Stayin´Alive

The four or five readers of our blog might be wondering if we fell off the face of the earth... well we didn´t. We are in Quito now, getting ready to spend our last night in South America at an inter-city soccer match between Quito´s two biggest clubs (Liga and Nacional).

Let me try to hit you with a few of the highlights since our last posting.

- Hiking through the Peruvian Andes and making camp in a cloud at 14,000 feet (it was a little cold at night).
- Eating some of the best food of the trip prepared by our camp chef Claudio with two burners and one cutting board in a tent. After the first day he mixed up the traditional Peruvian fair with won tons and spaghetti bolognese.
- Waking up at 4:45AM to watch the sun rise over Machu Picchu... unfortunately the city was completely covered in a cloud and we couldn´t see more than 10 feet, but watching the clouds part to reveal incredible ruins and breathtaking views was even more impressive than any sunrise could have been.
-Celebrating Phil´s 25th birthday back in Cuzco with shots of Pisco (liquor derived from sugar cane), roast spicy guinea pig, and brandy alpaca chops (the alpaca is highly recommended, guinea pig not so much).
-Avoiding disgruntled Peruvian workers blocking the roads the day we flew, and the airport the day we took a bus.
-The appearance of Juan "el capitan" Pearson in Quito who managed took the Quito Hilton casino for all it was worth with an incredible display of $2 blackjack skill.

I am missing a ton, but time is up...Felipe y Frijole will be back in DC on Friday... after one last night of sudamerican cerveza.

Llegamos a Peru

Since we head out tomorrow at 5:30 AM to begin our 4 day trek through the Andes, I figured I'd make a quick post. We arrived in Cuzco yesterday having flown from Santiago via Lima. All things considered (mainly, the continent we currently inhabit), it went very smoothly, as we only arrived about 45 minutes late. Cuzco, like the last 3 stops we've made, is currently experiencing an exceptionally cold streak. Fortunately, that means its about 50 during the day and 35-40 at night. We're expecting some chilly nights while we camp out tomorrow and Wednesday night.

The hike meandered through the Sacred Valley and culminates in a tiny village whose name I can't remember. Then we take a short train ride to Aguas Calientes, where we spent one night in a hostel, before waking up before dawn to beat the tourists to Macchu Picchu. After taking the gringo train back to Cuzco, we have 2 more nights in rowdy Cuzco (including my 25th birfday).

So far, the highlights of Cuzco have been eating alpaca (very tasty and lean), trying and failing to order roasted cuy (to be attempted again tonight), and the amazing hospitality of Frijole's family friend/travel agent extraordinaire Cheryl.

Expect some awe-inspired posts on July 19th or 20th after the trek.

-Felipe

A Few Other Characters in This Travelling Circus Show

Although Frijole and I are the main characters in this adventure, there are many others we've met along the way who deserve a little blogspace. Here are a few:

Name: Alex Triantaphyllis
Alias(es): The Greek, El Griego
How we met: Alex went to St. John's and I learned from his Mom at this past MS150 that he's getting a masters in Buenos Aires for the year.
Claim(s) to Fame: Will go down in history as the man who Introduced me to fernet; Fondness for making "Rock On!" type gestures at Argentine dance clubs; Playing a major role in making sure our BA clubbing experiences made it to "that next level."

Name: Flore Franck
How we met: Worked with Bean, was Georgetown Class of 2006, is Argentine and currently lives outside BA
Claim(s) to Fame: Taking unsuspecting Gringo visitors to popular BA clubs located under a bridge near a dark lake ringed by transvestite hookers; Being an excellent native tour guide.

Name: Deb and Erica
Alias(es): Deberica
How we met: Deb is a high school friend of a Georgetown friend of Frijole and Felipe; Erica is Deb's former coworker; Deberica is on a similar South American adventure and we overlapped in Rio.
Claim(s) to Fame: Meeting very forward Brazilian guys who say amazing things like "When I want something, I get it....."; Having experienced, along with Felipe and Frijole, the worst "English Speaking" tour guide in history; Having experienced, alongside and because of Felipe and Frijole, possibly the worst samba/forró dancing in history.

Name: Wilson Griffin and Friends
Alias(es): The guys staying at the hostel at the end of Gringo Alley
How we met: Will is the younger brother of Elizabeth Griffin, a Georgetown friend of Felipe and Frijole; Will is travelling around the continent with 2 friends and, unbeknownst to all parties, was staying in a hostel 40 feet from ours in Rio.
Claim(s) to Fame: Sharing the amazing coincidence of staying 40 feet away from us and being on the same sidewalk walking to Ipanema beach at 1:00 PM on Thursday July 5; Having ridiculous beards; Serving cheap yet surprisingly potable Brazilian hooch called cachaça to us; getting into a samba club for free by flirting with the transvestite bouncer.

Well, these just get us up through Rio. Expect more tales and characters from the last week, too. Chile has been cold, cloudy, and relatively uneventful. Tomorrow we go to Cuzco where we expect lots of gringos and lost, but found Inca cities!

Coffee With Legs

With only one day in Santiago, it being impossible to see the whole city, and having had our share of bad or weird museums on this trip, we made it our goal today to have one uniquely Chilean cultural experience. There are few things that I like more than coffee, so the choice seemed pretty obvious when we learned about "cafe con piernas" (coffee with legs). Coffee with legs is an exclusively Chilean phenomenon. It is a coffee bar (really, no alcohol served) where the waitresses wear skimpy clothing and show - well - their legs. We were expecting some kind of a cross between Hooters and Starbucks, so we decided that it would be a good way to start the day. The famous cafe we had been looking for had shut down last year, but a new cafe had opened in it´s place.

What we found when we opened the door (at about noon on a Saturday) did not bear any relation whatsoever to a Hooters or a Starbucks. In fact, the cafe bore a striking resemblance to a strip club (I saw one in a movie once). Neon lights lit the otherwise dark room, mirrors lined the wall and techno played in the background. The "women" (only one of them was definitely a woman) stood in the middle serving coffee. Her attire made Hooters girls look conservative.

According to some, the cafes are part of Chile´s revolt against a strict catholic culture and repressive government... They are open exclusively during the day, serve only coffee, and are frequented by businessmen.

We each ordered espresso, having no idea what exorbitant amount our coffee would cost. The coffee was actually decent (although they put sugar in without asking). We sipped the coffee while we looked around and watched woman/man/beast employee cannoodle with some clients.

When we went to pay for our coffee with legs, we were mentally prepared to drop a hefty sum, but the total came to less than $3 U.S. Not bad for two espressos...

All in all, a very bizarre experience...perhaps the reason it has remained uniquely Chilean.

Paulo

Of all the people I know, or at least the ones with which my travelling companion has corresponded twice via email, Paulo definitely seemed like the guy with which I should jump off of a 1700 foot mountain in Rio de Janeiro. He owned our well-run hostel and came recommended by both the guide book AND Ryan Condon. Convincing (deluding?) myself of Paulo's ability and invincibility was the most important part of deciding to go hang gliding in Rio de Janeiro.

Frijole and I had discussed going hang gliding before even leaving DC and we had scheduled the jump a week ago, but I was not fully ready to make the leap until I got a bird's eye view of Rio from base of the famous Christ Redeemer statue. It may have been His divine spirit or his bird-like pose or simply the stunning landscape of the city. In any event, I was sold. The flight was scheduled for the next morning at 11:00 am.

That night, Frijole and I took it easy (not a simple task in party-crazy Rio). The thought of flying hungover and regurgitating a gift onto a favella 1500 feet below seemed unpleasant. 11:00 came quickly, despite some nervous sleep. Unfortunately Paulo said the winds weren`t right. We were disappointed, but obviously did not question his decision. We were told to check again at 1:00. Two hours later, the winds hadn`t changed, so we made plans to do other activities. Suddenly (and it really was surprising!), we were told to get ready. The winds had changed and the driver was on his way to pick us up. There was just enough time to grab a Brazilian pastry thingy next door and change clothes. No time to change our minds. No need to, though, because Paulo is the best and our American friends had flown with him 3 days before.

The ride to the mountain took about 20 minutes. We met our pilots, and neither was Paulo. It was ok, though, because they worked with Paulo, and Paulo only hires the best, probably. Frijole's pilot had 12 years of experience. My pilot, Marco joked that he he'd been flying for 2 days. I decided not to ask again for the real answer. Marco told me the 3 things I absolutely needed to do to ensure a safe take-off: NEVER stop running on the platform, stand up straight while going down the ramp, and look at the horizon while you run.

Paulo was at the staging area preparing to fly with someone else. He shared my enthusiasm while shaking hands and remembered Frijole's name from the emails. Paulo is a cool dude.

There were about fifteen minutes of preparation, then about ten minutes of waiting. When somebody decided the winds were right, Paulo and his tandem passenger ran down the ramp. Ten seconds later, Frijole took flight. It appeared successful. Marco quickly confirmed that I was committed to running without stopping, counted down from three, and took off with me at his side.

The flight lasted ten minutes. When we landed on the beach, my cheeks hurt. When the adrenaline wore off, I realized it was because humans aren't conditioned to grin continuously for ten minutes.

You should try hang gliding because flying is amazing. You should go to Rio because it's beautiful. And you should do the two of them together because Paulo is the best.

Slum Tourism

Since it's snowing today in Buenos Aires for the first time since 1918 and our bodies are still in shock from the transition back from sunny Rio De Janeiro, we thought it made sense to spend a little time indoors doing a blog post or two.

Rio is a breathtaking city. It´s hard to imagine how sky scrapers and bland buildings could compliment mountains and forest meeting white sand beach, but somehow that happens in Rio. We saw some incredible views hang gliding over the city, danced samba (OK we tried), drank coconut milk straight out of coconuts on the beach, and saw our fair share of beautiful women.

When I first heard about favella tours from another traveller we met, I was pretty confused. For a fairly steep fee, guides would take tourists into several favellas, famous slums that developed on the hills of Rio where the poor, without access to land, developed makeshift homes. Today, the favellas are famous for crime and drug lords, and function almost as cities within cities.

Just when you thought you had heard of everything...slum tourism

Since the advertisement for the tour said "not creepy or voyeuristic," I knew it couldn't be creepy or voyeuristic, and I was as much fascinated to see how exactly slum tourism operated as I was to see the favellas. I justified the relatively high cost since the profits went to fund an after school program in one of the favellas.

One of the strangest aspects of the favellas is that many of them neighbor the wealthiest communities in Rio. The last house before the entrance to the Rocinha favella is the home of multi-millionare movie director Walter Salles (Motorcycle Diaries).

Rocinha is a city within a city - poulation 20,000. We drove by a police car at the entrance and the guide explained that the police stayed just outside the favellas always, and, if they entered, violence usually followed between the drug lords who ran the favella and the police. He also explained that only two types of violence occured in the favella, between drug lords and police and between different drug lords. Other violence was not permitted, not by the police who never moved beyond the entrance provided they continued to receive their monthly commission, but by the drug lords who knew that crime in the favella (other than their own) was bad for business.

We were allowed to walk around briefly on the streets at a kind of mini crafts market, and were then taken to the terrace of an abandoned building which afforded a wide view of nearly the entire favella. From their we were told the details of the drug operation and chain of command of organized crime in the favella, how it impacted normal residents everyday lives, and the complex relations between the drug lords and the government (who have secretive agreements arranged through intermediaries).

After the abandoned building, we were allowed about five minutes to wander around the commercial center of the favella, but told not to take pictures, because drug deals were frequently going on in the markets and drug dealers, who always carried guns, did not appreciate photos. As stark as the contrast was from the rest of Rio (drug dealers working in the open, whole dead chickens and other animals hanging from carts, dirty bars and stands, and oddly shaped makeshift building), I couldn't help but feel that we had been taken to one of the more prosperous favellas in Rio. Conditions didn't seem as difficult or filthy as I had heard them described. I posed that question to the guide who sidestepped it several times before I stopped asking.

Next, we were ushered back into the van and taken to a second favella, shown the after school program that the tours support and allowed to meet a few of the children. Then we went for a longer walking tour of this favella (one which was much safer because it was one of the few in Rio where the drug lords didn't operate). The narrow and steep streets were fairly incredible to see. At one point I thought we were on a stair well inside a building and I looked to my left and saw a street sign.

It's bizarre to think that in the middle of a major city, these slums can continue to exist controlled by drug lords. Even more bizarre, my guide seemed to feel like it was almost OK, and pointed out some of the positives of the complex and secretive relationship between the government and the drug lords (stability and low crime rate among citizens of the favella).

A different experience... and a little creepy and voyeuristic unlike the promise of the advertisement, but maybe slum tourism is the next big thing for the jaded traveller...

Not My Cup of Mate

The universal beverage in Argentina and Uruguay is called Mate. It's a type of bitter tea made from the Yerba plant. It is mixed directly with hot water in a small bowl and sucked through a straw that contains a tea filter. We have been waiting to try it for nearly a week since, almost every store worker, bus rider or cab driver can be seen holding their Mate bowl. The only problem (from a tourist point of view) is that it isn't served in cafes or restaurants.

Yesterday, we visited Colonia, Uruguay - wanting a change from Buenos Aires for a day. Colonia is an old Portugese colonial town and smuggling center highly recommended by our Argentine tour guides (Flore and Gironimo) and was only a ferry ride from Buenos Aires. The town was nice, and the architecture interesting. We were able to climb a light house set inside the ruins of an old castle - from the top you can supposedly see Buenos Aires, but the fog prevented that.

Since mate was even more ubiquitous in Uruguay, I decided it was finally time to try it. I purchased a mate bowl, straw and about a pound of Mate (the smallest amount they sell) from a local convenience store and on the ferry ride back, was able to convince the cafeteria working to microwave a cup of water for me. I did my best to mimic what I had seen Argentines do, and poured the tea leaves into my bowl...

It was disgusting. Absolutely gross. I threw away my newly acquired Mate tools last night, not wanting to bother taking up the space in my backpack...

Today is the fourth of July, which, if the fog around Ezezia International Airport doesn't lift soon, we might be spending in the airport.

Hopefully, we will be in Rio tonight for the 4f.

Happy fourth of July.

Me Tango Long Time

Saturday night we went to a tango show in the Palermo neighborhood of Buenos Aires. While this is not the neighborhood known for high quality tango, we were pretty sure we wouldn´t notice. The locale, Cafe Homero, resembled an old classy jazz show place with a small stage downstairs and a balcony spanning three sides of the small room. The show started an hour late just to remind everyone of the Hispano-Italian roots of the country and the dance. But just to remind everyone that we live in a new globalized world, the female tango dancer was Asian.

The music and the dancing went just as you might expect, except the dance looks really difficult in person. Since I certainly do not understand (or practice) artful dance, I will only venture to say that all the moves in the tango involve crossing your partner´s steps, a feat which seems much more challenging than moving in unison. This might be why the dancers appeared to have a level of concentration more suited for, say, landing an airplane, than recreational dance. Then again, the tango probably isn´t recreational, which brings me to my next observation: the tango is extremely overtly sexual. Every dance was meant to look like a seduction and always finished perfectly with the Asian-tinian woman "surrendering" to the handsome suitor. If only it were that easy.

Phil´s tango conclusions: Like porn, it is sexual, looks difficult, and is best left to professionals.

Off to Rio! Happy 4th of July!

Madres de la plaza de mayo

The Madres de la plaza de mayo still march every Thursday at 3PM. Watching it was kind of a trip. It was impressive to watch the same women (or at least some of them) who marched in defiance of the military government in the 70's, march around the same plaza, continuing to express their grief and indignation. As much as it was like looking into the past, it was impossible to ignore reality. The madres arrived in vans plastered with their web address ( http://www.madres.org/) and sold t-shirts, postcards and lapel pins from a long table on the side of the plaza which tourists lined up to buy. When they marched, it was like watching Bono try to push his way through a crowd, assistants had to walk in front of the madres to push inquisitive cameras out of the way. On this particular day, they shared the plaza with an indigenous rights protest, complete with a rock band, that made for a bizarre background to the somber scene of the mothers and grandmothers marching...

It seemed to me watching them, that the Madres had grown (and rightfully so) into local celebrities beyond critcism. It was interesting later when speaking with our drafted Argentine tour guides, to hear them casually mention that the Madres were often critcized. It's something I am still having difficulty understanding, but I suppose their are at least two sides to every story and while I doubt a majority of the country look back fondly on the not-so-distant past, some in Argentina still look back and see a military regime that had more benefits than drawbacks for the country.

Phil´s Observations from BA:

-Everyone in Buenos Aires is white. Everyone. I haven´t seen a single person of African or Asian descent who wasn´t clearly a gringo tourist in our 3 days in town. The only time I´ve seen people who appear indigenous was during a protest in the Plaza de Mayo for the rights of workers in interior states, the participants of which I presume are from said interior states. Anyways, it´s very bizarre and noticeable not to have a visible immigrant population. I´ve never seen any place like it.

-BA is extremely similar to Madrid. Two noticeable differences (besides the lack of African and Arab immigrants): People from BA (Porteños) are friendly, unlike Madrileños, who are rude; and BA is dirty, unlike Madrid, which has a huge continuous public cleaning program. I believe the friendliness of the place outweighs the dirtiness. I like BA.

-The museums in BA are terrible. For example, we went to the Museo de la Ciudad hoping to learn about the history or culture of the city. Instead we found a museum with a small and unimpressive permanent exhibit and a temporary exhibit called "Esas cosas cariñosas que algunos se llaman `kitsch´" (Translation: Cute things that some people call "kitsch."). That´s right. Somebody thought it would be a good idea to put a bunch of random tacky crap in a museum and call it an exhibit. I have a hope that there was something else going on, like maybe their next exhibit is going to be "Fotos de gringos confundidos en un museo." (Photos of confused gringos in a museum). In that case, kudos to the Argentines for pulling a fast one on us. Unfortunately, I think the only fast one was the fact that we paid 30 cents to look at trinkets.

-My Spanish has gone to mierda over the last 3 years. It´s very sad.

-Cow kidneys are slimy yet tasty.

The Good Air

Hola, Frijole Here.

Two full days in Buenos Aires, but Tuesday morning feels like weeks ago. We have already lived in two hostels, the ultra-clean Millhouse hostel and the less-than-spotless Chillhouse, run by two young hippies, a Frenchman and an Argentine, and wreaking of marijuana. The staff is very nice, but lacking the domestic skill set of the cleaning crew at the Millhouse. We have seen most parts of the city already, aided by insanely cheap cab fairs (about U.S. $2 for a medium-length ride) and a cheaper metro system (30 cents U.S. per trip). Buenos Aires strikes both of us as extremely European, more so than any place we have seen outside of Europe - and very similar to Madrid where we both lived for a semester in College.

Our first night in Buenos Aires we met two British girls passing through Buenos Aires and staying in our hostel, as they taught us a mildly interesting card game named ¨shit head¨we talked about our respective trips. They were on the tail-end of a 4 month trip through Asia and South America and were astounded that we had only one month to spend in South America. I can see exactly where they were coming from after a few days in Buenos Aires - a month barely seems sufficient to explore and enjoy the city let alone a continent...

After hearing endless praise of Argentine steak, we set off for our first dinner at 10:30PM that night to a restaurant described as "a bit touristy, but reliable" by our guidebook. We were enticed by the menu "especial" offering empanadas, salad, beef, desert, coffee and wine for US 10$ per person. Our spanish being a bit rusty, we were having some trouble understanding the waiter - he pointed to his stomach and said something about "todos los enteros" (all of the insides). We assumed he was referring to how full we would be after eating all of the food, which suited us fine. When the main course arrived, though, it became immediately clear what he had been trying to communicate to his gringo customers. We had ordered all of the insides (organs) of the cow. So, a sizzling plate of cow and chicken parts was placed on the table before us and we diligently went to work (and most of it was actually quite good), only Phil being brave enough to try the round squishy piece we can only assume was a kidney... We were so full and sleepy at the meal´s end that I decided to skip the free coffee and desert included in the price... Yes, I declined free coffee.

Día - -1

Bienvenidos! Felipe here. Tomorrow I take off from Houston to meet my friend Alex Bean (aka Bean, Frijole, and Gato) in Miami from where we head to the bottom side of the earth for 31 days of learning, hijinks, finding ourselves, making bad decisions, and generally unforgettable experiences.

I created this blog in the vain attempt to replicate the blog that my sister Meg and her boyfriend Rahul (collectively known as Meghul) kept while they travelled the world for a year. Our trip will occur within just one continent over just one month and Bean and I aren't exactly as compelling of a pair as the lovebirds Meg and Rahul, but I still think it's enough for a blog. One thing I'm sure of: reading this will be more fun than working.

Stay tuned for completely erratically scheduled updates. Here's our itinerary:

June 27-July 4 Buenos Aires
July 4-July 8 Rio de Janeiro
July 8-July 11 Buenos Aires? Somewhere else in Argentina? Uruguay? Maybe. Probably just questioning, though.
July 11-July 15 Chile
July 15-July 22 Cuzco, Peru
July 22-July 26 Quito*


*featuring Johnny Pearson.