Tales of Aimless Wanderers

Coming Home

noreply@blogger.com (Christian) — Mon, 15 Jun 2009 00:38:00 +0000

Hooray for Spirit Airlines and their reasonable one-way deals from Bogota to Los Angeles!

Looks like I'll be coming home on Sunday, June 28th, probably at night. When I book the flight and have an exact arrival time, I'll let you all know. I'm very excited to see how things have changed, to adapt to all these changes, to start from scratch, and most importantly, to see all of your beautiful faces.

Back in Colombia!

noreply@blogger.com (Christian) — Wed, 10 Jun 2009 12:01:00 +0000

Basically, leaving Venezuela was just as disastrous as entering Venezuela, and I'm really just happy to be back in Colombia. Honestly. But I don't regret going into the country, as chaotic as it was, because I think the experience was very necessary. In the next week I plan to rejuvinate on the beaches of the Colombian caribbean so that I have the energy for my long journey home.

It turns out I may have to take a 3-day boat ride from Cartagena here in the caribbean to Panama and fly to either Miami or Puerto Rico from Panama City. Miami and PR are both domestic flights that cost about US$80-100 one-way. The grand total for this trip would come out to about US$300 as opposed to the US$800 one-way from Bogotá to Los Angeles! Crazy, huh? Still looking into other options in the next few days.

Pinche Venezuela!

noreply@blogger.com (Christian) — Wed, 03 Jun 2009 18:47:00 +0000

A few days ago I was debating whether or not I should visit Caracas, the capital of Venezuela. A month ago I debated whether or not I should even visit Venezuela. When I started this trip I said I would try my best to get to know every Latin American country in South America, but somewhere in the middle of it all I kinda exed-out Venezuela from my itinerary. THEN, being so close to the Venezuelan border in Colombia, I kinda just put it back on. I took it off because I figured it'd be cooler to get to Panama via boat in the same amount of time and spend a few weeks in the Caribbean and Central America, and also because I'd been hearing a lot of negative things about Venezuela. I'd survived South America so far, so long, but would I be pushing my luck coming to Venezuela? Well, I'm here, and so far it hasn't been easy.

Being that I entered the country last-minute, I didn't really make any CS connections. I was lucky enough to find a couch in Mérida this last week, and I got lucky again here in Caracas. The next city I plan to hit-up before returning to Colombia is Maracaibo, where I actually already have a host waiting for me. Not the smoothest planning, and you'd think after 9 months of being a nomad locking in a place to stay would be second nature for me. Maybe I've just had it up to here with it and I'm getting careless. Bueno...

I quickly learned that you have to be strategic with Venezuela even before entering the country. Someone in Colombia told me that it would be one of the strangest places I would ever visit. For one, where you exchange your pesos or dollars to bolívares and how is very important. It turns out there's a black market for all of this, where if you change your dollars legally you get 2BsF (Bolívares Fuertes) as opposed to 6! This also means that I shouldn't use my ATM because I'd be getting a third of what my money's worth. So I had to come into Venezuela with all the money I would need in the time that I would be here. Eesh, I'm running low on funds already.

Getting to Venezuela was difficult, probably the most difficult border crossing I've experienced down here. You can only cross during the day, so I had to time it just right, which meant that I needed to staty overnight with a CSer in Cúcuta, a Colombian border city. To get to Mérida, I needed a city bus to the border, get stamped out, walk across a bridge, get stamped in, take a city bus to the nearest terminal in San Cristobal, the border city in Venezuela, and then a bus to Mérida.

Okay, so I'm in Mérida, supposedly one of the safest cities in Venezuela, so I'm not really feeling the full effect of the hearsay. Here I met up with a cool venezolana, a CSer, who gave me a mini-tour of the city and the first of already a handful of opinions about Chavez and that whole situation. Heavy stuff. After paraglyding at Tierra Negra, which was unexpected and kinda broke the bank, I thought it'd be best to keep on moving. This is when I thought, Caracas or no Caracas??? But I went for it. Thank god I'm safe in the home of a super cool CSer now, but before I left Mérida I wrote in my journal: This is the most scared and unsure that I've been on this trip. Really. I didn't have a couch secured when I left for Caracas, but I crossed my fingers that someone in CS would answer my call for help and rescue me. And so it goes...

I went to the bus terminal in Mérida at night so that I could catch the overnight to Caracas. I had missed the last bus. My only other option was to take an overnight to a city called Barquisimeto and from there connect to Caracas, at 6AM. I passed by two buses that were heading to Maracaibo as I walked up to mine, making me rethink this decision. Signs all around me telling me not to go!!! Maracaibo was the alternative destination where I already had someone waiting for me.

So I get to Barquisimeto and it turns out, this being Venezuela and all, that the terminal was on strike because an employee of a bus agency was kidnapped and two others killed. The bus let us off and then quickly drove away because the bus drivers on strike were blocking every road leading in and out of the terminal to stop pirata buses or taxis from helping anyone needing to leave the city and benefiting from the strike.

Barquisimeto isn't pretty. The terminal and the city are a disaster. People were standing in the middle of the street with their luggage trying to figure out how to get to where they needed to be, homeless people walked through the crowds like zombies, criminal types lingering all around... it was a nightmare. I asked around to see if anyone else needed to get to Caracas, trying to make a friend so I wouldn't be standing there alone, an easy target. The bus drivers on strike had their shit together though. They blocked the terminal and most of the surrounding streets with their buses. The honking, the yelling, the crowds of people, the dirty streets, the weight of all of my belongings on my back. AHHH! From 6AM to 9AM I was walking around town with my backpack and side bag, away from the blocked streets, looking for a way to get to either another terminal or straight to Caracas.

Long story short, kinda, a new friend and I finally found a shared taxi to Caracas, about a 4 hour drive, and he helped me get to an internet café by his apartment where I then checked if I had a couch response. I did, and at around 5PM that day, I finally felt safe, showered and happy to have a place to lay my head and a friend in this chaos of a city.

South America Trip Photos (Part I)

noreply@blogger.com (Christian) — Wed, 27 May 2009 19:46:00 +0000

De Hampy: Faena de Limpieza

This picture was taken in Chocco, the community where I did volunteer work near Cuzco. You can now view all of the photos I've uploaded onto Picasa from the first part of my trip through South America, from Brazil to Perú.

To get to my albums just click on the photo above. Enjoy!

Postcard Failure

noreply@blogger.com (Christian) — Wed, 27 May 2009 03:17:00 +0000

Really quick: I have about 20 postcards I've written for people who I love and deserve them, but the thing is...

The postage is so expensive in Colombia! Today, I asked one company how much it'd cost to send just one postcard and they said $70,000 pesos. That's US$30. I thought the man was kidding, and I asked, "Just one, like, only one postcard, like, one 4x6 inch piece of cardstock, like...," and he said, yeah, $70,000 pesos. Chuta!!! I wrote most of them in Ecuador, at the Galápagos Islands, and I held off on sending them from there because I thought the US$2.25 for each one was too much.

De Boquía & Salento, Colombia

Anyway, worse comes to worse, you'll be getting a postcard a few days after I'm already back in California. But the dates on them will be real, I promise. xoxo

Some troubles, but feeling better now

noreply@blogger.com (Christian) — Wed, 27 May 2009 02:18:00 +0000

I hit a low a few days ago. I think it was because I was in Bogotá and had the option of flying home. Of course I wasn't read to leave yet, but the thought of it had me feeling anxious. The truth is that I'm tired and traveling has lost its novelty for me. I keep telling myself, and others keep telling me, that maybe it's best that I just end this trip now. Honestly, it just doesn't feel the same as it did in my first 6 months of travel. So what's keeping me going?

For one, Colombia is amazing. It's unfortunate that I saved it for last, me feeling all tired. Though like Brazil, because of CouchSurfing, I feel like I'm just hanging out with friends in every city I visit, not doing the full adventurer/explorer/tourist thing. (For example, in Bucaramanga now and I could take a relatively short bus ride to San Gil for paraglyding and all this other cool stuff... but I'm over it.) It doesn't feel like I'm traveling so much, just killing time in a new setting, experiencing a new culture, eating new food, making new friends, etc. (It's when I have to get on a bus to another city that I start to feel like I wanna cry. Really. And dang, I used to really like bus rides. Not so much anymore. Plus, like I mentioned before, the Colombian bus drivers are on something. Oh, and it got kinda ugly between me and a taxi driver yesterday. More defending myself than anything. Argh. Also tired of being taken advantage of, but I don't want to get into that right now, because I bet this already sounds like a big BF.)

Two, I don't really have anything set up back home for when I return. I'd literally be coming home to nothing, living off of a safety-net I've managed to hold on to for this exact reason. I'm waiting on news for something that I could possibly start as soon as July, and I'd rather wait in Colombia than in California (as much as I miss everyone back home, I'll be seeing you soon enough). My money would also last longer here. (BTW, it's amazing what I've managed to live off of in the past 9 months. Makes me realize how unnecessary some things are in life and how much of it (life) we live in excess. And to think some hardcore backpackers live off of way less. Bare essentials, baby. (Though I made a purchase at Zara's here in Bogotá the other day, because I wanted to go out to this really cool club - actually, the best club I've ever been to - in something I haven't been wearing every other day for the past almost-year. Hey, first kind of unnecessary thing I've bought in so long, get off me.)

Third reason for staying: I came down here to see South America, top to bottom to top, and nobody said it was gonna be easy. It hasn't been easy. It's still not easy. But I am so close to finishing, I can taste it. (By "it" I mean the delicious seafood they say I'll find in Cartagena, Colombia - the Caribbean and my final destination.)

Tonight I'm staying in Bucaramanga. Tomorrow I think I'll be crossing yet another border, into Venezuela. My first stop will be Mérida, and I'm debating on whether I want to go as far east as Caracas, the country's capital. (If I don't, it'll be the only capital I didn't visit.) After Mérida, if I ditch Caracas, I'll shoot up to Maracaibo on the coast and then west, back into Colombia for Santa Marta and Cartagena.

And this just in: Because I hear that finding a boat from Cartagena to Panama is a hassle and could take a really long time, I've decided to just fly home from Bogotá, as beautiful as that boat ride would've been. The upside is that I'll be saving money and I'll be spending more time in Colombia, revisiting friends in Medellín, which I'll be passing through, and friends that I've just made in Bogotá. That and Colombia's 2nd Annual National CouchSurfing Meeting is from June 19th-22nd, and considering how fun Argetina's was and how perfect the timing is for this one, I just can't pass it up. It'll be a nice way to end this trip, most of which was a success because of the website.

So there you have it. Expect me home no sooner than the 23rd if nothing else changes. I'm really doing okay now, feeling better than I did a few days ago, somewhat excited about what I'll find in Venezuela, and looking forward to the Caribbean. Big hugs for everyone.

Email to Jo

noreply@blogger.com (Christian) — Fri, 15 May 2009 15:25:00 +0000

I just wrote this as an email to Joanne, but then thought it'd be something I could share with the rest of you. Subject line: Are you home?

Hey Jojo,

I'm sick, it's raining, I'm hungry... Not a good day. Then I thought about you and how you're probably home by now, and I got really jealous. LOL. Trying to hang in there, but it's tough.

-Christian

Back story: Yesterday was hellish. After a 5-hour hike through the cloud forest in Salento, I took a bus to Pereira (1 hour) and then another to Medellin (5 hours), without showering and way tired after all the walking. You'd think all this time sitting on a bus would be relaxing, but it's not. Trying to sleep on a bus I think is worse than not sleeping. Your neck hurts, your body's all contorted, and yesterday the bus driver had a death wish because he was driving SO FAST, bobbing and weaving through the cars in our lane and incoming traffic, speeding over speed bumps where I swear I caught about 12 inches of air from my seat. From one bus to another, then I got to Medellin and had to take a taxi to a metro stop, then on the metro to another stop where my host was waiting for me, by his house, which of course I had to walk to (about 5 minutes, but still, after all of this...). Ilmer offered me something to drink, but the first thing I wanted to do was shower. (Those of you who know me: Yes, shower first. It was that bad.)

I woke up early this morning because it's just normal for me to wake up at 6:30 to 7AM, and because I was cold. The window in the room where I slept was left open, which I think might be the cause for my feeling under the weather. My plan was to explore the city a bit today, but it's pouring rain outside as I type. No food either, and I'm not gonna go in search of it now.

Anyway, this is what a bad day, or few days, of travel looks like. Everyday is not a vacation. Some days, like today, I want nothing more than to be home (wherever that is).

Cali, Colombia and first thoughts of Manizales

noreply@blogger.com (Christian) — Tue, 12 May 2009 15:11:00 +0000

De Manizales, Colombia

I'm loving Colombia! I'm having all the same feelings I had when I first arrived in Brazil almost 8 months ago. There are a lot of similarities between the two countries, most notably the confidence and friendliness of the people, the diversity of the street food (trust me, it matters!), and the CouchSurfing scene. Of course there's more to it than that, and after one full week here, I'm feeling less homesick and more ready to get the most out of my last month and a half of travel... in Colombia!

Cali wasn't in my initial travel plans, but like every other place I end up aimlessly wandering through, I had a blast. Although I stopped briefly in Pasto, Cali was really my introduction to Colombia and all things Colombian. I was unsuccessful at finding a CS host, because of my last minute itinerary change, but luckily my old pal Lennart (from the DDB!) was in Cali and convinced his host Ximena to take in another surfer. (That's how the DDB do! Gotta look out for each other.) I arrived on a Tuesday night and the three of us, Lenny, Ximena and I, didn't waste any time.

De Cali, Colombia

It was the genius idea of El Monstro Lenny to have coffee at a place called Maconda in the San Antonio neighborhood (highly recommended) before eating pizza for dinner nearby. It wasn't long before Ximena and I were bickering like siblings (a strange relationship I develop with women whom I could see myself dating if certain circumstances allowed for it ;). We ended the night with a few others at probably the only bar open that night. The next few days would consist of much of the same, adding in a bit of swimming pool time and me uploading hundreds of pictures onto facebook.

(Really, I think I've given up on Picasa, which is why my blogs have been pictureless for some time now. The best thing to do at this point, if you wanna see pics, is to create a facebook account, if you don't have one, and add me. Search my full name and I'll come up. My trip in photos is pretty much updated all the way!)

To be continued...

De Cali, Colombia

More on Cali: I wanted to stay in the city till Saturday, because a CSer from Canada had organized a vegan picnic for the CS group in Cali that I had yet to meet. That same night Ximena and I did a lot of what we'd done on the previous nights, though not much salsa dancing, which I hear is what Cali's known for. I left the next morning for Manizales, feeling like I was leaving Cali too soon.

Manizales is a small city, very clean and organized. The people, like the rest of Colombia, according to Businessweek's list of the top 10 happiest countries where Colombia placed 3rd following Denmark and Puerto Rico, just seem really happy. My host is a CSer named Stella from Texas. When I arrived at her place she was playing some board game with two American friends that both seemed really nice. Don't know what's to come, but if anything, Stella's will be a nice place to relax for a few days before continuing to the crazier cities, Medellín and Bogotá.

Salamat!

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 10 May 2009 07:05:00 +0000

It's been almost 7 months since I wrote this blog entry, sitting on the same balcony, looking out on the town that has become my second home. I'm at a loss of words really, yet feeling nostalgic as I think back on everything I've done and all the people and family I've met along my journey. For if it weren't for these experiences and people, I think I just might be the same exact person I was when I arrived those few months ago, having not learned a thing about myself and the world around me my whole time abroad.

So as cheesy as this may seem, I'm dedicating this song to the family and friends I've met along the way. I'll let this song that I've heard a lot during my travels here do the talking and say good bye the best way I know how. By saying “Thank You.”

Salamat - Yeng Constantino

And for those of you who don't understand Tagalog, just like I do most of the time, you can find the translation within this post.

Artist: Yeng Costantino
Title: Salamat (Thank You)

Kung ito man ang huling awiting aawitin
(If this is the last song I'll sing)

Nais kong malaman mong, Ika'y bahagi na ng buhay ko
(I want you to know, You've been a part of my life)

At kung may huling sasabihin
(and if there's a last thing to say)

Nais kong sambitin, nilagyan mo ng kulay ang mundo
(I want to say that, you've added color to my world)

Kasama kitang lumuha
(You're with me when I cried)

Dahil sa yo ako'y may pag-asa
(Because of you I had hopes)

Ang awiting ito'y para sa yo
(This song is for you)

At kung maubos ang tinig, di magsisisi
(and if I lost my voice, I won't regret it)

Dahil iyong narinig sa mula labi ko
(Because you've heard it from my lips)

Salamat, salamat
(Thank you, Thank you)

Sana'y iyong marinig, tibok ng damdamin
(I hope you'll hear my heart beating)

Ikaw ay mahalaga sa akin, ang awitin ko'y iyong dinggin
(You are important to me, please hear this song I sing)

At kung marinig ang panalangin
(And if you hear my prayers)

Lagi kang naroroon, humiling ng pagkakataon
(you were always there, wishing for a chance)

Masabi ko sa yo ng harapan
(to say this in front of you)

Kung gaano kita kailangan
(How I really need you )

Ang awiting ito'y para sa yo
(This song is for you)

At kung maubos ang tinig, di magsisisi
(and if I lost my voice, I won't regret it)

Dahil iyong narinig sa mula labi ko
(Because you've heard it from my lips)

Salamat, salamat
(Thank you, Thank you)

Ito na ang pagkakataon
(this is the moment )

Walang masasayang na panahon
(no time will be wasted )

Mananatili ka sa puso ko kailanman
(you'll remain in my heart forever)

Para sa yo ako'y lalaban, ako'y lalaban
(for you I'll fight, I will fight)

Ang awiting ito'y para sa yo
(This song is for you)

At kung maubos ang tinig, di magsisisi
(and if I lost my voice, I won't regret it)

Dahil iyong narinig sa mula labi ko
(Because you've heard it from my lips)

Salamat, salamat
(Thank you, Thank you)

The Perfect Ending

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 06 May 2009 01:16:00 +0000

As some of you might know, a large part of my journey was dedicated to tracing my roots here in the Philippines. Growing up, I had always felt detached from the rest of my family and longed to find answers about my bloodline. But the problem was that the answers laid an ocean away and tracing my lineage in the U.S., where only my mom, dad, and sister live, was impossible.

And so, I spent a good part of my trip, traveling up and down the Ilocos region, from San Fernando in the south all the way up north to Pasuquin, to meet people who shared the same blood as me. One relative would give me tips on where to reach another relative, and the next relative would give me the contact info for my next relative, and so on and so forth. And in the end, I had built a network of kin who knew my name, my story, and my hopes in life.

Before I knew it, talks of a reunion among my Papa Romy’s side of the family began to emerge. And what had seemed to be just a passing idea gained momentum with each relative I met and eventually a date and location were finalized. With my Mom, Aunts and Uncles taking the reigns of planning for the reunion, I was sure this event would be the best way to culminate my journey.

After months of planning, my family and I made our way up to my Tito Senny’s house in Laoag, Ilocos Norte. When we finally arrived, we were greeted with a sight of almost 200 descendants of the Tomas and Florentina Espejo family. From far and wide, many came to be reunited with aunts, uncles, cousins, brothers, and sisters. I couldn’t help but notice the similarities of people’s facial features, but most importantly the big deep brown eyes of some, which were passed down from my Papa Romy and his sister, Lola Saling.

Throughout the day, I was approached by several relatives, whom I didn’t have a chance to meet during my time here, but had heard about my quest and wanted to learn more about me. In speaking with them it occurred to me that although I resembled them physically, the person who they got to know was so exotic to them.

Perhaps it was my American accent or my willingness to defy the typical Filipino expectations of a woman, but as I continued to interact with more and more of them, I began to recognize how alien I was - even to myself. After all this time abroad, the questions I asked, the stories I told, and how I said them were much different than before, and I liked it.

As I looked around the landscape that day, with each of us wearing color coded shirts indicating which Espejo we were a descendant of, I couldn’t help but feel blessed. To finally have answers to questions about my ancestry gave me much respite and filled my heart with gratitude. To be in the presence of all of these people, each of whom I could proudly say I’m related to, was truly a once in a lifetime experience.

Perhaps I may never see many of these people again. But my hope is that perhaps my story of foolish bravery, knocking on strangers’ doors and introducing myself as their relative, inspired at least one person to do a little soul searching of their own. And if I succeeded in accomplishing that, then I couldn’t have thought of a more perfect ending to this trip.

Colombia, Por Fin!

noreply@blogger.com (Christian) — Mon, 04 May 2009 12:40:00 +0000

After two magical weeks on the islands and one amazing day in Parque Nacional Cotopaxi, I'm finally on my way into Colombia today!

I'm crossing the border mid-day and then running to Cali, where I've already found a couch. I decided to skip Popayán because I couldn't find a couch and I REALLY don't want to stay at a hostel right now. I don't want to feel like a tourist, or even like I'm traveling. I want to leave South America like I entered it, full CS, which is really one of the main reasons why I decided to embark on this journey. In Brazil, my hosts made me feel at home, like I was visiting family. I haven't felt much of that in a while. (Thank you, Kahyda!) I might elaborate on this a bit later.

There's also more on the Galápagos coming soon. Pictures too, just be patient with me. Wish me a happy border-crossing! ;)

The Ghost at the Edge of My Bed

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 01 May 2009 00:16:00 +0000

It was almost 2 a.m. in the morning when I had opened my eyes to see a figure on the edge of my bed. I was lying there and having just woken up in the middle of the night, I was feeling a little disoriented. When my eyes finally cleared, I saw a man sitting on the edge of my bed with his face buried in his hands.

His back was facing me, but I could sense that he was sad about something, crying for some unknown reason. I didn't recognize him nor could I comprehend how he got into my room, but what I did know was that he wasn't of this world. He was an apparition of someone I didn't know.

Fearful, I quickly pulled my sheets over my head, hoping he would just go away. But when I peeked back over my blanket, he was still there, crying with his face buried in his hands. Who was he? What did he want from me? And why wouldn't he just go away?

My fear continued to grow and I could feel my heart beating out of my chest, adrenaline running through my veins, and my breathing becoming rapid. Then, he did something peculiar. He stood up, with his back still facing me, and slowly began to turn around in my direction.

I felt as if he was feeding off of my fear, knowing well that I was too petrified to see his face. I noticed his body type and facial profile closely resembled that of my cousin Moi, but before he was able to fully reveal his identity, I again hurriedly hid beneath my sheets.

The torment went on for several minutes, and each time I would check to see if he was still there, he would grow bigger and bigger until he was towering over my bed. He was toying with me, threatening to turn around and expose his face, but I simply couldn’t move. I was paralyzed with panic.

I tried to call out for my sister, who was sleeping in the bed next to mine, but nothing came out. I tried to burst for the door, but I felt like dead weight. I was struggling, as if I was fighting for my life, and it seemed his control went beyond my psyche. He was physically controlling me, without even touching me.

When I finally realized it was all a dream, I was sitting up in my bed, tears streaming down my face, staring at the edge of my bed. No one was there.

My sister, who had heard me struggling in my sleep, had woken me up and with a frightened look on her face had asked me, “What happened?” My sister and I both strongly believe (as crazy as this might sound) that spirits visit us in our dreams, perhaps to say hello or to send us a message. But up until that point, I never had a dream so frightening and vivid as the one I just had.

The next morning, when I came down for breakfast, I was visibly shaken. When my family asked me what was wrong, I described to them in detail the events of my dream, what exactly the man was wearing, and how scared I was. I hadn't mentioned to them yet that his physique reminded me of my cousin Moi, but at that moment my Mom said, “You know, your Tito Romy wore shorts just like that.”

To which my Aunt replied, “Your Tito Romy's birthday and death anniversary were this past week. But we were all so busy that no one commemorated him this year. Maybe it was him. Maybe he felt forgotten.” Uncle Romy passed away 23 years ago, and his family house where his son Romy Jr. lives, or Moi as we all like to call him, is just next door.

Word of my dream had spread from house to house, and when my cousin Moi came over to hear my account of the dream, I could tell he was frightened himself. Having seen the spirit of his father roaming through his house growing up, he was nervous that perhaps his father’s ghost might appear to him again soon.

A few days later the elders in our family decided to hold a novena and meal in honor of my Uncle Romy. We also visited his grave at the cemetery that day and lit candles for him. Perhaps his spirit was trying to tell me something, or that it was all just a coincidence, or even that this dream was just symbolic of my growing fears of returning back to the States. But whatever it was, I'm happy to report that after all of this, I haven't had a visit from that ghost since.

Galápagos, Ecuador (Part I)

noreply@blogger.com (Christian) — Wed, 29 Apr 2009 17:44:00 +0000

I love this place. So much so that on the third day here I changed my flight back to Guayaquil so that I could stay an extra week. Like I’ve mentioned before, go big or go home, and I don’t wanna go home. The big debate when traveling to Galápagos is whether you should go on an expensive boat cruise where you’re practically spoon-fed the entire experience, or explore the islands and all they have to offer on your own, on a budget and at your leisure. There are pros and cons to both, and I guess it just depends on the type of person you are, and your resources. Me, I chose the second option, and it’s been really good so far.

Saturday, April 18th, 2009

This blog goes out to the other true aventureros who’d rather go at it alone, to show them that it can be done, but also to speak in earnest about some of the setbacks of rebelling against tour agency-mediated travel. Well, first off, to some extent tour agencies are inevitable; I did book my roundtrip flight to Galápagos through an agent instead of going to either AeroGal or Tame directly, the two airlines that fly to the islands. (How you purchase your flight doesn’t matter, though. Just make sure it’s within the US$350-400 range, cheaper if you fly RT from Guayaquil.)

My flight left Guayaquil at 8:30AM and landed in the Baltra airpot, a small island north of Isla Santa Cruz, at around 10AM. Santa Cruz is the central island most people go into first. (The other option is to fly into the airport at Puerto Baquerizo Moreno on Isla San Cristóbal.) From the Baltra airport I jumped on a free bus that brought me to the small canal connecting Baltra with S. Cruz, where I then took a short boat ride (.50 cents) to cross over onto S. Cruz. Once over, I had to pay for another bus ($1.80) to bring me into Puerto Ayora, the port town on the island. I was very lucky to have found a CouchSurfing host in Pto. Ayora. Aside from having instant friends on the island, I was able to plant my feet and soak it all in for a bit.

My CS hosts, Colette and Miguel, were a young Ecuadorian couple who took me in even though they were gearing up for their own yearlong backpacking adventure. My instructions were to get to their shop and have an employee call their house so that they could send for a taxi. Easy. (But taxis here are relatively expensive.) I arrived at their home and couldn’t believe my eyes. Colette and Miguel live in a paradise, more inland and in seclusion, with no neighbors in sight. A rustic white house with a wooden balcony overlooking a huge front/backyard completely enshrouded in papaya, banana and passion fruit trees. (Even a small section of pineapple.) Also staying with C&M were Gabby from Quito and Claudia from Baños, though originally from Venezuela. In no time at all, we were all one big happy family.

The very first thing I did on the island was help Gabby search the yard for fallen passion fruit, or maracuyá, and make passion fruit and papaya juice. (Ah, island life.) And the papaya here is so sweet and easy to eat. I’m a fan, and this house has a never-ending supply.

I thought I should take advantage of what was left of my first day on the islands, so Claudia and I took a taxi back into town after lunch and I went to a beach called Tortuga Bay, within walking distance of the main street in Pto. Ayora. It was a half-hour to 45-minute hike to the beach on a concrete path and through a cactus forest, under the merciless, scorching island sun. The long, hot walk felt like purgatory, because the beach itself was complete heaven. Crystal-clear water, white sand, and very few people; from my experience, the most beautiful beach in S. America. I walked down the beach, to the right, and eventually hit a swimming hole surrounded by mangrove and rock. Here, a sea lion swam around in front of me, almost as if it were looking for someone to play with. The wildlife in Galápagos is fearless. Then some pendeja came and tried to feed the sea lion an apple and it swam away.

I walked back into town with two Austrian girls I met on the beach and met my hosts for dinner at a place called Los Quioskos. Lots of tasty, relatively cheap options spread across one street, with tables set up in the open air. Then we all took a taxi home. I set up a mattress on the balcony and fell asleep under the stars and papaya trees.

Sunday, April 19th

Thinking I should be in super tourist mode since I had exactly 1 week on the islands, I went into town in the early morning after a huge bowl of papaya with yogurt, granola and honey. I walked to the Charles Darwin Research Station for a quick intro to the islands and then next door to the Giant Tortoise Breeding Center.

Colette and Miguel had invited me to have lunch with them and about a dozen other people at their place, so I figured the rest of the sightseeing could wait. It turned out both Colette and Miguel are legit chefs, having gone to culinary school at the New Zealand School for Food and Wine, and everything. I got back in time to help them make pasta from scratch. I’m talking beating together flour and egg, and putting it through a type of Playdough machine that cut the dough into fettuccine. A lot harder than I make it sound, but it was worth all the effort. Ready-made pasta just doesn’t compare. It was honestly the best lunch I’ve had on this trip.

I asked my hosts what they recommend I do for the second half of my day, and they said: Do nothing. Hang out here. A food coma sounded about right, and I thought I should get the full island experience and do what any local would do on a Sunday afternoon. So we all sprawled ourselves across the balcony, on hammocks and couches and mattresses, listening to an iPod blasting meditation-type music on a Bose speaker. I drew papaya. (Haha. If I’m not eating it…) It was a very good day.

Monday, April 20th

First things first, I thought: Two full days had already gone by too fast, and word on the skreets was that I could easily change my flight back to Guayaquil at no cost, so I stopped by AeroGal and postponed my return flight one full week. One, I was loving the islands too much; two, I figured it deserved at least as much time as I gave Buenos Aires, which was actually 2 1/2 weeks; and three, it was expensive enough to get here, I should get as much out of it as I possibly could. Colombia would have to wait.

My plan was to take a boat out to Isla Isabela that same day, the largest of all the islands, and stay there for at least three full days, returning on Friday. Tours to Isabela are offered at $180 for 3 days/2 nights, but I chose to go on my own. (Though not much cheaper, it was easy to do and allowed for more flexibility.) I bought a ticket to the island ($30 one way) and spent the rest of the day at Las Grietas with Gabby until I had to leave at 2PM. Las Grietas are these beautiful swimming holes where you can snorkel and jump high off the lava rock and into the water. You get there by water taxi on the main dock (.60 cents) and then a short hike from where you’re dropped off. Also, all boats to Isabela leave at 2PM and return to S. Cruz at 6AM, I guess to cater to the tourists just getting to Galápagos or those trying to make their flights back to the mainland. So plan accordingly. ;)

On my same boat was Colette’s younger brother, Manu, who was leading a tour for a group of French tourists on a 3-day trip. Colette’s father relocated their family to Ecuador from France for work. Manu was born in Ecuador. Both are fluent in French and Spanish and can get along well in English. I love meeting people like Colette and Manu, who are so unique in their ethnic identity that they transcend it. I was completely fascinated by a girl I met in Santiago who grew up in London but whose parents were chilenos. Her Spanish was perfect and with a Chilean accent, and her English was very Posh Spice. In Cuzco I met an Italian CSer who was visiting Peru to find his birth mother. He spoke Spanish the way any other non-native speaker would, yet was discriminated against by the doormen at a touristic pub in Cuzco who wanted to limit the number of “locals” he let inside. And the list goes on…

The town in Isabela, Puerto Villamil, is a six-block radius. Upon arriving at the dock, I asked someone if I could walk into town and they said yeah, but that it would take 15 to 20 minutes. Whoa! Haha. The tourists in their tour vans looked really silly to me at this point, as they drove past me. Manu helped me find a fairly priced hospedaje (an extension of Hotel San Vicente, $10 a night), where I was given a private room and bathroom, with a fan and a television. He then invited me to come to a place called Beto’s Bar with him, where I had the best coconut ever. ($3, but worth every cent. They’re huge, ice cold, sweet, and a little fermented, giving it a carbonated and refreshing taste.) Though the beach was only a few steps away, unlike in Pto. Ayora, I decided I’d take it easy and hold off getting in till the next day.

When I got back to my room at night, I turned on my television and watched actual TV for the first time in a long time. I watched the very first episode of this new Argentine novela called Atracción x4 and became instantly addicted to it. Low budget, horrible acting, cheesy music, an attractive cast, and an unrealistic but highly amusing storyline. After writing a few postcards, I put on my iPod and let Sade sing me to sleep.

Tuesday, April 21st

When I arrived Monday, I booked a one-day trip to the Sierra Negra Volcano and Volcan Chico on horseback for the following day. Though it is possible to hike to the volcanoes, I’d been wanting to ride a horse for the past 7 months and hadn’t yet, so I went for it. ($45, lunch and transport included, though I hear you can find it for cheaper or haggle the price down a bit. I got lazy.) The Sierra Negra Volcano last erupted in October 2005 and has the second largest volcanic crater in the world. (The largest is in Tanzania, Africa.) Both volcanoes were very impressive, as well as the landscape on the ride to them.

I went straight for the beach when I got back from horse riding, and took about 200 pictures of the marine iguanas sprawled all across the volcanic rocks near the shore. Then I had pescado a la plancha with patacones for dinner. ($6, though you can find set menús for as low as $3 for dinner.) Patacones are pretty much refried green plantains, or verdes, which gives them a salty, chip-like flavor as opposed to the deep fried, sweet platano maduro ubiquitous in Central America. I’m a fan. (I had some with guacamole in Montañita.)

Afterward I walked to a mirador, tower-type thing on the beach and sketched a bit before the daylight died out completely. I drew the actual mirador and the ocean line behind it, because that was all I could see in front of me. I got back to my room in time (sin querer queriendo, I swear) to watch the second episode of Atracción x4, and then called it a night.

Wednesday, April 22nd

I had a full day ahead of me. There’s so much to do on Isabela and all within walking distance of Pto. Villamil. First I visited the island’s Giant Tortoise Breeding Center, which had a lot of what I’d already seen at the Darwin center on Santa Cruz. Then I headed over to Concha de Perla to snorkel and swim with sea lions. Here I met three Israelis who were traveling together and the four of us paid a fisherman ($10 each) to take us to Las Tintoreras, a set of smaller islands close by, mostly made-up of black volcanic rock and named after the white-tipped reef shark, or tintoreras, found all over. Lots of sea lions on the short ride there, and at one point before docking, our guide stopped the boat to let us observe what looked like a wildlife meeting on some rocks about 10 meters away from us. A sea lion, a group of about six penguins, two blue-footed boobies, and a pelican, all in one shot!

Our driver then took us to the start of a National Park trail on Las Tintoreras, but before we began our hike the Israelis insisted that we stop to have tea. And that’s what I love about the Israeli backpacker: They do as they please. Two guys and one girl, all three were very friendly. One of the guys busted out a camping stove, a gas tank, and some traditional Israeli tea-making apparatus, and we had hot tea under the hot sun, which to them made perfect sense. On our hike we saw more sea lions, the white-tipped shark, and lots of marine iguanas. Afterward we snorkeled a bit around Las Tintoreras, but the water was too rough and the visibility was crap. I do remember seeing angelfish and rainbow wrasse, even sea cucumbers.

The four of us walked back into town and went our separate ways for dinner, though they invited me to have tea with them again on the beach at 8PM. They made me miss my novela, but it was well worth it.

Recurring Dream

noreply@blogger.com (Christian) — Wed, 29 Apr 2009 17:37:00 +0000

I keep having this dream where I wake up one day and find myself in LA, not having finished my trek through South America. Probably more of a nightmare (another backpacker’s nightmare), because I wake up from my dream to a huge sigh of relief that I’m still here.

There’s a different scenario in each dream, but the main idea is that I fly home prematurely and I feel miserable because of it. This is scary because anything can happen down here or up there that would require me to leave this experience at once. I think having less than 2 months of travel left is amplifying this fear; so close yet so far.

De Cusco, Perú (City Tour)

And I’ve reached that point where it’s probably best that I go home. I can’t stand to even look at my backpack anymore, let alone to keep packing and unpacking it. What keep me going are all the great things other travelers have told me about Colombia, its CS scene, and the Caribbean. That’s enough to put up with living the life of a mochilero for just a bit longer.

Traveler vs. Tourist

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 28 Apr 2009 23:34:00 +0000

About 6 months ago, while I was traveling through Thailand, I ran into a friend I made on Ko Phi Phi island at the Phuket airport. As we were waiting to check in for our flights, making small talk in the departure terminal, he said something to me that has stuck with me until today: “But you’re different. You’re a traveler.”

I was only 2 months into my tour of Southeast Asia, never having traveled alone in a foreign country until then, but his comment took me by surprise. I have always believed that in order to call yourself a traveler was a priviledge you had to earn and for me to hear that from someone who is a seasoned traveler himself was indeed a compliment.

You see, the traveler versus tourist debate is a recurring conversation I’ve had in hostel after hostel with backpacker after backpacker. While the definition of each varied from one person to the next, there was a common theme that was clear. The term “tourist” carries with it a negative connotation, and most backpackers strive not to associate themselves with that word.

Why, you ask? Well, tourists are people who travel to the highly populated places, visit the most obvious of attractions, and make little effort to participate in the culture of the location they're visiting. They're a nuisance to the locals and have the expectations of being catered to at every turn.

Travelers, on the other hand, claim to venture for the purpose of introspection, make efforts to immerse themselves in different cultures, and tend to travel solo for long periods of time on a limited budget. They have an aversion to making plans well in advance and favor unpredictability in their day to day travels.

In my opinion, there's a fine line between the two. On some days I'm a tourist, and on others I'm a traveler, but I like to think I lean heavily towards the definition of a traveler. Perhaps it's like a scale, where you fall somewhere in between the two, like liberal or conservative, and gay or straight.

But call me what you will. Tourist. Traveler. Backpacker. Flashpacker. Couchsurfer. Either way, I'm a backpack toting, hostel staying, sightseeing, guidebook carrying, walking machine and until I can afford the five star accommodations and private chauffeurs, I wouldn't have it any other way.

Congrats Vanessa!

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 21 Apr 2009 23:19:00 +0000

I just got word from home and wanted to congratulate my good friend Vanessa for being selected to represent our hometown of Downey, CA in the Miss California USA Pageant this November!

Read the full press release here.

Her website will be available in the coming days here.

Hawker Heaven

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 19 Apr 2009 04:47:00 +0000

If there’s one thing that defines Singapore food culture it has to be the hawker center. Dotted across the city landscape, you can stumble upon several of these places, filled with vendors selling cuisine with roots from the east all the way to the west. And while the food is cheap as hell, I must say it’s still worthy of five stars.

For any traveler, to come across a hawker center on an empty stomach is a dream come true. Perhaps you could compare the atmosphere to a food court in a shopping mall, but the vendors aren’t your typical franchise shops like Sbarro, Peking Express, or Chik-fil-A. They’re locals, cooking the food that they know best and no one, not even a billion dollar enterprise, could compare to what they’re serving up.

So when my CS host Chong How offered to take me to a hawker center for breakfast . . . and then lunch . . .and then dinner, I had to contain my desire each time to run out the door with tears of joy, and instead replied aloofly by simply saying, “Sure.”

Clean Green Singapore

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 16 Apr 2009 23:33:00 +0000

With Earth Day just around the corner, I wanted to give kudos to Singapore, my newest destination and one of the cleanest island/city/states I’ve ever been to.

What Singapore lacks in square mileage in comparison to the rest of its Southeast Asian counterparts, it certainly makes up for in standard of living and environmental awareness. On just my first night here, I was greeted by an abundance of recycling bins, signs reminding people of conservation, and a concert in the park null of any equipment requiring electricity.

I was even lucky enough to stumble upon the “Sustainable Singapore” exhibit at the Marina Barrage. Each gallery in the exhibit highlighted a specific effort to reach sustainability, from water reclamation to maximizing what little land the country has.

Its message to tourists and locals alike is that each person, no matter what part of the world you’re from, shares in these responsibilities. And I must say, I’m in admiration of this country for its efforts to become an environmentally responsible member of the earth.

The Fish Spa

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 14 Apr 2009 15:07:00 +0000

It's any ichthyophobic's nightmare. A fish pedicure.

It's my first night in the Malaysian town of Melaka, and I'm walking along the town's famous night market along Jonker Street. Stall after stall, I'm finding useless knick knacks from magnets to plastic flowers, nunchucks to pirated dvd's - nothing that really catches my eye or that I would find even remotely useful. That is until I spot a sign that reads "Gogo Fish Spa."

I turn to see where the arrow on the sign is pointing and I see a shop full of white people, sitting around a pool with their feet dipped into the water. My feeling has always been that any time you see more tourists in one place than locals, chances are it's probably a gimmick. But with these tattered feet of mine and curiosity getting the best of me, I decided to go inside and take a look.

When I walked in, I instantly envisioned gigantic jaws-like fish in the pool, tearing apart the flesh of these poor unsuspecting women with their eyes bulging out of their faces and screaming from the top of their lungs. Oh, the price of beauty.

"It's not that bad," one of the women said in a distinct Australian accent, snapping me out of my mind trip, "you should try it." And at closer inspection, she was right. It was quite the contrary.

Fish spas have become the latest trend in some Asian nations, including Japan, South Korea, Thailand, and now Malaysia. Small pools are filled with tiny tropical fish called doctor fish, and from the moment you place your feet (or any part of your body for that matter) in the water, they swarm to you and begin to vigorously nibble away at the dead skin on your body.

When I finally made the decision to do it, I washed my feet off, sat down on the edge of the pool, and placed my feet in the water. Immediately, the tiny fish detected new forage and came to eat my feet. The sensation feels like a million tiny suction cups sucking in every possible crevice of your foot. At first, I had trouble containing myself and had to laugh outloud, but after a while I became numb to the tickling sensation.

So my verdict you ask? With my baby soft feet to show for it, I think the tourists might be on to something. This is one spa that the locals shouldn't miss out on for too long.

At peace in Manta, and a quick glimpse into the near future

noreply@blogger.com (Christian) — Mon, 13 Apr 2009 14:51:00 +0000

De Huacachina, Perú

I was gonna title this "News from Manta" but stopped myself because this entry's a lot more than that. Though in my eighth month of travel (Suzanne), yesterday, April 11th, marked the seventh full month that I've been away. Seven months!!! Where did the time go? Everything feels like it just happened. As I've mentioned before, this has been the most documented year of my life. If you were to give me any date within the last 7 months, I could tell you where I was, who I was with, how I felt, and maybe even what I was wearing. Creeepyyy.

I am currently taking refuge in a rundown little internet shop in the coastal city of Manta. I spent the last weekend in Montañita, a beach town about 3 hours south. My plan was to come directly to Manta, but my couchsurfing host from Guayaquil invited me to come with her and a few other CSers, one from Texas, one from Argentina, and a third from Germany, to "party" in Montañita for the feriada, or Easter holiday. More on Montañita later (eventually, i.e. never...), but I really just wanted to log on and put in writing some things that've been on my mind.

One, and I was just reminded of this a while ago, I think it's a very oppressive thing to have to pay to use a restroom. Most common at bus terminals, but really seen all throughout South America, the proper and sanitary disposal of human excretions is regulated in this way, and it makes me sick. I get that someone needs to be paid to maintain these places, but often times they are SO disgusting you wonder what the hell you're paying for. At the end of the day, personally, 10 cents (today's fee) is nothing. But what about the person for whom 10 cents IS something? They have to hold it, which is SO unhealthy, piss their pants, gross and also unhealthy, or use some back alley or dark corner, gross and unhealthy on a public health level. The latter I've witnessed so many times since entering the more poverty-stricken countries, starting with Bolivia.

Internet shop is closing. BRB.

Back, though now it's early Monday morning and I'm in another rundown little internet shop, this time at the bus terminal in Quito, waiting a bit before I call my next CS host, Rick.

Continued: Some days I'm caught without 10 cents, so it affects me just the same. Really, if I only had a US$5 bill in Ecuador, for example, and tried to pay with it to use the W.C. or SS-HH, and I'm still not completely sure what those acronyms mean, they wouldn't take it. Which brings me to my second complaint (dammit, I guess I'm just being a nag, but let me vent a bit, yeah?), one that I've had since Argentina, where the situation was most frustrating: There is a serious problem with the currency in every Latin American country, with the exception of Brazil, I'd say. In Argie, for example, you would need exact change to use a public bus, so if you only have bills, forget it. If you've just taken out money from an ATM, you most likely received all 100 peso bills, and GOOD LUCK trying to break those bad boys. I'd be all around Buenos Aires like a chicken with my head cut off, trying to find a shop willing to do me the favor of breaking my bill so that I could get to where I needed to be. But yeah, it's also a problem in Ecuador, where a store just won't sell you something because they demand sencillo, or change. In Peru it's the same, and in Bolivia it's heartbreaking because they beg for the sencillo, not wanting to lose out on a purchase.

Hmmm, I know what you're thinking: I thought you said you were at peace, man? But I am! These are observations and I'm allowed an opinion. I think one thing I'm getting from this trip is clarity. I feel more at peace with myself and the decisions that I've made in my life thus far. Maybe these observations are a result of this newfound clarity, finally moving away from internal struggles and really reflecting on what's going on outside of me. Or maybe I'm not making sense...

I was in Manta yesterday, but only for split second. Literally, I arrived thinking I might stay a night, but as soon as I stepped out of the bus terminal I marched right back in and bought a ticket to Quito. One, it looked a bit sketchy and I failed to make any CS connection in the city, and two, I needed to move along a bit faster anyway. (I leave for Galapagos on Saturday!) After a 10-hour, overnight bus ride, I arrived in Quito, Ecuador's capital.

Montañita was very relaxing, and one thing I was able to accomplish was to sit down and plan my last 2 months of travel. To summarize it, I've decided to push through to Colombia right after my return from Galapagos, so that I can also visit a few cities in Venezuela and have enough time to get back to Colombia and find a boat ride to Panama from Cartagena. Ay ya yai! Cities I'm looking forward to are Manizales, Bogotá and Santa Marta in Colombia, and Merida and Caracas in Venezuela.

Lots to do in the next few months, and though I'm homesick to the extreme and pretty much over living out of a backpack, I'm looking forward to what's still left of South America.

Hop-On Hop-Off

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 09 Apr 2009 08:39:00 +0000

It’s been pouring outside for the past three hours, and the dark clouds and earth shaking thunder have forced me to find refuge in one of Kuala Lumpur’s “Hop-On Hop-Off” tour buses. As the bus continues to circle around the city, stopping at each of the 42 attractions this metropolis has to offer, I have no plans of “hopping off” until the down pour subsides. Instead I’ll remain in here, watching the rain stream down the other side of the window, to think about my time in Malaysia thus far.

Kuala Lumpur reminds me a lot of Los Angeles: lacking buildings/monuments commemorating its country’s culture, an unreliable public transport system, and bumper to bumper traffic all day long. I love it. In fact, nothing I’ve seen so far in KL makes me feel like I’m in a third world country. I actually feel really at home here, in a sea of different colored faces, all of who speak English fluently.

What fascinates me the most is the apparent presence of Malaysia’s three ethnic majorities - Malay, Chinese, and Indian – and the obvious divide between the three communities. With Chinese settlers arriving on their own accord in the 15th century and Indians migrating during British colonization in the 18th century, it’s surprising the lines separating the ethnicities remain intact until today. Each maintain their own schools, shops, social organizations, and according to my CS host Richard, interracial marriages rarely, if never, occur.

At any rate, I’m looking forward to my next destination in the UNESCO city of Melacca, 3 hours south of Kuala Lumpur. But until the rain subsides and the thunder ceases to shake every nerve in my body, I think I’ll continue to hang out in here, riding in circles around Kuala Lumpur, until I’m ready to “hop-off” and wander my way through the rest of this city.

Vilcabamba and Cuenca, Ecuador

noreply@blogger.com (Christian) — Thu, 09 Apr 2009 05:13:00 +0000

I just got into Cuenca a few hours ago after an awkward 2 1/2 days in Vilcabamba, Ecuador, the location of the "fabled" fountain of youth and my first stop in Ecuador.

I was already behind schedule. My time in Peru passed the 2-month marker by about 2 days, and I needed to get the funk out (as much as I loved Mancora). So I embarked on my first border crossing in 2 months, which went smoothly (and I've been very lucky about this all throughout S.A.), and in no time I was in Loja, Ecuador. (BTW, they don't stamp your passport in Ecua. They run it through this machine that encodes some text on one of the pages. Weak sauce! And fellow viajeros, don't you hate it when the aduana guy takes up 3 spots on a page with one stamp, si o no?) Gotta make that passport last!

On the bus I made friends, kinda, with a Swedish couple. I say "kinda" because couples are always hard to crack, the ice that is. This holds true more so for European couples than anyone else. Especially the Germans. Don't get me started on the Germans. Haha. (But I still love Germany and WILL make that part of the world my next destination. Amsterdam to Berlin, Eva!) In the end, the three of us made our way to the hostel Agua de Hierro. Turned out we both picked up the same brochure in Mancora and were sold on what they had to offer.

When we got there, the hostel, in my opinion, was bogus. They claimed to be a resort priced for backpackers, where one could go to be relieved of the stress of long-term travel, for only $6. Nothing worked properly (i.e. hot tub, showers even) and they charged extra for everything that did work properly. I left the hostel to explore the city and met an ex-pat from Las Vegas named Lee. He and his family moved to Vilcabamba and opened up an Italian restaurant and book exchange. When I walked up to his shop he was painting a colorful, artsy sign for his restaurant. Anyway, I mentioned my hostel to him, he said "eesh" and proceeded to give me the low-down. El chismoso me dijo que supposedly the previous owner was slipping drugs into the drinks of his clients and raping them. He got busted, fled town, and his relatives took over and changed the name of the hostel. (FYI, previously Las Ruinas.)

And I knew something was up, because the general vibe for that place was a little haunting. Lee recommended that I stay at his homie's place 4km up-river. I didn't waste anytime in packing my bags and relocating. I would have left Vilca altogether, but just my luck, there'd been a landslide on the main road out of the small city to Loja, where I'd need to return for a bus to Cuenca. So I was stuck. Adding to the misfortune, the landslide took out the main electric cable for Vilca and the entire city was out of power.

The place Lee sent me to was called Cabañas Rio Yambala, and the hike uphill with all my belongings was horrendous. I was to get there, ask for Charlie, and tell him Lee sent me. Sweet, but I got there and the place was a ghost-town. Nobody was at the front desk and the intercom was out of service because of the outage. I was hungry and needed a glass of water SO BAD! I waited and waited, it rained and it rained, and finally Charlie's wife and two kids came walking up to where I was sitting. I was saved! They set me up real good in one of the nicer cabins (yes, a cabin, not a hostel), fed me, and just let me be. Very friendly people, and a breath of fresh air from the nastiness of the previous place. I had a huge bed, my own restroom, and a balcony looking out into the Vilcabamba cloud forest.

This is what I came here for, I thought. Beautiful birds, butterflies, flowers, insects, trees, all the things that made me fall in love with Costa Rica. I was there now, it felt like. I sat and read and wrote on my balcony until there was no more light. Then I relaxed in my room, listening to music and the sounds of the forest outside.

The next day the city was back to normal. I walked past Lee's place and thanked him for his connection. I even gave him a book I'd finished reading, and in return he gave me a bag of home-baked cookies he was selling for $2. The road back to Loja was still blocked, but some cars were being let through. I had to take a taxi to the landslide, get on the other side of it somehow, and then take another car to the nearest bus station. I eventually arrived in Cuenca, in one piece.

Continued days later...

I can't remember exactly why I chose to stop in Cuenca. Really, I don't have time to waste on cities that might not be that special. I've become less of an aimless wanderer and more of an organized tourist. (Like the Japanese, so I've learned. They go straight for the hot spots.) In the end I'm glad I made it to Cuenca for a few days. My host, a gringo named James, was a really nice guy, and the city was beautiful. James showed me around a bit, invited me to a capoeira class he helps teach, and I was able to book my Galapagos trip. James was also very generous with his computer and I managed to get a lot done.

But I'mma cut this blog now, because I've rambled and I'm sure it's more than you need to know anyway. Plus, I'm paying to use the internet by the hour. This blog cost me US$3. Booooo... But check back for pictures soon!

Galapagapagapagos, here I come!

noreply@blogger.com (Christian) — Wed, 08 Apr 2009 06:49:00 +0000

It's official! I booked my trip to the Galapagos islands today. I'll be flying out on April 18th and coming back to the mainland on April 25th.

One full week of what's said to be the most incredible display of marine wildlife on the planet! I just know this'll be one of the highlights of my trip. And to think that I had any qualms about making it to the islands! What was I thinking?

Well, for starters, it's the most expensive tourist attraction down here. Let me keep it real and say that the roundtrip ticket alone put me back $360-something. Eesh! Then extranjeros have to pay a $100 fee for even stepping foot on the islands. THEN, if I really want to make the trip worthwhile, I have to book a 5-day boat tour that goes for about $500 and even more during high season. And it's high season!

But I just know it'll be money well spent. Visiting Galapagos is definitely something I want to do before I die, so going now, as pricey as it is, is really an investment (so I don't have to fly my ass back down to Ecuador later). I freaked out earlier this week, because I tried to buy my airplane ticket online and there was zero space available for April on either of the two airlines that fly to Galapagos. In a panic, I rushed to the nearest travel agency to see if it was true, and it was. But apparently spaces held by tour agencies are released everyday. I booked the first available flight out.

So it's set. I'm going. I'll take lots of pictures and post them ASAP. Now off to bed!

Recommendations:
Aerogal and Tame are the two airlines that fly to the Galapagos. Flights are cheapest roundtrip from Guayaquil. Both airlines charge about the same price, so I say pick a date well ahead of time and just book it! Don't be a lagger, like me. Also, you can fly out from Guayaquil and come back to Quito, or vice versa, for a bit more. Don't be a dumbass, like me. I figured this out too late and now I'm bussing back and forth from Guaya to Quito. Bogus!

Just when I thought I was safe

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 06 Apr 2009 14:40:00 +0000

I have a flight to catch for my next journey in Southeast Asia, and as I'm making my way through Manila, I'm making sure never to take an eye off my backpack and to watch every person that comes within 5 feet of me. As a solo female traveler I have to be on high alert wherever I go, because in this cut throat city, taxi drivers, crippled old ladies, and even children have been known to rip off unassuming travelers. I know that once I reach the airport, guarded by cameras, K-9's, and police officers, I'll be bit safer.

It's just too bad that as I'm being dropped off at the airport, I'm walking into much more danger than I thought I would.

The airport was desolate, with few passengers flying this afternoon. Checking in and passing through immigration was a breeze for me and I was filled with anticipation as I walked alone through the empty corridors towards my gate.

That's when he stopped me. “Miss, I need you to pass through the security checkpoint again,” said the airport policeman with a smile on his face. “Can you kindly follow me this way?”

Curious, but not suspicious since he was a man of the law, I followed him back to the x-ray machines where he directed me to put all of my belongings on the conveyer belt for a second inspection. I complied, and as my bag came out on the other end, he picked it up, unzipped it and pulled out my wallet. My heart sank to my stomach.

He then continued to look at my credit cards and count my cash. “Fuck,” I thought to myself, “I should have known better.” Corruption is rampant in the Philippines. From President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo herself all the way down to small town mayors, no one in these positions are ever punished for their blatant acts of thievery against the Filipino people.

It's no surprise then that I've been targeted, and I know that there's little I can do to stop him from taking everything in my wallet. I could get his name, file a complaint, pick him out in a line-up, and scream from the top of my lungs. He wouldn't be punished, maybe even heralded among his colleagues, and I would be left with almost nothing.

And so, the airport personnel and other policemen simply looked on, saying nothing as if his actions were routine. Finally he said, “follow me this way,” and began to walk away with my wallet still in hand.

“I'm sorry, I can't follow you until I get my wallet back,” I said firmly. “It's ok,” he replied, “we're not going very far.”

“I won't go anywhere until I get my wallet back,” I repeated firmly. Reluctantly, but with the same devious smile of his face, he handed me back my wallet. I quickly tucked it back deep into my bag and followed him like he asked.

In a small corner of the airport, he walked behind a desk and explained to me that I couldn't bring more than 10,000 PHP (200 USD) out of the Philippines. I was holding 20,000 PHP. Whether this true or not, I wasn't sure, but what I did know was that he was aiming to get something out of me. “I'm confiscating your money,” he said.

Was it really his business to be doing the work of Philippine Customs Officials? What gave him the right to open my bags and go through my wallet? And so, I said the only thing I could utter at the time, “I don't understand.”

I was playing dumb, doing my best not to fall into his trap, and I can see he was getting frustrated. “You're not listening. Are you stupid? You speak English don't you?” he said degradingly.

“If I can't bring out more than 10,000 Pisos, then I'll exchange some of my cash at that desk right there to a different currency,” I added. “No, why don't you give what I'm asking for and then I'll let you board your plane.” And again, I responded, “I don't understand.”

The degrading continued for another few minutes, and without anything from me to show for his efforts, he started to give up. Finally, he said, “I'll give you a choice. You can give me something or you can go and board your plane.”

At that moment, I turned around and walked away. Too afraid to turn around to see if he was following me, I walked straight into the women's restroom, closed the door behind me, and didn't move. I wasn't sure what to do at that point, where to go, or what to say if he accosted me again. But luckily for me, my gate was only a few meters away and I made it on to the plane without seeing him again.

Of all the places, people, and situations where I could have been robbed, this was the last instance where I thought that could have happened. And this just goes to show, that as a traveler, it's never convenient to let your guard down.

Nasca to Mancora, Perú

noreply@blogger.com (Christian) — Fri, 03 Apr 2009 18:50:00 +0000

Nazca, Huacachina, Lima, and Mancora. I'm gonna try and kill four birds with one stone here. I visited four Peruvian cities in 12 days, with the bulk of my time spent couchsurfing in Lima. What I thought would be 3 days max. in Lima turned into six. I think the solitude got to me after having explored Colca Canyon in Arequipa, the Nazca Lines, and the sandunes in Huacachina, all by myself. My host Ricardo in Miraflores was exactly the companionship I needed. So I rode that wave and remembered what it was like to be in the company of another human being.

Wait, no, I'm not always completely alone, but it's like that line from Bush's Glycerine, "I'm never alone/I'm alone all the time," meaning that there are obviously other people around me, just not any on the same wavelength. Does that make sense? I'm tired of small talk - conversations that lead to nowhere. It's rare that I meet someone who just understands me, and vice versa, and it get's really lonely. Ask me how many times I've met another Chicano on this trip? Not important, because I've made good friends with all types of people in S.A., but it wouldn't hurt. (I've come to learn that Chicanos don't travel like this. But why the hell not?)

As much as it is a very beautiful thing to spend time alone, to reflect, to read, to write, etc., I'm learning more and more each day that life is best experienced with others. Solitude in moderation. I'd say I'm living a very inbalanced life in that sense. One benefit I'm getting out of being alone for so many days is that I appreciate any contact with the people I care about so much more, even people whom I've met in one country and then again, randomly, 3 months later in another country. (It's a small world, for real, and I love seeing familiar faces.) Phone calls with family and friends, to hear their voices, to interact with the people that I love. Don't take it for granted! I thank those networking sites also, for what they're worth, but I've learned that it's not the way to do it. I'm so close to deleting all those silly accounts and going back to basics. En serio...

Here we go. Nazca, Peru (spelled Nasca in Spanish) is famous for the Nazca Lines: a series of enormous images, of animals and geometric shapes and patterns, etched into the desert thousands of years ago by the Nazcas - a civilization that reached its peak around 600 AD (according to my travel book). There's a lot of mystery surrounding the purpose of the lines. The leading researcher was a German woman, Dr. Maria Reiche, who claimed that they were an astronomical calendar. In any case, the lines are so huge and spread out so far, they're best seen from above in an avioneta. It was a very new experience for me to fly in a four person plane. I was scared, and news that a plane had crashed some weeks before killing three French tourists didn't help. Of course, I was told this after I was strapped in and sitting co-polit. Other than a bit of motion sickness, I came out alright.

Huacachina is a small town a few miles away from Ica, Peru, completely surrounded in desert sandunes. It reminded me of those movie scenes where someone is walking, lost and dehydrated through an endless desert, with the smooth curves of sand all around. The town itself was dead. On my first night, I stayed at a hostel, in a room with thirty beds, and I was the only one in it! I'm not kidding. It felt like an orphanage, and I was the last orphan waiting to be adopted. I left the second day and found a hostel where I paid the same price for a room with two beds, though still by myself. What made the trip worthwhile was climbing to the top of a sandune to read while overlooking the oasis, a 2 hour dune buggy tour through the desert, and sandboarding. I've got awesome video footage of the tour.

In Lima I couchsurfed in Miraflores, a part of the capital that at moments looked identical to some city in the US. In one intersection, for example, I saw a Chili's, TGIFridays, McDonalds, and Starbucks. This came out of nowhere for me, as the ride into Lima was the complete opposite. The road that brings you into the city is surrounded by a depressing sight of rundown shacks spread throughout an equally depressing and dull landscape. I felt like I was hiding from poverty staying in Miraflores. Ricardo and his boyfriend Greg were amazing. I didn't feel like being a tourist, so I hung out at the apt. until Ricardo got home from school. Then we talked, ate, watched movies, and walked his dog. I made it out to the malecon, or boardwalk, in Miraflores, and even a handful of clubs on one night, but I really just wanted to stay in and relax.

I skipped a lot of Peru to get to Mancora in the north. Mancora is a popular surf town, so I figured that if I got anything out of it, it'd be surfing lessons. I now understand why surfers get up so damn early and spend a good part of the day riding waves. It was so much fun! I was very proud of myself for being able to stand up on the surfboard, on my own, and ride a wave all the way in. If in Mancora and interested in lessons, look for the surf school called Waves for Development. It costs the same as all the others and they funnel money into the community.

And this is how my time in Peru came to an end. Lovely, but for the most part lonely. Pictures up soon! ;)