Brianandria

When Alexander the Great founded the Mediterranean port city of Alexandria, he had a vision of creating a culturally diverse and powerful center of trade between Europe and the Near East. Alexandria is also the former location of one of the 7 Wonders of the Ancient World--The Lighthouse of Alexandria. I did not see evidence of either of these assertations. However, my daytrip from Cairo served as a nice health retreat from the atmospheric ills of Cairo. A pleasant walk along the port's coast inspired thoughts on what the future of Brianandria might be described as. Forget the whens and wheres, lets focus on the important stuff:

One ruler. Everyone is sick of all this election drama 24/7 right? Never again. Brianandria would have a self-appointed dictator who serves a lifetime appointment. I will volunteer for that job.

The National Anthem is written and sung by Journey.

All official business transactions and deals must be sealed with a hi-five.

Drinking lunches are no longer stigmatized--in fact they are national policy.

OK, well I already ran out of stuff.....this should be more of a collaborative project. Constitutions take time you know. I am encouraging comments for what _____Andria will contain for you?

In other news, Planetary Vagabond has come across an opportunity to go semi-legit. My couchsurfing host Adham Bakry introduced me a to local editor for a new English language magazine that is being produced here in Cairo. She has seen the blog and would like me to write a monthly column on some of my adventure travel episodes (little does she know I have been writing these fabrications in my parents basement in Kansas City) The magazine is called Pleasure (no, it is not a porno mag. Although don't think that I am above doing work for one) with its first edition in December. Maybe an excuse for you to come and visit Egypt--to read the magazine.

Working for the weekend,
BrianQ

So much has been written on the Pyramids of Giza that I don't even want to put my hat into the ring. However, I will say that I enjoyed the overall experience, despite having feelings prior that it would be a major let down. This will just have to be a photo blog today.

Write your own story,

Q

You Better Walk Like an Egyptian

Because failure to do so will surely lead to your likely demise on the anarchic streets of Cairo. Having previously read up on the hazards of crossing streets in Cairo, I was still shocked to see the choatic and reckless nature of drivers here. Fully aware of the daily fatality count of pedestrians in his home city, Backry did me the service of teaching me the art of street crossing. A street typically consists of space that normally would allow for 2 lanes of traffic in a law abiding country, although Cairenes somehow are able to squeeze 4 "lanes" and countless swerving techniques into this space. The apparent disregard for human life by the drivers compounds the danger in venturing out. A total street cross without stopping is usually unlikely, therefore one must mentally visualize the traffic pattern and alternate walking an stopping at the appropriate parts in the road, with cars wizzing by at hairslength. There is something almost scientific about the undertaking as one must continously calculate the ebb and flow of the the river of cars rushing past. After several occasions of me shadowing Bakry's movements in order to cross the street, I finally received a baptize by fire when I was heading solo to the Egyptian Musuem. Facing a street with about 5 lanes of moving traffic I stood curbside for several minutes and stared, wondering just how in the hell crossing the street is physically possible.  A real life game of Frogger, where the stakes are more than a quarter.  I noticed one of the ever present Cairo policemen who was not far from where I was standing. I gave him a look that said "can you help with this" and he gave me the finger point and shoo motion that said "go on and give it a try sonny, you might make it." Much to his disappointment I made it and was able to enjoy the ancient exhibits in the Egyptian Musuem.
With more practice, the art of street crossing has turned into a fun bit to get the juices flowing. With the hope that it doesnt result in juices flowing outside your body.

Spent most of the day strolling around the backalleys of Cairo to get the local vibe and to inhale all the toxic wonder that Cairo's airspace holds. Smog and pollution abounds but not enough to kill interest in this historic city.

Heading to see history's most famous evidence tomorrow.

If not now, when?

Brian

A Day in the Life of a Couchsurfer

So I thought I would revisit a topic previously discussed several months back when Petro and I couchsurfed with a Chilean family back in February. A social networking website for travelers exists called Couchsurfing.com, where travelers can connect with "hosts" in cities around the world for just a chat and even possibly crash on their couch for a few nights. Crazy, right? Well, people are doing this with increasing frequency around the world and I feel that somebody has to shed some more light on this phenomenon for you. Here's my recent experience so far:

Wake up at the Berner's place in Dubai and get ready to head to the airport. Check email and see that a Couchsurfing host has replied back saying she has a friend who is new to CS and able to host. Send email to him inquiring about possibility.

Head to Airport.

On layover in Qatar, I check my email and see that the Couchsurfing host, Adham Bakry, replies that he does have a couch to crash and gives me directions to tell the taxi once I arrive in Cairo.

Arrive in Cairo negotiate a taxi to his place and hope like hell that this whole thing works out as if not, I will find myself SOL and away from the city center and all the hostels would be used as Plan B.

I get dropped off by the taxi and wander around the neighborhood a bit before finding the apartment building. Find the apartment, where there is no answer at the door and resolve to wait for awhile in the assumption that he is still at work.

Bakry's mother walks out of the adjoining apartment and intoduces herself and says that Backry will be home shortly and to make myself at home in his apartment.

He arrives not long later and after a bit of Q & A we head next door to eat a meal at his mother's place. Much like my mother would be if I had strangers showing up to crash at my place, she thinks we are both crazy but is also fascinated by the concept.

Backry is Egyptian, but through various experiences of living abroad including the States, his English is flawless--almost to the point that I forget that he is Egyptian. A photographer and graphic designer by trade, his spacious and eclectic apartment reflects his life in the arts. What is most exciting about the place is the U-Shaped couch, which is to be my sleeping quarters for the next few days. Upon seeing this grand facilitator of good conversations and sleep, I vow a U-shaped couch will grace my first permanant abode.

Bakry turns out to be super cool, relaxed, and a hospitable host. He is new to CS but already embodies the attitude that'll make him popular within the small Cairo network.

We head out to downtown Cairo on a walking tour of some of the city's drinking haunts. We later meet up with several of his friends, which allows me to be a participant/observer in a hip Egyptian hang. They primarily speak in English for my benefit although I find their Arabic exchanges to be more intriguing as it makes me cognizant of my presence in an authentic experience in North Africa.

In conversation, one of the Egpytian women spoke candidly about her mother's recent de-veiling (she no longer wears the Islamic veil). This strikes me as probably comparative in American culture to when someone's mother creates a Facebook profile.

Finally, my long day ends and I crash on the couch wondering what Cairo is going to throw at me tomorrow.

These sort of experiences are happening all over the world.

Maybe you should host?

BQ

Departing Dubai

The last few days in Dubai were spent on the beach by day and out on the town by night.  Spent the last night with Rich and Jen along with my new friends from Cerner, Rhae and Jeni.  After an amazing dinner at the sushi restaurant Nobu we partied at the artificial peninsula'd bar 360 under the Burj Al Arab.  A fitting last night for capturing the essence of Dubai.

A big thanks to the Berner family for permitting me to crash their lives for the last 3 weeks and allowing me to see such a fabled locale, that normally would not have been afforded on my travels.

A hour before I left for the airport, I got a positive lead on a Couchsurfing experience in Cairo so we will see what works out.

From new to old empires,

Brian

A Hundredaire in the Land of Millionaires

Things are still gravy over here in Dubai. Janey's last couple days here were spent trying to enjoy the beach and giving her some assurances that I will not take any unnecessary risks in this next leg of the trip, which may be the longest yet. These fell short with her with her knowledge of my quest to get an Iranian visa. She did me a solid by coming over and helping me out with the kids, proving once again that she is the best mother you could ask for. Love ya Janey!
With Janey gone as of last Friday, I held down the fort until Rich and Jen arrived back from Italy on Saturday night. I have gotten the whole childcare thing down pat--I just write reminders all over my hands to get me through the day-"take kids to school," "pick up at 12," "naps at 3pm," "locking children in the closet is no longer an acceptable disciplinary practice," etc, etc. Probably my best talent as a Manny is the long-winded bedtime stories that are occasionally required. With the memory capability of a pasta strainer, I usually have to think hard to pull up a story suitable for children under 9. Quickly running out of appropriate material, I started telling G-rated adaptations of movie story lines that are fresh in my head. I was halfway through the Caddyshack story, when Emma the 8 year-old called me on the ruse and said that my story sounded exactly a movie she has seen. I sure hope that she was referring to similar storyline of The Legend of Bagger Vance with Will Smith.....
As usual, once being in a spot for a lengthy amount of time, I start to get the itch to press on. Just bought a ticket for Cairo for this Sunday. Got any travel advice for the region? Friends there I should know about? Loving words? Shoot me them.
Have the rest of the week to soak in the last of Dubai and hang with Rich and Jen. Will give you the last scoop before I depart.

Yours,
BQ

Desert Skiing

Wanna go snow skiing but are faced with the tiny hang-up that you live in an arid desert? Well, in "Make it Happen" Dubai, they do not see this as a problem and have built the largest indoor ski facility in the world. As seeking out these kind of over the top attractions are part of the Dubai experience, Janey and I spent an afternoon hitting the indoor slopes of Ski Dubai located inside the shopping mall, Mall of the Emirates. There is basically one run with different routes down with varying degrees of inclination. The most difficult route being somewhere equaled to maybe an average blue run on Colorado's ski slopes. Just too make things a bit more surreal, they have built a log cabin lodge/cafe in the middle so you can rest with hot chocolate in between runs. After a while you actually forget that you are indoors and start adjusting to the concept that you are in an below zero degree environment. Taking your skis off and walking outside to blast the A/C in your car is also a new concept in after-skiing routines.

What will they think of next?

Brian

PS. Pics uploaded in the album.

A Lesson in Islam

After a few days of getting settled into our task of watching the girls, Janey and I decided to take a morning road trip the neighboring Emirate of Abu Dhabi to visit the Sheik Zayed Grand Mosque, newly finished and considered one of the biggest in the world (go figure). It also is only one of three mosques in all the Emirates that allows infidels like my mother and myself to enter.

Here is what she had to wear to enter:

(the convert leaving, maybe never to be seen again)

Constructed with materials and artistic influence from around the world, the mosque's size and white grandiose exterior was enough to awe even the most secular minded. The inside of the mosque contained a 47 ton Persian carpet that allowed room for 20,000 worshippers, with room for 20,000 more outside. During a 3 hour period between prayer sessions, Janey and I, along with about 75 other visitors were allowed to view the mosque in its entirety with the accompaniment of a female muslim tour guide, who, interesting enough, appeared to be a British expat. It was one of the more informative tours I have been on and lended me a great deal of information on Islam that I did not know. Leading groups of visitors comprising mostly of educated Westerners, the guide had the difficult task of espousing Islam's supposedly progressive stance on gender equality without running into the minefield of contradictions; providing weak explanations for why women are required to worship in a seperate area of the mosque, why men are allowed several wives and not vice-versa, and why women must remain covered. But, like a female tour guide at a Catholic Cathedral trying to justify why she can't be a priest, minor issues like being a second-class member of an institution didn't seem to faze the devotion.
Need more proof of the inherently unequal standards?--check out the phallic symbol pictured below:)

Back in Dubai, things are going well. My main function in the daytime revolves mostly around driving the girls to and from school. A lot of car time. Lets just say that I now know the new Miley Cyrus album like the back of my hand. Although, when it's just Ava (the infant) and I in the car, I have been trying to introduce her to the wonders of Steve Winwood and all his 80's glory.

The one road block experienced so far that is sure to be a mainstay of my middle eastern tour is the access to liquid spirits. Although alcohol is forbidden in Muslim societies, Dubai has partially relaxed the doctrine, to allow their foriegn residents to imbibe (money has a funny way of doing such things). Even with this "relaxed" law, all alcohol serving establishments have to be part of a hotel or resort, keeping the average price of a brewskie around $9 (ouch!) or the alternative being that you need a liqour license to buy alcohol at the local sin dens or liqour stores in Dubai. Not in possession of a liqour license, I pulled a stunt reminiscent of the early high school years and did some old fashioned shoulder-tapping outside of the liqour store. Buying wine never felt so clandestine.

Distilling some bathtub gin,

Brian

Sim City: Dubai

At this point I feel that something has to be bit extreme to be worth doing, so it only seemed prudent that the comfort pendulum should swing from the utmost isolation and deprivation of Amazon living to the opulent and swank life of Dubai in the United Arab Emirates (UAE). Flush full of oil money, the city of Dubai seems to be trying to invent ways to try and spend it. Artificial islands, skyscrapers, and an unchecked lust for bigger and grander has made this desert oasis synonymous with excess. Everything seems to be described with superlatives; the biggest hotel, the tallest building, etc. The street beggars even wear three piece suits (rumor has it as I have not seen one yet). And I think I actually saw a money growing tree yesterday.

How can the Planetary Vagabond afford to even step foot on such an extravagant locale? He can't. But lucky for him, his cousin Jennifer Berner and her husband Rich have recently relocated here due to his position as a VP with Cerner. In need of a babysitter for 10 days for their girls Emma, Lily, & Ava (ages 8, 4, and 16 months) they offered to fly me over do the job. Habitually putting myself in situations way over my head, I was lucky that my mother signed on to come too.

Viewing the cityscape is a surreal experience with buildings jutting upward into the perpetual haze of dust and sand clouding the skies. Continual construction is a way of life around this burgeoning metropolis and the city is reputed to contain 25% of the worlds cranes. An architect and engineer's playground, all hellbent on making in name in manufactured elegance. A must see for even the most uneasily awestruck. Dubai's central location between Asia and the West has made it a commerical capital of the Middle East and a center for trade. Inundating this growing commerce is a flood of foriegners, mostly from Great Britain, the U.S., and Europe. Indians and Asians make up the much of the laboring class and with all these together, I don't think I could pick a true Emirati out of a line-up. English is widely spoken along with everyone else's native tongue. Probably the only place in the world where the pizza deliveryman is tri-lingual.

Fortunately, we had a few days to spend with Rich and Jennifer and they were able to show us the ins and outs of their daily life in Dubai. Rich is busy inking deals to secure Cerner's growth in the region and Jen is busy tackling the chore of trying to adjust to raising the girls in a new environment and culture. After a few days, they were off to Italy to meet up with the rest of the Carey family, and Janey and I along with the housekeeper/nanny Gemma, were holding down the fort. With a pool and beach outside of the complex, life should be easy, breezy.

Trying to find a morsel of old culture in this rapidly growing city, Janey and I spent a morning touring the various Souks, or markets specializing in jewellery, spices, and Persian rugs. A maze of backalleys and canopied stands, all the stores were basically selling exactly the same wares as their neighbor, making it hard to conceive just how anybody made any money. We perfected a pretty good haggling routine and came away with a few souvenirs.

More to add later.

Until then,

The Manny

Here is a video taken from the balcony of Rich and Jen's penthouse on the artifial island, Palm Jumierah. The sailboat looking building in the backgrond is the Burj Al Arab, the supposed biggest and nicest hotel in the world.

5 Weeks in a Nutshell

There were two objectives for my 5 week jaunt back to the States: 1. To get some quality family time. 2. To watch three of my friends ceremoniously and publicy hand over all future decision making abilities to another person. In all honestly, looking back on any given past encounter with all of them, none of these fellas should be making decisions for themselves anyways. Plus, all of their betters halves are exactly that. These weddings took me first to Chicago, back to Kansas City and finally Raleigh, North Carolina. All were fun and storied affairs and provided good excuses to act like we were in college again.


(on a hunt a bit different than in the Amazon)

Also, I was able to sneak a quick trip down to my favorite place on this planet--the Lake of the Ozarks for some wakeboarding with good ol' Petro. The weekend was made memorable by impromptu "suprise parties" for both Petro and I by our parents. The first at my favorite eatery en route to the lake (The Wheel) and the other at the bowling alley by the Lake. Complete with paper hats and cake. Yes, I have regressed significantly in maturity.

Amazingly enough between all these wedding and birthday cakes, I did manage to get myself some semi-responsible employment. A big thanks to Kim White, who hooked me up with a sweet gig being a warm body to answer the one odd question per day as the software help desk at Childrens Mercy South. This allowed me to get caught up on the blog and lose money in a weak attempt to day trade the stock market crash. If AIG doesn't rebound, my trip will be over in two weeks.

Another thanks to my Aunt Nan Bone and St. Teresa's Academy for allowing me to come and substitute teach World Geography for one week. The "just quit school and travel" brainwashing propaganda was so slyly interwoven to the lesson plan that I don't think any parents will complain. While teaching the girls about South America and life in the jungle I discovered the art of what I like to call "Wiki-teaching." Although I consider myself to know decent amount of teachable info about S.A., you would be amazed at what a 15 minute perusal of various subjects related to South America on Wikidpedia would do to enhance your teaching creds. With this in mind, I would feel completely comfortable teaching say, Physics, even though I can hardly multiply and divide.

Lastly, a big thanks to my sis and her husband Powell for hiring the only handy man in town that likes to eat every meal at the house he is working at. Also, thanks for paying the 5 days of Workman's Comp I earned when I stubbed my toe. You guys are the greatest!

I also would like to give a shout out to my Godmother Barb Flynn for being such a wonderful supporter of the Planetary Vagabond cause.

For those of you looking to give yourself a warm fuzzy feeling, travel bonds are for sale on the "Donate" link, which is now located on the right side of the blog. Just in case Warren Buffet or just a sympathetic soul stumbles upon the site. Neither likely.

Alright, onto new things and new wanderings. Departed KC for Dubai on October 4th and plan on getting you up to speed on this bit real soon. I promise.

You are loved,

BQ

Dancing on the Margins

After another around of South American adventuring I found myself heading back to the States to reassure my family that indeed I am still alive and more importantly to be a participant in several friends weddings. Since I have been away the financial market has taken yet another dive, gas has continued to skyrocket, and most affecting me--airline fares have increased. In an attempt to not allow the airlines to stick me from behind, I opted for the cheapest and most foolishly indirect route. This decision turned what could have been a 6 hour trip into a marathon of mind-numbing transit: over 30 hours, gracing the soils (or at least airport carpeting) of Peru, Costa Rica, Miami, Ft. Lauderdale, Tampa, and finally good ol' Kansas City.
While making this arduous trip, the uncultivated and dishelved look about me did myself no favors. I was THAT guy that everyone prays doesnt take the seat next to him. If I was harboring any doubts about how exactly I appeared to everyone else, they vanished quickly when I asked a seemingly innocent old woman in Miami what time it was and she shouted "No you cannot have my purse!" and ran off to summon the airport security. Not having fully re-assimilated socially and hygenically since the Amazon, I felt that my societal inadequacies just needed some tuning up. Then again, this has more or less been the preferred and convenient look since I started this expedition back in January. I have always seen something romantic in wayward and unrefined travel, but I was begining to wonder if I had fallen a little to far out there. Was the mercury on my respectability meter dipping below 0?
Who knows, who cares. Home with family and friends.

Cocktails & Cockfights

After Banos, Joe and I decided to head back to our home away from home: The Lodge with Tom and Mariela. Returning to the place really does give me a sense of regularity and comfort that is usually absent from my travels. Being with Tom and Mariela there adds a familial feeling that too is missing on the road.
The days are spent doing much of the same stuff that I have been doing on/off since I was first here with Pete in April: entertaining guests, relaxing, and doing a bit of work on the various projects around the lodge. One highlight being a night that Joe & I were holding down the fort and had a long chat over dinner with the Israeli Ambassador to Ecuador and his wife, who along with one other person, were the only guests for the night. Interestingly enough, he did not reveal his prestigous position to us until the end of the dinner--most likely due to the fact that Joe looks like he is running with Al Qaeda.
We also had some good times with some of the Ecuadorians, whom we work with at the lodge. Javier, who is a guide there had a surprise party thrown for him by his mother, Carmen, who also works at the lodge. As an invited guest, I showed up to his house and was fortunate enough to be an active participant in a b-day party Ecuatoriana-style. Tons of great home cooked food, and a beer fueled dance off in the family room. Salsa and other latin beats blared through the sound system: the TV speakers. Normally fancying myself as a decent dancer, I definitely looked the part of the lone rhythmless whiteboy in the presence of these booty shaking Ecuadorians. I hadn't sweated out like this to music in someone's family room since I realized that celebrating New Years Eve with your parents at home wasn't trendy anymore, last year.

Nothing picques my interest quite like a shady underground activity in South America and so when one of our worker friends at the lodge invited Joe and I to attend a cockfight held just outside of town, we readily agreed. Although feeling a bit guilty about going to an event that many would not appreciate its nature (especially Tom and Mariela), I still felt that I couldn't pass up the opportunity to witness such a fabled Latin American pastime.

The event was held in the backyard of a house near town, where the owner had built a minature colisseum to host these monthly events. It was everything and a little more of what you would expect to see at something like this--cock weigh-ins, pre-fight trash talking, and serious betting going on. Oddly the event seemed to be quite the family affair with many children and old women enjoying the fun. We were also surprised to see many of the worker's from the lodge present at what we thought would draw a seedier crowd.
All I have left on my Latin American checklist is a Mexican donkey show and I can consider myself a cultured man.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Dear PV Readers,

I am trying to wrap the last of retroactive posts, which should only be one or two more before I get to my real time accounts of life in my newly acquired location: the Middle East.
Talk soon,

Sheik Brian

Banos

After a week at the beach, we decided to mix things up a bit and head to the popular tourist town of Banos. Situated below a currently active volcano, the town is known for its natural thermal baths and assortment of adventure sport activities. Still riding the lazy wave from the beach, we did some minor touring but mostly just relished in the wonderous invention called the remote control, since we had ponied up an extra buck and sprang for a room with a TV. The newly opened Olypmic games provided the justification for prolonged relaxation. After a couple of low key days, we felt we were starting to lose our edge so we decided to jump off the local bridge. Its called Puenting.

Reintegration and Normalization

At the urging of an Ecuadorian psychiatrist, after we emerged from the jungle we quickly headed to the coast to "get normal." On the recommendation of Tom and Mariela we headed to the growing beachtown of Canoa, where we rented a small house from a family for $10 a day. Factor in $1 beers and $2.50 seafood meals, even our attempts at excessive indulgence failed to produce daily tabs higher than $15 a piece. Our first official night out after our release, ended like any free for all should, with Joe shaking me awake around 6am on the neighboring house's porch. Quickly, we became known around town for several reasons. Opting to keep our wild look, we stuck out in town like a sore thumb--even amongst the other gringo travelers. While out one night, we actually had a backpacker come up and chat nonsense with us for a few minutes before asking us flat-out why we looked the way we did. He later confided that his friends dared him to go up and ask. Tom, who had a friend who lived in a nearby town, directed the guy to seek out the "terrorist looking white guy" on the beach and lo' and behold Joe was stopped by the guy while walking on the beach. "You must be the guy" he exclaimed.

The beach party never ended and only seemed to be growing. We noticed that land was cheap and had major potential for development so our curiousity had us asking around on sale prices and we even toured a few lots. Eventually, word had spread around town that "the bearded gringos" were big real estate monguls looking to buy up all the land." I first noticed something was up when the old lady who we were renting the house from started addressing me by "mi hijo" or her son. I was a bit surprised how quickly I earned this endearment until she started insisting that we buy up her beach lots. Other people started saying things like "I've heard about you guys." No exactly wanting to dispell the belief that we rich moguls, we played along and enjoyed our week on the beach. Gettin' normal never was so fun.

Facing the grim reality of no motor, not much food, and a possible 2 day float back to our original campsite, the gringos in the group looked at each other with unspoken worry. The Huaorani however seemed unfazed by this calamity and within 10 minutes of the motor sinking, Otobo's brother Bartolo jumped in the river with a rope, swam to the bottom, tied the rope around the sunken motor and re-emerged. Hurrah for Huaorani resoucesfulness. While we are all contemplating our horrendous fate, they are non-chalantly rectifying the situation. After they lug the motor ashore, they strip it down and proceed to drain the water out of the engine. After a tense hour of the engine not starting, it finally fired up, prompting one big collective sigh of relief. Back on our way.

The rest of the day is spent spotting wildlife, with the highlight being a tree filled with about 30 macaws. The rest of teh time is spent navigating around the all the downed logs. At several points during the day we were sidetracked for varying periods by trees totally blocking the river.

(trying to cut our way through)

(now trying to meditate our way out of this mess)

We had hoped on making it to the Shiripuno Lodge to spend the night in relative confort although the many setbacks during the day has made reaching there before nightfall impossible. Our only option is to set up camp along the river. With the the possibility, abeit remote, of running into the uncontacted tribes, Tom half-jokingly states that if someone says says "run to the river," believe them and run to the river. Haha. I nervously laugh and start staring around at the forest. Joe and I don't have our tents so we sleep under a piece of plastic thrown over a tree. A rain shower in the middle of the night makes us oh so happy.

The next day is spent doing much of the same, motoring towards The Outside. Finally, after another 10 hours in the canoe, we reach the bridge. We unload the canoe and wait for the bus while Tom and Otobo smooth over the issue of the warrant.

On the bus ride to the city of Coca Joe and I feast on several chicken-on-a-sticks and drink cold Coca Cola with child-like glee. Arrive in town and start to feel as scummy as I look. Take the first shower in five weeks and finally see my reflection. Scream.

Motoring Up Sh*tcreek Without a Paddle (The Exit)

After several days of toiling around on the cabins and lodge, our crew decides to call this jungle experience over and face the what's now only a figment of our imagination: The Outside. Will we react like the some of the past Huaorani, who upon seeing a car for the first start screaming and hiding? Probably not. Will our long beards and wild eyes scare aware every female that comes upon our thirsty stares? Most definitely. I suspect that Tom and Mariela are a bit concerned about releasing us out into the wilds of the city--as they should be.

We depart early for the 20 hour journey with anticipation of running into many downed logs because of the low water level. Our canoe trip in was torturous, so we expect nothing less for the journey out. This time we plan better and stack two air mattresses on the canoe floor and take turns lounging on it. Our crew consists of myself, Joe, Tom, Mariela, Otobo, Conan, Carmen, the 2 year-old Wicama, and the newborn, Briana--yes, you heard right, after much persistence I convinced Otobo to give his newborn girl a variation of my name. This naming all but guarantees that this girl will grow up with my flawless personality although Tom has informed me that by custom I now will be responsible for her education when she grows up. This somehow fulfills the prophecy that this trip would spawn children all over the world...

The canoe trip upriver is going well quite well and after 5 hours we are starting to enter into the part of the Amazon were the two uncontacted tribes have been known to live, which is not of much worry as we continue to motor upstream. Everthing's gravy until I hear a loud thud and turn around in time to see our outboard motor pop off the canoe and sink to the bottom of the river........(cont'd later today).