at the moment

Living in Rosario, Argentina at the moment with 2 local guys, 2 German hitchhikers on a two year hiatus, and an Israeli girl who just fled the army. Tonight we are watching movies from each country and I'm going to make cornbread to go along with our wine.

good luck

While walking in the beautiful city of Rosario I came across one gorgeous girl and one sabotaging bird. That's right.. Sabotaging bird. She was cute and alone sitting on a bench in the park and I was standing at the corner debating whether or not I should go up to her and ask if I was going the right way to the river. I was getting nervous just thinking about it so I decided I was going to walk away until she looked up an smiled. I then cleared my throat and was practicing what I was going to ask in my head. The truth is, I do this in English, but Spanish is even worse..

¿Qué tal? ¿Dónde está el río?"
¿Qué tal? ¿Dónde está el río?"
¿Qué tal? ¿Dónde está el río?"

And then I felt something on my face. Bird shit. More like pterodactyl, large flying thing in the sky, shit.. This seagreen & white toothpaste colored poop somehow managed to fall right between my eyes and roll down my nose. The street had loads of folks causally strolling down the boulevard, the sky was absent of everything, and I was on the way to practice my Mississippi backwoods Spanish with a pretty girl until the diarrhea bird came along and ruined everything! I'm not sure if the girl on bench saw exactly what had happened since the poop blindsided me. I immediately raised my hand in one swift ninja motion, wiped it off my face with my sleeve, and continued walking like nothing ever happened hoping that it is true what they say about birds pooping on you-- it means good luck--- and I'm gonna need it real soon. Just checked my bank account.. Now that's a funny sight to see....

The Dread Mullet

Let me introduce you to a little something called the Dread Mullet



Last night I went to a few bars with some locals and got approached by a guy who just had a mullet. I was already a bottle of wine and 3 cocktails gone to the wind when this guy asked me if he could have one of my dreadlocks. Believe it or not, I've gotten asked this question several times by people from all over. I always politely decline peoples request because I think it is fucking strange, but last night I thought why not?! The guy takes out his scissors and before I know it my favorite dreadlock is now a knub sticking out the top of my head! He then gets his friend to tie my one long blond dreadlock into his short, dark, Argentinean mullet.

It was a very sad moment, but I can't help but laugh when I think about how somewhere in Argentina there is a guy who has one of my dreads tied into his mullet...

weird.. werid.

This is what I've been doing with my life..

wasting it away here







For the past 5 days I've been in Cafayete, Argentina. The Mendoza of the north, this beautiful little wine country is a place I gleefully did nothing in but drink wine and eat empanadas. It is the only place in the world where the Torrontes grape is grown, a grape used to make the most refreshing & well-rounded white wine I've ever tasted. The Bonardo grape is also grown in Cafayete. I bought a case of both of them from Nanni--the oldest bodega in Cafayete, as well as the only organic winery in the region. During a wine tour I was told that the US imports 60% of the wine from Cafayete while they keep the rest. The difference in buying it here as opposed to the States is that it is about $30 bucks cheaper:)

lost in translation

These are my two favorite poorly translated signs




These are my two favorite poorly translated signs

Let me backtrack a bit

This morning I woke up and realized that I never posted anything about my favorite part of Bolivia- Salar de Uyuni!!



Let me backtrack a bit...

Salar de Uyuni, the largest salt flats in the world, has been the most surreal piece of landscape I've seen. Roughly the size of Connecticut, this completely desolate plot of land looks like snow and ice, but is actually the remains of a former great lake. Wow!!



The only way to get there is by a tour, unfortunately, but luckily our guide Edgar was awesome! It was 3 days of waking up at 5:00am in the bone-cutting cold and cruising around the salt flats and the incredible area around it. It is seriously one endless blanket of salt. The people in this area of Bolivia use this salt for everything from cooking to building homes and making toys for their kids.

About 45minutes further down from where the salt flats begin there is this bizarre island of cacti. There were hundreds of cacti all in the middle of a salt island with some dating back to 1200 years and being over 100 meters tall!







There were lagoons, flamingos, geysers, volcanoes, canyons, poisonous lakes etc... all within this 200km radius. Things that scientist have been trying to explain and speculating about for decades!





And there were things I was trying to explain like Why are there gigantic llamas made out of salt? And why is it that I'm always going to places where I have to sleep in all of my clothes as well as under 2 sleeping bags & alpaca wool because it is so damn cold everywhere? Or why is it that people from Europe want to bicycle to the salt flats in the middle of the road so they can get ran over by a tour jeep??

Yep. That almost happened. On the last day our driver was speeding along desolate salt earth, and then, as we cross over the hill there were 3 hippie bicyclist with all their gear strolling along in the middle of the road. We would of ran over all three if Edgar, with his mouth full of coca leaves, jolted the wheel to the left, the hippies jumped to the right, and Edgar's chewed coca leaves went everywhere! No one was hurt, but I think everyone was a little pissed off. Edgar was speaking what seemed to be Quechua swear words, the hippies were giving dumbfounded stares and lifted middle fingers, so I decided my job was to translate what each one was gesturing to the other.

I turned to Edgar and said The hippies think you are a reckless driver.

I then walked over to the hippies and asked if they were okay and then proceeded to give them a lecture on the etiquette of cycling.

What the hell guys?!! I asked. You can't cycle in the middle of a road where tour jeeps go and are notorious for driving crazy, and furthermore, you need a flag attached to the back of your bike so people can see you! I felt like a minivan driving soccer mom lecturing her kids about seat belt safety or something.. It was strange. But there is nothing that bothers me more then people who don't know how to ride bicycles or drivers who don't know how to drive around them.

After I calmed down Edgar and lectured the hippies I got back into the jeep and we drove off while the hippies tried to get back on their bikes and continue their 1 year of cycling across S. America (one guy actually started in San Francisco, California, cycled all through Mexico, Central America, and finally made it to Bolivia..)

It was an 8 hr. drive back to Uyuni, in which I slept the whole time until I had to make Edgar stop so I could go pee behind a cactus. We got back to Uyuni around 5:00pm which was just enough time for me to buy a train ticket to the Bolivian border, then hop on another 7hr bus, get checked by Argentinian officials across the border, then hop on another 7hr bus into Salta. Total driving time= 30hrs. Finally made it to Salta, but that is a whole other story.... :)

learning new things everyday

It seems strange going from a country with toilets like this



to a country with bathrooms like these.



And it wasn't until today that I found out that what I've been washing my hands in is not some strange Argentinean sink placed in an odd location, but a French bidet. My friend had to explain to me that these are used to wash your ass; not hands. Ohhhhhh...

There are just some things they don't teach you in Mississippi...

very important thing to know...

before you visit a country (especially for a long period of time) check to see if they operate on the same electrical system as you because if you don´t you could be stuck with a dead IPOD, computer, and camera like me!!!

Yep. Argentina & Chile operate on an European electrical system. Didn´t know that. And now I have a bag full of dead battery electronics. Simply marvelous..

ARGENTINA!!

I am in Argentina!!!!

Already, I feel like I can fall in love with this place all too quickly

need new pages

Bye Bye Bolivia..

After spending 22 days in Bolivia I feel like I´ve seen & experienced enough of the country to sum it up with my Highs & Lows:

HIGHS

1. Adventure Brew Hostal!! (awesome beer, free all-you-can-eat pancakes, and hot showers.. what more can one ask for??!!)

2. Meeting amazing travelers

3. Street food lady in La Paz (you could get sausage hotdogs the size of an infant´s forearm with hot sauce for less then .80cents- yummmmm:)

4. Sucre! (favorite city in all of Bolivia)

5. Potosi mine tour (interesting & extremely difficult)

6. Going to the Pampas and encountering loads of wildlife

7. Insanely CHEAP!!!!

8. The mountain town of Sorata

9. Salar de Uyuni (the most phenomenal landscape I´ve seen)

________________________

LOWS

1. No grocery stores (some wouldn´t percieve this as a bad thing, but you could of seen the food I had to eat you´d wish you´d have the option of buying your own food & making it also:)

2. Nothing was ever opened. Ever..

3. The food:( just simply uneventful & often rotten

4. People were less friendly & mostly just seemed annoyed

5. COLD ALL THE TIME

6. Had to pay $135 bucks for a Visa to visit basically because their current president Avo Morales used to be a coca farmer and the US has something called The War on Drugs

7. vacancy of ATMS (literally only 2 cities in the entire country have themÑ La Paz & Sucre)

8. Enhaling sulfuric arsenic acid ember shit from both the Potosi mines & La Paz

9. EVERYTHING had to be a tour, and I hate tours

10. LA PAZ!!!! My least favorite city I´ve ever been. It is cold, heavily polluted, dodgy, too much drugs & nothing to do:(


My Overall opinion of Bolivia

Bolivia is one spectacular & beautiful country. One with loads of possability which is why it is so sad that it is by far the poorest country in all of S. America. Its history is lush and rich, one filled with colonization & conquerorization, one that is grounded in the indigenous way of life, educated in one aspect, however, heavily handicapped in others. It seems illogical to me how Bolivia contains the most natural resources in all of S. America yet is the poorest. The reason is because once Bolivia extracts their natural resources they export them to get refined in other countries and then buy them back (at a discounted rate) refined. The problem is that a raw material is worth far less then a refined one. The solution seems easy.. Why doesn´t Bolivia just build their own refinery for their oil, silver, etc?? The problem with this is that it is exensive. Bolivia doesn´t see that in the long-run the benefit of building one would greatly outweigh the intitial cost.

Bolivia has been one great, beautiful ball of confusion. I like the country, but it seems a bit self-defeatist. Perhaps my perspective is a bit jaded since I am from the States. I definelty felt a little more annomsity here with me being an American then from the other countries I´ve traveled to. The frusteration is understandable since Bolivia is the 2nd largest grower of the coca plant and the US has sent planes over in the past in an attempt to terminate certain coca plantations. My advice to both countries would be this: Bolivia build a freaking refinery! And give up on this War on Drugs the US-- it´s silly ;)

more to come

Literally just got back from Salar de Uyuni and am about to board a 9hr train to the Bolivian boarder, then hop on a 5hr bus into Argentina, and then finally get on an 8hr bus which will take me to Salta!!

More pics and stories to come after I finish traveling on jeeps, trains, and buses.

But now I think it may be a good idea to find a decent bottle of wine to accompany me on my longggg train ride. Nothing like getting a little drunk before crossing boarders;)

the mines

Went to Potosi for 2 days because I wanted to check out the notoriously dangerous mines. And yep.. they were exactly that. Dangerous. I went with a former miner who took us deep inside the silver mines and saw what these miners have to endure each and everyday. The most alarming thing was how difficult it is to breathe in the mines. Since Potosi is considered the highest city in the world (4,100m) it is difficult enough to breathe just standing still.



Inside the mines are very hot, and there are some people who actually work complelty naked because of the heat. The soot and dust don´t help with breathing eiither. I was down there for about 4hrs and when we finally made it out I had complelty lost my voice. Not because I was yelling, but because of all the soot and silver dust shit that I inhaled. My throat burnt from the chemicals and my skin still smells like sulfur.

Most, if not all, of the miners drink 96% pure grain sugar alcohol, chew mouthfulls of coca leaves, and look at Playboy sometime during the day while they are working just to escape how awful it is down there. The jobs consists of hammering, carrying loads of minerals/silver on their backs, or igniting the dynamite... Some workers are even as young as 7 yrs old. It was really interesting and shocking to see what some of these people wake up to everyday just so they can feed their families.

All I know is that I hope I never have to work in a mine. 4hrs down there was enough.





(this is a picture of my hands when I got out of there)

photos from the Pamapas

Just posted a ton of new photos from my trip to the Pampas. Forgive me for my lack of labeling them, but it isn't too difficult to tell the difference between the anaconda and the crocodiles:)


http://photobucket.com/buena_suerte_lacey

conversating with crocodiles

Supposedly, La Paz is home to the world's most dangerous road. Supposedly, this road can only be visited by mountain bike.

This is a lie.

La Paz does have the world's most dangerous road, however, mountain bike isn't the only way to see it.. It can can accessed by a double-decker city bus on the 22 hr drive to Rurrenabaque, Bolivia. There have been several near death experiences I've had traveling on South American buses so far, like the time in Ecuador when we ran into a wild animal and busted the fuel tank, almost drove off the cliff in Peru, but this was another encounter where it seemed just as threatening. Especially, when the roads are mere mud and gravel pits with open holes, about as wide as spaghetti noodles with no definite lane so everything is on-coming traffic, and guardrails are about as foreign as toilet seats. You'd think that driving around mountains with a 4,000 meter drop would be at least be paved. Ha!! Forget about it..

Since the drive is insanely long there is only one bus that leaves at 11:00am. I get to the bus terminal at 10:30am and buy my ticket wait for the bus. And wait.. And wait.. 8 conversations with 8 different people I finally get told that the bus is running late. Well no shit I want to say to everyone who enlightened me with this useless bit of information, but instead I wait on the curb with some guy trying to sell me a camouflage hat while I eat my day-old Indian curry. 2 hrs later the bus finally arrives and I aboard with everyone else for the Pampas (Savannah wetlands).

The drive was breathtaking. The snow mountains close enough to touch, the sky the color of cold charcoal, the clouds rolling over the purple sun, and then just droning off to sleep by the racket of spinning tires on loose, rickety gravel. Although my knees were scrunched in-behind the seat of the 4ft tall woman who decided to recline her seat all the way back, I wouldn't have traded my spot with the view for nothing.

About 5hrs into the drive we all get asked off the bus while the police search everyone for drugs. Great I think. Even though I never have anything I'm always the one who gets asked the most questions. But this time was different, the police officer just asked

Le gusta Bolivia?

Claro! I replied with glee as I got back on the bus.

The Cordillera Real is the major mountain range that Bolivia has. On one side of the mountains it is dry and cold, on the other side is one damp, humid, sweat swamp with a plethora of wildlife. The climatic change is not shy. I went from layered sweaters and long socks on the bus to stripping down to just my undershirt and windpants as soon I got to Rurrenabaque at a shocking 4:45am the next day.

The thing I hate about traveling in these countries is that if you want to see anything you pretty much have to join a tour which means as soon as you get off the bus, even if it is 4:45am, people will bombard you with

Hola! I have tour. ¿Habla Español? Mas barrato para mi amiga... Ven! Ven! I have...


No gracias. No necessito, ahora.. I politely respond when all I want to say is I just got off a 22 hr bus ride and you are blocking my way to take a piss..

Anyway, long story short, I tag along with 4 German dudes and a French couple for three nights in the Pampas. It is about 3hr off-road adventure in a 1988 Land Rover driven by a guy who would make a phenomenal getaway driver. Off we go slashing through mud, barreling along loose gravel and rocks the size of footballs. The road was barely visible due to the dust and we almost ran over 3 people on motorcycles. It reminded me of driving the backroads of Mississippi..

After the drive we hopped in a little speedboat and cruised another 3 hrs down the Beni river to camp. The Beni is basically a shallow, muddy, swamp filled with caymans, exotic birds, piranhas, and the infamous pink dolphins. It was really incredible to be surrounded by so much wildlife, but what wasn't thrilling was to be swimming in a thick pool of my own sticky sweat.

We got to camp late in the afternoon just in time for an early dinner and some beers. I stayed up talking with the German fellows for awhile until our guide Angelo told us to get some rest because we were going to go anaconda hunting in the morning..

The morning came as hot as a flame and was about as thick as southern molasses. The sweat dripped off my face like cheap wax as we followed Angelo through swamp land while he ate a doughnut and explained absolutely nothing about what exactly lives out in this crocodile & anaconda dangerland. After about 45minutes of following Angelo we ended up in this mossy area where he told us that this is where we can find anacondas and then walked off. Our amazing maestro of a guide, Angelo, literally leaves us white people out in the middle of a swamp to find anacondas on our own while he goes to sit under a tree! Here I am, in the middle of a murky reptile pond with water passed my knees looking for anacondas! The only thing I can think about is What the hell am I gonna do when I find a &#*^$* anaconda?!?

It occurs to me then that this is completely stupid. Luckily, everyone else formed the same conclusion so we huddle back into our little Gringo circle and instead of searching for anacondas we decided to go searching for Angelo since we didn't know where the hell we were!

We find Angelo and he says that since we aren't having any luck with anacondas we can go find poisonous cobras. Just when I think what we are doing can't get any dumber, it does.. As we are walking Angelo all of sudden jumps into the brush and pulls out this 2 meter anaconda and starts laughing like a wild ape. It seems like this is probably the first anaconda he has ever seen, much less caught. Angelo is so excited about his encountering of an anaconda that he forgets about cobra catching, which makes me excited. I don't remind him.

When we get back to camp we all take a quick siesta before Angelo loads us back up into the boat to go swim with the pink dolphins. I thought we were going to go to a spot in the Beni river that we hadn't been before, one that was perhaps a little more suitable for swimming. Not at all. I realize how silly I was for assuming that when he ties us to the same spot where we witnessed the sunbathing of caymans and piranhas jumping out of the water.

Nadamos! He says with a jolly grin.

Swim? I think. Here?

Before I have time to ask Angelo how safe this actually is the French guy jumps in without hesitation so I think, Well if he does it, then so do I. I jump out of the canoe into the khaki water and immediately feel the squish of mud and unknown animals underneath my toes. I see piranhas dancing in the distance, one of the Germans thinks he spot a crocodile underneath a nearby tree, pink dolphins are swimming arm lengths away from us wondering why the hell we are in the water, and Angelo is still in the canoe, eating a banana.

Oie! My nipple! Something bites my nipple!!
The Frenchman shouts. We all look.

My toe! one of the Germans then squeaks.
I think it bit my toe as well.


Angelo, are there piranhas in the water? I ask.

No. Sardines. he says as if we are crazy while everyone of us are holding different parts of our body in pain because of some unknown thing with teeth beneath the water.

It doesn't take us long before we are all back in the safety of the boat exasperated from the excitement of the day.

When we got back to camp all I wanted was to take shower. I was covered in filth, itchy with sweat and blood encrusted mosquito bites. All I wanted was to rip off my white shirt turned yellow from sweat stains and jungle dirt, and scrub my face with a Brillo pad. Instead, right when I was about to get into the makeshift shower, all the power went out, which meant no water.

NOOOOOOOO!!

To make it even worse I forgot to bring extra clothes. So that night I had to sleep in my mildewed swamp pants, syrupy yellow shirt, a face thick with waxy, brown sweat, while the mosquitoes hoovered around me because I also forgot to bring bug repellent;(

I woke up to the suffocating humidity at 5:00am and watched the sun come up with the relentless mosquitoes. By the time breakfast was ready I felt disgusting and starved. We all stumbled in together stifled by the morning sun and anxious for a filling breakfast, but instead, Angelo brought us out funnel cakes and spaghetti.
Again, I should have known better then to get my hopes up with Angelo.

After funnel cakes he took us to go piranha fishing. I wasn't too excited about this part of the trip because I absolutely detest fishing. However, I discovered that even though I'm terrible at bass or catfishing, I'm pretty darn good when it comes to catching piranhas:) The first one I caught came off the hook in the boat so my immediate response was to kick the fish out before I could take a picture. The second one I caught was much bigger and actually stayed on the hook, but I wasn't about to take it off myself, because like I said, it was a freaking piranha!! So instead I asked the crazy Frenchman if he wanted to play with it. The next thing I know the Frenchman is bleeding profusely because he somehow managed to put his finger in the piranhas mouth! Idiot!!



It didn't take us much longer after that before we started making our way out of the Pampas back into the town. Angelo rode on the roof of the red death wagon jeep, we encountered on helluva jungle storm, almost flipped over the truck in the mud, and then finally, got to the bus stop.

It was another miserable 22hrs on a bus that stunk of rotten sausage and armpits, no open windows, unbearably humid, and a seat that wouldn't recline. It took me about 5 hrs before I positioned my 6ft tall body into an origami shape that was bearable. With my head stuck out the window, I watched like a happy puppy, all the beautiful scenery around me, but anxious for a hot shower.