Wednesday, December 31, 2008
new zealand, new year!
Hi hi! We've made it safe and sound and have rung in the new year. I hope this post find everyone likewise.
Monday, December 29, 2008
The End of an Era By Katy Jane
Pictures! From this time and last time:
Fox in the pool with a cutie-patutie dog... woof!
Us waiting for a new bus in the apocadesert....bummer!
Gorgeous sunsent in Lima from Harrison´s balcony... que rico!
Inca stone work... wowy zowy!
Us girls at Machu Pichu... OMG!
Team Fox, minus photographer Katy, on the Hiram Bingham train to MP... fambly!
-------------------------------------------
Hi Sports Fans! I´m going to open this post with a video message from Santiago, Chile:
So happy holidays and all that. We celebrated Christmas by eating Chinese food, lounging poolside, and making a new (and different, though equally excellent) experience of the holidays - away from family, but with a loving family of friends. We have been in Santiago for a week or so, arriving after four long, hot, icky days and three dusty, chilly, stiff nights on busses from Lima. This was our least hitch-free bus ride, as one bus got in a minor collision (we got rear ended, breaking out water tank and the windsheild of the bus behind us) and the other had and unknown mechanical problem (air conditioning?). Owing to this, we had to wait several hours each time for a new bus to come. We did, however, meet a lovely new friend (and mother figure), Juan Pablo from Ecuador, who helped us along the way and brightened our days and nights. Our time in Santiago has not been the most exciting, but it has been essential. We are collectively a little worn out from traveling ever so intensely for over two months, not to mention in countries where even basic communication is often difficult. So we have been resting up, reading up, eating up, and getting super, super, SUPER excited for our trans-Pacific jump to NEW ZEALAND!!!!!! which happens TODAY!!!!!! As I write this, somewhat franticly, the girls are packing their things to head to the airport, where we fly to BA and then to Auckland, where we arrive in the wee hours of New Years Eve Day. We have already been in contact with WWOOFing hosts, and are so excited to be back on the farm, this time learning how to milk cows and make cheese (OMG!!!).
Since today marks the end of the first part of our trip and it is very almost a new year, I think some reflection, recolection, and rememberance is in order. We have had a lovely two and a half months; we have learned, grown, experienced, danced, read, heard, breathed, seen, spoken, tasted, felt in all sorts of new ways. For me, someone who recently wrote a thesis on the American Dream, being on another American continent and steeped in another American culture has really been eye opening. One America could not, would not and can not be separated from the other and we have seen this relationship from the other side. I think one of the biggest things I´ll take away from South America is the responsibility of either deliberately calling myself ¨American,¨ or someone who is ¨from the United States,¨ but now knownign that the two are not one in the same. We have all come to reconsider our ¨American¨ identities as well as our roles as ¨people from the US.¨This I think is the most valuable lesson learned so far, and, on an international level, the timing couldn´t be more perfect.
Jess, just surveyed, reports that adaptablitity is what she has learned most on this trip. We have been confronted with many situations in the last two months that have been hard (Krishna farming), gross (hostel bathrooms), unusual (living out of a backpack with a very limited wardrobe), or otherwise not ideal (sleeping on busses). In contrast to this, we have been lucky enough to experience myriad other situations that have been liberating (having very few material possesion, including clothing), ecologically - and maybe even spritually - enlightening (Organic Krishna Farm), and character building (cold showers). Drawing inspiration from one of our recent favorites, the girls and I would like to think we know what he means when Che Guevara say ¨I felt incapable of making any decisions but clung to the thought that no matter how bad things became, there was no reason to suppose we couldn´t handle it.¨ So thats good and a good lesson learned - a confidence and ability to roll with the punches.
Laura is in the shower so I can´t ask her what she has learned, so in the interim, I´ll include another group realisation. From Edith and our serenditptious mother figures to hostel friends and bus drivers, we have come to realize just how awesome people can be. And awesome doesnt even do justice to the kindness, openness, and generosity we have been shown absolutely EVERYWHERE we´ve been. Not one single person has been nasty to us (excluding drunk men at clubs who confuse sexual advances with friendlieness.. ick!), we have been stopped on the street when obviosuly confused by the the map and asked if we need directions, we have had several people speaking in various languages attempting to solve our probelems. This random kindess is something that has really touched us and stirred in us all the want and desire to pay it forward. Never again will we shy away from the befuddled, non-English speaking tourist in our home towns, but instead listen very carefully, look closely at their maps, and even walk with them to their desination if we deem the directions confusing.
Ok, Laura is out of the shower and reports this: balance and communication. Having all been used to the rigors and schedules of college, we have all had to adjust to life without certain parameters. We are up to our own devices in every sense of the word, from feeding ourselves enough and finding a place to sleep everynight to keeping ourselves busy and feeling satisfied. We have learned to strike a balance between rapid touring all day and partying all night, only to sleep the day away. More importantly, we have learned that importance of communication with eachother, which includes honesty, assertion, patience, and integrity. This carries over to our communications with people at home, which is not always easy or constant, but hopefully becoming more meaningful and relaxed.
So! We´ve lived, loved, learned and now we must go to the airport. Next time we post we´ll be in NEW ZEALAND speaking English in a new year on a continent we´ve never been to... hurray! We love love love everyone and miss you times 10 and hope you are all well and the new year finds you all happy and healthy!
kisses on the cheek like the do here,
katy and the girls
marcus: world - 12 j - 63
Fox in the pool with a cutie-patutie dog... woof!
Us waiting for a new bus in the apocadesert....bummer!
Gorgeous sunsent in Lima from Harrison´s balcony... que rico!
Inca stone work... wowy zowy!
Us girls at Machu Pichu... OMG!
Team Fox, minus photographer Katy, on the Hiram Bingham train to MP... fambly!
-------------------------------------------Hi Sports Fans! I´m going to open this post with a video message from Santiago, Chile:
So happy holidays and all that. We celebrated Christmas by eating Chinese food, lounging poolside, and making a new (and different, though equally excellent) experience of the holidays - away from family, but with a loving family of friends. We have been in Santiago for a week or so, arriving after four long, hot, icky days and three dusty, chilly, stiff nights on busses from Lima. This was our least hitch-free bus ride, as one bus got in a minor collision (we got rear ended, breaking out water tank and the windsheild of the bus behind us) and the other had and unknown mechanical problem (air conditioning?). Owing to this, we had to wait several hours each time for a new bus to come. We did, however, meet a lovely new friend (and mother figure), Juan Pablo from Ecuador, who helped us along the way and brightened our days and nights. Our time in Santiago has not been the most exciting, but it has been essential. We are collectively a little worn out from traveling ever so intensely for over two months, not to mention in countries where even basic communication is often difficult. So we have been resting up, reading up, eating up, and getting super, super, SUPER excited for our trans-Pacific jump to NEW ZEALAND!!!!!! which happens TODAY!!!!!! As I write this, somewhat franticly, the girls are packing their things to head to the airport, where we fly to BA and then to Auckland, where we arrive in the wee hours of New Years Eve Day. We have already been in contact with WWOOFing hosts, and are so excited to be back on the farm, this time learning how to milk cows and make cheese (OMG!!!).
Since today marks the end of the first part of our trip and it is very almost a new year, I think some reflection, recolection, and rememberance is in order. We have had a lovely two and a half months; we have learned, grown, experienced, danced, read, heard, breathed, seen, spoken, tasted, felt in all sorts of new ways. For me, someone who recently wrote a thesis on the American Dream, being on another American continent and steeped in another American culture has really been eye opening. One America could not, would not and can not be separated from the other and we have seen this relationship from the other side. I think one of the biggest things I´ll take away from South America is the responsibility of either deliberately calling myself ¨American,¨ or someone who is ¨from the United States,¨ but now knownign that the two are not one in the same. We have all come to reconsider our ¨American¨ identities as well as our roles as ¨people from the US.¨This I think is the most valuable lesson learned so far, and, on an international level, the timing couldn´t be more perfect.
Jess, just surveyed, reports that adaptablitity is what she has learned most on this trip. We have been confronted with many situations in the last two months that have been hard (Krishna farming), gross (hostel bathrooms), unusual (living out of a backpack with a very limited wardrobe), or otherwise not ideal (sleeping on busses). In contrast to this, we have been lucky enough to experience myriad other situations that have been liberating (having very few material possesion, including clothing), ecologically - and maybe even spritually - enlightening (Organic Krishna Farm), and character building (cold showers). Drawing inspiration from one of our recent favorites, the girls and I would like to think we know what he means when Che Guevara say ¨I felt incapable of making any decisions but clung to the thought that no matter how bad things became, there was no reason to suppose we couldn´t handle it.¨ So thats good and a good lesson learned - a confidence and ability to roll with the punches.
Laura is in the shower so I can´t ask her what she has learned, so in the interim, I´ll include another group realisation. From Edith and our serenditptious mother figures to hostel friends and bus drivers, we have come to realize just how awesome people can be. And awesome doesnt even do justice to the kindness, openness, and generosity we have been shown absolutely EVERYWHERE we´ve been. Not one single person has been nasty to us (excluding drunk men at clubs who confuse sexual advances with friendlieness.. ick!), we have been stopped on the street when obviosuly confused by the the map and asked if we need directions, we have had several people speaking in various languages attempting to solve our probelems. This random kindess is something that has really touched us and stirred in us all the want and desire to pay it forward. Never again will we shy away from the befuddled, non-English speaking tourist in our home towns, but instead listen very carefully, look closely at their maps, and even walk with them to their desination if we deem the directions confusing.
Ok, Laura is out of the shower and reports this: balance and communication. Having all been used to the rigors and schedules of college, we have all had to adjust to life without certain parameters. We are up to our own devices in every sense of the word, from feeding ourselves enough and finding a place to sleep everynight to keeping ourselves busy and feeling satisfied. We have learned to strike a balance between rapid touring all day and partying all night, only to sleep the day away. More importantly, we have learned that importance of communication with eachother, which includes honesty, assertion, patience, and integrity. This carries over to our communications with people at home, which is not always easy or constant, but hopefully becoming more meaningful and relaxed.
So! We´ve lived, loved, learned and now we must go to the airport. Next time we post we´ll be in NEW ZEALAND speaking English in a new year on a continent we´ve never been to... hurray! We love love love everyone and miss you times 10 and hope you are all well and the new year finds you all happy and healthy!
kisses on the cheek like the do here,
katy and the girls
marcus: world - 12 j - 63
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Ode to Pachamama by Laura
**DISCLAIMER!!! We are unable to upload our pictures/videos. Please be patient! Our lifestyle ain't always easy and the web ain't always perfect!!!11!!1!!!~~``~!**
After leaving Mendoza at the end of Susie's time with us we made our way to Lima via a series of epic bus rides through the desert and have since returned to Peru's capital after 10 days of whirlwind travel with my dear parents and brother. We have loved Peru and have traversed it by budget buses, luxury trains, and almost every type of transport in between, while simultaneously fluctuating in altitude from sea level to 14,000 feet and back again. Although five out of the six members of the group succumbed to projectile vomiting due to nausea at some point on the most intense and activity-packed "vacation" we have ever experienced, we all emerged with a great love and appreciation for Quechua Socialized living, trekking sandals(!), and above all, Pachamama.
Before the Foxes arrival in Lima, we were once again so fortunate as to have virtual strangers bestow upon us their hospitality and time in showing us their city. The first was our past (and current) host Harrison, an acquaintance of Katy's, who allowed his apartment and life to be overrun by the three of us. Secondly was my college friend Regina's cousin, Esteban, a lifelong Lima resident who generously showed us all around the city from an insider's perspective. This included trying lucuma ice cream, watching him eat the Peruvian delicacy of anticuchos -- cow hearts, and a trip to our consummate favorite neighborhood, Chinatown.
Once our travels with the family began we were able to see the stark contrast between Lima, the colonial center of the Spanish, and the Andean cultures which have preserved their traditions albeit often disguised to quell the Spanish Catholics. Our introduction into pre-Columbian Peru and the scene of our en masse vomiting incident was at the Nazca Lines -- a series of lines dug into the desert that transform into giant depictions of various animals and geometrical symbols when seen from a plane. Mind you the plane is a single-engine cessna and the day was particularly windy (justification for our collective weak stomachs). Although we were very grateful to be back on the ground, the site was remarkable for its millenia old grand-scale engineering as well as for its mysterious origin and purpose.
Next we made our way to Cuzco where I contemplated running away to join the Quechuas to live and work in their socialized terrace farm communities, but decided to stay with the group in order to ride the fancy train up to Machu Picchu (still trying to find the happy medium between socialist and capitalist). While visiting Machu Picchu the "not actually lost city of the Incas," we were hindered rather than helped by the various and often conflicting "life-changing" accounts of fellow travelers so I will not say much in that regard except that it truly felt like we were in a sacred place destined for something beyond this life -- especially after the girls and I hiked, crawled, and side-stepped for more than five hours to and from Machu Picchu Mountain and looked down upon the Incan city. Besides the sacred site upon which Machu Picchu was built, the stonework of all the Incan ruins we saw was incredible -- without metal tools or wheels they transported massive stones and fit them together without space for a piece of paper between them.
Our next big stop was Lake Titicaca -- the supposed origin of the great Incan Empire and what the Spanish thought was the fountain of youth. Lake Titicaca is huge and there are many islands in it that are the main draw of the area because of their culture and traditions that were more isolated and thus better equipped to withstand the Spanish influence. The cities that surround the Lake, however, are a bit lackluster which was further emphasized by our accommodations being located on a converted island prison. Our day on the Lake was really incredible -- we visited one of the fifty Floating Islands which are the result of the Uros people fleeing the aggressive expansion of the Incas. The Uros people base their entire lives on the reeds that naturally grow in the Lake -- they use the roots for the base of their islands and use the reeds for food, ground cover, and building materials. In order to get a better view of the Floating Islands we took a ride on a boat made entirely of, guess what? Reeds! The boat was operated by two oarsmen who were kind enough to let me refresh my bladework skills that have deteriorated since my collegiate rowing days many moons ago. Also on the Lake we visited Isla Taquile which seems largely unchanged for thousands of years -- seen most recently in their denial of a major hotel company's multi-million dollar proposal to build a resort on half of their small island. Their desire to maintain their culture is based on communal living in which family and food have paramount importance whereas money is valued only in order to provide necessities instead of modern comforts. Isla Taquile lends itself to me coming full circle with the title of this entry. Pachamama is the Quechua name for Mother Earth who is just as highly valued as Pachapapa, the Sun God, in accordance with the Quechua emphasis on balance and their deep respect for nature. While in Peru we have experienced various aspects of nature and seen the way in which the people that live in commune with their surroundings have inspired us to be more thankful for what Pachamama has given us.
for marcus: 55 jess 10 world
After leaving Mendoza at the end of Susie's time with us we made our way to Lima via a series of epic bus rides through the desert and have since returned to Peru's capital after 10 days of whirlwind travel with my dear parents and brother. We have loved Peru and have traversed it by budget buses, luxury trains, and almost every type of transport in between, while simultaneously fluctuating in altitude from sea level to 14,000 feet and back again. Although five out of the six members of the group succumbed to projectile vomiting due to nausea at some point on the most intense and activity-packed "vacation" we have ever experienced, we all emerged with a great love and appreciation for Quechua Socialized living, trekking sandals(!), and above all, Pachamama.
Before the Foxes arrival in Lima, we were once again so fortunate as to have virtual strangers bestow upon us their hospitality and time in showing us their city. The first was our past (and current) host Harrison, an acquaintance of Katy's, who allowed his apartment and life to be overrun by the three of us. Secondly was my college friend Regina's cousin, Esteban, a lifelong Lima resident who generously showed us all around the city from an insider's perspective. This included trying lucuma ice cream, watching him eat the Peruvian delicacy of anticuchos -- cow hearts, and a trip to our consummate favorite neighborhood, Chinatown.
Once our travels with the family began we were able to see the stark contrast between Lima, the colonial center of the Spanish, and the Andean cultures which have preserved their traditions albeit often disguised to quell the Spanish Catholics. Our introduction into pre-Columbian Peru and the scene of our en masse vomiting incident was at the Nazca Lines -- a series of lines dug into the desert that transform into giant depictions of various animals and geometrical symbols when seen from a plane. Mind you the plane is a single-engine cessna and the day was particularly windy (justification for our collective weak stomachs). Although we were very grateful to be back on the ground, the site was remarkable for its millenia old grand-scale engineering as well as for its mysterious origin and purpose.
Next we made our way to Cuzco where I contemplated running away to join the Quechuas to live and work in their socialized terrace farm communities, but decided to stay with the group in order to ride the fancy train up to Machu Picchu (still trying to find the happy medium between socialist and capitalist). While visiting Machu Picchu the "not actually lost city of the Incas," we were hindered rather than helped by the various and often conflicting "life-changing" accounts of fellow travelers so I will not say much in that regard except that it truly felt like we were in a sacred place destined for something beyond this life -- especially after the girls and I hiked, crawled, and side-stepped for more than five hours to and from Machu Picchu Mountain and looked down upon the Incan city. Besides the sacred site upon which Machu Picchu was built, the stonework of all the Incan ruins we saw was incredible -- without metal tools or wheels they transported massive stones and fit them together without space for a piece of paper between them.
Our next big stop was Lake Titicaca -- the supposed origin of the great Incan Empire and what the Spanish thought was the fountain of youth. Lake Titicaca is huge and there are many islands in it that are the main draw of the area because of their culture and traditions that were more isolated and thus better equipped to withstand the Spanish influence. The cities that surround the Lake, however, are a bit lackluster which was further emphasized by our accommodations being located on a converted island prison. Our day on the Lake was really incredible -- we visited one of the fifty Floating Islands which are the result of the Uros people fleeing the aggressive expansion of the Incas. The Uros people base their entire lives on the reeds that naturally grow in the Lake -- they use the roots for the base of their islands and use the reeds for food, ground cover, and building materials. In order to get a better view of the Floating Islands we took a ride on a boat made entirely of, guess what? Reeds! The boat was operated by two oarsmen who were kind enough to let me refresh my bladework skills that have deteriorated since my collegiate rowing days many moons ago. Also on the Lake we visited Isla Taquile which seems largely unchanged for thousands of years -- seen most recently in their denial of a major hotel company's multi-million dollar proposal to build a resort on half of their small island. Their desire to maintain their culture is based on communal living in which family and food have paramount importance whereas money is valued only in order to provide necessities instead of modern comforts. Isla Taquile lends itself to me coming full circle with the title of this entry. Pachamama is the Quechua name for Mother Earth who is just as highly valued as Pachapapa, the Sun God, in accordance with the Quechua emphasis on balance and their deep respect for nature. While in Peru we have experienced various aspects of nature and seen the way in which the people that live in commune with their surroundings have inspired us to be more thankful for what Pachamama has given us.
for marcus: 55 jess 10 world
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Buenos Aires – Adventures with My Born-Again Homeless People - Guest Post by Suze Tull!!!
(Better late than never! The girls are already in Peru but it has taken me a few days since returning home from Argentina to write this post.)
Being homeless is tough – even if you are homeless because you chose to backpack around the world after college. You’re constantly mobile, sleeping someplace different (and usually in bedding of questionable quality, if bedding at all), wearing your cleanest dirty clothes, figuring out transportation – whether across town or an international border, watching every penny when it comes to food and supplies, exerting significant mental energy to speak the local language and more. I’m beat just composing this list.
So when I arrived the Friday before Thanksgiving at the very modern and hip Hotel De Diseno in Buenos Aires’ stylish Recoleta neighborhood, our little vagabonds, five weeks into their trip and having recently spent 10 days on the spartan Hare Krishna farm, were in good spirits and health but a bit worn out and needing some TLC.
I found the girls in the hotel’s lower lobby, sprawled listlessly, like wilted flowers, across a white shabby chic sofa. Katy Jane’s mascara was smudged halfway down her cheeks and all three chicas were moaning about smelling less than optimal (my paraphrasing of what they actually said). They had gone out dancing the night before and finally left the club around 6:30 a.m. in this very European city, which never sleeps (dinner at 11 p.m. is common, and clubs rarely get going before 2:00 a.m.).
Unable to check in prior to my arrival, the girls had been “napping” in the park across the street. Fortunately, Buenos Aires also is a city of beautiful, well-shaded parks every few blocks, always filled with people and their off-leash dogs.
When we finally got to our accommodations – a lofted suite with two bathrooms including a rain showerhead and Jacuzzi, the cleansing began. I got concerned when 50 minutes passed and Laura was still in the shower, but she was fine. Jess soaked in the tub for just as long. I forget what Katy Jane did but it likewise involved a communion with water and soap. Amidst it all, there was discussion about washing off layers (note the pluralization) of residual dirt from the huerta. And I was asked to take a vow of silence, promising to never disclose the color of anyone’s bath water.
Then we all passed out in big, plush beds with comforters until well after dark. Around 11 p.m., revived and right on time for BA, we went to dinner nearby. I noticed at this and every subsequent meal with our travelers that there was never a speck of food left on a single plate and that desserts vanished within a few minutes of being set down on the table. I also noticed that Jess loves gnocchi, which is widely available in Argentina due to significant Italian heritage and population.
On Saturday, we bussed across town to El Campo Argentino de Polo to watch some of the country’s best teams compete in the four-week long 115th Argentine Polo Open Championship (“El Abierto”). This is one of the most prestigious, annual, competitive events in the world of polo, a sport at which the Argentines excel globally. I think the girls enjoyed the spectacle of the matches but it triggered some debate about animal rights.
The following day, we went to the weekly Sunday flea and crafts market in the antique district of San Telmo. As is often the case with these types of events, the street performers and people watching were superior to the merchandise being sold, with few exceptions. 
Katy Jane and I ran some errands near the hotel on Monday so we got a good feel for the neighborhood in Recoleta, which she likened to NYC’s Upper East Side. It had lots of fancy shops, including more confiterias (pastry shops) and high-end children’s clothing boutiques than we could count. We stopped in at Dos Escudos to pick up a tray of treats, which we ate in about five minutes around midnight in a spur-of-the-moment, hotel room pajama party. The day also included at pit stop to see great art at the Museo de Arte Latinoamericano de Buenos Aires, one of many outstanding art museums in the city. That evening, we went to the touristy but fun tango show at the historic Café Tortoni -- amazing dancing!
Patagonia -- Heaven on Earth
After four days in BA, Katy Jane and I took a three-hour flight to El Calafate in Southern Patagonia for a few days of outdoor exploration. I have been to the Canadian Rockies and the Alps in three countries but I have never seen anything as exquisite as what I saw here, at what is almost the end of the earth in the southern hemisphere. The view from our rustic-style hotel, La Cantera, included mountain peaks and the turquoise Lago Argentino. 
The nearby Parque National de Los Glacieres is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and includes the Perito Moreno Glacier, where we trekked with crampons. 
We spent Thanksgiving day horseback riding at Estanicia Cristina. Breathtaking!
Although we’re not huge carnivores, one evening we went to Don Pichon, a parilla (these restaurants specializing in grilled meats are everywhere in Argentina) that the chef at our hotel recommended. The waiter brought a table-top grill piled about half a foot high with several types of steaks, some lamb and also sausage (but no morcilla, or blood sausage, at our request) and what we later found out were intestines, although we didn’t eat the latter because we suspected it was something like that. The lamb, very popular in Argentina and especially Patagonia, was delicious and so were some of the steaks, but some were average – an experience we had several times during my 10 days in the country. The $12 bottle of wine – a Malbec-Syrah blend from Bodega del Fin Del Mundo – was a knock out.
Mendoza – Wine Lover’s Mecca
The day after Thanksgiving, Katy Jane and I reunited with Laura and Jess in Chacras de Coria, a suburb of Mendoza -- the heart of the Argentine wine country. We stayed in a precious little hotel, Lares de Chacras, within walking distance of the town plaza and casual restaurants with good simple food like pizza and fresh salads as well as more great $10 bottles of Malbec.
And now this is where I will apologize to Bob and Linny Fox and also August and Cindy Caimi for putting the girls in the position of being over served. If they were “born again” in Buenos Aires, in the Mendoza area, they fell off the path … under my watch. Sorry. I hired a driver for a day to take us to several vineyards including Achaval Ferrer, only six or seven years old but already regarded as one of the top quality producers in the country. 
We also went to an older, more traditional winery, Viña el Cerno, which was where the real over-serving occurred. We all agree it was the tour guide’s fault – he was insistent that we try 11 wines and we didn’t want to hurt his feelings by declining and especially by not finishing the half glass “tastes” he poured of each. 
We were not very productive the rest of the day.
But it’s amazing what a long, deep sleep in real beds can do! It’s also amazing how people everywhere kept wanting to overserve us. The next day, I went to the Andean foothills to mountain bike while the girls slept late, hung out at the hotel pool and make travel plans to get to Lima. That evening, we went into the city of Mendoza to check out the Vines of Mendoza tasting room, where we hooked up with a friend of a friend of mine who is the COO there. Well, one thing led to another and I am sure that you can figure out how the rest of the night went … and Jess had gnocchi, too. 
Thanks, Jess, Katy Jane and Laura for allowing me to crash your trip. I had a blast with you!
Friday, November 28, 2008
Full of Thanks! By: Jess
Though you might not believe it, experiencing Thanksgiving in another country drove home the actual spirit behind the holiday. Once the big meal, and the decorations, the football game and the general atmosphere of the holidays was stripped away, I really saw all that I had to be thankful for. To start the story of our Thanksgiving, it is important to note that Laura and I have been flying solo for a few days. Katy and Susie took off for a few days in Patagonia (to confirm the existence of penguins). As I type, Laura and I are waiting for them in a beautiful little bed and breakfast in Mendoza, Agentina. This is important because Laura and I cannot speak Spanish very well. Italian gets you only so far, but having Katy around (who DOES speak Spanish) is always a plus.
So, Laura and I, non-spanish speakers, had planned to spend Thanksgiving in a city called Cordoba. The second largest city in Argentina (after BsAs), and really the Boston of Argentina as it is famous for its universities and student culture. Our Thanksgiving morning actually started off quite pleasantly ... we woke up on the roof of our accomodations. It was HOT in Cordoba ... in the 90s, and there was simply no air flow in our room, so Laura and I decided to drag the mattress to the roof, and slept soundly and comfortably. We woke up very leisurely on Thanksgiving morning. Our plan for the day involved going to a museum, baking a pecan pie, and then sharing the pie (in true Turkey Day spirit) with a fellow traveller who had offered us dinner and conversation about New Zealand. Upon returning to our room however, we were immediately greeted with some unpleasant news. An Argentine (who, thankfully, spoke Italian) told us that a major bus strike was imminent, and unless we wanted to stay the entire weekend in Cordoba, we had better get ourselves to the bus station. Laura and I did not want to miss the weekend in Mendoza with Katy and Susie, so we packed our packs, sweating profusely in the heat, and grabbed a cab to the bus terminal. Thankfully, the strike had not yet started, and we managed to find the perfect bus out of Cordoba to Mendoza leaving at 10pm that night. We were even able to get a good price on a "cama" bus fare, which means that your chair folds almost flat and is ideal for overnight sleeping.
We bought the ticket, thrilled at our luck of having found someone who spoke Italian, who realized that it might be a good idea to tell us of the impending strike, and then happy with having found the perfect ticket. But. Now what? It was just barely noon and we had an entire 10 hours to kill. We ate a "feast" of bread and cheese and apples and orange soda ... purchased from the very shady supermarket in the bus station. It was NOT the thanksgiving meal we were used to, but luckily, the cheap cheese turned out to be surprisingly good, and we were both full after the meal. Sometime soon after eating, we realized that we had probably sweated away the meal and 10 pounds more just sitting in the airless bus station. Luckily enough, there just so happened to be one of the most famous parks in the city only 2 blocks away and we decided to head there for napping and sunbathing.
So you know exactly what our Thanksgiving "feast" looked like:
2 blocks to a park never sounds like a lot ... untill it is 95 degrees, and you are carrying a 20 plus pound backpack. We crashed in the first shady spot we found. Turns out that the spot was "shady" for a number of reasons. We had been lying around for 10 minutes when a police officer came riding up to us on his cute little bike and looked at us like we were crazy ... he quickly figured out that we werent from the area (surprised!?) and began to speak very slowly so we would understand. We had been lying around in a sort of peligroso (danger danger!) area of the park, and he suggested we move. How lucky for us. The last thing we needed was to lose our entire packs, which conventiently contain our entire LIVES.
We walked on, a little depressed at having to go on in the blistering heat, and wishing that we had cold water. The water in Laura´s bottle was actually close to boiling. LUCKILY, we managed to find the most beautiful rose garden, fenced in, abundant with shade. And would you believe that there was a COLD WATER fountain across the street? Just to make sure we were ok, our friendly police officer came back by on his bike and chatted us up for a few, being patient with our Italian/Spanish.
Around 8pm we decided to grab some dinner before getting on the bus. The restaurant we wanted wasnt open yet, so we went to a bar around the corner. When it came time to pay up, I only had a 100$ bill, and instead of telling me to deal with getting change myself ... the sweet Argentinian woman behind the bar told me to sit down while she walked down the street to get me change. The niceties only continue. When we finally made it to the restuarant, we realized that Laura´s phone was close to dead, and though we were a bit nervous about using our shotty Spanish to ask if we could please plug in our huge charger and phone to one of your outlets somewhere, we got nothing but smiles in response. Finally, after a delicious, dirt-cheap meal, we go to the bus station. We were cutting it a little close and the bus station is always confusing. After waiting in the wrong line a few minutes, someone, LUCKILY, just happened to notice our confusion, and pointed us exactly to our bus, which left maybe 45 seconds after we boarded.
The amount of people who have helped us for no reason on this trip has been incredible. The number of times we describe ourselves as "lucky" does not mean that we are not good travelers. Traveling is hard, and we get things right all the time. But everytime we have gotten something wrong, or had a wrinkle in our plans, someone with a smile has been there.
We realize just how much we are thankful for every single person who has helped us on the trip. People who stop us in the street, just because we are wearing backpacks, and ask us if they can be of assistance. We are also very thankful for the support from our friends and family at home ... who we miss and who we think about every single day.
Pictures of the fabulous sunset on the train from Buenos Aires, to Cordoba:
LOVE,
Jca
ps. marcus, I am clearly kicking the world in the booty. xoxo
So, Laura and I, non-spanish speakers, had planned to spend Thanksgiving in a city called Cordoba. The second largest city in Argentina (after BsAs), and really the Boston of Argentina as it is famous for its universities and student culture. Our Thanksgiving morning actually started off quite pleasantly ... we woke up on the roof of our accomodations. It was HOT in Cordoba ... in the 90s, and there was simply no air flow in our room, so Laura and I decided to drag the mattress to the roof, and slept soundly and comfortably. We woke up very leisurely on Thanksgiving morning. Our plan for the day involved going to a museum, baking a pecan pie, and then sharing the pie (in true Turkey Day spirit) with a fellow traveller who had offered us dinner and conversation about New Zealand. Upon returning to our room however, we were immediately greeted with some unpleasant news. An Argentine (who, thankfully, spoke Italian) told us that a major bus strike was imminent, and unless we wanted to stay the entire weekend in Cordoba, we had better get ourselves to the bus station. Laura and I did not want to miss the weekend in Mendoza with Katy and Susie, so we packed our packs, sweating profusely in the heat, and grabbed a cab to the bus terminal. Thankfully, the strike had not yet started, and we managed to find the perfect bus out of Cordoba to Mendoza leaving at 10pm that night. We were even able to get a good price on a "cama" bus fare, which means that your chair folds almost flat and is ideal for overnight sleeping.
We bought the ticket, thrilled at our luck of having found someone who spoke Italian, who realized that it might be a good idea to tell us of the impending strike, and then happy with having found the perfect ticket. But. Now what? It was just barely noon and we had an entire 10 hours to kill. We ate a "feast" of bread and cheese and apples and orange soda ... purchased from the very shady supermarket in the bus station. It was NOT the thanksgiving meal we were used to, but luckily, the cheap cheese turned out to be surprisingly good, and we were both full after the meal. Sometime soon after eating, we realized that we had probably sweated away the meal and 10 pounds more just sitting in the airless bus station. Luckily enough, there just so happened to be one of the most famous parks in the city only 2 blocks away and we decided to head there for napping and sunbathing.
So you know exactly what our Thanksgiving "feast" looked like:
2 blocks to a park never sounds like a lot ... untill it is 95 degrees, and you are carrying a 20 plus pound backpack. We crashed in the first shady spot we found. Turns out that the spot was "shady" for a number of reasons. We had been lying around for 10 minutes when a police officer came riding up to us on his cute little bike and looked at us like we were crazy ... he quickly figured out that we werent from the area (surprised!?) and began to speak very slowly so we would understand. We had been lying around in a sort of peligroso (danger danger!) area of the park, and he suggested we move. How lucky for us. The last thing we needed was to lose our entire packs, which conventiently contain our entire LIVES.We walked on, a little depressed at having to go on in the blistering heat, and wishing that we had cold water. The water in Laura´s bottle was actually close to boiling. LUCKILY, we managed to find the most beautiful rose garden, fenced in, abundant with shade. And would you believe that there was a COLD WATER fountain across the street? Just to make sure we were ok, our friendly police officer came back by on his bike and chatted us up for a few, being patient with our Italian/Spanish.
Around 8pm we decided to grab some dinner before getting on the bus. The restaurant we wanted wasnt open yet, so we went to a bar around the corner. When it came time to pay up, I only had a 100$ bill, and instead of telling me to deal with getting change myself ... the sweet Argentinian woman behind the bar told me to sit down while she walked down the street to get me change. The niceties only continue. When we finally made it to the restuarant, we realized that Laura´s phone was close to dead, and though we were a bit nervous about using our shotty Spanish to ask if we could please plug in our huge charger and phone to one of your outlets somewhere, we got nothing but smiles in response. Finally, after a delicious, dirt-cheap meal, we go to the bus station. We were cutting it a little close and the bus station is always confusing. After waiting in the wrong line a few minutes, someone, LUCKILY, just happened to notice our confusion, and pointed us exactly to our bus, which left maybe 45 seconds after we boarded.
The amount of people who have helped us for no reason on this trip has been incredible. The number of times we describe ourselves as "lucky" does not mean that we are not good travelers. Traveling is hard, and we get things right all the time. But everytime we have gotten something wrong, or had a wrinkle in our plans, someone with a smile has been there.
We realize just how much we are thankful for every single person who has helped us on the trip. People who stop us in the street, just because we are wearing backpacks, and ask us if they can be of assistance. We are also very thankful for the support from our friends and family at home ... who we miss and who we think about every single day.
Pictures of the fabulous sunset on the train from Buenos Aires, to Cordoba:
LOVE,
Jca
ps. marcus, I am clearly kicking the world in the booty. xoxo
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Cultural Immersion -- birthday edition by Laura
After ten days of toiling with the Krishnas we returned to Buenos Aires filled with youthful exhuberance and a desire to spend our days and nights in a sliiightly different manner from our time on the huerta. It is true that I have high expectations, yet I will freely admit that the three of us have been doing exceptional work keeping in line with the BsAs way of life. There have been, however, some casualities as all of a sudden, we are now really old...I was the last to succumb with today being my 23rd birthday. I am told memory is the first thing to go with old age, so I will begin the weekly recap with today. Dinner is being prepared to the sound of the Rolling Stones and is a symbolic culmination of our last few days spent in Belgrano -- an area of the city that is a bit quieter and residential, but will forever be known to us as CHINATOWN. For real, we found chinatown and it has served us right in every gastronomical aspect possible -- we not only found the first peanut butter that wasn't an 'import' (overpriced skippy) AND every type of spicy deliciousness possible. We have yet to emphasize our various challenges with the Argentine aversion for spice and our adoration of it. My salt addiction aside, we are all unaccustomed to garlic and black pepper being considered 'spicy'. Alas, for my birthday dinner tonight we are joining the forces of peanut butter and salsa picante to make dleicious Thai noodles (I am being told by the sous chef in the kitchen that it must be mentioned how delicious the smell is around us right now because a) they are cooking with ginger, mint, cilantro, and garlic b) they have talent c) it is springtime here and everything smells good). 
Our new Argentine friend, Juampi, examining his first experience with peanut butter and jelly
skeptical, yet satisfied!
Rosario´s attempt at curating a museum show...I know I sound pretensious but that is what my education earned me.
A face that only a mother (and her two best friends, and the world) could love
Looking sagacious (because I am now 23) in a tree that is far older and more impressive than I am
Jess being especially excited that we found Chinese 'pasta de mani'
Our new Argentine friend, Juampi, examining his first experience with peanut butter and jellyskeptical, yet satisfied!
Our culinary achievements aside, we have been engaging with the culture of Buenos Aires' past and present. We have been going to museums almost on the daily and have been putting our degrees to work (again) by discussing the artists, movements, and curatorial decisions made. The 'second most highly regarded fine arts museum of Argentina' is in Rosario and we enjoyed discussing the unique decision to add black shoe prints to the walls, the use of tattered and crooked wall labels, and hanging white paintings on white walls.
Rosario´s attempt at curating a museum show...I know I sound pretensious but that is what my education earned me.
Alternately, the 'most highly regarded fine arts museum of Argentina' here in BsAs had a great collection of Argentine and Latin American art spanning the last 500 years -- we especially enjoyed the contemporary art which lent itself to our better understanding of the local culture and how it differs from that which we are used to seeing in contemporary European and States art.
Two more ways in which we have embraced the Argentine culture is through lounging and dancing, and then dancing some more. Last week we went to a drum circle concert called 'la bomba del tiempo' that everyone (including us) from the States must tell their friends to go to, rightfully so, because we haven't heard so music English spoken since we began our travels. The concert was amazing although we were initially turned off by the idea of paying to go to a drum circle and being surrounded by hordes of dreadlocked kids and the wafting scent of patchouli. We danced and danced and then Jess and I joined in the all-male mosh pit finale because 1) we were the only girls big enough not to be mauled 2) girls that aren´t from the States just don't act like that. It was exhilirating and we emerged triumphant with raspy voices and dirty feet as our only casualities. On Jess' birthday we went to an 'after-office' party which are particularly popular on Wednesday nights and are the perfect place to go if you are interested in having middle aged men in suits breathily whispering sweet nothings on your neck and carressing your hair as you walk by. Needless to say, we soldiered on and danced, danced, danced.
For the weekend we headed West a few hours to Rosario -- a city often preferred over Buenos Aires for its slower pace of life and more manageable size; it is also home to the Stalin-esque monument to the national flag, which was undeniably impressive. Rosario is also well-known as it is situated next to the Rio Parana where we did much lounging in parks and on the beach (just for the cultural immersion, of course). The beach was really beautiful as it sits on the periphery of an undeveloped island on the opposite side of the river as the city. While in Rosario we danced (noticing a trend?), continued to observe that youth culture is pretty much the same regardless of country, and empanadas are easy to make and delicious to eat.
I will abruptly end this posting as we have actually already eaten our delicious dinner and must continue on with our exhilirating lifestyles!
A face that only a mother (and her two best friends, and the world) could love
Looking sagacious (because I am now 23) in a tree that is far older and more impressive than I am
Just before the birthday dinner!
for Marcus: jca 30 world 8!
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Oh, Sweet Dirt! By: Katy Jane
(Here is a picture of us and Edith in the bus station leaving Florianopolis. We've been unable to upload photos until now.)
First of all, today is Jess's birthday. She is 23, which oficially makes her a nonna like me. Soon, I will become a bisnonna, but that's not for a few months, so we'll cross that bridge when we get there.
Secondly, Obama won!!! We cried and cried and cried and even sobbed a little bit as Fox read us his acceptance speech from her Blackberry as we toiled in the fields under the hot Argentine sun. We're super excited and hope that he makes good on all his promises/ambitions.
Third, we have recently arrived back in Buenos Aires after nearly two weeks of working on an organic farm a few hours northwest of Buenos Aires. With some Hare Krishna's. Ideally, we hope to write a novella chronicling our time at Nueva Vrindana, but we'll give y'all a little taste of what we we've been up to for the last little bit.
We found the farm through a work exchnage program called WWOOF, Willing Workers on Organic Farms. The way the program works is that you buy this cheap booklet over the internet that lists, by country, a bunch of organic farms that want workers. Then you choose which farm you want to go to (some are dairy farms, some are fruit farms, some are vineyards) and then you write to them, tell them when you want to come, and then you get invited and then you go. And then you work. For eight hours a day. Under the sun. In a field. The reason we decided to do this is that in addition a desire to learn about organic farming, WWOOFing is a work exchange program, which means we work in exchange for room and board, i.e. it's free.
So, we decided to farm just outside of Buenos Aires, for proximity reasons, where there were only two farms (both run by radical relicious groups), one by Hare Krishna's and the other by a group called The 12 Tribes. We chose the Krishnas, and made our way our of BA by train, bus, and taxi out to their place. We arrived to find Sol, who ended up being our mama, but didn't speak any English, and she showed us to a little thatched roof casita, which was to be our home for the next few days. Almost immediatly, but only after a delicious vegetarian meal made by Mama Sol, we got to working in the huerta (vegatable garden). And thus began the toiling.
Our duties on the huerta seem pretty standard: desjujando (weeding); ponendo la aqua (watering), cubierto (mulch), y compost (compost); transplantando (transplanting); hacemos heramientos y cartillos (used farms tools and wheel barrows); y apremdemos algo de Castellano (learned some Spanish). Laura, who has never had any Spanish instruction, has put her Italian to use, picked up some key words, and will be soon be able to get by quite nicely in Spanish.
So we worked for four hours in the morning, siesta-ed four hours through the hot part of the day, and then worked for four more hours in the evening. Second to our routine of working and napping was our constant speculation about Krishna life, farm life, and how the two related. We like to think of our near constant specualtion as making good use of our liberal arts degrees, ie, we theorize about a situation, observe said situation, and put together the empirical data to draw some sort of decisive, and credible, conclusion. We win! In such a manner, we were able to answer all our own questions about life at Nuevo Vrindana. For example, why don't the toilets flush/where's the hot water? Is this a monastery, a farm, or a resort? What do the pretty virgins do all day and who are they texting? Is that really Hare Krishna themed rap music we hear? Isn't the food supposed to be delicious? Why are the sunsets so good here? Do they hate us, or just not speak English very well? What is the difference between the biointensive, biodiverse, and permaculture styles of farming? How does one sucessfully herd two large oxen from one space to the next without ruining the nearby playground? Why are puppies SO cute? Why are these Hare Krishnas so different than the ones we've come across in the US?
All of these questions were asked and some answered. Over the two weeks, we were forced to reconsider alot of our judgments, reconfigure our boundries, and reassess many things we thad hitherto taken for granted. One such example is cleanliness. As you might imagine, life on a farm isn't so clean. Life on a farm where you garden in bare feet and there is no soap in the bathrooms is dirty. Life on a farm where the water is sometimes cut off for no reason and you have to flush the toilet with a bucket of water is so far beyond what we generally accept as 'pleasantly rustic' that it actually made me cry one night. Our experience on the farm was not always easy, and we all had low moments where we cursed the farm, cursed the Krishnas, cursed the trip, and cursed our filthy dirty finger nails. Soon after, however, the Krishnas would make us some delicious juice, Sol would take us to her house to play with the 7 darling puppies her dog has just had, and we would sit on the porch of our little casita and watch the fireflies come to life over the garden with such vigor that the sight was like flying into New York City at night - a hundred thousand dancing lights blinking on and off.
Paradox marked our time on the farm, which can be summed up in two words: sweet dirt. When it came time to leave, we were both sad and ready. We learned a ton about biointensive farming, a system where ones puts the most amount of vegatables in the least amount of space to make optimal use of soil and water. We met the neighbors who have a dairy farm and fed us a delicious dinner of pizza with fresh cheese. We learned about Bahkti (devotional) yoga, mud ovens, Krishna-style vegetarian cooking (which, unfortunately, was not exaclty what we ate), some about the philosophical differences between Eastern and Western thought (in the West, we're obsessed with physical matter whereas in the East they are obsessed with consiousness), and of the breadth and variety of Hare Krishna themed music (rap, techno, singer-songwriter, indie, chanting). Also, and often in the forfront of our experience, the ever apparent differences between Northern and Southern American attidtudes on buisness/money management (we don't yet get the system here).
And now, for some pictures!
Here is the thatched roof casita where we lived, napped, and engaged with the local wildlife (ie, flies and mosquitoes, and other unmentionable things that rhyme with smockroaches).
Here we are with our Mama Sol on the last day. Notice our greasy, rugged complexions. We are obviously real farmers now.
Here we are watching the beautiful sunset.
Here we are driving into town ... in the back of a hippie VW van mixed in among the vegetables.
Happy and healthy
More evidence of the beautiful farm ... complete with a shot of the Hare Krsna temple.
Jess and Katy toiling in the huerta.
farm life! complete with oxen.
And so goes the trip. More later. We apologize for the delay in posting, but have obviously been away from the internet for a while. We hope everyone at home is well and we love and miss you all. So be in touch! We're in BA for a few more days and then head north to Rosario for the weekend.
Love and hugs and kisses,
j, k, l
ps. for Marcus, us 23, world 7
First of all, today is Jess's birthday. She is 23, which oficially makes her a nonna like me. Soon, I will become a bisnonna, but that's not for a few months, so we'll cross that bridge when we get there.
Secondly, Obama won!!! We cried and cried and cried and even sobbed a little bit as Fox read us his acceptance speech from her Blackberry as we toiled in the fields under the hot Argentine sun. We're super excited and hope that he makes good on all his promises/ambitions.
Third, we have recently arrived back in Buenos Aires after nearly two weeks of working on an organic farm a few hours northwest of Buenos Aires. With some Hare Krishna's. Ideally, we hope to write a novella chronicling our time at Nueva Vrindana, but we'll give y'all a little taste of what we we've been up to for the last little bit.
We found the farm through a work exchnage program called WWOOF, Willing Workers on Organic Farms. The way the program works is that you buy this cheap booklet over the internet that lists, by country, a bunch of organic farms that want workers. Then you choose which farm you want to go to (some are dairy farms, some are fruit farms, some are vineyards) and then you write to them, tell them when you want to come, and then you get invited and then you go. And then you work. For eight hours a day. Under the sun. In a field. The reason we decided to do this is that in addition a desire to learn about organic farming, WWOOFing is a work exchange program, which means we work in exchange for room and board, i.e. it's free.
So, we decided to farm just outside of Buenos Aires, for proximity reasons, where there were only two farms (both run by radical relicious groups), one by Hare Krishna's and the other by a group called The 12 Tribes. We chose the Krishnas, and made our way our of BA by train, bus, and taxi out to their place. We arrived to find Sol, who ended up being our mama, but didn't speak any English, and she showed us to a little thatched roof casita, which was to be our home for the next few days. Almost immediatly, but only after a delicious vegetarian meal made by Mama Sol, we got to working in the huerta (vegatable garden). And thus began the toiling.
Our duties on the huerta seem pretty standard: desjujando (weeding); ponendo la aqua (watering), cubierto (mulch), y compost (compost); transplantando (transplanting); hacemos heramientos y cartillos (used farms tools and wheel barrows); y apremdemos algo de Castellano (learned some Spanish). Laura, who has never had any Spanish instruction, has put her Italian to use, picked up some key words, and will be soon be able to get by quite nicely in Spanish.
So we worked for four hours in the morning, siesta-ed four hours through the hot part of the day, and then worked for four more hours in the evening. Second to our routine of working and napping was our constant speculation about Krishna life, farm life, and how the two related. We like to think of our near constant specualtion as making good use of our liberal arts degrees, ie, we theorize about a situation, observe said situation, and put together the empirical data to draw some sort of decisive, and credible, conclusion. We win! In such a manner, we were able to answer all our own questions about life at Nuevo Vrindana. For example, why don't the toilets flush/where's the hot water? Is this a monastery, a farm, or a resort? What do the pretty virgins do all day and who are they texting? Is that really Hare Krishna themed rap music we hear? Isn't the food supposed to be delicious? Why are the sunsets so good here? Do they hate us, or just not speak English very well? What is the difference between the biointensive, biodiverse, and permaculture styles of farming? How does one sucessfully herd two large oxen from one space to the next without ruining the nearby playground? Why are puppies SO cute? Why are these Hare Krishnas so different than the ones we've come across in the US?
All of these questions were asked and some answered. Over the two weeks, we were forced to reconsider alot of our judgments, reconfigure our boundries, and reassess many things we thad hitherto taken for granted. One such example is cleanliness. As you might imagine, life on a farm isn't so clean. Life on a farm where you garden in bare feet and there is no soap in the bathrooms is dirty. Life on a farm where the water is sometimes cut off for no reason and you have to flush the toilet with a bucket of water is so far beyond what we generally accept as 'pleasantly rustic' that it actually made me cry one night. Our experience on the farm was not always easy, and we all had low moments where we cursed the farm, cursed the Krishnas, cursed the trip, and cursed our filthy dirty finger nails. Soon after, however, the Krishnas would make us some delicious juice, Sol would take us to her house to play with the 7 darling puppies her dog has just had, and we would sit on the porch of our little casita and watch the fireflies come to life over the garden with such vigor that the sight was like flying into New York City at night - a hundred thousand dancing lights blinking on and off.
Paradox marked our time on the farm, which can be summed up in two words: sweet dirt. When it came time to leave, we were both sad and ready. We learned a ton about biointensive farming, a system where ones puts the most amount of vegatables in the least amount of space to make optimal use of soil and water. We met the neighbors who have a dairy farm and fed us a delicious dinner of pizza with fresh cheese. We learned about Bahkti (devotional) yoga, mud ovens, Krishna-style vegetarian cooking (which, unfortunately, was not exaclty what we ate), some about the philosophical differences between Eastern and Western thought (in the West, we're obsessed with physical matter whereas in the East they are obsessed with consiousness), and of the breadth and variety of Hare Krishna themed music (rap, techno, singer-songwriter, indie, chanting). Also, and often in the forfront of our experience, the ever apparent differences between Northern and Southern American attidtudes on buisness/money management (we don't yet get the system here).
And now, for some pictures!
Here is the thatched roof casita where we lived, napped, and engaged with the local wildlife (ie, flies and mosquitoes, and other unmentionable things that rhyme with smockroaches).
Here we are with our Mama Sol on the last day. Notice our greasy, rugged complexions. We are obviously real farmers now.
Here we are watching the beautiful sunset.
Here we are driving into town ... in the back of a hippie VW van mixed in among the vegetables.
Happy and healthy
More evidence of the beautiful farm ... complete with a shot of the Hare Krsna temple.
Jess and Katy toiling in the huerta.
farm life! complete with oxen.
And so goes the trip. More later. We apologize for the delay in posting, but have obviously been away from the internet for a while. We hope everyone at home is well and we love and miss you all. So be in touch! We're in BA for a few more days and then head north to Rosario for the weekend.
Love and hugs and kisses,
j, k, l
ps. for Marcus, us 23, world 7
Thursday, October 30, 2008
are you my mommy? by Laura
A successful tactic that we have established on our travels thus far is to cling to a mother figure during the more complicated and/or illogical maneuvers of life. Nasayers may think that this re-establishes our status as novice travelers, but , oh no, it is instead surely the sign of the savvy and efficient backpacker (with our packs this heavy, we cannot afford too many missteps). So in Floripa Edith made our experience not only memorable but possible in many ways, then on the not-so-easy border crossing between Brazil and Argentina another mother figure emerged in a worldly, post-military Israeli woman, and finally an Aussie on our bus into Buenos Aires helped to orient us in this very new city, although he was our age and a male, his mother-like actions were greatly appreciated. This computer is creating issues so the photos, map update, and a high quality post must be suspended for the time being. Today we leave Buenos Aires, of which we have gotten just the smallest taste, to go farming for two weeks at a permaculture farm on the outskirts of this fine city -- we are unsure of the accomodations and thus may be incommunicado for a while, but once we have the chance, we will let you all know what permaculture is, as we are equally curious.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
And So Begins Week Two! By: Katy Jane
Today marks not only the 14th day of our trip, but also the birth of Katie Bunny (a new nickname for Katie CA Katie, in order to differentiate her from me, Katy Jane). This morning we arrived in Buenos Aires via overnight bus from Puerto Iguazu. We are staying in a nice hotel for the occasion, plan to go out for dinner, and might even be putting on a little make up. We are joined here by Katie Bunny´s friend Justin, who has also been traveling around South America.
So much has happened since the last post, I´m not even sure where to begin the update! We spent a bit more time in Florianopolis after the last post, the highlights of which were meeting some very fun Brazilian frat boys, hearing an awesome DJ at an awesome club, and meeting our Brazilian grandma, Edith. Florianopolis is a city on an island called Santa Catarina, and has some of the best beaches in Brazil. The boys we met took us to one of them, and it was gorgeous, in spite of the fog and drizzle (which has been following us around until recently). Despite being unable to surf or sun bathe but we were glad to be in a nice, low key beach town.
On our second or third day in Floripa (which is what the locals call Florianopolis), we were at the grocery store shopping for our dinner, when we realized that we were getting side ways looks from an older lady, dressed all in blue. Oh no, we thought. We´re being the loud americans taking up all the space in the vegatable aisle, and we´re making this woman very, very angry. As we go to move and mumble apologies in Portuguese, we hear (with a slight southern twang), "Oh don´t wory about it girls, I´m just interested in hearing you speak English." This is how we met Edith, a smart, savy, worldly, generous and endlessly intersting woman who brought us a ton of sunshine in the middle of a literal rainstorm. In the veggie section, Editth told us of her education, and we of ours. Born in Brazil, but educated in the states, Edith came back to Brazil with a degres in Thanatology (the study of Grief) and a vision to start a church and eventually to open a home for the eldery. Towards the end of our grocery store discussion with Edith, after exchanging hugs and condensed life stories, we were invited to said home for lunch the next day.
Fast forward a bit, Edith picks us up and gives us a little tour of Floripa and takes us to the nursing home, where we are introduced to a ton of lovely, older Brazilians. We eat lunch with Edith and her friend Georgia, an America who followed her destiny, and her husband, to Brazil over forty years before. Lunch was great! Georgia told us all about her world travels, and we shared our travel plans with her. Edith intoduced us to all of her friends at the nursing home, all of whom were so excited to talk and include us in not only lunch, but also their city and to some extent, their lives.
After lunch, Edith invited us back to see her home, a gorgeous converted Azurean cabin (From the Azores, the islands of Portugal. Many came to Brazil and built these funny, sturdy little homes with no windows. Edith and her husband fixed theirs up and put in a TON of windows). We talked about politics in the US and Brazil, travel, Edith´s and her husbands work as missionaries, and ate delicious coffee flavored candies. We were so lucky to be able to sit around a darling living room and talk with smart, eloquent grownups with excelent opinions and wonderful insight. It was very refreshing after the frat boys, and reassuring in general that there are exceptional people in the world that the universe sometimes throws in one´s path. All day we spent with Edith, I kept säying "oh, we´re just the luckiest girls in the wholeworld. " And we are. Aswe finished out political discussion, and Georgia left to go home, Edtih offered not only to take us back to where we were staying, but insisted that we bring our laundry (now soaked after having been left out to dry.. in the rain) back to her house and use her dryer. The sggestion of which made us cry. Actually. There were tears in our eyes! How could someone be so graciosu and kind to 4 strangers! This was a lesson for us all to learn in pay-it-forward, and as Edith drid our wet clothes, she brought out a schmorgasboard of tea, and cookies, and hot choolate, and meat and cheese. And then we really were the luckiest girls in the world.
This serendipitious tea party marked the end out our time in Floripa. Edith helped us call the bus station to make arrangments to get to Iguazu Falls AND THEN she took us to the bus station after having made us a snack pack for the 14 hours overnight bus. Meeting and then leaving Edith were two of the happiest and saddest moments to far on the trip for us collectively. We had more adventures in Floripa, including an epic night at a night club (got in for free, danced all night, met the mayor, got into the VIP section, made some nice funny friends), but encounterng Edith really trumped evertying, in terms of life expereince.
Oh, I just realized I am short on time. We have some museum exploring to do today in Buenos Aires, so I will have to end this post here. We areall happy and healthy and so so so excited to be in the land of yerba mate, delicious breakfast croissants, and the best dulce de leche ever. I apologize for my spelling and typing errors - there is no spell check and I also can´t go back and edit for some reason, so all my mistakes have to stay. Please don´t thinkthat my four years of ocllege are in vain! Hope everyone is well well well!
Love and hugs and kisses,
j,k,k,l, and j
ps for marcus - world 4,us 10
Friday, October 24, 2008
Life Lessons Atop Death Mountain By: Jess
Hello and Ciao to all.
This post has been a long time coming, but for a good portion of the last week we were sitting on buses, shuttling around Brazil. Buses here are actually quite nice - makes Greyhound look like traveling via dumpster.
Our last blog was from Rio de Janeiro the night before the epic party that was supposedly going to happen right outside the door of our hostel. The people at the hostel were not exaggerating. Literally RIGHT outside the hostel doors were probably 2000 people mingling and dancing and eating and drinking and just generally having a good time. They know how to party in Rio.
There was a group of guys on drums and a big dance circle formed around them. I am proud to say that I was the first of our group to jump in on the dancing, and I managed to pull the rest of the girls behind me. We also met two very nice British boys (John and John) , who joined in on the fun and served as excellent bodyguards throughout the night.
I think the cultural highlight of the time spent in Rio was seeing an art project called THE GREAT MADNESS. An artist decided to decorate a staircase with pieces of tile from all around the world. It is very much a living piece of art, because people send the artist tiles and he works them into the stairs. I found a tile from Los Angeles, Katy found one from Texas. Most of the countries from around the world were represented. I thought that the stairs looked familiar and it was driving me crazy where I had seen them before. We walked all the way up the stairs, and on the way down met the artist himself. My mystery deja-vu was solved when he showed us pictured of Snoop Dogg and Pharrell rapping on the stairs, and I remembered the scene from a music video.
I am proud to say that since then we have managed to make it most of the way across the country moving South and have seen two more Brazilian cities. After Rio we took a bus and then boat to the small island of Ilha Grande. The island is so small, there are no cars allowed and boats are the main form of transportation. Now, when Laura Fox (whom I love dearly) initially suggested visiting this quaint island, she mentioned that the main form of activity was "walking" to various beaches around the island. Me, the girl from LA, pictured a 15 minute walk through the sand, letting the waves spalsh on our feet, and then multiple hours of relaxing on the sand with bottles of beer, followed by a walk back to our hostel while watching the sunset.
Well. First of all the weather was not that great when we got to the island. It was misty and foggy and pouring rain, and anyone who knows me also knows that this is not ideal Jess weather, to say the least. Given the weather, I assumed that the plans for the walk and beach would be scrapped, and instead I could look forward to a day spent sleeping in and reading my Che Guevara. Imagine my surprise when Fox jumped out of bed at 8 AM and after a quick breakfast suggested that we get started on our day. We managed to talk her into a few more hours of sleep, but around 1030 she was suggesting activity again. It was decided that the weather was perfect for "trekking."
I would like to take a pause and again emphasize that I am from Los Angeles, CA. I do not use the word "trekking." Ever. Walking up the street to the Coffee Bean near my house is a pretty intense experience in the land of LA where most people would hop in their cars to drive up the block. I would also like to add that though I do a lot of yoga and consider myself fit, I am nowhere near the rowing, lifting weights, running and erging for miles machine that is the wonderful Laura Fox. I also had a serious injury in highschool that limits my ability to run, climb, jump, etc.
So here I am, wearing my brand-new, shiny "trekking" sandals, excited about the possibility of completing such a "trek" early on a misty, rainy morning in Ilha Grande, blindly following my leaders like a lemming. It became clear to me 10 minutes into this experience that perhaps, I was in over my head. The hills were steep and slippery. I was covered in mud and unidentifiable green gunk. I was hot and sweaty until the wind started blowing, then I was freezing. The entire purpose of the trek was to reach a waterfall that everyone on the island had told us was wonderful and worth the walk. After an hour or so of painful toiling, we reached a fork in the road. One arrow pointed up an almost sheer cliff and said "cachoeira" meaning waterfall. The other arrow pointed downhill and said "praia" meaning beach. To her credit, Laura did turn around and ask me if I was ok. In an effort not to be the loser I assured here that I could get up the hill, but it would take me twice as long to get down. We climbed up. I mean REAL climbing - like grasping at roots, scraping your knees, digging your fingernails into the mud for dear life, climbing. We made it to the top of what we dubbed Death Mountain. After continuing maybe another half hour we found the waterfall and after leaving the waterfall the immensity of the problem of getting down became real. It was getting later in the afternoon and the mist was rolling and the air was more damp. My calves were still quivering from the climb up. I was thirsty and hungry and tired. I tentatively took a step down Death Mountain, and nearly toppled over. It was just too steep and I was too top-heavy and it just wasn´t going to happen. But the girls encouraged me, so I decided to turn around and go rump-first down the mountain (feel free to insert any other word to substitute for rump, we already have and trust me the pictures are priceless but they are on a different camera without a proper USB cord unfortch). Things got worse before they got better. There was a moment when I was grabbing a vine with one hand, digging my hand into the ground with the other hand, stepping very close to a hole with TONS of spiders going in and out with one foot and blindly dangling my other foot backward down the slippery side of Death Mountain, there was this moment when I thought that the easier option would be to stay in the jungle forever, build myself a little hut, and eat berries for the rest of my life. But no. Laura Fox stayed no further than 3 feet away from me at all times. And every time I let out an expletive in pure terror, she said something encouraging. If it took 30 minutes to climb up Death Mountain, it took close to an hour to climb down Death Mountain. But, I did it. My parents and no one who knows me will ever believe it, but I really did it. And though I could hardly move the rest of the night, the experience was incredible. The views were amazing. I did some yoga moves on the very top of the waterfall. We saw monkeys, birds, and the tallest bamboo ever. The experience was so positive overall that I told Laura Fox she could force me into one near death "trekking" experience ever two months.
After leaving Ilha Grande (right when the sun came out) we rode buses FOREVER and overnight and got to Florianopolis, Brazil. Personally it reminds me of home. It is a very lively beach town (actually on an island) and the people are all laid back and friendly. We met a fun group of Brazilian boys and they promise to show us the nightlife. We also made friends with a 78 year old woman in the grocery store named Edith who was born in Brazil, raised in Virginia and Oklahoma and moved back to Brazil after college. She has invited us for lunch on Saturday and we are very much loo9king forward to it.
We will leave Sunday-ish for Iguassu Falls, and then bid Brazil goodbye for Agentina.
Hugs and kisses to all.
PS. For Marcus - JCA 7, WORLD 3 - i'm winning!
PSS. Perhaps we should be contacting our manager first, but we would like to pitch our idea to you for a reality game show inspired by the kitchen at our hostel on Ilha Grande. It will be referred to from here on out as "Apokatchen" due to its post-Apocalyptic amenities, ambiance, stench, and overall appearance (please reference photos below). So in this game show, teams will be assigned to a kitchen in such a style as this and will be forced to buy cooking supplies at a local market that consists mainly of mystery foods in a foreign language while only spending roughly 2 US dollars per team member to cook a nutritious, delicious, and filling meal. This game show would clearly pit teams against each other to create the best and most frugal meal possible while keeping their supplies from contracting any air-borne illnesses due to the preceding nuclear fall out. The show will clearly be most riveting when team members turn on each other while buckling under the pressures of accidentally purchasing the salted, rotting, unpackaged meat that is so alluring and omnipresent in Brazilian supermarkets when that weeks challenge was clearly to make a vegan stir fry! Alas, we are hoping to make enough money from this show idea to finance us staying at places not like this -- any takers? -- Laura
This post has been a long time coming, but for a good portion of the last week we were sitting on buses, shuttling around Brazil. Buses here are actually quite nice - makes Greyhound look like traveling via dumpster.
Our last blog was from Rio de Janeiro the night before the epic party that was supposedly going to happen right outside the door of our hostel. The people at the hostel were not exaggerating. Literally RIGHT outside the hostel doors were probably 2000 people mingling and dancing and eating and drinking and just generally having a good time. They know how to party in Rio.
There was a group of guys on drums and a big dance circle formed around them. I am proud to say that I was the first of our group to jump in on the dancing, and I managed to pull the rest of the girls behind me. We also met two very nice British boys (John and John) , who joined in on the fun and served as excellent bodyguards throughout the night.
I think the cultural highlight of the time spent in Rio was seeing an art project called THE GREAT MADNESS. An artist decided to decorate a staircase with pieces of tile from all around the world. It is very much a living piece of art, because people send the artist tiles and he works them into the stairs. I found a tile from Los Angeles, Katy found one from Texas. Most of the countries from around the world were represented. I thought that the stairs looked familiar and it was driving me crazy where I had seen them before. We walked all the way up the stairs, and on the way down met the artist himself. My mystery deja-vu was solved when he showed us pictured of Snoop Dogg and Pharrell rapping on the stairs, and I remembered the scene from a music video.I am proud to say that since then we have managed to make it most of the way across the country moving South and have seen two more Brazilian cities. After Rio we took a bus and then boat to the small island of Ilha Grande. The island is so small, there are no cars allowed and boats are the main form of transportation. Now, when Laura Fox (whom I love dearly) initially suggested visiting this quaint island, she mentioned that the main form of activity was "walking" to various beaches around the island. Me, the girl from LA, pictured a 15 minute walk through the sand, letting the waves spalsh on our feet, and then multiple hours of relaxing on the sand with bottles of beer, followed by a walk back to our hostel while watching the sunset.
Well. First of all the weather was not that great when we got to the island. It was misty and foggy and pouring rain, and anyone who knows me also knows that this is not ideal Jess weather, to say the least. Given the weather, I assumed that the plans for the walk and beach would be scrapped, and instead I could look forward to a day spent sleeping in and reading my Che Guevara. Imagine my surprise when Fox jumped out of bed at 8 AM and after a quick breakfast suggested that we get started on our day. We managed to talk her into a few more hours of sleep, but around 1030 she was suggesting activity again. It was decided that the weather was perfect for "trekking."
I would like to take a pause and again emphasize that I am from Los Angeles, CA. I do not use the word "trekking." Ever. Walking up the street to the Coffee Bean near my house is a pretty intense experience in the land of LA where most people would hop in their cars to drive up the block. I would also like to add that though I do a lot of yoga and consider myself fit, I am nowhere near the rowing, lifting weights, running and erging for miles machine that is the wonderful Laura Fox. I also had a serious injury in highschool that limits my ability to run, climb, jump, etc.
So here I am, wearing my brand-new, shiny "trekking" sandals, excited about the possibility of completing such a "trek" early on a misty, rainy morning in Ilha Grande, blindly following my leaders like a lemming. It became clear to me 10 minutes into this experience that perhaps, I was in over my head. The hills were steep and slippery. I was covered in mud and unidentifiable green gunk. I was hot and sweaty until the wind started blowing, then I was freezing. The entire purpose of the trek was to reach a waterfall that everyone on the island had told us was wonderful and worth the walk. After an hour or so of painful toiling, we reached a fork in the road. One arrow pointed up an almost sheer cliff and said "cachoeira" meaning waterfall. The other arrow pointed downhill and said "praia" meaning beach. To her credit, Laura did turn around and ask me if I was ok. In an effort not to be the loser I assured here that I could get up the hill, but it would take me twice as long to get down. We climbed up. I mean REAL climbing - like grasping at roots, scraping your knees, digging your fingernails into the mud for dear life, climbing. We made it to the top of what we dubbed Death Mountain. After continuing maybe another half hour we found the waterfall and after leaving the waterfall the immensity of the problem of getting down became real. It was getting later in the afternoon and the mist was rolling and the air was more damp. My calves were still quivering from the climb up. I was thirsty and hungry and tired. I tentatively took a step down Death Mountain, and nearly toppled over. It was just too steep and I was too top-heavy and it just wasn´t going to happen. But the girls encouraged me, so I decided to turn around and go rump-first down the mountain (feel free to insert any other word to substitute for rump, we already have and trust me the pictures are priceless but they are on a different camera without a proper USB cord unfortch). Things got worse before they got better. There was a moment when I was grabbing a vine with one hand, digging my hand into the ground with the other hand, stepping very close to a hole with TONS of spiders going in and out with one foot and blindly dangling my other foot backward down the slippery side of Death Mountain, there was this moment when I thought that the easier option would be to stay in the jungle forever, build myself a little hut, and eat berries for the rest of my life. But no. Laura Fox stayed no further than 3 feet away from me at all times. And every time I let out an expletive in pure terror, she said something encouraging. If it took 30 minutes to climb up Death Mountain, it took close to an hour to climb down Death Mountain. But, I did it. My parents and no one who knows me will ever believe it, but I really did it. And though I could hardly move the rest of the night, the experience was incredible. The views were amazing. I did some yoga moves on the very top of the waterfall. We saw monkeys, birds, and the tallest bamboo ever. The experience was so positive overall that I told Laura Fox she could force me into one near death "trekking" experience ever two months.
After leaving Ilha Grande (right when the sun came out) we rode buses FOREVER and overnight and got to Florianopolis, Brazil. Personally it reminds me of home. It is a very lively beach town (actually on an island) and the people are all laid back and friendly. We met a fun group of Brazilian boys and they promise to show us the nightlife. We also made friends with a 78 year old woman in the grocery store named Edith who was born in Brazil, raised in Virginia and Oklahoma and moved back to Brazil after college. She has invited us for lunch on Saturday and we are very much loo9king forward to it.We will leave Sunday-ish for Iguassu Falls, and then bid Brazil goodbye for Agentina.
Hugs and kisses to all.
PS. For Marcus - JCA 7, WORLD 3 - i'm winning!
PSS. Perhaps we should be contacting our manager first, but we would like to pitch our idea to you for a reality game show inspired by the kitchen at our hostel on Ilha Grande. It will be referred to from here on out as "Apokatchen" due to its post-Apocalyptic amenities, ambiance, stench, and overall appearance (please reference photos below). So in this game show, teams will be assigned to a kitchen in such a style as this and will be forced to buy cooking supplies at a local market that consists mainly of mystery foods in a foreign language while only spending roughly 2 US dollars per team member to cook a nutritious, delicious, and filling meal. This game show would clearly pit teams against each other to create the best and most frugal meal possible while keeping their supplies from contracting any air-borne illnesses due to the preceding nuclear fall out. The show will clearly be most riveting when team members turn on each other while buckling under the pressures of accidentally purchasing the salted, rotting, unpackaged meat that is so alluring and omnipresent in Brazilian supermarkets when that weeks challenge was clearly to make a vegan stir fry! Alas, we are hoping to make enough money from this show idea to finance us staying at places not like this -- any takers? -- Laura
Friday, October 17, 2008
actually here!
Yes, we have really started our adventures! we are on our third or fourth day of travel, depending who you ask, and thus far the count of world versus us is in our favor. Being here is surreal-- because the travels have truly happened but also because Rio de Janeiro is like nothing we have collectively known before. It has the touches and tastes of Miami, Italy, Mexico, etc but it is a singularly unique place. The people could not be more friendly -- very willing to help and respond to our mix of Spanish, Italian, and hand gestures. The landscape is beautiful with great beaches and little islands and jutting hills covered in rain forests.
We spent our first two nights on the beach trying to create a bit more of a vision for our time in Brazil and also enjoying the quieter beach neighborhood of Ipanema/Leblon, but today we have haphazardly decided to jump in head-first to Brazilian night life. Our hostel tonight is in Lapa which is in this funny quasi-gentrified neighborhood with decrepit art nouveau buildings directly next to the most unique looking church ever (we spent hours looking for the cathedral and discovered that it was the funny coned shape building just a few blocks away from our hostel -- it is shaped like a ziggarut and is very tall and imposing but inside it is dark and very reflective with brilliantly colored stained glass windows that rose the length of the interior) and filled with people from all different walks of life. So the big event tonight is an outdoor party that may reach 15,000 people, certainly a legitimate form of cultural immersion! There will surely be much to report on. Until then, Laura et al
PS -- we found Jesus yesterday! He is made of reinforced concrete and sits atop the tallest point in Rio
We spent our first two nights on the beach trying to create a bit more of a vision for our time in Brazil and also enjoying the quieter beach neighborhood of Ipanema/Leblon, but today we have haphazardly decided to jump in head-first to Brazilian night life. Our hostel tonight is in Lapa which is in this funny quasi-gentrified neighborhood with decrepit art nouveau buildings directly next to the most unique looking church ever (we spent hours looking for the cathedral and discovered that it was the funny coned shape building just a few blocks away from our hostel -- it is shaped like a ziggarut and is very tall and imposing but inside it is dark and very reflective with brilliantly colored stained glass windows that rose the length of the interior) and filled with people from all different walks of life. So the big event tonight is an outdoor party that may reach 15,000 people, certainly a legitimate form of cultural immersion! There will surely be much to report on. Until then, Laura et al
PS -- we found Jesus yesterday! He is made of reinforced concrete and sits atop the tallest point in Rio
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Field Test: Light Saber aka SteriPen By: Katy
As seen in the last post, Jess came to visit me in Texas this past week. We did a lot of list making, trouble shooting, stressing/crying in inappropriate places, and adventure gear shopping. We also watched some cinematic gems, including Hugh Grant's stunning performance in About a Boy. Let me assure you - it was life changing! Also life changing, I filled up my backpack with a test run of the clothes I'm planning to bring and strapped it on and really looked like a for real traveler. Jess and I got all excited, jumped up and down and then promptly got really anxious. We also ate a TON of cheese and made some giant cookies. Good times...
I think the conceptual highlight (well, maybe most considered and perhaps belabored issue) of the week will be the focus of this post. It came to our attention this week that we, Jess, Fox, and I, are not totally invincible 20-somethings with stomachs of steel and super intestines to enable us utter gastric safety during the course of our travels in developing countries. The issue of water purification became paramount. After much internet research and discussion with the dudes at REI, Jess and I decided to forgo both filtration and chemical sterilization (we though bulk, bad taste, and the need for extra filters were all cons). We decided on a UV water purifier called the SteriPen, here after known as "the Light Saber," this little UV light gadget that you stick in any clearish water and turn on. In 90 seconds, it zaps all the creepy crawlies and then you can drink it and it works wonders.
Sounds like magic, huh? Too good to be true? In spite of our recent mortal revelations, Jess and I could not quash our ideas of invincibility and decided to temp a) fate, b) the warranty of our Light Saber, and c) our own constitution by promptly deciding to zap and drink a liter of purified lake water. The pictures and a video follow:
Here is Jess's newly purchased water bottle... and the lake.
This is my newly purchase water bottle (notice how they match..cute!) freshly filled with lake water (see the lake?). Note my feet in the water. And the dock. And the lovely tinge of the LAKE WATER we're about to consume... In addition to the fish that poop in this lake, my mom and her triathlete friends train/sweat/spit in it on a daily basis. YUM!
After an interlude in which we couldn't find any batteries AND learned of the potential stock market crash, Jess and I can finally use the Light Saber. Here, Jess is looking skeptical and/or idealistic.
MAGIC KILLS GERMS!!!11!11!
Here Jess just looks skeptical...
And here is the video of Jess making ME drink the water.
So, it tasted like lake water. It made Jess's teeth feel gross. It made my stomach all gurgly. I don't think, however, that I have contracted giardia. After this video, we tried very diligently to drink the rest of the water as we ate dinner, but ultimately decided that we didn't want to (not that we couldn't...). So we dumped that shit out and then drank some wine.
All in all, I think we're both pretty satisfied with the Light Saber. No sickness yet, so cross your fingers. 14 days until we land in Rio de Janeiro and so much to attend to!
More soon,
xoxoKatyJane
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Three Weeks Out! By: Jess and Katy
Yes, its true. Less than 3 weeks (by one day!) and we're totally terrified. And happy. Jess got to Katy's house in Austin, TX last night for a week of preparing together. We compared our backpacks and realized that we each have the wrong pack ... so thats great. Or maybe we both have the right pack, or we each have a variation of the same thing which is ultimately correct ...?? and thus begins the ambiguity and uncertainty. BRING IT.
ps. fox talking to you on the phone is insufficient as clearly we need you. book a flight. quick!
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Is this really a good idea? By: Jess
Here we are, September 16th, less than a month to departure, and I still ask myself daily if this whole "I am going around the world with my two best friends!" thing is really that great of an idea. At first, it all seems so simple. We hop on a plane, brand-new packs strapped to our eager backs, our heads bursting with ideas and destinations, our fresh, clean faces smiling and laughing in anticipation, and after we get off the plane we have the most idyllic, life-changing 12 months of our lives. Usually the introductory sections of travel books promises us just that. They even give us pages and pages of clean hostel rooms and friendly looking natives and colorful animals and ancient sites to marvel at. Simple.
However, after the first 50 pages or so, these shiny travel books of possibility tend to turn into dictionaries of death. They list EVERY disease that ANYONE has EVER contracted in the ENTIRE country and warn us to get shots IMMEDIATELY (Japanese Encephalitis, anyone?). They warn us against unstable local governments, pickpockets, having every single thing in our possession being stolen. Personally, the thought of giving up fashion for a year, and rotating three t-shirts was a horror I had to deal with months ago. And now, on top of the fashion crisis and potential coup d'etat , you are telling me that I might not be showering as regularly as I like? Is this really a good idea?
After graduating this past spring, we have each had our moments of ups and downs with the trip. The concept of the trip itself has also changed and morphed as we have researched and dreamed and talked about exactly what we want to do and see at this young, curious moment in our lives. Speaking for myself, I am not going to say that I was always, 100% sure of the logic of this whole trip idea. The more "logical" option was to do what around 80% of my graduating class did - move to a big city (New York City), get a good job (sell your soul to an investment bank) and be content with making a lot of money and hanging out with your friends from college who have joined you in similar pursuits (wish you had done something different with your life). But ultimately I don't think that either Katy, Laura or myself are willing to settle for that just yet, if ever. The world is so much bigger than Manhattan, or Los Angeles (its true!) and there are so many different opportunities out there that we can't even fathom as the young 22/23 year olds that we are. We want to go out and see some cool stuff, and we are ready for the downsides and hardships that go along with it. The key is be be happy and productive in the moment, and learn as much as we possibly can about ourselves and the great, big world.
And I think that the three of us can safely say just that when we ask ourselves if this is really a good idea. We are shooting for the stars here, people! We are doing something different! We are taking the road less traveled! We are hitting the curveball! We are doing that thing that cliches are born form, and poetry is written about!
In the end, I think this is truly the best idea ever.
However, after the first 50 pages or so, these shiny travel books of possibility tend to turn into dictionaries of death. They list EVERY disease that ANYONE has EVER contracted in the ENTIRE country and warn us to get shots IMMEDIATELY (Japanese Encephalitis, anyone?). They warn us against unstable local governments, pickpockets, having every single thing in our possession being stolen. Personally, the thought of giving up fashion for a year, and rotating three t-shirts was a horror I had to deal with months ago. And now, on top of the fashion crisis and potential coup d'etat , you are telling me that I might not be showering as regularly as I like? Is this really a good idea?
After graduating this past spring, we have each had our moments of ups and downs with the trip. The concept of the trip itself has also changed and morphed as we have researched and dreamed and talked about exactly what we want to do and see at this young, curious moment in our lives. Speaking for myself, I am not going to say that I was always, 100% sure of the logic of this whole trip idea. The more "logical" option was to do what around 80% of my graduating class did - move to a big city (New York City), get a good job (sell your soul to an investment bank) and be content with making a lot of money and hanging out with your friends from college who have joined you in similar pursuits (wish you had done something different with your life). But ultimately I don't think that either Katy, Laura or myself are willing to settle for that just yet, if ever. The world is so much bigger than Manhattan, or Los Angeles (its true!) and there are so many different opportunities out there that we can't even fathom as the young 22/23 year olds that we are. We want to go out and see some cool stuff, and we are ready for the downsides and hardships that go along with it. The key is be be happy and productive in the moment, and learn as much as we possibly can about ourselves and the great, big world.
And I think that the three of us can safely say just that when we ask ourselves if this is really a good idea. We are shooting for the stars here, people! We are doing something different! We are taking the road less traveled! We are hitting the curveball! We are doing that thing that cliches are born form, and poetry is written about!
In the end, I think this is truly the best idea ever.
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