Tales of the Travelin' Stache

So in standard form, it´s been a while since I last updated the world of what my stache has been up to. He has really gotten around so far this year. He even underwent a few notable changes over this last month as all of the sun exposure from frequenting Brazilian beaches gave him a slightly lighter color (or as one observer noted it as ¨ginger,¨ although comments such as this are very much discouraged). But no fear, he is currently nice and trimmed; a quite sophisticated look one might say.

My last update left me in Buenos Aires, after an incredible three weeks in Patagonia, on my way to Rio to partake in what is considered to be the largest Carnival celebration in the world with over 2 million visitors per day. And partake I did! I showed up to Rio a couple days before the festivities began and stayed with one of my good friends, Malay, with whom I worked last year in the Bay Area. She was so incredible to open up her apartment to me, and to several others, in fact, for those couple days as well as the several other days that I spent in Rio later in the trip. In addition to her hospitality and the enjoyment of catching up with a ¨buddy!¨ she also gave me the opportunity to have a more authentic experience of Brazilian culture. Capoeira is a Brazilian martial art that infuses dance and music into what capoeriistas call ¨games¨ in which the participants essentially play off one another with leg sweeps, jumps, flips, blocks, etc. all to the constant beat of the music. It is very cool to watch. She practices capoeira and brought me in to watch a little bit of the performances for which I was very grateful.

And then came the beers and the beaches and the hot dogs and my other great friend, Erik. The second he got into Rio all bets were off. We would wake up in our little studio(ish)-aparment with a view of the beach in Copacabana that we had rented for the week, throw on board shorts, grab some beers from the street vendor and head to the beach pretty much every day. We checked out several Blocos throughout the week, which are mini-street parades with either live music or music pumping from speakers on board a truck but always with dancing, that happen constantly throughout all of Carnival. Several nights we ventured out to the neighborhood of Lapa, which on any given Friday night turns into one big street party, but during Carnival becomes a gathering of hundreds of thousands of party-goers eager to drink, dance and enjoy one another´s company. On one of the nights we bucked it up and threw down the big money to see the Sambadrome show, which is the enormous parade that one envisions when thinking of Carnival in Rio. It was one of the most spectacular productions I have ever seen in my life. The costumes of the thousands of participants sparkled in unison brighter than anything I have ever seen, the choreographed dancing with such large numbers blew my mind away and the floats were on such a large scale that even from our vantage point from way up in the stands seemed impossible. And everything, absolutely everything, moved to the drum of the constant samba beat.

After Rio, Erik and I made our way up a little north to a beach-city called Búzios. Upon first arriving we were a bit anxious because it became increasingly apparent that the typical Búzios tourist was a little out of our league. While exploring the cobblestone streets we noticed that the average meal cost at least $25 or so and that popular clubs such as Pacha were charging something like a $60 cover charge. Erik and I are not ballers. At least not yet. But we are resourceful. We managed to find the spot that sold the $1.50 hamburgers and $1.25 tall cans of Itaipava beer that we eventually would frequent several times a day. Because of the $2.50 price tag (in Brazilian Reals) of the beers we endearingly labeled the establishment as ¨Two-fideeez¨ in homage to the ¨Buck-fideeez¨ that exists in Westwood (all of you UCLA folk should appreciate that). We also managed to find the Billabong bar, the one ¨club¨ to not charge an entrance fee. In addition to our gastronomic and imbibement choices we also spent every day visiting the different beaches that make Buzios famous throughout South America. One day we rented scooters and cruised around all over the city, managing to fit in 3 or 4 distinct beaches in just one afternoon. Here we are, two very white, tall guys on these 49 cc scooters that have serious trouble transporting me uphill, wearing bright v-necks and even louder boardshorts, cruising around town. At one point in one of the most heavily populated parts of the town we decided to play a game where if we saw a ¨1¨ we would give our scooters a double honk to express our approval. You can imagine we got some interesting looks from the people passing by, pedestrians and those riding in cars alike. Erik´s and my vacation came to an end when he had to catch a flight to go back to the states on February 27th and I posted up in Rio for a few days to recover a bit from all of the revelry of the previous 10 days. I had a blast with him, so Erik, thanks for making it happen! Great times.

After regaining my mental, emotional and physical strength I was one again back in the game. While in Rio I met a great Aussie who I would travel with for a handful of days and I met up with a few great Brits who I had first met in Búzios. The amount of people you meet while traveling and the ease with which you can connect with someone now through Facebook makes meeting and keeping friends on the road so easy, it´s great. With my friend Luke as my new partner in crime I soon found myself south of Rio on a tropical island off the coast of the mainland called Ilha Grande. The island is gorgeous, with several different beaches with names like ¨The Blue Lagoon,¨ with boat tours of the entire island and with several hiking trails entering the condensed jungle covering the bulk of the island. We took a booze cruise one day (kind of a tour of the island) with all-you-can-drink carapinhas, the traditional Brazilian cocktail made up of a solid base of cachaça and then tons of sugar and lime. I also did a little snorkeling and general beach going over the few days I was there. From Ilha Grande I took on 27 hours of straight transit; 1.5 hours on the ferry from Ilha Grande to the mainland, 8 hours from Angra dos Reis to Sao Paulo and then about 18 hours from there to Foz de Iguaçu. Iguazú Falls left me completely awe-struck. The Brazilian side offers the spectator a pleasant panoramic view of the massive width of the falls but does not hold a candle to the grandeur to the Argentinian side. Viewing the falls from Argentina allows you to get so close to the falls that they quite literally blow you away. The force of the water´s impact reverberates within your chest as if you were standing only feet away from a speaker dropping the base at a concert. Not only was the sheer power of the water impressive but the way in which the surrounding vegetation incorporates itself within the water is stunning. Visiting the falls on the Argentinian side is not about ¨checking off¨ something from your to-do list while in South America, it will completely amaze you!

I left Iguazu on the 8th of March and arrived in Montevidéo, Uruguay where I would spend the next few days. Granted that I did not do much research into Uruguay and the fact that I was ready for some R & R, but I did not find much to do in Montevidéo. I would walk around aimlessly trying to find something, pretty much anything to do; an outdoor market to peruse, a museum to explore, a park to discover, but I was somewhat unsuccesful. Again, I don´t mean to shortchange Montevidéo because of my lack of preparation but I´m just telling you what my mustache had to say about all of it. After Montevidéo I made it to Colonia, a pleasant little port town on the River Plate separated from Buenos Aires by about 50 miles. It´s cobblestone streets and quaint little restaurants were romantic enough but after only one day I was ready to get back to Buenos Aires, which is exactly where you can find me now!

I have been here since this past Monday the 12th and will be here until Tuesday night, the 20th when I will depart for Córdoba, Argentina. I absolutely love this city. There are people out walking around constantly, the outdoor cafés are constantly filled with Porteños and the neo-classical, neo-colonial architecture reminds me of Europe. I have had such an incredible opportunity to hang out with locals as I have stayed with the family of a friend of my dad´s in Recoleta and I have met with another friend of my aunt´s and consequently what seemed like her entire family for dinner one night. I stayed up late one night with some locals sipping mate and discussing contemporary music in Buenos Aires. I attened a crazy, artsy performance that only locals would have know about just the other night. Tomorrow I will go sailing, check out the markets that scatter throughout San Telmo on the weekends, or go up to Pilar to meet with one of these mutual acquaitances.

So that´s where things are now. I will be back in the States in a couple weeks to begin my crazy month of April, which I will describe in detail when I get there. Before that happens it is Buenos Aires, Cordoba and then to Chile. And for anyone interested, I will most likely have nailed down the law school decision by the time I post my next blog so I will be sure to throw that in there as well. Enough for now, thanks for reading if you made it through everything. Oh yeah, and there will be about 3 months worth of pictures and video going up on Facebook at some point in April.

:{ (That´s supposed to be a mustache.)

Chris

After a short travel intermission in Chicago (unpack, laundry, go to the bank, eat well, repack) in only a matter of days I had left the wonderfully, smelly streets of Delhi to find myself on the broad boulevards of Buenos Aires ready for the next leg of my adventure. I spent a few days in the Europeanesque South American capital for a few days, much of which was unfortunately spent at the Brazilian consulate trying to secure a visa for the following leg of my trip, and was soon off to Punta Arenas in southern Chile to meet with my great college friend and last year roommate, Matt Luskin. I surprised him in the Santiago airport during my layover from Buenos Aires, which officially signalled the beginning of an awesome, and at times ridiculous, 3 week trek from Punta Arenas to Coyhaique, Chile.

Our first active day we checked out the hilarious penguins on Isla Magdalena, just a short boat ride away from Punta Arenas. The penguins go to the island to hatch their eggs in the summer months and when we showed up the chicks were not too far from getting ready to take to the ocean on their own. We then headed up to Puerto Natales and on the following day began our 4 night, 5 day trek throughout Torres Del Paine, the most breathtaking national park I have yet to visit. Neither one of us (especially Matt, cough cough) packed very lightly for the trip. Matt had brought something like 6 or 7 entire changes of clothes... That in addition to the food, camping gear, water, etc. we ended up calculating that his bag weighed around 75 lbs (mine we thought might have been around 65). And we think these estimates were pretty accurate considering that´s what seemed to dominate our conversation for the first day of hiking that spanned over 8 or 9 hours. ¨Well my bag weighed 23 kilos in the airport, and the food must weigh...¨

We did a portion of what is called the ¨W trail¨ (the trek resembling the shape of a W from a bird´s eye view) but were unfortunately unable to make the whole trek because of fires that had erupted a week or two before we arrived. The impossible jagged peaks rising out of the mist, the bountiful waterfalls, the milky-green colors of the glacial lakes, the frostbitten-blue color of the glaciers themselves all lended themselves to knocking the wind out of us (and when we swam in the glacial water it literally DID knock the wind out of us). While the weather is quite tempermental in Patagonia, with Torres del Paine being no exception, on a clear day you could not have asked for more beautiful or picturesque scenery. Taking pictures became quite a task because it seemed everytime you turned around there was another landscape in front of you worth of the click of your camera.

After Torres del Paine we made our way up north, crossing Argentina, to El Calafate. We did not see the famous Perito Moreno glacier outside of the city (it seemed to be too touristy of a venture and we are obviously way above that...) but we did manage to enjoy our first all you can eat typical Patagonia BBQ meal. It´s called a parrilla and man, after eating lentils, bread and instant mashed potatoes for 5 days straight we both gorged ourselves on kilos of delicious steak, lamb, and interestingly enough the chinese buffet that centered itself in the restaurant. With still full stomachs the next day we headed further north and found ourselves in the small outdoorsy town of El Chaltén. El Chaltén serves at the doorstep to several wonderful trails and multiple-day hikes so we threw our enormous backpacks on our shoulders and got after it again, checking out Mount Fitz Roy on day one and then Cerro Torres on the next (although unfortunately the clouds, spitting rain, and wind completely obscured any visibility on the second day).

From El Chaltén we took a boat across Desierto del Lago, went through Argentine migration and had us stamped as officially out of the country and then spent the night camping in official no man´s land, in between the border of Argentina and Chile. The following day we hiked through to cross into Chile, then took another boat across Lago O´Higgins, and made it to Villa O´Higgins by that night. That night the story of ¨The Black Egg¨ became alive. I´ll elaborate to those who are curious at a later time. The following morning we managed to hitch a ride from an older American couple who had stayed at our hostel up north to Cochrane, stopping in a little town called Caleta Tortel, a smaller and less romantic version of Venice but quite nice all of the same. This ride was the first stint on the Carretera Austral, a gravel road that weaves its way through rural Patagonia from Villa O´Higgins all the way up to Puerto Montt. Its existence stands as a symbol of mankind´s technological advances and determination to push something into creation in spite of the obstacles that lay in the way. The road slices through huge boulders with the mist of waterfalls drizzling on passing cars, intricate tubing systems direct surging glacial melt under or around the road, it hugs impossibly tight turns and at time seems to barely hang on to level ground only feet away from a thousand foot dropoff into the canopy. It had rained the day before and there was still some moisture in the air so Matt and I were so lucky to witness the hundreds and hundreds of waterfalls along the drive, some hidden behind the trees, some wide as a river, some barely trickling along. And of course as always, misty conditions and the emergence of the sun meant several rainbows as well (no double rainbows unfortunately).

After a day in Cochrane, and a bit of unsuccessful hitchhiking we bused up farther north to Puerto Rio Tranquilo and checked out some fascinating marble caves that hang over the clear blue water of Rio Tranquilo. The water and caves and surrounding green mountains all gave the impression of some tropical location, but one touch of the freezing water and one knew that was incorrect. We also ate lots of empanadas in Puerto Rio Tranquilo, as we had throughout most all of the trip to that point to be fair. After Rio Tranquilo we made our way to our final destination of Coyhaique!

Matt and I just about spent every waking hour together for almost 3 weeks and we had such a blast. There were the long hikes when it would be just the two of us singing some Motown and the moments of hilarity trying to spit out mostly incomprehensible Spanish to our usually sympathetic audience. We conducted an interesting experiment by putting two people of different builds and makeups together for that long of a time period and literally eating, drinking, consuming the same amount of everything. It turns out that your bodies (at least ours) seemed to fall into the exact same schedules. No need for details here. Anyway, killer trip and I recommend everyone to travel to Patagonia and to bring a friend as well if you are so inclined.

Now... I am just minutes away from taking off from my spot in Buenos Aires and getting on my flight to Rio. I will be in Rio for the next week or so and in Brazil for a total of almost 3 weeks. That´s right, I will be in Rio for Carnival. I know, I know... I will be as safe as possible. The mustache is looking great and I think it´s going to look even better complimented by a speedo on the beaches of Copacabana!

Ciao for now everyone,
Chris

Since my last blog update, when I was in La Paz, Bolivia complaining about my delayed flight, over a month has passed, the Holidays are over, I have been to two other continents and now I find myself back in South America, but this time in Buenos Aires, Argentina. What a ride it has been. In a matter of three days I went from being in South America (La Paz then to the Lima Airport), stopped by home in Chicago for a night, and then departed the following day to arrive in New Delhi, India. Don´t worry environmentalists, I´m tracking the miles I´m logging this year and plan on making a donation to one of those organizations that is supposed to help you offset your carbon footprint (any suggestions on reputable sites of that nature?).

My parents, Rob (brother), Amy (sister-in-law to be), and I showed up in New Delhi on the 17th of December. We wouldn´t meet my other brother Nick and his fiancé, Stacy, until Christmas Eve, but that didn´t stop us from starting the fun without them. We traveled to the far west side of India first, flying into Jodhpur, to check out Mehrangarh Fort, a fort built in the 15th century with a fascinating history and a commanding view of the ¨Blue City¨ as Jodhpur is called because of the heaps of blue houses lining the streets. In Hinduism the color blue signifies that the individual living in the home comes from the Brahmin class, the highest and holy caste. However, our guide informed us that people today like to paint their houses blue just to make it seem that they are up in that category of people and that not all of the houses we saw were really those of holy people. Posers. After the fort we stopped by a Bishnoi village (the name Bishnoi coming from the 29 tenets that they live by--namely live in harmony with nature and don´t kill any living creature whether animate or inanimate) and learned how they make opium (don´t get any ideas).

After Jodphur and the village we set out even farther westward and finally made it to the little village that we would stay at for the next few days called Siana in the Indian state of Rajastán. It´s worth mentioning that on the bumpy van ride to Siana there was some serious ice breaking going on when our guide, Rajveer, decided to pull out a bottle of Royal Challenge, a type of Indian Whiskey. From that moment on our family knew we were in good hands. Our time in the village and the surrounding semi-desert land was fascinating, complete with a camel ride (ouch), night-time safaris, sleeping in military-style tents, nature hikes and much more. The food we had there was spectacular and was all home cooked by the wife of the man who owned the place we were staying at. It was great to get a taste (more like 3 platefulls a meal) of the local cuisine and to share the couple´s company at each meal. I think my favorite part was driving around in the open-air jeeps and having all of the village children run out of their homes with smiles from ear to ear screaming ¨TATA!!!¨ at the top of their lungs. Not only did it make us feel like rockstars but the sheer excitement and genuine happiness that shown through those faces was great enough to make even the biggest grump smile.

After Siana we stopped by both Udaipur and Bharatpur and made our way to Agra to see the Taj Mahal. What an incredible feat of man! I was blown away by it´s vastness, the deep off-set white of the marble, but mostly I was amazed to learn that it served no function other than that of a Mausoleum. I have always had some understanding of the story behind it, but that king built that whole thing JUST for his dead wife?! I figured it had to have some practical or spiritual value in addition to serving as a mausoleum but I was wrong. Romantic? Wasteful? Certainly gorgeous.

After the Taj we (Mom, Dad, Rob, Amy and I) made our way back to New Delhi on Christmas eve, singing Christmas carols the whole way while niipping on some more of India´s finest, to meet up with Nick and Stacy at the Radisson Hotel. Although it was quite an alternative Christmas for all of us we managed to still uphold some of our family´s traditions on that night and on the couple following. We watched ¨How the Grinch Stole Christmas,¨ read a stave from ¨A Christmas Carol,¨ exchanged some gifts and watched ¨Christmas Vacation.¨ The holidays are about WHO you are with rather than WHERE you might find yourself.

On Christmas day we arrived in Kanha National Park, where we would spend the next few days. Each day we went out on two safaris, one in the morning and one in the evening, which are the best times to spot tigers. And we had success! We saw tigers on three or four occassions with one of them being on the back of an elephant. After Kanha we made our way farther east, almost to the border of Burma, to set up shop at Kaziranga National Park for a few days. We had a similar schedule in Kaziranga in terms of our jeep excursions but instead of finding tigers we saw loads of one-horned rhinos (I think 77 to be exact), wild elephants, plenty of birds, jackals, and all kinds of stuff. Otherwise in Kaziranga we continued to stuff ourselves at every meal (Indian food was beginning to wear on some of us a little by this point) and had some momentous nights. One of these nights was momentous because my oldest brother Nick popped the big question to his girlfriend Stacy which was soon followed by the popping of a bottle of champagne that had been traveling with me for almost 2 weeks. The second big night that we had was New Years Eve when we all stayed up until the wee hours of the morning dancing to Cee Lo Green and getting ceerrraazzyyy.

After Kaziranga is where the trip with the family ends and my own personal voyage in India begins. I set off to Rishikesh India on the second of January and found myself outside the gates of Parmarth Niketan ashram at 5 in the morning. Rishikesh, known as the ¨Yoga center of the World,¨ is situated right on the Ganges river and at the foot of the Himalayas and was put on the worldwide scene in the late 60´s when The Beatles visited to attend an advanced Transcendental Meditation training session. The next two weeks would be quite different from the experience I had with my family. I had enrolled in a two-week beginner foundational yoga course at the ashram in which each day I practiced asanas for 4 hours, worked on pranayama (breathing exercises) for thirty minutes, participated in vedic chanting for an hour, and had either guided or individual meditation from anywhere between half an hour to two. In addition to those activities I did plenty of reading and writing on my own, joined in for the Ganga Aarti ceremoney giving thanks to the Ganges river on the river bank every evening, listened to Swamiji, the Guru and spiritual leader of the ashram, lead discussions and did lots of spiritual introspection and reflection in general. I did not have an alcoholic beverage, nor did I inhale smoke of any sort, nor did I eat meat for those two weeks. It was a wonderful physical and mental clense for me and opened the gates to spiritual discourse that I have had sealed shut for several years.

In conclusion, India is a fascinating place. The people are wonderful and most will drop what they are doing in that instant to help you; not with an expectation to receive money and not to then feel entitled to bombard you with whatever goods they want to sell, but because most of the ones that I came across were genuinely kind, compassionate people. The geography of the land and the different cultures and types of people that inhabit the huge chunk of land are incredibly varied and rich. With Hindu temples and shrines apparent at almost every stop you make, the place reeks of spirituality. And yes, the big cities can also reek of not so appealing smells and the traffic can seem unbearable and noise from the horns can be deafening and the sheer number of people can be bewildering but that´s half the fun. Visit and see what it´s all about!

I´m in Buenos Aires at the moment, flying to Punta Arenas, Chile in Patagonia in about 6 hours and will update after trekking through the glaciers that define the southernmost part of South America. Another mustache will be joining me on this segment of the trip, found on the upper lip of one Matthew Luskin. It´s going down.

PEACE!

So it´s been a couple weeks since my last post and in my attempt to actually stay up-to-date with this blog I felt it was necessary to catch all of the interested people up to speed. I am currently in a Radisson Hotel in La Paz, put up for the night by American Airlines, after spending 17 hours at the airport yesterday trying to get back to the US of A. Airlines, even ones operated out of the United States, even ones that have AMERICAN in the company name, don´t exactly function the same in Bolivia as they do in the States or most likely anywhere else in the developed world. I arrived at the airport 2 hours before my 7:00 AM flight, to then have it delayed to noon, then to 1:30 (even though the computers said the gate was closed and the plane had left already), to then get on the plane for a couple hours, then get off of the plane, and then be trapped in a room with 50 other very upset, confused people. It took them until close to 10 PM to figure out that the flight wouldn´t take off and then finally reschedule for the next day. This is not the first problem I have encountered with American on this trip, so it is safe to say that I was not all too surprised to learn of them filing for bankrupcy the other day. Anyhow, the tirade is over.

I´ve spent the last two weeks or so doing what pretty much any tourist in Bolivia does. After leaving the park (a pinch of regret and dose of nostaligia still comes to mind at the mention of it) I spent a couple days relaxing in Sucre, Bolivia. Sucre is a quaint town/city, with nice colonial architecture with the red tiled roofs, and of course stacked with the quintessential South American plazaz and cathedrals. Sucre served a point of relaxation for me as I was able to enjoy cooler temperatures (not constantly sweating my you know what off constantly), I basked in the respite from the bugs, and I curled up on a mattress not made out of hay. I also ate food other than rice and potatos, which as someone who knows me well, might be able to appreciate how much in need my digestive system was of meat, spicy stuff, pizza, burgers, chinese food, burritos, you name it.

After treating myself in Sucre I headed to Potosí mainly only with the goal in mind to take a tour of the mines outside of the city. Potosí´s history is quite interesting and in many ways represents one side of Bolivia´s history in general. As is much of Bolivia, Potosí is extremely rich in natural resources, and back in colonial times it was the hotspot for silver in most likely all of the world. In fact, at one point it had one of the largest populations in the Americas and was considered to be one of the richest cities in the world. Unfortunately for the individuals working the mines and living in Potosí, nearly all of that wealth went to try to uphold the crumbling Spanish monarchy. Today, the mines are still in operation but there is little to no silver remaining and the city´s once booming economy and population now has dwindled into a ghost town. Even though I had already made up my mind to take the tour of the mines before getting to the city, it was not without several hesitations. I was first beset by middle-upper class, gringo guilt-- not wanting to further an already unflattering image. Then I also didn´t want to actually interfere with their work, get in the way of the carts rushing back and forth, step on some hydrologic cord that operates the drills, etc. But I decided to do it anyway and it was a great experience. In my tour, the miners were more than happy to speak with us and relate the terrible conditions (arsenic and abestos cover the walls, coupled with the very real dangers of dynamite and heavy machinery, making the average life of a miner in his 40´s or something) but they all did so with an immense amount of pride founded both on the traidition of the work and the sense of satisfaction that anyone receives from working with his (or her) hands. I felt better becoming aware of the working conditions and the daily routine of the miners rather than being happily ignorant. I also felt good that a portion of the tour cost went directly to the miners to supplement their scant weekly wage. If you´re in Bolivia and you don´t mind breathing in dust and arcenic and having to crouch over for a few hours, I recommend doing a tour.

Then I headed to the city of Uyuni to do a four-day tour of the salt flats, Salar de Uyuni. They were absolutely incredible and breathtaking but unfortunately no pictures that I post will do it justice. In the four days we spent the night on the flats (watching both the sunset and sunrise), we climbed a volcano called Tunupa, saw tons of flamingos, plenty of llama and alpaca and vizcacha, went to a national park with all kinds of geothermic craziness (geysers, red and green and orange colored lakes, bubbling ponds), slept in a hostel made almost entirely out of salt (save the mattresses thankfully), and had hours of driving on extremely bumpy roads (which is not too different from the experience one has on the ¨main¨roads in Bolivia). I´ll hopefully be able to post some pictures tomorrow to show you all what I am talking about because it was an incredible experience and a definite must do while in Bolivia (if you are low on time you can do a tour in fewer days).

From Uyuni came the 11 hour bumpy ride in a flota (bus ride) to La Paz. Just the next day I found myself 4,600 meters up the side of Huayna Potosí a mountain within Bolivia´s gorgeous Cordillera Real standing at 6,088 meters or 19,974 feet for all you EMERICANS out there. I opted to do the summit in two days, so I spent the first hiking from the drop-off point at around 4,600 meters to the high camp at 5,100 meters with everything that I was going to have for the couple days. The next day we woke up bright and early at just after midnight and my guide and I began the hike to the summit at around 1:30 in the AM. I was cruising at first. Crampons were digging into the snow, ice axe was keeping my balance, coca leaves were giving me that extra boost. All was good until just around 5,900 meters when things got a litttle dicey. I found myself having to walk three steps, stop and refocus, and then walk three more steps. I was so delirious by the time that I made the summit that I dropped not only the thermos, which would have been really nice to have something warm to watch the sunrise, but also a glove off the side of the mountain. Something in my head wasn´t exactly clicking; it was as if I was so preoccupied reminding my body to perform the standard involuntary actions, such as breathing, that my mind couldn´t exactly grasp other mundane actions (literally as in holding onto objects). Nonetheless, it was an wonderfully challenging and rewarding experience and I hope to climb some more 6,000 plus meter mountains in the future.

Then I headed back to La Paz for a couple party nights, in which I don´t necessarily need to go into too much detail on this forum. Let´s just say that when I headed to Lake Titicaca on Saturday morning at 8 AM I had not yet gone to sleep. I arrived in Cocacobana (on the Bolivian side of the lake) Saturday afternoon and then took the ferry across to Isla del Sol. My initial plan was to camp on Saturday night but the late arrival on the island in addition to the lack of sleeps due to the previous night´s festivities prevented me from having the energy to find a suitable place to camp. I found a hostel that only charged 40 Bs (just over $5) a night and was asleep by 8 that night. The next morning I rose bright and early to hike the 6 or so miles from the island´s southern end to the far north. I checked out some ruins, looked at a rock that kind of resembled a puma, and then went into the town on the north for some breakfast and to wait for a ferry to take me back. The island was gorgeous but I feel that I shorthanded it a bit by being so tired on the first day and then on the second day I was too hungry to really pay any attention to my surroundings as my mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of delicious eggs and bacon and coffee and anything (of which I only really got mediocre coffee). I recommend checking it out if you ever go, but if I were to go again I might do things a little differently...

Back to La Paz and then did the bike ride down the World´s Most Dangerous Road on Tuesday. It was rad! Parts were way more intimidating than I thought they would be as the gravel shifted underneath my tires throwing off my body weight only a few feet away from a multiple thousand foot drop. It rained for the last few hours which was not so rad, but it was all apart of the experience so I took it in stride. Do this too, even though it´s probably the biggest tourist trap in the entire La PAz area it is worth it.

So now, for all of you that I didn´t write to sleep, I will hopefully be getting on a plane with the final destination of Chicago this evening at 5:15 arriving tomorrow morning at 9:30 or so. I´ll get to spen a full 30 hours or so in Chicago before hopping on another plane (although I´ll be traveling in a bit more style for this flight) to New Delhi India on Satruday afternoon. So hasta luego to South America until mid-January and the next update will cover my travels in India, from New Delhi to Agra to tiger searching in national parks with the family!!

Adios,
Chris

As the subtitle reads, all good things I guess have to come to an end. Although, it doesn´t seem like the long-termers at the park abide by that saying as they seem to just keep coming back to Ambue Ari. I´ve given a quick summary or what park life looked like below—to any of you who read my email this is essentially the same post with a few minor changes and some stuff added to the end.

Before I forget, the moustache is looking strong. Had to trim it a little so I would stop accidentally chewing on it but it looks real nice. Almost 2 months in, I can make it for another 7…

Anyway, life over these past 6 weeks has been truly incredible. It´s
funny how time passes and you manage to put blocks of it together as
different themes or waves of activity or an overall feeling that
defines that period. That has most certainly been the case thus far in
my journey. The first week was mixed with the initial shock and
amazement of the park coupled with an abhorrence of the
bugs/heat/sweat/living conditions/food and asking myself ¨how in the
hell do people stay here for years on end?...¨ That was soon taken
over by the second week when park life began to really set in for me,
getting used to waking up at 5:45 and the daily routine. The third
week can be classified as really ¨coming to¨ in the park with all of
the people and finding my place in the group, camp-like dynamics. Also
in the third week as well as the fourth I truly began to create a
special bond with the cats that I have been working with. The last couple weeks everything became easier and almost a second nature of sorts and then at some point I unfortunately began counting down the days.

Here is a quick run down of what the day looks like. I wake up before
the 6:30 wake up call to do some writing or reading before everyone
else wakes (depending on what the previous night´s festivities consisted of)-- privacy is a luxury here not usually available except in
the early waking hours. I then eat my breakfast, usually just a few
rolls with jam and peanut butter, (except for the week that I bought 5
days of good breakfast at an auction the camp had and except for the
week that I had a slave that I bought at that same auction who cooked
me eggs each morning) and I get dressed and ready to go see Engine, my
temperamental yet loving ocelot . I walk the 15 or so minutes to
his cage swatting mosquitoes, dodging fire ant trees, unbuttoning my
shirt because the heat and humidity at 7:30 is already almost
unbearable, keeping an alert eye for snakes and tarantulas and finally make it to his cage greeted with his loud purr. I give him a little love through the fence, let him
lick me until he decides its time to swat at my hand with his claws
out and then get him on his leash. We then walk, anywhere from 5
minutes to 7 hours, depending if he is in the mood to move or to
sleep. ¨Patience is a virtue¨ never had as much of a profound
significance until I came here. After our walk, or his sleep rather, I
clean out his cage, put his meat out and then the trickiest part,
unattaching him from the leash without him drawing blood; I do not
always win this game (but it´s never really that bad).

Then I make my way to Ru´s cage, a badass jaguar. Ru is my favourite (don´t tell Engine this) and especially in the last few weeks we grew much closer. I
don´t walk Ru but I do run around his cage with him inside, chasing
him, letting him stalk me and then always letting him lick the hell
out of my arms with his sand paper tongue. By then end I was able to get my
whole arm through the cage and give him a belly scratch while he rolled
on his back. I then put him on his runner system (a wire that you can
connect his collar to with a rope) that lead out to the river where I
can join him for a swim or read my book under the safety of a mosquito
net watching king fisher birds, hawks, and all other sorts of wildlife
around me. I then hide his food throughout his cage, sometimes placing
it as high as 30 feet or so up a tree and get the satisfaction of
watching him essentially run 90 degrees up to snatch it. Or attaching it to a wire suspended 10 feet or so mid air and watch him swat it off. So effing
cool! (I will have video and pictures of both.)

I make it back to camp, eat lunch (chicken monday and meat Thursday),
play volleyball or read and then get back out to see a cat. For a week
I worked with a female Jaguar, named Katie, who was on heat at the
time. There´s a wild male jaguar roaming around and so they wanted 3
people to walk with Katie as she desparately, hopelessly, called out
to her male counterpart. Not sure what 3 people would do against a
horny male jaguar, but who knows, nothing happened. When I wasn´t with Katie I would go back out with Ru or help with construction or a variety or other things.

Then I get back to camp, shower and feel clean for about 5 minutes
before the sweat starts again (¨am I still wet or is the sweat already
starting?), eat dinner and on several nights of the week we make our
way into Santa Maria for a little fiestaing. Cool hitches so far: top
of a tanker, top of a logging truck (while straddling an enormmous log
about 10 feet off the truck bed), back of motorcycles, a pickup truck
that had no brakes, and more that I probably cant think of
right now. We do our fiesta-ing, playing poker with cigarettes that
cost about a dollar a pack, dancing on the ¨dancefloor¨ (concrete
slab) to an ecclectic mix of music (I´ve heard ´Tip Drill´by Nelly
probably over 100 times since being here, Bruce Springsteen was big, Hotel California by the end Vanilla Ice and Sir Mix A lot picked up steam), drinking potable or beers
or rum that tastes like water, so many activities. Then we get back to
camp around 10:30 or 11 unless it´s Friday and we get back a bit
later.

So thats what my days looked like at the park. Notable things; I had to break a live
chicken´s neck to feed it to Ru and ended up snapping its whole head
off, I helped move an unconscious 150 lb puma to his new cage through
the jungle, I helped move two ¨baby¨ pumas to their new cage (each one, in addition to the cage weighed 145 kilos so like 330 lbs or something) I am getting to like coca leaves in the morning, i got a little bite on my foot when swimming with Ru by what by all measures are pointing to a pirana (sounds way cooler at least), and I might have some battle scars if they decide to stick around—I´ve been doing my best pulling off the scabs.

So it´s all over now… big time frown face. I was so close to changing my mind on several occasions throughout the 27 hours it took me to get from the park to Sucre, where I am now. But there are good things to come. I´m staying in a hotel, smelling much better, eating meat and generally happy albeit a little lonely now that I´m not surrounded by 30 plus friends constantly. I´ll stay here until tomorrow (once my laundry is done and I´ve caught up on some more sleep on a real bed) and then head to Potosi to check out the mines there and then to the Salt Flats. If you haven´t seen any images of the salt flats go to Google Images and check them out—so rad! That´ll be a 3 or 4 day journey with the salt flats then I head to La Paz where I will spend about a week. During that time I want to check out Lake Titicaca for a day (laugh, you know you want to), ride down the worlds most dangerous road and climb Huayna Potosi a 6,088 meter high mountain outside of La Paz. Who knows maybe I will even be able to go skiing?!

Thanks for reading if you still are and pics will come in mid-December when I stop by home before heading to INDIA!

Much love and Ciao!

-Christo