it is much more than that: time is the moment of your existence and that has no price. It is your chance to be here and now, it is your linear way to experience life.  

- 'Aconcagua Summit of the Americas' by Marucio Fernandez

Too marvelous for words

No, I didn't hear anyone playing Sinatra this weekend, but there were a couple of Stevie Wonder covers, some Miles, a few old standards and a ton of great new innovations. Being at a music festival is a lot like being a kid in a candy shop - tasty treats everywhere I turn - and the Cape Town International Jazz Festival was no exception! I swear some of those musicians are super-human, the stuff they're playing is just impossible! It is really inspirational and kind of depressing at the same time. So close but so far away...

In keeping with great travel moments, standing in a jam-packed crowd enjoying the beautiful sounds and sights of Oliver Mtukudzi and co, I realized that half of the audience was singing along with all the words I've never been able to understand. People were so into it, it was exciting. Then later there was this guy from - I think Benin? - who was playing guitar in a trio, his singing mixed with clicks and mouth sounds that only someone used to African languages could begin to make. It was nice to feel a taste of Africa even in a town like this.

In a flash it's already time for me to move on, I am truly sorry to say. Africa is the kind of complex place that I think needs a lot of time, a little energy and an endless supply of dreams. In the meantime, tomorrow I'm scheduled to fly to Argentina. South America, the cool cousin to our continent!

TZ strikes again!

Would you believe that nobody in South Africa will exchange Tanzanian Shillings? Wish I knew that before I got stuck with 'em!

Another day exploring the very westernized city of Cape Town. Got my tickets yesterday for the jazz festival, on my way this afternoon!!! Yeah...

Bipolar by the equator

Tanzania succeeded at pulling me like taffy till the very end. After all my days of planning and tweaking various possible itineraries I discovered that I really could have used that 5th week I'd originally thought I had. As usual I wasn't having much luck getting organized from Dar and thought I should just get on a bus and figure it out as I went. Things were closed for the holidays (a Muslim holiday on Thursday and Easter stuff Friday-Monday) and I wasn't able to get the necessary things done, buying currency etc, before leaving. I was on the verge of getting a ticket to Malawi and just going anyway, but it turned out to be good that I didn't; upon re-working my itineraries with a little more information, I found that even if I'd left earlier in the week I would have had at very best 7 solid days on buses and only one day to stop and see anything. At this point there wasn't even time to make the overland journey straight through. So I did what you sometimes must do, what a friend calls "throwing money at it", and booked a flight.

This left a few more days in tropical paradise. Living off of bananas, avocados and mangoes from local fruit stalls, warm sunshine, water like a bathtub. I was a little disappointed that my last few days would be over the Easter holiday meaning major crowds, but found that nobody arrived until the afternoon. Mornings are always the best time anyway, the water the most calm and cool enough to be refreshing, the nearby resort taking a few hours' break from blasting their crap music, and I was happy to have this early bliss almost completely to myself. This was also a good time to get to know a few local people, which I really enjoyed.

One evening I was walking down the beach (evening of course being the crowded time, high tide, rough water, junk washing up on the beach, aforementioned loud crap music) and feeling stressed almost to the point of rage as I was wanting nothing more than a calm place to sit but had this mosquito of a person following me and droning in my ear. "I go with you, ok?" "No, leave me alone now." "Why?" "Because I said so." "But whyyy?" I finally found a tiny stretch of empty sand and buried my thoughts in sulking mode. But then as I continued to walk, a light shone in front of me. There was this stalky lady with 3 little kids, ball in hand, who had such a bright energy that she kicked it up into the air and then ran headfirst into the water to fetch it, all the kids laughing and following her. When she saw me coming she yelled out, "Rafiiikiiii!!!" [friend] and tossed the ball to me. After a few back-and-forths with her and the kids I continued on; I waved to them and one of the little girls dropped the ball as she was distracted with waving back. Then the mom thanked me. She thanked me. She had no idea that she'd just rescued my night.

Later as the sun was setting I ran into a young rasta (S) and stopped for a chat. I have this picture stuck in my head of him standing with his back to the sea waxing poetic about all kinds of things, cheshire grin glowing in the waning light as night rose behind him, carrying the full moon on its shoulders. As I walked my camp splashing along the warm water, the shining path to the moon stretched all the way to my feet. Looking back over the land, continuous lightning from the evening's storm was revealing gigantic skeleton clouds looming overhead. What a place.

Up early and to the beach on my last full day at Kipepeo, I ran into S who joined me for a walk to the sunny riverside, an outlet at the top end of the beach. Later when we stopped for a swim he whistled to a guy walking a bicycle loaded with coconuts - these guys are always around - and bought a couple for breakfast. These aren't the little brown things with the hard meat and fibrous insides, they're the nice red-blonde oblong ones like you get with Thai curries with soft meat that almost melts off the shell. The guy expertly shaved off a little of the husk with a knife and lopped the tops off so we could drink the juice, then took them back and scraped the meat from the middle with a stick. Soft and sweet, a nice coconut treat before jumping into the perfect water. Do mornings get any better than this? Later I went to the snack stand that S and a friend had just opened up, to share some fruit and some tasty fried cassava. The afternoon rains came in a big way this time, and as local people came around to wish them luck and sample the goods, soon there were a bunch of us huddled under this little grass roof. I had no idea what they were saying most of the time, but I'm used to that these days, and it was fun to watch all these people interact - some young girls, one with baby in tow, who'd come down to buy buckets full of fish, an old man who's an elder in the village, a dad and his young son... It's the kind of taste of local life that you just don't get when you breeze through a place.

But true to the wandering life, just as I was starting to get comfortable of course it was time to go! After one last early morning beach walk and one last breakfast of french toast with that beautiful honey, I packed up to go. I'd planned a lot of spare time to get to the airport so I could take local transportation (in keeping with my aim to never take another Tanzanian taxi), so I wasn't too worried when I got going a little late. I donned my pack and said goodbye to a few people where I was staying, growing sad at having to leave these smiling faces behind, and instead of the road took to the beach for some last views on my way to the village. Standing with my feet in the warm water gazing on blue sparkles and an endless stretch of sand, it was hard to pry myself away. Stopped by the stand to say goodbye to S, who kindly accompanied me to the dala dala (minibus) and wrote directions for me to get the right connection for the airport. Before boarding the ferry back into the city I had to stop at the local internet place to reconfirm my booking for a hostel in Cape Town; the sweet quiet guy working there saw my backpack and said, "Please don't tell me you're going!" which made me feel good and sad at the same time. People have a way of doing that.

I'd been to this place a few times, and this was the first time that all the computers were full. There was a 25-minute wait which made me a little nervous about timing, but I had to reconfirm my booking by noon. When I double-checked the details of my booking I found that the email said to reconfirm by early March - where did I get noon on arrival day stuck in my head?? I sent them an email to reconfirm in hopes that my booking was still good, and to request an airport pickup since I was scheduled to arrive after 10pm. Unable to retrieve email after that, I left my mobile number so they could text me, though, out of credit, I couldn't reply if they sent a negative answer. Hoping for the best.

Business done I walked down to the ferry and into the holding area where I waited... and waited... This was the first time I'd seen anything longer than a 5-minute wait for the ferry. Getting a little more nervous about getting to the airport. Once we arrived the other side I started looking for the right bus. Now short on time, I asked the first person who said hello to me where I might find the right bus. He not only pointed me toward it, he walked with me to the station and waited till the bus arrived to make sure I got on. Waited... and waited.... this also seemed to take much longer than it should have. Traffic in town. More nervous yet. The bus, like all of the little buses here, was crammed with people enjoying less than standing room. Combine this with the tropical heat that seeps sweat from every inch of skin, and a lack of handholds except the little bars of the metal luggage rack overhead which get slippery when hands are sweaty, plus not enough room to spread out my feet for balance and almost 20 kilos on my back, and it becomes challenging to stay still without knocking anyone over. Plus people exiting from behind have to squeeze and crawl past everyone in their way, impossible when one of those is wearing a full-sized pack. A man sitting close to where I was generously offered to hold my pack on his lap. Considering the weight, the slowness of the bus due to city traffic, and the still heat, I thought he was a saint. When we arrived at the airport yet more help, a guy outside the bus took my pack out the window so I could crawl past everyone without the extra load. Why is it when you try to leave a place that all the nice people come out of the woodwork? So many Good Samaritans in one day.

Needless to say, my eyes were on my watch and getting more anxious by the minute. The bus stop was about 5 or 10 minutes'  walk (probably 5 but it felt like 10) to the terminal. I went through security and up to the counter with only about 40 minutes to take-off, fully aware that the flight could be closed within 10 minutes. Should I add here that amidst all the rush for the flight what I really wanted to do was get checked in and find a toilet. I was relieved at finally reaching the counter, thinking I was safe now, but it was short-lived. As the lady tried to check me in she had to call someone else over and they informed me that my booking had been cancelled due to lack of a ticket!! I had made my booking online and received confirmation, but somehow the ticket was never actually issued. A good lesson to always look for and write down your ticket numbers; sometimes I get too comfortable with travelling and let the details slip. I asked if I could pay by Mastercard and they said No, no credit cards! Mind you this isn't some po-dunk little regional airline, it's South African Airways, member of the Star Alliance, which hails itself for great technology and ease of booking. I had to pay by cash. The lady told me to go to the ATM, "but don't delay, the flight is closing". Like I'm going to delay! Honestly. And I have to admit, amid the surprise I was also harboring thoughts that they were scamming me and my card was already charged for another ticket, but what could I do? I went back out through security to the ATM but it was broken. Somebody pointed me to another one, which had a queue that took what seemed to me ages. As I stood there I was envisioning having to get back on the bus, go back through the busy city, spend another night and do it all again the next day, and suddenly about the place I was so reluctant to leave earlier in the day I was thinking, "Get me out of here!!!!!!!!" When it was finally my turn I tried one bank card, no luck. The second, no luck. I finally had to rely on my Visa card, which never gets used at ATMs due to ridiculous cash advance fees. But I got the money.

I went back through security and to the counter, and the lady took me upstairs to the office to issue my ticket. When I got the ticket it was only for Johannesburg, not connecting to Cape Town. She said, "Oh, you didn't tell me you wanted to go to Cape Town." On the contrary I hadn't told her anything, she had my record right in front of her which is how she got my first flight info, she just didn't look. (I was not too happy with this lady and told her that she should have seen it in my record.) She booked me on a connecting flight but said I'd have to pay for this ticket separately when I got to Jo'Burg. Fine. She didn't have change to give me (only about $2 worth, but it's the principle) and didn't mention it till I asked her for it as I was leaving the counter. A guy was standing by to help and show me to the gate since the flight was about to go, and she asked him if he had any money on him. He pulled it out and handed it to her and she gave it to me, at which point I said to him, "Wait, are they going to give this back to you?!" and he shrugged his shoulders, Dunno. I really didn't believe that they would pay him back, being here and an airline, so when he said, "Can you use that where you're going? Why don't you just leave it for me?" I consented. Seriously what kind of business is this?

He escorted me through passport control and to the gate. I was fully expecting to run onto a waiting plane as it was after the scheduled departure time, but when I got to the gate and asked for the flight a lady told me it hadn't boarded yet. Finally time for a toilet stop, then they called the flight and I was soon in my seat in the very last row of a not-full flight (not that I'm complaining about the service or anything). At least I'd made it to the first half of the journey. As we took off all I could think about was getting a whiskey when they brought the drinks around, a little comfort (since they don't have pints of fudge ice cream on planes). The views out the window were amazing, gorgeous green country just waiting to be explored. I decided I have to come back soon, there's so much to see! By the time the drink cart came around I decided fruit juice and water sounded way better than whiskey, and sipped down an apple 'chooch' [as we used to call it] with much contentment.

During the flight announcements they did the usual plug for Duty Free purchases on-board. I thought it was ironic when they said you could pay by credit card. On the plane. You can't buy a ticket from a major airline at the airport with a credit card, but at 30,000 feet you can use it to buy over-priced crap.

When I arrived at Jo'Burg I discovered that the lady in Dar had booked me on a later connecting flight th