san diego sunset, honduran sunrise

Drumroll please, the first glimpse of my new home! I would have been able to take more pictures through the window, if the drunk Marine sitting next to me, who single-handedly went through nearly three bottles of fine Delta Merlot (Not like I'm judging, because I wouldn't have minded a glass myself if I hadn't been feeling nauseous from a combination of turbulence and nerves. Which was too bad, because I couldn't eat my scrumptious and delectably palatable first class meal of cheese ravioli with an artichoke and mushroom sauce, "freshly baked" french roll and butterscotch cheesecake. And yes, if you were wondering, they really do give you hot towels) hadn't been talking my ear off about how this was the 4th worst airport to land in the world. He sure really knew how to put me at ease.

But, alas, I made it to Tegucigalpa safe and sound--and as soon as I stepped on the tarmac, squinting (and sweating) in the bright Central American sun, I knew I made the right decision. Goodbye's were hard, they always are, but as I've found, the end is truly the beginning.

By the way, for anyone who doesn't know what I'm doing in Honduras, the one-line version is that I got a job as a Travel Coordinator for a non-profit called Global Brigades and my position is based in Tegucigalpa (say that five times fast--but do it quick, because from here on out it will be referred to as Tegus).

Passports stamped, customs passed, bags checked, dollars changed, lempiras received, badda bing badda bang. My dear friend Michelle was waiting at the airport, which was a wonderful surprise and surprisingly comforting, because as much as I hate to admit, I was nervous, and seeing a friendly face was more than reassuring. We lugged my bags to the car, piled in and headed off to Colonial Miraflores. Michelle turned to me in the car, "I'm sure you're really tired and everything, but I thought it be fun if we all went out tonight." I was running on about an two hours of sleep I managed to get in the dusk hours in the Atlanta airport and a triple-shot of espresso, but my adrenaline was keeping me awake, and I knew if I stopped I would crash. So out we went.

First, a stop at the apartment. It's a bit hard to explain the set-up. Basically, there is one big building, consisting of two conjoining apartments and the GB office, and a house about five minutes away. 15 staffers live in the apartment--including myself--which crowded, crazy, but somehow all works. I really think the best way to describe it is 'Real World-NGO', because everyone lives together, works together, eats together, etc etc etc. Except we are actually doing some good for humanity, too. And it's not broadcast to the world via MTV. Although that would be interesting. To say it wasn't intimidating and slightly overwhelming would be lying. I somehow have my own room AND bathroom, which is pretty VIP 'round these parts.

It's weird how familiar everything seems. The electric showers, that look like some sort of death contraption with wires and plugs coming out of places (like the shower head) that every logical bone in me says should NEVER be near anything with water but yet provides me with a steamy delight in the morning, the crazy taxi drivers, the guys guarding little tiendas with massive guns, the way everyone says "Buenas" to each other, fresh liquados served on the side of the road, street food in general, the concept of 'Honduran time.' I missed it all.

Saturday night was spent at AGAFAM, or Asociación de Ganaderos y Agricultores de Francisco Morazán. I'm sure that really explained it for you guys. Think the Del Mar Fair, with a Honduran twist. Market stalls peddling everything from generators to posters of the heartthrobs Aventura to the out of place Victoria's Secret stand, stands serving liquados and slightly smoky cotton candy that instantly turned your tongue bubble gum pink, games consisting of shooting neon G.I. Joe figurines with BB guns, prizes of cigarettes and rum, a Ferris wheel with an average 100mph rotation (seems the Hondurans missed the whole "romantic" concept of the ride, because it looked vomit-inducing), cerveza cerveza cerveza and a dinner of pupusas with quesito. We left on the earlier side, hordes of young locals heading in, tight and bright and ready to get their AGAFAM on. All in all, fun night and a great introduction to the county.

And, I actually celebrated SuperBowl Sunday. We projected the game onto the side of the wall, a makeshift flat-screen TV, seven-layer dips and fajitas and even artichoke dip made an appearance. The only thing missing was commercials--we only got the Honduran ones--but from what I've heard, I didn't miss much. Two years running with no SuperBowl commercials-but I think I'll survive.

The rest of the week has been pretty much consumed by a whirlwind of introductions, both to the staff and my job. More on that in another post. Below, a picture of my new familia on Global Brigades Day. To wrap up, I'm incredibly excited to be here. My only other experience with Honduras was on my last trip, and that was largely confined to the Bay Islands without much exploration of the mainland, besides what I saw out the bus window. Looking forward to getting to know a new country, new people, and embark on this next adventure.

spheres

why can't i find the words? i was on such a high. loving life. living each day. such a cliche but such a truth. wishing it would never end. addicts are right, the come-down is always the worst. somebody get me a cigarette, i feel a craving coming on..

i wake up and wish i was somewhere foreign. because what was foreign became familiar and what was familiar is now foreign. i love my family. i love my friends. but i am not me here--not everything i can be. a fish out of water. i don't feel inspired. i don't feel like i'm moving. stagnant and stuck. sometimes i feel lonelier here than when i was by myself. there was a camaraderie, an understanding, an instant bond, it seemed, between me and everyone else. i can't relate here. was it escape? so many people walked in and out of my life this year. moreso than my whole existence? no, of course not, but it feels that way sometimes. sonia annaraquel rodolfo anthony annamette helen peter kristofer leonie mez franky michael tomas lydia steve jamie caroline benjamin jeanette belinda nathan jedda rafael lolo javier saskia christina mette ed graham lawrence shaun gustavo mitch kate eddy martin ivan carlos pablo agustin nick sophie a million names i can't remember and will never forget, everyone and no one. we shared a beer, shared a story, shared a taxi, shared a fear, shared a love, shared advice, shared tears, shared laughs, shared beauty, shared ugliness, shared a language, shared the basic essence of humanity, gave everything and held back nothing. because why hold back? what do you have to lose? and why does it has to be so different here? grasping and catching only air, slipping silently through my fingers.

how easily do i fall back into routine. why such a straight line? i want to live spherically, in every direction.

i want to go to mexico. want to grow heady with the scent of indian spices. trek through the himalayas. party in the se asia loop before i get too hold to hang with the gap yahs. buy a rug in morocco. see petra in jordan. wake for sunrise over the nile. take the trans-siberian railroad. drink vodka in moscow. swim in havasupai falls. float in the dead sea. lose sleep during the midnight sun. samba in salvador. wander bazaars in istanbul. camp with bedouins in the sahara. find an oasis. be blinded by the white of santorini. walk the great wall. marvel at the aurora borealis. live in latin america. make it to the end of the world. see taste touch feel hear. all five senses. somebody take me away?

on love.

"for if every true love affair can feel like a journey

into a foreign country,

where you can't quite speak the language,

and you don't know where you're going,

and you're pulled even deeper into the inviting darkness,

every trip to a foreign country can be a love affair,

where your left puzzling over who you are,

and who you've fallen in love with.

all the great travel books are love stories, by some reckoning-

from the odyssey to the aeneid,

to the divine comedy and the new testament-

and all good trips, are,

like love,

about being carried out of yourself

and deposited in the midst of terror and wonder.

and,

if travel is like love,

it is, in the end,

mostly because it's a heightened state of awareness,

in which we are mindful,

receptive,

undimmed by familiarity

and ready to be transformed.

that's why the best trips,

like the best love affairs

never

really

end."

-pico ayer, excerpt from why we travel.

iguazuuuuuuu

foz de iguazu from above

this is not my picture. it was misty and rainy and COLD when i was there, so i gave you this money shot instead. by the way, i spent the entire 24 hour bus ride from cordoba to iguazu, shivering in my seat, dreaming about the hot, lush, sweaty, torrid weather i was about to enjoy for 2 days. i spent those 2 days in my sweatshirt, beanie, scarf and gloves. that was my outfit du jour in the tropical rainforest. anyone else confused? just me? nobody told me the tropics were FRIO!?

once i arrived in puerto igauzu, i dumped my backpack at the nearest hostel, conveniently located across the street from the bus terminal, and bundled up in my warmest clothes for a cooooold trip into in the jungle.

iguazu falls is a stunning combination of 275 individual falls pouring out of the amazon basin. legend has it a god planned to wed a beautiful aborigine, who fled with her mortal lover in a canoe. a typical man, the god was angered and sliced the iguazu river, creating the waterfalls and thus condemning the damned lovers to an eternal fall.

coitas, raccoon-like scavengers and curious little buggers, liked to make faces at my camera and beg for snacks before swinging back up into the trees. bluebirds, toucans and butterflies played tag in the lush vegetation. i heard the wildlife was better on the brazilian side, but as i had no visa and no intentions of forking over $135 for some more raccoons, i made do with the argentine animales.


you wander through the jungle on these elevated walkways that skirt the falls, weaving through the dense canopy and over rivers, watching the water rush faster and faster, mist blurring the air and fogging your view, the thunderous roar of pure power growing louder with every step. my clothes oscillated between damp and wet the whole day, because even though i was conned into buying one of those garbage-bag-with-hole rain jackets, i couldn't bring myself to actually wear it. and when you are at the mouth of the garganta del diablo, the devil's throat, next to thousands of gallons of white water pouring into the churning chasm below, staying dry is out of the question.

notice the different in weather? yeah. COLD.

the sheer, raw, natural power of the falls was nothing short of humbling. i stood for hours simply marveling at the intricate and artistic handiwork. i know i have said this over and over again, but i have just been so lucky to have seen so many magnificent places in this world that just make me feel small. small in the presence of something so big. such a small part in the incredible majesty of nature. i couldn't stop wondering what it would have been like to have discovered such a magical place, untouched by human hands. it made me want to find undiscovered places, to get off the beaten track, to get dirty, to get lost. just as long as i don't fall off the edge of a waterfall.

salud!!

and now we enter the 'posts from the past' stage, as yours truly became blissfully enamored with the argentinian way of life--namely dining at 10, drinkin' and dancin' till 6, sleeping till noon, then lazing my days with the rest of the porteños at parks and cafes until the cycle started all over again--and thus slightly neglected this lil' ol' blog. hey, when in rome...

so, let me take you back.

mendoza is argentina's premier wine-producing region, producing some 80% of the grape juice. i would be lying through my teeth if that wasn't my main reason for visiting--the moment i entered argy, my wino tendencies of my rome days kicked into full gear, and i was itching to get to the good stuff.

to be fair, the lovely city of mendoza has lots more to travelers than purple-stained teeth. wide tree-lined avenues, shady trees offering solace from the arid sun. numerous parks and plazas, lovers stealing kisses and hippies selling rasta jewelery. fun-loving locals who are all too willing to take you out to one of mendoza's many many many discos. days lazed by, sharing mate in the plaza independencia and having massive asados (argentine-style bbqs) with the laid-back hostel staff. nights were a techno-tainted blur, going out well after midnight and blinking at the first rays of sunlight on drives home. mornings-afters that were just as fun as night-befores.

it seemed, thought, that there was this new mendozian activity that is all the rage in the backpacker world. for me, it started with a free glass of vino from a wine museum and ended with a police escort. i have just three words for you: bicycle. wine. tour.

we bused out to the small wine-producing town of maipu, rented bikes from the rather infamous mr. hugo, received a map of the 14 bodegas and headed on our merry way. the sun was shining, the birds were singing, my bike had a basket and the first bodega on our map gave out free wine! life, my friends, was good.

stop #1: the wine musuem. we took photos next to massive wine barrels and snuck free glasses of the house malbec. the woman giving the tours correctly gauged our true interests and left out a couple of open bottles for us to taste.

stop #2: liqueur and chocolate shop. no wine to be found, just hunks of dark chocolate, gloriously bittersweet, peach-rum jam, sun-warmed olive oil, creamy spoonfuls of hazelnut dulce de leche and absinthe. it burned for a straight 5 minutes. 75% alcohol will do that to you.

midway--peddling starts to get extremely difficult. i think it's the absinthe. turns out to be a flat tire.

stop #3: while we wait for my replacement bike to arrive (sadly, without basket), the group shares a nice young bottle of cab sav.

stop #4: we wandered through the vineyards at tempus alba, sunned ourselves on their rooftop patio and sopped up some of the booze with a glorious bread and cheese plate. and tasted three wines, claro.

midway--damien tries biking with no hands, things go a bit awry. biking in a straight line because a fun challenge. where is the next winery?

stop #5: an american guy in our tasting group at familia de tomosa bodega asks when we get to try tequila. he was also drinking rum and coke through his camelback. more wine consumed. we learned out to detect the difference between young and old malbec grapes. i could not tell you the difference now.

midway--i get the sensation that someone is following me. YES. i got one of the legendary police moto escorts. he followed us for a bit, noticed our maroon-tinged teeth and the fluent spanish that comes with a certain amount of alcohol consumption, and gave us directions to the cerveceria. i love argentina.

stop #6: we decide to switch things up - boutique beer time at a cervezeria. a fantastic dark beer that is as light as a normal ale but full of flavor and no where near as heavy as stout. two pints down.

ride home--now best friends with police escort, helped a dog and her four puppies cross the road, passed the bike rental shop three times before we made it home.

stop #8: free wine at mr. hugos! bounce house! aaaannnnndddd....we're down for the count.

honestly, one of the best days of my trip. sipping delicious wine, biking through leafy wineries in the autumn-soaked sunshine, laughing learning loving living. good wine and great company--life really doesn't get better than that!

and, photos from salta, cachi-cafayate loop, mendoza

inspiration

"the world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked
it will have no choice
it will roll in ecstasy at your feet"
--kafka

"our battered suitcases were piled on the sidewalk again,
we had longer ways to go.
but no matter, the road is life"
-kerouac

"for my part, i travel not to go anywhere,
but to go.
i travel for travel's sake.
the great affair is to move"
-robert louis stevenson

"two roads diverged in a wood
and i--
i took the one less traveled by"
-robert frost

"not all those who travel are lost"
-j.r.r. tolkien

"adventure is a path.
real adventure –
self-determined,
self-motivated,
often risky –
forces you to have firsthand encounters with the world.
the world the way it is, not the way you imagine it.
your body will collide with the earth and you will bear witness.
in this way you will be compelled to grapple with the limitless kindness and bottomless cruelty of humankind –
and perhaps realize that you yourself are capable of both.
this will change you. nothing will ever again be
black-and-white"
-mark jenkins

i need to get back on the road. siempre adelante.

mas fotos!!

i promise updates on the rest of argentina and the end of my travels, but to tide you over until then...

pictures!! from...

ecuador

northern peru

southern peru

boliva

salar de uyuni

being home is weird. all this english is freaking me out.