Dance As If No One Is Watching

French Polynesia

2007-12-07T15:11:00.000-08:00

Long, white sandy beaches lined with palm trees and aquamarine waters graced with soft music and a wooden bar serving umbrella drinks. That's what I thought Tahiti and Moorea would be like too. I suppose they would be during the dry season and not the rainy season, which is when we oh-so-smartly planned our trip to French Polynesia.

Tahiti is not known for its big beaches (it has one white sand beach and the rest are black sand). Comprising of Tahiti Nui and Tahiti Iti, the two islands are joined together by a bridge surrounded by the one road that goes around Tahiti Nui and a road halfway around Tahiti Iti, where not even 4 wheel drive will let anyone pass. Enormous volcanic mountains rise up above the shores topped with clouds. Weather is unpredictable with the standard response of "I don't know, we will see," and can be different on each side of the island. Raining one day in Papeete, we were blessed with clear blue skies on the opposite side of Tahiti Iti, where we were lucky enough to be snorkeling and speeding around in a friend's speedboat, going close to 50mph. We spent a weekend staying with friends of friends, who then became our friends, whose backyard, literally, is the lagoon leading to the ocean. This is not a stereotypical lagoon either. Surrounded by reef, the whole island's shores are calm with waves crashing, seemingly in the middle of water, at the edge of the lagoon meeting the ocean. Surfers ride their boats out to the edge of the reef to hop on their boards. This is where I saw Paradise. Though there was no soft music in the background or a streamline of Mai Tais, this was what everyone pictures when they think of Tahiti.

Only 30 kilometers away stands Moorea, the easiest and closest island to get to. Much like Tahiti in appearance, though a bit smaller, Moorea has only one road around the whole island and it too has volcanic peaks erupting from its center. Club Med, The Sheraton and Continental all have staked their claim for their resorts on the shore. Haapiti, where we stayed, is a small town, if it can even be called that, has restaurants lining the main road and a few shops displaying the traditional black pearls of the area. Scuba diving offers amazing clarity of 20 to 30 meters. Black Tipped Sharks, Giant Triggerfish, Rainbow Fish, Red Tooth Blue Triggerfish, Moray Eels and Sting Rays all coexist and hang out with divers like we are part of the family. Yellowfins even followed us and swam as though we were actual fish. Visibility underwater lasted long enough for us to complete the dive before we were once again welcomed with rain. This isn't just rain. This is downpour. On and off for three days it poured with our warning system consisting of the before-rain-winds and a little sprinkle. The sky cascaded blues of all different shades and when the sun would come out for a few minutes, the light and dark blue contrasts in the water complemented the sky beautifully.

A return to Tahiti met us with the sweetest and kindest hospitality. Our hosts are very generous and accommodating. Family friends of Christina have met us with a warmth that touches the heart after such a long trip. We have been taken in as though we have always been family. Pending vacations to the United States for both families we are visitng, will hopefully bear reunions. The generosity of those we have met has been overwhelming. I am grateful to those around us for all they have done to give us a complete, full-circle experience in French Polynesia but also to help us wind down such a long excursion. We could not have asked for a better end to our journey.

Our Angel Carlene

2007-11-27T19:10:00.001-08:00

Forget the vibrant green hills that sandwich towering mountains (including Mt. Doom) and meet water and beautiful beaches on either side. Forget sailing with dolphins jumping out of the water to say hello and play a game of splash. Forget Hobbiton, Glow Worm Caves (larva of mouthless flies that have 30 or so strings hanging from their mouths to catch food and through bioluminescence glow), limestone caves, good beer in Urenui. Forget Lake Taupo, reminiscent of Lake Titicaca and the sunset, Rotorua with the small town vibe. Forget miles long beaches in the Bay of Plenty and the quaintness of Tairua on the water, Hotwater Beach where you can dig holes in the sand and sit in hot tub temperature water with cool waves crashing against you (make sure you go at low tide and not high tide, like we did). Forget Cathedral Cove with a limestone arch and the rollercoaster of a trail to get there, twisting up and down for a kilometer. Forget picking parks or residential streets to sleep in the car while stealing toilet paper and paper towels from information centers and public toilets. Remember Tongariro Crossing...and Our Angel Carlene.

Eighteen kilometers up and down, across five very distinct lands, it is easy to understand what Frodo and Sam went through. We started from Managatepopo and headed toward Ketetahi (the easier way we think) beginning in the arid, deserted Volcanicland (I'm giving these areas my own names) with chunks of volcanic rock sprayed around as we walked through the hot, flat abyss. Crawling over rocks, we climbed to the turn off for Mt. Doom (Mt. Nguaruhoe) and continued our crawl/climb to Red Crater, the highest point of our chosen hike. Unstable ground made our footing very strategic. Red Crater was the point where one world meets another. Volcanic Mt. Doom looming in one direction and the valley with lakes and farms in the other. From the craters, we entered Sulphur City where thermal lakes shone bright blue and green emitting hot, vaporous breezes. Clumps of snow looked over the lakes leading the way to Blue Water Lake (this one I didn't make up)with a decreased temperature enough to cause shock if a person went from one to another.

Shortly thereafter, another incline bears the view of Lake Taupo in the valley and so we entered Grasslands (I'm so creative!) where we were surrounded by yellow grasses and bushes- some just a few inches and others a few feet high. Grassland is quite large with a low grade decline leading to Ketetahi Hut (the last or first hut in which to slumber, depending on which way you climb). Below Grassland is the Riverview Forest (another one of my genius names) shaded by pine trees and the like with streams and a river flowing through it. A patted dirt walkway is refreshing to the limbs after having to make our own trail at the beginning of the hike.

Alas, I have digressed. Our Angel Carlene comes into play at the completion of the 18kilometers, of which we hiked in under 5 hours. Unbeknownst to us, no shuttles run from one car park to the other, only from neighboring towns to the different car parks. Our choices were to go back across the varied lands to our car making our day 36 kilometers long instead of 18 or to walk to the road and see if we could find a ride. The Ketetahi car park was vacant of people to ask for rides so we ventured to the main road to hitchhike.

One car went by, no luck. Another went by, still no luck. Third, fourth, fifth. Even us trying out the Can-Can only solicited honks and waves but no rides. We walked 6 kilometers before finding a small trailer with clothes on the line and an open front door. We ventured to ask if the inhabitants knew of anyone going to town, saving us what we thought was an additional 25 km walk(on flat ground) to our 18. No, they didn't, but they told us the main highway was only 2 kilometers away.

We ran with our little backpacks to try and gain some ground as we could see ( no it was not a mirage from dehydration-- we still had plenty of food and water at that point)the highway ahead. We heard another car approaching and turned around only to lose a little hope for the car appeared to be turning down another road. Alas, the car did not turn, but pulled over for us and bore Our Angel Carlene, the woman with whom I spoke, at her house not five minutes earlier. As she drove up she said, "Everybody needs a blessing, you know...and it's Sunday." Not only did she drive us back to the turn off to the car park where our rental stood, but she drove us all the way...all the extra 34 kilometers to our car. We would have had to walk an additional 40 kilometers to our car had Our Angel Carlene not picked us up. We are forever grateful and indebted to Our Angel Carlene for providing us with a blessing and taking us that extra distance.

White Cliffs Organic Brewery

2007-11-18T00:17:00.000-08:00

Like most people, at the age of 60, Mike Trigg retired from his over 20 year old engineering business and a life in South Africa, to enjoy life in New Zealand near one of his son's family and grandchildren. Five years later, Mike and his wife, Rene, share a business with their son, Ron and daughter in-law, Jill. Newely, proud owners of White Cliffs Organic Brewery, Mike and Rene gave up retirement for 70 hour weeks...and so far they love it. Not that they haven't had their share of new owner problems. Within the first month, half of their equipment broke down, including pipes that seemed to have no destination or beginning and a refrigerator and stove that called it quits in the middle of their first function.

Five months after the new purchase, Mike and Rene seem to really enjoy their new work. Additions, product increase and hopefully exports seem to be the future of New Zealand's smallest organic brewery.

Placed five kilometers from the nearest town of Urenui (I should pronounce this one in person) and 1.5 kilometers from the ocean, White Cliffs is set on four acres, mostly designated for avocado trees. A function center looks out over the farm with a small glimpse of the bright, light, blue-green water just over the hill. Young olive trees surround the actual brewery with lavender bushes aligning the car park. During the day, chickens roam the property while one lonely peacock looks for a mate.

Though a beautiful setting, brewing is definitely hard work. Sounds, temperatures, percentages, colors are all documented daily. Cleanliness is of the utmost importance. Just to handle empty bottles on bottling day requires meticulous attention to properly washing hands and spraying them with an alcohol mix. The antique machine used to bottle is at least 50 years old, according to the bottling veteran Gypsy. One-legged Gypsy has been around for the 15 years that the brewery has but is hoping to give it all up in December to teach little ones in Year Four.

Labeling and packing can only happen after the full bottles are stacked properly and have dried after being hosed down to remove the sticky beer. Packing is different depending on where the beer is going and which beer it is. Amazingly, there is a difference between 2 litre bottles and 330ml bottles. Stubbies are usually for individual consumption or restaurants, 4-packs are usually for stores and fridge packs are for in-house use. Don't follow my lead and pack 9 boxes of 4-packs as fridge packs and upon completion have to redo them all. OOOPS. Brewing day is a long one, but not really for WWOOFers. The wood fire has to be started about 5:30am! Luckily for Mike and Steve (the previous owner who has stayed on to help for six months), this provided them a break from doing small time projects around the property, like weeding. I think I aged 30 years in the few hours we weeded.

Here, they sell 2 kinds of beer: Mike's Ale and Mountain Lager. Both are absolutely fantastic! It takes about 6 days for the ale and 8-10 days for the lager to brew in primary fermentation before they are moved to secondary fermentation. The grain is imported from Germany and the hops is from the South Island. At around 20 days is when the beer may be moved to the cooler to await bottling. Brewing is probably one of the sciences that has the best reward-- a nice cold glass of beer at the end of the day. Though our stay was just a short 5 days, it was the best experience we could have asked for at White Cliffs Organic Brewery.

Sydney

2007-11-18T00:04:00.000-08:00

Awkward. Topsy-Turvy. Unpredictable. Entertaining. Surreal. Words not exactly pin-pointing my time in Sydney but hopefully creating a sense of the month spent in such a famous city. I am eternally grateful to our hosts for taking us in for such a long time. I know it is not easy to have guests for nearly a month. Unfortunately for me, I overstayed my welcome with one of our hosts within the first four days staying there...without even realizing it. Wit and sarcasm seemed a requirement for survival in the house. I had my sexual orientation, appearance, female disposition and nationality dished out to me on a silver platter. Being an American, at this time in history, is a free one. Jesting about that is a given. Unfortunately, my quick banter responses to these topics were mistaken for rude, insensitive and personal. How the above subject matter was not personal in regards to me, I do not know. Nonetheless, I somehow breached a line of formality that I believed had already been erased and thus found myself in a predicament. Luckily, I was afforded five absolutely wonderful days in Tannum Sands. My host's friends and housemates were incredible and some of the nicest and welcoming people I've ever met and indeed they did help to decrease some of the tension. I spent the rest of my time being the ultimate tourist.

I found Sydney to be quite beautiful yet understatedly homogenous with the prevalence of an Asian conglomerate. Fashion, as I have stated, is one for which I have created a new term-- milleneighties (that would be millenium, nineties and eighties)-- I think that would give an introduction to fashion. I had the opportunity to run over the Harbour Bridge, run from Bondi Beach to Coogee, surrounded by an exhibit called Sculpture by the Sea. I went to the aquarium (how fun it is to actually walk underneath where the fish and sharks swim!), Sydney Museum and I went on a harbour cruise to Wilsons Bay and Luna Park. I also made my way a bit south to Wollongong for a day at the beach. All things I would highly recommend!

Through all this, I realized I didn't fit into the box of those around me and I foolishly tried. Instead of just being me, I looked for an acceptance from my host that I will never achieve. I hope I'll learn strength in my own self and my own personality to not fall for that one again. Maybe I'll follow my own ideas of what is good for another may not be good for me.

Photos

2007-11-18T00:02:00.000-08:00

Unfortunately, I will not be posting anymore photos. I picked up two viruses trying to upload photos on another blog and possibly have lost a full memory card of photos. Sorry for the inconvenience and hope this won't deter you all from continuing to read!!

Religion

2007-11-07T16:15:00.001-08:00

Though on the surface, religion does not seem like a topic for a travel blog, it has been an underlying theme throughout my travels. Catholicism reigns in Peru where people identify with being Catholic, mostly in name. Religions/faiths in South Africa differ depending on which tribes people belong. Catholicism and non-denominational Christianity run rampant in Kenya. Southeast Asia was a paradox all on its own with Muslim Malaysia and Buddhist Thailand. Even between my travel partner and I, we represent a spectrum of religion from my Orthodox upbringing and practice to her more Buddhist lifestyle and ideas.

These travels have solidified my relativist views that faith really is an individual decision. Each religion or sect boasts of being The One or The Right Way. Even I have my own ideas on what is right...for me. I have found that more people spend time arguing on who is right and how others have to be wrong in order to validate the self. I believe it's much easier to do this than it is to focus on the self. If I spend all my time pointing fingers at others, how would I have time to work on myself and my personal goals?

A friend of mine, who does happen to be Orthodox as well, commented on how sometimes when she hears different Christian sects spout their ideals she feels a closer understanding to Jews than she does to those who are technically all under the same Christian umbrella. I have often felt the same way, separating myself as being part of a different Christianity, wanting to focus more on the self, as I was raised, rather than who is right.

From this, though, I have learned that individuals need to do what is best for them in order to find their own spirituality to lead them to live the best life they can. Who am I to say that what works for me has to work for another? It's possible, but I do not believe I'm in any position to tell another what he/she should or should not believe. I do believe education of different faiths is crucial to make the personal decision on individual spirituality.

What is interesting is that everywhere I've been, when spirituality or faith has been discussed, inevitability right religion or wrong religion is approached. Searching a little harder, I have found that those who abandon the discussion and just live their life according to what they believe, tell a much different story. Those who cannot get around the discussion tend to be more didactic in their approach. Others speak by simply just living. No matter what religion or faith to which a person belongs, I believe the best way to have an understanding of one's faith is to witness how he/she lives his/her life, whether socially acceptable or not.

Understanding another person's beliefs may not bring about agreement, but it hopefully will bring an idea that what they do is right for them just as what I do is right for me. And for me, the rest is left up to God.

Tannum Sands, Australia

2007-11-03T21:44:00.000-07:00

A six hour drive north of Brisbane bears the little town of Tannum Sands tucked across the river from Boyne Island and 20 kilometers from the industrial mecca of Gladstone (pronounced to us foreigners as if there was no 'e' on the end). Gladstone, known for the largest aluminium (yes, I intentionally added the extra 'i' as is necessary here and in other countries colonized by the English)
factory, has the largest industrial port dealing in business with China. Though to locals the 20 kilometers can seem quite far, the hike is worth it to reach quaint Tannum Sands. If ever there was a classic beach town, it would be Tannum Sands. Mostly residential, there is a central shopping center with the essentials: a chemist, supermarket, pub, drive-thru liquor store and of course, the most essential of all, a KFC. All of this is within a 10 minute walking distance to the beach. A small park overlooks the beach with the sounds of waves hitting the ears before ever reaching the cliff. Though the beach width is not as enormous as those found in the U.S. of A., it is enough that one can stay sprawled out without being reached by the huge tides (known officially around here as King Tides- though we haven't experienced those peraonlly at all), but still feel the intimacy of it nearly being a private beach. The water falls a short second place in warmth to what I experienced in Costa Rica, but compared to the water at Bondi Beach in Sydney, it's a hot tub.
This, of course, makes it enticing for kite surfers to come out after a hard days work and enjoy some evening runs.

For me, Tannum Sands wasn't just about the beach, but also the incredible hospitality and how warmly I was received by my friends, Josh and Steph. Having not seen them since before their wedding, nearly three years ago, I had no idea what to expect. They took me in as if I'd been their neighbor this whole time. They took me to Agnes Waters and 1770 to walk around and play at the beach, even though it was Steph's birthday. They told me to treat their home (and Steph's parents' house as well) as my home and would not even let me buy my own food.
I nearly had to fight them to pay for one dinner just to say a small thank you. Even the Lio family dog, Minka (unfortunately, my camera isn't working so I can't put up my picture of Minka), took me in and would try to sneak into my room to keep me company at night. I'm not sure if it was because she thought I was lonely or if she was the one who needed attention. =0)
I was even offered a car to drive an hour away at the possiblity of scuba diving in the most southern part of the Great Barrier Reef. Unfortunately, because of those King Tide thingies, I was not able to go, but the offer from Josh and Steph was too kind. Though Josh and I went to secondary together, our connection since then, has been through the friendship of our older siblings. It is a connection I hope to maintain and keep no matter where I or Josh and Steph end up. I could not have asked for a better five day holiday from my five and a half month holiday.

Writer's Block

2007-10-23T23:33:00.000-07:00

From what I understand about many writers, they can just sit at a computer all day and write about this or that. Some days, they can write more than others. And occasionally, they may suffer from writer's block, for who knows how long, and then bounce back and continue on. I am quite the opposite. I am most often in a state of writer's block and randomly, thoughts and extrapolations hit me and I write. Unfortunately...well, it's unfortunate for me, I'm not sure how unfortunate it is for you all, I have not recently been hit with many thoughts or extrapolations pertinent to my travel blog and thus the reason why there has been an absence and dwindling presence of blogs. I am taking a few days to travel north of Sydney to Tannum Sands and am hoping more ideas might come along. Other than that, I can say that the fashion sense in Sydney has left me completely stumped and I believe I am making Confusion, no not Confucian, my middle name, since I don't have one. Bicycles are ridden on sidewalks so forget needing to look down for dog poop, like in Argentina...most constantly turn their heads around and then dodge just in time not be taken out by none other than a bike wheel. I definitely understand, though, why people love Sydney and want to come back. I'll wait for another time to touch on Aboriginal treatment. Although, I will say that I see why Capetown reminds people of Sydney and Sydney reminds others of Capetown. Hopefully, in the future, I'll have more random thoughts about that one. Please stay tuned for more because I'm hoping a little getaway will be just the thing to bring some more ideas!

Thailand

2007-10-15T01:49:00.000-07:00

Resembling the landscape of Northern Malaysia, Northern Thailand is covered with rice paddies, rolling hills, dense green vegetation and small rivers squiggling all over. Daily mid-afternoon rains are expected and are fit into the days schedule. While there are various cities along the way to the northern border, smaller villages are tucked a bit from the main highway.
Small markets, whether wet, dry or souvenir, randomly appear on the side of the highways. Live frogs bagged to suffocate and be purchased by hungry shoppers line the markets. There are crickets, worms, even eels all waiting to be consumed. A courageous group of foreigners decided to try fried grasshoppers and worms.
Just a bit cruchy to start and not too much of a tickle down the throat, grasshoppers don't taste the best...I would suggest having some water or maybe some beer available to help it go down. Unfortunately for us, we didn't have the latter so we were stuck with a grasshopper after taste. Silk worms aren't as bad, but still a bit crunchy.
Half the battle is the knowledge of what is being eaten. Then it's just a snack.

Historical sites from Sukothai to markets in Chiang Mai, there is a dichotomy of life...the quiet life or the loud one. The quiet life is lead by temples and small hostels squeezed into the tropical trees. Some temples are enhanced by Buddhas with a Greek sense, influenced by Alexander.
Others are plated in bright shades of glass adorned with different Buddhas, dragons and paintings depicting Heaven and Hell. Bike rides around the villages divulge hard workers farming, sewing, teaching. Usually yellow will be worn on a Monday to commemorate the King since he was born on a Monday and the color for Monday is indeed yellow. (For those interested the colors are as follows: Monday-yellow, Tuesday-pink, Wednesday-green, Thursday-orange [I was born on Thursday and have had the hardest time finding a pleasant orange that does not make me stick out even more!] Friday-blue, Saturday-purple and Sunday-red).
Tiger Woods, for instance will wear Red on Sundays in golf tournaments since it was the day he was born. Simplicity is a traditional Buddhist teaching and the quiet life speaks to such an idea.

Cities like Lampang or Chiang Mai speak more to the loud life. Night markets line the streets, bars play loud music to entice the tourists, songtaew drivers rush around trying to avoid traffic. Up a windy hill sits one of the largest temples, Wat Phrathat Doi Suthep Rajvoravihara (please don't ask for me to indicate how to pronounce this...I have no idea), where sometimes the monks can be heard chanting. Unfortunately, we weren't able to witness this, but we were able to snap photos of our own Buddhas.
In the same way that each day represents a different color, each day has its own specific Buddha. Monday-standing with right arm raised, Tuesday- laying on right side, Wednesday- standing holding an alms bowl, Thursday- meditating, Friday- standing with hands crossed toward the body, Saturday- meditating with serpents and Sunday- standing arms down. (Check out http://baanjochim.wordpress.com/2007/06/24/the-seven-days-of-thai-buddhism to get more information on the significance of each position). The tranquility is left on the hill overlooking the whole city while the hustle and bustle continues down below.

A classic way to end such a journey before returning back South is an overnight train. Some overnight trains consist of disco balls and an all night party of dancing. Lucky for us, we missed that one.
Instead our seats are made into small, short beds, lights stay on all night only partially shaded with a curtain and loud knocking noises meet the ears when the doors don't properly close. Tossing and turning won't do much until the last and final attempt to fall asleep bears the fruit of the staff waking everyone as it is almost time to disembark.

The return to Bangkok can either be relaxing or overwhelming. Bangkok is a city where there is a never ending list of things to do and places to go. Temples line the streets- the most popular being Wat Pho with the largest reclining Buddha (for those who were born on a Tuesday).
The Grand Palace is quite a site with the shockingly tiny Emerald Buddha. Snake temples are not far. Gardens are scattered around the city as are markets crowded with bartering tourists. (What a shock it will be to go to a store in Australia and not be able to barter). The Jatachuk market is one of the largest markets I have ever witnessed in my life.
There are around 8,000 stalls with different categories of every item imagined. Thai boxing is a popular event, when it's open. On the relaxing end, Thai massages are an amazing experience, canal tours provide a nice view of the city and a nice tuk tuk ride can take anyone anywhere.

From one end to another, it is difficult to move every 2 days or so, but the amount crammed into three weeks has been worth it.
Extra fees can throw a wrench into plans but overall, there are too many events to list that I would not have witnessed had I not done this tour. Every place we've been from Singapore up to Chiang Mai has been completely different and yet these places are so close to each other. I wanted a sense of the cultures and I certainly have reached my goal.

Elephant Conservation Center

2007-10-13T00:56:00.000-07:00

Housing about 86 elephants, the Elephant Conservation Center encompasses a bathing area, a special camp for the retired Royal Elephants, a training area and plenty of hilly, plush, green land for the elephants to roam, if they are allowed. Mostly trained for logging, these elephants can pull, lift, push and even walk on logs. Some are trained to paint or even play the xylophone. Absolutely amazing.
Now that logging is illegal in Thailand and they are no longer used to fight in war, not very many people want much to do with elephants. Though sometimes they are still used for the illegal logging, elephants are also used as tourist attractions in the cities. Pay a small fee to have an elephant ride around the city to enjoy the views without seeing the behind closed doors treatment...a little stab here, a little poke there, not enough food or water.
How bout a jab with a spike? Luckily, education is working and more people are sending elephants to the Conservation Center. While we don't see what happens when tourists aren't around, it is much better treatment than if the elephants were left to their owners.

Traditionally, each elephant born for work or any sort of training will have one Mahout, a trainer, for the duration of his/her life. Elephants can outlive humans so usually being a Mahout is a family business. In the illegal practices of logging or tourism in the city, Mahouts change all the time throwing off the elephants.
The bond between the animal and the Mahout is one of complete trust. Watching one of the Mahouts try and get his elephant in the water for a bath was like watching a mom and her three year old fight over a bath. The elephant eventually got in the water, but the care the Mahout took in doing so is noteworthy.

If one of the elephants happens to become ill, the first ever elephant hospital is just nearby. The hospital was started in 1993 after a series of reports of elephants having their feet or legs blown off, from the landmines scattered at the Thailand-Burma border. Before this hospital, the elephants would have been left in the wild to die.
Now, owners can bring their elephants to the hospital for rehabilitation. Once the animal is better, the owner has the choice to take the elephant back or leave it at the hospital. If the owner decides not to take the animal back, it will stay at the Conservation Center or the hospital.

Mohtala was the first elephant patient at the Conservation Center. She lost her foot and part of her leg to a landmine. She would have been left in the wild. Instead, she was brought to the hospital where 30 veterinarians operated on her. They gave her enough anesthesia for to knock out 70 humans.
Her surgery was successful and because of her technology is being improved to create prosthetic limbs for elephants. Now Mohtala is in her 40s and still going strong. In addition to Mohtala, there was a baby elephant, who was a little over a year old. She stepped on a landmine at 7 months.
Her mother and she have been brought to the hospital, not only for rehabilitation but also for proper weaning. Elephants are not just brought there for surgery. Depression, pregnancy (there was a 3 week old baby there too), Anemia and other ailments are also prevalent.

Given that animal rights are vastly different around the world, it is comforting to know that there are people working hard to cause social change and attitudes one elephant at a time.

Ko Samui- Giant's Fishbowl

2007-10-05T02:57:00.000-07:00

We have encountered many forms of transportation including a ferry out to Ko Samui. I see why some may call it Paradise. Though we arrived at the beginning of rainy season, it is no cause for a detterent to enjoy the island and beaches galour. Snorkeling, sailing and sun-tanning are all traditional highlights to the resorts. Massages, dancing and drinking all provide afternoon and evening entertainment. Afternoon rains rarely put a damper on plans, unless you are caught in the downpour or the electrity goes out for an undetermined amount of time. Beaches are subject to the stereotypical illustration of an earthly paradise- white sandy beaches, pale blue or light green water with dark areas marking underwater rocks. Palm trees lining the beaches create a picturesque Corona commercial. Islands big and small, within view, tease visitors with all sort of possible adventures.

We chose our adventure as diving off the coast of Koh Tao- a medium sized island by land but one or two streets long as a town. Setting off to two sites, Mango Bay and Japanese Garden, we dove for 2 hours. To be sure to have a successful dive, it is important to have enough weight on the weight belt- this way the probability of shooting up to the surface is lowered- unless you're me. Once my weight was fixed, the dive went beautifully.

Diving, to me, is like being in a giant's fishbowl. I was waiting for some young giant's chubby finger to tap or bang on the glass, to get my attention. Coral, rock, fish, mussels, clam- all look much bigger, yet somehow I till knew I didn't fit in.
A school of hundreds of Fusiliers congregated near where we were. I positioned myself underneath them and the specs of light shining through magnificently lit up the fish. A giant clam peacefully sat looking large enough to fit at least my head in it's mouth. Our second dive fashioned a narrow and low ceilinged swim through. It is pertinent to make sure not to hit any coral so as not to destroy it.
Swimming in the open is a difficult feat enough not to slam into the coral, but when there's a narrow way to swim it becomes much harder. Don't worry- I think my fin hit the wall once.

Fish swim around you like you're just another part of their world. Fish eggs float like mini jellyfish preparing to hatch. Triggerfish are kept at a distance as to not aggravate them. Sea cucumber small and large slump to a side on the ocean floor while Bannerfish bottom feed looking for some nice snacks. Sea anemones flinch to a soft touch and small mussels close with the snap of fingers.

Though changed by human interference, the colors are never-ending. A soon as you think you've seen all the colors, a new fish comes by challening the previous thought. These aren't just the standard rainbow colors of a prism taught to children.
Various shades of all colors imaginable and thensome paint the marine life. To take a few colors above the water would do grievous damage to any fashion sense, yet all the colors together underwater miraculouly match.
They match in such a manner that it is just understood that these organisms were intentionally placed together.

Though tired and quite hungry after a dive, the reward is a cooled beverage on the beach, listening to the waves, watching the few lights scattered on the horizon, firelit lanterns floating by in the sky and of course, the quick on-set of a migraine.
Just as disruptive the word migraine is to this description is how disruptive it felt. Luckily, it didn't take away from my experience as a whole. Ko Samui is definitely a worthwhile getaway. I would add it to the list.

10 Things I Love About Singapore!!

2007-10-05T02:39:00.000-07:00

10) People actually drive in the designated lanes.
9) Drivers use turn signals and follow the speed limit.
8) Gum is banned.
7) Rubbish bins are on the street.
6) All establishments have air conditioning.
5) I can drink the tap water.
4) Arabtown. (I miss Middle Eastern food!!)
3) Hotels have hair dryers.
2) Food
1) COFFEE BEAN AND TEA LEAF IS HERE!!! You can't even find it all over the US!

THE END

Malay Hideaway

2007-09-30T01:59:00.000-07:00

Twenty kilometers outside of Kuala Kangsar in the Malaysian state of Perak, lies a trickle of man-made islands on a man-made lake, Tasik Cenderoh. Nestled among the dense, plush greenery is SukaSuka Lake Retreat, run by a family of 3- the youngest to stand about 3 feet tall and greet everyone individually with a "Welcome to my house." The calm and serenity hit most during the 10 minute boat ride from the mainland, when it's apparent that the hustle and bustle of the city is long gone.
Any stress or continuous plaguing thoughts slowly drift away leaving only the peace that envelopes everyone. It's possible to fight the calm, but the fight won't last long.

One room bungalows scatter the shore with open air community areas for continued
relaxation. Benches facing different directions of the lake provide various and spectacular views. One lonely hammock sags between two trees challenging whomever to not hit the ground upon sitting.
Silence is coupled with crickets in the distance until broken by the gecko's call to indicate truth telling among the visitors. Few sit within the same vicinity but none feels obligated to speak- just feel.

Not far from SukaSuka is Batu Ring, a small village of 250- home to a nameless waterfall about 10 meters high. The winding trail hops, skips and jumps back and forth across the river.
Slippery rocks become obstacles overcome either by dropping into the river, feet consumed by the water or by perfecting enough balance to get across with the lightest step. The small climb up the rocks to the waterfall pool is quite worth it. The water bubbles matching the sound of the water hitting the pool.
The cool water envelopes the body with only a slight gasp of air before comfortability sets in. Diving off the rocks just next to the fall provides some entertainment. Standing under the fall is like nothing else- to have the pure weight bearing down crashing into the current of the river creates a sense of purity. Purity met by leeches is an unforeseen paradox to the whole experience.

There's nothing like a traditional home cooked Malaysian meal to follow the leech infested hike to the waterfall. Both men and women clad in sarongs follow their host to their seats on the floor in the dining area. Sitting cross legged is the more traditional way to sit. Only the right hand is used to scoop the various dishes onto the padded down rice.
The right of refusal is permitted only when a guest succeeds in finishing their plate before their designated host does. Without this, a guest cannot refuse more rice or food. Conversation is the best indicator of a successful dinner while lack thereof is seen as a near disaster. Great conversation is had by all until it is time to retreat to separate bungalows. A good night sleep is possible though comfortability is challenged by mosquito nets and the foreign sounds all around.

Americanization

2007-09-21T05:20:00.000-07:00

To walk out the front gate is a different adventure each day. Some days, people could care less that I exist and others, it's as if the whole world or time stops as I pass. Men drilling stop to take a look; women in the middle of their morning gossip pause to gawk. Children repeat the only phrase they know, "How are you?"-some without full comprehension of what they're saying and others too shy to respond when the question is returned. For the children, it becomes a game, or a dare. how many points does one get for asking the question? for touching the mzungu's hand? or getting a wave? Children run up to stroke my arm, grab my hand, or just to get a closer look. Some volunteers have even had their arms licked because we might taste differently or our skin might taste like ice cream. I have even had one girl jump away from my out-stretched hand afraid to be touched by the white.

Past the children, adults murmur mzungu, make cat calls or just plain ask me to walk over to their stand to buy their merchandise. Some laugh or nervously giggle. Not one day goes by that I am not asked for money, whether by adults or children. For this, I thank missionaries. Some groups that come, flash their money, bunches of gifts and leave after they've "helped" some poor people. When problems continue, and band-aid methods wear off, who is left to help? Put this idea together with the
televangelists who litter television channels with the idea that god wants you to be rich, have a big house and multiple cars. Add the half-naked women on the television screen and a stereotype emerges. Ideas of belief will grant you all these things juxtaposed with the provocative dancing make quite a negative impression of Americans. No wonder there is such a poor image of Americans! It makes sense, then, why I've heard speeches of, "We need money, and if we wait god will provide, and white volunteers will give us money."

How easy it is for Americans to be blamed for so much? Japanese officials are concerned over American influence on their constituents because of an average weight gain. Yet, when they've instituted classes run by Taebo Master, Billy Banks, there is no mention of him being an American and the influence of exercise. CNN reports on English banks having problems with lending money and how the average debt in England has increased because US lenders told them to lend more with lower interest rates. Interesting.

One might think that if the US president were to speak, it would put everything into perspective and restore a sense of rationality outside of the US. Unfortunately, we can't even put any hope in that. Bushisms are the best resource and indicator of why this is true. If countries get fatter its the US, if there is a bomb, it's the US, if there is poverty, it's the US. White Man's Burden comes to mind- born into privilege by the color of my skin, I belong to the group responsible for all the problems in the world and therefore need to fix them. Maybe, for some of us as individuals, we can try and do some damage control, but unfortunately, that is one struggle I'm not sure I want to continue fighting. People won't change their minds unless they want to- I'll stick with being seen as only worth money and focus on my own guilt for not being able to do more.

Lions and Zebras and Gazelles, oh my!

2007-09-10T07:31:00.000-07:00

Eight hundred and twenty-five square miles of land, Masaimara is one of the best places to take a safari because there are roads all over the property to allow close viewing of the animals. Masaimara stretches all the way across the southern part of Kenya meeting the Serengeti in Tanzania. In Tanzania, there is only one road around the whole area so travelers look from afar at the animals. Luckily for us, we went during the wildabeest migration.
This can only be seen from August until September when the wildabeests migrate from Kenya to Tanzania trekking around 250 kilometers. They have to cross the Mara River and take on the crocodiles and intense currents. The river itself is not very wide, but it has caused quite some harm to the migration (not enough to hurt the actual population of wildabeests).
Such amazing creatures they are that they run and migrate in single file. Truly amazing to watch as well as the mingling with zebras, buffalos, impalas and gazelles.

Our first day, we drove the six hours to Masaimara and went on a dusk excursion for 3 hours. What luck that on our first night, we saw 4 out of 5 of the Big 5. The Big Five are the five animals that were considered to be the most desired to hunt. They are the lion, buffalo, elephant, leopard and rhino. We saw all but the rhino. In all of Masaimara, there are only 32 rhinos and there are the rarest of them all, the black rhino.
Leopards and elephants are also considered to be rare. We saw lots of elephants and had them near our campsite since we heard them one morning. Leopards are extremely rare and are different from cheetahs in their shorter tail length, facial markings and inclination to climb trees. Cheetahs have longer tails to aid in their running speed. Leopards usually hunt and live by themselves while cheetahs can be found either alone or in groups of two or three.
Buffalos are one of the only animals were the females have horns as well as the males. The Grand Gazelle, Thompson Gazelle and wildabeests are also known for the females having horns. Gazelles are divided up into family clans and bachelor clans. Bachelors are all the males that have to fight to get into a family clan. (I know it looks like I superimposed my face onto this picture of the lion, but I swear I didn't. The family clan has one male and many females. The male watches over all the females and will be fought by a male from the bachelor clan in order to take over. Impalas are smaller versions of the gazelles and the females do not have horns. The male ostriches are marked by black feathers and an orange beak, while the females have gray feathers and a gray beak.
In all we saw ostriches, warthogs, zebras, giraffes, lions, elephants, a cheetah, a leopard, buffalos, wildabeests, hippos, crocodiles, guinea fowls, a hyena, monkeys, baboons, impalas, gazelles, buzzards and vulchers. I think that's everything with the exception of some other birds and little critters.

We almost witnessed the wildabeests actually crossing the river except they became spooked when a bird flew by right as they were about to cross. Instead, I was able to get great footage of the wildabeests running, hundreds of them, in single file, the following day.
Unfortunately, I cannot upload videos to my blog at this point. What was interesting was a lion was hunting the wildabeests while they were running. They halted immediately upon four safari cars stopping. The wildabeests stopped causing the lion to stop. Interesting how they tell us that man hasn't affected life in the Reserve. Eventually, the two lionesses crouched down while the wildabeests took a different route and ran right in front of our car. We also had the luxury of seeing an actual lion pride. The striking male, the female and their three, 5 week old cubs. It was absolutely beautiful. The mingling of the animals is also very touching and completely natural.

On our second day, we are driven about 100 kilometers to the Tanzania border where they actually briefly drive us over the border and allow us to take pictures. To go farther than that into the Serengeti requires permission and official entrance.

Although we were grateful to see the animals so closely (at times it seemed we were about 10 feet from lions or zebras) it is quite alarming to see the impact of humans. A lioness walked right passed all our cars and was not even fazed by us. The leopard we saw did the same thing. Trust me, those are hippos behind me. Wildabeests and impalas seemed more alarmed by us and would curb their route or journey until we were no longer a threat. Male lions slept within 15 feet of our motor running and barely looked up to see the noise. Because of the emissions tests or lack thereof, trucks emit such pollution right in the vicinity of the animals.
At one point, the exhaust pipe of the other van that held the rest of our group blew off and puffs of smoke and exhaust pumped into the air, not far from some zebras. By the end of our tour, I felt quite uncomfortable and decided it was time to move on. One of our last sightings was the lion pride and the trucks kept going around and around in circles of the bushes trying to get the best shot.
The family continued to move, of course to protect their cubs, as the cars followed them. It was amazing to see them but after we continued moving and following them, I felt it was time to move on. On a different note, hunting and poaching are illegal in Kenya and those found committing the act are put to death.

All in all, this has been an extraordinary experience for me. I learned an abundance and we were fortunate to have an amazing guide, Douglas. He did an excellent job getting us the closest he could without crossing the limit on how close we could get. I had to continue reminding myself that these animals were wild and actually had to hunt for their food or walk miles to get to water. We did see some carcasses but I will spare you all of those stories (though I do have some pictures if anyone would like to see them). Just like most everything we've done, I would definitely recommend going on a safari, especially in Masaimara. There's nothing like watching hot air balloons rise over the sunrise with the peaceful picture of zebras, wildabeest, elephants and impalas all convening in the same area.

From Bees to Baboons

2007-09-10T06:51:00.000-07:00

On Thursday, Christina and I worked in Gataka helping Tabitha and Moses. Finding our way back during our 45 minute walk, a ruckus occurred with various people making a detour from the main road. Not speaking Swahili, Tabitha informed us that there were bees in the road and people were walking around or waiting for them to disperse in order to continue down the road. Even trucks were avoiding the bees. Not really understanding the severity of the situation, Christina reminded me that if you don't move, bees won't hurt you. Boy, weren't we naive.

We made a deal with Tabitha and Moses. We would walk down the road and when we made it through, we would wave them on. We embarked on our adventure and oh an adventure it became. As we walked, we talked, and then I said we should be quiet because I believed I heard the buzzing. Immediately after I spoke, we were taken over by the bees. They swarmed all around us. They were all over us. I had them in my hair (at least 5 or 6 were literally stuck in my hair), down my shirt,
all over my arms. We continued to walk until one stung me on my arm and then another on my neck. I could have sworn Christina yelled run (it turns out she didn't and I don't know who did but I took their advice) so I ran. I started waving my arms around like a madwoman screaming and yelling for people to get out of the way because of the bees. Christina didn't wait long before she followed. We ran as hard as we could trying to flick the bees off us while onlookers remarked about the two crazy white girls running down the street.

Luckily for us, a group of men told us to grab our long sleeve shirts and whip it around us to get the bees off. We were the smart ones who didn't put the shirts on before we started our journey. Then some men yelled for us to lay flat on the ground. We immediately dropped, covering our faces as the bees continued to crawl and sting.
The men covered us completely and not knowing what their intent was, other than to help us, I kept yelling that they trapped the bees with us and what good would that do? Within seconds, the men had made fires all around us and one by one the bees left or died from the smoke. At one point, Christina was almost burned by the fire because they put it too close to her head but they quickly removed it and kept it within a safe distance to harm the bees.

Eventually, the men allowed us to get up and with some laughter we continued our walk. Picking off the few last bees out of our clothes and pulling out the stingers, we were joined by Tabitha and Moses who took the safe route and ran the detour. Overall, I made it through with only 4 stings (it turned out that they did get me on my legs, which at first we thought was untrue) but unfortunately, for Christina, she had 17 all over her arms and back.

Fast forward to Saturday when we were in Masaimara. After a long but successful day on a safari, we made it back to our camp and were anxiously awaiting our chance for dinner. Another volunteer, Skye, and I were walking from our tent up to the dining area and noticed three baboons fighting. We stopped to watch and in an instant, the three stopped and turned on us. Sacha, another volunteer, came out of his tent to see what was going on. I told him not to worry and that the baboons wouldn't get in his shoes (no idea why, but it was a fear of his) and as I said this, the three baboons started coming for Skye and me. They didn't stop either. They ran us all the way to an open area and one of them broke off and went for Sacha. He yelled, "Puss puss!" (not sure why either but it worked) and the baboon left him alone. Skye and I made it safely to dinner but from then on we were on guard everytime we made our way to our tent.

Moral of the story: Don't go through a swarm of angry bees especially when strong Kenyan men run the other way and don't come across baboons who had just been fed bread from some extremely smart foreigners, who don't know any better.

Ongata Rongai, Kenya

2007-09-10T00:36:00.000-07:00

Twenty-five kilometers outside of Nairobi, stands the slum of Ongata Rongai, housing 45,000 people in a small area (one of which I do not know the exact dimensions). The main road is paved while off chutes are made of dirt, garbage and sewage. Small markets align the main dirt road to our work and home. Most of the items sold are second hand but every once in awhile newly packaged shoes or hats are sold as well. Coal is commonly sold and coal markets are found about every 30-40 meters.
In most cases, you can take a group of people out of Rongai and place them in the middle of New York City, and no one would ever think they came from a Kenyan slum. Donkeys, dogs and sometimes goats are found picking through the rubbish piles...these piles are our landmarks to identify the correct route home. Rongai is considered to be one of the safest areas during the day because as long as their is a crowd, no one will mug you. If someone attempts or does mug another in a crowd, most likely they will be killed by the crowd.

We live on a compound. Our host mum runs The Center, where we work and our host dad works at Nairobi airport. They have five children, two of which live on the compound. One with his wife, two year old son and house girl and the other still at university, has his own private room.
There are two adopted sisters who live in another part of the compound. In another week, a new couple of volunteers will arrive and will also be living with us. It is quite a busy house but a fun one.

As can be imagined, the culture here is quite different. The mother in the family runs the house and everything to do with it, while the father works to support the family. Any laundry, any financial issues, any cooking or questions concerning the house must go through the mum. Fathers work many hours and are hardly around. This is the case for our host dad and his married son. They both work at the airport and are almost never home. Public humiliation is common and considered appropriate. On the news, we saw a man who tried to steal a tire beaten, stripped and mocked by a crowd for committing his crime.
He was left to waddle around the city streets of Nairobi, naked to escape the following crowd that was laughing and jeering. Another man found his wife committing adultery. He locked the two in his house, went and grabbed a few of his friends, returned with the crowd and after pulling the other man out of his house, he caned him until his face was unrecognizable with blood. As our host family watched these two segments on the news, they laughed and mocked both men for their crimes. Another volunteer here witnessed something like this live and said it was one of the most horrific events she's ever seen. What she saw happened to a woman. This laughter isn't even a giggle, it is uncontrollable laughter while tears stream down their face because they are laughing so hard.

Poverty is a whole different idea. Moi was a dictator for 24 years here in Kenya and let the economy fall apart. Those who opposed Moi were found and killed, according to some. In the last four years, the new administration has worked very hard to restore the economy and safety of Nairobi. Things have changed considerably. Mawi Kibaki is the current president and with pending elections in December, most people I've spoken with are hoping he will stay in power.
Primary school is now free (with the exception of fees for uniforms, exams and books) and there is hope that one day soon secondary school will be free as well. Right now tuition for secondary school, high school, is about $400USD a year, per student. While safety is still a concern, most Kenyans feel safer walking around Nairobi now than they did four years ago.

The Center, which is run by our host mum, consists of a feeding program, three classes and a VCT (Voluntary Counseling and Treatment) center. It is an amazing center and it is run extremely well. VCTs are set up by the government for citizens to be tested for HIV. Most charge a fee to be tested but the VCT at The Center does not charge.
There is an abundance of stigmatization that occurs with a person being tested so it is difficult to convince some women to be tested. More women than men usually get tested. There are cases of women owning shops and now that they are positive, people refuse to go to their shops. It is hard for women to get help and therefore through The Center, our host mum has also set up support groups for women, youth and older women.

The classes offered are for children who either are positive or their parent or guardian is positive. The children are aged 5-10, I believe. There are around 45 children in the classes. The feeding program is for these children and others that go to school in the area but do not have access to food.
On a slow day, 90 children will be fed and on a busy day around 174. There are three teachers, a cook, a woman for the VCT, our host mum and her daughter in-law who all work at The Center. Everyone but the teachers are volunteers. The teachers are paid whenever there is enough money to pay them.

Under The Center's name is a new school that just started about three months ago in a nearby slum, Gataka. There are two people who work there. One teaches and the other helps and cooks lunch for the children. There are over 40 children between the ages of 2 and 8.
Because of lack of resources the teaching is very informal. Most of the children's families cannot afford food so the meal they get at school is usually the only one they get each day. These children are also very affected by HIV.

Upon our arrival, our goal was to work in the HIV/AIDS program. Because The Center and Gataka are set up so well and run efficiently on their own, there is no work for us. Instead, they need money. Because we do not have a lot of money, we wanted to donate our time but since that is not an available option, we have struggled with what to do here.
We have been reduced to dollar signs which is quite discouraging. Though we have been approached in a more passive manner, there is nothing consistent about each day here for us, and we have been told that we need to see the culture here. We stigmatize those who are positive because of the color of our skin. We symbolize money and are approached quite often by those on the street to give money and buy things or else they will go hungry.

Through the degradation we have decided to start a small library at Gataka and The Center. We are collecting books from other volunteers here and building bookshelves. There are some childrens books already here and we plan on finding a second hand bookshop in Nairobi to purchase a few more. We are hoping to have books not only for the children but also for their guardians. Even though our time is not really desired at this point, we at least have found a focus for the time being. Coupling the library idea and small trips, our last two weeks here should be quite nice.

Robben Island

2007-08-30T11:12:00.001-07:00

I've been asked and have asked others the question of would you rather lose your sight or your hearing? More often than not, most say they would rather lose their hearing but not their sight.
After visiting Robben Island, I wonder if it would be better to be colorblind. Please don't think this is an injustice or a mockery of those who are colorblind. I am merely looking at racial lines that are crossed way too often, presently, recently and throughout history. I pose the question: would all this be going on if everyone were colorblind? Would discrimination occur in another form? I would recommend reading The Giver because it touches upon this topic.

This is not what I want my focus to be rather just some concepts to think about. Robben Island was another experience that tore my heart apart. Robben Island is 12 kilometers in circumference and about 2km by 4 km. There is a primary school still used with the original medical facility and two different churches in use. It was first used by the Dutch as a pantry for extra food.
Eventually, it was used for those who were banished for crimes or illnesses. The Brits removed prisoners from the island, but eventually, after Governor John Murray died, prisoners were moved back to the island in 1807. Leprosy became more prevalent on the mainland and people thought it was contagious so those with leprosy and any mental illness were removed from the mainland and sent to the island. This was in 1846.
During the 1920s the cost to maintain the facilities for the ill was becoming too much and in 1931 the patients were moved back to the mainland. At this point, there were also advances in medicine that changed the original ideas about the illnesses being treated on Robben Island. During this time, no prisoners were on the island and between 1936-1938 it was used as a military reserve.

With the increase in Apartheid and those fighting segregation, the island was forced to re-open in 1961 and a series of arrests filled the prison. White political prisoners and all other hard criminals were left on the mainland and black and colored (these are the terms used to describe the differentiation between the prisoners) political prisoners were sent to Robben Island. It is estimated that 46 massacres occurred between 1950 and 1989 by the police in South Africa against protesters.
Over 25,000 people detained between 1963 and 1965 were killed while on Robben Island but most of the reasons consisted of it being either suicide or the prisoner merely "slipped." The most effective weapon used by the South African government during Apartheid was detention without trial.

Our tour guide's name was Eugene. Some of you may or may not know that tours are lead by former prisoners on Robben Island. Eugene was 16 when he was arrested. He was detained for 3 months before he went to court and was deemed a terrorist. His arrest came about because he was against the Bantu differentiation. Pretty much everything was divided between whites, blacks and coloreds.
For instance, in one of the pictures I took, it outlines what kind of meals white people get and what kind of meals everyone else gets. He was openly against the separation of education and the differentiation constantly made between citizens. For this reason, he was arrested and labeled a terrorist. He was sentenced to 15 years and served 7. He has determined now, that he will retire in Capetown after giving tours as he did for us. A very charismatic man, he left my heart aching when he said, "Get rid of the inferiority complex and regain status, integrity and dignity as human."
This was the goal of the prisoners on Robben Island. To show such an effort, one man was banned from speaking for 6 years. He was released and re-arrested several times over a course of more than 20 years and to show them who had control, authorities took away his right to speak. To communicate to other prisoners like Nelson Mandela, himself, the man would pick up sand near his fence (he was put in a private area where he would not leave or speak for 6 years) and let it sift through his hand. Why? To tell Mandela not to lose sight and to help people get back South Africa.

Jaws

2007-08-29T08:27:00.000-07:00

What an incorrect name for such a beautiful creature!! That's right, yesterday on Tuesday, August 28, 2007, I did one of the most amazing things in my life and went cage diving. Sidenote: All the following photos are indeed my own. I don't know if there is anything that can top this. Waiting a half an hour to see if there is even one sighting and being right in front when she came up to the boat teeth on display for all was an amazing way to start the day. We not only got a sighting but we got a spunky, high energy 3.8 meter Great White Shark. It was almost an out of body experience. In total we saw 4 different sharks ranging from 3.8 meters to 4.5 meters. Yes, if you do the math, these are big ones. Over and over we were told that we were being spoiled by how big these sharks were and how often they would come to the boat. The largest Great White the skipper had ever seen was 6 meters.

It is illegal for any boats to feed the sharks bait so instead it is used to attract the sharks as is chum, but there is never any direct feeding. Eighty percent of the sharks in that area female and twenty percent are male. Closer to Dyre Island, it is 60% female, 40% male. (a good Nik Naks commercial eh?)

There were 1-2 meter swells and I was able to hold off losing what little breakfast I had eaten with a seasickness pill. Once there is a sighting, they get the cage ready and 5 people get to go in. Once the Skipper sees a shark, he yells "Down! Down!" and everyone rushes to get underwater
(not always paying attention to how big a breath we've taken) because we don't want to miss the shark. Tightly grasping our underwater cameras, floundering trying to find the railing and places to put our feet. (We can't wait to see what kind of photos we got if any at all...I think I may have a few of my finger because of the chaos).
What fools are we! We saw lots of action. The first sighting I had underwater, a shark slowly swam by just minding her own business. It was the most peaceful, calming moment I think I have ever had in my life. What a paradox to have such a moment with what is considered to be one of the most ferocious predators.

Though I had several peaceful moments with that particular shark, I will say that they were not always so calming.
One shark would whip her tail at the water spraying us when she couldn't get the food. My second time in the water, I had one of the coolest experiences. A shark came up for the bait and started chewing on the line and the bait.
I was directly next to this event and the shark with its teeth around the bait and bearing down on me was inches from my face (yes, I will still in the cage and the shark was outside the cage). It's fin nearly came into the cage as it swam off. It was breathtaking, in a good way.
At one point, another guy had to hit the nose of one of the sharks because its mouth was coming in the cage.

I don't even believe I can successfully describe the experience. I have written highlights but the whole day was a highlight. These creatures can do amazing damage (we watched one actually bite off the end of the bait line and yet can be the most tranquil beings. (this is Christina in the cage and yes, she's actually smiling). The cold water, the views from above or below, the splashing around, it all contributes to an adrenaline filled 2.5 hours. (After the one shark but the end of the line, we had to call it a day because that was the last of the bait). It is captivating to come face to face with something that is inherently dichotomous...tranquil predator.

I apologize for my lacking descriptions. There is a dvd that I have purchased but unfortunately I can not upload any video from there because it is being sent to the States. I wish that anyone and everyone reading or looking at these photos could experience cage diving because it is unlike anything else in this world to which man has access.

Road Trip 2007 Garden Route

2007-08-29T07:05:00.000-07:00

What a way to experience a country by getting in the smallest car offered (Kia Picanto) and shoving three people and all their baggage into it driving a total of 3,215 kilometers. Boy, I felt bad for Rowdy, our third roadtripee, who stands at about 6'2" and is one of the most lanky people I've ever met. He took on the formation of gumby to squeeze himself into the back of our unbelievably spacious car.
Lacking the fear of driving on the left hand side of the road and not getting lost while walking around put me as the primary for the driver seat. Eventually, Christina tried it out and found that driving on the left isn't so bad so she was able to help quite a bit with the driving.
Of course, it makes it easier to make u-turns when a car doesn't have power steering. I'm quite buff now. =0)

The Garden Route is the highway describing the road that follows along the coast and a little inland all the way from Capetown up to Port Elizabeth. It's a beautiful drive that zig zags from the coast to partially inland areas that are surrounded by beautiful mountains.
My first experience with driving and getting out of Capetown took me through mountainous roads in fog, two of my least favorite conditions to drive in, even in the United States.
The coastline is absolutely breathtaking with waters that go on for miles with not even a boat in sight. Inland can consist of mountains to rolling hills to completely flat areas. It's different every hour that you drive. Watch out for people, baboons, goats, pigs, cows, horses and of course crazy drivers passing with barely any shoulder of a road to move onto and other cars coming toward you.

We reached Port Elizabeth quite quickly after stopping in Mossel Bay, Knysna, spending the night in Plettenberg Bay, and making a pit stop in Jeffrey's Bay. We decided to continue past Port Elizabeth and went all the way up to Coffee Bay as our most northern point.
From Port Elizabeth to Coffee Bay, we stopped in Cintsa for a night and then navigated through a road made of holes and a dirt road to reach one of the most beautiful and laid back hostels and communities I have ever experienced.

Coffee Bay is a hidden area far from the main roads that attracts only those who really want to go. Coffee Bay is inhabited mostly by those belonging to the Xhosa tribe. To us non-South Africans looking at the word Xhosa might create a predicament on how to start to even pronounce the name. For English speakers, the X is pronounced like a K and thus, it would look like: Khosa. To those who are of the Xhosa tribe, the X signifies a point to click with their tongue. There are various clicking sounds that are all distinct of one another and they mostly represent an X, C and Q. For those trying to actually click with their tongue, it is nearly impossible to have the correct pronunciation unless he/she grows up clicking. Otherwise, it is extremely difficult (though probably not impossible) to retrain a tongue to move in such a fashion. Xhosa is one of the last, if not the last surviving clicking language. It's extremely beautiful to hear spoken and is the second most common language spoken in all of South Africa.

For a man to marry a woman, he must pay her family with 15 cows. This is quite a feat. Silas was a guide at Bomvu, our hostel, and his family only has 5 cows. So, if he wants to marry someone within his tribe, he needs to somehow get 10 more cows.
If he decides to marry someone outside of his tribe, then first, they do the woman's wedding ceremony and tradition and then they would do his. The Xhosa celebration would consist of singing, dancing and drumming. (I had the honor to learn how to drum from a local master whose music is quite captivating). Houses are round shaped and have straw for roofs. The houses are painted different colors depending on what class the family belongs to. The colors we saw were white, pink, peach, light green and teal. Each smaller tribe has a chief and then there is a chief of all the tribes. The tribe in Coffee Bay has around 2,000 people and they all take care of each other. At 18, as a rite of passage, men are circumcized and sent to a hut where he must stay for at least a month. He is painted in white and must avoid most contact with women, especially women who have recently been sexually active. To go outside the hut, the boy must wear a cloak and take paths that do not run into women. It used to be that the boy/man would hunt for his own but hunting is no longer practised so his family brings him food. After his time in the hut, he is considered to be a man. The ritual for women consists of putting them in a hut where they are not permitted to see light for at least a month. They are not allowed to leave the hut during the day and rarely are allowed out at night. Once they complete this, they are considered a woman.

On Fridays, the owner of Bomvu, Carl, opens up his bar and facilities to the townspeople and everyone comes to celebrate, party and hang out. The women dance for everyone and sing traditional songs.
They dance on a platform facing a firepit where everyone crowds around to dance and clap along. It was quite impressive to watch the power one of the women felt from banging the drum. So magnificent! The chief of their tribe comes every Friday to show his support. Clad in his suit, he partakes of the homemade beer the women make and claps along to the drumming. Once the women are done dancing, the crowd moves inside to where some of the men drum. A group was put together by Carl the owner and the drum master, Willie. They have an excellent album. They drum freestyle, meaning that one starts a beat and the others follow in with whatever beat they feel goes along with the first. What a talent! Everyone continues to dance and when the drumming stops, people disperse and the relaxed environment sets in once again.

Every night at Bomvu there are different dancers or parties (not raging parties like what might be thought of in the US) but these are not for the benefit of the tourists. It is merely a statement to the lifestyle in Coffee Bay and the relaxed atmosphere that sucks you in the moment you get out of the car.

With a sad departure from Coffee Bay, we crammed back into our boat of a car and headed back down toward Capetown. We headed back to Jeffrey's Bay (very long day of driving), stopping in East London to go to the grocer...that was quite an experience. The grocer was full of people, lines down the aisles, Rowdy towering over everyone.
It took us nearly an hour to buy 5 items. From Jeffrey's Bay we took a hike in Wilderness and stayed at Buffalo Bay Backpackers in Buffalo Bay. Apparently, it is the best backpackers in all of South Africa.
It was small and comfy and I can see why it is considered the best (if you walk out the side door you are at the water) but I would not call it my favorite. From Buffalo Bay we headed to Gansbaai and eventually made our way to Cape of Good Hope.

Cape Point is considered to be the most south-western point in all of Africa. It is unofficially considered the point where the Indian and Atlantic Oceans meet. The Atlantic Ocean side was quite active while the Indian Ocean side was very calm.
We made our way back to Capetown and have only a day and a half before we take off for Kenya! We have no idea what kind of accommodation we will be receiving in Kenya, but the anticipation warrants much excitement.

Capetown, South Africa

2007-08-20T08:21:00.000-07:00

I have completely fallen in love with Capetown and could instantly move here (don't worry Mom, I will still be home in time for Christmas as planned). Capetown is absolutely beautiful and captivating. Seventy-five percent of it is surrounded by beautiful waters with Table Mountain towering from behind. It is definitely a picturesque city with various adventures and an enrapturing historical background.

There are 11 official languages here in South Africa. English and Afrikaans are the most common. Afrikaans comes from five different languages: Dutch, German, English, Malay and French. Everything is printed in English and Afrikaans and most people speak English and another of the 10 languages. There are cases of people speaking one of the 10 languages without knowing English as is the case of one of the cleaning women in our hostel. She politely nodded anytime we tried to say hello in English. It is an interesting concept to think about in how to get around and function without knowing English which is the unifying language here. We did fumble a bit when we first got here by replying in Spanish or saying Hola when we went into restaurants but a few weird looks quickly quashed that habit.

Though Apartheid is no longer legally allowed, it is still quite prevalent. Not recognizing if this is as common in the United States, we have noticed that establishments are frequently owned by white people and those working are black. Suburbs are still primarily black from the townships established but integration is occurring more everyday. Islam is very prevalent here and it is quite common for women to at least be veiled. Most women outside that we have seen have had the full chador. Mosques are scattered around the city and sometimes those in prayer can be heard. Shops usually close quite early and by 5pm hardly any places are open. A few clubs and restaurants remain open until the early hours (we have the luxury of staying right across the street from a couple so it makes bedtime wonderful).

We have been staying at Inn Long Street. They charge about 80R a night for a mixed dorm and although they can seem to have many people staying there it is never overwhelmingly hectic. Nikki is there Monday through Friday during the day and she is absolutely fabulous. She has excellent advice, knows all about the area and the best ways to get around. She will also help in getting the best deals and will do whatever she can to help. (Our shark diving was cancelled and she was able to help us rearrange getting a car and setting up a new day to go diving within minutes).

Company's Gardens is a lovely walk with a few monuments along the way but nothing overbearing. No crazy squirrels begging for food, just a few pigeons waddling. The architecture of the neighboring buildings along the walk are colonial and hold some of the historical aspects of the city. The national gallery has an eclectic feel from the British and Dutch portraits and artists to local artists. There are artists from the 18th century up to the present. There are some contemporary exhibits and even film clips. Statues and carvings decorate the center of large rooms while the paintings and photographs align the walls.
The aquarium is a few blocks from the Waterfront. The Waterfront has two malls, lots of shops and restaurants all around. The aquarium would be more impressive if it wasn't so expensive. It's about 70R and it took us about 40 minutes to walk around (and yes, we read the information as we go). The most impressive was the information on sharks and how many are needlessly killed when they really are not the predators they are made out to be. There are initiatives currently in place to protect sharks. Castle of Good Hope is quite small but does offer some information concerning how it was started by the Dutch as protection against the Brits and local invasion. There are a few rooms on display to depict the set up of the Castle, but not much more than that. The Slave Lodge is definitely a must see. A video informs of how slavery was started here and the lifestyle of slaves. One half of the museum is on slavery and the other half shows Dutch artifacts. There is an exhibit on United States slavery and how far we have come.
Though it is quite informative, we did find it odd that there was not much information on current or recent Apartheid here in South Africa.

Vineyards around here are amazing. We were lucky enough to go to the Stellenbosch region to Valliera and Tokara vineyards. (We went to two more but unfortunately, the names have escaped me). The wine was delicious as were the cheese tastings and our gourmet lunch. South Africa is known for its Pinotage. Although thought to also be known for its whites, there is actually a balance of white and red wine from the area that provides a good variety for meals. I am not sure what company we went through but Robbie was an excellent guide with decent jokes and plenty of knowledge (not just the same information we get in the States).

And what a scam we have witnessed here! Our first day, we were in a music shop and I was approached by a red-headed man, about 5'11", freckles, thin, wears loose clothing and walks around quite frazzled. He first asked if I was South African and if I could help him. Apparently, he said he got off one of the small buses here (much like a combi in Peru) and they took his passport and documents. He said he was trying to get to the consulate in a city I didn't recognize (I have info on the consulates and what he named was not part of what I had) and no South Africans would help him. He asked for some money and I said I couldn't help him. I felt horrible, but his information on the consulates seemed a little fishy. Later, I saw him walking on the street in the same frantic way and I thought maybe I had been wrong, but alas,
I was right and it is a scam. Four days later, we were in another music shop in another part of town and the same guy walked up to us except this time he had on a hat! He walked right to us and asked me if I was South African. We recognized him right away and as he asked us if we had a car, Christina was about to say "uh, huh, yeah, we know who you are," but she got through the "uh, huh, no" part and he knew he was made. He said "thanks" and walked out. So be aware! The music we bought was great, though.

We are hoping to see the District Museum, which is highly recommended, Robbin Island and Cape of Good Hope within our road trip this week. Shark diving is also still in the works but will probably be next week.

Buenos Aires

2007-08-15T07:08:00.000-07:00

Flashback to the early 80s in the United States with the bright blue roos, mullets and leggings tucked in bunched up boots and you have a snippet of Buenos Aires. Fashion is different but more in the hairstyles and color combinations than anything else. Men are just as fashionable as women and it is common to see everyone in suits during the workday. Everyone seems to have a dog here, but as a pet not as a stray. Dog walkers are common to see. I thought multi-tasking was easy until I came here. It's a little difficult to walk and see the sights while also watching my step to make sure I don't step in the dog poop scattered on the sidewalks.
We saw one woman nicely pick up her dog's poop with a piece of paper and then throw it into the street. Cars still have the right of way, but it is not too hard to get around since most streets are oneway. Each neighborhood has one or two things it's known for but each one seems to have its own personality making it an adventure. Although there is a decent subway and bus system (or what most people would call public transportation), it is not difficult to walk around the city and can actually be quite enjoyable.
There are plenty of plazas and statues to admire along the way as well as the various architectural designs. We did have the luxury of trying the wonderful, famous steak and wine here. Melbac was suggested to us by an Argentine we met in Lake Titicaca and certainly, it is a nice wine.

Due to sickness, our time here in Buenos Aires has been quite mellow but we were able to enjoy a Boca futbol game. Christina was able to go to a Tango dinner show but I was quite ill so I can only speak of the futbol game as a highlight.

There are some fans that are paid by politicians to be super fans. Not only are they fans for a certain team, but they also increase the rivalry between the teams and can start riots.
Originally, we bought tickets to see River play Newell. We paid extra money to have a guide escort us for safety reasons because things can become intense. The River game was cancelled because one of these paid fans was shot outside of the stadium after a game, last week. Fortunately, they were able to switch our tickets for the Boca Jrs vs. Argentino game. At first, we sat in the Argentino section of Argentino's stadium (each team has their own stadium) and our direct group had 17 people but in total we were 150 tourists.
Police align all the stadium seating and were in force. SWAT aligns the streets outside of the stadium with their armored trucks on high alert. We watched a bit of the Boca Reserve vs. Argentino Reserve game and when someone in our large group cheered for a Boca goal, the police officers suggested we be moved to the Boca side. So, all 150 of us had to move...where the other 133 ended up, I am not sure. We were all in the same area, at first, on the Boca side as well, but because we stuck out so much, they moved the other group. Oh the madness.

Banners are hung in each teams color. Flags are waved. Fans are decked out in their teams colors. Profanities are shouted constantly. Songs and cheers are repeated at the highest decibel in order to outdo the other fans. The quietest it gets, is during halftime when people take a breather to sit. During play, men get up on the railings to sing and lead the crowd. Some even get up on the fences and shake them, never daring to go too high because of the barbed wire coiled and spiked around the top. I could see only about half the field and since there are no scoreboards or big screens I always hoped the action would come back in my direction. The crowd is dominated by males...maybe 95%. Women can be trampled, quite easily, as I almost witnessed. Two men decided they liked my spot so they just stood on my step, directly where I was backing me up against the people behind me. Our guide had to wedge me out from between the two of them.

Although alcohol is prohibitied, it doesn't stop fans from drinking beforehand. The air oscillates between marijuana, cigarettes and a faint odor of men's cologne. If fans weren't loud enough or singing enough, the men leading the singing would get angry and start shouting. The band, or drums mostly, kept the beat going so the fans wouldn't get off key (well most of them at least).

Once the game was over (unfortunately, Boca lost to Argentino 2-3), we had to wait for the rest of the crowd to dissipate but, at first, it didn't. Not like it would in the US. Even though Boca lost, the fans didn't stop cheering and singing. We hung around until the Boca fans left and then pretty much had a police escort out of the stadium.
SWAT was now lining the field and the outside of the stadium. Fans were directed in opposite directions away from the stadium to eliminate the chance of fights or death. Once the police led us out of the stadium, we waited with them until the crowds were gone so we could continue to our taxis. Out of everything we've done so far, that seemed to be the most dangerous! It was definitely a worthwhile experience and I would very much enjoy returning here.

Goodbye Peru!

2007-08-15T06:33:00.000-07:00

As most of you may know, I am already in Buenos Aires and am actually about to leave here but I figured I would write a few last things about Peru...

Awaiting Angels is a great program but there is a lot of miscommunication and incorrect information between the organization itself and the programs throughout Cuzco. Alipio and Marta Leon Torres are great people to contact for volunteering. Marta works for Awaiting Angels but also does various outreach around the community and knows of plenty of opportunities to help where the money actually goes toward the people not the organization. If there is any interest, contact me, and I can put you in touch with them.

Fairplay is the organization through which I took my Spanish classes. This is a great one. A small percentage of the fee goes to the actual organization for books. The rest of the money, the student pays directly to the teacher. The teachers are single mothers who spend 7 months training to teach Spanish. They know some English (it depends on the teacher), and the money goes directly to the mother and her child/children. It is a fairly new organization, but one worthwhile to use.

There are some great book exchanges in Cuzco. There are a couple of cafes/restaurants in the San Blas area that have a great variety of books. Los Perros is off of the Plaza de Armas but they will charge 3 soles to exchange a book...not worth it given their small selection.

There are many clubs in Cuzco, but my favorite was Uptown. It's designated as an Israeli club (there are many Israelis who go to Peru, especially Cuzco) but many locals go there as well. There is good dancing and a good mix of music. There is some American hiphop but it does not dominate the whole night. Mamafrica is another club, but that is more for an American experience with an overwhelming amount of techno and people crammed into every corner. Mythology is another place, more for locals, but has a higher concentration of American 80s and 90s music with older hiphop and R&B. Overall, there is a good variety of different clubs, depending on what you are looking for.

Plaza de Armas is very touristy although walk 2 blocks away and there is hardly a tourist in sight. People will approach from all angles wondering if you want your shoes shined, postcards, paintings or any other trinkets. Some of these can develop into a snatch and grab situation where one person will occupy your attention and another will sneak around and grab your stuff. Fortunately for us, this never happened. People working in restaurants will solicit you with their menu. I would suggest not going to any of these places, if they are directly around the plaza, because you will be charged much more than if you were to walk a few more blocks.

I believe that is all I have. Just some tidbits incase anyone decides to venture down to Cuzco. Any questions on Lake Titicaca, Arequipa or the Amazon and I will try and offer as much of an answer as possible.

The Amazon

2007-08-11T11:10:00.000-07:00

Since I don't feel that I was able to fully depict an accurate picture of what Lake Titicaca was like, I decided that instead of doing a play by play of each day in the Amazon, I would just pick one or two things and focus on those. That would be the animals and the various Reserves we went to.
We went to two private reserves where one had a variety of animals that we held: sloths, a monkey, a bird, a boa, an anaconda and an alligator. The other private reserve had Paiche (a type of fish) and alligators. In addition to these two, we went to Monkey Island, which as you can guess has monkeys. While most of these animals are wild, they still have some domestic characteristics since they are being taken care of by humans.
I bring up the animals not only because they can be cute and cuddly (except for the alligator that didn't like me very much) but also because in the Amazon, animals are an extremely important issue. Unfortunately, as I have discovered on this particular computer I am using, I cannot rotate photos, so I cannot display some of my best ones.

Poaching is illegal in Peru but unfortunately, there is not much done to enforce this. Hunters will kill the various animals for their skin or meat, yet if they are caught by the police, nothing is done to them. Instead, those enforcing the laws, take the animals for themselves. The government is not much help because the jungle and the animals are not a top priority. I am not exactly sure what a top priority would be for the government here, other than maybe making their pockets deeper and deeper, which seems to be working well for them. Because of this, there are lots of reserves.
Alligators, I believe the White Alligators, are nearly extinct if not already. Even boas and anacondas are at risk, though they are not the most dangerous in the Amazon. We actually had the luxury of seeing a Fuerdeland, not sure if that's the correct spelling, just 10 minutes after it had been killed.
It is very common to see people walking around the paths in the jungle with machetes to chop off the heads of the snakes. Sloths are a hot item for their claws, I believe.
Some of the snakes will drop from the trees or will be under leaves so it's good to be aware of where you're walking.

Alas, I digress. Foreigners are at the top of the list for hunting, as is common in many places. For instance, in South Africa, they have opened a hunting ground where lions are raised just for foreigners to hunt in order to keep the natural wild population thriving. I think we are blessed in the United States in that our laws concerning hunting and poaching are enforced far better than anywhere else I've been or heard about. In a country where tourism is 60% of the economy, I would think that there might be more initiatives to preserve their natural attractions.
Then again, while the strikes were going on Peru over the last 2 months, concerns were only raised when nearly 15,000 tourists cancelled their trips to Peru for safety issues...not because their children were not being educated.

There are many people who are opening more reserves in hopes to preserve some of the Jungle in it's natural state. The state of the Amazon River, itself, is a whole other issue due to the pollution
but that can be for another time. With all the negativity from the government, it is touching to see how smaller communities are coming together and taking their own initiative. Maybe at some point, if enough people come together the government might wake up, but I certainly won't be holding my breath for that one.

Lake Titicaca

2007-08-01T10:35:00.000-07:00

A Quechuan word meaning "stone of the Puma," Lake Titicaca reminds me of the Aegean Sea with it's vastness and the islands scattered around. We departed from Puno and headed for the first of the 3 islands we would see. Our journey was a short 25 minutes, on a small (maybe 38ft boat) with a top part for some people to sit, to San Pedro which is part of the Uros Islands. The Uros Islands are all floating islands. There are blocks of reeds from the plant that grows (only in this area of the lake) that rise up due to water movement.
These blocks are about 3 meters deep, or so. They are tied together and then reeds are thrown down over them on which to walk. The islands are then anchored so they don´t move too much. When an island is being built, each month more reeds are thrown on top to secure ways to walk around. Houses are constructed out of reeds as well. There were about 8 homes directly where we were. There was an extension of San Pedro that held more homes but in a more private area. The area we visited was mostly for tourists. They use solar panels to get electricity so some families do have televisions, dvd players, telephones and computers. One of the Uros Islands has a telephone for national and international phone calls.

From the Uros Islands we headed another 3 hours out into the bigger part of the lake (although we were always on the Peruvian side--60% of the lake versus Bolivia's 40%)toward Amantani.
This is the island where we were to stay for the night. Upon our arrival, we were greeted by women in traditional dress. This consisted of brightly colored skirts just below the knee that poofed out to give the illusion of 10 layers. The skirts were accompanies with white cotton shirts with embroidery and black sandals. If their legs were cold, they wore, knit tights that were more leggings than tights. In groups of 2-3 we were placed with a family. Christina and I met an Irish girl, Sarah, and the 3 of us decided to be placed together. We met Flora. Flora has 2 daughters who were probably around 6 or 7 and a baby. She lives with her parents. Flora spoke little Spanish and mostly Quechua. Her parents both spoke more Spanish and so did her children because on Amantani, children are taught in Spanish.

Our room had 4 beds and a table in the middle. Although there was wiring for electricity, we had a candle for our light. The bathroom was an outhouse just a few meters from the house. There was a cow who watched our every move every time we headed for the outhouse.
At one point, the cow actually looked at me and mooed! After getting settled, we met the rest of the group in the plaza to head up to the top of the island to watch the sunset. It was absolutely beautiful! We could see part of Bolivia and some mountains that were still part of Peru. The clouds, the moon and the sunset were breathtaking. After the hike, we were to meet Flora for dinner before a dance party they were hosting for us.

Dinner was quite an adventure. We ate in their kitchen. It was a small room with dirt floors and a small fire in a stone area. We sat on a small bench eating soup and then some rice and potatoes. While we were eating, we heard squeaking noises. I thought maybe it was mice or rats. Christina and Sarah didn´t like that idea at all (neither did I, but what could we do?).
Eventually, the squeaking got really loud and we looked at Flora´s parents as a plea to tell us what was going on. It was their cuyes!!! Guinea pigs!! They had 8 adults and 4 babies and as Flora´s father was explaining this, one ran right between Christina and me across the kitchen floor!I watched it´s furry little butt wiggle as it went. Shortly thereafter, we finished eating and it was time to get ready for the party.

We were told we would be wearing traditional dress but weren´t sure what exactly that meant. We each were given a poofy skirt: green, purple, red. We were given embroidered shirts and a black shawl for our heads.
We wore the skirts over our jeans and although we looked ridiculous, headed toward the Plaza for the party. There was a band of boys, the oldest nearly 12 and we danced, mostly lead by the little girls. There´s a lot of running around in circles with a group of at least 20 people crammed into a small room with the little girls yanking our arms back and forth. It was fun. Eventually, the party moved outside temporarily and Flora asked us if we were ready to head home, so we obliged.

The next morning, we waved goodbye to our families and headed off for our last island, Taquile. Such a tranquil place with amazing views. We headed up to the top of the island, right off the boat.
We congregated in the plaza, about an hour after embarking to find a ceremony going on. Peru´s Independence Day was on July 28th so there is a week long party that goes on, on Taquile. Women wore their traditional clothes while dancing and the men played their music.
They did this for the officers of the 8 communities on Taquile. During lunch, we were shown how the dress of the men differs depending on whether or not they are married. What changes for the women is the colors they wear. It was quite interesting.

After lunch, we walked down exactly 540 steps, no not 541 or 539 but exactly 540 (they make a point of telling us) down to the boat for our 3 hour ride back to Puno. I sat on the top of the boat and had a wonderful time. There really is nothing like Lake Titicaca and unfortunately, I do not believe my description has done any justice.

Funny Picture

2007-07-27T09:01:00.000-07:00

This photo is from local bar for tourists. It cracked me up, though probably not as much as for the staff who watched me take the picture.

The Good, the Bad and the Beautiful

2007-07-27T08:43:00.000-07:00

For two days I've been thinking about what I want to say about my stay in Cusco and I am still not sure. As my time comes to an end, I realize what an experience and how quickly the time has gone by! The hospitality, the friendliness and graciousness of those we've met has been overwhelming. A population that has suffered much continues working toward a better life.
We have met people of the highest class here and those who have literally nothing left to their name. I have tried to have an understanding of where I fit into all this but I realized, that where I fit in, is as an outsider. I may never endure poverty like what exists here. I will, hopefully, be able to find proper schooling for my children and while I may not always agree with my government's decisions, I am granted much more protection than the citizens are here. I am completely fascinated by my experiences here. The positive energy from people here evokes a sense of gratitude.
I am sad to leave my life here but am also excited for the adventures ahead. From Cusco, we go to Lake Titicaca, Arequipa, a small town known for jewelry and ruins and then on to the Amazon. Who knows what will happen in the next chapter of this trip...

Jesus Mi Luz

2007-07-26T17:29:00.000-07:00

Not a 15 minute walk away from the Plaza de Armas sits Jesus Mi Luz orphanage. A home for boys whose families cannot take care of them.
Most, if not all, of the families are in Cusco and some of the mothers actually visit their sons. They usually come with even smaller children on their backs but provide some support to the lifestyle of the boys in the orphanage.

A few blocks off a main street, there is a huge red steel door that is locked all the time. To get in, you have to ring the bell. The wait can be anywhere from 30 seconds to 20 minutes depending on who has the one key and where that person is. The complex has two main buildings and a shed.
One building has administrative offices downstairs and upstairs is the library and the dormitories. The other building houses the kitchen which would catch anyone´s attention for it provides food to a group that is hungry nearly all the time. One large tree stands in the middle of the grounds providing a feeling more along the lines a yard and not grounds of an orphanage. Walkways are lined with multi-colored cement stumps to indicate the preferred way.

Once permitted entrance, various scenarios can be at play. Boys playing on the basketball court/soccer court, boys washing their dishes or helping in hard labor on the grounds, or on rare occasions the boys will be inside, upstairs in the library. When they are in school, the boys usually have play time until 3:00 and then have to work on homework until 6:00 when it is dinnertime.
When they´re not in school, which was the majority of my time here, they still go inside at 3:00 (on the rare occurrence that we´ve been able to convince staff to keep the kids outside, they can stay out later)and look to us volunteers for entertainment. Big hugs and smiles are usually at the front door waiting.

Being a governmental organization and being low on supplies, the boys are usually dressed in an eclectic style. Pants that are too small and shoes that are too big. Sometimes there are no shoelaces and floss has to be used or no shoelaces are used at all. Unfortunately for these boys, there is no toilet paper or kleenex to help them with their chronic runny noses.
It took me asking three boys if they needed toilet paper and them telling me yes and me telling them to get some only for them to reply that there isn´t any before I caught on. Because of this, they have learned to blow excellent snot rockets or just continue on with a very runny nose. I usually want to laugh and cry at the same time as I watch them struggle. Lotion is not very commonplace, either, and these boys suffer from cuts due to extremely dry skin. Some are shy and won´t respond when asked how they are doing but a quick soft touch or a small crack of a smile tells me they know I´m here.

Most want to play professional futbol and it has been great for me to get to play with the boys of all different ages from the small ones at 8 years old to the older boys of 15.
Taps is a huge game for the boys to play and it involves thin, little plastic coin shaped toys that are tapped on each other. It takes less than a minutes for groups of boys to congregate to play Taps.

Just in many situations, there are the bullies. There are three that come to mind and they usually run everything. They decide who gets to play futbol, what toys the younger kids can play with and they will threaten the other kids if they don´t get their way. They can also be the hardest working kids if they want to be. As I watch them interact I realize how they´re just such young boys and they just need love. Tough love, soft love, whatever kind of love...they need it and more of it.
I watched one kid go from being a bully to being his 12 year old small self in a matter of seconds when I took his toy away. The most ironic of situations is one of the smallest boys at 8 years old who is a natural leader and can sometimes control the older boys. Such big britches for such a small boy. They usually travel in packs together and when they can´t find anything better to do, they´ll look around for the easiest target and smack him and then run.

While at times, this work has been difficult, it is most rewarding. I don´t know if or how I have impacted any of these kids. Maybe to communicate to them that there are people out there who care. Their smiles will make your heart melt. Each of them deserves a good home and I wish I could provide that for them. Their excitement in playing games and getting help with homework makes the hard moments worth it. There are infrastructural issues, which can affect how the system as a whole is run, but ignoring those (which can be extremely difficult), these boys are what matter. I am sad to leave them, especially not knowing what will happen to them, but I know they are in better hands than they would be if Jesus Mi Luz didn´t exist.

Laguna de Huacarpay

2007-07-18T09:15:00.000-07:00

Growing up, camping was always a summer feature. Once each of us (there are 3 children in my family, of which I am the youngest) reached a certain age, my father would take us camping. Tent camping of course. I wouldn't know the first thing about pop-ups or RVs. Luckily, REI has come up with easier fashioned tents so it's quicker to put up a tent than to have to fiddle with the splintered wooden sticks and the metal fasteners. Camping here in Peru was a different experience, but one I would do again and again. I'm sure people in the States have experienced car camping, but this car camping was unlike any other I've seen or heard of. The only planning done was what food to bring, who was going and the general vicinity of where we were to camp: Laguna de Huacarpay. (I would try to spell it phonetically, but that would cause more confusion than help).

We arrived at the Laguna (it's not like Peter Pan's Laguna, it just means a smaller lake...pretty much anything smaller than Lake Titicaca is a Laguna) and drove around looking for spots to settle down. A hay/grass area under a tree was chosen and we parked.
A fire was started mostly just of grass...no need for technicalities because we had an endless supply of grass to pull from and it gave the kids something to do. All in all, I believe there were close to 20 people crammed into 3 cars. One grandpa, his 7 children and some of their spouses, 4 grandchildren, a couple cousins and 2 gringas. What a party!

A makeshift pan that was made earlier in the afternoon was used to cook beef kabobs with peppers and onions, served on a real plate with a mountain of fried rice and potatoes. Most definitely, it was the best, most gourmet looking meal I've had for dinner while camping. It comes a close second to my father's breakfast of sausages cooked in peach juice. Mmmmm. I was lucky to help the other women in preparing the potatoes and getting things ready for dinner.

Frequent trips were made to the road, away from the fire to look at the stars, so close it seemed like I could just put up my hand and touch them. Jupiter was out, the Southern Cross, and somewhere was the star we named after my grandfather. It was very tranquil to stand there and look up, especially when shooting stars flew by and we got to make wishes.

It wasn't until about 1 or 2 in the morning that the craziness started. Rum and coke is a common drink around here. Pitchers are filled with the two and a sippy cup(half a Dixie cup) rotated around while everyone warmed up around the fire. The first game was Hot Potato but every time you were caught with the ball, you had to act out an animal.
I'm not a very outgoing person in this area, so I blushed and giggled just about every time I had to go. My first animal was a horse (a joke for Christina and me because we kept using the word for gentleman- caballero- instead of horse-caballo- for a few days until we got it straight) and then I did a fish. Christina did a bird and a frog. Then the game was the same except that you had to SING! That made me even more nervous! Christina got it right with the Beatles and then I had to come up with UB40--at least some of them knew what I was singing.

All the while music was playing and we were all laughing. After Hot Potato, we played a game of mimicking dances. Each person would have to do a dance move and everyone would follow. Hehe. Christina and I just did funny dances from the States like the Running Man and Roger Rabbit. It was hilarious.

We didn't go to bed until after 4 in the morning and Christina and I slept in the backseat of one of the cars. There was even a couple in the trunk! (Yes, the trunk was open).

Once we got up a couple hours later, we went to a nearby field, right next to the lake, and played soccer for about an hour. It was fun, but I had a few respiratory problems since I'm not used to running at 10,000ft. Then, we packed up and headed out.

Just like the Quinceañera (it was the same family who invited us to that), this family took us in again for their camping excursion. They want us to stick around to go up into the mountains
(I thought we were in the mountains) to go to their cabin. The hospitality is overwhelming and more than we could have asked for. Language barrier or not, they took us in and treated us like we were part of the family, as if we have always been part of their family.

A Condor, a Llama and Jesus

2007-07-16T08:41:00.000-07:00

No this is not the beginning of a horrible joke.

This is a photo of an actual Condor we saw at ruins nearby Cuzco.
It is considered an endangered bird but is a large symbol for Cusqueños. There were trainers with the bird to protect it.

This picture of a llama cost me 1 sol because the woman who owns the
llama was cleverly standing 50 feet away and after we took the picture told us we owed her money.

And, this is a huge, overwhelming, statue of Jesus that sits on a hill overlooking Cuzco. It looks quite beautiful with the sun behind it.

Quinceañera

2007-07-16T08:26:00.000-07:00

Imagine a black tie wedding reception for 200 people and instead of it being a wedding, it's a birthday party for a girl turning 15, where only 50 of the people are adults. A club mimicking Incan ruins was rented out. Little booth type sitting areas were backed with fake rock ruins, scattered around the whole club. One bar was in the middle and the other was tucked in a corner. Disco balls twisting with all different colors dancing on the floors and walls. Pop music played with pods of kids placed all around. Throughout most of the place, boys are on one side of the dance floor and girls are on the other side. Some small groups are mixed but mostly they are in groups of their own kind.

Compared to everyone around us, we looked like school teachers (sorry, I don't have a picture to show...Boris, Christina's friend, has them). Boys wore suits or tuxedos. Girls wore formal dresses, most of them strapless with elegant, intricate designs and heels. Most, if not all, had their hair professionally done.

Once Candy, the birthday girl who is Boris' niece, arrived, the dance floor was cleared and the music stopped. Candy's parents walked onto the dance floor and then 15 of Candy's girlfriends, wearing black cocktail dresses, walked in with candles. Once Candy arrived, her father gave a speech and then her best friend made a speech and then Candy, herself made a speech. She had a dance with her father, then one with her date and an interesting event occurred... Candy changed part of her dress and danced a choreographed dance for everyone and then she did another one with her friends. Once her dance was over, the party started.

Food was carried around on plates, while everyone danced. Boris' family moved to a more private part of the club where they had their own little dance floor and area to sit.

It was interesting to see the type of party thrown, the money and class to do so, and the dichotomy of children dressed as adults. It was like nothing else I've ever experienced. It was definitely a perfect example of wanting to experience a culture its dynamic characteristics, not just its tourist attractions.

Bailamosing

2007-07-10T09:32:00.000-07:00

A word coined by a fellow Gringo who was visiting a friend here in Cuzco...though quite funny how the term came about
(a tipsy Gringo wanting to bailamos with everyone) it struck me that Christina and I are bailamosing just about everyday. Each day presents a different ''dance'' of Peruvian culture to learn and understand.

Racism is something that Christina and I have witnessed, but, for the exception of limited reverse racism (as some call it) in the States, we have never really been the target of it. It never occurred to me until a combi ride, that we could be targets of racism. Being 2 of 4 Gringos in our neighborhood, we stick out quite a bit. When I first went to meet my Spanish tutor, I was a little nervous as to how she would know that I was her student, until I realized, I would be the only Gringa surrounded by locals. She had no problem figuring out that I was her student.

The combi ride was interesting. Christina was sitting because of a sprained foot while I was standing. Behind me was a small boy with his sister and mother. I wasn't paying attention to what the boy was saying, but Christina overheard the little boy talk to his mother about the whiteys. He laughed quite a bit about us whiteys, but his mother and sister didn't do a thing to correct him. Instead, they just laughed along with him.

The orphanage is a different experience everyday. Some days there is a little bit of play time outside and then a movie or cartoons inside. Some kids have homework and some do not. Public schools are on strike, which seems to be more common than we'd find in the States, so for the majority of the boys there is no school and probably won't be in school for the rest of the time we are here.
Those in private schools still have classes but there are very few of them. Children are taught in various ways and most are foreign to concepts in the States. Some days, we play outside all day long- well for the 3.5 hours a day we have with them. Some days, like yesterday, we brought a coloring book for them to share and some crayons, which worked well for the first hour and a half. After that, fights broke out, kids yelled louder and louder to get attention (which it seems to be common outside of the orphanage too), others fell asleep among the chaos. The difference in our days at the orphanage, only speaks loudly to the discrepancies in a governmental institution.

Christina and I have found it a different experience to have a wash room but one for washing clothes by hand. The angst is quickly stripped away by the single image of women washing their clothes in a river littered with trash to the point that you can barely see any of the embankment. A river so unsanitary, that the smell wafting up to the bridges creates a sense of being down in a sewer. The severity of the situation is striking and the image is emblazoned in my head and on my heart.

While these three examples are quite depressing, there have definitely been light moments for us which bear the same situation in learning about where we are.
For instance, what happens when the keys don't work to the door and everyone is asleep? Well, there are two options: 1) Find an open window and climb through to open the door from the inside for the second person. When the door won't open from the inside either, of course, just make the second person, with a bummed ankle climb through as well. 2) If there is no open window like the previous night, kick the door a little bit to try and get it to open and then have someone wake up to let you in. Luckily, for Christina and me, we had a chance to experience both these situations. Even though we've explained that both our keys don't work, one of them looks like it turns so it must be alright. The problem for us is not getting the key to turn, but getting the door to pop open.

Forget getting the door to open, what would happen if you finally get into the house after climbing in the window or slightly kicking the door and make it to the bathroom before there is an accident, only to find that there is no water? No water means no flushing toilets. Like any sensible person, or two Gringas like us, you'd try to get up early enough, before anyone else, to flush the toilet when the water has come back on.
Although, it's not gravely inconvenient at night because you can sleep through it, the interesting moments are when the water goes off in the middle of the day. It does make lunch an interesting yet funny adventure, to say the least.

While these are only examples of daily life, they do represent the new experiences we encounter on a daily basis. Taxi and combi rides can be different. Some stores are open during some times and others are not (although we have a good handle on when siesta is). Something we see as simple as having water changes daily. Even the weather that we thought would be the same is changing so now we have no idea what to expect. The only expectation to have here is to not have any expectations. With that in mind, I'm excited to see what other bailamosing I'll be doing.

To Be Guinea Pig Or Not To Be

2007-07-04T09:38:00.000-07:00

This is one of those language barrier things. Guinea pig is a common meal here in Peru and it is one of those things that we´ve been told you must try before moving on. Christina and I both had guinea pigs as pets so it´s a bit odd to want to eat them, but we talked it over and decided we should try it. So we asked our guide what a guinea pig is called and she told us chicharron. So we thought, alright we´ll have to try it sometime. Well, we got back to our house for lunch and we had potatoes and a meat and a mint and onion salad. Christina asked what kind of meat it was and Ester, our host mom, said it was Chicharron and that it was Julio, her husband´s favorite dish. We kinda looked at each other but said alright...if we have to try it, we´ll try it. My 4 pieces had a bit of fur left over on them so I wasn´t really in the mood but to be polite, I ate as much as possible. Christina thought it was good and just went for it.
During lunch, we both explained how we had had guinea pigs as pets, and how mine was named Sammy and hers was named Lolly. We explained how it´s very normal in the States to have guinea pigs as pets. They thought it was amazing that we both had them as pets, but said okay. Well, since it was Julio´s birthday, a couple volunteers from Alipio´s house (Julio´s brother) came over. Christina asked them what the word for guinea pig was and they said cuy not chicharron. Chicharrones are pigs!!!!!! Christina and I started laughing immediately.
Christina had wanted to explain how we keep them in cages and give them little bottles of water with wood chips!! It was a good thing she didn´t because then we would have been muy loco.

Things to Keep in Mind

2007-07-04T09:19:00.000-07:00

1) Make sure water won´t stain the wooden floor before hanging wet laundry on the line inside.

2) Make sure the hooks on the wall are secure before trying to hang line (even without wet clothes on it).

3) Make sure your money is not fake so you won´t try and give pesos when the currency is soles.

4) Make sure to turn the hot water switch off after showering, even though there is no hot water, so it won´t cause the pipes to explode. (Haven´t done this one yet, but we´ve been warned).

5) Make sure to secure any toiletries or toilet paper before going to the bathroom so they won´t fall in before you have a chance to flush. Sidenote: for most Americans, the fear of falling into the toilet will become a reality. Ladies, there are no toilet seats.

6) Make sure to have coins and not as many bills because most likely you can´t get change and there is a possibility that they may take your bill without any question or any change. (Haven´t experienced this one yet, either).

7) Make sure to recognize your actual combi stop so you don´t continue to have to walk a 1/4 of a mile to your house.

And Of Course...

8) Make sure to have tickets with the right date on them so the conductor knows where and when you´re going and you don´t almost miss the train because you´re bags get hooked on the door and you nearly tumble backwards due to the weight on your back.

First World Royalty

2007-07-04T08:45:00.000-07:00

No matter how destitute a situation I´ve found myself, I have still been privy to the common characteristics of an American life. Commonalities that are pure luxuries here in Cuzco.

We live with a well off couple and their twins. They have a nanny/cleaning woman who helps out around the apartment. Both the wife and husband are educated and in turn are educators. They have a 2 bedroom apartment with fairly large bedrooms, 2 televisions, 1 computer, a stereo, a nice sized living room with one bathroom. They live a little outside Cuzco proper and do quite well for themselves.

With these luxuries, there´s no refrigerator, but there´s a microwave. Food is purchased on a daily or meal basis. There´s no hot water or heat. A 2 burner stove but no oven. No cabinets for dishes, just a rack with enough dishes for individual consumption--no dinner parties. Their washer and dryer consist of a sink in a separate room with a bucket of soap and a clothesline hung on the top of the building outside.

Yet, with all these contrasts, they remain a well-off family and the nicest, most hospitable couple we could have asked for.

The neighborhood where we live, San Sebastian, is quite far from the center of town. Far enough that paved roads are far and few between. It makes the combi rides quite interesting- especially if there aren´t any seats available and standing, well crouching (we are quite large compared to a lot of Peruvians) is the only option. There is a bar that runs the length of the combi to hold onto but to secure your stance, it is best to push your shoulder blades up against the top of the combi. Otherwise, other riders end up with a butt in their face which won´t do much for keeping up gringo-local relations.

Cars-well anything automotive has the right of way. No stop signs exist and stop lights are considered an exciting find since there are nearly none.
Cross walks are painted but rarely used. They don´t technically mean anything. Lanes are painted as well but you wouldn´t know by how people drive. Horns are honked constantly either to warn dogs or people that a car is in the vicinity heading in the direction of the dog or person, or they´re used out of impatience for other vehicles slowing down the flow of traffic--which is pretty fast. Not autobahn fast but enough to instill some fear at points because of how close vehicles drive next to each other.

Dogs are everywhere--maybe someone´s pet, maybe not. Horses may have one front and back leg tied to prevent them from running away.

School is only for those who can pay. If school is not an option, then it is either work or the streets. Families who can´t bear the burden of a child can take him/her to an orphanage (like the one I´ll be working for--the families of these kids live in Cuzco).
Tourism, though sometimes annoying to Americans, is welcomed with open arms into a society where 60% of its wealth is due to tourism. While we might like to hide and keep sacred some of our most beautiful sites, here, the more people find these beauties, the more revenue goes to the State, the more jobs are created, the more opportunities for more people to get an education.

While this may seem limiting, the Peruvians we have met are not tarnished by the materialism that plagues so many in first world nations, creating a sense of First World Royalty. They remain humble and grateful for what they have and teach us Royals a good lesson.

Machu Picchu

2007-07-01T10:16:00.000-07:00

There definitely aren't enough powerful words or ideas to properly describe Machu Picchu. These mountains emerge, all over Peru, and it reminds me of how I imagined the town at the end of Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged. The mountains look over your shoulder, watching as us tourists embark on the Machu Picchu adventure. Glorious, magnificent, breath-taking--they just don't do it justice.

We made it up to Machu Picchu around 06.30, before the sun arose and just took it all in. You enter on one hill that overlooks the majority of the ruins and the mountains behind it. Neither of us could stop taking pictures. It became almost an addiction or compulsion for fear of missing that one shot. It ended up being the same shot but even standing 2 feet away from where the last shot was taken created a sense that it was a completely different picture.

We ran into a British woman who suggested going over to the Inca bridge and also waiting for the sun to come up for a beautiful view (again it's hard to do the view justice). Watching the golden glare peak over the mountains can only prove that God exists. The rays shining down over the city were unbelievably peaceful. It was quite overwhelming at times to witness such beauty that exists on our Earth.

This kind of beauty, while it can be found in the States, has its own unique qualities based off of the historical element here. What went on here thousands of years ago is masked by the beauty of what exists today.

We eventually went on to the Inca Bridge. The bridge is maybe a foot and a half wide and thankfully, not used anymore. It is literally attached to the mountain with solid, flat rock to one side and a couple hundred meter drop to the other side. It was an amazing view but one I'm glad to look at and not actually experience.

After the Inca Bridge, we toured the ruins. We took pictures of every angle that we could. To see these walls built by placing rocks together and where there was space, sticking smaller rocks in to hold the bigger ones. Knowing that these rocks did not come from this site is overwhelming itself. I have been struggling with a 40lb. backpack and people had to drag or carry bolders for many kilometres. Different rooms of all different sizes each having a specific purpose which is not completely known. Llamas and alpacas run around a lush green field eating, playing and even grinning for us to take pictures. It's either grinning or a warning sign of showing teeth. We were too far to tell, so we just moved on just incase.
There are steps that are so steep that you have to hold on to whatever rocks is around because no matter which way you may fall, it would do some serious damage.

By this point, my legs were already sore but we decided to do a small hike up Huaynapicchu. This hike is at about an 80 degree incline. Hmmm....my legs love me. The view was worth it. It overlooked the ruins and the mountains on the other side of the ruins. We rested for a bit and then headed to go do another hike on the other side of the ruins called Intipunku. We were told it wasn't too bad a hike until we started. It really wasn't too bad but our legs were pretty tired. The incline was not nearly as steep. We saw 2 geckos along the way. Woo hoo. We made it up and of course took tons of pictures and then headed back down to catch the bus. We made sure to descend a little slowly to avoid breaking our knees.

I have wanted to see Machu Picchu ever since I was 11 years old and it was worth every minute and every sol (Peruvian money). I would suggest to anyone and everyone to check out Machu Picchu because it is definitely worth it.

US to Peru

2007-07-01T10:02:00.000-07:00

After a long two days of travel, we finally made it up to Aguas Calientes. It's absolutely beautiful here. We haven't ventured too much with the food yet but guinea pig is a standard typical meal so we'll be trying that soon. Alpaca is very common as well. The hot springs were not taken care of as nice as we might find in the States but the warmth felt great after hiking around Machu Picchu. We've met lots of great people including a guide who lives in Cuzco and is willing to show us around. We may be able to have him take us to Lake Titicaca one weekend. There are tons of foreigners around here: Aussies, Americans, Italians, Brits...it's great. Even the locals are extremely nice and hospitable. We couldn't have asked for a better frist few days here in Peru. Stay tuned for my Machu Picchu experience!

A Loss

2007-05-14T18:19:00.000-07:00

I have suffered a loss today. One that I did not know I could suffer. I lost someone I knew to a fatal accident, someone who, initially, had hurt me. Even when that someone reached out to make amends, my hurt kept me from welcoming the change. I feel foolish. That person is no longer with us and I am stuck with my last thoughts and words that were borne out of hurt. I will forever be plagued by my guilt over this. I realize this is meant to be a travel blog and I can say that I believe this occurrence has everything to do with my travels. It opens my eyes and brings me back to the reality of my future endeavors. Accidents can happen. For reasons larger than each individual, events occur. With this in mind, I am reminded, through tragedy, that it is of the utmost importance for me to try my hardest to make the most of the relationships I have now. So, when I travel, I know that if anything should happen to me or those I love, that I tried my hardest and did the best I could. In this particular case, I did not. I hope and pray that nothing will happen while I am gone, either to me or anyone else I know. But for now, my thoughts and prayers go out to Jeremy's family and I hope they can find some peace.

We're On Our Way...

2007-04-29T19:31:00.000-07:00

Sixty days to go and things are starting to come together. I finished my closed water scuba training! Just four more open water dives to do and I will officially be certified. My first dive after my certification will be, yes that's right, in a cage looking at Great White sharks. I'm nervous just thinking about it. Just some final planning, some shots to get and eventually the stress of packing.Exactly two months and we'll be on our way! Can this really be happening?

Am I crazy?

2007-02-09T19:00:00.000-08:00

I can only hope that this huge undertaking will help decrease the travel bug that resides within me. If not, then I'm in big trouble. I don't know how many times I could go through this and I still have 4 months until we leave!! Christina happens to be one of the best travel buddies I could ask for and what's better is that we've been friends for over 10 years! The goal as of right now is to hit 4 different continents (possibly 5 if we snag a layover in Europe somewhere) over a 5 1/2 month period. It may sound quick to some but for us it's perfect. Our tentative/ideal itinerary is as follows: Peru, Argentina, Brazil, South Africa, Kenya, Thailand, Singapore, Malaysia, Australia, New Zealand and Tahiti.
Our goal: to experience as much of the culture of each individual state while finding a balance between what it is traditionally touristy and what is not.
I hope that the planning and actual trip documentation will provide not only some words of wisdom, usually discovered through baptism by fire, or just plain funny stories. I tend to have stories to tell about almost everything in my life, so there should be some comic relief along the way. Stay tuned and any comments or suggestions would be well received!