Transplant to the Real World

After several months of only looking after #1, I think I may have forgotten the feeling of having to be responsible for someone other than myself. How does one re-acquaint himself with external responsibilities? Solution: Rent a baby for a day and try and keep both you and it happy and fed. Lucky for me, my sister Erin happily volunteered my 8 month old niece Kate for this experiment on my current mental psyche and its reaction to the rigors of what hypothetically could be in store for me later in life.*

*hopefully a lot later in life.

And so, Kate and I set out trying complete several errands around Kansas City before our family jaunt down to the Lake of the Ozarks. Fully aware that carrying around a cute baby immediately dissolves any personal deficiencies I may have in the looks & personality department, I set off in anticipation of shooting fish in a barrel around town. Although scouring for chicas was not the primary goal of the day, earlier, Kate and I came to the mutual agreement that I would not leave her for another girl that day as long as she behaved. The only thing that would void this agreement was if she went #2 in her diaper, in which case all bets were off and she could be left anywhere. The day of errands went fairly well--Kate kept the part of her promise about behaving and we managed to get everything done that we set off to accomplish. Although, even with her impeccable behavior I still was mentally and physically spent by the end of the day and completely reaffirmed in my belief that I am still ill-equipped for the responsibilities of taking care of anyone but myself. Lucky for me, I still have many months left of only self-preservation to worry about and am in no danger (virtual fingers crossing) of placing myself in a similar type situation.

Other than spending time catching up with family, mass consuming has been the theme of the return back to the States. I have succesfully eaten all types of foods that had been absent from my S.A. diet and now am going through round two on the checklist. Also, I have completed round one of two weddings, with Mike and Lindsay Tiehen's fun-filled May 17 wedding in KC. The next few days will be maxed out with me scrambling to get all my gear in order for my Wednesday departure to Naples, Florida for the Clarkson wedding followed by my international departure on Tuesday the 27th back to Bogota, Colombia.

Just to keep you'all in the loop, I'll let you in on what appears to be the tentative schedule of the next 3 months of travel. Once arriving in Colombia, I plan on spending about 2 weeks there to do a little more travelling around the country. After that I am going to head back into Ecuador to spend about 2 weeks preparing for entry into the Amazon. Basically, while staying at the lodge in Ecuador, Petro and I were introduced by owner Tom to his friend, Otobo, who is somewhat of an unofficial leader among the Huaorani tribe (wikipedia link for info), which is an indigenous group living in a remote area of the Ecuadorian Amazon. This tribe, which was recently "contacted" by civilization about 50 years ago, is currently at a major junction in the direction of their future existence. With foreign oil companies itching to get at the liquid gold they live above, some Huaorani leaders are trying to protect their land and people from the bum-rush that has been put in motion by these companies and the government. Once such person is Otobo, who is trying to create an income outside of selling out to the oil companies, by introducing eco-tourism to the area. He needs help doing this, and the opportunity exists for me to go in with him and spend up to 2 months living with him and providing any assistance I can in establishing facilities for future adventure eco-tourism that can monetarily benefit his people. The logistics are a little disconcerting--living amongst a tribe in which most people are prancing around in their birthday suits, hunt with spears and blow guns,and speak a language few outsiders have mastered. To cap it off, the location is a three day canoe trip up several rivers. Having never fully recovered from some college induced injuries, I have concluded that these circumstances are appealing to me and have tentatively agreed with Otobo for a July 1st entry date. The opportunity seems to be too great and exciting to pass up and I am starting to come to the reality of the magnitude of this trip. A little pre-trip prep is needed and I am still trying to decide if I will be purchasing the supplies here in the U.S. or back in Quito. One cause of concern is the lack of communication I will have once I go in. As much as I want this story told while deep in the bush, it appears the only way this is possible is through a phone or computer with a satellite connection. Not educated in the ways or logistics of this kind of technology (nor probably having the means for it), if anyone has any good suggestions or solutions to this hang-up please give me a shout soon. Any lucrative funding ideas are always welcomed....
Also, as it appears I may be going in solo, if this type of experience is something that greatly appeals to you, please let me know, as a comrade on this adventure would do wonders in the way of keeping sane.

Monkey is the new goat,
BQ

PS. I don't have my old cellphone so if anyone gets a one ring call and hangup--please call the number on the Caller ID as it is me using a payphone and trying to save the quarters.

Bogota and a Brief Trip to Reality

A lot has happened in the week or so since we last spoke.  We left off in Cali, where I found myself rolling solo in a city with not much catching my fancy.  I made an 11th hour decision to wake up early the next day and head to a small town in the countryside that supposedly held the honor of having one of the best views in Colombia.  It proved to be a good decision and as luck would have it, the town was comfortably jammed with vacationing Colombians celebrating their Labor Day holiday weekend.  I joined the holiday spirit with a fun English couple, Stephen & Creed, who were similarly toasting the day in the in the town center.  They were just wrapping up the 17th month of an 18th month global trip and showed no signs of fatigue.  They had been practically everywhere and still the itch for more travel, with the next planned expedition being a road trip across the States.  I spent the greater part of an hour touting the draws of a Mid-Western route and the glorious mecca the Lake of the Ozarks.  The festivities lasted well into the next morning and ended with us leaving half of the town still partying.

 

Through the fog of the repercussions of the previous night, I spent the next 10 hours getting myself to Bogota via buses.  Once arriving in Bogota, I re-united with the Irish girls that were befriended 5 countries back and spent the next 2 days doing some city exploration.  Knowing that I would be back within the month I was a little unconcerned with a full tour and instead prepared myself for the flight back to the States.  It was more of a mental preparing for my exit from the culture of traveling that I had found myself in the last few months and emergence into the my counter-culture position as a jobless drifter back in the States.  Here comes a round of justifications that I don't think I have the energy to pitch...

My five city tour started in Chicago, where I spent my first 2 days back carousing with old friends and falling back in love with White Castle.  Next stop was a brief one to St. Louis, where the revelry was just as intense with the celebration of the Tiehen's dog Carlos' first birthday... 

Currently de-toxing in KC with my family and enjoying every minute of it.  The plan is head down to the Lake for a few days and then prepare for the next two weeks of weddings.  

I still need to talk to you about the future plans and maybe a quick first leg recap---maybe later this week....

On track to gain 10 pounds in 2 weeks,

BQ

Cruisin' thru Colombia

After putting on my best dirty clothes in an attempt to dissuade any potential shenanigans during my transit into Colombia, I boarded an early morning bus to the border anxious for what the day would bring. Inez, my first bus seatmate assured me that most of the guerrilla activity was east of where we would eventually cross. But, she also informed me that I should have these--making the gesture for eyeballs in the back of my head. The actual border crossing went fairly smoothly. Things started to get interesting right after I got my passport stamped by Colombian immigration. First, I found myself one of eighteen people riding in a van similar to a Ford Windstar from the border to the nearest town. At times like this on the trip I sometimes ponder the asinine situations I find myself in and secretly wish for a skycam that could document the carload of Colombians with a tall gringo wedged somewhere in there. Unfortunately, that memory can only be cataloged in my brain to be forgotten in about 4 days. The attractive Colombian woman smooshed next to me would in the course of the next 5 hours be the source of a good deal of worry. Like the other Colombians I had met that day, she was friendly and helped me with a lot of the transport logistics of getting to the town of Pasto, where she was headed as well. Not long into the bus ride to Pasto, she implied that she was super-friendly and decided to use my shoulder as a pillow. Not a problem, I commonly have this effect on women although my charm usually takes weeks or months to work this successfully. But, also not quite a total fool, I realize this is how 9 out of 10 bad situations start. On the other hand, a bad way to go about travelling and meeting locals is to be totally paranoid of everyone you meet. After arriving in Pasto, she accompanied me to the hostal to verify the state and neighborhood of it, saying that Pasto and the surrounding areas were not safe for gringos. Only feeling not safe because of her, but not wanting to be rude to a potentially well-meaning individual I played along until I could figure this situation out. She was eager to hang out more and seeing the progression of the last 5 hours and not wanting to wake up without my credits cards and a kidney, I feigned illness to get her to leave. She did, only after extracting a promise from me to meet her for breakfast the next day. And so after she left, I changed rooms, told the puzzled clerk not to give out my key, slept with one eye open, woke early and left town like a person with a bad case of morning-after regret. A rocky start on the road to Bogota.

The bus ride today was about as beautiful a drive as I have taken in my life. With 4 months of Andean bus rides under my belt, I have grown fairly de-sensitized to the scenery, but the whole 8 hour trip was truly amazing. So much so, that I deferred any reading and just stared out the window for most of the trip's duration. This staring contest with the mountains was interrupted twice at military checkpoints, where all the bus occupants departed the bus for spread eagle pat-downs and bag searches. Machine guns were in no-short supply. I'd be lying if I said the ordeals weren`t slightly unsettling and the fact that I had not seen one gringo let alone another tourist in my first 24 hours in Colombia didn't help matters. Nor did an old man's response to me when I asked him why there weren't any gringos around. But like I said, almost every Colombian I have met so far has been friendly..

Right now, staying in a nice part of Cali but at a crappy hostel. Will re-assess the situation tomorrow and see what the city has to offer.

Cali Dreaming,
Q

A Parting of Forces

This morning the lodge owners found me hiding in a dark closet eating barbeque sauce covered ants and beef jerky and politely told me its best that I leave. So I now find myself back in Quito with every intention of waking up early and taking a bus to the Colombian border. All this noise up north with FARC and the Ecuador/Colombia/Venezualan governments has taken my interest and prompted me to head out on an independent fact finding mission. Armed with a machete (a parting gift from the lodge owners) and a pocketful of bribe money I am fully prepared to resolve this latin-american crisis single-handedly. My only concern is that I will be doing it without my comrade in arms, Petro.
Today was a sad parting of ways for myself and Petro as he gets to stay at the lodge another couple weeks until his May 20th out of Bogota back to the states for our buddy, Chris Clarkson`s, wedding. As for myself, I am going to spend 6 days in Colombia before my flight back in time for Mike Tiehen´s beer drinking competition and possible wedding. As of yesterday, I have a flight booked back to Bogota on May 27th for reasons we will talk about later....
It was a trip for the books for Petro and I and if you are unlucky enough to find yourself in our company in the next few weeks you can hear all about it. Or for a more coherent and sober summarization of this journey read the last 52 posts. Hopefully this is just the end of the first leg of a greater expedition for both of us.
The whole lodge experience was for me one of the best things done in S.A. as we made lifelong friends with the ever-interesting and generous owners Tom and Mariela, which has led to our informal adoption as there only children. It has also led to the reason for my return back to South America at the end of May.

If you don´t hear from me within 2 days please send the ransom money to:

FARC (Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia)
c/o Hugo Chavez
Caracas, Venezuala

Northern-bound once again,
Q

Eco-Friendly Living

Quite of life of contradictions I lead. Prior to my integration into life at the eco-lodge, the extent of my ecological thinking was ¨I hope these steaks came from cows injected with flavor enhancing hormones¨or ¨boy the lake sure looks polluted today--lets go wakeboarding.¨ The delicious but mostly vegetarian fare there has made me think a little about if life IS possible without red meat. Don´t worry all you carnivorous consumers, I haven´t gone native--in fact just the other day Petro and I succumbed to the pre-disposition to red meat all mid-western born children inherit and snuck a hamburger and hotdog at a neighboring establishment (we are currently in the process of trying to procure meat to splatter with the bottle of Gates Barbeque Sauce the Schloegels brought down--we are presently just drinking it).

Biologically speaking, we are advancing in our bird-watching and animal species indentification. Now instead of saying ¨hey look at that pretty bird¨ we say ¨hey look at the pretty bird with yellow feathers.¨ I must say the guests are pretty impressed with our abilities. There has also been some getting used to my eco-friendly environment--for instance, when a gross bug or insect is pesking around--my natural instinct would be to swat the bastard, but now, conscience of where I am, I have to gently relocate it and say things complimentary towards it. ¨Boy that cockroach sure has an intricate design on its back.
I wouldn´t call us professional naturalists just yet as the lodge´s corn crop (albeit very small) was decimated by a wandering neighbor´s cow, an act that went totally unnoticed by the caretakers (us). We are talented in other ways.......
Things have kept interesting around the lodge. A string of entertaining guests including three Irish girls that we befriended many countries ago that came to visit and corrupt us with the moonshine they smuggled into the lodge.
For awhile, we were living Swiss-Family Robinson style in the main lodge with counter-weighted retracting ladders and open-air showers. There is talk of ¨family¨expedition tomorrow involving the owners and us climbing the adjacent mountaintop that supposedly is inhabited by monkeys and spectacled bears. Two to one we get lost.

Why say no when it feels so good to say yes,

BQ

Life at the Lodge

Just made a run into town in my new 1970 Land Rover (well, the owners) and thought I would give you a quick shout. Life here has been splendid so far, jumping right into our "hosting duties" which means essentially we are expected to just bullsh*t with the other guests--a tough gig I should say.....thus far we have been doing it sans cocktails so nothing horribly inappropriate has been uttered at the dinner table, but you we´ll see if that holds. Foot in Mouth is a disease neither of us has been vaccinated for. The owners, Tom and Mariela, are about the most genuinely kind and fun people I have met on this trip so far and give me a renewed faith in my occasionally cynical view of humanity. They also seemed to hold a supernatural ability to pick a winner as it only took them a couple of hours to conclude Petro and I were of the chosen breed.
Although not much of an orientation to our new life was given, my favorite directive by Tom so far was "if that happens, take all the guests and hide in the hills" (referring to what to do if a recent 8-man armed robbery on the neighboring lodge happened while Petro and I where holding down the fort). To avoid such an act we started a rumor around town that we killed a drifter in Chile, so hopefully that dissuades any potential bandidos.
According to our friend Elizabeth, this lodge was featured on the Travel Channel a couple of months ago, so you betcha this is going on our currently defunct resumes.

Off to schmooze,

9 to 5 Brian

Pics, Movies, and the Beach

Back in Quito after spending 3 nights on the nothern coastal town of Atacamas. Normally jammed with vacationers during the high season, the afro-latino town was tranquil and provided a good spot for R & R with the Schloegels. Once again, we found ourselves in the land of fresh seafood and trinket hawkers. To switch things up a bit one day, we used a contact we had procured at the cloud forest to go hand fishing in the mangroves in Bolivar, Ecuador. The only luck had was Jake snagging what seemed to be a rarely caught poisonous fish, which prompted his title to change amoung the guides from "the paying white man" to "the white devil who brings bad luck to our village." The fishing may have not been all that great but the 2 hour "scenic tour" we received via lawn chairs in the back of a pickup truck made up for it. Overall, trip brought out talent not formerly known--Jake had gained a proficiency for an interesting dialect of Spanglish and Debby, a knack for the art of a good haggle--a great success!---almost a great as success as Debby`s beloved KU Jayhawks, who clinched the National Title the day prior to thier arrival, making her week the best ever!*

*Authors note: In no way was I happy about KU winning, only a genuine happiness for the happiness of Debby.

All in all, the trip with the Schloegels was another one for the books--A big thanks to them for generously and undeservedly spoiling me rotten and providing an abundance of good times. Here`s some of the pics/movies of the 10 day jaunt--there's more in the linked photo album.

Not far from the cloud forest lodge is a series of waterfalls, which the locals present at the top of one told us we could jump off. They demonstrated this ability by throwing a rock in the water below and repeatedly reassuring "very deep" "very deep." We hit the bottom.

See below

Our incredible zip-line experience. Here`s Jake performing the Superman pose (thus fulfilling his childhood dream of flying).

More zip-line footage

Heading to the cloud forest lodge tomorrow to do some guest entertaining....we´ll see what transpires.

Business up front, party in the back,

Q

Hanging in the Clouds

I must admit I have been cheating on you--my heart has been elsewhere--with Jake and Debby Schloegel´s arrival to Ecuador has come a whirlwind of fun and adventure. With the big shoes of Andy and Jane Q to fill, the Schloegels came ready for action. They did not come empty handed either--their generous re-supply mission brought us the culinary joys of Ranch Dressing, Gate´s barbeque sauce, delicious home-baked friendship bread (thanks Vicky Springs!), and unbelieveably a sixer of Boulevard Wheat Beer. Home never tasted so good.
The journey started in Quito, trying to fulfill Jake´s unquenchable thirst for knowledge displayed on plaques and in churches, we toured the historical relics of the Old Town part of Quito. Petro and I supplemented our limited knowledge of Quito (and Ecuador in general) with lies to keep our touring guests intrigued. No harm, no foul.
Probably our best tour in Quito was to the Middle of the World, where we visited the precise location of where the equator runs. Amazingly enough, at that location a bunch of weird stuff happens--water drains directly down instead of swirling in a direction, people become slightly weaker and lighter, and Americans in the tour group become loud and unruly. Trying to fulfill Ugly American stereotypes, there was a lot of horse-playing done by us during that tour, which culminated with an argument between Jake and an Irishman over some astronomical issue discussed during the tour. After realizing that physical harm was coming his way, the Irishman conceded the point and we all felt relief for the narrowly avoided ¨gunshow¨ that follows questioning American wisdom.
After Quito we headed to Mindo, to explore what we consider a jungle and what Equadorians consider a cloud forest. Our lodge in Mindo was an amazingly built series of structures that blended well with the densely lush locale and was accessible by ferrying across the river in a little makeshift zip-line. Many visitors to the lodge are biology-oriented scientists or tourists because of the high concentration of various bird and butterflies species. So much so that a very knowledgeable guide in these areas is provided by the lodge to every group of guests. Having the same regard for bird-watching as the act of watching grass grow, we gave the guide his own vacation from that "excitement" and went to do the all the adventure activities that they area had to offer. Jake and Debby were given a first hand view of the joys of the liability-free manner in which adventure tour companies operate in South America. A ridiculously fun canopy tour (zip-lining over the forest valley), waterfall jumping, and refugee-style tubing down the rapid filled Mindo river occupied our days. Props need to be given to Jake and Debby for reckless abandon that they delved into these activities-- speaking for myself I was close to a pants soiling on several occasions.
Here comes the part where I tell you something that should very well be a lie but is not. After two nights or about a total of 4 hours of actual interaction with the owners of the jungle lodge (http://www.ecuadorcloudforest.com/html/lodge.html) they asked Petro and I to ¨host¨ their lodge for them while they spend a week or two vacationing and working elsewhere in Ecuador. No joke, these people must have contracted a mind-altering malarial flu overnight, as they are having us act as their proxies for awhile. As your boys are no fools, we promptly accepted and are due back to our lodge running duties right after the Schloegels depart. And so, if anyone has a hankering for spontaneous travel to Ecuador, come visit our lodge in the jungle.

At the moment we are now on the coast in Atacamas, Ecuador and are beaching it up until we have to be back in Quito on the 17th. I´ll give you the low-down on our time here along with all the pics and movies of the trip when I get back to Quito.


Su chico con suerte,
Brian

Quote of the trip so far: He´s not a boy Jake, he´s a man with a gun¨--Debby after Jake pointed out one of the many ambiguously uniformed and armed men who inhabit Quito´s streets.

Quito

Well, just what we expected: a major plummet in personal comfort--not many hours after we left my parents at the airport, we took a series of not so fun buses rides that shot us off the wave of comfort we had been riding, back down to the dirty depths of backpack travel. Our border crossing went without a hitch, although our sleep was interrupted at almost exactly hour intervals for bag searching and beauracratic formalities. Once daylight hit, we found ourselves staring at marshlands filled with flooded towns and stilted houses. The towns looked like havens for mosquitos and the diseases they transmit and the only rational I could see for living there was the absense of the means or opportunity for relocation. Next in the sequence of landscapes was the vast banana plantations that made me reminiscent of the banana republics of Central America. Like there, Dole Company appeared to be the primary landholder and seemed to bestow the same amount of community uplift that they provide elsewhere--nothing.
After about a full day of ass-numbing bus riding, we arrived in Quito, about 45 minutes shy of ended it all on the bus.
By luck, we found an cheap non-dorm room that will accommodate us until the arrival of Jake and Debbie Schloegel on the 9th. Already sick of the local S.A cuisine and the occassional chain restuarant indulgence, I was jazzed to stumble upon a dirt cheap Middle-Eastern ¨restaurant¨ with $1.25 Shwarmas. Long past caring about trifle matters like hygienic food preparation, the place has served as my dinner spot for the last two nights.
To change things up a bit today, armed with information from a backpacker club we belong to that tries to help foriengers in S.A., I went to the women´s prison in Quito with the intention of visiting a fellow American who was locked up on drug-related charges. Prison tourism is actually not that uncommon in S.A., although in some places the motives are not entirely humanitarian in nature. As in Bolivia, where many of the other backpackers at my hostel went to the notoriously unorthodox La Paz men´s prison (as written about in the book Marching Powder) to buy and use the cocaine that the prisoners actually manufacture in the prison. As one American girl who went explained to me: ¨I did it just to say that I did cocaine in a prison in Bolivia¨--a pretty remarkable story to tell the grandkids I guess...
I would like to think this visit was more good-willed in nature as I was bearing gifts and looking for a potential wife (just kidding Grammy). It is recommended when you visit to bring vital toiletries for the inmates as no such things are provided by the prison. So I did, along with my small backpack expecting a thorough searching and the likely confiscation of some of the items. Just like at the Lima airport, when I unknowingly passed through and flew with a meduim-sized pocket-knife in my carry-on, the security search was mainly for show and I am pretty sure I could have snuck through enough arms to faciliate a full out jail break. Aftering entering the prison, another inmate was kind enough to strong-arm money from me so she would go fetch this American girl. While waiting in one of the many unrestricted corridors in this quasi-prison, I noticed that their seemed to be a lot of non-sanctioned conjugal visiting going on inside. Since a conjugal visit was not on my scheduled itinerary for the day, I spoke with the American girl about her life inside and the circumstances for which she found herself there. Like almost all of the foriegners there it was for drugs, two suitcases in fact that a male friend convinced her to fly out of the country with. She had spent two years there already and still did not have her official sentence, but she was most likely going to spend the better half of a decade getting visits from random strangers such as I. She possessed an naivette that drew some sympathy but not enough to override the disdain I felt for her stupidity. Regardless, according to her, she gets little help from the embassy and relishes any english speaking visitors. The same was true with a South African prisoner who I spoke with. She and her mother had been there for quite some time and seemed to have adjusted well to incarceration as she openly admitted to relationships with guards and visitors alike. Lucky for all, a group of American missionaries had become regular visitors to the prison and provided free hair cuts and goodies for all inmates who had the mental energy to play ¨saved¨ for two hours a day. All in all, the visit was interesting and I even was given the contact info of the girl´s mother, who lived in Venezuala and who the girl said would put me up if I found myself there. After throwing that contact in the trash, I headed back into the city to get myself proper for the arrival of the Schloegels tonight. Fun times are expected ahead as the Schleogels are my favorite people other than my family and my new girlfriend at the prison.

Much to tell soon,

BQ

A Vacation from our Vacation

Again another prolonged absense from the blog trying to keep my self from the stress of our interaction. You´re just too damn needy.
The day of my last blog, we were in the midst of a hellacious day of travel. Plane from Cusco to Lima, 7 hour layover Lima, plane to Piura, and 3 hour taxi ride to Mancora Beach with a driver who we all initially thought appeared to have just exited a bar. Being all too tired to care anymore and having guessed he would eventually sober up under the legal limit within an hour or two (probably naively thinking that a legal limit actually exists) we let him initiate the slow crawl to the beach. Not 15 minutes on our way we were pulled over at a police checkpoint on the highway and as the officer approached our car a previously sleeping Petro semi-awoke up already reaching for his wallet to pay for the ¨fine¨ of being gringo in an area with corrupt police. All turned out well as the officer wanted to check to see if my seatbelt was fastened--and as it was, he was getting no money from us.
As all good things happen to those who sit 3 hours in a cramped taxi, we arrived to beautiful Mancora Beach, a semi-remote 3km stretch of paradise that I am hestitant to speak of lest the masses ruin its draw. We arrived to our beachfront hotel one day out of their ¨busy season¨and found ourselves occupying 2 out of the 4 rooms that were currently inhabited. With approximately one staff member for every guest, we had the run of the place, which was slightly perplexing to Petro and myself not being accustomed to such luxury. It was weird at first, like when they said we could not use their kitchen to cook or daily ration of rice and beans or when the the staff became upset when we tried to pitch a tent under tree in the parking lot. Sleeping in a room with a daily cleaning service and that didn´t reek of B.O. and stale hippies just didn´t seem fitting at first. Our descent into ¨the good life¨of non-backpacker travel began with our rendevous with Janey and Andy earlier in the week but didn´t really hit us until our arrival to the beach. We finally realized that we have been working really hard at not working and deserved the luxuries we had been bestowed. The following four days were filled with stress free bliss that was highlighted with marathon seafood eating and pool side drinking. Possibly our best day consisted of exploring the surrounding area on motor bikes and a dune buggy commandeered by the old man. Like good midwest boys, a good old fashioned trespass provided the most scenic views of the day. Later, Andy and Janey fulfilled the lifelong desire of running horses down the beach. Unorthodox modes of travel was the theme of the trip as our shuttling around town was done mostly by motorcycle taxis and later by our favorite mode of travel in S.A--a good old hitchhike that we got Janey to participate in. It was definitely a trip for the books.

Like most ill-gotten gains, our high life ended today with the departure of the parents back to the States. Although temporarily, we are back to slumming it again until our rendevous with the Schloegels in Quito, Ecuador in four days. The next couple of days of travel should really bite but the means justify the end, when the Schloegels get to re-unite with their favorite person and Petro.

Off to catch a stupid bus,

Sir Quarnstrom

Lost Boys Found in the Lost City

Alright, alright, I am guilty of a little procrastination on my obligatory reports back to you but things have been a little action packed lately. First we had the arrival of KC buddy Brian Meagher, who was down in Peru visiting his lovely girlfriend Lucia. I was able to meet up with those two and take in another day of glorious Peruvian sun at the beach near Lima. It was Brian´s M. virgin dip into the mighty Pacific and the landmark was rang in typical celebratory style with ceviche and beers on the beach. Later that night Petro and I met back up with the pair for drinks out after another heist at the casino. The routine remains the same: We put around $15 in the video poker and play for 3 hours while enjoying free dinner, drinks, and dessert and in turn cashing out at even or in Petro´s case everytime-up on the house. There has been serious talk of quitting our jobs (well, travelling) and staying in Lima as professional pretend gamblers. Our success at not losing money is going against everyting my sponsor at Gamblers Anonymous has told me. The big turning point in our casino fortune was figuring out the missing variable from our first experience--big tips. A few $0.75 tips throughout the casino experience has allowed our unrestricted access to the free fares and even got the loud old man roughed up outside because he was bothering our concentration.
Thinking our high life could not get much better, spirits were soaring--and were raised yet again with the arrival of the producer's of the golden boy: Andy and Janey Q. Sweet as ever, Janey lived up to her rep by arriving in Lima with the boy´s favorite cookies from McClains Bakery (this generosity would soon cease as the new trip trend of Andy and Jane is showering Petro with daily gifts--I have to keep reminded them he is not an orphan).
The trip has been a whirlwind so far. We spent the night in Lima, to wake up early to fly to Cusco. As the jumping off point for various expeditions to Inca ruins, Cusco is rife with 50-somethings fulfilling fantasies of Indiana Jones-esque adventures with their safari vests, brimmed hats, and enormous cameras. Under the careful eye of Petro and myself we have protected Andy and Jane from succumbing to such cliches and we have been trying hard at some anti-tourism activities such as playing rousing games of Lo Siento (our Peruvian version of the board game Sorry), drinking wine, and trying to soak in the joys of relaxed travel. After two days in Cusco we took the train to the town of Aguas Calientes, located just below Machu Picchu. From there we spent the night and woke up early to head up to the ruins. There was talk of writing a collective poem about our experience at Machu Picchu but Andy insisted on putting profanity in several parts of it, so the project was abandoned. The good news is that the pictures of the day speak for themselves. Not having much faith in hype, we were all pleasantly surprised to find that the ruins lived up to the honor as a member of the 7 Wonders of the World (8 once the committee officially recognizes the Lake of the Ozarks).

The trip back to Cusco was slightly marred with a train ride that was annoyingly plagued with a "fashion show" in which the train attendants strutted the aisles in different clothes in the hopes that some of the Indiana Jones wannabes would buy them (like good anti-tourists we fake asleep). After our train ride, a colectivo bus we were taking broke down in the countryside. Lucky for us the driver had a ball of twine and two paperclips because he was able to fix the bus and produce us safely back in Cusco. We are now back in Lima waiting for a plane that is taking us to the glorious beaches of the north. Will update soon with stories of the stay up there.

In other news, there has been some serious brainstorming lately between Petro and myself about possible themes and destinations for a future trip. The current consensus is an 80´s themed road trip across the States. We are looking for the following donations: A Camaro or Trans-Am with t-tops, a retro boombox, and a box set of Journey tapes. We will supply the jean shorts and tank tops. Let me know if you can make this dream a reality.

Once again, there has been some pervish talk in the comments section calling for more attention paid to sexual topics. Trying to appease all, I shot some footage of some gratuitous action.

Scary, I know.

Q

Just Awaitin´ in Lima

Still kicking around Lima and enjoying the fruits of Peru. Spicier food, the same medicore beer, and a stronger sun dominates our lives. Not being used to staying in one place for so long, my familiarity with my surroundings is tripping my internal travel instinct to move on. But, for good reason that urge has been suppressed due to the anticipated arrival of Andy and Janey Q in 3 days. The plan is to continue to retain no plan. Machu Pichu is the first destination and from there we´ll probably throw darts on the map and proceed accordingly. Patiences and credits cards are sure to be tested, but I am anticipating our trip with them to be quite exciting. They may even get a guest blog appearance to convey the joys of traveling with two hapharzards.

Some notes on the current situation. Lima is city where almost every car is a taxi-or a potential taxi as people merely slap a small sticker saying "Taxi" on their car. Becoming employed never became so easy-one car, one sticker and you´re a regular cabbie. As there are no taxi meters, the price haggling ritual is quite entertaining. Actually, it usually not much of a haggle as before you enter the cab you state the destination and the cabbie usually states a price one Sole (the money here) over the real cost of the fare. Then you reply the real cost and he acknowledges that you know the real cost and lets you in. It more like stating a password than actually haggling the price.

Got a strange dose of home yesterday when I met two guys staying in Lima who also went to Rockhurst High School (class of 06), one of which now goes to St. Louis University. A big coincidence although I seriously doubt their claims as neither has heard of the legend of Brian Quarnstrom. More face from home are appearing soon as well as our buddy Brian Meagher from KC arrived Saturday night to visit his girlfriend here and we are hoping to meet up with him soon. On another positive note my spanish skills are making some serious gains with the help of a local gal. Que buena.

More news when we make some.
Q

He Has Risen!

Happy Easter Jesus,

Update coming soon.........

Loving Life in Lima

Just checking in with you to let you know that I´m still good and well. Contrary to some of the horror stories we heard previously about Lima, it has been quite a good time. I arrived to Petro holding down a pretty sweet gig bartending at the hostel, which makes his life practically expenseless here in Lima (and our social life more affordable). As for myself, considering our long stay in Lima waiting for my parents to arrive on the 27th, I decided to rent a room in house near to where Petro is staying. Have the best of both worlds--the hostel to party and the house for making PB&Js and hiding out. The owner´s son who showed me the place gave me a nostalgic feeling for St. Louis when he described the layout of the neighborhood, ¨that way is nice, that way is nice, that way is nice, that way you will be robbed,¨ saying it with upmost certainty.

Paddys days was not the brain scrambling that I am used to in Chitown and St. Louis but we made the most of it here. Ever on the lookout for exploitive drinking situations, we first headed to one of the many casinos here to pull nickel slots mindlessly while capitalizing on their free drinks. Everything was working splendidly with complimentary desserts and drinks up until 4 drinks deep the waitress said ¨we don´t have any more whisky¨ well, fine, vodka tonics will do..¨we are out of that too.¨ Thinking that there may be some confusion in the translation the pit boss came over and spoke in English and said, ¨what can we get you gentlemen.¨ We repeated the request and were met with a ¨we don´t have any¨....now it was becoming apparent that the ruse was up. Gringo or not, they exposed our routine, which was not entirely phony as Petro was just beginning to pull down some serious wins on Video Poker. Cut off or not the house was beat that night.

There has been a bit of noise lately in the Comments Section and in emails demanding that this blog be ¨sexed up.¨ Now, I don´t know what type of person you perceive me to be but whoring myself out for your reading pleasure is just low class and reprehensible...do you really want to hear about the harem of international women who follow us around carrying our bags and attending to our every needs...no you sicko, you shouldn´t. Plus, my sweet old grandmother Grammy reads this blog religiously and unless someone is going to volunteer to intercept every transmission, than all indiscretions will die with me, unless Petro writes a scathing Tell-All book about this trip. If you really cannot live without details from the trip of this nature, a paying site has been established to at least help us captilize financially from these stories: www.awkwardencountersinastrangelandusingafalsename.com. Have fun.

Off to work on my bronze,
Qornelius

The Day of the Bus

Not the best 24 hours of my life but certainly not the worst. Trying to save a little cheese, I took the first leg of the journey to Lima on a cheap bus from Puno to Arequipa. First mistake: sitting in the first row on the 2nd level. Front row panoramic views of every near collision and negligent passing attempt made by the lunatic driver who possesses little regard for the 40 people on board. Top if off with a blazing sun staring in at you and you have yourself a comfortable little ride. My regular boarding ritual includes scouting out any possible english speakers in case of emergency or just sheer boredom (both always likely). In this case it was a trio of Polish girls (most Europeans speak several languages unlike us), who, to my envy were departing the bus soon to fly to Arequipa, thus beating me there by several hours. After a brief conversation, their stop arrived and I wished them luck with their flight and secretly wished for a rain out for them due to their leaving me to wallow in a solitary misery.
First came the orator. He not only was giving a speech to the whole bus, he was screaming it. His fervor and my inability to diagnose the cause he was exalting made me slightly nervous. The faces of those around me confirmed that he speaking of a serious matter. I spent about 10 minutes listening for buzz words such as "imperialists," "evil empire," or "the stupid gringo sitting in the front row." But, I heard none and I put on some tunes to drown out the irate man. Next came the hat pass for money, in which the orator lingered above me extra long with his hat shoved in my face. As I never requested this speech nor did I particularly want to help finance this man screaming at another bus for 30 minutes, I declined payment. May not have been a good move as the man began to scream to the whole bus about the people who "no tienes plata" or those who aren't giving money. Finally, after a while he ridded himself of the bus. Next came the candy beggar. Not possessing the oratical skills to blackmail riders, he merely threw candy in their lap--to be ¨purchased¨by them when he returned. Cripple or not, that kid took a handful of candy to the back of the head and there is no proof that it was me...
The silver lining in that first bus ride was the Peruvian kid sitting next to me who recognized me as someone who could potentially become lost securing a connecting bus from Arequipa to Lima or just a lost soul altogether. After disembarking the first bus he spent 15 minutes of his own time walking me through the steps of getting the ticket to Lima. This unsolicited hospitality by a Peruvian was a breath of fresh air compared to the sneaky tactics seen in Bolivia.
The next bus got a little stranger. Not wanting to re-live the horrors of the first bus, I ponied up a good amount of cash to take a reputable bus company for the overnight journey to Lima. I should have figured things would be weirder when I was walking to the bus and a man was filming me at point blank range. When I asked him nicely just what in the hell he was doing he replied "for safety reasons¨and proceeded to shove the camera in all the passengers faces. You can come up with your own conclusions for why they employ this ¨safety¨tactic. Then there was the rousing game of bingo that was played en route, which lifted my spirits slightly when I was only 2 numbers away from Blackout Bingo. I already had plans in my head of signing the national anthem if I won. This high was quickly extinguished with the proceeding 4 hours of trying to sleep in coffin-like posture. Not until I stuffed myself in the overhead bin (or an unoccupied row) did I get any quality sleep.
It all ended well when I arrived in Lima and found a mustachioed Petro sleeping in the hostel. Re-united again and dreaming of spectacular things to happen while in Lima. Petro has informed me there is a casino that gives out money to Gringos so we will probably go investigate that phenomenon tonight.

Go big or go home,
Q

Lake Titicaca....what???

So my plane to the jungle was delayed again and the time felt right to jump north so I cancelled it entirely booked outta La Paz with some others to make a brief two day stop at Lake Titicaca. In total, for 6 days, 5 nights at the hostel my bill for accommodation, multiple meals, and a nasty bar tab came to $70 USD. Ridiculous. -Have frequent flyer miles and a C-note burning a hole in your pocket?--why dont you head to La Paz for a week long gettaway? Just make sure you can handle being lied to a time or two.

Lake Titicacawas pretty but nothing to write home about (or in a blog for that matter--I provided the Wikipedia link above for those of you who are detail hounds). The overland crossing into Peru was pretty painless and I now find myself in Puno, Peru waiting for another round of 24 consecutive hours of busing to meet up with Petro in Lima just in time to blackout and lose all my belongings on St. Paddys Day.

As for now, I am in desperate need of a shave and shower, so I am heading over to the main plaza's fountain to get it done.

Shaving off what´s left of La Paz,

Q

A Pleasant Ride Down the Death Road

It started high in the snowy Andes mountains at 14,000 ft. with the ceremonial sprinkling of grain alcohol on your bike and into your mouth and ended 10,000 ft lower in the dense, humid forrest jungle of the Yungas Valley. The route between is considered the world's most dangerous road or "the death road" because of the hundreds of unlucky motorists who have made the sometimes 1,800 ft plunge to the bottom. Since the recent completion of a less dangerous road linking the two areas, the traffic on the death road has descreased but the 10 year old activity of mountain biking down the road has remained.

Not wanting to cut corners on what could potentially be a trip ending experience, myself and some travel mates went with the reputable but pricey company Gravity Assisted Biking, which was showcased not long ago by ABC´s Nightline (http://abcnews.go.com/Video/playerIndex?id=413924). Coincidentally, our ride down was partially filmed by another cameraman gathering material for ABC's broadcast of the story in New Zealand. With my cinematic chemistry it is safe to say I will have some serious fans on the otherside of the world as soon as that airs.

Half expecting the ride to fall into the category of an over-hyped adventure travel activity, I was excited to find out the experience lived up to the reputation and a little more. With guardrails practically non-existent, the steeped road is unforgiving for the reckless and second chances for even the cautious are not a guarantee. Scared sh·tless is probably how I would describe myself the first 15 minutes when the guide's repetitive safety talk was reinforced with a quick introductory ride around a couple precipiced corners in very dense fog. This sort of riding continued for the next couple hours and the succession of scenery was amazing. However, I was only half-observing this phenomenon as I was concentrating on the road with freakish focus. I don´t think I have had that type of mental focus since I played an intense game of paper, rock, scissors in college that decided who had to drive a boozy crew all the way to Chicago (I won).

After riding through the freezing snow, we spent a good deal of time in the misty fog that blanketing the valley. Towards the end of the ride the fog lifted and the true perception of what we riding around in was realized. It was stunning, thrilling, and scary. Our guides were good and we had no show-offs amoung us, which resulted in no serious problems and only the ego injury of a girl who flipped over her handlebars, amazingly unhurt. The real amazement came from the notion that these type of activities are allowed to the masses--gotta love third-world tourism.

Today, I sit in anticipation of the full cancellation of my already delayed flight to the Bolivian Amazon area of Rurrenbaque. I have a spot reserved on a 12 seater that is supposed to provide spectacular views of the Andes. I watched clips of the movie ALIVE today on YouTube to prepare myself for any possible dietary changes this trip could produce.

I'm delayed til later but the lady at the tour agency told me that I "will for sure be going today." I have as much faith in her statement as I do with the several dozen other half-truths I have heard since being in Bolivia. I´ll give it until tomorrow afternoon until I´ll give up and head up north.

Don´t lie me,

Brian

La Paz

Greetings from the highest capital city on Earth--La Paz (out of breath just typing that). I now find myself here after spending 2 nights in quite possibly Bolivia´s prettiest city, Sucre. It is just wrapping up the rainy season here and many roads are in bad or unpassable condition, limiting my destinations. My current predicament involves trying to book a flight on a Bolivian military transport plane to get into the much sought after Rurrenbaque jungle area. Reports of travel by bus there is that the 18 hour trip can take 3 days and has induced delirium in those unlucky enough to attempt it. The alternative--flying in, is not much better with supposedly a 80% cancellation rate on the commercial service and a slightly better percentage with the military transport. Gonna shoot for a Wednesday departure if possible. If not, we´ll see where to...

Since my Salar trip I have been travelling with an Aussie named Tom and a Londoner named Ollie. Hooligans and BS-ers in the highest degree--I don´t think there has been a serious topic of conversation since meeting in Sucre. Unfortunately, my comprehension of Ollie´s version of the King´s English is about at the same level as my Spanish language comprehension so I usually have to have Tom translate the English. Many other backpackers have been questioning how such an odd trio began to travel together. They're certainly no Petro, but are gonna have to do in his absence.

La Paz has been a little interesting to say the least...the hostel we found ourselves at is unlike any I´ve stayed at so far..a huge renovated mansion packed with dorms and an almost round the clock bar filled with people who haven´t seen a 9 to 5 in quite some time. I keep waiting for some parental figure to walk in and scold everyone. For some amongst those flocking there, La Paz is a city of unbridled debauchery--reports of nightclubs with mounds of cocaine littering the tables and falling from strung up pinatas are routine. From the sounds of it, it appears somebody packed up Studio 54 and relocated it to a more welcoming city. The participation of some backpackers in this sort of lifestyle here is quite contradictory to their daytime "save the earth with this cause" rhetoric as you can't possibly do more harm to your visiting country than to promote their community poisoning drug trade. But, for the most part, they are in the minority and for more rational minded visitors, La Paz still provides ample opportunity for more responsible extremes.

Don´t ask the "hows & whys" of this story but last night Tom, Ollie, and I found ourselves in a warehouse-turned-gymnasium in the outskirts of La Paz after hearing promises of being able to witness sanctioned womens fighting and wrestling. It is against my ethics to pay to watch women fight as I very well can just watch it on YouTube for free but this experience seemed like something not to pass up. A little disappointingly, much of the fighting was a little WWF-esque but regardless the show proved bizzare in many ways. First, during a break in the bouts, the announcer pointed to a man in the crowd who was rumored to have flashed a knife at one of the wrestlers--he was thrown out to the boos of the crowd. I do not doubt this really happened as during the bouts the crowd often threw various objects at the wrestlers. Also, in every bout the "bad guy" won the match which may have some interesting learning repercussions on the masses of children present at this "family style" event that included wrestlers routinely giving the middle figure to the crowd. I snapped this short movie of the main event--yes, that is a midget you see.

I have an exciting few days coming up. Today, if the weather improves a group of us is going to try and play at the "highest golf course in the world." Not much of a golfer myself, I only pursue this experience to have a leg up on my Uncle Joe. On Tuesday, I am taking a mountain bike down "world´s most dangerous road," which should be a real treat.

Well, that enough superlatives for one blog. I´ll check in with you soon.

Brakes are for sissies,

Q

A Monkey in the Salar

On Another Planet

Hey Kids,
Bolivia has me now whether they like it or not.
Before departing on the tour into Bolivia, I did a little exploring around San Pedro in Chile. I rented a bike and made the journey to the nearby Valle de la Luna, which is a national park that holds a landscape much like the moon (so they say, I will hopefully confirm or deny this later in life). Sand dunes and strange rock formations inhabit the area and during much of my trek around the park I did not encounter many other visitors, making the experience a little more eerie. Other than this magical little excursion I was eager to get out of expensive Chile and onward into the cheap thrills of Bolivia. On Sunday morning, our group consisting 13 people of a smorgasboard of nationalities descended with our guides towards the Chilean/Bolivian border. As the lone American and anticipating some ribbing because of this fact, I brushed up little on my pro-US rhetoric--"Ok, yes we are reponsible for that but guess where those delicious HALLS cough drops you are popping are made?!"
After the comical immigration procedure at a two room shack in the mountains (they stamped my passport again in addition to the consulate taking up 9 spots on it--all but ensuring that at some point this year I will have to go to the U.S Embassy somewhere and have more pages put in. Bolivia 2, me 0), our group divided up into two LandCruisers and began the rapid ascent into the high altitudes of Bolivia. During the first day we went from approximately 5,000 ft. to roughly 15,000 ft, which produced slight headaches for some and head-exploding puking for others. Luckily, I only felt the former. At one stop, when emerging from the car it felt like an instant intoxication and people began to slightly stagger and mix words. To mitigate these symptoms, the guides duly passed out coca leaves for chewing and drinking in tea. Daniel, a Czech riding in my car, was feeling poorly because of the altitude and unknown to us, had been consuming a serious amount of the leaves. Only after I had a conversation with him that included his ramblings on the topics of Czech beer and life under the Soviet regime followed by non-sensical babble, did I and the rest of our car realize that he was pretty zonked out. It didn´t help his pysche that we all began laughing at him hysterically including the guide. He went to sleep for 16 hours not long after that.
Our first night´s lodging was located near one of the many surreally colored lagoons in the Bolivian highlands. The herds of pink flamingos present in these lagoons make it all the more un-earthly looking. Day two started with our guide Jorge making the sign of the cross before we departed in the car, which caused the slightly panicky Dutch girl to exclaim that we were probably going to die today. As I have not fulfilled all that I have been sent to do, I knew this was not the case- but it made me think all the same. Night two was spent on the edge of the famous Salar de Uyuni in a hostal made almost entirely out of salt--furniture and flooring included. "Can you scoop me up some salt for these fries please."
The next day was the highlight of the tour with our entry into the vast salt flats of the Salar de Uyuni. Supposedly one of the Seven Natural Wonders of the World, the Salar will remain somewhat of a wonder to me as our guide Jorge was an expert in the ways of driving, cooking, and mechanics, but lacked signigicantly in area of explaining things. Regardless, Jorge allowed me to view part of the Salar while riding on the top of the LandCruiser, which was amazing until he forgot I was up there and proceeded to try and top the land speed record for the flats. Supposedly the panicky Dutch girl informed him that the American was on the roof of the car, but that only caused the other Europeans in the car to urge him to go faster and maybe hit the brakes once or twice. I survived with one awesome experience and a nasty windburn for a souvenir.
Overall the tour was pretty impressive and some of the pictures should convey why.
And so now begins my immersion into Bolivian life. A recent email sent from a traveller we met in B.A. who had just finished living in Bolivia for over a year gave this advice: "overall, bolivians are great people although huge liars. Dont believe a word they say." And so with this information I now find myself in Bolivia. I took a nightmarish bus ride from Uyuni to Sucre and now I am typing this out in a sleep deprived state waiting for the hostal to open up. Nothing is set in stone but a trip to La Paz and later to the Bolivian Amazon is probably likely. We´ll see what happens.

Lie to me,
Q

Some people have been indicated they would appreciate a little shout out so here it is: Big T Reardon recently received stitches above his eye for reasons probably associated with hitting on a girl--persistance beats resistance Timmy! Jen Tiehen recently found out she is going to be an Auntie--congrats Jenny, Rusty Grizzle sounds like a good name doesn´t it? And Elizabeth Tornabene has made some serious contributions to this trip in the research department-- thanks Elizabeth, how do I find the supermarket in Sucre?