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.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Monday, October 11, 2010
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.
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.
Friday, October 8, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, July 5, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
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 $
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 $
Saturday, April 10, 2010
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
