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
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