The rain hits the ground in the key of G-minor

At a new place.

It is with a boy and his family in a house across the street from the railroad tracks.

The sky is a purple cough.

Today I took a walk and got rain in my hair. After the lightning lit up the sidewalk I couldn`t help but wonder if the thunder is God`s trombone player?

Up and down city streets and in and out of subways people are moving as quickly as they can to get away from someplace and closer to somewhere else

You may leave from many of places but you cannot leave yourself
I`m learning this.

As the rain hits the ground in a soft death
I notice that some things never change regardless of where you find yourself

Dogs will always sniff strangers.
Babies pee on themselves.
All roses have thorns.
People run for cover in rainstorms.

There are mysteries all around.
Even the explainable has something unfound

that we will never know everything
because if we did we wouldn't learn anything after now

So smile in the silence spent with strangers
grow a garden with fallen stars
dance with your shadow

The sky may be a purple cough and the people may be running for shelter
but I'm gonna make a duet with the thunder

Im going to get the boy I'm staying with to come up to his balcony
so I can ask him,

"what is it about the rain that makes you afraid?"

a few things I´m thankful for

- journals
- subways
- voting
- wine openers
- vivid dreams
- dictionaries
- roller-ball pens
- choices
- wit
- our president
- strong, black coffee
- maps
- boxerbriefs
- plain t-shirts
- highfives & handshakes
- milkshakes
- Fernet
- mornings
- stary skies
- public transportation
- sneakers
- sex
- dark chocolate
- tattoos
- parks
- hands & feet
- pocketknife
- music
- whiskey, wine, beer
- independence
- bicycles
- generosity
- black & white photography
- jukeboxes
- skeleton keys
- independent grocery stores
- organic & sustainable living
- bookstores
- cinemas
- bonfires
- roofs
- trees
- seasons
- poetry
- trains
- awkwardness
- cities
- country
- accents
- camera angles
- dreadlocks
- traveling
- learning
- fairytales
- card games

The walking wonder

I met a guy in Uruguay who is walking around the world.

WALKING!!!!!!

Andrej began his trip from his doorstep in Hamburg, Germany when he was 20 yrs old. He has managed to walk completly through Germany, France, Spain, Portugal, Brazil, and now (18 months later) is in Uruguay. Except for obviously flying from Portual to Brazil he has done this all on foot. This means he is a lunatic. A good guy, but a lunatic.

I asked him how long he thinks walking around the world is going to take and he said about 8 years.

Like I said, he is a good guy, but crazy.

Below is his route and blog




http://www.andrej-raider.de/

http://www1.folha.uol.com.br/folha/videocasts/ult10038u570404.shtml

Thanksgiving in Buenos Aires

Man, I would kill for some sweet potato fries, macaroni & cheese, turkey & dressin´!!

But I guess I´m going to have to settle for beef, wine, and alfajores:)

Heinekens & Sharks

Out of the week I spent in Uruguay I finally got to have one nice day at the beach. I loaded up my backpack with a few beers, my journal, some crackers, and a book. I walked for about 1hr and 30min before I found a nice secluded spot to sit and watch the waves. The water was too cold to get in, but I made several valiant attempts anyway. The farthest I got was to the kneecap, but I feel like that there was a reason for that. After my last attempt of going for a swim I retreated back to my manmade sand-chair. While reading my book I looked up for a brief second and saw… fins?

Ahhhh, FINS!!!

Not just any fins, but shark fins.

How do I know this?

I don't. But I can definitely tell you it wasn't fucking Flipper the friendly Dolphin or Shamu..

Ferry ride to Uruguay

It had been one week of complete madness in Buenos Aires. Having diner at midnight, drinking a few beers and cocktails at 1:00am, going out at 2:00am, and then returning to a floor somewhere to sleep once the sun was wide-awake and the buses were rumbling on their normal routine. Back in Austin I used to wake up at 4:30am-- not go out. The schedule of midnight beef and anis flavored Argentine liquor was beginning to get to me.

Although I really do love the city, I felt like a needed a break. Before I even came to South America I had visions of beaches, pina coladas, clear skies, and sunshine. All I wanted to do was sit on the beach, read a book, make a sandcastle cooler for my tall-boys of beer, and nap to the sound of crashing waves. I figured the easiest, quickest, cheapest place for me to do this was Uruguay. I packed up my backpack and headed to the ferry station with only one thing on my mind-- relaxation.

A friend from the States decided to meet up with me in Uruguay because he desperately needs a Visa to Brazil since his flight back to the States leaves December 1st from Rio de Janerio. After failing to get his Visa twice in Chile, and getting turned away three times in Argentina, he decided that his only remaining lifeline was to try his luck in Uruguay.

The terminal to buy tickets looked a little plush just for a three hour ferry ride across the bay. One would think that with all the time they spent deciding where to hang the flat screen televisions and wall art they may would have put up a sign that indicated where to buy a ticket. As I've said before, I have a problem with asking people simple things like directions. The time. Or what line is the one to buy bus tickets?

I used my superior deductive reasoning skills and got in the longest line I saw and waited...

"Are you sure we are supposed to buy tickets here?" My friend, Eric, asked.

"No, but I assume that since this the longest line it must be the one we need."

Eric nodded his head in agreement as he smacked his croissant. The line kept moving in its lethargic manner until half an hour passed
and we were at the beginning.

Necessito dos boletlos por Montevideo, por favor? I asked.

No. Tienes que comprar allí.. He pointed three windows to the left.

Fuck. I should've asked.

It took two hours, and 90 US dollars to get a 3 hour ferry ride to Montevideo. I was livid. It was the most stupid, overpriced process
I have encountered in South America. First, you had to go to a window and get your passport verified. Then you go to another window to double check that your passport was verified. After that you go to another line where nothing happens and then you buy your ticket after you are too annoyed to care that you probably could have flown there cheaper. I could hear the lady grunting like some sort of choking mule as I begrudgingly took my time sorting out my Argentinean pesos.

Things got a lot better once we got on the ferry. Eric and I preoccupied ourselves with the Would you rather game.

If Obama wasn´t president would you rather vote for Bush again or Sarah Palin?

Neither. I´m an anarchist.

Dude, that´s not how to play the game. You gotta choose.

Instead, Eric continues the game and asks me,
Would you rather choke to death or choke someone else to death?

What the fuck?! Neither. This is supposed to be an uplifting game.

After an hour going back and forth and failing at the would you rather game
we both agreed that we would rather not play anymore. We reclined back in our
90$ ferry ride seats and while Eric watched Madonna: Live in Buenos Aires on DVD
I began making a very detailed list of priorities I want to complete once I get back to Austin:

1. Start an underground poker ring
-once a month
- min. $10 buy-ins
- whiskey, cigars, jazz, stouts, suits

2. Become a rockclimber

3. See every Shakespearean play Austin has to offer

4. Find a place to live, and then paint the room no matter what color it may already be.

5. The Exotic 6-Pack Club
- May this endeavor demonstrate my dedication to the advancement of beer by organizing a group of young, promising individuals to surprise each other once a week with some obscure beer that we beer buffs can enjoy one chug at a time.

6. Get a job.

That was as far as I got before the ferry reached the dock.

The look of waiting

If you were to tally up all of the hours I have spent waiting for buses, on buses, or running after them it would equal up to 27 days and 18 hrs exactly.

Below is what it looks like to wait.





I drink coffee and stare at people.
Quite unexciting to tell you the truth.

new country!!

I´m in Uruguay!!

This is my 9th country.

First impressions:

1. extrmely green

2. clean

3. small

4. rainy

5. tranquilo

6. mate

7. resort-ish

8. expensive

9. Americanized

can´t go to sleep

It´s 3:00am. Sleep seems impossible. I shouldn´t have drank so much mate. Just finished reading Sputnik Sweethearts by Murakami. Don´t know what I think about it yet. Listening to a song about a woman made of Mercury now. My mind is racing. There are people downstairs having 100 conversations about the same thing. The ocean is outside. The tide is moving with the moon. I got sand in my ears. Tonight I wanna pretend that I´m sleeping inside a seashell. Tomorrow I don´t want to talk to anyone. I wanna sit Indian-style, in the sand, with a beer. I don´t want to fall asleep before the sun climbs over the clouds. If I do, I want my dreams to have pianos. I want to sleep inside a seashell, dream in silver and ceylon, a thousand pianos will play in the background, the woman made of Mercury will appear, and I will wake to the smell of the ocean, just as the sun stumbles over the clouds.

Just when you think you are beyond surprises-

You learn that you aren´t. You discover that you are far, far from it.

Remember the time I told you guys about how I stayed at that place where I woke up in a puddle of water swatting bugs from my face?? Well, I went from there to something even more drastic.

Before I get too carried away, let me start from the beginning.

After Cat´s place I ended up staying with this other girl, Malena, who I also met randomly. She, like pretty much every girl in Argentina, was alarminlgy gorgeous. Malena gave me her number and after many failed attempts, she finally met up with Or and I. I think it was the day after the Pride Parade she met us for late night coffee. Over coffee and toastados I found out that this girl speaks 4 languages, lived in nyc last year, lived in Spain the year before last, was moving to Paris in a month, and just got a full scholoarship to the New York Film Institute. At the end of the 2 hour conversation, she casually added that she is only 19 yrs old.

19 years old!! I kept repeating to myself. She has done all of this, can communicate with almost anyone in any hemisphere, interesting, beautiful, and only 19!!

I suddenly felt highly insecure, but I casually sipped my lukewarm coffee in an attempt to camouflage my look of awe and dumbfoundedness that was plastered across my face.

Or really wanted to go to this gay club that night and invited Malena and I to join him. Malena was a little reluctant at first because she had class in the morning, I had no plans, obviously, so agreed. Plus, it was only 25 pesos all you can drink at the bar (this equals to $6 US)!! How could I resist?

Malena finally decided to come after Or´s impressive persuasive techniques. There were loads of people, tons of dancing, great music, and overall a really chill place. But there was one point in the night when I looked over and saw this really creepy guy giving us the deadstare. It was a relentless, completley focused, straining peer of the eyes. At this point, I was tempted to walk over and ask him if I could help him with something, but before I had the chance to Malena pulled my arm in a fright and started to freak out.

What´s wrong? I asked.

Do you see that guy? I know him!

Yeah, well he is creepy. I replied not realizing that was the least bit comforting.

No, you don´t understand he knows my family.

I wasn´t following at all what she was trying to tell me. All I could focus on was how this guy looked like a sleazy used car salesman sipping a gin martini through a straw.

Your family? Is that a problem? I inquired.

No.. Maybe.. I don´t know! It is just that my family is well known around Argentina

As soon as she said this I started choking on my long island tea. It is one thing to say that your family is known in the neighborhood, or that people in the city kind of know who your family is, but to say that the whole country of Argentina is familiar with your face and last name is a bit much!!

My mind immediately began racing. I thought that either her father killed someone important, or that he was a politician.

Now that I think about it, those two aren´t that different afterall.

She ended up going up to that guy and talking to him for about 15 minutes. He left and then everything seemed fine. I didn´t think too much about it, but then my curiosity finally got the best of me.

Sad, but true, I wikipidead the girl´s last name two days later. And to my surprise, her father was much more then just a politican. Her father had been the Minister of Education for the last 3 years (which explains her being able to speak 4 languages fluently) has written many books, AND- most importantly- was 200 votes away from being the President of Argentina in the last election.

In summary, this means that I went from sleeping in bathroom water to sleeping with the daughter of the guy who was almost the president of Argentina!!

This is just more proof that demonstrates that what one imagines can turn out to be a fraction of what actually can occur. Call it luck, coincidence, happenstance, or irony. Call it what you will.

If anyone were to tell me 6 months ago that I would be staying with the girl who was the daughter of the guy who was 200 votes away from being the president of Argentina I would have laughed loudly in their face, and would have told them to try again.

Amazing

I am certain that the sexiest dance in the world is tango. Particularly, Buenos Aires tango. Two nights ago I went to the Buenos Aires Tango House, got a table and a bottle of wine, spent too much money as usual, but had the time of my life.

Tango is sexy.

If only I had an ounce of dancing ability, I would do it, but sadly the only rhythm I have is located in my fingers and not my feet. I can play just about any song on the guitar, but when it comes to moving my hips and legs I look like a bow-legged giraffe chasing after a tractor.

It is pathetic.

Anyway, it was a 2hr mind-blowing performance that I can´t stop thinking about.

Incredible. Dramatic. Difficult. Captivating. Did I mention sexy??

Cat´s Cradle

Sometimes, reality proves itself to be greater then what one could ever imagine. And sometimes, imagination works best not by wondering what life would be like with flying goats or an endless supply of dark chocolate or frequent flyer miles, but what life would be like without the little things:
Goosebumps. Bluejeans. Whispers. Rain.

This all occured to me while taking a shower by candlelight. It wasn't because I was trying to get romantic with myself in the bathroom or be creative with different forms of lighting, but because the electricity at our couchsurfer's apartment went caput. Or and I were only supposed to stay 2 nights at Cat's place. Today marks the 7th night we've been here. We have our own set of keys and everything. It feels like home.

I told her that we were coming to Buenos Aires for the Pride Parade and she said, I quote, you sound absoultleyfuckingawesome, stay as long as you want.

I guess I took her literally.

Most people, however, probably wouldn't have lasted one night, let alone 7.
It all depends on what I like to call one's adaptability meter. Over the years,
I've managed to tweak mine to the highest level of tolerance, but I can understand
why some people, like the Austrians who stayed here for only half a day, told Cat
that her place was just a little too exotic and moved to a hostel.

Maybe the decapated babydolls or flying bugs scared them away....

I like to think of the place as having a life of its own. A home with more character and personality then even the most extravagent people. Everyday something happens that surpasses anything I could possibly imagine. Like waking up in a puddle because when the electricity blew out the refrigerator broke and the bathroom flooded. I´m not sure how, but it did. And then realizing how it probably isn´t considered typical for Or and I to sit in the dark of a strange apartment and drink beer just to pass the time. But even though it isn´t normal or sanitary, by even the most lenient of standards, it couldn´t be more appropriate.

I have actually grown quite fond of the place. It is like a street with a roof. And I mean this with upmost respect. I like the dysfunction of everything. The surprise of coming home and finding a wolf vomiting in the floor, or a broken toilet, a disappearing phone, no doorbell.

But more then I enjoy the dilapidation, the poetic ambiances, and artistic qualities of the place- I love the people I´ve met here. Cat, the girl who lives here, is fucking brilliant and so interesting to talk to. This girl has hitchiked all over the world. She has hitched from the Route 40 down in Ushuaia all the way to Canada. She has done her fair share of hitching in France and other parts of Europe, and obviously South America as well. I am amazed by how she speaks English, French, and Spanish as if they are all her 1st language. The things this girl has seen, has done is inspiring.

When I leave, I´m gonna miss the candlelight talks over cheap beer, sleeping in the hammock, and the splish-splash in-between my toes everytime I walk into the bathroom.

And I can´t imagine anything greater then this.

Pride!!

9 de Julio is the widest street in the world. And over 55,000 people all coming together were able to shut it down, stopping all traffic, for 8 hrs:)

It was the best Pride Parade I´ve ever been to. And I´ve been to many, even San Francisco´s...

I don´t really have much to say but,

WOW.

It was magic.













http://picasaweb.google.com/webmaster.puntoblanco/XVIIIMarchaDelOrgulloLGTBEnLaCiudadDeBuenosAires#5401771683512720578

The quest for The Gay

After a 24hr bus ride and a bottle of $2 wine, Or and I, my gay Isreali boyfriend that I kidnapped from Bariloche, made it to Buenos Aires!! The bus ride, like all bus rides in South America, was an adventure within itself. It was us and about thirty 10yr olds. I felt a little guilty sitting in the back of the bus passing the bottle of wine between us while the kids starred confused, but hey! What can you do? I needed something to do to pass the time.

I had set us up a place to stay with a couchsurfer, but I got the date wrong so we actually ended up in Buenos Aires a day too early. It wasn´t that big of a problem, Or and I just took the subway downtown and went looking for a hostel for the night.
Where we ended up was the poshest hostel I´ve ever seen. It was like a Gringo resort or something-- filled with plasma screens & computers, it had a lounge bar in the bottom, AND you got a free dinner and a beer every night you stayed. Usually, not my kind of place, but for $40 pesos a night there was no way I was going to say No.

The whole reason Or and I decided to burn our tentative schedule of going to the southest city in the world was because of the Gay Pride Parade. I found out about it a month ago and had been contemplating whether or not going because it was really out of the way. But of coarse, I couldn´t pass up the largest Pride event in all of South America!! It was an opportunity, a responsability, one beautiful romp of a good time to be had! And it became definetly clear that the stars were all in favor of my going once I met Or. It was love at first sight.



When you get to a new city-- especially a very large one-- it is important to get
yourself a map. We decided to wake up, grab some coffee, and hit the streets in search of a map and anything exciting to do. The city was gridlocked. All the people who work the Subway were on protest because the president is an idiot. Or and I managed to walk across 2 different barrios until we found one large tourist information center.

Do you have a map? Or asked.

Sure.

How about any info on the Pride Parade? He added.

On the what?

You know, Pride Parade. The thing where gay people go. He pleasently informed.

Hmmm, I didn´t know we had that.

What?!! And you work at the tourist center?!! Here, honey, I´ll make you a sign to put in the window. It´s important we get the word out.

After Or educated the lady at the tourist information center we were a little discouraged about how this could be. Did we get the dates wrong? Does Buenos Aires actually have that big of a Pride Parade? Had we been lied to?!!

We took the streets.

We need to find a gay map. Or said.

They have those?

What do you mean do they have those? Of coarse! Tel Aviv has like 3 of them. Don´t you have them in the States

Dunno. I live in Texas.

He gave me a sad look.

After 15 blocks of wandering around we managed to end up in the Recoleta cemetary. Oddly enough, however, we found another info center who we hopped would have more information.

Frusterated and tired, Or marches up and knocks on the window. An old lady looks up from her newspaper and smiles. I´m thinking the poor lady is going to know less then the young one.

Hey! Do you have any info on gay spots of Buenos Aires?

After a 2 minute stare-over of the both of us she smiles and says
Gay for you?

Yes, doesn´t matter, gay for anyone.

The old lady pulls out a map and after each place she marks with her cute red pen she says,

You can find the gay here. and the gay here. and I think this place has the gay.

I about pissed myself from laughing so hard. Here we were, in the middle of a cemetary, talking to an old lady about pride events, who keeps referring to everything as the gay.

There better be more then one person at this parade. He said.

Don´t worry-- it´s going to be huge. I tried to comfort him.

What do you wanna do now?

Let´s go to the gay coffeeshop the lady recommended.

Both laughing, we walked, and it began to rain.

Pauses

When I think about what all has happened in the past 2 weeks I feel exhausted.
No. More then exhausted, more like I´ve been walking around with a bag of stars on my back so bright and heavy my shoulders are bruised and glowing.

It is a hardbliss.

All the things one sees, and doesn´t. The parts we enlarge and then reduce down to a fraction. I remember reading an interview with Georgia O´Keefe in which she was asked why she always painted flowers so big? Why did she feel it was necessary? And she responded,

I hate flowers. Most people in the city rush around so, they have no time to look at a flower. I want them to see it whether they want to or not.

This illustrates so much. We have a tendency to be so busy that the rush swallows us whole, and by the end of the day, we wonder where all the hours went. We miss the freckles. The floating questions. The clouds. The puddles. The hours will always go by. Afterall, the day you are born is the first day you start dying. I have to remind myself that no matter how much I want to do and accomplish I can´t do it all. Argentina is teaching me that it is okay to sit in a park. I can just sit! It is amazing!! And it isn´t laziness, it is being human. It is taking in your surroundings and enjoying the spot that you are in. Everything can be enlarged, reduced, or pushed aside. I´m loving the small things. For instance, I was having a conversation with this Argentinean girl at a coffeeshop. She is studying film at the University and so we started talking about the difficulty of writing screenplays. She was working on one and told me that she liked going to cafes or parties and just listening to what people talk about. As we were having a conversation about conversations it occured to me that perhaps, the most important thing to listen to is not just the words or topics, but the pauses. The things that are said in those small fractions of silence. The way people fidget with their pockets, or clean the dirt from their nails with the tips of pencils. The squints, the blinks, when people crack their knuckles, look up to the stars or stare at the concrete.

Today, I´m going to look at flowers.

more

Posted some more pics & more to come!!



http://photobucket.com/buena_suerte_lacey

(these are mainly from Pride Parade)

so much in so little time

BUSY BUSY BUSY!!!

will update soon. so much keeps happening. i have no idea where to start..

makes me smile

Just got to Buenos Aires.. Have only been here for 3 hours. In love with the city.

And found out while registering to volunteer that 45000 to 55000 people are expected to march at this years Marcha Orgullo LGTBQ parade.








http://www.brandongayday.com.ar/principal.htm

http://www.marchadelorgullo.org.ar/

Quick summary

= I climbed a glacier. Yes, a glacier..

= Stayed in a hostel that brews their own beer and grows their own food

= Got stuck in a rainstorm, on top of a mountian, wearing jeans & a t-shirt. Know what this is?? Fucking cold

= Haven´t spoken any English in 5 days (This is impressive because even though I am in a Spanish speaking country many, many people speak English) I consider this an impressive feat.

= I trespassed into the Huapi National Park and was almost struck in the head with a falling boulder. I guess those danger signs actually are there for a reason

= Rented a car with a guy from Ireland, Scotland, Isreal, Argentina, and Thailand and drove with the windows rolled down into the mountains while all humming to Bob Dylan and gangsta rap

= Made the best damn hamburgers for 10 people

= Ate all the chocolate I bought for my Grandmom.

= I blame it on all the beer I drank at the bar around the corner

= Finished reading The History of Love. Even though it has the lamest title
in the history of literature, it is worth reading. I recommend it-- a lot.

= Bought a bottle of wine, in which I plan to drink it all on the 24hr hour bus ride to Buenos Aires while I listen to Regina Spektor and pretend that I´m flying.

these days, it just keeps rotating

Made it to Bariloche after I left Chile and and haven´t really left the area. It is truly a wonderland here. Not necessarily the city of Bariloche, which is kind of like Aspen, Colorado, but the scenery. So many mountains, lakes, green trees.. The faint smell of firewood, tobacco, cold on your face with the sun shinning down.

Just been waking up, making mate and walking. Walking. It really is my favorite thing about traveling. Walking. In no direction. I take a left, I take 2 rights, I follow a river, or walk up to the base of a mountain, or into a pub. I go through neighborhoods where some wave and ask me how I am or where others stare and wonder if I´m lost. Perhaps. But you can only be lost if you have a specific destination.

First rule of traveling: Never have a specific destination. You miss things if you do.

Second rule: Don´t have plans; have possabilites.

Which brings me to what I thought I was doing, but am not anymore. Well, at least for the time being. Oringinelly, I was going to be in Bariloche for 3 nights, El Bolson for 2, then take a bus to the heartland of the Patagonia, and finally make it to the world´s most southern city.

Instead.

In one hour I will be on a bus to Buenos Aires (a 24hr bus ride complelty on the otherside of the country) to work at the largest Gay Pride Parade in South America. Accompaning me is my new best friend-- Or Factor-- that is his birthname. He is from Isreal and I dressed him up as one sexy woman in a black dress, balloons for breasts, and red lips for Halloween.