delsheeZOO: day five

being that today marks the end of 2010 and has incidentally been quite busy, i'm going to make up for the lack of pictures in previous posts by dumping a bunch on you now and banking on that whole "a picture's worth a thousand words" thing.

i will share one quick anecdote, however. this morning when i took the pups out for a stroll, we encountered another dog. i had been forewarned to try to avoid other dogs because cassie (big) goes nutto, though the streets are public domain and this cannot always be avoided. so she starts barking ferociously and pulling my entire body in her direction, and in the direction of this other pooch. while i am trying to plant my feet firmly and prevent a suburban so-cal dogfight that would make even michael vick blush, mickey (little) somehow weasels out of his collar (and thus off his leash) and starts running amok in the street. mickey is so feisty (and bad with authority) that even when i open the front door to the house to leave, he tries to sneak out. he's got prison break on his mind. so naturally, a leash-less mickey is not high on my list of priorities this holiday season. i am kind of freaking out. i ask the woman with the other dog, who is just standing still, nestled between two parked cars, to keep her dog back and try to grab mickey. i can't let him escape but also can't let cassie get too close to the other guy. somehow, some angel above decided to do me a solid and let mickey come close enough to me that i could swoop him up under my arm. i then held cassie's leash in one hand and struggled to keep her calm and in the right direction and held mickey under my other arm as we walked for a couple blocks, where cassie decided it was the right time to drop one on the grass. i realize there is no way i am picking up poop while holding one dog under my arm and another one on a leash in the other hand so i somehow get the collar and leash back on mickey and that is settled. let's hope my first morning of 2011 is nothing like the last one of 2010.

without further ado, some photo ops of my animal kingdom:

hermie after his morning spritzer

hermie 2.0

cassie before she tries to ruin my day

sleeping with a dog at my head and a cat at my feet

waking up to mental mickey

kermit knows how to kick it

evidence of crickets floating in the water/does kermit have an eating disorder?

delsheeZOO: day four

what, did you come here expecting big news? no dice, suckers.

it's pretty much more of the same right now. the dogs had a fit last night around 2:00 am when i was in bed and making every attempt to sleep. cassie was running in a small circle. i thought maybe she wanted to go out but since i had zero interest in getting out of bed, going into the cold, and potentially picking up her droppings, i ignored her until she simmered down. mickey is still quite keen on sleeping right next to my head but i don't mind it, as long as he keeps the high-pitched yelping and head twitching to a minimum. i watched another movie last night and mickey assumed the same position, warming my lap, for the entire running time. whenever i have guests over and i set him on their lap, he seems to come back to me. is it possible he actually--gasp--doesn't hate me? this would be huge (pronounced "yooj" like the donald says it).

button, the orange cat, has been sleeping on my feet. between him (her?) and mickey at my head, it is like having a heating blanket. a heating blanket that you have to pray doesn't urinate on you.

i have been collecting some photos but may need to do another shoot before posting. i feel like anne geddes as i try to get these finicky creatures to chill long enough for me to be a paparazzo.

i looked into the floating cricket situation/possible amphibious anorexia. i spotted a dead one in the water as well as one unidentified floating object. i unleashed a few fresh crickets into the tank last night--directly and intentionally onto a dry surface--so this evening when i check the tank inventory i should have a better idea of what is going down in there.

when i visited the crabs this a.m. for their morning pick-me-up, one of them really reached out to me and showed some joie de vivre. i tried to document this on camera, but the clawing got to a bit much to handle while i was switching over to macro and turning off the flash. i hope to have semi-decent photos for you in the coming days.

beyond that, not a whole lot else to report. the litter box still smells, the dogs still don't want me to sleep, the frog is still a frog (and not a prince).

tomorrow will be my halfway mark to the finish line. woo.

delsheeZOO: day three

no pictures today because, well....because. you will have to deal.

here's the latest:

the DOGS:

putting the leashes on to take them out for walks is no small feat. cassie (big) stands up and tries to go all muhammed ali on me. mickey (little) has some kind of mental disorder, i'm pretty sure. i put the leash on him and he tries to run around it and chew at it so that it chokes him. i try to straighten it out but he doesn't help me, flailing around like he's having a seizure.

it's really as fun as it sounds.

the good news is that the poop is happening daily. hallelujah.

this morning i awoke to rain (as well as mickey crawling on my face) and realized i'm ill-equipped for this scenario. do dogs like to be walked in the rain? if they don't, do i take them anyway? if i don't take them anyway, do they poop in the house? if they poop in the woods and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? sorry, i'm being gross. thin line.

so i took them out in the rain and they both did their biz. then en route back to the house a dump truck was collecting garbage and cassie went nuts. she started charging towards the truck and its mechanical growling sound and nearly pulled my tired body to the ground, and the layer of water covering the sidewalk was no help. i thought this was surely going to be my embarrassing demise--a private, early-morning performance for the trash man--but i mustered all the residual strength from within my formerly bulging biceps and balanced out cassie's weight in our very special (wo)man vs. wild tug-of-war game.

last night, mickey and i bonded a bit while watching a movie, "the company men". he laid in my lap and kept me warm--i think he, too, could relate to the challenges of a down economy.

the CATS:

these guys are pretty chillaxed. they sleep in the bedroom with me. they don't bug. the worst thing about them is the godforsaken litter box that stinks up the bathroom. and one of the kitty cats decided it would be cute to kick a bunch of litter onto the floor in a fit of boredom, so that made it a little more exciting for me. hadn't had an opportunity to use a dustpan for a bit, so, thanks for that, guys.

the FROG:

so far, the crickets have cooperated in crawling up the tunnel as they're supposed to. i tap the tube and they drop into the tank. but i have seen a couple dead ones floating around in the water and am slightly concerned that kermit is not eating his recommended daily allowance. does he have an eating disorder? was i supposed to unleash the crickets onto a dry surface so he had more time to get to them and sink his teeth in? does he have teeth? is he waiting for the hot sauce? WHAT AM I DOING WRONG?!?!?!?!

tonight there will be another round of operation cricket drop and i'll reassess kermit's dietary habits.

the CRABS:

after combing the house high and low, the spray bottle was nowhere to be found. was this a test on the part of the house owners to see how i would react in the face of adversity and improvise? if so, well played. but that's also pretty annoying. i went out and bought a new spray bottle. give me a harder one next time! (that's what she said.)

each morning, i pick up the hermits and give 'em a wicked 1-2 spray in the FACE. they poke out a little and say "good morning" to me in french, because that is their native tongue. their food situation is pretty boring--status quo. just a seashell piled up with dry goods. i make sure it's full and they make sure i keep my job.

so there you have it. all eight still seem to be alive. probably eating. occasionally pooping. i will try to get you some more photos but right now i have other priorities, such as investigating the cricket situation and strengthening my arm muscles.

au revoir.

delsheeZOO: day two

rough, long, arduous day dealing with human issues so detailed updates on farmville will be delayed. hopefully tomorrow.

all eight are still alive and kicking. too much kicking, even.

watch this space.

delsheeZOO: day one

i arrived at the house today around noon. the dogs, of course, went nuts. because that's just the kind of confidence booster i need.

it took about 10 minutes to get them to chill out enough for me to put leashes on, though the big one, cassie, clawed at me a bit and tried to take my face off. we went for a brief walk in the hood, with cassie pretty vigorously pulling my bodyweight towards the ground and the little dude, mickey, chewing the purple leash so ferociously that you would've thought you were watching a chocolate cake get attacked by a woman raging with PMS.

cassie opted not to do her business during the walk so there is pretty much a guaranteed numero dos this evening, to which i very much look forward. if it doesn't happen tonight, i will consider roofying her water bowl with some ex-lax.

easy, i said consider.

i checked on kermit (his actual name i'm unaware of) and he seems to be chillin and very much alive. there are, as i anticipated, no crickets in the tubes at this time. i will await nightfall while i hope and pray, but tonight i may have to reach in and pick those jiminy crickets up with my ruthless and agile fingers.

crab #1--the hibernator--is in his cave. nothing to report there.

crabs #2 & #3 i picked up to look at--one kind of reached his legs (claws?) out and the other was in the middle of napping i guess, as hermits tend to do. when i went to reach for the spray bottle to perk the guys up with some DELICIOUS PURIFIED MOUNTAIN SPRING WATER i noticed that the spray bottle is not where it was supposed to be. i combed the whole house, twice, and didn't find it. this may be an issue.

the cats are just getting into their cat shenanigans, acting like celebutantes not wanting to pose for photos, and seem to have eaten most of their breakfast serving of câté. i expect one of them will be sleeping with me tonight. not because i invited him, but because he will be drunk and lonely. and i just can't say no.

old mcdelsheez had a farm

as a result of a serendipitous run-in with a former neighbor, i have stumbled upon a week-long house sitting gig this holiday season. commencing tomorrow, i will not only be holding down the family fort but also tending to a residential zoo. the herd includes: two dogs (one large, one small--yes, that's as specific as i get), two cats (one homebody, one adventurer), three hermit crabs (one in hibernation, two on the prowl), and one frog (because... of course there is).

my childhood was a fine one, but not heavy on the petting. we had a coop in the backyard that at one point housed a chicken, and at another time a rabbit. the gaps in time were filled with a hamster, occasional tadpoles, and the quintessential, minimal-interaction fish tank. never once in there do i consciously recall dealing with the numbers 1 & 2: pee-double-oh & pee-double-e.

i am not overwhelmingly equipped for this job.

but what am i if not a person willing to welcome bizarre challenges into my life? if i classify something an experiment then all of a sudden it's kind of interesting.

so here's the breakdown:

the dogs need to be walked twice a day, but one only likes to hang out in the backyard and the other only likes the street. one of them is also apparently a bit mental and has beef with other neighborhood canines. this one has a complex harness that attaches to his leash, though it has been explained to me that it's too complicated so i shouldn't worry about it. i'm already worried. i will obviously need to pick up and dispose of the excrement. i'll need to let them into the house at the right time, not let them out at the wrong time. they have dry food and water and treats and emotional issues, all of which i am completely unfamiliar with, quite like the language of mandarin. but if i need to learn it, i will learn it. nee how ma?

the cats (whose species i have never been particularly trusting nor fond of) require a specific serving size of wet food twice daily in separate (but equal) dishes as well as dry food and water. one of them goes rogue from time to time, trying to solve crimes in the 'hood or perhaps having a tryst with a sassy feline from around the way. he will eventually come back to the den by way of an enclosed patio where i will need to go call or whistle for him (not my strong suit) around sunset. the other is allegedly much more chilled out and stays inside the house but has taken up an angry habit lately of pissing in unofficial locations. the house owners informed me that the two distinct types of litter in the two different boxes are intended to help solve this reckless urination epidemic. we will see about that. now, the litter boxes are kept in one of the bathrooms. the door to this room cannot ever be closed or obstructed or else they will not have a clear pathway to their VIP WC. the cats will apparently sometimes hide behind doors, in nooks, in bedroom crevices, and i should not close the doors while they're in there. but likewise i should not leave room doors open for fear that they will opt to drop their business as a pleasant post-xmas gift for me. the door situation poses another challenge.

the hermit crabs are located in two different tanks, in two different rooms. one guy is hibernating in some kind of fleece sleeping bag (from north face?) and needn't be bothered, just requires his food stocked and water filled. the other two guys are a bit more interesting: in addition to needing an ample supply of dry food in their dish and water to drink, they need to be picked up daily by hand and sprayed head-on with special purified water. i am perhaps the most excited about this.

the last of the clan is the frog. this dude intrigues me. i feel like maybe i will relate to him most, but this will be confirmed over time. frogger here eats live crickets (which of course also require their own tank and food source). in the cricket tank there are two circular openings, one on each side. in those openings fit diagonally two hollow plastic cylinders with small caps on the outside. the idea is that, during the day, some of the crickets will climb up into the tube and just kick it there. when it is feeding time for kermit, i will pull out one of the cylinders, checking to ensure there are a few guys inside, and then hold the tube over the frog tank and tap the cap on top so they fall out the open end. to their death they plummet, as the frog is recharged and ready to take on the day. kumbaya, the circle of life. in the event that they opt not to climb into the tube that particular day (which the house owners assured me will not happen) i will just need to reach my hand into the cricket tank and grab the bastards with my tweezer-like fingers. no problem, right? no problem.

so there you have it. that's the rundown of my life for the next eight squares on the calendar. i can only pray that these animals last all eight days (and then some) like the miraculous oil of hanukkah.

stay tuned for the play-by-play and perhaps some genuine photographic evidence.

yours truly,

the farmer in the del(sheez)

i like my movies like i like my steaks: bloody

"127 hours", a newspaper headline told me weeks ago, would be the next film from director danny boyle. i didn't even know what or where these hours were, but i knew i was eagerly awaiting that very discovery.

boyle, the architect behind "slumdog millionaire", "trainspotting", and another handful of varied and skillfully crafted works, had already earned a certain level of my trust.

i read on.

this was to be the story--true story--of a rock climber in utah who becomes caught, quite literally, "between a rock and a hard place" (the aptly titled memoir on which the film is based) and eventually frees himself by amputating his own arm. intense, i thought. i could dig this. and aron ralston, the adventurer, was being portrayed by james franco.

now i'll say this much: i have always been fond of franco. surely his face does not hinder this, but it extends far past the superficial. from his relaxed high school charm in the short-lived judd apatow tv series "freaks & geeks" to his mainstream action spotlight in "spider-man" and his endearing step outside the box in "milk", he is genuinely likable, versatile, and seems to convey some level of depth. further research would show that sir james is actually one of the most driven, complex, and fascinating young actors in the game. between attending graduate school, having his short stories published, and pursuing seemingly countless other side-gigs, it's a wonder he has time to not only be present for his film career, but to give it his all. this guy doesn't sleep. he seems to fulfill himself by filling each hour of the day with something that keeps his mind engaged and always guessing. but why all this business about franco? only for the purpose of convincing you how there couldn't possibly be a better guy to take on such a feat.

once the movie was released in l.a., i was on a mission to go, asap. i walked into the theater already knowing that a few early audience members had not fared so well in the viewing. i had heard of a seizure and some vomiting, but i was convinced that, being (in my opinion) rather desensitized to violence and gore, i would do just fine. i was curious, though, to see if this was going to be the thing to push me over the brink. bring it on, boyle. let's see this. get as nasty as you wanna.

but enough of the background. you want the juice, i get it.

now, if the entire movie is one hour + thirty five minutes, i would guess that a full hour of that is spent down in a crevice with ralston, anticipating the inevitable. therein lies the trouble. immediately upon him becoming trapped, i found myself tightening up my chest, almost forgetting to breathe normally. i continually pestered myself to take the air in and out of my lungs. something about the panic of seeing this man (whose outcome you, in the first few moments of the film, are already deeply invested in) locked into an excruciating and nearly impossible situation makes it difficult to kick back and watch calmly as it unfolds. you feel for him, you like the guy, you don't even want to fathom switching places with him. so instead you sit there and put your energy into him, hoping that it will somehow give him the strength and motivation to watch the sun rise and set over his earthy abode one more time.

it may sound as though the meat of the film is a slow-moving, fish-tank-like observation of ralston sweating out the five days of his predicament. but that's where the artist danny boyle (with credit to his co-writer simon beaufoy) comes back into play, dancing in and out with visual stunners, narrative complexity, and comic relief.

i don't want to spill too many more of the beans before you sit through the adventure for yourself, but i imagine you're eager to know the dish on the gore. the truth is, i expected worse. but maybe i always do. it was certainly tolerable, but i can imagine how for many, it wouldn't be. there will be cringing and there will be blood, but don't let this prevent you from experiencing the rush of inspiration, cinematic artistry, and contemplation this film brings. if your own tolerance concerns you, have a look at this guide to the exact times to bury your eyes in your sleeve and arm yourself (not a pun, that would be in poor taste) accordingly.

beyond that, there's really not too much i want to say about the specifics within the film--you need to do the dirty work yourself. but promise me you will give it a go and won't be put off by the buzz of it being unwatchable due to ralston's few moments of torturous emancipation.

we don't truly know how we'll behave in a situation until we're in it, and "127 hours" gives us the chance to dwell in the trenches with one man confronting that harsh realization. he's done all the legwork; the least you can do is watch, right?

loco for taco

i'm exceptionally into tacos lately. i mean, the mexican food genre has arguably been my lifeblood for 28 years. burritos ranked highest, nachos were a late-night go-to or a superbowl staple, and the tamales, enchiladas and taquitos of the gang were mostly reserved as lazy freezer inventory, with a special thanks to trader joe, my homie for life.

but everyone goes through phases; we know this. you decide you prefer skinny jeans to boot-cut. or you're gonna start drinking green tea and cut back on the red bulls (very how zen of you). so this may be nothing more than a personal food fad, but the simplicity of a naughty little corn tortilla with a mix of crazy items smushed inside is topping my list of not only edible options but pastimes as well. on how many occasions have you been asked by a friend, "what do you wanna do tonight?", responded with, "uhh, let's get tacos", and been denied? exactly. taconsumption as a leisure activity is a cut above the rest and it's going to win 8 or 9 times out of ten.

and anyone who knows me well enough is aware of my carnivorous inclinations, but let the record show that i am not pushing meats here. the beauty of the taco is that it is a hospitable environment for just about anything. if you aren't fiending for dead animals, stuff it with frijoles and soy chorizo, i don't care. just make this magic happen--fast, cheap, and out of control.

¡buen provecho!

euphony, euphoria

sounds and bass, harmony, clap, the sizzle of the rhythm tells me how to feel. i paint myself into a film, sitting on a train, looking at meaningless trees and considering the who and the what of me, and why i ate so many fries. without these wicked notes dancing in and out of my ears i would be so plain. they don't define me, but they enrich me. for each mood, there is a complex string of aural insanity, arrhythmia, syncopation, tranquility. through my veins, into my lungs, coming out through the bottoms of my feet when i walk along the sand where it's packed tightly with saltwater.

it can hype me up, chill me out, cool me down, diffuse frustration, temper rage and make my head bounce. i sink into molten metal, cover the surface of everything i see. the wind abusing the palm fronds looks like a drum swish and a toe tap. the heat pulsing through headlights at dusk is the reminder of a sweaty dance floor.

a devious dj puts his fingers in your head and plays around. seek the magic: a violin of spine-tingling remorse, a drum of cultural chaos, a guitar twang of porch swings and swaying fields of the country, a legendary electro crescendo, turning ordinary into white hot.

fill the space with reverb and tone, fill it all up until it spills over. until you feel that all the air inside you is gone and has been replaced with this floating enigmatic eruption of sound.

and then you're there.

three strikes, you're out

have we gotten to the point in our courting code that everything is expected upfront, like a down payment on a car? or is it the same as it's always been yet more out in the open now? in the old school days, did people assume they were going to get down (or at least see some skin) right off the bat? is it history's own conspiracy to cover up rampant promiscuity in an attempt to maintain dignity and a sense of composure for the ages, or was it really more tame circa, say, the 18th century?

we now have this tug-o-war with taking the pants off that becomes frustrating and also a bit expository (figuratively). the guy doesn't have much patience--this much we know. he can handle paying for a lady's caesar salad only a couple times before he feels entitled to the goods, and simultaneously, no matter how game she is, she's playing the can't-put-out-too-soon-or-he'll-think-i'm-a-hussy game. she eats her salad, sips her appletini, and then maybe he'll get to first (whatever that is) and the chances that she'll give it up before he gives up are slim to none, and there goes that "relationship".

so now what? people getting down on the first date is nothing new, but is that now the norm? why do ladies inherently care about feelings and all that mush when men are in it for the nookie and, most often, nothing more? how exactly are we hard-wired that these things can't be altered without severe intervention from the brain, telling us to think/act differently? i have to believe that it'd be so much simpler to be able to turn these responses on and off like a control panel, but unfortunately it ain't that way. i hear about guys getting all caught up on some hot mama and they start freaking out and THINKING about things (with their brains!) and i realize that the roles we pretend to inhabit aren't always exactly the same on the inside. yes, many a lady gets in over her head by romanticizing something that just shouldn't be, but boys do this too. even men. it is amazing to see, because then i sit and think to myself how hard you guys must work sometimes to perpetuate the i-don't-give-a-f*** attitude. and yes, i know that maybe 8 times outta 10 you genuinely don't give-a, but those 2 times, oh man, they are killers.

bi-continental breakfast

i was here, i was there, and now i'm here, once again, in the sometimes glorious, always controversial u.s. of a.

truth is, i've been back for several weeks. i just never quite knew how to tell you.

before my seven months south of the border (heyo!) i had left my post in the fog city and schlepped my numerous unnecessary belongings to southern california, where the sun almost always shines (and when it doesn't people go mental). now that the adventures in beans & rice are over, i reside in loss anjeleez. i spend my time doing a variety of things, among them: attempting to get cultured, drinking tea, convincing people that walking is a suitable means of transport and a worthy pastime, eating tacos, and looking for the delsheeziest job-like thing to rock me into a new dimension.

beyond that, what would be excellent and earn me five stars (awarded from myself) is if i would get into a blogging rhythm that would far surpass my recent output, making verbal internet magic on a regular basis. this would bring joy both to me and to the readers. so i guess that means to me and my mom.

words, sentences, paragraphs--there is really so much potential to dance all over the psyche of anyone literate enough to partake. and dance i shall.

above the equator and climbing

well of course it's been about a month since i last wrote. that is so like me.

but listen to this: i have been in ecuador over a month now, after a week in montañita, close to three weeks in cuenca, a few days in baños, and a week in the otavalo mountains. in this time i have been in a mosh pit, a mormon baptism, and started writing my novel. my novel? yes, my novel. (you'll have to wait for details. i guess this is me dangling a carrot. deal.)

i have been loving the world cup madness. i have even set my alarm on a saturday to be up and showered for a 9:00 am match. yes, you are right--i don't follow american soccer at all but i'm not ashamed of this discrepancy. i enjoy having something to keep up with, sports-wise. it's one of my favorite pass times when i'm at home in the states and it shouldn't be any different on the road. so i found my thing, and it won't come around for another thousand-some-odd days, so let me have it, please?

ecuador has been nothing short of excellent. it has taught me some slang words i'll never use again and it has likewise continued to test my threshold for rice consumption. i have become very comfortable in this culture and yet i'm ready to walk across the frontera to a different country with its own set of awkward, wild, weird, and epic adventures.

tomorrow morning i am putting my life in the hands of fate, an unknown bus driver, and the colombian stereotypes, and getting aboard a bus from the north of ecuador to popoyan, colombia. after nearly two months of companionship, i am on a solo mission once again. hopefully someone who wants me to finish my novel will watch over me. with any luck, the only misfortune that awaits me is spilling food on myself, which i am not only good at, but borderline professional.

hasta next time, amigos.

ecuador: the pursuit of do-gooder ish (and everything before)

oh-la.

lots has happened since our last run-in. but one could also argue that not much at all has happened, and you'll soon see what i mean. such is the beauty of travel.

after my last post, ellen and i went on a four day trek to machu picchu. in true delsheez fashion, i did something stupid on the first day (downhill mountain biking) and messed up my knee (will spare you the embarrassing details but let's just say i got cocky and obviously that was going to be my downfall, no pun intended), but i continued the three days of trekking that followed and those days were quite sweaty and rewarding. climbing 1000-some-odd stairs in pitch dark at 4:00 am to reach the top of the storied ancient incan ruins just in time for the sun to come up and the sweat to stop seeping out the pores is an experience i will not bother assigning meaningless words to. but the icing on the cake-type-thing was that the climb to the top of huayna picchu (the peak seen in all pictures that is completely mental and, again, entirely made of steps) was completely insane and, quite simply, so cool.

after returning from our AWEsome trek, we spent another couple days kicking around cusco and vegging in the most amazing hostel beds yet (shout out: pariwana!) and then we set out on a cruise up the coast, stopping in lima for a quick day and night (which was better than i expected but didn't seem to warrant a longer stay), and then continuing on to huanchaco, a quiet little overcast beach town where we stayed at a family-run hostel and were provided with amazing food and hammocks so, needless to say, i was in love. it was in huanchaco (about nine days after the biking incident en route to machu picchu) that i finally realized my knee was infected. an englishman living in the town kindly took pity on me and spent the afternoon with me waiting in a quasi-hospital (along with a nun and a soldier) to have it looked at. after the doctor scraped the living sh*t out of my skin, he bandaged it up and gave me a five day course of antibiotics. buzz. kill. i decided that i would start the drugs mañana so that at least i could have a beer to kick off my imposed sobriety. huanchaco was a great place, but it couldn't last forever, and we don't (yet) surf, so we decided to move on. the family was so welcoming that we never wanted to leave. but after four days of literally doing almost nothing at all (i promise you), we set out to catch a bus north and it was so sad to say goodbye. thankfully we will never forget mama mccallum (the name comes from her scottish father) because she gifted us a small blue paperback copy of the new testament so that we can "practice spanish". mmhmm.

last stop on the peruvian coastal voyage was mancora. we stayed at loki, a crazy party hostel that looks like a backpacker club med, equipped with pool, bar, beach access, and 24/7 debauchery. it's hard to explain how or why, but this is a strange place. nothing really happens, but people stay forever, it seems, spend way too much money, and annihilate their livers. kind of like vegas, but with a real beach, at least. like huanchaco, we did nothing, but at least the sun was out so my tan was resuscitated from the brazilian days of yore. for the first few nights, the party scene proved slightly challenging on my willpower as i was on the wagon, consuming only water and my stinky pills. but just in time for a full moon party down the beach, i was back in the swing once again. a few more of those nights and we needed to get the hell out while we were still sound of mind and semi-alive.

after one more beautiful mancorian sunset, we set out to cross the border and woke up in montañita, ecuador. what a charming f'ing town, though a bit pricey. surfers and hippies and the same travelers we'd met seven times over. rarely any sun, but it didn't much matter. beach-front room with a hammock chair and a kitchen. i read about 300 pages in two days (which for me is something for the books, thanks, stieg larsson) and we kicked around town with some washingtonian hostel neighbors and a hilarious englishman i'd met a few times before. at night we'd visit "cocktail alley", where we would get fresh fruit libations for as low as $2 from our favorite barman, el tigre. we would run into the same people about 60 times a day, and it was starting to feel like we lived there. again, a sign that it's time to move on, no?

so that brings us to here and now. cuenca, ecuador. just secured a room for $5/night, and committed to a week, but will probably stay longer. the mama of the house cooks breakfast and lunch for $2 each so that is already sounding too easy. this is a charming colonial town (third largest city in ecuador, though undoubtedly with more to offer than guayaquil or quito, unless you are in the business of crime, organized or disorganized) with a plaza and some of those cute little indigenous women with braids. back in real south america again, i think. so we are on the hunt for a some good volunteer work and also some spanish lessons. though my comprehension of the language has improved dramatically on this voyage, i am seeking improvement. basically, we wanna do good: for the people who need us, and for us. it's a selfless and selfish mission all in one. but then again, people say that if you better yourself, you better the world. ok, i am too cheesy now and must stop. but we have some leads on programs and are hoping to lock it down on the morrow and finally put a stop to our do-nothingness (though it was truly amazing--in the most slothful way--while it lasted).

anyone whose eyes do grace this page, i thank you for your time, patience, interest, all those good things you give me while i give you very little. my current frequency of writing is about once a month, which is truly an embarrassment to myself and my family, but i have not promised anything greater and so i mustn't apologize. you come around when you come around, and so do i, and that's what makes our relationship thrive. it's thriving, can't you feel it?

until we meet again, suerte.

hello, it's me, from under a peruvian rock

i am the WORST!

but, look, even at my most slacker, i update you after a month and that's not the most embarrassing thing i've done. far from it.

so, hi. i'm in cusco, peru now. but i've been to many places since my last typo-laden update from santa cruz, bolivia. i conquered that country, i'll say. almost a month there and hit up so many spots: sucre ("the white city"), uyuni & the salt flats, potosi ("highest city in the world") & the mines, la paz (which is completely mental), rurrenabaque jungle boogie, copacabana & lake titicaca... and now you'll find me here, moments away from biking, trekking, and riding my way to the legendary machu picchu.

i love stringing words together (in an attempt) to make magic, yet i don't make enough time for it. will i remember all i do here without laying it down with the pad and pen (or, more realistically, the internet)? the photographic evidence does wonders to cache the stories and jump start the memory, but will i ever bother to sit down and tell the tale of my journeys, despite how cliché and overdone this sort of thing is? i can't even bring myself to crack the spine of "eat, pray, love" though i'm sure its scribe had an adventure worth documenting that i know has been well-received by many a bus-rider in SF and beyond.

so where does that leave us? talking about nothing yet something? you're in luck; this is my specialty. and maybe i will get my shit together soon enough to write more. but for now, here is my deal: chillin in cusco with my cali lady ellen g, then heading to machu picchu on thurs, then up to the coast of peru for much-craved beach time, then up to ecuador, colombia, and the sky's the limit from there.

sorry for the silence. or, if you are tired of me, then you're quite welcome. facebook is plastered with updates and photos so run over there and get your fixxx.

see you when i pop up next.

A D I O $

back in the spanish saddle

hola, all.

sorry for my absence. yeah, yeah, i say that all the time. it ain't easy keeping up with this on the road. internet and free time are both unreliable, and i get swept up in the daily life on the journey is anything but predictable.

three fantastic (though not without some obstacles) weeks in brazil have passed and i am now in santa cruz, bolivia. i didn't intend to spend more than a few hours here but, as luck (or lack of planning) would have it, there is no decent bus (if i don't opt for the ¨first class¨option, i will be sitting next to chickens and defecating humans, or so i've been warned) to sucre until at least tomorrow, if not monday, so i am chillin in the cruz with some israelis who have kind of adopted me. (i arrived at the airport in santa cruz last night at 1 am and intend to await sunrise there but quickly decided this was a shitty option and, as soon as i recognized two israelis froma previous encounter somewhere in argentina, i started talking to them, asked where they were shacking up, and hopped in a cab with them.)

but backing up a moment, let me say that brazil is quite a place, and the people are beautiful, passionate, exuberant, though largely unable to communicate in any language other than their own. that was a minimal challenge, but i got by alright. the beaches, for the most part, were stunning in beauty and devoid of too many turistas. i loved being in a bathing suit all the time, not wearing shoes or makeup, drinking tropical juice cocktails and eating salgados (empanadas, sort of) while walking down the street. i could have had better weather (the rio flood was one for the books), but i will keep that in mind when planning my return trip, which i certainly will be taking as i now have a 5 yr visa to call my own.

so here i am in santa cruz, bolivia. i had a cab driver today take me to the bus station while we chatted the whole way (en español) and then upon getting there i realized i didn't have proper change to pay him. so i asked if he'd wait for me and could drive me back. he waited about 15 minutes, took me back to my hostel, and didn't charge me anything extra for the wait. i didn't even want to say goodbye! i love marco. other than that, not much to do here, but it's not so bad. i intend to get some things done if i can. launder some clothes, get some sleep, spend less money than brazil, maybe learn some more hebrew. from here i plan to hit up sucre which i know little about but i enjoy having minimal expectations. someone tells me to go, and i go. simple as that. also will probably go to potosi and then to uyuni for the storied salt flats tour. after that, north to la paz and then maybe lake titicaca and/or the jungle before crossing over to peru.

i still have no idea what to do with my life. surprise? i don't know where i want to live when i come back, i don't know how i'll manage any kind of job and/or routine, i don't know what i'll do when i have all of my clothes and shoes again and don't see a need for them. life on the road is a strange beast. nothing makes sense anymore, nothing outside the frame of this experience at least. nothing is standard, redundant, recognizable. it's all new, even if it's happened before.

where will all of this land me? who the f knows. but for now, i am still going. there are definite dips in mood and luck--sometimes i wonder what the hell i'm doing. but then the highs validate those other moments that are less sweet. for anyone who has never done this though, i want you to know that it is not a VACATION. it is stressful and uncomfortable at times. you have to think fast and sacrifice and be miserable here and there to get to where you want to be (both literally and figuratively). i mean, look at me. i'm kinda crazy for doing this, but i'm here. and i dig that.

not my proudest entry--i haven´t even made a good joke or pun or even proofread--but i wanted to drop some updates on you so there they is.

here's some boliviano lovc for ya.

PAZ.

BRAZen in the sun

oi!

and also, oy. i'm such a slacker. somehow i made it through two full weeks in buenos aires and then up to iguazu falls followed by a border crossing to brazil and i haven't written anything so that my 1.5 followers can keep up on my whereabouts. shameful. now i find myself in florianopolis, brazil and have loved loafing in the sun, tanning my feet, drinking passion fruit vodka smoothies. i find it hard to sit inside on a computer when there is life to live outside (those of you reading this from your desk chair are probably thinking, "tell me about it", so let this motivate you to do something about that!) so i will need to find a good opportunity in the (near?) future to tell some anecdotes from the recent past and some of the goings-on of my mind. but for now, i must go back outside to sit in the early evening drizzle, stick my feet in the pool, and contemplate showering (only to put on dirty clothes right after).

please don't chuck me in the bin just yet. i'll be back around faster than you can say desculpa.

beijos.

how do you say "cliffs notes" in spanish?

yola.

many adventures since my last update so i will skim through it all and get ya up to speed. bear with, por favor.

mendoza turned out to be crazy cool and lots of fun (despite my turbulent digestive region). what this reinforced was that a huge factor in the enjoyment of any given location--especially when journeying solo--is the strangers you meet along the way. through my hostel i came to link up with a few young argentine girls, and a mixed clan of boys from just about every english-speaking nation. we picnicked in the park, went to the movies ("sherlock holmes" with subtitulos en español), attended an intra-hostel asado (heaps of meat on a grill and sketchy tequila), and so on. one of the days, two american guys and i rented bikes and went on a wine-tasting tour, evading death-by-truck on the open road and singing "my humps" and other classy pop songs aloud while coasting through tunnels of tall trees. the night i left for chile, we all cooked a family farewell dinner (asian stir fry followed by brownies & ice cream!) and i left loving mendoza.

after mendo i ventured back to chile (border crossing is not the pinnacle of excitement, i will say) since i had cut it short the first time and missed out on valparaiso. when i arrived, the weather was gloomy (reminiscent of the thing i miss least about SF) and the town, at first glance, looked like the slums out of some documentary about prostitutes who, say, learn how to knit and quit the biz. i had been forewarned multiple times about the incidence of crime in this town so i was sketched from the moment i got off the bus. i had planned to stay with a girl from couchsurfing (named clementine, likely a transplant from france, also incidentally a part-time clown who juggles at the traffic lights in nearby resort town viña del mar--enough red flags for you?), but she had become a bit flaky via email and i could not confirm a time to meet so, in my early morning fog, i sought out a hostel that luckily had room and hunkered down. i was in a bit of a funk and everyone at the hostel seemed to be checking out so i was wondering how i would spend my day and turn my salty mood around.

luckily, thanks to my wonderful friend amanda who loves to connect people, i had been in touch with a girl named sabrina, also from cali, who is in the midst of a year-long voyage with her boyfriend (both on hiatus from advertising as well). i met up with sabrina and reece and, just like some heavy-handed cinematic metaphor, the sun came out. literally. we ate lunch and took one of the town's famous funiculars up to the top of a hill to walk the streets and scope the views and walls painted with epic artistry. this is my kind of museum. word. sabrina and reece were so much fun--within an hour or so we were warmed up as if having known each other for far longer, making countless inappropriate jokes, curving around the alley streets, and finally ending up at a "disco" for dinner. (their hostel had organized this: tons of meat, potatoes, and veggies are thrown in a huge paella-like metal dish over fire and cooked in wine.) the next couple says were spent with them and also some fresh imports at my hostel (all guys, american, british, and german) venturing through the hills to see old condemned prisons, quaint arty streets, a nightclub, and a quick trip to viña del mar for a stroll at the beach before sunset. oh, and i escaped with all my belongings and didn't get assaulted so my record is looking good so far.

i left valpo on a bus with the american boys (from montana) and returned to santiago (where i started my trip) for one last day. i had wanted to connect some family friends of my mom who i had missed the first time through, and, as luck would have it, they were all convening for a birthday celebration my one night in town. but first, a guy from couchsurfing, boris, who i had met a couple weeks back and taken a walk with, offered to put me up at his family's house for the night and i gladly accepted. they lived a bit out of the city center but boris was happy to drive me anywhere i needed. such a score. i met his whole family and they were so kind and hospitable, offering tea, bread (god, please, no more bread), and wanted to see pictures of my family. i love these people. i then set out for the other family gathering where i would have otherwise felt rather out of place (mostly chilean women in their 60s) but they were so welcoming and happy to meet me. i admittedly missed the humor of some of their jokes as their spanish is rapid fire and laden with local vernacular, but all in all i had a wonderful evening and it was interesting to see how the chilean life is in the realest sense. when hostelling and hanging with fellow travellers, it is easy to miss out on that huge other aspect of the native culture so i was happy to have a peek.

earlier in the day i had opted to buy a bus from santiago back to mendoza for friday morning and would just wing it and hope to get right on another bus from mendoza to buenos aires. the buses in argentina seem to be much more plush and posh than in chile and i wanted to ensure i had "cama" (seats that are wide and recline pretty far) and food service for my overnight journey to BA (instead of just booking a direct bus from santiago to BA which was likely pretty shitty and nearly as expensive, and didn't leave until saturday). well, my plan went off without a hitch. i got to mendoza, went to book a ride to BA and found they only had "semi-cama" (a glamorous term for a seat which reclines slightly and doesn't remotely resemble a bed and is squished very closely to the stranger next to you who very well may smell or be unaware of how far their elbows extend) or first class, but no cama. it turned out that first class cost only about $12 US more than cama so i figured, "f*ck it, let's do this" (the only foreseeable downside being that i may never be able to ride anything lesser again).

wow, this bus was so legit. the seats fully recline and have a foot-rest that comes straight out to align with the seat. i mean, this guy can actually can pretend it's a bed! big fleece blanket, no one even remotely close to me, personal space curtains, wine, champagne, hot beef meal, adorable french canadian neighbor-boys (which are not part of the standard service, i'd imagine, but a lovely amenity nonetheless), decent movies, WIFI!!! so yeah, i'm kind of in love. but one of the things the wifi provided me was the onslaught of concerned emails from people who had just heard of the massive 8.8 earthquake near santiago (and tsunami warning) and were concerned i was still there, perhaps buried under rubble (though i imagine my gregory™ backpack would be just fine, as this thing can endure anything, or so claim the guys at REI). first of all, i was feeling extra grateful that i just happened to take that first santiago bus instead of waiting for the next day service to BA. a little too "sliding doors", really, but great luck nonetheless. i will say that, man, it feels nice to have so many people wanting to know i am safe and sound and that are even aware enough of where i am or may be. in a seemingly self-centered world, it's a beautiful sign that people are real and caring. so, big ups to all of you for that.

i am now sitting in a hostel lobby in BA, waiting for sarah (my friend from the states and bariloche cohort) to wake up so we can situate ourselves somewhere and i can begin my tenure here. i know a few friends who have recently moved here, as well as a few travellers who are passing through, so i should be able to keep busy for a while. it's such a big city with so many barrios and so much to see, and i need a break from switching proverbial area codes every 3 days, so i plan to nest in BA for a couple weeks and see what comes.

big love--AMOR--from the land of empanadas. keep rockin.

on the mend in mendo

so, onda azul (the storied israeli farm), amidst all of its charm and chill, managed to poison me with some kind of vicious stomach virus upon my departure yesterday which surely made for a lovely 16 hour bus journey north.

i arrived early this morning in mendoza and now seem to be able to consume bits of bread so i take that as a genius sign that i may be eating meats and cheeses in the foreseeable future. my hostel is small and pretty quiet but its charm is growing on me. that said, i have opted to move tomorrow to a more lively spot nearby which seems better suited for the solo traveller and has a nice outdoor patio, etc.

at first walk/glance, mendoza seems quite nice. reminds me a bit of spain, but maybe that is an ignorant (or obvious?) assessment. nevertheless, i strolled through a few nice plazas and snapped some photos. its sticky and hot here, but knowing that it's winter in the northern hemisphere makes me appreciate the warmth (tho via facebook i have come to learn that today feels like summer in cali anyway).

one thing i will say about this place is that the drivers WILL run you over if youre in their way. so, best of luck to me on that front. perhaps tomorrow my stomach will be ready for some wine-touring and adventuring. also considering some cabalgatas (horseback riding) but we'll see what opportunities present themselves. knowing me i might just end up walking in circles for hours and eating in between.

keep it real stateside, friends.

chao.

hola with a side of shalom

hey people,

just a quick hello to help you triangulate my position. i was just in bariloche (lake district of argentina) with my friend sarah from the states. beautiful natural surroundings, quaint alpine ski town. we enjoyed the sun, recruited a new yorker and did a short hike to a stellar viewpoint, then the next day rented a car and took a 360 km drive around the ¨7 lagos¨. yesterday the three of us arrived on an israeli farm outside el bolson (couple hours south of bariloche) and will need to write more later to effectively describe this place but for now i will just say that i forgot i was in SA within 10 minutes of being here. aside from a few austrians and one other american, everyone else is israeli. there is a lake nearby and we may bike over to check it out. otherwise, we are chillin, doin nothin, eating hummus. will be in touch but just wanted to pop my head up so my status of being alive is still intact.

shalom shalom.

chile relleno

yesterday, i left my hostel and continued on with my couchsurfing host, aldemar, and his lovely lady, lorena. they are both colombian but met here in chile. the took me on a walk around town in the blazing sun and then to a big enclosed fish market which has a sort of restaurant inside. i had requested some standard chilean food so we sat down and ordered three things: pastel de choclo (typical chilean dish--a bit like a sheppards pie i suppose but with a cornmeal pudding on top instead of potatoes), pastel de something (a stewy pudding type thing filled with crab and topped with parmesan and lemon juice; sounds heinous but tastes good), and chupe de loco (a thick stew as well but with chunks of funky-flavored loco fish which resembles snail or octopus and is no friend of mine). i have listed them in the order of preference so please take note.

after eating we were too full to do any more consumption, so we took a walk to see some funky hoods. if i used words like "charming" and "delightful", that's how i'd describe the area of lastarria. people selling their art and wares on the sidewalk, tables lining the street and filled with people enjoying the sun and tastes of the barrio, just f'ing precious. we decided to break for something refreshing, and their friends visiting from valparaiso met up with us. chile seems to have heaps of fresh juices going on. i like this. we all ordered a glass of maracuja juice (which i have just now concluded in passion fruit) and sat at tables along the sidewalk talking about how spanish words in different countries mean completely different things (e.g., coger which means "to take, grasp, catch" in one place, and to "f*ck" in another. dangerous territory, i say. i don't plan on trying to remember which is which and will omit this word from my vocab. (this happened in italy once when i was traveling around with my friend jess. i was trying to soak up some extremely random words to aid in conversation and came to absorb both pazzo and cazzo; one means "crazy" where the other means "d*ck", or something to that effect. needless to say, i definitely used the wrong one when attempting to casually address a silly man on the street, and we ended up running away before i got us into even more trouble.) after a heavily english-free day, my mind was beginning to turn on itself and get confused by even the simplest phrases. immersion is surely the way to go, though mentally exhausting. i give myself two weeks to start convincing people i am not a gringa, so stay tuned for findings on this.

after our juice date, we returned to the house to chill and do some internetting (i checked the score of the super bowl but it was just after kick-off and showed a lead for the colts which, i now know, was not indicative of the outcome--woot woot, lil weezy!) the sun is out til about 9:00 here which is a bit disorienting as i am used to the little bit of gloomy winter cali light disappearing somewhere around 4:30 pm. we ventured back out for a walk around 11:00--i wanted to check out the boho/sceney bellavista neighborhood so we head that way, discovering some stellar graffiti/wall art en route. (i have some pictures, but those will be going up on facebook instead since google's photo-blog-inclusion-system is truly lacking. yeah, you heard me.) many places in bellavista were closed because it was sunday, but we ended up in "the patio" which was a beautifully laid out courtyard of open-air bars and eateries. seemed to have a fair share of tourists which i typically am soured by (am i even allowed to say that? who do i think i am?) but in this instance it worked for me. we ended up at a table at a colombian bar, ordered some pisco sours and a plate of colombian snacks, and enjoyed the live music from the guitarra man inside. after that, we walked back and called it a night.

all in all, chile is off to a nice start. since i paid a mandatory entry fee of $130, i am factoring that into my daily costs and making an increased effort to budget, so there's no telling how long my funds will last me. but right now i'm just going with it and trying to balance the frugality with the festivities. today i am meeting another guy from couchsurfing who wants to show me some more santiago, and then later on convening with aldemar and lorena again for some evening camaraderie with the colombian imports.

oh and one last thing: this daily blogging is not gonna last. so don't you start expecting things and then give me mierda when i fall off. i'm telling it straight right now.

hasta luego.

santiago-go-go!

hola a thousand times over, dear friends.

now, in am attempt to at least start off with good intentions, i bring you sudamerica blog entry numero uno, which promises no grandeur, eloquence, or intense revelation, but more so just a chance for me to outstretch my hand and tell you how i'm gonna give this thing a shot, but a different kind of shot this time. im gonna strive to get less caught-up in feeling obligated to provide such even-spread detail and put forth a greater effort to slam my updates on the internet's face with a bit of regularity, even if they turn out to be lacking in wit, structure, even editing.
this tripped me up before, so much so that i more or less ceased to write entirely, which brought about great shame and guilt (and i know what you're thinking--being jewish, i must be quite used to that by now), but that's not how this is supposed to go down. things will happen or not happen, and i will tell you some and leave some holes so that our futures can consist of sidebar conversations and delayed revelations.

all that garbage being said, let's get you up to speed. by way of lima, i arrived in santiago this morning. hyperbole has never been so needed as now when i tell you that this day feels as though it consisted of 86 hours. arriving at the airport at 6:30 am with no more than 20 minutes sleep (and some weird "breakfast" in my tank), i then found my way to my hostel, showered, met some girls from santa cruz en route back to the states, bought some snacks at the market, coordinated dates and accommodations for the next week, wrote and allegedly posted a blog entry that seems not to exist, hung by the pool, teamed up with a german girl who works at the hostel and a set of aussie & english boys who just arrived from new zealand, walked about town seeing cathedrals, hilltop views, and eating ice cream, then hanging at the pool again, going to the market again, cooking dinner, and then having beers with a group in the hostel's backyard...and that is pretty much what gets us to the here and now. too much detail, right? well, it's day one; get off my back.

it's pretty stellar how i go from feeling kinda loopy and directionless to gallivanting with a multicultural clan citing quotes from "snatch" (a la the epic brad pitt). i suppose it's an ultra-cheesy but good reminder that nothing happens when you just sit around waiting for it and whining. you gotta start stirring things up yourself, and that i did. hopefully this bodes well for the days that follow, though i do feel an awkwardness after being removed from the vagabond scene for a few months. surely time will cure this and warm me up inside so i recognize the peter pan gypsy i was/am/will be. day one could've so easily been a wash, a waste, an insignificant and uncomfortable adjustment to the reality that i have actually flown one-way to another continent with no discernible long-term plans. but it was much better than that, and i feel my confidence boiling up inside like i'm the goddamn hulk of mysterious budget adventures.

i anticipate it being rocky, but i am gonna rock this.

let's put the FUN back in dysfunction

i'm the hugest loser around. better yet, i'm a deadbeat parent of a blog child who, at one time, showed promise but now is nothing more than trailer trash with a very small chance of going to college and a very big chance of getting knocked up behind the cup o' noodles vending machine.

i am neglectful, self-centered, preoccupied, and i probably eat a little too much red meat.

but i am here to come clean and tell you that, despite giving you a similar spiel about 17 times before, i am really gonna try this time. i may just pay you random visits when i'm thinking about you, just cuz i wanna see your face and pinch your cheeks, or maybe cuz i got some brownies half-off on account of them being day-old and i wanted to win some (brownie) points by bringing you a gift (and eating half), or maybe i just don't know how to act right and we shouldn't try to overanalyze my behavior.

i come and go as i please. and you let me. that's what makes codepence work! ahh, and it's a beautiful thing. so, as long as you promise to look at me lovingly when i do show up, let's give this another go.

in all honesty, this is my attempt to work up a little momentum before i'm already in a crazy foreign land again and need to build it from the ground up. that's right. in a couple weeks i'll be in chile, in the summer, and you'll be, well, chilly, in the winter. oh, don't gimme that look. jealousy does not become you.

i f'ing love sf. i sf'ing love it. but it's time for an indefinite sabbatical. so let me run free. and if you find yourself daydreaming about crazy shit too, don't call your therapist. it's just the wanderlust, for which there is only one cure: visit me.

ready, aim, FUEGO.