blood, sweat, and sandboarding

A lot has gone down this week. After arriving in Pisco, I went to a rural community a few hours away to work on a water filtration system, only to walk through the host family´s door and lie down in a fetal position for almost two days. It´s the worst being sick in a house with no running water(the toilet doesnt flush). Luckily, I sucked it up before I got here and overpaid for some anti-biotics, which took care of whatever was causing chaos and violence within my stomach. It was that bad. As seven or eight other group members would soon find out.SSSSoorrry. On the second day, while bathing in the river and recouperating, I coasted down with the tide underwater only to head face first into a large rock and bust up my nose. Andrew, theres blood coming from your nose, a lot of blood. But the end the week left me down in a good way. charging down a giant sand dune on a snowboard. Get down, or go home.

I´m back in the crowded bunk room at HODR´s headquarters and I´ll spend most of the week on the rubble crew, bringing down the cracked brick walls of former households and adding more debris to the street. I spent my day off, yesterday, at an oasis nearby and took a dune buggy tour of the sand dunes. This is like taking a small boat through a choppy ocean, only sand. The beauty of the dunes is accentuated by the absolute silence, but of course I just cant be happy until I rip through the natural landscape on a board. The sunset, I took in on its own.

I dont have much time to write. No more wit or satire. Ive been in south america for nearly two months and Ive been on the planet for nearly 23 years. I dont want sentimenality to turn off faithful readers, but I will note one simple, obvious, realization. I believe its most important to be where you are entirely, content and with passion. This only seems possible when you make the decision to turn time from a restriction to an absolute freedom. I wont make any difference to myself or anyone else, waiting for the right amount of money, the right degree, or the right circumstance to indulge in everything Ive been brought up to desire. Ive been lucky enough to find enough encouragement to take off, feet first, eyes closed--and yes it feels like dreaming.

´´We are here on Earth to fart around. Dont let anybody tell you different.´´

PS, If anyone is ever interested in visiting, or traveling together in the future, do as the aussies here say- GET IN THERE!

Pisco Sour, Pisco under Rubble

I made it to Pisco, with Hands On Disaster Relief. I was met by two crazy guys and a girl who handed me a bottle of champagne, (lemon flavored?) and we walked to the beach which is five minutes away. The Australian guy and the other one from seattle keep calling me Charlie, or something of the sort. The water was cold and refreshing and dirty like the east coast, like east coast.

I was in Lima for 4 days and there are undoubtedly a few things I´ve learned. When you´re traveling around Lima, it´s good if you have a guide. It´s safe and secure when your guide is an off-duty cop, and he keeps his glock under his leg when you´re driving around in the city. But you might be with a mayor driving around in an SUV, (I was) so you´ll need to move the shotgun from under your legs onto the back seat--it´s just better to keep one around. Enough of the hypotheticals, Lima was ridiculous and different and in many ways, for a few days, I was "living the life." We drove through sand dunes, charging over 50 degree angles and through steep, narrow, paths. I had my first pisco sour at a health club on the coast, and afterwards sat in a sauna and talked to a young lawyer, and then had another. He spoke perfect english and I forced more bad spanish. Mi Maestro was the perfect host. We talked about Fujimora and being rich and being poor, and still its tough to find any definitive answers. We want to help, we want to be happy. There is plenty of room for sacrifice, but I know mental health is important. You need to get your head straight.

Its funny to be with a guide, a bodygaurd, someone dedicated to constantly entertaining you. For example, because my guide didn´t speak any english, I tried my damndest to make conversation and to have fun. I asked Rodriguez if he liked the beach, if it was close. Do you like to go with your family. An hour later we´re in a boat. Yeah, I was just asking about your interests, but I like la playa, the beach, la mar, and the ocean.

I left in a rush, overslept and again I´m on the bus. Its only a few hours and next thing I know the woman on the bus is asking, in english, where I am staying (something new). She says its a bit unsafe but I ravage through my luggage and find an address and within 10 minutes Im at the HODR house. Now its back to the house. I´m the newest member of a wine club (its sunday) and the beach is a stones throw away. Busy day under the sun before its back to work. They say its all sledge hammers and shoveling. I think I´ll manage.

by land, by river, by 24-hour bus

(pictures to come, just an update for now)

I am a bit behind. Really I am, I missed my chance at the 24 hour bus from Guayaquil, Ecua to Lima, Peru so Im ¨just kicking it¨ (as PJ would put it) in the highest-populated city in ecuador. All this means is that I spent a good amount of my day in a park with prehistoric looking lizards, giant iguanas, reading and drinking fresh mora (blackberry) juice. A three or four year old girl had one particularly large one by the tail, and drug it behind here like a toy car on a string- this was both horrific and hilarious.

I took a trip to the Oriente a couple weeks ago. This was the jungle, and it took 3 and a half hours on a motorized canoe, after 11 hours on the road, to get there. The huts in the lagon I stayed in with only one other guest were amazing. No electricity, only candles for your room and gas for the kitchen. However there wasn´t a lack of giant insects, and the most amazing frog found on the trip was in my toilet bowl.

My jungle experience was pretty much like jungle book. Me mogley. I ate larvae, stuck my hand in an ant nest, went out in the dark night river to find smal aligators (camens) and finally fished, gutted, and ate a giant pirrahna. I made some videos of some of these events that I will have to dedicate to any family member living south of pennsylvania. (I will post soon) Aside from these native activities, although the ¨natives¨ were much more civilized than the grigo loco, I saw saw beautifully exotic birds and loved every minute I spent on the river.

This past weekend was a fiesta in Cuenca. It wasn´t entirey loco, but we spent friday night in the park listening to Andean music and some fusion (the latter the smooth Jazz of the Latin world) drinking sangria and liter bottles of beer.

Laughing in the face of danger

Ok Andrew, it's 430, and you're in Centro de Quito (Old Town) getting ready to leave for the other side of the city. The trolley is going to be crowded. Be careful, you just met some naive peace-core volunteer who stepped on weeks earlier, with way too much luggage. His backpack was too big, he had too much in his hands, too much on his plate, and someone stole his chicken leg right out from under him. Someone took his wallet. But that's not going to happen. Put your money clip with 10 dollars in your breast pocket. Whats left in you pocket, your knife. Ok, go ahead and try to take that. Hold your messenger bag tight against your chest, with your hand gripping the camera thats inside. Notice everyone, even the old woman. Especially the old women.

This is what I am thinking and I am totally aware of my surroundings. A woman keeps yelling at me that her kids are behind/under me, los ninos, cuidado, los ninos. Yeah lady, where am I suppose to go? We get through a few stops and Ashely finds a seat, I squeeze by someone in a milatary uniform who gives me a military face. But now I have room, I'm standing on a platform where the seats are, standing above ashley. Sixty seconds later she notices slash marks on the side of her soft-fabric tote bag. 'O god, look at this andrew, look at these slash marks.' 'Jesus, when did that happen' (I think we kept calling out the Lord's name because we just left Iglesia de la Compania de Jesus, a magnificent church whose insides are literally plated in Gold. Apparently the best way to pay homage to am man who lived a life of poverty is to plate his house with 14 karat.) 'I don't know Andrew, I was holding it close the whole time, what about yours.'

I look at my bag, 'Hijos de PUTAS, (profanities in spanish) you gotta be kidding me' There's a perfectly-straight razor blade-slash along the left side of my bag.' I assess the situation. Everything's still there. I was holding my bag too tight. I knew the scam, it goes like this. Simply, everyone is packed so tightly that someone deftly slashes your bag in hopes things will fall out. Nothing fell out, and aside from a hole in my new scarf everything was a-ok. I think it must have been a kid, someone short, someone I couldn't see. So it wasn't really too dangerous, but a shock nonetheless.

After enough of the pollution and child thieves, I decided it was a perfect weekend for a retreat to nature, so Ashley and I got on a bus and took a 2.5 hour ride to the cloud forests of Mindo. The scene was beautiful. We spent Friday afternoon at a mariposarium (a butterfly garden) and checked out some local flora. The garden was beside a small pond and on the deck above, hummingbirds come within a few feet to feed from dangling feeders. A main draw to the netted garden is a species of butterfly known as the Owl's Eyes. One each of its light, earth-brown wings in a black spot circled by a white ring, a shape that looks startlingly like an Owl's eye, and when both wings are spread-a perfect pair.

On Saturday we took the advice of our hostel owner - a middle aged woman who just returned from a three day trip digging up indigenous graves in hope of finding gold- and went on a hike through the forests to some waterfalls. After taking a wire supported cart, a couple hundred feet in the air, from an elevated road from one mountain side to another; we hiked through dense cloud forest for 45 minutes to a flowing wall of fresh water. At this elevation, on most days clouds literally cover the upper half of the forests, so even on a clear day the trees, the ferns, the palms and the mucky ground remain damp. It was especially surreal because we took the road less trodden, not a single person had gone down the path that morning. We knew it, for we constantly stepped into spider webs and loose branches. The reward was a freezing cold shower under a 70 foot (or so) waterfall. Invigorating.

On the way back we stopped at a coffee plantation and an old man who spoke Spanish with a french accent explained the process of growing, then selecting, the finest coffee beans. He also squeezed in a few lessons in European history and on a world map, showed us the places where thumb-tacks represented the various cities that the children he had fathered throughout the years were now living. Bad ass.

The weekend was ended with a picturesque horse ride, as we rode past cows grazing on lush green grass and on bridges over the Rio Mindo.

I'm back in Quito, trying to plan a trip into the jungles of the Orient. And once again, its late afternoon and its raining a cold rain. It reminds me of the waterfalls from the days passed. only this time, I can't get naked and jump in like an innocent native boy.

Lessons in Suffering

Its hard to say what draws more grief, more sympathy for the suffering of man: expressionist painter Oswaldo Guayasamin dedicated his life to depicting -through his art- the pain that people endure in times of war, genocide, and catastrophe. This past Saturday evening, under a steady chilled rain, Ecuador fell to Venezuela in the first of the qualifying matches for the 2010 World Cup. The comparison of course is ludicrous, but I didn´t see any grown men on their knees, in tears, at the Guayasamin museum.

The past week has been busy, but my time in and around Ecuador´s capital has been stretched longer than originally expected. I feel as if I´ve been here a month. This week´s field trips included a visit to the botanical gardens in a central park, teeming with orchids, and an uphill excursion to the Guayasamin museum "La Capilla del Hombre" (The cathedral of man- a conceptual featuring some of his most famous paintings).

Thursday was a day of rest in preparation for the long weekend. I took in a great view of Old Town and the surrounding Andes from the Panecillo (little bread), a small loaf of land on top of which stands a magnificent statue of La Virgen (Jesus´mom). And the next day, on a hillside of old town directly across from the the southern Panecillo, I climbed the rickety planks and metal ladders to the top of a Gothic cathedral, which lonely planet refers to as the most dangerous view of the city. A bit over-exaggerated, but an interesting view none-the-less. Respectively, since it was 4pm, the sights from the stone-carved, clover-shaped window in the clock tower were little more than dark clouds and hazy hill tops. On more than half of the days since my arrival, the day begins with a crisp sunshine that burns through low lying clouds. At about media dia (some point after noon), massive down-comforter clouds of gray and black move over the metropolis and begin to relieve themselves for the remainder of the day. Thankfully, being so close to the equator, it remains just warm enough not to cause a depression similar to that of April slush in Boston.

Aside from the sorrow, seeing a soccer match in South America was exciting enough win or lose. As a friend huddled with me under layers of ponchos and 2 dollar umbrellas, she mentioned, this is everything to some of these people. I could see what she meant when instead of umbrellas, one entire section of the stadium used a massive national flag for cover, an attempt to bolster the sopping spirits of the fans.

Speaking of sports, I´m beginning to miss a bit of the USA and in my haphazard attempt to keep in touch I found out the Sox game will more than likely be televised at a local bar- I´ll try to be

there. Hopefully I won´t have to watch any of the expatriate fans crying.

We travel just to travel

It has been almost a week since my arrival, one that was too easy and a bit too rushed. My first day in Quito was filled with errands with my host, guide, and translator. The sun is a real bastard when you´re at 10,000 feet and a stones throw away from the equator, so I was roasted red and exhausted by the end of Tuesday.
The family I'm staying with, Ashley´s host, seems more than happy to have me and their two sons seem more than happy to use me as a jungle gym. Two things to note when a guest in someone else´s house. All kids love candy, all women love flowers. If neither of these work in winning over the affection of strangers, just show them the picture you have of all the men in your family in the mountains, holding up a giant piece of meat. And if that still doesn´t work, hopefully you have another photo of your brother taking a hard swing at your 10 year old sister´s jaw.
On Wednesday morning we took off for Baños, a small town a few hours south of Quito surrounded by green mountains and long winding roads. The main attraction, for tourists ranging from the Quito, to the United States, to Brazil, which is where one couple we met was from, are the thermal baths- la piscina de virgen- sitting right under a magnificent waterfall. You can see the fall throughout the town, and if your lucky, from the balcony outside of your hotel room, which shouldn´t cost more than 20 dollars a night.
On Thursday we rented a couple of mountain bikes for 5 bucks and took to the hills, up and down the mountain, stopping at waterfalls and for the occasional motorcycles, trucks, and indigenous traveler on foot. Most of the ride was picture perfect, a cyclist´s dream. However, I had to push things a bit far-think ben stiller in heavy weights. The bike ride took a road that led to another larger town, Puyo, nearly 70 kilometers outside Baños. I had an unspoken desire to make it. Perhaps it should have been spoken. After almost subsiding to an asthma attack and nearly collapsing, Ashley decided that our pace was unnecessary, and that walking some of the higher-grade hills would be alright. In the end, I paid, with a sure case of sunburn. This is what happens when you take a bike ride in the middle of the day through the mountains, while needless to say, I didnt listen to my mother, and Im still in need of sunblock, preferably SPF 75, they have that right--finding shade at noon in Baños is like trying to find dr pepper in Quito, dont bother. Once after asking if I could take a snowmobile off of a small cliff my mom asked why I had to take every damn thing I did to some absurd extreme.
I don´t know mom. Someone once said, if something like this is worth doing, its worth doing right.
Ok, off to pick up my laundry and get lunch. No one likes a smelly, starving gringo.
Ciao,
andrew
p.s. photos to come soon, forgot my cable, and need to wait to get a CD developed