Soooo, I wrote everything down in great detail in my roadside journal, but it seems redundant to type out every last word, so here is the abbreviated version.
Dec. 8th
I started my vacaction by venturing to Mancora and meeting up with all the students from Pacifico University. Upon arriving I was greeted with vodka slushies and Aussies singing drunken kareoke. The place reminded me of a chintzy Club Med, it had little activities set up for tourist all day, volleyball, poker tourneyments...The point was they wanted everyone to be drinking and staying within the confines of the hostel, they even gave you a wristband to charge your drinks on...pretty dangerous.
Dec.10th
My buds and I decided we had enough of the party and jumped in a cramped van towards Lobitos, a local surf spot 2 hours down the road. Lobitos is an ex-military encampment that appearently has a good amount of oil beneath its borders. The coast is littered with oil rigs, both in and out of the water, spewwing out sinister fireballs every twenty minutes or so. The town itself (if you want to call it a town) has two resturants and is covered in dusty remains of the old fort; monuments, barracks, walls with inspiring slogans 'No te pidas que el país puede hacer para ti, pero que puedes hacer para tu país (Ask not what your country can do for you, but...). Additionally, there are approximately 4 things to do in Lobitos: eat, surf, read and surf, so bring some sunscreen and a good book if you're making the trip.
Soooo, Scott (Canadian), Moritz (Austrian), Mikko (Finnish) and I (Chicagoan) made up one of the oddest surf groups Lobitos has ever seen, so we found one of the oddest places to stay within Lobitos. It was an old military warehouse that was converted into a 'Surf Camp' (it had 'surf camp' written everywhere). There was no plumbing, but there was a hose which was converted into a shower. The upper level was open air and the owner rented out tents for you to sleep in. It was bare bones, but it had character...The best part about it was you could see all the surf spots after taking two steps from your tent and the colorful sunsets were unreal. Day after day we woke up and surfed, the Bob Marley playlist would be stuck on repeat and we shared stories, food, herb and toilet paper. Somewhere along the way my stomach became unsettled and I spent majority of the nights using the makeshift toilet waaay too many times...which was shitty, pun intended. I had some trouble riding the fast left handers without the comfort of my wetsuit in the chilly water, but final got my shit together and grabbed a beauty, hard nips and all. The three conclusions I took from this trip: Canadians are a grumpy people (especially in the morning), being positive is the key to survival (and learning how to surf) and peanut butter is the spread of the Gods.
Dec 15.
After a solid morning surf session, I bid my good friends farewell and began my long, treacherous journey towards Bogota, where I would meet my roommates for Christmas. The first step was crossing the border of Ecuador and finding a bus to Quito. So, I hopped on a bus toward Tumbes, a Peruvian border town, and attempted to find a company that would take me in the right direction. After getting mobbed by various bus ticket vendors, I bought my ticket to Quito and prepared myself for a long trip. However, after 20 minutes the bus dropped us off at the immigration office and took off.
In all the confusion, I put all my trust in a Peruvian mother and her child (she claimed I was her responsibility) as we hurried from the border office, jumped the highway median and flagged down a cab with semi-trucks flying by our noses. So I blindly hopped in a cab with this lady and her child and we winded down the dark and dreary streets of this Ecuadorian border town...sketchy. Turns out this lady wasn't crazy and I just ended up making the next Quito bus, plus they gave us snacks! I wish the people at the bus station would have told me about my personal escort because I was extremely uneasy about the whole night flight from the border office, in fact I was scared shitless going down some of the narrow streets of the border town, but all is well that ends well. Finally I rested my head on the bumpy bus window and attempted to sleep for the entire 18 hours of the agonizing busride.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Ole Mountain Machu Picchu
Hey there blog, you must be feeling pretty neglected. I'll come clean and say that I've been cheating on you with my travel journal, it's just too damn easy. Here is what I have after my trip to Machu Picchu, its kind of long so prepare yourself.
Journal entry from Dec. 4, 2010:
I just returned from a 6 day stint, exploring the mountainous Peruvian landscape on my way to Machu Picchu. It was an exhasting trip, but it had to be done. First off, let me say that I packed waaay too much, my Kooch brothers would not be proud. So I lugged my sack to Cusco where I sat next to Meg Robinson on the plane; turns out she is a fellow Lake Forester and is the cousin of my Aunt Peggy, weird huh? I chatted with her and her husband (Steve?) and they gave me a free lift into town. After getting settled, I hit the streets where I haggled with local artisans, took way too many pictures of churches and chose a trip guide from a plethora of eager tour companys. The night was fairly uneventful, I sipped on some cold beers and watched a American football game, which made me feel right at home.
The next morning I awoke at 7am and hopped in a van that would hopefully take me to Ollantaytambo. I quickly introduced myself to the other travelers and found myself surrounded by some Germans, Canadians, Austrailians and Israelis. The driver sped up the climbing hills, making plenty of unnessasary passes, as we gauked out the window at the breath taking scenary. At one point they told everyone inside to jump out of the van and we mounted bicycles to navigate down the slippery roads. It seemed like we were in some cheezy date movie because as soon as we started pedalling, the clouds descended upon us and a mix of heavy rain and sleet set in that chilled everyone down to the bone. Knowing that I paid for the experience, I painfully withstood the cold barrage of water, attempting to smile, weaving in between the yellow lines to distract myself from mother nature's poorly timed downpour. Many of the others conceded and were picked up by the van following close behind, but after an hour or so the guide called it quits and we all piled back into the van and peeled the wet sock from our feet. Afterwards we ate a pretty crumby lunch composed of cheese sandwiches and breath mints, and allow me to say that Peruvian cheese is nothing to write home about. Of coarse, as we continued down the road the rain let up and we caught a glimpse of the natural beauty that this land holds, which got me pretty excited about our final destination. We arrived to a small hostel in the middle of nowhere, hidden beneath the daunting green mountians that surrounded us, and I befriended the group of Israelis as we watched Barcelona destroy Real Madrid in an exciting gradge match on the only TV in town.
A brief explanation of the Israelis:
Raz: a tall, confident, Israeli dude with great beard growing genes
Roy: typical Jewish mannerism (according to any Woody Allen movie), thick ginger beard, quick wits and fast hands when it comes to cards
Amet: Not afraid to say that he is one handsome Israeli with a heart of gold
Israeli Couple: Couldn't remember their names to save my life, didn't say much in English, but were always really encouraging when it came to practicing Hebrew (pretty much learned that; Ma = what and Yalla = come on, hurry up)
Best Memory: Watching Roy (the ginger) freak out at the sight of a large moth near his bed. I was like: Dude, you spent three years in the army, get it together...he was soooo sterotypically Jewish.
So the Israelis taught me their favorite card game, Yaniv, and I taught them how to play Asshole (President according to our Peruvian guide, Frank). Between all of us we played a lot of cards. The next day we set off on foot to walk along the original Inca trail, it was a day full of hiking, climbing, exploring, eating fruits from trees, juggling mangos, fondling monkeys, speaking Hebrew, applying traditional facepaint, snapping photos of deep valleys and rolling hills, laying in hammocks, crossing rivers and, finally, smoking a fatty in a natural hot spring. You know just another day at the office.
Trying to make as many friends as possible, I made an attempt to talk to the German dudes, Canadian girls, the Irish chick, but it was the Austrailian sheylas that grabbed my attention. Feeling as though I made a poor first impression, I rose early the next day to find that all of the Aussie lassies were doing a canopy tour, which I promptly joined. So there I was, flying on ziplines at around 50 mph, surrounded by gorgeous Peruvian mountain tops and 7 beautiful Aussie chicks, what a way to spend a morning. By the end of it, the conopy guides offered me a job (because of my Spanish skills and super zipline capabilities) and I got to know Jenna, Ali, Alex, Rachel, Meera and the two other less attractive girls, sorry ladies.
Afterwards, we ate lunch and started marching along the train tracks to Aguas Calientes. Along the way, we took a pause at a small rain shelter. There, our guide gave us a legitimate lecture about the Peruvian culture, traditional practices and a demonstration of the power Coca leaves. During the break I spoke to a Peruvian Rasta, named Cusco, about how to eat the Coca leaves, when all of a sudden Bob Marley (Tío Bob) started playing in the distance. Not being able to miss a perfect opportunity, Cusco and I sparked that shit up and he told me more about the lay of the land! After a couple laughs and personal thoughts we said our goodbyes and trudged down the tracks. During the trip, I chatted with Jenna and Ali about a wide variety of topics, I gotta say I was impressed with their intellect, I guess Austrailia isn't just made up of a bunch of criminals! Ha, man, I need to read more books. Finally, we arrived to Aguas Calientes, I met the Israelis once again, we prepared to wake before the break of dawn and, of coarse, played a good amount of Yaniv. By this point I was pretty low on cash and supplies, so I created the poor man's cookie sandwich by stuffing chocolate graham crackers into day old bread rolls, yum.
Anyways, the alarm screeched at 4am and I slowly crawled from my warm, cozy bed into my damp, stinky hiking gear. We briskly walked in silence through the darkness until we reached the foot of the mountain. Showtime. Raz and I hauled ass and reached the top within 40 minutes, racing the tourist buses full of lazy travelers. The numorous stairways leading up to the park entrance acts as an unofficial competition between the various hikers in Aguas Calientes, everyday the champion waits in the front of the line, smugly greeting the visitors that ate his/her dust. Additionally, the first 300 people that enter each morning are given a stamp that gives them the opportunity to hike Waynapicchu, the slightly taller mountain in the backdrop of all the Machu Picchu photos and post cards.
So, we waited in line anxiously until finally we were admitted into the park. The Incan gods favored us that day because the sky was a gloriously soft blue hue and the clouds seemed to kiss the tops of the furry, green mountains. The sun rise atop Machu Picchu beamed directly through me, into my core, and it reminded me that there is a vast amount of beauty in this world, you just need to get outside and find it for yourself. Ironically, after a couple pictures on top of the ruins, my camera died. However this turned out to be a blessing in disguise because I realized to truly appreciate the vision in front of you, you must memorize every last detail and digest the sight in silence. Throughout the day I watched too many tourist snapping enough photos to make their fingers bleed, they could never capture the essence of the vision posing with peace signs and false smiles. It's almost as if they spent their entire stay in this amazing place behind their camera lense. Well, enough preaching for me.
So I spent nearly 10 hours exploring the ruins, climbing Waynapicchu, sitting in solitude, collecting my thoughts, writing songs and ideas and, of coarse, playing with llamas. I passed the majority of the day by myself, occasionally tagging along with different tours and bumping into past acquantances. The O2 atop Machi Picchu was some of the freshes air I have come across and the effect of the rising and falling clouds was truly magical. At one point I sat in a crisp, green valley of grass surrounded by llamas, then the clouds descended and I was suddenly resting in a sea of mist and strange noises (murrr), definately one of the most surreal moments I have experienced. This may be a bit over dramatic, but I left a piece of myself on top of that mountain...literally I wipeed some of my boogers under some rocks, haha. All in all, it was a great experience that provoked some self-reflection, a healthy dose of hiking and meeting new people.
One thing that sticks out in my memory is that I saw a traditional looking Peruvian, hiking with no shoes and worn feet. He stood on top of one of the highest rocks of Waynapicchu and he played a deilghtful little melody on his wooden flute. Suddenly an security guard interupted him with an ugly shout and told him loud noises were restricted in the park. The Peruvian calmly asked 'And who restricts the sounds', the guard responded 'el gobierno de Peru', his retort 'Well I only answer to the gods above me'. He quickly stepped off the rock and shuffled down the dangerous steps, pausing every now and then to play his intrument freely. This sight gave me hope that traditional lifestyles have a chance in this cold, concrete world if the people are persistent and sincere.
I didn't feel the effect of the hiking until I began hiking down the mountain, holy moly was I stiff. Getting back to Aguas Calientes I boarded a train back towards Cusco. Not giving up on my mission to make new friends, I taught two Frenchies (Richard and Estelle) how to play Asshole on the train and finished the trip striking out with the Irish lass at Loki hostel, turns out she was 30. Solid trip, if I may say so myself.
Journal entry from Dec. 4, 2010:
I just returned from a 6 day stint, exploring the mountainous Peruvian landscape on my way to Machu Picchu. It was an exhasting trip, but it had to be done. First off, let me say that I packed waaay too much, my Kooch brothers would not be proud. So I lugged my sack to Cusco where I sat next to Meg Robinson on the plane; turns out she is a fellow Lake Forester and is the cousin of my Aunt Peggy, weird huh? I chatted with her and her husband (Steve?) and they gave me a free lift into town. After getting settled, I hit the streets where I haggled with local artisans, took way too many pictures of churches and chose a trip guide from a plethora of eager tour companys. The night was fairly uneventful, I sipped on some cold beers and watched a American football game, which made me feel right at home.
The next morning I awoke at 7am and hopped in a van that would hopefully take me to Ollantaytambo. I quickly introduced myself to the other travelers and found myself surrounded by some Germans, Canadians, Austrailians and Israelis. The driver sped up the climbing hills, making plenty of unnessasary passes, as we gauked out the window at the breath taking scenary. At one point they told everyone inside to jump out of the van and we mounted bicycles to navigate down the slippery roads. It seemed like we were in some cheezy date movie because as soon as we started pedalling, the clouds descended upon us and a mix of heavy rain and sleet set in that chilled everyone down to the bone. Knowing that I paid for the experience, I painfully withstood the cold barrage of water, attempting to smile, weaving in between the yellow lines to distract myself from mother nature's poorly timed downpour. Many of the others conceded and were picked up by the van following close behind, but after an hour or so the guide called it quits and we all piled back into the van and peeled the wet sock from our feet. Afterwards we ate a pretty crumby lunch composed of cheese sandwiches and breath mints, and allow me to say that Peruvian cheese is nothing to write home about. Of coarse, as we continued down the road the rain let up and we caught a glimpse of the natural beauty that this land holds, which got me pretty excited about our final destination. We arrived to a small hostel in the middle of nowhere, hidden beneath the daunting green mountians that surrounded us, and I befriended the group of Israelis as we watched Barcelona destroy Real Madrid in an exciting gradge match on the only TV in town.
A brief explanation of the Israelis:
Raz: a tall, confident, Israeli dude with great beard growing genes
Roy: typical Jewish mannerism (according to any Woody Allen movie), thick ginger beard, quick wits and fast hands when it comes to cards
Amet: Not afraid to say that he is one handsome Israeli with a heart of gold
Israeli Couple: Couldn't remember their names to save my life, didn't say much in English, but were always really encouraging when it came to practicing Hebrew (pretty much learned that; Ma = what and Yalla = come on, hurry up)
Best Memory: Watching Roy (the ginger) freak out at the sight of a large moth near his bed. I was like: Dude, you spent three years in the army, get it together...he was soooo sterotypically Jewish.
So the Israelis taught me their favorite card game, Yaniv, and I taught them how to play Asshole (President according to our Peruvian guide, Frank). Between all of us we played a lot of cards. The next day we set off on foot to walk along the original Inca trail, it was a day full of hiking, climbing, exploring, eating fruits from trees, juggling mangos, fondling monkeys, speaking Hebrew, applying traditional facepaint, snapping photos of deep valleys and rolling hills, laying in hammocks, crossing rivers and, finally, smoking a fatty in a natural hot spring. You know just another day at the office.
Trying to make as many friends as possible, I made an attempt to talk to the German dudes, Canadian girls, the Irish chick, but it was the Austrailian sheylas that grabbed my attention. Feeling as though I made a poor first impression, I rose early the next day to find that all of the Aussie lassies were doing a canopy tour, which I promptly joined. So there I was, flying on ziplines at around 50 mph, surrounded by gorgeous Peruvian mountain tops and 7 beautiful Aussie chicks, what a way to spend a morning. By the end of it, the conopy guides offered me a job (because of my Spanish skills and super zipline capabilities) and I got to know Jenna, Ali, Alex, Rachel, Meera and the two other less attractive girls, sorry ladies.
Afterwards, we ate lunch and started marching along the train tracks to Aguas Calientes. Along the way, we took a pause at a small rain shelter. There, our guide gave us a legitimate lecture about the Peruvian culture, traditional practices and a demonstration of the power Coca leaves. During the break I spoke to a Peruvian Rasta, named Cusco, about how to eat the Coca leaves, when all of a sudden Bob Marley (Tío Bob) started playing in the distance. Not being able to miss a perfect opportunity, Cusco and I sparked that shit up and he told me more about the lay of the land! After a couple laughs and personal thoughts we said our goodbyes and trudged down the tracks. During the trip, I chatted with Jenna and Ali about a wide variety of topics, I gotta say I was impressed with their intellect, I guess Austrailia isn't just made up of a bunch of criminals! Ha, man, I need to read more books. Finally, we arrived to Aguas Calientes, I met the Israelis once again, we prepared to wake before the break of dawn and, of coarse, played a good amount of Yaniv. By this point I was pretty low on cash and supplies, so I created the poor man's cookie sandwich by stuffing chocolate graham crackers into day old bread rolls, yum.
Anyways, the alarm screeched at 4am and I slowly crawled from my warm, cozy bed into my damp, stinky hiking gear. We briskly walked in silence through the darkness until we reached the foot of the mountain. Showtime. Raz and I hauled ass and reached the top within 40 minutes, racing the tourist buses full of lazy travelers. The numorous stairways leading up to the park entrance acts as an unofficial competition between the various hikers in Aguas Calientes, everyday the champion waits in the front of the line, smugly greeting the visitors that ate his/her dust. Additionally, the first 300 people that enter each morning are given a stamp that gives them the opportunity to hike Waynapicchu, the slightly taller mountain in the backdrop of all the Machu Picchu photos and post cards.
So, we waited in line anxiously until finally we were admitted into the park. The Incan gods favored us that day because the sky was a gloriously soft blue hue and the clouds seemed to kiss the tops of the furry, green mountains. The sun rise atop Machu Picchu beamed directly through me, into my core, and it reminded me that there is a vast amount of beauty in this world, you just need to get outside and find it for yourself. Ironically, after a couple pictures on top of the ruins, my camera died. However this turned out to be a blessing in disguise because I realized to truly appreciate the vision in front of you, you must memorize every last detail and digest the sight in silence. Throughout the day I watched too many tourist snapping enough photos to make their fingers bleed, they could never capture the essence of the vision posing with peace signs and false smiles. It's almost as if they spent their entire stay in this amazing place behind their camera lense. Well, enough preaching for me.
So I spent nearly 10 hours exploring the ruins, climbing Waynapicchu, sitting in solitude, collecting my thoughts, writing songs and ideas and, of coarse, playing with llamas. I passed the majority of the day by myself, occasionally tagging along with different tours and bumping into past acquantances. The O2 atop Machi Picchu was some of the freshes air I have come across and the effect of the rising and falling clouds was truly magical. At one point I sat in a crisp, green valley of grass surrounded by llamas, then the clouds descended and I was suddenly resting in a sea of mist and strange noises (murrr), definately one of the most surreal moments I have experienced. This may be a bit over dramatic, but I left a piece of myself on top of that mountain...literally I wipeed some of my boogers under some rocks, haha. All in all, it was a great experience that provoked some self-reflection, a healthy dose of hiking and meeting new people.
One thing that sticks out in my memory is that I saw a traditional looking Peruvian, hiking with no shoes and worn feet. He stood on top of one of the highest rocks of Waynapicchu and he played a deilghtful little melody on his wooden flute. Suddenly an security guard interupted him with an ugly shout and told him loud noises were restricted in the park. The Peruvian calmly asked 'And who restricts the sounds', the guard responded 'el gobierno de Peru', his retort 'Well I only answer to the gods above me'. He quickly stepped off the rock and shuffled down the dangerous steps, pausing every now and then to play his intrument freely. This sight gave me hope that traditional lifestyles have a chance in this cold, concrete world if the people are persistent and sincere.
I didn't feel the effect of the hiking until I began hiking down the mountain, holy moly was I stiff. Getting back to Aguas Calientes I boarded a train back towards Cusco. Not giving up on my mission to make new friends, I taught two Frenchies (Richard and Estelle) how to play Asshole on the train and finished the trip striking out with the Irish lass at Loki hostel, turns out she was 30. Solid trip, if I may say so myself.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
The Crotchety Old Man
In a bit of a rush, so lets do the damn thing.
Last weeks highlights were surfing at Punta Rokitas and going to an electric music festival in Lima called Creamfields. Note to self, do not pay over 20 dollars to watch some dude on stage press a play button and then clap his hands in encouragement to the crowd. Otherwise, got press messed up and danced until 6am.
This week, I have spent nearly every waking moment with a 71 year old named Dave Sabo. Dave graduated from MIT with a degree in chemical engineering and now he teaches part time at Northwestern, not a big deal. He tends to be extremely particular about every last detail and at times we butt heads when he asks too many questions. Every now and then I'll let him have it, but otherwise he has been a pretty good sport. We have been preforming various scientific experiments (or as the kids call it, science magic) at different Coprodeli schools in the area. The look on some of their faces has been priceless and they all lose their minds when we whip out the bubbles (BURBUJAS!!).
Right this second, I'm am in a rush to eat Thanksgiving (el dia de accion de gracia) dinner. Even though I'm in Peru doesn't mean I won't celebrate a holiday where you gorge yourself until your zipper busts...yeaaaa Emerica
Flying solo to Cusco and Machu Picchu this weekend, should be a trip.
Peace
Last weeks highlights were surfing at Punta Rokitas and going to an electric music festival in Lima called Creamfields. Note to self, do not pay over 20 dollars to watch some dude on stage press a play button and then clap his hands in encouragement to the crowd. Otherwise, got press messed up and danced until 6am.
This week, I have spent nearly every waking moment with a 71 year old named Dave Sabo. Dave graduated from MIT with a degree in chemical engineering and now he teaches part time at Northwestern, not a big deal. He tends to be extremely particular about every last detail and at times we butt heads when he asks too many questions. Every now and then I'll let him have it, but otherwise he has been a pretty good sport. We have been preforming various scientific experiments (or as the kids call it, science magic) at different Coprodeli schools in the area. The look on some of their faces has been priceless and they all lose their minds when we whip out the bubbles (BURBUJAS!!).
Right this second, I'm am in a rush to eat Thanksgiving (el dia de accion de gracia) dinner. Even though I'm in Peru doesn't mean I won't celebrate a holiday where you gorge yourself until your zipper busts...yeaaaa Emerica
Flying solo to Cusco and Machu Picchu this weekend, should be a trip.
Peace
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Just Another Week in Perú
Hey there, I'm going to keep this post short and sweet:
- Been surfing a good amount in Miraflores on the weekends, Playa Waikiki to be exact, starting to get a feel for the waves and babes
- Pieced together a lifeguard costume and went to a house party where the owners let us spray paint all over the walls, boy did I leave that place looking like a mess
- Found out that the majority of Peruvian girls like to bite your face instead of kiss, ladies...the DVW school is in session
- Just gave a man advice about how to lose some weight after I bought a handful of cookies off of him
- Fell on my face off my stakeboard (pronoucned SKA-te down here) in front of all my little orphan-buddies, got up with some rosy cheeks...how embarrassing! Still get a good laugh just thinking about it.
- Working on a blog project to connect all the local businessmen and offer them cheap opportunities in the marketplace
- Learned all the names of mis banditos: Bryan, Kevin, David, Ronald, Dahvit, Leonardo, Gabriel, Yeri, Johnny, Jefferson, José, Samuel...what a barrel of high-pitched, Latin howler monkeys they are.
- Haven't gone to the bathroom comfortably for the past 2 weeks, Montezuma's revenge made it all the way down to Perú...damn you Conquistadores
- Been surfing a good amount in Miraflores on the weekends, Playa Waikiki to be exact, starting to get a feel for the waves and babes
- Pieced together a lifeguard costume and went to a house party where the owners let us spray paint all over the walls, boy did I leave that place looking like a mess
- Found out that the majority of Peruvian girls like to bite your face instead of kiss, ladies...the DVW school is in session
- Just gave a man advice about how to lose some weight after I bought a handful of cookies off of him
- Fell on my face off my stakeboard (pronoucned SKA-te down here) in front of all my little orphan-buddies, got up with some rosy cheeks...how embarrassing! Still get a good laugh just thinking about it.
- Working on a blog project to connect all the local businessmen and offer them cheap opportunities in the marketplace
- Learned all the names of mis banditos: Bryan, Kevin, David, Ronald, Dahvit, Leonardo, Gabriel, Yeri, Johnny, Jefferson, José, Samuel...what a barrel of high-pitched, Latin howler monkeys they are.
- Haven't gone to the bathroom comfortably for the past 2 weeks, Montezuma's revenge made it all the way down to Perú...damn you Conquistadores
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Punta Hermosa: Round 1
Hey future self, whats up?
Sooooo last week I spent the majority of my time disassembling beds and cabinets and moving them into a girls orphanage that desperately needed 'em. Nevertheless, after a long week of work I felt I earned a trip to Punta Hermosa to watch the ISA Surfing World Games with some of my newly acquired surf buds, Scott, Gavin and Moritz.
After a long night in Miraflores (where we saw the best Latin AC/DC cover band of all time..."eehhh Rrrrrock and Rrrrroll" WEEEW), we slowly packed the taxi to the brim with surfboards and took off towards la Punta. We arrived in San Bartolo an hour later and fumbled our way to the hostel. The boys and I caught a whiff of that sweet-salty air, snatched our boards and booked it to the competition. First, we watched world class surfers rip 2-3 meter waves at Caballeros (a nice, phat right). Then Moritz felt the surfer's itch and launched himself into the water, heading towards Senoritas (a gnarly left, probably about 200 yards from the pros). Scott and I soon followed and were confronted with some gigantic sets. I'd say I spent about 3 hours in the water that day chasing some monstruous waves, but who knows. What I do know is that icy cold water is the perfect cure for a Peruvian hangover.
That night we decided to put on our dancing shoes and joined the rest of the surfer crowd at a local club for a free reggae concert. Being the schemer that I am, I managed to slip into the VIP section and dance with finest selections of the night. I think I told the bouncer I was the brother of a surfer in the comp, something like that. By the end of the night I found myself on my bolcony with a brown, smokey figure, sorry, can't go in to details.
The next morning we arose from the dead and surfed as early as possible, which happened to be around noon. After getting worked in the water for 2 hours straight (including one of my finest wipeouts), I called it quits and relaxed on the beach with some newly acquinted German friends: Anna and Pascal.
Finally the hour struck 7pm and we woefully dragged our surfboards towards the awaiting taxi. I'd say Punta Hermosa kicked my ass in the first round, I can't wait for round 2.
Sooooo last week I spent the majority of my time disassembling beds and cabinets and moving them into a girls orphanage that desperately needed 'em. Nevertheless, after a long week of work I felt I earned a trip to Punta Hermosa to watch the ISA Surfing World Games with some of my newly acquired surf buds, Scott, Gavin and Moritz.
After a long night in Miraflores (where we saw the best Latin AC/DC cover band of all time..."eehhh Rrrrrock and Rrrrroll" WEEEW), we slowly packed the taxi to the brim with surfboards and took off towards la Punta. We arrived in San Bartolo an hour later and fumbled our way to the hostel. The boys and I caught a whiff of that sweet-salty air, snatched our boards and booked it to the competition. First, we watched world class surfers rip 2-3 meter waves at Caballeros (a nice, phat right). Then Moritz felt the surfer's itch and launched himself into the water, heading towards Senoritas (a gnarly left, probably about 200 yards from the pros). Scott and I soon followed and were confronted with some gigantic sets. I'd say I spent about 3 hours in the water that day chasing some monstruous waves, but who knows. What I do know is that icy cold water is the perfect cure for a Peruvian hangover.
That night we decided to put on our dancing shoes and joined the rest of the surfer crowd at a local club for a free reggae concert. Being the schemer that I am, I managed to slip into the VIP section and dance with finest selections of the night. I think I told the bouncer I was the brother of a surfer in the comp, something like that. By the end of the night I found myself on my bolcony with a brown, smokey figure, sorry, can't go in to details.
The next morning we arose from the dead and surfed as early as possible, which happened to be around noon. After getting worked in the water for 2 hours straight (including one of my finest wipeouts), I called it quits and relaxed on the beach with some newly acquinted German friends: Anna and Pascal.
Finally the hour struck 7pm and we woefully dragged our surfboards towards the awaiting taxi. I'd say Punta Hermosa kicked my ass in the first round, I can't wait for round 2.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
El Padre and the Politician
Just warning you...this isn't a typical self indulgent post and it may be boring to some people.
Anyways...after a terrible nights sleep, Felix and I woke up and did some last minute maintenance on a school in Ica. We were getting ready to go when I noticed a larger than normal crowd around el Padre. I asked the person next to me what was going on and they replied that a Peruvian congressmen had made the trip to inspect the school and the project all together. I saw the Padre and the politician conversing outside of the school with a huge group of reporters and journalists recording what they say and taking pictures. It never occured to me that he was more than a preacher with good intentions, but Padre Miguel is indeed a political figure down here.
As I said before, the Peruvian politician was visiting the site to check the status of the school and the project. However, what I soon learned was that COPRODELI was urging the Peruvian government to pay the teachers so they could continue working. In fact, the teachers have already protested on three different occasions in front of the state capital. Hopefully, the government representative will be convinced that the school is legitimate and the teachers are worthy of their wages. Anyways, all of us piled into the small van and drove to Chincha to eat lunch.
So there I was, sitting with a Peruvian congressmen, his entourage and el Padre, devouring 'pollo a la brasa' and discussing what the country needs to do in order to improve. Obviously, this was all being said in spanish, so I didn't say much, but it was still interesting to be a part of the conversation. El Padre talked about how kids are being born into a terrible situation in Peru and how there are not a sufficient number of positive outlets or paths for them to follow. He gave the example of a single mother, María, that was forced to sell small trinkets on the street, while her two sons were led to live a life as petty thieves. Now María's daughter is getting older and is torn between being poor and good, or not-so-poor and bad. In lamest terms, its like Ray Leotta in the beggining of 'Goodfellas'. My understanding is that the key to turning the country around is education and helping the future children get off the street.
In other news, Coprodeli is involved in a slightly controversial situation. One of the students (or his parents) has acused one of the teachers with the charge of assault. The story is in the papers and Coprodeli is standing behind the teacher. I read one of the articles in the paper and it really blows things out of proportion, shit's ridiculous. Padre Miguel has been pretty frustrated with the situation and has been instructing the teachers what they can and cannot do to the students. I think the parents are trying to take advantage of the situation and squeeze money out of a charity organization, as bad as that sounds. Honestly, the teachers are not doing their job for the money (they are barely paid, if anything), they are doing their job to help needy kids learn basic arthimitic and grammer. It will be interesting to watch the future unfold.
Monday, October 18, 2010
A Change of Pace
This past weekend was an eye opening experience, to say the least. I traveled to the south of Peru with el Padre, Marlith and Felix to help some of the schools in the area and observe the progress of the Coprodeli rebuilding project. The charity organization I am working with, Coprodeli, is currently constructing large communities that have a church, a school and an area for entrepreneurs to practice their business. The entire encampment is surrounded by houses with running water and electricity (which, at times, is considered a delicacy down here).
When I first came to Peru, I noticed that the majority of the houses did not have rooftops. Naively, I just thought it was the norm here, but the reality is that these Peruvians endured an enormous earthquake in 2007 (and a smaller one this past year, which desimated Chile) and many of them do not have the funds to repair their houses. So this Coprodeli projoct may prove to be a vital lifeline for many of the locals.
Sooo, we ventured south to Chincha, Pisco and Ica and I witnessed some of the grave effects of the earthquake. There was rumble and debris everywhere and I saw plenty of abondoned buildings with cement windows and dilapidated walls, waiting to fall apart. We arrived at one of the sites and Padre Miguel was greeted like a celebrity. He would slowly pace around the courtyard of the school as a line of people patiently waited to ask him his opinion of the construction and the status of the project. Typically, he would give an long, inspiring lecture and then we would all eat together...the teachers, the volunteers and el Padre.
During the Padre Miguel's speeches, Felix and I would fix anything in the school that needed fixin'. We installed new desks for the teachers, touched up doors that wouldn't shut properly, fiddled with desks and chairs of the students so they could sit upright...you know, mens' work. However, Felix is a difficult person to work with.
Allow me to paint you a picture of the situation I was working with. As I have said before, Felix is a 50 year old Spanish guy who talks waaaaay to loud. He is stubborn, uncoordinated and he has a lazy eye that I can't help but stare at. I compare working with Felix to doing chores with my Dad on a Sunday...if my Dad happened to be hammered drunk all day. He screamed directions at me, when he truly doesn't have a clue what he is doing. He rushed through projects that we have all day to complete. Being pretty stubborn myself, I would discard his orders and do things my own way.
Here is a small list of examples: he broke a drill bit, he stripped plenty of screws, he drilled to large of holes in the walls so they screws would fit. One time I had to take the power drill from him because he wanted to make a hole in a wall... right above an electrical outlet. I explained that there was a chance he could get electricuted, but nonetheless, he snatched the drill and tore into the wall. Definately a frustrating experience, but after a couple mishaps, we completed all the jobs at three different sites and all the teachers thanked us thoroughly for our work.
After doing physical labor all day, you would think I could sleep like a baby, however that was not the case. I was paired up with ever-annoying Felix as a bunkmate and he continued to bother me even while he was sleeping! This guy would be resting normally for 5 minutes or so, and then without hestitation he would erupt like Mt. Vesuvius with a thundering snort. I seriously considered punching him in the face serveral times. My solution was to sleep on the couch in the common area, but still I could hear him. If I did not have my iPod I would not know what to do, it was truly my salvation for the weekend.
After this experience I came to the conclusion that once you get past the age of 40, you pretty much get worse at everything. You can't see as well as you used to, run as well, hear as well...shit you can't even breathe as well as you used to. However, one thing you DO get better at is sleeping. I watched Felix and the Padre fall asleep in the car in a matter of 30 seconds and they were both in the most uncomfortable positions I can think of. So I guess I have that to look forward to.
When I first came to Peru, I noticed that the majority of the houses did not have rooftops. Naively, I just thought it was the norm here, but the reality is that these Peruvians endured an enormous earthquake in 2007 (and a smaller one this past year, which desimated Chile) and many of them do not have the funds to repair their houses. So this Coprodeli projoct may prove to be a vital lifeline for many of the locals.
Sooo, we ventured south to Chincha, Pisco and Ica and I witnessed some of the grave effects of the earthquake. There was rumble and debris everywhere and I saw plenty of abondoned buildings with cement windows and dilapidated walls, waiting to fall apart. We arrived at one of the sites and Padre Miguel was greeted like a celebrity. He would slowly pace around the courtyard of the school as a line of people patiently waited to ask him his opinion of the construction and the status of the project. Typically, he would give an long, inspiring lecture and then we would all eat together...the teachers, the volunteers and el Padre.
During the Padre Miguel's speeches, Felix and I would fix anything in the school that needed fixin'. We installed new desks for the teachers, touched up doors that wouldn't shut properly, fiddled with desks and chairs of the students so they could sit upright...you know, mens' work. However, Felix is a difficult person to work with.
Allow me to paint you a picture of the situation I was working with. As I have said before, Felix is a 50 year old Spanish guy who talks waaaaay to loud. He is stubborn, uncoordinated and he has a lazy eye that I can't help but stare at. I compare working with Felix to doing chores with my Dad on a Sunday...if my Dad happened to be hammered drunk all day. He screamed directions at me, when he truly doesn't have a clue what he is doing. He rushed through projects that we have all day to complete. Being pretty stubborn myself, I would discard his orders and do things my own way.
Here is a small list of examples: he broke a drill bit, he stripped plenty of screws, he drilled to large of holes in the walls so they screws would fit. One time I had to take the power drill from him because he wanted to make a hole in a wall... right above an electrical outlet. I explained that there was a chance he could get electricuted, but nonetheless, he snatched the drill and tore into the wall. Definately a frustrating experience, but after a couple mishaps, we completed all the jobs at three different sites and all the teachers thanked us thoroughly for our work.
After doing physical labor all day, you would think I could sleep like a baby, however that was not the case. I was paired up with ever-annoying Felix as a bunkmate and he continued to bother me even while he was sleeping! This guy would be resting normally for 5 minutes or so, and then without hestitation he would erupt like Mt. Vesuvius with a thundering snort. I seriously considered punching him in the face serveral times. My solution was to sleep on the couch in the common area, but still I could hear him. If I did not have my iPod I would not know what to do, it was truly my salvation for the weekend.
After this experience I came to the conclusion that once you get past the age of 40, you pretty much get worse at everything. You can't see as well as you used to, run as well, hear as well...shit you can't even breathe as well as you used to. However, one thing you DO get better at is sleeping. I watched Felix and the Padre fall asleep in the car in a matter of 30 seconds and they were both in the most uncomfortable positions I can think of. So I guess I have that to look forward to.
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