Iguazú Falls

Now that I have some more photos and such, I'm going to start posting a little back catalog of my trip. Here, a video from Iguazú Falls in Argentina- pretty impressing. They just keep going and going. The amount of water is unbelievable. It's like the earth just caves in on itself in between Paraguay, Argentina and Brazil. When we rode over it in the plane, people started clapping.

We took a ride on a boat that goes right up to one of the falls and even though you are still a good 15 feet away, the water pressure makes it feel like you are literally underneath it. I couldn't even open my eyes.

sleepless in montevideo

So now the wild adventures are over and I’m back in Montevideo, which is quiet, homey, and also a little sad at the moment. It sounds funny to say because not only am I still here in South America, but I have my own room in an apartment with two lovely ladies and I live about 7 blocks from the beach.

Still I feel a little lost. I literally have nothing to do. And to be honest, I never really thought about the next step after Tori left. So for now, I’m running, getting back to my Spanish and following Andrea and Emily around to various Uruguayan Christmas celebrations. In 2010, I’m going to start looking for a job, in which I'm crossing my fingers to make $100 pesos/hour ($5).

mi dormitorio, which I have come to find out is actually the maid's quarters

it also happens to have it's own door to the kitchen that allows me to make it from my bed to the refrigerator in less then 2 steps, que suerte

this is my view

from the balcony of this room

I know, I know - Pobrecita!

One Classy Holiday.

Hi,

This is to Francesca and any readers of her blog. This is Tori, the girl she traveled South America with. We are guest writing on our blogs. I have been sitting here trying to think of something to say that could sum up our experience. It´s really hard. Especially, because anyone that´s not us will never fully get it. They can read our blogs, look at our pictures and hear our stories, but they will never fully understand. It is really overwhelmingly sad that I am about to go home and will be reliving some of our days in my head and she just isn´t going to be around like she has been to laugh. I just spent more consecutive hours with her then anyone else in my life... and we did get along the whole time (I know I can be difficult to live with).

Not to sound cliche´or over dramatic, but things like this definitely shapes and changes you as a person. I like to think from this experience that our situations and Francesca really taught me to be present in the moment... not let you´re mind wander, slow down and enjoy each moment. That is the one idea that I´ll be taking back with me in real life. And it seems so simple, but really after spending countless hours on a bus, driving through towns made of plywood and no running water you realize you do have it good. I always knew that existed, but seeing it changes your perspective. Having some literally beyond grateful with a forty cent tip is a mind boggling thing. And me personally being able to live out of a carry-on suit case makes you realize all the crap you just don´t need... besides for that piece of Jesus memorabilia you might stumble on.

This part below is really for Francesca.

Evita Peron: 10 am out the window, no sleep, my impersonation.

Snap.

Only $10 and one day our fridge will be full of this, cheese and fruit for juice bebidas con leche.

Meet Me At The Hotel and I Know I Want You are really one song.

I will never eat jambon again.

Favorite drink on earth.

It will always be watching you, but by now it is probably another color.

On this trip we met a lot of amazing people along the way. People in South America just generally seem to be more happy. They say hi, walk down the street with a smile and so on. A lot of people we met commented on the stress of the US. It was amazing talking to different people from every country just to listen to there way of life. The country we both fell in love with the most, especially with the people was Argentina, specifically the city of Buenos Aires.

Below is Facebook banter I just had with one of out friends and one of the reasons I will be going back to BA.

Ojo
if you want... in this country there is a place for you...

12:13amTori
thank you.. i love it there. i will be back and speaking much better spanish!!!

12:13amOjo
jajajaja... ok...
it is a promise

12:14amTori
i´ll miss you! it was so great to meet you! thank you for being so nice to us.

12:15amOjo
it was a pleasure
well good bye and good like... good return and better trip
sorry, good luck
not good like

Tori
bye! see you again oneday.

12:17amOjo
I hope that thus it is
kiss

Honestly, I´ll be back. I feel compelled to spend more time there, as well as Francesca. It was just so nice to be in a city full of life, with happy people and good food. It is so inexpensive and its was like we were treating our self to this amazing experience even if we were staying in and eating cheese and drinking bottles of champagne in our pajamas. It is something I have to do for myself one more time in my life and hopefully with Francesca if our lives meet up again like they did this fall... it definitely gets harder the older you get... side note speaking of getting older, let´s me take the time out to say HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO FRANCESCA!!!!!

She just turned 24 and we spent some time eating sundaes with dulce de leche at McDonald´s.

We always got to keep it classy.

I could go on forever, but basically this trip was one of the most amazing things I have ever done and I needed it. It was reward to myself for months of hard work and dealing with one dramatic situation. I am so happy Francesca asked me to experience this with her because I don´t think she would have asked if she didn´t really value our friendship. We really had only been friends for less then a year and half the time I was living in Korea. I am going to cry so much tomorrow as I get in a cab to leave and I don´t want know the full effect from this vacation and Francesca till I am sum what settled at home. I know it is only positive. It sucks because I feel like I am breaking up with Francesca... she knows more about me then most from just my daily routine to my actual life. We slept in the same bed for 52 nights and now it is just abruptly ending and we are both continuing on two completely different paths. But the traveling isn´t all fun. It´s tiring, confusing and dangerous at times and if you can survive it you know it will make you a stronger person in the long run and prepared for your next journey no matter how big or small.

For all of Francesca´s friends that are not meeting her down here... you are crazy. Money comes and goes, but experiences like this last forever and you should really try to take part of this time in her life with her.

I love you Coca! You are doing amazing things because you are already an amazing person... I can´t wait for you to come home and do all the things we talked about to hopefully end up back down here for a little. I didn´t think I would be this sad, but I am. Just remember to spin it all more in positive light, your Spanish is good and if you need anything at all you know I will help. Now go get your self some hand-sanitizer, keep your bag stocked wit h tampons and chapstick. Oh, and don´t forget to bring a blanket on the bus. I would say drink plenty of water, but you already got that down.

Best save the trip moment:

Walking into the hotel to find an ATM.

I will now officially use hotels i am not staying otu for everything;

internet, bathrooms, taxi service, gift shops, etc.

A special shut out to the Bizcocho winners of the trip:

(people that were not on the trip, but were key players)

Colleen Reagan for the lavender wipes that came in handy on every 20+ hour bus ride.

Robert W. for loving blue boobies as much as we do.

The cast list of all the Key players:

Marcel (I hope that is your name) AKA Braziliano.

Spencer, for taking us out in Rio and giving us the knowledge of Lapa.

Roy, the best hostel bartender, who made very strong drinks.

Santiagoe for making us go out to embarrass our selves trying to Salsa dance.

The airport dude from Rio that help us get on the plane to Bogota even though he might have never actually got on the flight.

Our little tour guy from the Police museum in Bogota, we were able to tell Paublo Escobar was fat from his jacket.

The taxi driver from the border in Ecuador , who chased down the bus in his car to get us to Quito.

Our hostel dude in Quito, who gave us so much information and made phone calls for us and a special shut out to the lady that worked for him and did our laundry, while we desecrated churches.

Andres for being 19 , getting us surfboards and rubbing sand on my jelly fish sting..

Andres´s grandma for dusty empanadas and making us canned tuna pasta.

Don Cherry the best tour guide we never head.

Remi because I am thinking about you right now, you must be thinking of me.

Paublo for all our bracelet and necklace needs.

The creepy tour guide that made us realize never have a drink with the creepy tour guides.

Our eight year old server that took time out of watching TV to go get me a beer.

Karlina and the rest of the television crew for giving us somewhere to go out to in Quayquil and of course for making us television stars.

Ricardo for telling us the next day cabs have been kidnapping people, but you redeemed yourself by figuring out the bus situation to Lima.

The bus guy, on the trip from Arica to Santiago, that fed us the same meal four times and fantasized about doing Coca the whole time.

Every man that honked even if there little kids were in the car.

Everyman that pretended to be a taxi driver to try to get us in the car.

The paragliding guys in Lima that made sure we didn´t fall to our death.

The lady that sold us ponchos to climb Maccu Piccu.

Karolina who made us her best friend in Santiago for the night... You are a Sexy Motherfucker!

And the bearded guy who gave me the scarf to cover my legs, also that same nice.

Lars, our white water rafting instructor.

Our wine tour guide in Mendoza.

The people that robbed us on the subway... you are a little bitch!

Marcello, who made Buenos Aires for us... we can´t thank you enough and you are the best person of the whole trip.

Nameless boys in BA.

Dante and his family for having us over.

Augustine .

The kid who kept our wine glass full for six hours.

Fucking gorilla bird... I will find you one day.

Cristo that was watching us on every hill.

The restaurant workers in Columbia that were so happy to talk to us and ran down the street to get us ice.

To all restaurant workers that ran down the street to get us change.

The women in Quito that made us an amazing breakfast.

Nicholas our server from the amazing restaurant in BA, that proved it´s okay to hang out with your tables.

The old ladies on every bus that watched out for us.

Fucking Australians and the Australian woman and English guy that redeemed Australia as a country.

The large groups of the French.

And of course

Francesca & Victoria

For keeping it classy.

(Tori didn´t exist on this trip)

And I just want to say it´s ironic my shoes were on, even though we each ruined many shoes.

Keep showing them how fun you are!

Love you lady.

Te Amo Meubles.

Te Amo Huevos.

Te Amo Peligroso.

Te Amo Francesca.

from the other perspective

Sorry I didn`t tell you about this sooner, but Tori has a blog too.

http://torimcnally.blogspot.com/

Before she leaves, we have guest appearances scheduled.

1 bottle, 2 bottle, 3 bottle, 4

Buenos Aires is the first place since Montevideo where I`ve stopped for one second to take a breath. It`s been a week and we have a life here. An apartment. Friends. We are staying with a big Mexican who cooks for us and pretty much integrated us into his life (thank you so much Shaun and Victoria). We have now extended our stay in this city twice and I know finally leaving tomorrow is going to present a huge challenge and not only because we will probably be up until 8am. It`s great to know that I can come back here, as I`m really only a 3 hour boat-bus combo away, but I try not brag about it to Tori because she is leaving me in 4 days to go home to a foot of snow.

Compared to the site-seeing for we did for 2 months straight, we really don`t do anything here. For instance, yesterday we slept until noon, got up, went for coffee and waffles, took a walk, got juice, saw some art, went to the grocery store where we bought a bottle of champagne and drank it. Then Marcelo took us to a party. His friend has this party every year at his parent`s house to celebrate the end of the year which is funny because everyone wears shorts. It`s also funny because their high school principal opened the door, which isn`t weird because he comes to every party and drinks and smokes cigarettes like he`s 25. And I know what all you educators who are reading this are thinking, but here it`s not considered taboo at all. He put his arm around somebody`s mom, he poured me wine - he is literally part of their social circle and also seemingly a part of their family.

It`s kind of hard to explain, but the parties are just different down here. And, this may seem obvious, but life is different down here. At one point last night, everyone stood around in a circle and said what they are thankful for in this past year. I didn`t understand everything, but I`m pretty sure no one said their i-phone. Life down here is simply more celebratory. This trip has definitely taught me to slow down, relax and be more in the moment which I find really difficult to do at home. Yes, you can say that that can be attributed to the fact that I don`t have bills, I`m not working, I don`t even have a cell phone, but I think that it`s more. South America, like Europe and probably everywhere else in the world except America, is a place where you sit and have your coffee (evident by the fact that the one time that Tori and I did get coffee to go, it came in a bag). Everybody seems kind of ageless because life is lived always the same way no matter how old you are. In Buenos Aires, specifically, we were welcomed into a group of life-long friends without even speaking the same language. In a week, we were at birthday parties and family parties and dinners. This is a life that is going to be very difficult to leave and $10 bottles of Chandon rose isn`t making it any easier.

first world, second world, third world

Admittedly, I haven`t done my research, so I`m kind of confused about this whole ranking. I`m pretty sure it has something to do with poverty percentages, amount of running water and literacy levels. If they`re not, perhaps wild dogs should be added into the mix. I think every country that I`ve been to is considered developing but it`s hard for me to believe that beautiful, leafy, modern Argentina with the extensive metro system, vast vineyards and luxury hotels is grouped with Ecuador where the lights are turned off for 4 hours a day. Either way though, I guess everywhere`s the asshole who`s going to steal your wallet from you on the subway.

a heartfelt apology

To my diehards,

I am very sorry that I have been remiss in my posting. The combination of crappy computers, random blackouts and all the exciting stuff that lies beyond a glowing screen has made it very difficult to keep up with this. I really like to post some photos as well, but it that always proves itself an insurmountable challenge. Anyway, to bring you up to date. Since Machu Picchu, I have been in Arequipa, Arica and Santiago. Now in Mendoza. Tomorrow - Buenos Aires, including a side trip to Iguazu. Then my full circle will bring me back to Montevideo, where I will stay for a while, until I decide what the next step is. Maybe then I will have some time to finally be up on this blog. Until then, though, something on the fly about Peru. Stay tuned.

Missing Thanksgiving was only made tolerable by the fact that I spent it in Peru - touring ancient ruins, drinking pisco sours and generally indulging in all the glutony that my favorite holiday celebrates.

So far in the trip, we've been on a roller coaster of gastronomical
experiences that has included - fantastic cheap ceviche served to us
by an 8-year-old in a restaurant that is basically somebody's house,
really horribe expensive ceviche that was pretty much just over-cooked
fish in some lime juice, all different varietals of bready breakfasts
that were sometimes served with eggs and this marmelade made out of a
fruit that doesn't exist in the US, unchewable meat that we accidently
ate in a karaoke bar, daily smoothies and tres leches tastings.

Peru, though, has been nothing but high points. We started out in Lima on Saturday at Astrid y Gaston, a Peruvian staple that has been around since 1994 and was given to us a reccomendation from Jose Garces. Trying to forget the
petrified ham sandwiches we were forced to eat on the bus that morning, we went all out and opted for the 5-course tasting menu. We added the foie gras as an extra course. It came with dessert. We ordered another. La Mar was next, a ceviche restaurant owned by the same couple in which we were served my favorite meal of the trip. After the ceviche tasting and abottle of wine, we went paragliding off the beachside cliffs.

In addition to those grand meals, we've had a ton of other memorable lunches and dinners in Peru's chifas (which are not at all like the GRG restaurant byt the same name) and elsewhere. We didn't eaten bad there at all and that includes the pesto we made from a box one night to save money.

One thing I can't get over though, is that guinea pig is considered a Peruvian delicacy. If you know me at all, you know that I'm pretty adventurous with food and I have to admit that I'm a little disappointed in myself on this one. But everytime I see it on a menu, all I can picture is little Patches, my first and only pet, curled up in his wire cage in the corner of the living room of our townhouse
which is enough to make me gag and pass over and over again. I did, however, eat some ostrich carpaccio.

Thanksgiving in Machu Picchu

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, so naturally I had to do something really extravagant to make up for the fact that I was missing all of that delicious food. I chose of one the seven new wonders of the world.

It's nearly impossible to describe through mere photos and words how breathtaking the ruins are. A bus takes you on road of switchbacks to the top of the mountain which literally puts you in the sky. Clouds whip past, alternatingly giving you glimpses of the incredible surroundings and blocking views only 5 feet in front of your face.

They are sprawling. We spent about 4 hours touring them and probably could have stayed much longer. It was also made a bit difficult by pelting rain which did not relent, of course, until we were back at the foot of the mountain. The trails were slippery and at some points, a misstep could pretty much lead you to certain death.

key players

Don Cherry, Puerto Lopez - This bumbling Ecuadorian tour guide took $90 from us to visit Isla de la Plata. The transaction took about an hour, because he showed me a map and proceeded to tell me (in Spanish) about every region of his country. That night, he came to dinner at our hostal and regailed us with stories about crazy half-naked European women on his boat. When his son left to go to bed, he stayed and hung out with us and told Tori he has a son who´s an engineer and speaks perfect English.
In Puerto Lopez, there´s one photo used everywhere to advertise whale watching and it is Don Chery´s tour. It wasn´t season, but we were psyched nonetheless. The next morning two teenage girls in matching school uniforms came to our bungalow to lead us to the boat. When we got to the water, the children of the corn bid us farewell. On the boat, we were the only ones who were not French. Don Cherry was nowhere to be found. That night, he came back to the hostal and asked us why we were sleeping on the beach two mornings ago. We asked him where he was all day, but we unable to uncover a reason through his slurry, rapid Spanish, so we just let it go and chalked his absense up to the fact that he probably did something way more interesting that we may someday hear about from Tori´s future father-in-law over a spaghetti and tunafish dinner made by somebody´s grandma.

Ingrid, Rio de Janeiro - This middle-aged South African woman was a staple in our hostal. She wore her pink string bikini all the time and smoked a million cigarettes, waiting for the 25-year-old Argentinian who would get her high and take her dancing. When he did, all she could do was stand on the balcony and smoke more cigarettes.

Every male tour guide, continental South America - Luis, Adan and about 7 Javiers always ask us to dance salsa with them later that night. We went once and have since learned our lesson.

The owner of the first hostal we stayed in, Sao Paulo - Nicest man ever who just opened the place 3 weeks prior to our stay. He let us do laundry for free and gave us pastries made by his mom. We´re very lucky to have this perfect image of him before throngs of ungrateful travelers with dirty feet wear him down little by little.

Cafe owner, Guayaquil - This beret-wearing whack-job kissed by bare legs repeatedly and also tied a red string around my ankle. I think he also tried to set me up with his daughter, who wanted nothing to do with me. He danced around the room, stopping every so often at our bar seats to thank us for coming and to please visit him again. If I ever return to Guayaquil, I most certainly will.

Mr. & Mrs. Hostal, universal - These are the backpacker types. They are usually Austrailian and there´s something about them that´s not quite right. They look at us funny when we shower and put on makeup. Uniform is navy blue striped cargo pants with an elastic waistband and birkenstocks.

Andres, Puerto Lopez - This is embarassing. He is 19. Tori and I shared a not-so-innocent crush on him. We talk about him daily and when we look back on photos, he looks 19. But in person, he was so much more.

Remi, Puerto Lopez - Best bartender ever. Impressive artist as well. He gave us ginormous beers for $1, 50 cents off the normal price. He made us necklaces out of seaglass and recycled cans and said things like, ¨I do not have e-mail, so when I think of you I will know that you are thinking of me.¨ Possibly my future boss.

Chicken lady, Quito - ¨We would like breakfast, what do you have?¨¨For breakfast today, we have chicken.¨¨Chicken?¨¨No.¨10 minutes later she shows up with chicken, while the table next to us gets eggs and fresh juice.

girls, you have a message. city hall called

This is what the hostal owner told us after we had come back from exploring Guayaquil. With the first sentence, I was sure it was my mother. But no, the Ecuadorian government needed our help. We are the only English speakers staying in the hostal. Could we please help the citizens of Guayaquil learn to speak English on national television? Why not?

A crew came a short while later and we filmed simple scenarios in very basic English. I learned that I am absolutely the world's worst actress because I was unable to stifle my laughter every time Tori looked at me with wide eyes and exclaimed, "It's 5 o'clock, Francesca!"

These commercials will be aired in January and by then everyone in Ecuador will know how to say, "Hello! My name is Francesca. I am from the United States and I am a tourist!"

the chronicles of puerto lopez

Chapter 1 - We are dropped off in the early morning dark. Delirious, we double check our location. Puerto Lopez, yup. A swarm of taxi drivers surround us. They wear goggles and helmets because they drive these motorcyle/wagon hybrids. The directions to our hostal said, "we are on the Malecon, just walk around or ask somebody." With no other choice, we jumped into the "cab" and he sped down the dirt road. In 30 seconds, we were there but it didn't seem anyone else was. We sleep on the beach until the employees of the hostal come and find us to check in. We were assigned to Bunglow 8 and our bed had a mosquito net.

Chapter 2 - In daylight, PL is unbelievable. It's off-season, so we are bascially two of ten tourists in a tiny little untouched beach down. It's charmingly delapidated and makes no apologies. It's pretty much one street, with straw huts on the beach side advertising special hot dogs, chicken spaghetti and pina colodas. On the other side, is concrete houses interspersed with general stores. In the street, motorcylces and bicycles whiz, families of 4 piled on top.

Chapter 3 - We go surfing with our new 19-year-old friends. At night, a grandma makes us dinner and we sit around talking for hours in two different languages and somehow understand.

Chapter 4 - Having been there for two days now, we walk down the street and run into about ten different people we know - our favorite bartender, server from last night, the local jewelry maker who has a serious crush on Tori, the tour-boat guy, our baby friends, Carlos who asked us to go dancing and every surfer in town. We buy a bottle of water and the lady doesn't have change so she tells us to come back later when we have smaller bills. When we do, she gives us two bananas that she had grown.

Chapter 5 - By the time we are ready to leave on day 4, we are laden with gifts - necklaces made of sea glass from Remi the bartender and bracelets from Pablo. He offers me a bartending gig that I am seriously considering taking, which also includes a free language exchange.

We came to PL for Isla de la Plata (the poor man's Galapagos), but that isn't even worth writing about compared to the experience of becoming part of this town for a few short days. We literally cried when we left. Now we are in Guayaquil, which is boring in comparison. Tomorrow, we leave for Lima and I absolutely cannot wait to get there and eat.

the jungle gym

For $2 entrance free at the Basilica of Quito, you are given free reign. There are crazy ladders and stairwells everywhere and you can climb, climb, climb as high up as you want to go. This would absolutely not go over in sue-happy United States. We had a blast.

Tori walking above the rafters.

Stairway to the sky.

The floor, if you can call it that.

36 hours

Okay, first of all, yeah, I´ll admit it, I spelled Colombia wrong. Thanks, anynomous, whoever you are. Show yourself! I´ve been writing on the fly recently and blogspot does not have spell check, so cut me and my grammatical mistakes a break.

Anyway, back to the important stuff. Migrating from Bogotá to Quito was quite an adventurous day and half.

Hour 1 - Cab picks us up at our hostal and on the ludicrous route to the bus terminal that includes an accident in which the people just left their mangled cars in the middle of the road, we listen to Mariah Carey´s entire catalog.

Hour 2 - On the bus, our driver chooses some Jackie Chan movie. The previews, in English, were a tease, because of course, the film was dubbed.

Hour 4 - Tori and I wake up from a nap to a man wearing army gear and carrying a machine gun climbing on our bus. He spits something in Spanish, then turns his head a little to catch part of the flick. Everyone is forced to get off the bus and women are pointed in one direction, men to the other. I got a little less scared when I was given a hand to decend the stairs of the bus. They search our bags. Taking advantage of the checkpoint, vendors have lined the side of the road. Drug free, we are permitted to buy some plantains, which are delicious.

Hour 5 - We stop for chicken at a roadside cafeteria. It is salty and again, very delicious.

Hour 6 - Bus stops. For two hours, we are stuck behind an accident on a curvy road. Everyone gets out of the bus and watches the sun set over the banana trees.

Hour 7 - The lights are turned off, forcing us to go to sleep at 6:30pm.

Hour 10ish - The air conditioning is unbearably freezing. Tori wakes up and asks me to throw a pot of boiling water on her face.

Hour 19 - After a terrible night of sleep, I wake up and look out the window for several hours. We are slowly climbing mountains, taking the most circuitous (did I spell that right?) routes and then quickly decending, passing trucks and other slower buses on 1-lane roads. The paths literally melt into the scenery behind us, which consists of rolling hills perfectly divided for crops; cows, goats and chickens; tiny one-horse towns; homemade basket shops; and restaurants with plastic chairs. It´s literally impossible to tell where we´ve come from and, with the front of the bus sectioned off, where we are going.

Hour 20 - Fast and Furious, you guessed it, dubbed in Spanish.

Hour 22 - MASH. Tori marries a sexy Brazilian and rides around in the side car of his motorcyle. I marry my favorite DJ, who has become a trashman. Although, we live in NYC and are taken around in a chauffuered town car.

Hour 26 - We arrive in Ipiales. We run to see a beautiful church built into a ravine overlooking a waterfall while our cab waits.

Hour 27 - Dropped off at the border. Stamps from Columbia. Bags checked. Walk across a bridge. At some point in the middle, we leave Columbia and enter Ecuador. Bags checked again, this time in a little concrete structure. The guard asks us where we´re going and why, where we´ve been, where we´re from. Do we have a map? What´s next? Why? Why? Why? Ecuador stamps. They guy behind the window tries to charge me $96. I think he was joking, but his face was a little too serious.

Hour 28 - Cab to second bus terminal. The driver asks us if we´re trying to go now. We say yes, and he immediately switches it into 3rd gear and starts chasing a bus. We pull over on the side of the road, pay the cabbie and these two guys come running up, grap our suitcases out of the trunk and book it. We follow, laughing hysterically onto a bus with open windows, headed to Quito (we hope).

Hour 29 - The bus plays the best traveling music, loudly. At every stop, people get on and off the bus to sell us stuff. We buy plantain chips (can´t get enough) and water. We are charged $4.50 each for the 4-and-a-half-hour bus ride.

Hour 35 - In a cab in Quito, ecstatic that we are so close. Then the driver tells us we still have another 30 minutes. He also tells us to be careful.
We sleep.
Now, in daylight, Quito is fantastic, a beautiful, bustling town where lunch costs $1.50 and churches are veritable playgrounds. Tonight, we are going to eat at the best ceviche restaurant in the country and then going to see a German electronica DJ in an old historic theatre. Photos and more stories to come...

100% colombian

After going to the wrong airport, getting more than a little shit from the Brazillians about not having a plane ticket out of South America and a 7-hour plane ride, we finally made it out of Brazil and into Bogotà, Colombia.

Like Brazil, it is not what I expected at all. That´s about where the similarities end. The tranquility of our beautiful hostel (clay roof, courtyards with hammocks and Spanish-speaking women dressed in organge making us tea) and the cobblestone roads of the historic old town are in sharp contrast to the constant party in 100 degree weather of Rìo.

Yesterday, we took a tour of the police museum, which is apparrently not a very popular tourist attraction. Honestly, we just wanted to see Pablo Escobar´s bloody jacket from the day he was killed, but we ended up getting our own private tour of the beautiful building filled with artifacts of not only Escobar´s capture, but the whole history of the Colombian police force including bazookas and photos of be-headings. We asked our tour guide why there were police all over the street with machine guns, which we found to be a little unerving, but he explained it´s only because the president´s house is in the historic district and they are there to protect him. After that, we drank the best coffee ever for about 40 cents.

Everyone we`ve come in contact with here has been overly nice to us. One guy took one look at me on the street and said in English ¨Oh my god! Hello! Welcome to Colombia country! How are you?¨ Without my camera and Tori across the street, I have no idea how he even knew I was a tourist. In a small restaurant, we ate a 3-course meal for less than $6 total and the owners animatedly talking to us, shocked that we are Americans here to visit and just kept listing places to go and things to see and telling us to be careful.

Today, day 9, is consisting only of an extremely long 25-hour bus ride to the border of Colombia. There, we will stop in a small town called Ipiales for the day and then take another bus (only 5 hours this time) to Quito, the capital of Ecuador.

rio´s beach

The beach in Rio de Janeiro is unlike anything I´ve ever seen. First of all, it´s insanely crowded. There is a wall of people that makes it impossible to see anthing but umbrellas. And asses. In yet another stereotype proved true, Brazilian bikinis are the smallest things I´ve ever seen and everyone from 6-year-old little kids to 70-year-old woman wears the same size. And let me tell you, one size does not fit all.

Another interesting part of the experience are the beach entrepreneurs who walk around selling food, bikinis, towels, jewelry and shelving units. We drink from coconuts daily and we also bought an açai water ice thing with granola and honey. I´m glad we only discovered it today because it was the most delicious thing I´ve eaten down here and at 5 reals a pop, we easily could´ve dropped 40 in the 4 days we´ve been here.

Obviously, the merchants aren´t the most well-off people in the city, but seeing a kid of not more than 5 with a money belt selling candy was particularly disheartening. It was pretty sad to see him working like an adult. It seems as though the conditions of the life here make it necessary for kids to grow up too fast. The most precarious/disheartening of situations down here has been in interactions with children, including one time we saw a bunch of kids hang from the window of a moving bus to get on for free.

Overall, though, Rio is not as terrible as everyone says and I´m really happy I got to see that for myself. In general, it´s just a really big city on a beach where it´s always super hot and filled with people who came here on vacation and never seemed to have left.

Wonder how this will contrast with the next stop, another notorious city - Bogota, Colombia.

cristo

A 13-story statue of Christ over-looks over Rio de Janeiro, blessing a city that´s ironically rife with crime.

The view from the hill is stunning; Rio is literally built into hillsides along a beautiful beach. The sculpture is striking, although I felt like being so close to it ruined some of the mystery.

days 1-3

Day 1 - Tori and I were miraculously able to meet up in Sao Paulo with nothing more than a few thrown-together plans via facebook. I was so excited I screamed. After settling, we pretended to make plans online for a while, then got dinner. In my rampant quest for sushi, I led Tori to Little Japan, not the best neighborhood at night, we found out. The restaurant the guide book recommended was no where to be found so we ended up in the Brazilian version of Mai Lai Wah.

Day 2 - All the touristy stuff we could pack into a day including a 3-hour walking tour where we saw unbelievable graffiti and tons of churches, some of which even had whores soliciting out front. Tori tripped on a rock and pulled my hair to catch her fall. It was hilarious. Since I´m obsessed with going up, I forced Tori (who later told me she´s scared of heights) to go to the top of the tallest vantage point of the city and I am unable to explain how massive Sao Paulo is. The photos do not even do it justce. Apparently, Sao Paulo has the most helicopter traffic of any city in the world because the rich use them to get around. They even have helicopter-sharing, for the bargain price of $40,000 anually.
We saw about a dozen in a span of less than 5 minutes.

At night, I tricked Tori into going to an expensive sushi restaurant. When we got the $1oo bill, she made me promise to not lie to her for the rest of the trip. Afterwards, we went to an expat bar. We should have stayed away because the only Phillies game I was able to watch since I´ve been here was a disaster.


Day 3 - First bus trip, 6 hours, not too bad for me, pretty bad for Tori as she left half her clothes in the overhead. We are now in a hostel perched high above in the hills with a breath-taking view of Rio de Janeiro and about to meet the famous Spence, a good friend of non other than Brian Sirhal.

Before parting, a few more remarks about Brazil. A fascinating mix of beauty and squallor, the country is infamous for the grand inequality of classes (think gypsies with 3 kids begging, helicopters). Brazilians don´t have a specific look, so it´s a bit odd to see black people, Asian people, German people and every other kind of people speaking Portugese. The juice is the ubiquitous and delicious. They use fruits I´ve never even heard of and every time I just point to some word that has x´s and ç´s in it and I get a wonderful, cold surprise. I even drank straight from a coconut.

chau

It’s officially my last night in Montevideo and I must admit I’m a little sad to be leaving. I’ve gotten very accustomed to my life here and I was beginning to feel very comfortable in my home, my school, my city.

After dinner, Amparo presented me with a notebook she keeps of all the students who have stayed with her. The pages are filled with letters, cards and notes to her from 11 different people, mostly from the states or Europe. In Spanish, I attempted to convey what a lovely person she is and how kind, helpful and hospitable she’s been. I thanked her for waking me up everyday, telling me when to bring my umbrella and for her incredible dulce de leche mousse.

Montevideo was more or less a random decision and I still have difficulty explaining exactly what it was that brought me here. In reality, Anthony Bourdain first gave me the idea and it was later solidified the more I read and heard about the city and country. Finding the school finalized my decision. For taking such a long shot, this experience couldn’t have gone more smoothly. Here I’ve consistently felt safe, welcomed and stimulated. I’ve even begun to see Montevideo as beautiful; it really has grown on me. Leaving my computer and brick of a dictionary under Amparo’s care ensures a return, probably some time in late December.

In addition, last night I was finally acquainted with some Philly girls who'd I'd been e-mailing with for the past few weeks. We were united through mutual friends and they will be here for the next six months. They are wonderful and already, I have a bed and an invitation for Christmas and New Year’s.

Tomorrow, I will brave the humungous metropolis of Sao Paulo alone, before meeting Tori on Tuesday. I’m a little daunted just by the directions I copied in order to get from the airport to my hostel, which includes three different modes of transportation, but I’m up for the challenge. I already have some reales, the Brazilian currency, which is intensely colorful and decorated with fish, birds and cougars and I’m pretty sure I remember how to say “thank you” in Portuguese.

Until soon.

halloween

couch surfers

During my last week of school, two new students were added to our class, much to The German’s and my dismay. They were more or less on the same level, but the whole dynamic of the class totally changed (for the worse). They’re from New Zealand and not terribly interesting. They only tidbit worth mentioning to further the story is that they are couch-surfing their way across South America.

The person that they are currently staying with is in a band and he played a show last night that they invited me to. Not having anything better to do and unable to turn down the offer of live music, I obliged. I got there at about 12:30am and the bar barely looked open, so I waited for while on a stoop like the Montevideoans. Eventually I asked the bouncer what time the music would start and he told me it would still be another hour so I grabbed a beer to go to kill some time and returned. Not surprisingly, the bore of a couple never showed, which ended up being for the better.

Without even realizing it, I had tapped into the couch-surfer scene and I met people from everywhere who host and/or travel all over the world relying on the kindness of strangers and their more-or-less comfy couches. Continuing with my luck of great music this week, there were three live acts and then a DJ spun fun dance-y music like Depeche Mode and Madonna. I had such a blast and wish I hadn’t waited until my last weekend to go out alone.

candombe

The other night I saw this amazing candombe show with no less than a dozen drummers and a DJ. It was by far the best music I’ve seen in Montevideo. When the bar was closing down, they walked out still playing and continued the show on the streets.

I learned that this group and the drummers I saw way in the beginning are a huge part of Carnavale and they play these shows to practice for February.

la feria tristan narvaja

The expansive market I visited on Sunday, named Tristan Narvaja for the main thoroughfare the miscellaneous wares are sprawled out on, made Plaza Matriz look like K-mart.

At the entrance, I was greeted with an array of live animals for sale. At first it was mostly fish with some lizards and frogs, nothing too crazy until I saw small glass containers each with one palm-sized tarantula crawling around inside. Quickly passing the spiders, I moved on to the live poultry section in which wire cages were stacked and each stuffed with a different kind of bird ranging from chickens and geese to parrots and pigeons. The cute and cuddly section was last with tiny puppies, kittens, hamsters and other furry things. These were also spread all over the fair and it was uncommon to see a t-shirt vendor who also had bunnies for sale or a guy with scrappy little dogs crawling all over each other in the basket of his bicycle.

Beyond the petting zoo, this market had everything, and I really, actually think it was everything (except peanut butter to my dismay). This is just a small sampling of the stuff I saw there – bunk beds, toilet seats, keyboards, samurai swords, naked baby dolls, old burned and dubbed DVDs, prescription glasses, eggs, false teeth, ceiling fan blades, a big plastic hand with the middle finger sticking up, toothbrushes, giant squash, sexy nurse lingerie, lamps, giant painted glass bottles and also some regular old glass jars and bottles, herbs and spices, booze, etc.

This stuff, including parts of mannequins (sex dolls) was laid out on the street right in front of a junkyard. This, and a lot of other crap I saw, makes me think that some of the vendors are dumpster divers and make their living selling back to us all the stuff we throw away.

If I were living here, I think I could have decorated an entire house with one trip to Tristan Narvaja. But I’m not and I can’t afford to fill up what little free space I have in my suitcase so early on in my trip, so I ate my way through TN. Oh yeah, and I bargained for a red Budweiser King of Beers fanny-pack.

continuing with the trend..

Last night, I had a dream that my teeth were falling out and since I woke up this morning, I've been consumed with the image of spitting them out one by one.

I was obsessed with the question of what this could possibly mean, so naturally I googled it. Apparently, this theme is quite common.

Also from the very resourceful site - "A dream about one's teeth falling out usually means and symbolizes that the dreamer is having a hard time or a challenge getting their voice heard, their ideas acknowledged or feelings responded to."

Truer words have not been written.

MOWs

Since I’m boring and barely ever go out, I spend my Friday and Saturday nights watching hilariously dubbed films. I don’t know who makes the choice of what movies to translate, but they are so bad I wouldn’t even want to watch them in English. Since I’ve got nothing better to do, I’ve seen Pamela Anderson’s big fake lips move over Spanish in “Barb Wire.” Danny DeVito was a fluent speaking gangster in “Heist.” I understood about 10 percent of the conversation that Jason Lee and Julia Stiles had in a bathtub in “A Guy Thing” and Spanish probably made “Intolerable Cruelty” a bit more tolerable.

my blog has gotten me in trouble

Today, my teacher told me that he took a look at my blog this weekend and he won’t stop teasing me that one of the things I listed as missing is making out. He also told me that there’s a church that has an English-speaking Sunday School in Montevideo to which I replied that the Sunday School that I miss is actually in a bar, where I learn about beer and wine and cheese. Anything like that in English? Maybe with a hot bartender so I can kill two birds with one stone?

plaza independencia

This is one of, if not, the main plaza in Montevideo. It’s very beautiful and has all the makings of a great city square – lots of trees, well-kept grass and fountains. It’s about four blocks from my house and I get to walk through it every day on my way to school.

In the center of Plaza Indenpendencia is a ginormous monument to Artigas, Uruguay's liberator.

Underneath this monument, two honor guards keep watch over his remains in a huge, elaborate tomb.

Palacio Salvo, a striking building that was once South America’s tallest, is often considered the symbol of Montevideo. Don’t quote me on this, but it looks now as if some people are lucky (rich) enough to live there.

In addition, the city’s only 4-star hotel is located here so I have a place to take a bathroom break when I am reading/sleeping in the park.

dreams

Almost every night since I’ve been here, I’ve had the most vivid dreams. A lot of times they involve my friends. I had one where Jessie and I were taking a cruise together and we were running away from her boyfriend. I had one in which Rachel and I were listening to music and I was trying to find this one song to show her and I went through every CD I had with no luck. Sometimes, they are really odd and ridiculous. But usually, they are really miniscule events, even down to looking at my hands and realizing my nail polish is chipping. They are always very real and when I wake up in the morning, I have to remind myself where I am and tell myself that these things didn’t actually happen. I’ve always had dreams, but never as often and never as realistic. It’s bizarre.

My theory is that my brain is working on overtime, as I attempt to wrap my mind around an entirely different language. So, when I go to bed, it just doesn’t really know how to slow down. This would also explain why I am able to sleep 9-12 hours each night.

Amparo has a different theory, mainly that I miss all you guys. In the same breath, she also told me that I am very brave for coming to a place alone that’s so far away from all the people that I love. A place in which I don’t know anybody or the language (very well). I wanted to tell her that yeah, it is hard (meh!) but she’s done more than she knows in making the transition easier for me. Of course, all I could get out was “Gracias.”

i really need a new dagger

Every day in Plaza Matriz, which is where my school is located, there’s a market and they sell the weirdest stuff. Among the things I’ve seen are old license plates, various coins, a demon ashtray, Beatles records and forks. Each day, the vendors meticulously arrange long tables full of shiny things and every afternoon what is not sold is packed up to be put on display the next day.

three things

Over dinner last night, I was talking about how my mom says there are three topics that you never bring up with strangers.

“Of course – religion, politics and futbol,” Amparo declared.

I guess it’s okay to talk about money among Uruguayans.

the things i love

Amparo, palm trees, Spanish (most of the time), constant discovery, empanadas, South American fruit, getting hollered at even when I feel disgusting, open-air markets, Tannat (Uruguayan grape varietal), plazas, being blissfully unaware of the time, Los Simpsons, dulce de leche, not working, receiving e-mails/comments/wall postings/messages from people I love, 25º C, soccer, meeting people, clubs that open at 3am, naming the wild dogs, laughing at myself and The German, 35peso ice cream sundaes from mcdonald’s, free time, menu ejecutivo, my school and teacher, street music, free museums, La Rambla, pretending to be a guest in expensive hotels, wandering aimlessly, daily naps

the things i miss

Mom, my bike, hamachi tacos, text messages, Sunday School, Mondays with the LWLs, Thursdays at the Copa, coffee to go, flirting, my leopard coat, Steve’s cooking, New York, the D (on occasion), Abby’s magazine subscriptions, spicy food, HBO, running in to people I know, making out, striking up a conversation with the person next to you (highly underrated), IPAs, long showers, Silk City, my shoe collection, the buy-back, afros, brunch, my bed, Rittenhouse Square, cocktails at the Franklin, sushi, 100.3 The Beat, The Phillies, peanut butter!

laundry

My laundry’s been piling up since I got here and for the last week I’ve been crafting a way to ask Amparo if I can use her washing machine that 1) makes sense and 2) is polite. Last night at dinner I finally found my courage.

“Por supuesto (of course) you can! Just put it in the machine when you’re finished eating.”

In the morning, before I could offer any help, Amparo took my clothes off the line and folded them at the kitchen table while I ate cookies.

the u.n. of lost girls

As of last week, there are a few new students at my school. There’s now a German girl who left home with the intention of living here. She’s in Montevideo for three months, until she goes on to Cuba. There’s also a pair of best friends, another Canadian and Kiwi, who have both lived in London for the last nine years. They, like me, are traveling until they’re out of money. They’re all are in the level below the German and I, so they make our Spanish sound really good.