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.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
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.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Guacala
Howdy folks,
This is just going to be a quick update:
- Just bought the Simpsons (los Simpsons) complete 9th and 10th seasons for around 75 cents...SO STOKED!
- Got a pretty bad cold, coughing up a storm...could be the air or the dirty water
- Pretty hard to find healthy meals in restaraunts so I just bought a mountain of fruits and veggies
- Decided to try the soup at a local market, found 5 different short hairs scattered about...guacala
- Figured out my first Rubik's cube without any help today, then brushed my shoulders off
Not the most exciting post, but plenty more to come
This is just going to be a quick update:
- Just bought the Simpsons (los Simpsons) complete 9th and 10th seasons for around 75 cents...SO STOKED!
- Got a pretty bad cold, coughing up a storm...could be the air or the dirty water
- Pretty hard to find healthy meals in restaraunts so I just bought a mountain of fruits and veggies
- Decided to try the soup at a local market, found 5 different short hairs scattered about...guacala
- Figured out my first Rubik's cube without any help today, then brushed my shoulders off
Not the most exciting post, but plenty more to come
Monday, October 11, 2010
Austrians, Germans and Canadians Oh My
When we last spoke, our adventurer had left his bag, including his wetsuit, in the back of a taxi. Now lets see how the plot thickens... (I know this is corny, but just roll with it)
I got back to always dangerous city of Callao where I planned to sleep and relax in my room, however I couldn't get a second of shut eye because the thought of my wetsuit being stolen haunted my dreams. So I stashed some cash in my pockets and I made my way back towards Miraflores. I arrived at the beach where I had been 2 hours before and began to comb the parking lot for Gordito's car. With a sigh of relief I found his crummy shit-box-of-a-car and saw that my bag was still inside, though it had numorous footprints all over it.
After that, my mood changed tremdously and, feeling energized, I figured that the only thing left to do was to celebrate. So I found the closest hostel to the beach (not wanting to repeat my sleeping situation from the night before) and made some quick friends over a couple brews. I met 3 fellow surfers in the hostel: Moritz, Gavin and Scott. Moritz (Morris) is an Austrian surfer who speaks a wide variety of languages and looks like a poster child for the Aryan race. Gavin and Scott are some Canadian players (I know, ¡¿CANADIAN PLAYERS?!, it seems pretty far-fetched, but both of them seem to be doing pretty well with the ladies down here). Scott is a big hockey fan, so I can seek refuge during the season with another enlightened soul and talk some puck. The three of them are students in Lima, have traveled the area pretty extensively and speak darn good español.
The boys and I took a break from Spanish and spoke the King's for a bit. I feel like I need to pause from Spanish every now and then in order to keep my sanity down here. So my new friends invited me to join them at a local house party where it was a fellow student's birthday. Of coarse, I obliged and we hopped in a taxi to explore the festivities. (Sometimes I feel like writing with a British flare, don't judge me)
We arrived and I was thrust into a very familiar party scene that I have seen many times before in the US. Allow me to paint you a picture; drinks were being poured, music was blasting, cups were continuously raised in the air, a bold few were dancing, a bolder few were sucking face in the corner, and the constant chatter of the party was always present. However, there was one thing that was different. Everyone was speaking SPANISH! The convival crowd seemed so surreal and familiar, yet fresh and exciting.
Anyways...I mingled through the international crowd and avoided the other Americans as best as I could (trying to keep things strictly in Spanish at this point) until I fell upon a couple of German gals. Christina and Sofia were a fun bunch and we chatted, danced and drank until 5 in the morning. At one point I left the party, but then turned around to chase Chistina a bit longer. It turns out that my hostel was a block away from her house, so we walked home together and continued to shoot the shit in Spanish. Finally we got back and she gave me a kiss on the cheek and said good night. So with my head hanging a little lower than before, I shuffled back to the hostel unsatisfied. I guess I need to work on my Spanish game.
Hasta Luego,
Derek
I got back to always dangerous city of Callao where I planned to sleep and relax in my room, however I couldn't get a second of shut eye because the thought of my wetsuit being stolen haunted my dreams. So I stashed some cash in my pockets and I made my way back towards Miraflores. I arrived at the beach where I had been 2 hours before and began to comb the parking lot for Gordito's car. With a sigh of relief I found his crummy shit-box-of-a-car and saw that my bag was still inside, though it had numorous footprints all over it.
After that, my mood changed tremdously and, feeling energized, I figured that the only thing left to do was to celebrate. So I found the closest hostel to the beach (not wanting to repeat my sleeping situation from the night before) and made some quick friends over a couple brews. I met 3 fellow surfers in the hostel: Moritz, Gavin and Scott. Moritz (Morris) is an Austrian surfer who speaks a wide variety of languages and looks like a poster child for the Aryan race. Gavin and Scott are some Canadian players (I know, ¡¿CANADIAN PLAYERS?!, it seems pretty far-fetched, but both of them seem to be doing pretty well with the ladies down here). Scott is a big hockey fan, so I can seek refuge during the season with another enlightened soul and talk some puck. The three of them are students in Lima, have traveled the area pretty extensively and speak darn good español.
The boys and I took a break from Spanish and spoke the King's for a bit. I feel like I need to pause from Spanish every now and then in order to keep my sanity down here. So my new friends invited me to join them at a local house party where it was a fellow student's birthday. Of coarse, I obliged and we hopped in a taxi to explore the festivities. (Sometimes I feel like writing with a British flare, don't judge me)
We arrived and I was thrust into a very familiar party scene that I have seen many times before in the US. Allow me to paint you a picture; drinks were being poured, music was blasting, cups were continuously raised in the air, a bold few were dancing, a bolder few were sucking face in the corner, and the constant chatter of the party was always present. However, there was one thing that was different. Everyone was speaking SPANISH! The convival crowd seemed so surreal and familiar, yet fresh and exciting.
Anyways...I mingled through the international crowd and avoided the other Americans as best as I could (trying to keep things strictly in Spanish at this point) until I fell upon a couple of German gals. Christina and Sofia were a fun bunch and we chatted, danced and drank until 5 in the morning. At one point I left the party, but then turned around to chase Chistina a bit longer. It turns out that my hostel was a block away from her house, so we walked home together and continued to shoot the shit in Spanish. Finally we got back and she gave me a kiss on the cheek and said good night. So with my head hanging a little lower than before, I shuffled back to the hostel unsatisfied. I guess I need to work on my Spanish game.
Hasta Luego,
Derek
"Bitches, Beaches and Beer"
I just returned from my first weekend trip in Peru and boy, what an adventure (I figure I'll be saying this a lot so please bare with me)! I decided to fly solo this past weekend and I caught a cab to a nearby surf town called Mirflores. I arrived and immediately headed to the beach to check the surf. It seemed like the waves were firing so I rented a board for around $8 and surfed my heart out for 4 hours straight.
Feeling pretty hungry and tired, I asked a local surfer, named Ito, where I should eat. Instead of a simple answer, he offered to show me himself. So, I paid for his lunch and Ito gave me a grand tour of Miraflores. The tour ended at his apartment where I met all of his surf buddies: Peter, Juan Carlos and Gordito Fira (which translates to Little Fat Failure, seriously thats what they call this dude). We relaxed and talked about waves in Peru. It turns out that most of these guys live in a town called Trujillo, which is very close to the one of the longest wave in the world, Chicama, talk about networking.
Around 8 or 9pm I began to hint at returning back to Callao, but they insisted that I stay. They reminded me that Callao gets more dangerous as the sun goes down, so I stayed. After that we decided to take a stroll around town and we witnessed all types of strange in the streets. We watched fire dancers, drum lines and graffiti artist put on a free show.
¿Did I mention while we were watching the entertainers I was being followed by a man who was a blatant transvestite? He was relentless. He called me "el Rojo" because of my jacket and eventually we had to run a couple blocks to escape his unmistakable gaze. After having plenty of typical conversations with these surfers, I realized that all guys express themselves in the same way when it comes to girls, waves and beer, no matter the language.
Finally we returned to the apartment to prepare for bed and a early morning surf session. Once inside, I realized that there was only 3 beds and 4 people to sleep in them. So, there I was, sleeping back to back with my new friend Ito, sneezing my ass off because of all the dust in the room. It had to be one of the worst sleeping experiences of my life (dogs howling in the apartment next to us, club music blaring, nothing to drink, sleeping next to a stranger on a twin mattress, you know, that whole thing), but WOW, what hospitality! I sat up plenty of times during the night with the thought, what the hell am I doing here, but I made it out alive and had a great surf in the morning.
I returned to Callao later that day to grab some more money, but this is what I managed to buy with 100 Soles, which equals around $35:
- 20 Minute taxi into Mirflores
- Surfboard rental for the day
- 4 "Microbus" rides
- A bit of this and that
- Small pack of cigarettes
- Rolling papers
- A bag of cheesy poofs
- Ice cream cone
- 3 meals
- 2 bottles of Coca-Cola
- Lollipop
- 20 minute taxi ride back to Callao
On my way back to Callao I suddenly realized that I left my wetsuit, my one prized possession down here, in the back of Gordito's car (Gordito happened to be a Taxi driver), which made me pretty nervous. This triggered a brand new chain of events, but that's another story.
Bye for now,
Derek
Feeling pretty hungry and tired, I asked a local surfer, named Ito, where I should eat. Instead of a simple answer, he offered to show me himself. So, I paid for his lunch and Ito gave me a grand tour of Miraflores. The tour ended at his apartment where I met all of his surf buddies: Peter, Juan Carlos and Gordito Fira (which translates to Little Fat Failure, seriously thats what they call this dude). We relaxed and talked about waves in Peru. It turns out that most of these guys live in a town called Trujillo, which is very close to the one of the longest wave in the world, Chicama, talk about networking.
Around 8 or 9pm I began to hint at returning back to Callao, but they insisted that I stay. They reminded me that Callao gets more dangerous as the sun goes down, so I stayed. After that we decided to take a stroll around town and we witnessed all types of strange in the streets. We watched fire dancers, drum lines and graffiti artist put on a free show.
¿Did I mention while we were watching the entertainers I was being followed by a man who was a blatant transvestite? He was relentless. He called me "el Rojo" because of my jacket and eventually we had to run a couple blocks to escape his unmistakable gaze. After having plenty of typical conversations with these surfers, I realized that all guys express themselves in the same way when it comes to girls, waves and beer, no matter the language.
Finally we returned to the apartment to prepare for bed and a early morning surf session. Once inside, I realized that there was only 3 beds and 4 people to sleep in them. So, there I was, sleeping back to back with my new friend Ito, sneezing my ass off because of all the dust in the room. It had to be one of the worst sleeping experiences of my life (dogs howling in the apartment next to us, club music blaring, nothing to drink, sleeping next to a stranger on a twin mattress, you know, that whole thing), but WOW, what hospitality! I sat up plenty of times during the night with the thought, what the hell am I doing here, but I made it out alive and had a great surf in the morning.
I returned to Callao later that day to grab some more money, but this is what I managed to buy with 100 Soles, which equals around $35:
- 20 Minute taxi into Mirflores
- Surfboard rental for the day
- 4 "Microbus" rides
- A bit of this and that
- Small pack of cigarettes
- Rolling papers
- A bag of cheesy poofs
- Ice cream cone
- 3 meals
- 2 bottles of Coca-Cola
- Lollipop
- 20 minute taxi ride back to Callao
On my way back to Callao I suddenly realized that I left my wetsuit, my one prized possession down here, in the back of Gordito's car (Gordito happened to be a Taxi driver), which made me pretty nervous. This triggered a brand new chain of events, but that's another story.
Bye for now,
Derek
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
A New Beggining
Helloooooooooooo nobody,
Since no one reads this blog, it is pretty much a personal journal, if anything. I guess I am writing this blog so I can scour the internet when I am older and say "Wow I used to be cool and now I am an ole sack of farts" or maybe I'll say "Man, I was such a fastuous, little prick, I wasted all my time writing about myself on the internet"; only time will tell.
The last time I wrote on this blog it was an assignment I had in college, so lets catch up a little bit. The summer after I graduated I:
- Banged my first Asian
- Won $500 in Vegas
- Visited the Grand Canyon and Moab
- Was an accomplished zamboni driver
- Lost $200 on my second trip to Vegas...dammit
- Flew back to Chicago to witness the BLACKHAWKS WIN THE STANLEY CUP, WEEW
- Got Lasik eye surgery
- Saw Lollapolooza for the 5th summer in a row...for free. Note - The highlight was definately watching Cypress Hill with my Pops, insane in the membrane...
- Was a professional couch surfer in San Diego (thanks Tony and company), still a novice when it comes to actual surfing
- Made a failed attempt at a sunglass selling scheme
- Managed to sneak into a sold out Muse concert
- Received my degree from the University of Colorado and partied like a maniac during graduation weekend
Ok, lets change the speed up a little bit.
Currently, I am in Lima, Peru working for a charity organization called Coprodeli. Our goal is to provide a sustainable living environment for the poor locals in our area. I know it is one of those do good- feel good jobs, what's it to you.
So anyway, I live above a boys orphanage and in the 3 days I have been here, the buildings adjacent to us have been robbed twice! I guess you could say I live in a rough neighborhood.
The people I work with are great and are willing to listen to me struggle with my spanish, the other day I couldn't say dollar right. That pissed me off. It seems like I am being following by an army of TVs stuck on Telemundo cranked at full blast, so what I'm saying is I tend to get a headache every night and I keep a bottle of Advil close at hand.
I live with three other roommates: Felix, Karol and Ruthie (Rutie down here in the land of silent H's). Felix is 48 and is a Spaniard. He always talks in a abrasive manner, like he wants to start a fight at all times, when in reality he just wants you to pass the milk. I think he may be intimadated or jealous from my presence, at least in front of the girls. Yesterday he was really gunning for me in the company soccer game, but I put three goals past him. I think that will shut those loud lips for a day or so.
Karol is also from Spain, she is 25 and has some Columbian curves that won't quit. When you put Felix and Karol in a room together, it is like a cock fight where they try to drown each other with their deafening words. She wants to learn more English, I'm in!
Ruthie is an American, actually, she grew up in the town next to me in Chicago and we know some of the same people, but we have never met before. Sometimes the Earth is smaller than you think. She has been here for 2 weeks or so and helps me every now and then with my Spanish, but for the most part I'd say we are equal. She has a abnormal style, I am trying to decide whether I like it or not.
Right now, we are planning a trip to Southern Peru to help some impoverished towns first hand. I'll see how it goes.
Cheers
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