Homeward bound

Geez, where has the time gone? It has been over two months since my last post. I sincerely apologize to those who were eagerly awaiting news from the south.

My final two weeks in South America consisted of a 17, then 28, then 18, then 8 hour bus ride from Ushuaia, up through El Calafate, Bariloche, Mendoza, Argentina and finally Santiago Chile a second time to catch my 14-hr trans-pacific flight to Auckland, New Zealand. Needless to say, I was knackered when I got to Pat's place in Wellington. A good week of catching up over a few scotches was well deserved.

Patagonia is a beautiful place and reminded me of the small slice of Western Canada I saw years ago. The Perito Moreno glacier was awe-inspiring. The glacier groans and cracks as it slides down the Andes and dumps into mineral-laden turquoise lakes between the Chilean and Argentine Andes. Watching ice-bergs calve off the glacier was a deafening and silencing experience, which seems to be becoming the norm in this dream-like adventure I have undertaken over the last few months. In Bariloche, I spent a couple days on some moderate hikes. The area is littered with sheltered lakes and surrounded by out-shoots of the snow-covered Andes. The only thing tarnishing my experience in Bariloche was the swiping of my Apple i-phone. Unfortunate, but just a phone in the end. Otherwise, I managed to escape South America hassle-free. During my three days in mendoza, Argentina, I met up with Seb and Gary, two English guys who play pro rugby in La Liga (Italy). We rented bikes to go on a full-day wine tour. Do they think driving a bike drunk is less dangerous than a car? They're probably right. However, driving your bike after about 10 glasses of red wine, having sat in the sun all afternoon, overlooking wonderful vineyards can be an occupational hazard when mounting the said bike to return home. After a few falls and losing my ray band sunglasses, I made it back to the hostel in time to hit the bed sleeping.

June 8, I departed for Santiago, Chile, where my New Zeland-bound flight was departing from. I met up with Maudi and Eva, whom I met during my first visit to Santiago. We went to a night club function that served as a fundraiser for Earthquake victims in the south. Evidently, my thirst - and subsequent empty wallet - will have definitely gone to the benefit of another, which I was proud of.

June 9, I departed for New Zealand. Now sitting in Australia, I am astonished that nearly two months has passed since I left South America. After visiting with Pat and Hilary, I left for Rotorua to soak in the Polynesian spa (a real outdoor spa. Not a rub n tug) where they have therapeutic outdoor spas that are surrounded by Lake Rotorua. Feeling rejuvinated, I kept on north a wee bit to meet up with Ben, my kiwi friend whom I first met in Santiago and travelled up the Atacama desert and Bolivia. A few obvious celebratory drinks were in order down at the local pub watching the N.Z. Maori (New Zealand's aboriginal representative side) versus England. Maori won and so did Marc's wallet. Ben, myself, and Ben's mate Dave, headed up to Dave's cottage in the Coromandel penninsula (across the bay from Auckland). The cottage was located just on the outskirts of the National Park, on the banks of the Rangi river. A little solar panel on the roof powers the only necessity - The sound system. Stingray, Ben's 3yr old border collie, found and killed himself a big possum. Possums are a major problem in New Zealand, people are encouraged to kill them whenever possible. Unique, considering they are protected in Australia. After the cottage, I took the bus to Auckland where there is absolutely nothing going on. I couldn't be more bored in that city.

So, in need of some increase in adrenaline, I flew to the south island town of Queenstown, the adventure sport capital. In Canada on July 1st, we celebrate Canada Day. On July 1st, the Kiwis also show us a good time for our birthday. I can't tell you how proud of a feeling it is when your birthday falls on the national holiday. I ended up going out with 4 Aussies, who got me pretty wasted on the famous tea pot shooters at World Bar. We then heard there was a wet T-shirt contest going on at Buffalo Bar. I ended up meeting loads of Canadians in there, dressed in hockey jerseys and Coonskin hats. The bar staff were overly generous to me as well when they found it was my b-day. Somehow still managed to spend way too much of my own money, ha. In order to properly bury the hatchet on my birthday, I decided that it was time i went bungee jumping. After a hungover hour walk up the forest trail, I got to the top of the cliff overlooking the city. They strapped me in and away i went. You get a sense of vertigo when the fella tells you to put your feet over the edge and look down. He has to hold you back really tightly as your inclined to fall forward. The jump is over in seconds, but what exhilarating fun that was. I got a great photo album out of it too.

Bussing north to Franz Joseph along the west coast is a wonderful drive. This time of year there is lots of snow on the mountains and the lakes and trees teem with colour. Once I got to Franz Josef, I went on an ice-climbing trek. Ice climbing is an awesome sport. It's pumped full of always-on-the-edge rush and requires good leg strength. The repel down is also a fun reward after grinding your biceps and quads for what seems like an eternity when you're up there. Moving on north again, I got to Greymouth. This was the first time I tried hitch hiking. It is quite common place in NZ to hitch hike. After waiting for about 20 minutes, an Australian mother and daughter picked me up and dropped me off in Hokitika. In Hokitika, I waited another 20 minutes or so where a fellow on his way back to Greymouth named Paul, picked me up got me the rest of the way. I went on a tour of the Monteith's brewery and tried some really good micro brews. I unsuccessfully tried for a couple hours hitching a ride to Nelson, but eventually just got on the bus. Nelson is a cool place. It is the sun and fruit growing capital of NZ. Nearby, you can also find many vineyards in the Picton area, where Pat's uncle Keith and his wife Karen live. I then took the Inter Islander ferry across the Cook straight. Mistake. It was a very rough day on the water. The Cook Straight is the meeting point for the Pacific ocean and Tasman Sea currents. Once back in Wellington, Pat and I got tickets for the New Zealand All-Blacks versus South Africa Springboks Tri Nations rugby. What a game. I normally cheer for South Africa, but they were gettin' pounded in this game so I found myself cheering for NZ by the end of it. Pat's Air Force mate, Luke was also in town. He met with some other Air Force boys after the game. We then met up with Hilary and some of her friends for some drinks at a couple watering holes downtown.

The following Monday, I left for Sydney, Australia where I met up with Jon, who is studying south of Sydney at Wollongong. After catching up over a few glasses of scotch, we started hammering through the first 2 seasons of Breaking Bad - awesome show. The Illawara valley is a fantastic drive. Even more fun Jon's hippie mobile! We hosted a few mates from Jon's program on Saturday night before heading out to the Hotel, as they call it. I then flew to Brisbane Saturday, where I met up with Jonny Ebanks and Craig Strain, some rugby mates from Montreal. The rest of this past week has pretty much blended into one long night as we terrorized various local social venues - with a few Bourbon n' cokes & Kebabs along the way. Craig, his brother Spidey, and I went to the Brisbane Broncos game Monday night for a clash with the Sydney Roosters. Do not let the name fool you. The Roosters are a scary team. Broncos lost a close one, but it was an exciting first Rugby League experience for me. I met up with Joh Beirne yesterday at the Normanby. I first met Joh when we traveled together in Europe a few years ago. The Normanby is a huge patio where everybody goes on Sundays to party it up and end the weekend in fashion. Spidey and his girlfriend, Joanne, are going to be travelling through South America next year. I'm already jealous of them as they are about to embark on an awesome journey!

I depart Brisbane two days from now, bound for Los Angeles and ultimately Toronto. I have a mind storm of emotions going through my head right now. I am sad that this part of my dream is over, but anxious to get home and see Sara, my bro Ryan, and all the others - you know who you are. I remember being in the planning stages of this trip not that long ago. I then quit my job, moved back to Ontario, filled my backpack and away I went, not knowing what was coming up around the next corner. The 'unknowns' aspect and challenges of travelling is what really helps you grow as a person and I feel I am the benefactor of this. I have been writing in this blog hoping I could put into words the experiences I have lived over the last 7 months. Truth be told, I could never truly describe the re-charging of the mind and soul this adventure gave me. I feel that there are monumental things to come over the horizon. I also have hope that we could, if we truly wanted to, to make this world a livable place for all - insert commercial for Jared Diamond's book 'Collapse' here. If you've ever had a dream, no matter what it is, follow it and don't ever let the nay-sayers tell you what is... You have the ability to do anything you want. If you are truly committed to something, work hard and take action to actively pursue it!

Thanks to everyone who has followed my adventure. I hoped you enjoyed reading this blog as much as I enjoyed writing it. See you all soon back in Canada.

Latin Love and The End of The World

I am writing to you from the southern-most city in the world, Ushuaia, Argentina.

Over the last couple weeks, I have enjoyed the sights, sounds and tastes of Buenos Aires with my girlfriend, Sara. I arrived in BA on a Saturday afternoon and headed to a hostel that I knew of, stopping on the way to get some cash from the bank. I had been previously advised by travellers to keep my bank receipts in Argentina because they have a reputation of giving out counterfeit cash. As luck would have it, I would be blessed with two 100 peso bills of this counterfeit nature (200 pesos = $65 CAD). I hit the pub that night with a couple people from the hostel and because I had not slept my last night in La Paz, my body was beginning to wear down. I spent the next two days lying in bed and sipping tea and soup and eventually made a full recovery.

On Tuesday, I checked into an apartment that Sara and I rented for the duration of her stay. It was a studio apartment located on Reconquista, which is a pedestrian street in the heart of the business district. Think one of the cobblestone walkways that intersects Bay street. It is quite a trendy area and the people of Buenos Aires are very beautiful. We were wearing T-shirts and sandals and looked well out of place as they were all wearing their leather boots and winter jackets. We spent most days trekking the city sites and sipping fine (yet cheap, price-wise) Malbec wines. Visited such famed spots as the Recoletta cemetery, where Evita is buried. Evita Duarte was the Charismatic wife of Juan Peron, who presided as president over Argentina twice in the 50´s, once as a decent president and another as a dictator, after Evita had passed away. Evita was a champion of women´s rights and Human rights and gave a friendlier face to the not-so-friendly government of that time. We also strolled past the courthouses, where we stood in awe of the architecture. Think rennaissance period French/Spanish architecture meets Latin American flare and style. La Casa Rosa (The Pink House), which houses the government. The famous Oblisqua in the centre of town. Puerto Madero. The city has lots of green space oncluding a very cool Botanical Garden with French and Japanese gardens contained in it.

We wanted to go to a Boca Juniors football game, but were advised against it by our concierge due to the surrounding ghetto of La Boca, not being very tourist friendly. I did not want to listen to him, as everything I had been told about cities being dangerous for tourists so far along my trip (ie. La Paz, Bolivia and Rio de Janeiro, Brazil) has been complete and total bullshit. Granted, there are certain parts of every major city that you simply do not go. As long as you are not acting up, speak the language and don´t go looking for trouble, you will be fine. In any case, we didn´t go. Good thing too as they got spanked by Huanacu and have spiralled down the standings. The fans surely were not happy and it sould have been a little messy when leaving the stadium with everyone looking to takeout their frustration.

I saw Sara off at the airport last Sunday and got on a flight the next day bound for Ushuaia, Argentina: The southern-most city in the world. It sits in the Tierra del Fuego archipelago at the very south of Argentina. All Antarctic expeditions and major shipping boats pass by here. The city is beautiful. The quaint harbour is surrounded by awesome snow-peaked mountains in the backdrop. My hostel has great view of both the harbour and the surrounding mountains. There is not much going on in the way of tours and expeditions this time of year as it is on the verge of winter here. Fly fishing, off-road expeditions, canoeing, boat cruises to the Antarctic, etc. all cease to run in April. I indulged in a few whiskeys at the world´s southern-most Irish pub the last couple nights as the city - And the rest of the country for that matter - was pretty much shut down for 4 days celebrating the Bi-Centennial of Argentina´s independence. Tomorrow I depart, heading north for El Calafate, where the world´s only advancing glacier is located, el glaciar Perito Moreno. There I hope to climb the glacier and see this awesome display of nature from up close. From there, I head north again, stopping in El Chalten and Bariloche, which is a tourist hub in Patagonia. Continuing north, I will stop into Mendoza to take in some of the wine it´s vineyards have to offer... Hoping I can maybe get some camping in while in the Lake District as well, but that will be weather permitting.

Hasta Lluego

La Paz & Rurrenabaque, Bolivia

Hello again friends, fam and foes.

Giving you the low-down on the last months' work from Rurrenabaque, Bolivia, which is located in the southwest arm of the Amazon basin. I have now been here over a month and I cannot believe how fast it has gone.

Ben, Daan and I spent 3 days in La Paz, just touring the city and booking flights to Rurre. We left on a Monday evening for Rurre, but their airport was closed due to weather - more to come from the weather. We landed at Reyes, which is about an hours' drive from Rurre and got a shuttle into Rurre. Booked into a hostel that night and spent the next day figuring out which jungle expedition company to travel with. Ben and Daan only had 3 days, so they booked a short Pampas tour. Las Pampas are the wetlands. Tour here offer you a stay in an eco-lodge, three meals, and wildlife treks up and down the river. I decided to go with a 10-day jungle expedition by myself with Mogli tours. The history of Mogli tours is an interesting one.

About 15 years ago, a native man, Mogli & Faizar's father, was trekking through the jungle in search of a lost Isreali man that had been lost in the jungle for three weeks. On one of the final nights of their search, Mogli and Faizar's father heard a cry, which the Gringo (the lost man's friend) thought was a wolf crying out in the night. Faizar's dad flew into the jungle with a torch in hand telling the man that what he heard was no wolf, but a human cry. After searching for less than an hour, they came upon the lost friend. Faizar, who was my guide for the 10 days in the jungle, told me that the man was delusional after spending three weeks alone in the jungle with wounds all over from mosquito, sandflies and all the other critters that would feast on you without a net. They built a camp that night and gave the man some food to eat. The next day, they slowly made their way back to Faizar's home where they rested again. The man eventually regained his health and was able to return to Isreal. Two years later, he returned to find Faizar's father and did. He told him, we have to start a tour company that gives people guided expeditions into La Selva (the jungle). Mogli tours became the spearheading company offering guided jungle expeditions. Nowadays, the town lives off this tourism trade.

On our first day, we took a motorboat up the river about three hours. We disembarqued and headed straight into the jungle with a sleeping bag, mosquito net, food for the journey, and our two native guides, Faizar and Miguel. We hiked about 3-4 hours on our first day, arriving at a stony river which would serve as our resting point for the night. Within one hour, we had cleared an area about 20x20 ft and erected a bambo frame covering for our mosquito nets. Dinner that night was amazing... Spaghetti Bolognese with cabbage salad and fried steak. Yeah, fried steak, mmm. Faizar then performed for us a jungle ritual ceremony for La Pachamama. Pachamama is the god that natives here (Quechua, Tacana, Chimani, and another people which I cannot recall) worship. The Pacha signifies the sky/sun and the Mama signifies mother earth. This was such a cool experience. He asked her to keep us safe, give us luck, and keep the jaguargs away while we treek through her jungle. She was very gracious to us indeed.

For the next 5 days, we hiked about 5-6 hours per day through unmarked, thick jungle territory, encountering numerous animals and amazing trees and plants. Our visitors included chancho (pig), cayman (aligator) that Faizar hooked with a pirhana he caught on a fishing line, lol; We subdued a turantula by blowing smoke in her face and basically getting her high. Once she was relaxed, we all took turns getting placed on our heads and she would walk across our face. We also saw lots of monkeys, snake, owl, eagle, parrots and capibara. I caught a 25 pound Pacu (salmon) on the 6th night. Biggest catch I have ever landed.

Each night, Faizar and I would sit either by the river or the fire and he would share stories with us. He is 27 years old - my age - And he has lived in the jungle most of his life. His father and grandfather showed him their skills that their parents passed down to them. This has gone on for many, many generations in these parts. School for these people is La Selva. I can't possible tell you all of the stories he shared as there were so many, funny and not so funny, but I do have to tell you that I felt a strong connection to Faizar. He is my age, but I saw a wisdom in him that far surpasses anything possessed by anyone I have ever met before. I have met a lot of interesting people along my travels so far, but Faizar is really the one that I have learned the most from. I now have a much deeper appreciation for the natural world around us and what Pachamama gives us everybody so we can survive - food, water, shelter, and each other.

After my incredible experience in the jungle, I couldn't leave Rurre. I found out there is an animal refuge association that is opening its newest park, Jacj Cuisi, across the river from here. Inti Warra Yassi is the name of the association. Jane Goodall (AKA The Ape Lady), has commended the association with their efforts as one of Jane Goodall's Heroes awards. They take in orphaned, injured, and mistreated animals and try to give them the best life possible. Release is usually not possible due to their contact with humans and lacklustre hunting skills, but it is possible that this will happen in the future. Volunteering with Jacj Cuisi costs you 50Bolivianos per day ($7CAD) and that includes your accomodation and three meals per day. During my stay, there was also a group of English, Aussie, and South Africans, on a Qwest trip. Qwest is a travel association that takes kids to travel and volunteer on projects in South America and Africa. For the days they spent at the park, we hauled 30-50kg bags of sand, cement, and stone up through the jungle to build a new enclosure for Luna, a female puma coming to the park in a few months. Usually those working on construction do not see the cats that live up in the jungle as the volunteers that work with the cats work with them for at least a month. This establishes trust with the cat and limits the zoo-like contact with humans in order to give the best life they can. On my last day at the park, carting my last bag of cement up the hill I ran into Lishou, the biggest male puma they have. What a sight. He is about 3 feet tall, 90kgs, with a beautiful grey coat and absolutely monstrous paws - They are related to the lion family I am told and they are also known as the cougar or mountain lion in North America. His shoulders went up and he growled like a lion, shining his teeth at me as well. He came over to give me a smell, but wasn't interested in me. I guess that is a good thing, as many of the volunteers have some pretty bad marks on them from being jumped. The cats are only playing, but they are still big cats and can cause some damage.

I got back to Rurre Sunday afternoon, booked a hostel and went for lunch. After lunch, I set out on a mission to get myself to La Paz. Well, holy shit. There has been a road blockade between here and La Paz for about 10 days now. Buses cannot pass and no one knows when it will end. The blockade is apparently over a citrus fruit processing plant. Either people don't want it there as it will kill local farmer's markets (which is my guess) or they were promised the factory (ie. jobs, etc.) and then the company decided to move it elsewhere. And there is no dialect between them and the government at all. So, the only way out of town is to fly, which costs about $75 instead of $10 on the overnight bus. The only available flight was Wednesday morning at 9:50. And why am I writing to you while I should be in the air, you ask? Well, since Pachamama decided to rain down a monstrous load of water the other night, the grass landing strip in Rurre is still to wet to be used. All flights have been pushed back one day - Hopefully only one day!

So, I fly tomorrow evening - fingers crossed - to La Paz for 2 days and then I can find a cheap flight to Buenos Aires. Sara is meeting me there on May 12th... Can't wait to soak up some of the paris of the South, as they say.

Until next time.

The Pantanal, Brazil; Chile & Bolivia

I know it has been a while since we last spoke, so I am combining the last month´´s travel into one blog post... Internet is ´slow´in Bolivia, but then again, so is the pace of life here - Which I am getting well accustomed to.

After taking the overnight bus from Puerto Iguacu, Argentina, I arrived in Campo Grande, Brazil at 7am, where I happened to run into a fellow named Gil. It´s a funny story: Just as I was leaving Iguacu, some Aussies recommended I search out Gil at the Campo Grande bus station. Turns out I didn´t need to search him out as his assistant found me. Gil runs expeditions into the Pantanal, the nature-filled wetland in Southern Brazil (Mato Grosso do Sul state). He used to work in Windsor, Ontario back in the day. After reviewing what they had to offer, I decided to take a chance on him - Booking the first tour you come across in a bus station is not always the best way to go about planning a trek - but it worked out. We drove about 5 hours to the entrance of The Pantanal, where we transferred to a JEEP and had another hour ride down a dusty, bumpy road to Possada Santa Clara. Our lodge was well-equipped with all facilities and we slept in hammocks in the upstairs screened-in patio, safe from the mosquitos.

As far away as we were from ´civilization´I was actually able to catch the 3rd period and overtime of the gold medal match between Canada and the USA. I was obviously happy with the result from the game, so I celebrated with about 5 strong Caiparinhas, who didn´t let me forget about them in the morning. Our three days at the lodge included a river boat tour, where we got to see some monkeys, cayman - which are slightly smaller aligators, King fishers, Herons and many more types of animals I cannot remember. That night also included a safari truck ride, where we spotted some capibara (world´s largest rodent), tucans, Arara (aka Macaws, the big, beautifully colored parrots), cayman, turantula and Boca de Sapo. Fabien, our guide, spotted the Boca in a tree 30 meters away in the dark. This is one of the world´s smallest snakes and is also one of the world´s most dangerous. It can take down a horse in about 3 hours. Our horseback ride the next day yielded a few armadillos and some cayman. Fabien and Marcello were two of the local guides working at the lodge. Marcello is quite the fisherman. The one day he landed a 10-pound catfish.

After leaving the Pantanal, I headed to Bonito with Tom, an Aussie from the lodge. We got in late on a Wednesday night and had a quick beer before bed. The next day was spent dealing with my travel agent regarding refunds for my Chilean flight tickets. I realize now that it is useless to book flights from home when backpacking. Good news though - since the earthquake, LAN airlines has been really good with giving refunds. I got all my internal SA flights refunded without penalty, so all is good in the hood. Bonito is a cool little town. There is so much to do around there. I spent one day with Louise, Hannah and Tom, from NZ, Carlos from Vegas, and Rafael from Rio. Raf was on holidays and decided to join us on a bike tour down to the municipal park. There is a river flowing through the park, where you can feed the fish, lie in the sun, play some volleyball and just chill out. At the park, I had one of the shop owners give me a piece of fried potato to feed to one of the local friendly Macaws. Miel was her name. She pearched herself right on my arm while she nibbled on the fry - a stunning experience having an animal so beautiful be so close. The following day, Carlos, Raf and I went to another park about an hour out of town. This park has marked trails through the forest, where you can stop and view some amazing waterfalls. You can swim in most of the stops. The water rushing down on your back is the best massage you could ever have - and it really gets rid of the awfu hangovers again caused by the caipirinhas.

Carlos and I got the same flight back to Rio on March 9th. We did´t hear they change to the departing gate over the intercom as we don´t speak portuguese and almost missed our flight in Sao Paulo. Upon arrival in Rio, I ran into a couple that was also in the Pantanal the same time as me - Fabien and his girlfriend Virenka. Had a few quiet ones on the beach with Carlos before heading in for the night as I was catching my flight to Santiago the next day.

I wasn´t too sure what to expect with Santiago, based on all the news reports. As you know, news agencies love to over-dramatize things. I am not understating the magnitude of the earthquake that happenned in Chile as it was powerful and caused a significant amount of damage and injury or death. However, context must be given here. Santiago is about 120 kilometers from Concepcion, which was the hardest city hit. Damage is almost unnoticeable in Santiago. The city rebuilt itself with much better infrastructure back in the 60s after their last major quake. There was only one building that was completely collapsed in the whole city, Happy House hostel. Funny enough, this was the first hostel I had on my list before arrving in Santiago and by chance choosing a hostel closer to the airport. Met a fellow named Mathieu at the hostel who is from France, but working there. Shared a few beers with him and the crowd, which included Eva and Maudi. Two Dutch girls studying Latin American studies in Santiago. Some hostels can be a little cliquee, but people at La Casa Roja are all very friendly - except for the Asshole American Chris... Wait, nevermind.

I went on a city tour of Santiago and went up the ´hill´via funicular to get a great view of the city. It is a beautiful city, mind the smog. Bellavista is a great bohemian part of the city where the students and artists hangout. Great for people watching. The next morning, I awoke to a 7-point aftershock. It seems pretty surreal right now looking back as it took me a few seconds to realize what was happening. You can actually see a video of the security cameras at my hostel on youtube. Just type in ´earthquake casa roja´ and you will see it. Spent the day hanging around the pool and chilling out. On the Friday, Eva, Maudi and I went to Valparaiso, an hour and a half east of Santiago along the coast. This is where the Chilean government sits. The day of the inauguration was the day of the aftershock - hopefully not sign of political things to come as Chile has had a rough past, certainly in the last 40 years with Augusto Pinochet and his military dictatorship. Valparaiso is a cool city. It is a colourful city with what many would call artistic grafitti. Grafitti was a way of communicating anti-opressive sentiment when people were censored from doing so during the reign of the said past leader. This phenomena has led to the creation of an outdoor museum. You can tour the upper part of the city and around every corner is a new mural with a description and name of the artist. I caught the last bus back to Santiago after a few farwell drinks with Eva and Maudi.

Saturday morning, I departed on a caravan tour called the Pachamama tour. The caravan takes you on a loop starting in Santiago, either heading north or south and then back to Santiago. The round trip up north takes 10 days. I decided to stay on for 6 and end up in San Pedro, in the middle of the Atacaman desert. Along for the ride were Scott & Hannah (ENG), Ben (NZL), Kev & Dan (HOL), Fabien (GER), Phil (SUI), Claire, Anne and Clo (FRA), our local guide, Yerson, and our driver Rodrigo. Nothing makes a trip like a great bunch of people. Our trek included stops in Serena, Bahia Inglesa, my favourite - Antofagasta and finally San Pedro. Photos really do not due justice to the natural beauty of the Chilean coast or of the Atacaman desert. It is simply something you have to see in person to appreciate. Upon arrival in San Pedro, Ben, Dan, Fabien and I decided to head to Bolivia via Calama in the North of Chile.
It was a Hell of a ride to get here. I was warned about the roads in Bolivia, but they were nothing like I imagined. After driving for what seemed like an eternity, we finally arrived in a little desert town called Uyuni. A nice little place, with a mixture of everything. It is full of tourists, but the town has seemed to keep it´s traditional roots. The little old ladies still wear their pre-colonial garbs with rounded top hats. Bolivians are not as open to forigners as Chileans. I don´t know why, but I can only guess that it is from the utter ignorance, disrespect and imperialism shown to Bolivia over the years by foreign mining companies (and tourists alike who don´t even try to say hello in Spanish) who used many natives to work the salt flats and nitrate mines to death not even that long ago.
Bolivia is a beautiful country rich in culture. I am ashamed to say that before I left, I was of the opinion that: ´Why would I want to go to Bolivia?´I was so ignorant to this beautiful - And cheap! - country. Our hostel costs $3.50 a night, our meals less than $4. Tomorrow, Dan, Ben and I are heading for a 3 day trek into the salt flats. After that, I head to La Paz to soak up some of the delights of the steep city - It is the highest major city in the world - and hopefully find some volunteer work.

Paraty, Sao Paulo and Peurto Iguazu (AR)

There is nothing like an impromptu guitar session with strangers to liven up a room. On our last night in Paraty, we were just hanging around when we were surrounded by Leo, a native Brazlian (more to come on him) and some other hostellers. They banged out some pretty cool tunes late into the night and proceeded to the obvious next step of beach bonfire, which we only found out about after. Still loads of fun though.

Paraty to Sao Paulo is a 6 hour bus-ride. Sao Paulo is the biggest city in Brazil and South America. My assumptions of Sao Paulo were that it was big and dirty and not really for tourists. I was very wrong. What a beautiful city. Expensive, but a very nice city indeed. We spent two nights in a hostel called Casa Club, which funny enough, was run by Leo, the fellow playing guitar in Paraty. He was a great guy and helped us out with a lot. The only thing he f`d up on was the bus tickets to Iguazu, which I will get to. There was a Canadian couple in the hostel we stayed at. They were from Calgary. We were all anxious to watch the hocley game between Canada and the USA. As luck would have it, as soon as the game started, they lost the satellite feed. I went on a run down the street where there are plenty of bars trying to find the game. Not only did I find the game, they were showing outsside a sportsbar on a massive big-screen. Seriously, I have never even seen this size of screen televise a hockey game in Canada, let alone Brazil. When Canada scored, I was the only person n the street jumping and shouting. I got some laughs from locals as I pointed out to them that I was obviously Canadian.

Jack and I left Sao Paulo on a 18 hour overnight bus to Foz do Iguazu. Leo told us that we could show up at 6 and get the 8 o`clock bus no problem. As luck would have it, that was not the case. The 8 o`clock bus was full. The 11 o`clock bus was also full. We tried another company with one bus at 8:30 and again, no dice. We finally found a third company who said they had seats at 10 o`clock, but that we had to travel back accross the city to another bus station where we could then buy tickets. After running around the city on the buses, taxis and metro, we finally made it on the bus and left for Foz do Iguazu. These are the megafalls that are nestled between Brazil, Argentina and Paraguay. The best side to see the falls from is the Argentine side. So after spending 18 hours on the bus with crying, vomiting 1 year olds in front of us and then riding public transit sans air-conditioning, we finally arrived at our destination that is Puerto Iguazu, Argentina later Tuesday afternoon. When you arrive at a destination after a trek like that and get a nice shower and some food in you, it makes it all so worth it. The hostel is pretty cool. It is actually a chain of hostels called Che Lagarto and I plan on staying in them again as I cross South America.

Yesterday, we visited the Falls. Again, I will try to describe them to you, but I would only doing it a diservice. These falls are absolutely stunning. Jaw-dropping. Silencing. They make Niagara Falls look like a leaky urinal stall. No offence Niagara.
As you take one of the lower interior trails, you get up close and personal with the Falls and can only then truly appreciate how awesomely powerful and beautiful they are. Well worth getting soaked to get down there. It was pissing rain yesterday, but the sun did come up just as we approached the lower platform. This gave us an awesome rainbow arching over the bowl of the Falls, truly the silver lining of the day.

After visiting the lower trails, Jack had to take off. He left for Buenos Aires yesterday on a 20 hour bus ride. People in Canada cringe when you say 16 or 18 or 20 hour bus ride, but the buses here are very comfortable and all have reclining seats with air conditioning. It was cool to travel with Jack for a bit. Things are sometimes easier when in groups. So, I pushed on myself to see the other corner of the Falls. Up on top, you can take a train and then another 15 minute walk across the rivers to get to the main attraction, Garganta de Diablo (Devils` thoat). Again, the beauty of it is simply indescribable. I had a gold Brazilian coin in my pocket, so I flicked it over the edge as a symbol of gratitude and also as a wish.

Today was spent just hanging by the pool and chillng out before I embark on another long bus-ride, back up into South Central Brazil. This is Mato Grosso and Mato Grosso do Sur states that include the Pantanal. The pantanal I consider as the Amazin`s younger brother. Campo Grande and Corumba is where I hope to organize a 3-5 day trek into the jungle and put my Algonquin skills to the test - No jokes please, Tim. Thanks.

I survived Carnaval/2010.......Barely!

I know it has been a while since I last posted, due mostly to the inebriated state I found myself and friends in while participating in the much-renowned party of the year - Carnaval.

I left Costa Rica and flew overnight through Miami, arriving in Rio around 8am. Rio is an intimidating city at first glance. I think I crapped myself twice in the taxi from the airport to Santa Teresa, where I was booked in to stay for the week. The cabbies, or any driver for that matter, are all nuts. This is coming from the guy who falls into the category of a classic Montreal driver. I got to my guesthouse around 9am and was greeted by a less than friendly host named Clara. Clara was insulted that I came to Brazil and did not speak portuguese. Spanish will get you nowhere in Brazil - even though the language seems very close. I was pissed off, so I called around last-minute to find some hostels in other parts of the city. As you can imagine, the prices are through the roof for that particular week because of the carnaval. Rio took my budget for a nice stroll over the bridge and then just threw her right off the bridge!

Money aside, I just had the best week of my life. I would be doing Carnaval an insult by even trying to describe this party to you. I mean, 5am is an early night. Ipanema is the hostel/beach district where I stayed and met several other travellers. My first night, I met two Dutch fellows and two English fellows. We decided to go for dinner at this place called Carretao (I can`t seem to find the accents on this keyboard, but there is a wave over the `o`). It is an all-you-can-eat buffet where you fill your plate with the obvious usual fixings. Then, the waiters come around the restaurant with huge masses of beef, chicken, pork, sausage, lamb, all spiced and rotisseried, slicing them off onto your plate. 2 beers included $30CAD, not too bad.

I spent the next day just chilling out on the beach as I was still kind of tired from the flight. We met this English bloke, Jay, who now has a wife in Brazil. He runs tours in the city. Everything from football games to Favella (Shanty towns) tours and brothel tours - No, I did not participate in the latter. He took us to the Favella around the Ipanema point, called Cochina. We were taken up the hill on motorbikes (no helmet of course as this is the Favellas) where we met some local guys just drinking and puffing near our starting point. It is sort of an anomoly. The guys had visible guns on them, but at the same time, they were the nicest people and really appreciated us being there and chilling with them. Our walk took us through the Favella, where Betto, Jay`s local friend, would explain different things about the city. Betto is also the postman in the Favella. Since there are no fixed addresses in the Favellas - nor are many babies accounted for in the population simply because of the way these neighbourhoods have evolved - Betto knows everyone in his district by first name and delivers their mail based on their family name, which gives him the approximate location of the destined receiver. After the Favella, we met Jay`s Columbian friend, Charlito. He ended up coming out with us to endulge in the festivities of the first night of Carnaval, 2010.

Friday night came and Carnaval was officially on! We (myself and about 20 others from the hostel) decided to take in the Lappa Blocos. Lappa is another neighbourhood in Rio and Blocos means means block party. There were 1 million people in the streets that night, all dancing and singing and partying. Our crew sort of split up, as often happens, and we ended up claiming a nice grassy part of the park where we had a big pow-wow. We walked around the streets for a bit and then 5 of decided to head back to the hostel and to the beach in search of sunrise. Watching a sunrise after a night of partying, listening to chill tunes with new friends was a definite highlight along my trek so far.
So, Saturday comes along. Time to re-hydrate and carb-up for what seems to be another another oncoming shit show. We didn`t think the night was going anywhere when all of a sudden we hear in the distance some music thumping. We head to the beach, following the musc like a bunch of zombies after Woody Harrelson (sorry, I just watched Zombieland) and found a huge beach rave taking place right on Ipanema beach. So, we spent the night on the beach partying. Don`t mind all the gay boys kissing and playing with each other. Rio is a very welcoming city for gays and lesbians, especially during Carnaval. Be prepared to see shit you have never or may never see again, because you will see all kinds of everything.

Sunday... I think, we went to the Sambodrome. Samba music and dance in Brazil is absolutely huge. It is their hockey you could say. Becoming a good Samba dancer is a way out of poverty for many young children living in the Favellas. The Sambodrome Sunday night parade is the main event. People work on their costumes, floats and dances, all year long for a chance to show them off and hopefully get recognized by the judges for their efforts. All Samba schools however, do get some funding simply for participating in the event, which is a good geture and ensures that less fortunate people can enjoyt the national passtime like all the rest. We did not go into the Sambodrome as the ticket prices were astronomical. We just did what the locals did and spent our time in the `free area` just checking out the costumes and floats just as they entered the grand stage. After the parade, people just throw their costumes down. It`s amazing, they just throw them down like a bag of rubbish - garbage, sorry, for the North Americans reading. So, we proceeded to do our part for the environment and clean up a bit. We all took costumes and paraded around town for a while with them. I was contemplating mailing mine home, but allas, no dice.

Monday and Tuesday were relatively quiet nights. Remember what a quiet nght means in Rio. Only a dozen drinks and in bed by 5. Wednesday, Jack and I had tickets to the Rio state footbal semi-finals between Flamenco (you may recognize that name as they are the rich club in Rio) and Botafogo, the working class team - my team. I had to be careful about cheering when Botafogo scored an upset win as the fans around me would have certainly not let me leave with all my limbs. One guy was so pissed, he ripped out the seat in front of him, a seat that is bolted to cement. I felt like I was part of a roman phalynx before the game. These people sing, wave, and drum their way into the stadium and do not stop until the game is over. If they win, they keep going long into the night. Another early night got us in bed by 3 and then up at 7 to get the bus to Paraty, a small fishing village 4 hours south of Rio along the coast. Paraty was a nice place to go and chill out on the beach for a couple days. We met up with Rich and Jules, two other Brits we met in Rio. We got detoxed in Paraty before heading to Sao Paulo.

ps. This post may seem a little point-form in some spots, only because there was so much to tell.

PURA-VIDA! (Turrialba, San Jose & Dominical)

My last night in Samara was also Toronto John's last night in Samara. he is a painter from Toronto who comes down and rents a house for a couple months a year. We had a bbq at his place with a few neighbours, mostly Canadians either visiting or living in the neighbourhood. Grilled pineapple, spicey quesadilla rollups (amazing), Fish, rice, chicken, salads and a sort of rhum/fruit/candy cake. I think I had 7 servings in all.

Once I arrived in Sj, I met a couple guys from NYC. We headed up to a less-than-touristy part of town past Guadalupe and up the Central Valley a few kms. The view of San Jose from up there is amazing - more to come on that.

I took the direct bus to Turrialba last Monday and met Massi, Marvin's cousin, at his office. He took me to his place to get settled. That evening we had Tuna sushi and a couple bottles of wine, while listening to Bob Marley and other Central-American and Carribean artists with two of Massi's friends, Mario and Anna-Maria. It's hard not to get into the vibe of the Latin/Carribean music down here. There are so many talented artists from Jamaica, to El Salvador, to Costa Rica and South America. The next morning, I headed out on a rafting expedition with Massi's outfit, Explornatura. They are the leading outfit in Turrialba for rafting. The town of Turrialba is also hosting the rafting World Cup later this year. Massi is well-connected as he is the president of the Chambre of Tourism of Turrialba. We rafted mostly class III and a couple class IV and our full day trip also included a fabulous shore lunch.

Massi has business is Dominical (Central Pacific coast), so I hopped in the car for the ride and we spent two days there. The first night was spent having beers with a few random Americans and El Salvadorians (sp?) on the beach. With not much sleep in me, I spent all of Friday lying on the beach and generally doing nothing. Friday night, we had a riverside BBQ at Chappy and Andrea's place, Massi's business partners. Our BBQ consisted of freshly caught Mahi Mahi, marinated in a fruity, spicey blend 'a la Chappy' with roasted potatoes and cooked over a grill overlooking the river - Best meal I have had so far hands down.

Early yesterday morning, we left Dominical for San Jose. I wish I could put into words the sights we saw along the way. The Pan-American highway runs through the southern central valley - This is the same chain of mountains connecting with the Andes. To the north, above San Jose, the Central Valley mountains connect with the same Rocky Mountains that wind their way up to BC. The highway winds its way through Central Costa Rica, above the cloud line and eventually to the top of Costa Rica, 3500m up. On a clear day, you can hike another couple hundred meters up and if there are no clouds in the sky, you can see both the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. The view is jaw-dropping. I am having trouble uploading pics, but be sure to have a look at them when they are eventually posted.

I am hopefully going to meet up with Dave, Marvin and Johnny today as we have all been sort of off the radar the last few days. It is election fever in the city as their presidential elections are being held today and people are taking to the streets. They sure take their elections seriously around here. The honking and chanting goes all day long and through the night.

As I prepare to leave Costa Rica behind and I think about all that I have done in the past three weeks and all the people I have met. One word sums it all up. Pura Vida! Literally translated it means Pure Life. Ticos use this word when they meet someone from another country to say welcome. It also means cheers, high-five, no worries, good times. But most of all, it means live life to the fullest and live it now. Pura Vida!

Onto Rio de Janeiro Tuesday with a mild stop-over in Miami. Viva Carnaval!