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
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
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
Friday, February 29, 2008
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