Into the Unknown

Well, we are at the point of no return. Our bus leaves from Quito tomorrow night at 10pm and will produce us in the frontier oil town of Coca, where we will hire a truck to take our supplies to the Shiripuno river. From there, we will be picked up and transported for two days down several rivers on motorized canoe. If you just happen to have an Ecuadorian map handy, we will be living approximately off the Rio Cononaco, near a settlement called Reparado close to the Peruvian border. The unknown is the draw of the adventure and there should enough to go around. As someone but it best, this will be a journey not of places but of time. A front seat tour of ancient living on the cusp of its probable contamination. Sure to be a defining point in my life and the magnitude of the experience should not be without a cause or vision. Therefore, as a person who has been an immensely positive influence in my life, I think that it is fitting that this trip to the Amazon be dedicated to the memory of Doc Porto. His fun-loving and charismatic attitude is what made us all love him and his effect will be ever-lasting.

Here´s to you Doc,

The Roadie

A plane or helicopter extraction date has been tentatively set for August 6. The blog is going on dead air and handwritten documentation will commence. May share this inner-monologue with you all if my thoughts dont get too dark. Fittingly, The Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad will be on the scheduled reading for the entry. Until then. Q

Tragic Loss

Came into town this morning after being away from email contact for a few days with the intention of notifying my family of Joe and I's pushed up departure date for this Tuesday into the Amazon. A phone call to my mother produced the information that close family friend Anthony "Doc" Porto passed away yesterday after suffering a heart attack. Most you reading this know Doc and are aware of such a tragic loss this is for everyone. My heart goes out to the Porto family as I know they are suffering.
I wish I could be there to pay my respects for the man that has been a close friend to me over the last few years. Doc was constant supporter of the idea of this trip and was one of the encouraging spirits that kept me motivated. An incredible man, whose character is known to all around KC. Wish I could write more about Doc's impact of my life, as it has been great, but I am still too shocked to think straight. He will truly be missed.
Not sure whats next as such devastating news on the eve of departure has left serious uncertainties.
Please keep the Portos in your thoughts.
Brian

My Old Self

For all those worried about my health (there were few), my GI espisode was brief and now I am back to my great self. Spent the last few days back at my home away from home in Mindo, Ecuador--the Lodge. The owners Tom and Mariela were so excited to see me that they bolted for the coast and left me to hold down the fort. Back to good eating and a steady dose of comtemplative idleness. At the moment, I am momentarily back in Quito killing time until Joe´s late night arrival from the states. Part of my meandering around the city brought me to the mall that housed a Radio Shack in the quest to find an inverter to fit the solar panels that we are bringing with us into the Amazon. With tremedous relief, I found something that will work, thus ensuring that my camera will be able to recharge and our invaluable ipods will play on to ease the hardships. This trip to the mall ended like my last three trips to a mall in South America--with a trip to the food court. The foresight of spending the next 2 months on a skimpy and bland diet in the Amazon was all the rationale my brain need to allow my body and wallet to take a tour of the food court extravagenza. The ordeal started with Pizza Hut, then to cheese fries, and finished with a Burger King cheeseburger. It was gluttonous and it was glorious. I am officially banning myself from future trips to the mall abroad. But a little slice of home never harmed anyone..

Picking up Joe, giving him the nickel tour of Quito and then were off to the lodge. The address is Mindo, Ecuador if anyone wants to visit in the next 10 days.

Looking for Taco Bell,
BQ

Crapped Out in Quito

Well, I arrived in Quito last night and awoke today to find out I had unwittengly smuggled a souvenir out of Colombia: a bad case of the runs. It sounds like an epidemic as I have heard that Amy, who is now safely back in KC, is facing a similar plight. I´d say the blame could possibly reside in 14 of the last 15 eating "establishments" we last dined in. And so, today was spent Imodium gobbling and running from locale to locale doing some price listing on equipment that Joe and I will be taking with us into the Amazon. Tents, sleeping bags, a whole pharmacy, and other miscellaneous items still need to be purchased. Unfortunately, cyanide pills were unavailable to buy in case things get bad so I have substituted the book on tape "Earth, 5,000 Years of Miracles" by Mike Huckabee in the hopes that will finish off whats left of me.

Heading to the Lodge tomorrow to help out Tom and Mariela until Joe arrives on Tuesday. Staying there until the pushed up June 29th entry date.

You can´t stop me..you can only hope to contain me,
Bq

PS. Word on the street is that Amy is going to submit a guest blog entry, which, after it is thoroughly punctuated with complimentary comments about myself, will be posted.

The Great Escape

Realizing that Amy was in desperate need of some R & R from her semi-stressful life and myself needing a break from my hugely stressful life, she and I along with the humorous duo of Dor and Tristian headed to the more remote destination of Playa Blanca. Reachable by boat, the beach boasts the only white sand near Cartagena and counts less than a couple dozen inhabitants post 5 p.m. The regular more desireable boats were not running that day and so we were fortunate to snag space on something that possessed the potential for a scaled down version of the Titanic. The boat was packed with people and re-supply cargo for the neighboring islands. We were given life jackets on the condition that if the boat actually sank, we would have to give them back so they could save the boxes of mayonnaise packets. To my dismay, we made it to the beach without incident. Nothing is as boring as certainty.

Unlike many over-priced tropical destinations, we enjoyed our position as among the few of the overnighters there--$3 hammock sleeping, $4 seafood plates, $6 body massages, and all the rum your body can(t) handle. It was the closest to heaven I'll ever get. I left Amy there with the promise that I would return to re-supply her in a month.

Without electricity, our night there was spent playing cards and repeatedly laughing at Dor's misuse of verbs in his non-native english--"we make a party!" Nice try Borat.

So far Amy has proved proficient as a travel partner and I am doing my best to try and get her to quit her job to join the cause. My main tactic is trying to persuade her that we need to get into the import/export business. We have already established the name: What Fell Off the Back of the Truck. What do you think? Sounds like a winner to me.

Our main topic of time-kills besides our endless round of hypothetical questioning has been trying to regurgitate the names of our 95 grade school classmates--with more points for the most obscure individuals--I got 10 points for remembering Monica Fischebach. Where are you Monica?

For all her positive qualities as a travel partner, I think I have a found a weakness in Amy: water. She is a freaking camel, requiring somewhere around 5 liters a day. I tried to show her that an evolved man does not require such an enormous amount of water by only drinking a few sips a day. I do not feel very well right now.

Hopping on a 5 hour bus north tomorrow to try and reach the touted coast in Parque Tayrona.

Lastly, I would like to give bday shout-out to Amy's cuz, Tiffany Smith, who is an avid reader of the blog and soon to be president of Planetary Vagabond's fan club. Also, I grudginly give another bday shout out to another of Amy's cousins, Stephanie Smith, who does not read the blog (get with the program) . Happy Birthday girls.

Secretly drinking water,

Brian

CEO

What Fell Off the Back of the Truck

The Dirty Side of Colombia

Here's the promised video and the pics are in the linked album.

The scariest part of the experience? Probably when the air bubble pockets started to rise from below or when I went to the bathroom in the mud and thought people were on to me...

Check out the local massuers-they were a nice touch.

Bizzaro,

Q

Carribean Carousing

The whole 15 hour bus ride from San Gil to Cartagena I hid underneath a hoodie from the super-A/C and the swarm of children, whose presence on an overnight bus is akin to running a marathon with a piece of glass in your shoe. I arrived to the anticipated carribean sizzle that makes being a creature only of the night the desired thing to do. So, while awaiting Amy Smith´s arrival on Saturday, myself, an Aussie named Tristan, and an Israeli named Dor spent the following 4 nights soaking up the carribean culture. Salsa beats and aji spiked rice are an everyday encounter, while the humidity is enough to make you sweat out the entire night. I finally met a culinary foe I could not conquer when eating a local´s restaurant I was given a bowl of soup with the hacked off chicken feet protruding out at me from the soup. This was no chicken fingers from Applebees, it was the real deal and it was nasty. And so the line was finally found in South America. My appetite stops at unskinned extremities.

Saturday brought Amy´s arrival and the whirlwind of activies has begun. Yesterday day and night was spent touring the old city and today brought an excursion to the "mud volcano," which when I first heard other travelers talk about this I thought they were using code words for what happened when they ate bad seafood. But actually, not far from Cartagena exists a mound of earth with a core 2,500m deep with liquified clay at the top in which you soak in. Don´t ask me the scientific details of how or why this came to be because I don´t know. But, it was one pretty bizzare experience for Amy and I. Explanatory pics and a movie to be posted later as this computer is going schizo on me for the moment.

Hopping a boat for the island of Playa Blanco tomorrow to peel shrimp and my skin all day.

Until later,

Brian

The Only Risk Is Wanting to Stay

So goes the slogan of the recent Colombian PR campaign to try and shed their former image. Here is the owner of the hostel that I was staying at in San Gil doing his government PR ad. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bFAtU8tJqqI
As you may have read yesterday, my total blog about my 3 day hike was lost--most likely because of carelessness in my tired state, but I would officially like to blame it on the computer. Just like my school days when something was lost, I just cannot bear to retype it and so I will give you the details in an abbreviated and bland way. I´m sorry.

Hostel owner: "I know a 3 day hike near here that is good to do, but there is no map and nothing is marked"
Me: "Great, sounds like something I should do by myself"
HO: "you can speak fluent spanish right?"
Me: "well......"

Day One: (may be good to follow on Google Earth--not sure if all towns are on there)
Start in town of Barichara at the beginning of Camino Real (4oo year old indigenous path)
Meet farmer Florentino who says he will go out of his way walking home to "guide" me on the path to the next town 2 hours away for somewhere around $0.60. Great. He has alot to say, I understand very little except that he is setting an record pace in his soleless shoes and I am dragging ass in my Merrells.
Arrive in town of Guane. Beautiful and calm. Talk to some Colombian tourists there who are seeing parts of their own country for the first time due to past unrest.
Florentine wants to guide me to the next two towns the following day (8 hour hike) as he and the other locals think that I will not make it in one day (they are right). I decline.
Wake up and start towards Villanueva, which should take me 3 hours. It takes 5 due to no signage and no locals to ask for directions. Cursing myself. Its very hot and I make the call to spend the night in Villanueva and depart for Jordan early the next day. In leiu of what happened earlier that day, I spend the night questioning about 30 locals regarding the direction of Jordan. Responses all contradict and approximate walking time estimates vary from 2 hours to 6. I plan on 6.
Depart early. The early part is through the countryside and I interrogate the 30 locals I encounter to confirm I am actually heading in the right direction. 15 of them look like the farmer on the Maxwell House coffee can (or whatever brand it is). After 3 hours I am atop a canyon and can see the destination town at the bottom. I am hopeful. Amazing view.
The next 2 hours down are rough. Finally at the bottom of the canyon, path disappears into a stream and dense forest where I totally lose my bearing. I half-panicking stumble around in it until I finally emerge right in front of farm house where the family outside is wondering what in the hell has just come out of the trees. They are nice and eagerly tell me what direction to head.
Arrive in Jordan, ghost town with lots of buildings, no vehicles and only about 30 people. Find the only house with a door open, ask to pay for lunch and find the logistics of getting out of there. None. But the house owner has a dirtbike and will take me out for a hefty fee. Great. Spend next hour riding on the back of his bike up the canyon. Think Motorcycle Diaries except the guy on the back is hugging the sh#t out of the man in front trying to stay on. He drops me off at the highway and I flag a bus to San Gil. Type blog and it is lost. Punch computer and swear off technology. Say sorry to computer and to the owner of the internet cafe and promise to leave quickly.
Take overnight bus to Cartegna. Its hot here.

BQ