Still existing. Its been a month now in the uk. I havent had much to say for myself.... cos i really havent been doing much at all. Trying to keep out of trouble in this crazy crazy city.
Been looking for jobs. So if anyone wants to pay me ridiculous amounts of money for .... stuff.. then email me here!!!
more to come soon. promise.
cal
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Friday, July 08, 2005
Sunday, June 26, 2005
There's No Place Like Home - Nearly
Today at 4pm GMT i arrived back in the first world.
It was the usual long-haul. Partying until 5am, packing till 6am. 2hours in front of the computer, on the internet. Passing out, passing in. Until 8am when my neighbours drove me to Rio's bus-terminal.
6 hours on the bus to Sao Paulo, 3 hours waiting at the airport, 2hours checking in. 6.5 hours to Amsterdam, transit, an hour delay, then the final 45minutes to London. Where, muscles twitching uncontrollably from the confinement, i make my way out of the airport.
Out of the subway station, Soho, and i can taste the excitement. Houses are orderly, streets wide and clean and filled with the cries of Sunday-evening revellers, and the expensive whirr of the Bmw's and Mercedes and Aston Martins that pass.
I feel like im in a carefully crafted advertisement on Brasilian tv. The kind that many Brasilians dream of living, in the same way they dream of going to the moon.
But here in London, the difference between rich and poor is compacted. And suddenly for the first time in a long time, i dont feel so bad for wanting things; a new camera, a nice car, to over-eat, to over-buy, to live in nice apartment with downlights and polished wood floors, plush couches, a laptop, and a king-size bed.
***
Its now 2am. Im passing in/out again - tired. The rumble of the trucks is coming in through the open windows and I wonder about my time, volunteering, in Brazil and how should I have changed
ps ill be more upbeat next post. promise :)
It was the usual long-haul. Partying until 5am, packing till 6am. 2hours in front of the computer, on the internet. Passing out, passing in. Until 8am when my neighbours drove me to Rio's bus-terminal.
6 hours on the bus to Sao Paulo, 3 hours waiting at the airport, 2hours checking in. 6.5 hours to Amsterdam, transit, an hour delay, then the final 45minutes to London. Where, muscles twitching uncontrollably from the confinement, i make my way out of the airport.
Out of the subway station, Soho, and i can taste the excitement. Houses are orderly, streets wide and clean and filled with the cries of Sunday-evening revellers, and the expensive whirr of the Bmw's and Mercedes and Aston Martins that pass.
I feel like im in a carefully crafted advertisement on Brasilian tv. The kind that many Brasilians dream of living, in the same way they dream of going to the moon.
But here in London, the difference between rich and poor is compacted. And suddenly for the first time in a long time, i dont feel so bad for wanting things; a new camera, a nice car, to over-eat, to over-buy, to live in nice apartment with downlights and polished wood floors, plush couches, a laptop, and a king-size bed.
***
Its now 2am. Im passing in/out again - tired. The rumble of the trucks is coming in through the open windows and I wonder about my time, volunteering, in Brazil and how should I have changed
ps ill be more upbeat next post. promise :)
Sunday, June 19, 2005
Dreams of Airports
LEAVING
im sitting in the computer room in the middle of the favela in which i live.
Its 1am and the gunshots have stopped. Generally its always hard to tell at nights exactly where they´re coming from - the sound carries from kilometres away. My neighbour says they only use gunshots here as signals... or when the police come.
Its generally cool but sometimes i worry about walking home. just if i get fronted by one of the guys here, i hope i can talk myself out of it. They generally know who i am now.
Things are slowing down a bit ahead of my departure in about a week.... and im feeling a mixture of accomplishment and sadness about leaving all the great things ive experienced here, the attachment. it will pass soon enough.
AIRPORTS
Ive really come to like airports on this trip. They offer a calm coolness, a generic sterility that is incredibly soothing when i´ve spent the last 8 hours being quasi-kidnapped like in Fiji (watch this space ill be doing some reviews on stuff that never made it to this blog) or getting my stomach x-rayed for drugs in Colombia, or generally just the high-stress of getting to the airport on-time without having anything stolen.
I had a dream last night about being at the airport. I realized that I liked the dream a lot. I think its time l left.
respex
cal
im sitting in the computer room in the middle of the favela in which i live.
Its 1am and the gunshots have stopped. Generally its always hard to tell at nights exactly where they´re coming from - the sound carries from kilometres away. My neighbour says they only use gunshots here as signals... or when the police come.
Its generally cool but sometimes i worry about walking home. just if i get fronted by one of the guys here, i hope i can talk myself out of it. They generally know who i am now.
Things are slowing down a bit ahead of my departure in about a week.... and im feeling a mixture of accomplishment and sadness about leaving all the great things ive experienced here, the attachment. it will pass soon enough.
AIRPORTS
Ive really come to like airports on this trip. They offer a calm coolness, a generic sterility that is incredibly soothing when i´ve spent the last 8 hours being quasi-kidnapped like in Fiji (watch this space ill be doing some reviews on stuff that never made it to this blog) or getting my stomach x-rayed for drugs in Colombia, or generally just the high-stress of getting to the airport on-time without having anything stolen.
I had a dream last night about being at the airport. I realized that I liked the dream a lot. I think its time l left.
respex
cal
Monday, June 13, 2005
In the Hood
Theres some crazy shit that goes down in the hood.
Just yesterday (sunday) my friend Magalhaes took me on a walking photography tour around the parts of the favela that i hadnt yet seen. The place is beautiful. Narrow alleyways where the children play hide and seek, bars that literally are a hole in the wall.
Think i got some good photos, but its on film, need to wait till they get developed - damn. Probably wont be able to put them onto flickr for a while - until at i get to uk at least... and earn some CASH.
At 8am this morning, i climbed from my house up to the "quadra". I was on my way to take photos of ballerinas who take lessons in the favela. A woman was crying. Her son had died of an overdose in the early hours of the morning. People said he was on "lolo" - some kind of shoe-makers glue. The ambulance didnt arrive in time. My friend Ricardo, 16, had helped to cover the body.
I´d been back at my house an hour when i heard fireworks going off. But the sound didnt stop. It was automatic gunfire. The police were entering the favela. Four of them with their AR-15 machine guns, scopes, and itchy trigger fingers. Acting like ....
Apparently the shots are from the dealers patrolling at the top of the favela to warn the dealers in the "quadra" of the arrival of the police. Apparently the police come in to the favela when they havent received their pay-off. Rustle people up. Make business difficult.
I was 30 metres away in my house watching the whole thing and i was scared. Its so weird to be scared of police. Im so used to being able to ask a policeman for directions. Here, i avoid them at all costs. The police are corrupt. The police do kill innocent people, often.
Its a society upside-down.
Apart from the police, inside the favela is the safest place ive been in Brasil so far. The drug barons run the place. The drug barons dont want any reason for the police to come to the favela - so they sort out all the problems. Robbery/rape/... its all pretty rare here because the drug barons come down hard. Anybody who does any of that stuff goes outside the favela... to places where the tourists are... copacabana, ipanema,...
****
ill write more on it when i have the time
got to go give an english lesson. take care. love to all
Just yesterday (sunday) my friend Magalhaes took me on a walking photography tour around the parts of the favela that i hadnt yet seen. The place is beautiful. Narrow alleyways where the children play hide and seek, bars that literally are a hole in the wall.
Think i got some good photos, but its on film, need to wait till they get developed - damn. Probably wont be able to put them onto flickr for a while - until at i get to uk at least... and earn some CASH.
At 8am this morning, i climbed from my house up to the "quadra". I was on my way to take photos of ballerinas who take lessons in the favela. A woman was crying. Her son had died of an overdose in the early hours of the morning. People said he was on "lolo" - some kind of shoe-makers glue. The ambulance didnt arrive in time. My friend Ricardo, 16, had helped to cover the body.
I´d been back at my house an hour when i heard fireworks going off. But the sound didnt stop. It was automatic gunfire. The police were entering the favela. Four of them with their AR-15 machine guns, scopes, and itchy trigger fingers. Acting like ....
Apparently the shots are from the dealers patrolling at the top of the favela to warn the dealers in the "quadra" of the arrival of the police. Apparently the police come in to the favela when they havent received their pay-off. Rustle people up. Make business difficult.
I was 30 metres away in my house watching the whole thing and i was scared. Its so weird to be scared of police. Im so used to being able to ask a policeman for directions. Here, i avoid them at all costs. The police are corrupt. The police do kill innocent people, often.
Its a society upside-down.
Apart from the police, inside the favela is the safest place ive been in Brasil so far. The drug barons run the place. The drug barons dont want any reason for the police to come to the favela - so they sort out all the problems. Robbery/rape/... its all pretty rare here because the drug barons come down hard. Anybody who does any of that stuff goes outside the favela... to places where the tourists are... copacabana, ipanema,...
****
ill write more on it when i have the time
got to go give an english lesson. take care. love to all
Thursday, June 09, 2005
Arms sewn back on again
Yeah, think ive solved my problem. Im now in the office of my ONG, using their computers. No more phaffing around with pay per use or with the "never working" computers in my other ONG. Not that its anyones fault really. Im poor and internet is expensive and hard to access.
I hope this will continue to be part of a positive trend and youll be hearing from me more often!!!!
love
cal
by the way, im very well thank you :)
I hope this will continue to be part of a positive trend and youll be hearing from me more often!!!!
love
cal
by the way, im very well thank you :)
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
Lost both arms
Hello People!
Let me begin with another apology. This time its not my fault. I have not written/ am not writing because i have NO INTERNET ACCESS.
The place where i normally use it - a tiny NGO to which i had been seconded - has not paid their phone bill because they have no cash, and now i have no internet. It feels like someone has tied both arms behind my back.... and my legs too for good measure!
Go to an internet cafe! I hear you say. Fact is - im super poor. not just regularly poor but superduper po (cant even afford the "or").
I had extended my time here in brasil by 1month. i thought everything was going to be fine. I had some english teaching work lined up etc. But the teaching hasnt panned out like i thought, im earning far less than i had expected (not enough students).
i know i shouldnt say things like this cos in comparison to the kids here i have everything. BUT i HAVE TO EARN IT NOWISH.
My two objectives in this extended time were to accelerate my learning in portuguese, and i can report that it is quite good. and to take more photos - also doing a real good job - sorry theyre all on film - need a film scanner to share them with you all!
*****
other than that, things are great. Im living in a favela (slum). But its really safe. Lots of guys with HUGE GUNS but theyre down with me being a local and all (restecp). Not getting out to do much more tourist stuff or to any bangin nightclubs cos again im po. but doing the stuff you can do cheap like hangin out with peops, going to the local (cheap) "funke" parties.. even drinking beer!
****
Not much more to say. I have been writing. its all in this exercise book. just need some time to UPLOAD. cant say when that will happen. until then... i can only promise to give you the ad-libbed adventures of calvin in brasil, occasionaly.
love and respect
cal
Let me begin with another apology. This time its not my fault. I have not written/ am not writing because i have NO INTERNET ACCESS.
The place where i normally use it - a tiny NGO to which i had been seconded - has not paid their phone bill because they have no cash, and now i have no internet. It feels like someone has tied both arms behind my back.... and my legs too for good measure!
Go to an internet cafe! I hear you say. Fact is - im super poor. not just regularly poor but superduper po (cant even afford the "or").
I had extended my time here in brasil by 1month. i thought everything was going to be fine. I had some english teaching work lined up etc. But the teaching hasnt panned out like i thought, im earning far less than i had expected (not enough students).
i know i shouldnt say things like this cos in comparison to the kids here i have everything. BUT i HAVE TO EARN IT NOWISH.
My two objectives in this extended time were to accelerate my learning in portuguese, and i can report that it is quite good. and to take more photos - also doing a real good job - sorry theyre all on film - need a film scanner to share them with you all!
*****
other than that, things are great. Im living in a favela (slum). But its really safe. Lots of guys with HUGE GUNS but theyre down with me being a local and all (restecp). Not getting out to do much more tourist stuff or to any bangin nightclubs cos again im po. but doing the stuff you can do cheap like hangin out with peops, going to the local (cheap) "funke" parties.. even drinking beer!
****
Not much more to say. I have been writing. its all in this exercise book. just need some time to UPLOAD. cant say when that will happen. until then... i can only promise to give you the ad-libbed adventures of calvin in brasil, occasionaly.
love and respect
cal
Friday, May 27, 2005
YOU SHOULD FEEL SPECIAL
Im back
again
within a week... i think
finally got regular FREEEEE access to the net, so i can get back to the things i like doing the best..... surfing... looking at other peoples photos, .... things i want to buy.
Got some stuff coming up too cos ive been writing. Wont spoil the show tho.
I am well. Living in a favela (slum). but this ones a good one. Really safe. Apparently only need to worry when the police come... which is when you cant get in or out. Hasnt happened yet. I dont think im tempting fate. The whole place is actually really well ordered. Theres no crime. The drug dealers enforce the law and order in the place. People who do rob/steal etc go down outside of the favela to do it.
But in fact, the majority of people here are workers, with proper office jobs, or shop assistants, or car park attendants. They work hard, but cant afford a house outside the favela. stuck.
Got my final date for leaving. 25th June. Sad, but theres many other things to be done. Looking forward to getting to UK, working etc. The countdown has made me excited tho. Finally got the courage (and some street-smarts) to get out on the street and take some photos, and around the favela too. Made some friends too who are going to chaperone me - very important.
Been giving english lessons too to keep my head above water. Really unusual look into the lives of people at different levels of brasilian society.
Let you know more about it SOON.
ps. feel special cos im writing to you.
respex
cal
again
within a week... i think
finally got regular FREEEEE access to the net, so i can get back to the things i like doing the best..... surfing... looking at other peoples photos, .... things i want to buy.
Got some stuff coming up too cos ive been writing. Wont spoil the show tho.
I am well. Living in a favela (slum). but this ones a good one. Really safe. Apparently only need to worry when the police come... which is when you cant get in or out. Hasnt happened yet. I dont think im tempting fate. The whole place is actually really well ordered. Theres no crime. The drug dealers enforce the law and order in the place. People who do rob/steal etc go down outside of the favela to do it.
But in fact, the majority of people here are workers, with proper office jobs, or shop assistants, or car park attendants. They work hard, but cant afford a house outside the favela. stuck.
Got my final date for leaving. 25th June. Sad, but theres many other things to be done. Looking forward to getting to UK, working etc. The countdown has made me excited tho. Finally got the courage (and some street-smarts) to get out on the street and take some photos, and around the favela too. Made some friends too who are going to chaperone me - very important.
Been giving english lessons too to keep my head above water. Really unusual look into the lives of people at different levels of brasilian society.
Let you know more about it SOON.
ps. feel special cos im writing to you.
respex
cal
Sunday, May 15, 2005
ummmm...yeah
Hello peoples!
Whatsup?
Yes im still in Brasil. Have i written often as promised,... NO!
But at least now i have an excuse... i live in a favela (slum) and i dont have internet!
Two weeks ago I left the "big brother house" that i was living in with the 16 other volunteers. I then went to live with the guy who runs the program at the favela where i work. But it was ridiculously small. He has just two glass pots (he never cooks) and when i tried to cook rice,.... I ate out every day for that week.
Then i got an offer from one of my english students to live at their place. Its this amazing house.. polished boards, etc right on the edge of the favela, overlooking the city, and beyond to the beaches and the sea.
TRYING TO STAY LONGER
My portuguese is getting better every day and im meeting heaps of great people here. On my ticket, im due to leave in two weeks. But im getting scared that in the week just before i leave all the cool things are going to happen and then ill have to leave - the constant worry being a traveller.
So, im trying to hook up some paid english lessons here (cos i only budgeted till the end of this month) to fill the gap. I mean, i could get by on what i have, but id like to party. I already have 4 lessons per week on the fly and need another 4. So any of you that know people needing english lessons in Brasil - LET ME KNOW.
ENGLISH LESSONS
The weird thing about giving lessons in english is how much you learn about the language. In my first couple of weeks here in the volunteer english lessons, the kids would ask me.. why? And all i could answer is .. it just IS. Never really had to think about what i was saying before.
One of the paid lessons i might begin next week is for a girl who is taking the TOEFL english aptitude test for entry to foreign unis. Teaching that will be hard.!
PHOTOS
Other than that, things are pretty cool. Just got the "go-ahead" from the social worker up at the favela to take photos around the favela. Its can be dangerous to do because the traffickers work within that area and are often walking around with big guns "just in case" another gang decides to attack them there, though this hasnt happened for about 2yrs.
So i WILL be posting more photos in due course.
POSTING
Like i said, dont have much internet time anymore. cant sleep at night. But will try and keep u guys up to date as much as i can.
Lots of love
cal
Whatsup?
Yes im still in Brasil. Have i written often as promised,... NO!
But at least now i have an excuse... i live in a favela (slum) and i dont have internet!
Two weeks ago I left the "big brother house" that i was living in with the 16 other volunteers. I then went to live with the guy who runs the program at the favela where i work. But it was ridiculously small. He has just two glass pots (he never cooks) and when i tried to cook rice,.... I ate out every day for that week.
Then i got an offer from one of my english students to live at their place. Its this amazing house.. polished boards, etc right on the edge of the favela, overlooking the city, and beyond to the beaches and the sea.
TRYING TO STAY LONGER
My portuguese is getting better every day and im meeting heaps of great people here. On my ticket, im due to leave in two weeks. But im getting scared that in the week just before i leave all the cool things are going to happen and then ill have to leave - the constant worry being a traveller.
So, im trying to hook up some paid english lessons here (cos i only budgeted till the end of this month) to fill the gap. I mean, i could get by on what i have, but id like to party. I already have 4 lessons per week on the fly and need another 4. So any of you that know people needing english lessons in Brasil - LET ME KNOW.
ENGLISH LESSONS
The weird thing about giving lessons in english is how much you learn about the language. In my first couple of weeks here in the volunteer english lessons, the kids would ask me.. why? And all i could answer is .. it just IS. Never really had to think about what i was saying before.
One of the paid lessons i might begin next week is for a girl who is taking the TOEFL english aptitude test for entry to foreign unis. Teaching that will be hard.!
PHOTOS
Other than that, things are pretty cool. Just got the "go-ahead" from the social worker up at the favela to take photos around the favela. Its can be dangerous to do because the traffickers work within that area and are often walking around with big guns "just in case" another gang decides to attack them there, though this hasnt happened for about 2yrs.
So i WILL be posting more photos in due course.
POSTING
Like i said, dont have much internet time anymore. cant sleep at night. But will try and keep u guys up to date as much as i can.
Lots of love
cal
Friday, April 01, 2005
Pulling my Finger Out
Yeah, the whole idea of pulling my finger out was that i was going to write on this thing.. often.
Instead, i think the format´s going to change. Im going to write more often, and less (like today). The odd long thing when i get around to it - its mainly for my own practice anyway :)
Its the end of my first month in Rio. Ive been living in this massive "big brother house" in the hills suburb of Santa Teresa. It has been cool. But like most things associated with big brother, it has become...tiring. 18 people running and shouting and letting their bad habits disturb everybody else.
I decided id move out.
But today, because ive found no other real options, ive decided that i´ll stay put.
The number of people in the house has halved and its much more CALM, and i can get out and do all the things i need to - still.
***
So from now on, you´ll be getting less of me more often. Are you excited?
Instead, i think the format´s going to change. Im going to write more often, and less (like today). The odd long thing when i get around to it - its mainly for my own practice anyway :)
Its the end of my first month in Rio. Ive been living in this massive "big brother house" in the hills suburb of Santa Teresa. It has been cool. But like most things associated with big brother, it has become...tiring. 18 people running and shouting and letting their bad habits disturb everybody else.
I decided id move out.
But today, because ive found no other real options, ive decided that i´ll stay put.
The number of people in the house has halved and its much more CALM, and i can get out and do all the things i need to - still.
***
So from now on, you´ll be getting less of me more often. Are you excited?
Thursday, March 17, 2005
Rio De Janeiro - The Promised Land
LOCATION: Rio de Janeiro, Brasil
DATE: 27/2/5
It was 8 months ago that i booked my flight to Latin America. And every night since then i´ve had the same dream of my arrival in the Promised Land - Rio de Janeiro City.
It starts with the image in black&white, grainy. I´m in the middle of a frenzied favela (slum) party in the hills of Rio - pulsing samba beats, the smell of frying garlic and onions and peppers, and crowds of people dancing in the streets.
The image snaps into color. The camera rises up above the favela and sweeps down the mountainside, over the skyscrapers of Rio central, and hovers above the beach, where hundreds of uniformly large-breasted "rent a hip-hop music video" girls lie, waiting.
As i touch down, they run over and dance around me as though i have lots of money, ..or lots of money. It makes little sense till i realise i´m in the film clip for "Beautiful" with Pharrel Williams - who is busy lip-synching next to me.
***
Unfortunately, due to 2 annoying travel habits, and 1 frustrating fact of life, my arrival was incredibly different.
Annoying Travel Habits
1. To prevent muggings, dress as poor as you possibly can
2. Be Cheap
Annoying Fact of Life
I dont know Pharrell Williams and i wasnt in the film-clip for "Beautiful"
***
It all started when i left Lima, Peru. I could have worn my clean, respectable jeans, trainers and a tee. But no, following rule no.1, i put on the outfit i had worn the day previous while playing "National Geographic Photographer" on a rubbish tip outside Lima. It smelled. Badly.
A flight from Lima to Rio should take about 9 hours. However, in my quest for cheapness, I flew instead 16 hours Lima-Panama-Sao Paulo. I then could have taken a 1hr shuttle flight Sao Paulo-Rio, but the bus was.. shall i say it? "much cheaper". Not the comfortable tourist bus either, but the cheap one. The peoples bus.
So finally, 20hrs after i left Lima, smelling remarkably like someone who had been frolicking in a rubbish tip the entire day, I was met by the director of my volunteer program.
He was not Pharrell Williams. He did not posess incredibly large boobs.
However, i was grateful to be in safe hands, and in a taxi rolling through the vast and dangerous city that is Rio de Janeiro.
I arrived finally at the volunteer house, which i had expected to be a volunteer house. Instead, it was a 5-floor mansion with jacuzzi, sauna, giant TV that had been converted to house the other 16 international volunteers.
That night, in bed and listening to a chorus of belching frogs, i couldnt make up my mind whether to be disappointed by my arrival, or glad just to have made it without being robbed. I questioned my sanity - almost grasping one language to throw myself into learning another.
Eventually, I dropped these thoughts into the "too-hard basket" and went to sleep.
DATE: 27/2/5
It was 8 months ago that i booked my flight to Latin America. And every night since then i´ve had the same dream of my arrival in the Promised Land - Rio de Janeiro City.
It starts with the image in black&white, grainy. I´m in the middle of a frenzied favela (slum) party in the hills of Rio - pulsing samba beats, the smell of frying garlic and onions and peppers, and crowds of people dancing in the streets.
The image snaps into color. The camera rises up above the favela and sweeps down the mountainside, over the skyscrapers of Rio central, and hovers above the beach, where hundreds of uniformly large-breasted "rent a hip-hop music video" girls lie, waiting.
As i touch down, they run over and dance around me as though i have lots of money, ..or lots of money. It makes little sense till i realise i´m in the film clip for "Beautiful" with Pharrel Williams - who is busy lip-synching next to me.
***
Unfortunately, due to 2 annoying travel habits, and 1 frustrating fact of life, my arrival was incredibly different.
Annoying Travel Habits
1. To prevent muggings, dress as poor as you possibly can
2. Be Cheap
Annoying Fact of Life
I dont know Pharrell Williams and i wasnt in the film-clip for "Beautiful"
***
It all started when i left Lima, Peru. I could have worn my clean, respectable jeans, trainers and a tee. But no, following rule no.1, i put on the outfit i had worn the day previous while playing "National Geographic Photographer" on a rubbish tip outside Lima. It smelled. Badly.
A flight from Lima to Rio should take about 9 hours. However, in my quest for cheapness, I flew instead 16 hours Lima-Panama-Sao Paulo. I then could have taken a 1hr shuttle flight Sao Paulo-Rio, but the bus was.. shall i say it? "much cheaper". Not the comfortable tourist bus either, but the cheap one. The peoples bus.
So finally, 20hrs after i left Lima, smelling remarkably like someone who had been frolicking in a rubbish tip the entire day, I was met by the director of my volunteer program.
He was not Pharrell Williams. He did not posess incredibly large boobs.
However, i was grateful to be in safe hands, and in a taxi rolling through the vast and dangerous city that is Rio de Janeiro.
I arrived finally at the volunteer house, which i had expected to be a volunteer house. Instead, it was a 5-floor mansion with jacuzzi, sauna, giant TV that had been converted to house the other 16 international volunteers.
That night, in bed and listening to a chorus of belching frogs, i couldnt make up my mind whether to be disappointed by my arrival, or glad just to have made it without being robbed. I questioned my sanity - almost grasping one language to throw myself into learning another.
Eventually, I dropped these thoughts into the "too-hard basket" and went to sleep.
Saturday, February 26, 2005
Friday, February 25, 2005
Getting in Touch With ... Shite
LOCATION: La Paz, Bolivia
DATE: 18/2/5
PARENTAL GUIDANCE: Longish with long words. Occasional use of "shite" and "poo".
If i were 5 again, i would have tugged at my mum's skirt & asked, loudly, "why do those people smell like poo?"
Mum would have shepherded me away, embarassed, blushing, apologising & telling me off for being rude.
Whether i was rude or not, the fact would still remain that the people smelled like poo.
....
My father is a doctor, & in my childhood i'd been exposed to many unusual things. I've seen (in detail) operations such as wart removals, or men being "sterilised". I also joined my dad on numerous trips to visit a dying patient, shrivelled, shrunken weird smelling, with cancer eating away part of their jaw. I used to sit & talk. Dad said it made them happier.
Yet even now, at 26yrs of age and after all that experience, I find the smell of poo (or shite, as i'll call it from now on) unbearable.
.....
I boarded the bus at the station in La Paz, excited that i'd been 2hours in the station with nothing yet stolen.
I had paid us$7 for a 7hour trip to the small mining town of Potosi. It was only us$3 more for the luxury line, but i am a cheap backpacker. The cheaper ticket also came with a mystery prize - humanity.
As i wandered up the aisle to my seat, there were families laden with gifts on their way to visit relatives, sisters with blankets across their knees, sharing a headphone each from their discman - lip-synching blissfully, little old ladies with all their goods wrapped in the multicolored blankets typical of this region, hoisted high up on their backs - the loose ends clung tightly underneath their chin.
One in particular, looked about 80 but was probably only 55 (women here seem to age really quickly) was fussing her two poorly dressed & snot-nosed young boys into the two seats opposite mine.
With unusual care, She untied her blanket-bundle & let it down on the seat next to the boys. It gurgled - yet another child. She then set about making herself comfortable in the middle of the aisle, as she had only enough money for two seats.
It was around this time that i began to smell shite. I checked the soles of both shoes, mentally noted that i'd had a shower that morning, then began looking elsewhere.
The little old lady in the aisle stood up to check something then sat down again, ...releasing a cloud of unmistakable shite-dust in my direction.
I gagged, not knowing what to do. I looked around to see if anyone else had noticed. But no, the sisters were still singing and the family in front was still trying, unsuccessfully to put their bags in the overhead compartment
The bus hadn't yet left the station. I still had 10 hours of travelling ahead. I felt like screaming.
I took off my beanie and stuffed it over my nose. I even managed to swap to the window seat, enduring the near-freezing temperatures in a desperate struggle for fresh air. I looked out the window into the night, trying to think of something else.
......
The reason I had left Australia was that i was looking for experience; something raw, grounded in reality, a wake-up call.
And possibly at that moment, the man upstairs was trying to tell me that part of my experience was that i had to get in touch...with shite.
The shite of unusual situations, of unusual places. The shite of the lives of people who are immeasurably poorer than me, have no opportunities, and may even smell like shite, but who are still people.
.........
I'd like to close - in typical high school style - with an extraordinarily long quote that both increases my wordcount and has lots of long words that make me feel really important.
But bear with me. Im quoting it cos it actually is important, and i couldnt possibly say it better myself. (from one of my favourite books from one of my favourite authors)
"The objection to shit is a metaphysical [ooooh] one. The daily defecation session is daily proof of the unacceptability of creation."
"Either/Or: either shit is acceptable (in which case you dont lock yourself in the bathroom!) or we are created in an unacceptable manner."
"It follows, then, that [there exists an] aesthetic ideal of the categorical agreement with being in a world in which shit is denied and everyone acts as though it did not exist"
"This aesthetic ideal is called kitsch....."
breathe
"Repeated use [of this word - kitsch], however, has obliterated its original metaphysical meaning meaning"
"Kitsch is the absolute denial of shit, in both literal and figurative senses of the word;
"Kitsch excludes everything from its (pur)view which is essentially unacceptable in human existence"
....
The fundamental reason why im now travelling is that kitsch is exactly what im trying to avoid.
Amen
ps. promise, back to the fun stuff soon!
DATE: 18/2/5
PARENTAL GUIDANCE: Longish with long words. Occasional use of "shite" and "poo".
If i were 5 again, i would have tugged at my mum's skirt & asked, loudly, "why do those people smell like poo?"
Mum would have shepherded me away, embarassed, blushing, apologising & telling me off for being rude.
Whether i was rude or not, the fact would still remain that the people smelled like poo.
....
My father is a doctor, & in my childhood i'd been exposed to many unusual things. I've seen (in detail) operations such as wart removals, or men being "sterilised". I also joined my dad on numerous trips to visit a dying patient, shrivelled, shrunken weird smelling, with cancer eating away part of their jaw. I used to sit & talk. Dad said it made them happier.
Yet even now, at 26yrs of age and after all that experience, I find the smell of poo (or shite, as i'll call it from now on) unbearable.
.....
I boarded the bus at the station in La Paz, excited that i'd been 2hours in the station with nothing yet stolen.
I had paid us$7 for a 7hour trip to the small mining town of Potosi. It was only us$3 more for the luxury line, but i am a cheap backpacker. The cheaper ticket also came with a mystery prize - humanity.
As i wandered up the aisle to my seat, there were families laden with gifts on their way to visit relatives, sisters with blankets across their knees, sharing a headphone each from their discman - lip-synching blissfully, little old ladies with all their goods wrapped in the multicolored blankets typical of this region, hoisted high up on their backs - the loose ends clung tightly underneath their chin.
One in particular, looked about 80 but was probably only 55 (women here seem to age really quickly) was fussing her two poorly dressed & snot-nosed young boys into the two seats opposite mine.
With unusual care, She untied her blanket-bundle & let it down on the seat next to the boys. It gurgled - yet another child. She then set about making herself comfortable in the middle of the aisle, as she had only enough money for two seats.
It was around this time that i began to smell shite. I checked the soles of both shoes, mentally noted that i'd had a shower that morning, then began looking elsewhere.
The little old lady in the aisle stood up to check something then sat down again, ...releasing a cloud of unmistakable shite-dust in my direction.
I gagged, not knowing what to do. I looked around to see if anyone else had noticed. But no, the sisters were still singing and the family in front was still trying, unsuccessfully to put their bags in the overhead compartment
The bus hadn't yet left the station. I still had 10 hours of travelling ahead. I felt like screaming.
I took off my beanie and stuffed it over my nose. I even managed to swap to the window seat, enduring the near-freezing temperatures in a desperate struggle for fresh air. I looked out the window into the night, trying to think of something else.
......
The reason I had left Australia was that i was looking for experience; something raw, grounded in reality, a wake-up call.
And possibly at that moment, the man upstairs was trying to tell me that part of my experience was that i had to get in touch...with shite.
The shite of unusual situations, of unusual places. The shite of the lives of people who are immeasurably poorer than me, have no opportunities, and may even smell like shite, but who are still people.
.........
I'd like to close - in typical high school style - with an extraordinarily long quote that both increases my wordcount and has lots of long words that make me feel really important.
But bear with me. Im quoting it cos it actually is important, and i couldnt possibly say it better myself. (from one of my favourite books from one of my favourite authors)
"The objection to shit is a metaphysical [ooooh] one. The daily defecation session is daily proof of the unacceptability of creation."
"Either/Or: either shit is acceptable (in which case you dont lock yourself in the bathroom!) or we are created in an unacceptable manner."
"It follows, then, that [there exists an] aesthetic ideal of the categorical agreement with being in a world in which shit is denied and everyone acts as though it did not exist"
"This aesthetic ideal is called kitsch....."
breathe
"Repeated use [of this word - kitsch], however, has obliterated its original metaphysical meaning meaning"
"Kitsch is the absolute denial of shit, in both literal and figurative senses of the word;
"Kitsch excludes everything from its (pur)view which is essentially unacceptable in human existence"
....
The fundamental reason why im now travelling is that kitsch is exactly what im trying to avoid.
Amen
ps. promise, back to the fun stuff soon!
Thursday, February 24, 2005
Hokay
Hokay peoples
Just arrived back in Lima. Staying in the party suburb of Barranco this time. Got a few days to kill here before leaving or Brazil on the 27th.
Im just a LITTLE bit excited about Brazil. Cant wait.
Anyway, got a backlog of things to post. Ive just been travelling through some remote parts of Bolivia for the last few days, then 36hrs of bussing to get here. Excellent. But ive had a shower and feeling daisy-fresh after scrubbing parts of me that havent seen daylight or soap for....... you dont want to know
Lots of love
Just arrived back in Lima. Staying in the party suburb of Barranco this time. Got a few days to kill here before leaving or Brazil on the 27th.
Im just a LITTLE bit excited about Brazil. Cant wait.
Anyway, got a backlog of things to post. Ive just been travelling through some remote parts of Bolivia for the last few days, then 36hrs of bussing to get here. Excellent. But ive had a shower and feeling daisy-fresh after scrubbing parts of me that havent seen daylight or soap for....... you dont want to know
Lots of love
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
Sorry for the Absence
Hola Peoples
Sorry for the absence. I've been trekking across Bolivia. No internet.
So im going to do some backtracking for you.
watch this space
Sorry for the absence. I've been trekking across Bolivia. No internet.
So im going to do some backtracking for you.
watch this space
Monday, February 14, 2005
Down in .....Copacabana!
Time is ticking away. I have much to see and not much time in which to do it. Further complicated by the fact that i decided to do my washing in a small Bolivian town that does have electricity (a good start!), but seriously lacking in machines of the washing or drying variety.
I gave my new friend "Rocky" my washing at midday yesterday and he promised (smiling with all four teeth) that i would have it back at 10am today, weather permitting. Obviously, the weather didn´t permit and im still here.
It´s not such a bad thing because soon i will have clean clothes (!), and the little Bolivian city with no washing machines (a.k.a. Copàcabana) is actually fun.
Copacabana is situated on the west coast of Titicaca, south-east of Puno. Unlike Puno however, Copacabana is interesting, it´s moderately warm, and there are plenty of other gringos to meet and hang out with.
Actually, there are hordes of gringos here - some have taken to living here and selling handicrafts, growing dreadlocks and wearing incredibly innovative combinations of leg warmers, Jesus sandals and striped "happy" pants.
For the most part they seem happy, whether it be with the help of illicit substances or not, as they sit beside their mats of crafts and stare a little too intently at the wall across the street.
The locals however were preoccupied with substances of their own - alcohol. All this week is their annual festival, and the sound of out-of-tune trumpets can be heard for miles around.
By the time we went to investigate, in the mid-afternoon, it seemed that the entire town had gathered in the central plaza and was slowly going through the early stages of paralysis.
Those who still could, danced behind the band on a small circuit around the plaza. The women wore their typical "sunday best" white camisole, wide skirts and little hats, and the men in garish costumes studded with mirrors, and masks.
As we walked around, people were falling over themselves, lying asleep in the park and gutters. Children played in between the melee, making the most of the opportunity to laugh at their drunken parents.
We found a quiet corner and sat watching the commotion, and sharing a bottle of La Paz "bitter", until we were set upon by a local who introduced himself every 10minutes as "Mark" and spent the rest of the night practicing his English, loudly, in my left ear.
Soon I lost Maaike in a crowd of incredibly tall Bolivian musicians, who spoke very good English, and were spellbound by her Nordic charms.
Like anywhere around the world (e.g. Melbourne Cup Racing Carnival, Oktoberfest), a day´s drinking in the sun means brawling on the streets all night. Although it could have been interesting, I didnt really want to try my luck, so i rescued Maaike from her throng of admirers and headed to a quiet gringo bar for a beer.
Later on I walked home, and for lack of anything else to do, went to bed at 10pm. I decided that i was far more entertained than i ever had been in Puno. But still, i wondered how the gringos that lived here kept themselves amused day after day.
I concluded, just before drifting off to sleep, that the drugs here in Copacabana, must be good AND cheap.
I gave my new friend "Rocky" my washing at midday yesterday and he promised (smiling with all four teeth) that i would have it back at 10am today, weather permitting. Obviously, the weather didn´t permit and im still here.
It´s not such a bad thing because soon i will have clean clothes (!), and the little Bolivian city with no washing machines (a.k.a. Copàcabana) is actually fun.
Copacabana is situated on the west coast of Titicaca, south-east of Puno. Unlike Puno however, Copacabana is interesting, it´s moderately warm, and there are plenty of other gringos to meet and hang out with.
Actually, there are hordes of gringos here - some have taken to living here and selling handicrafts, growing dreadlocks and wearing incredibly innovative combinations of leg warmers, Jesus sandals and striped "happy" pants.
For the most part they seem happy, whether it be with the help of illicit substances or not, as they sit beside their mats of crafts and stare a little too intently at the wall across the street.
The locals however were preoccupied with substances of their own - alcohol. All this week is their annual festival, and the sound of out-of-tune trumpets can be heard for miles around.
By the time we went to investigate, in the mid-afternoon, it seemed that the entire town had gathered in the central plaza and was slowly going through the early stages of paralysis.
Those who still could, danced behind the band on a small circuit around the plaza. The women wore their typical "sunday best" white camisole, wide skirts and little hats, and the men in garish costumes studded with mirrors, and masks.
As we walked around, people were falling over themselves, lying asleep in the park and gutters. Children played in between the melee, making the most of the opportunity to laugh at their drunken parents.
We found a quiet corner and sat watching the commotion, and sharing a bottle of La Paz "bitter", until we were set upon by a local who introduced himself every 10minutes as "Mark" and spent the rest of the night practicing his English, loudly, in my left ear.
Soon I lost Maaike in a crowd of incredibly tall Bolivian musicians, who spoke very good English, and were spellbound by her Nordic charms.
Like anywhere around the world (e.g. Melbourne Cup Racing Carnival, Oktoberfest), a day´s drinking in the sun means brawling on the streets all night. Although it could have been interesting, I didnt really want to try my luck, so i rescued Maaike from her throng of admirers and headed to a quiet gringo bar for a beer.
Later on I walked home, and for lack of anything else to do, went to bed at 10pm. I decided that i was far more entertained than i ever had been in Puno. But still, i wondered how the gringos that lived here kept themselves amused day after day.
I concluded, just before drifting off to sleep, that the drugs here in Copacabana, must be good AND cheap.
Hello Bolivia
Today is valentines day. Excellent. A day that many of my friends unanimously agree is undoubtedly commercial, yet somehow it never fails to put the female half of my friends in a spin.
For example Maaike. After insisting, all day, that she wasnt part of the Valentine´s day hype, she decided to tease me for not having received any Valentine´s cards.
Do i care? No, not really. Im tough, honest.
****
I left Puno today, finally.
I was getting so tired of the monotony. Its particularly difficult to meet people, other backpackers, most of the travellers are old, or hard-to-meet couples.
So yes, it was an exhilarating feeling to finally be on that bus to Copacabana. It lasted about half an hour...until my right buttock began to go numb and i had to switch to my left.
Soon both legs had gone dead, and i was beginning to feel warm, but couldnt take off my jumper because i was squeezed in with the window on one side and my friend Maaike on the other, who was squashed up against one of the shortest, and widest Peruvian women i have yet seen.. and her bag of chickens.
The scenery, however, was something else.
Where the town of Puno was grey and dreary, the landscape just outside of Puno was suddenly infused with color. There were farming communities with simple houses on grassy plains, shepherds tending sheep and pigs, with a backdrop of mountains, clear blue skies and the crystalline shores of lake Titicaca.
After 2 1/2 hours, we finally reached the border town of Yunguyo. I cracked my back and looked around for some transport to the migration office at the Bolivia-Peru border, 2km away.
We were about to jump in a taxi when two pedal-tricycle owners offered to take Me, Maaike and our two new friends, and our backpacks to "la frontera" for a total of us$0.70. We clarified the price again - no mistake - then set down the quiet country-Peruvian road, in the front of our little pedal-tricycle, feet up on the front bar and the wind whistling in our hair....
However, there are few experiences that have made me feel more like a disgustingly wealthy foreigner intent on exploiting the cheap local labour, than having an uneducated, unprivileged and underpaid local man sweating away years of his life behind me while i sit back and enjoy the view. From now on, i´ll only use motors.
We turned a corner and a hill opened up before us, the Peru-Bolivia border visible at the summit. Our cyclist garbled something to his mate (who was cycling with our other two friends), who didnt hear and was already making his way up the hill.
We kept on, but as the hill steepened, we jumped out and helped to push.
Finally arriving at the top, everybody sweating and panting, we paid our cyclists the $0.70 we agreed upon, and watched their faces drop. We quadrupled their price as a goodwill, but still they werent happy.
I tried to explain to them that they shouldnt have told us a different price in the beginning, but of course they didnt understand... and thought that we were more westerners trying to exploit cheap local labour.
It was the first time it had happened in Peru and i was relieved that it would also be the last, as i happily crossed the border into Bolivia.
For example Maaike. After insisting, all day, that she wasnt part of the Valentine´s day hype, she decided to tease me for not having received any Valentine´s cards.
Do i care? No, not really. Im tough, honest.
****
I left Puno today, finally.
I was getting so tired of the monotony. Its particularly difficult to meet people, other backpackers, most of the travellers are old, or hard-to-meet couples.
So yes, it was an exhilarating feeling to finally be on that bus to Copacabana. It lasted about half an hour...until my right buttock began to go numb and i had to switch to my left.
Soon both legs had gone dead, and i was beginning to feel warm, but couldnt take off my jumper because i was squeezed in with the window on one side and my friend Maaike on the other, who was squashed up against one of the shortest, and widest Peruvian women i have yet seen.. and her bag of chickens.
The scenery, however, was something else.
Where the town of Puno was grey and dreary, the landscape just outside of Puno was suddenly infused with color. There were farming communities with simple houses on grassy plains, shepherds tending sheep and pigs, with a backdrop of mountains, clear blue skies and the crystalline shores of lake Titicaca.
After 2 1/2 hours, we finally reached the border town of Yunguyo. I cracked my back and looked around for some transport to the migration office at the Bolivia-Peru border, 2km away.
We were about to jump in a taxi when two pedal-tricycle owners offered to take Me, Maaike and our two new friends, and our backpacks to "la frontera" for a total of us$0.70. We clarified the price again - no mistake - then set down the quiet country-Peruvian road, in the front of our little pedal-tricycle, feet up on the front bar and the wind whistling in our hair....
However, there are few experiences that have made me feel more like a disgustingly wealthy foreigner intent on exploiting the cheap local labour, than having an uneducated, unprivileged and underpaid local man sweating away years of his life behind me while i sit back and enjoy the view. From now on, i´ll only use motors.
We turned a corner and a hill opened up before us, the Peru-Bolivia border visible at the summit. Our cyclist garbled something to his mate (who was cycling with our other two friends), who didnt hear and was already making his way up the hill.
We kept on, but as the hill steepened, we jumped out and helped to push.
Finally arriving at the top, everybody sweating and panting, we paid our cyclists the $0.70 we agreed upon, and watched their faces drop. We quadrupled their price as a goodwill, but still they werent happy.
I tried to explain to them that they shouldnt have told us a different price in the beginning, but of course they didnt understand... and thought that we were more westerners trying to exploit cheap local labour.
It was the first time it had happened in Peru and i was relieved that it would also be the last, as i happily crossed the border into Bolivia.
How to get out of a CRAP PLACE
If there were prizes for being indecisive, i think i would take top position.
I am now in Copacabana, Bolivia, the place i said i wasnt going to go to. Im on a whirlwind tour of Bolivia that´s going to include all of Copacabana, La Paz, Uyuni (beautiful salt plains) then into Chile for a bus ride back to Peru.
The great thing about Bolivia is that its hell cheap. Just had the most amazing lunch. Going to my ridiculously cheap hostel for a sleep.
Will try and wake up before sunset cos it looks like its going to be a good one!
What changed my mind? Well Maaike arrived from Cuzco and managed to talk some sense into me & successfully rescued me from the crap place that is Puno. I mean, even the name sounds like shite.
Will post on Machu Picchu soon. Really in need of sleep.
love to all
I am now in Copacabana, Bolivia, the place i said i wasnt going to go to. Im on a whirlwind tour of Bolivia that´s going to include all of Copacabana, La Paz, Uyuni (beautiful salt plains) then into Chile for a bus ride back to Peru.
The great thing about Bolivia is that its hell cheap. Just had the most amazing lunch. Going to my ridiculously cheap hostel for a sleep.
Will try and wake up before sunset cos it looks like its going to be a good one!
What changed my mind? Well Maaike arrived from Cuzco and managed to talk some sense into me & successfully rescued me from the crap place that is Puno. I mean, even the name sounds like shite.
Will post on Machu Picchu soon. Really in need of sleep.
love to all
Sunday, February 13, 2005
PUNO.......again
Yes, after a particularly unspectacular chain of events, im still in Puno.
Its kind of amusing that i´ve spent so much time dissing this town & im finding it so hard to leave.
I went to the bus station this morning to try to go to Copacabana - this town on the Bolivian side of Lake Titicaca. But its Sunday. And there are no buses.
So i went back to my hostel and explained, embarrasingly, why i needed to have my room again for one more night.... hooray.
Its probably been a good thing though, because i´ve been ignoring my budget for the last few days - playing the "what you dont know cant hurt you" game. So i finally sat down & checked out my finances. ouch. Its not that im dirt poor, its just that i like to have cash in reserve, just in case..
But if you do want to send donations... haha
Bolivia is cancelled, and instead i´ll be heading back up the coast of Peru; Arequipa, Nazca.. It´ll be good fun.
I do like peru a lot, but today i was watching a post-rio-carnaval report on tv today and im getting very very excited about Brazil. I cant wait for sun and warmth - all the places ive been so far in south america are unbelievably cold becuase of the altitude.
mmmmmmmmmbrazil.
take care all
Its kind of amusing that i´ve spent so much time dissing this town & im finding it so hard to leave.
I went to the bus station this morning to try to go to Copacabana - this town on the Bolivian side of Lake Titicaca. But its Sunday. And there are no buses.
So i went back to my hostel and explained, embarrasingly, why i needed to have my room again for one more night.... hooray.
Its probably been a good thing though, because i´ve been ignoring my budget for the last few days - playing the "what you dont know cant hurt you" game. So i finally sat down & checked out my finances. ouch. Its not that im dirt poor, its just that i like to have cash in reserve, just in case..
But if you do want to send donations... haha
Bolivia is cancelled, and instead i´ll be heading back up the coast of Peru; Arequipa, Nazca.. It´ll be good fun.
I do like peru a lot, but today i was watching a post-rio-carnaval report on tv today and im getting very very excited about Brazil. I cant wait for sun and warmth - all the places ive been so far in south america are unbelievably cold becuase of the altitude.
mmmmmmmmmbrazil.
take care all
Saturday, February 12, 2005
Puno and Lake Titicaca
Ive just returned from a tour of Lake Titicaca and its island; Amantani, Taquile - rich with pre-inca ruins, and the floating island of Uros.
It was ok. i guess. Great for the over-50s travellers.... Maybe it was just the cold - it always seems to dampen my excitement.....
It was freezing. We left the cove in Puno and it didnt stop raining for the rest of the day, making it hard to see sites across lake Titicaca.
After 4hrs we arrived on the island of Amantani. Its an amazing little island of around 8000 inhabitants, none of whom are over 5 1/2 feet. The entire town looks like a "lord of the rings" styled hobbit village, with tiny stone walkways, tiny houses with adjoining farming plots.
Our homestay was with a guy who declared himself to be the "tourism minister" for the island. I think somehow it was lost in translation from his native Quecha to Spanish to English.
He led us to this quaint adobe house, where he lived with his wife and four children. I had to bend double to get in any of the doorways. Fortunately the beds were normal size, and i took a short nap before lunch.
Lunch was a meagre affair; 1 egg, 3small potatos and a bowl of soup. I had to remind myself that i was "experiencing" and resisted the temptation to ask for more.
Later, our host insisted on showing us his new pants and tracksuit jacket and watch that he had been given by previous travellers who had stayed with him.... and tactfully wrote down his address "in case we wanted to get in touch".
Dinner was again small, potatos and rice affair, supplemented with slivers of fish for flavor. There was meant to be a party but it was rained out, and instead we sat inside and tried to teach the host´s son a bit of english - hard work, i think he was kind of simple.
I went to bed at 930 for lack of anything to do. These people led such simple lives. I felt bad for being bored, but soon forgot.
TAQUILE
Taquile was far more interesting, but for all the wrong reasons. We arrived at port, walked up a hill. saw some ruins. Ate lunch in a central plaza and had an unusually insightful lecture on the sexual politics of Taquile island, and Uros - the next island we were to visit.
He explained to us that both islands had a tradition of incest. On Taquile, he said, it was generally fathers with daughters, but on Uros, it was brothers with sisters. I felt sick. I and wanted to doubt him, but his explanation was quite similar in both Spanish and English.
ive done a google search but found nothing. i cant verify these claims, the people dont look particularly in-bred....
Anyway, with that in mind, i was more than happy to leave Taquile and be on the way back to Puno.
UROS
Uros was cool. Reeds grow 10m from the ocean floor. The islanders take these reeds and pile them in a criss-cross fashion to a thickness of around 1.5m. The people fish and sell it at the market for rice and potatos. They drink the water directly from titicaca and apparently dont suffer cholera becuase after every meal, they eat the lower part of the reed plant. Again cant verify.
After taking lots of photos, then being asked to pay 1sole (50cents) for each one, we motored back to puno´s port.
PUNO
back in puno. I found a wicked little bar last night with a dj who has an amazing soulful house collection. sat and drank baileys with my new friends Carmen and Alex. excellent.
going to the bolivian town of copacabana tomorrow. Im going to make an effor to get to the solar de uyuni,.. these massive salt plains in the south of bolivia. expecting more excitement. let you know how it goes.
cal
It was ok. i guess. Great for the over-50s travellers.... Maybe it was just the cold - it always seems to dampen my excitement.....
It was freezing. We left the cove in Puno and it didnt stop raining for the rest of the day, making it hard to see sites across lake Titicaca.
After 4hrs we arrived on the island of Amantani. Its an amazing little island of around 8000 inhabitants, none of whom are over 5 1/2 feet. The entire town looks like a "lord of the rings" styled hobbit village, with tiny stone walkways, tiny houses with adjoining farming plots.
Our homestay was with a guy who declared himself to be the "tourism minister" for the island. I think somehow it was lost in translation from his native Quecha to Spanish to English.
He led us to this quaint adobe house, where he lived with his wife and four children. I had to bend double to get in any of the doorways. Fortunately the beds were normal size, and i took a short nap before lunch.
Lunch was a meagre affair; 1 egg, 3small potatos and a bowl of soup. I had to remind myself that i was "experiencing" and resisted the temptation to ask for more.
Later, our host insisted on showing us his new pants and tracksuit jacket and watch that he had been given by previous travellers who had stayed with him.... and tactfully wrote down his address "in case we wanted to get in touch".
Dinner was again small, potatos and rice affair, supplemented with slivers of fish for flavor. There was meant to be a party but it was rained out, and instead we sat inside and tried to teach the host´s son a bit of english - hard work, i think he was kind of simple.
I went to bed at 930 for lack of anything to do. These people led such simple lives. I felt bad for being bored, but soon forgot.
TAQUILE
Taquile was far more interesting, but for all the wrong reasons. We arrived at port, walked up a hill. saw some ruins. Ate lunch in a central plaza and had an unusually insightful lecture on the sexual politics of Taquile island, and Uros - the next island we were to visit.
He explained to us that both islands had a tradition of incest. On Taquile, he said, it was generally fathers with daughters, but on Uros, it was brothers with sisters. I felt sick. I and wanted to doubt him, but his explanation was quite similar in both Spanish and English.
ive done a google search but found nothing. i cant verify these claims, the people dont look particularly in-bred....
Anyway, with that in mind, i was more than happy to leave Taquile and be on the way back to Puno.
UROS
Uros was cool. Reeds grow 10m from the ocean floor. The islanders take these reeds and pile them in a criss-cross fashion to a thickness of around 1.5m. The people fish and sell it at the market for rice and potatos. They drink the water directly from titicaca and apparently dont suffer cholera becuase after every meal, they eat the lower part of the reed plant. Again cant verify.
After taking lots of photos, then being asked to pay 1sole (50cents) for each one, we motored back to puno´s port.
PUNO
back in puno. I found a wicked little bar last night with a dj who has an amazing soulful house collection. sat and drank baileys with my new friends Carmen and Alex. excellent.
going to the bolivian town of copacabana tomorrow. Im going to make an effor to get to the solar de uyuni,.. these massive salt plains in the south of bolivia. expecting more excitement. let you know how it goes.
cal
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
You only Live Once
Sometimes things just come together.
I´m in Puno, chilling on the internet
AND
New Kids On The Block´s "Step By Step" is playing on the radio.
I think im going to cry.
I´m in Puno, chilling on the internet
AND
New Kids On The Block´s "Step By Step" is playing on the radio.
I think im going to cry.
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
Puno is WEST of Titicaca
Hi gang!
Just arrived in Puno. Im already realizing that its remarkably cheaper than Cuzco... Ive hooked up a hostel single room with ensuite bathroom with HOT water, walking distance from the city for only $us4 per night. Rad.
Sad to leave Cuzco because i met some really beautiful people there. But as always, time to move on.
Its carnival time outside (no naked dancing girls like in Brazil), but the music is kind of nice and out the window of my internet cafe i can see 4 westerners in "North Face" jackets and big cameras slung around their necks. Its always good, security-wise, to know that somebody here looks much much richer than me!
By the way, Puno is on the WEST coast of Titicaca. Ive been telling everybody for the last week that its east. Some kids cant do left and right. I have trouble with east and west. Its hereditary.
Im hoping to spend a couple of days on an island in Titicaca, then my next major destination will be Uyuni for the salt plains (thanks to Evelyn for the recommendation). At present i have no f%$**n idea how im going to get there, so anybody with any ideas, feel free to contact me :)
Got to get something to eat.
love and happiness to all
Monday, February 07, 2005
I got Photos
4 hours of hard labour.
Check the photos.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/calinbrasil/
p.s. if ur wondering... Junglistposse is my (stage name)
Check the photos.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/calinbrasil/
p.s. if ur wondering... Junglistposse is my (stage name)
Inca Trail is Not So Bad
Hello there all.
Sorry for the vitriol from a couple of days ago.
To be honest, the inca trail was awesome. I really shouldnt complain. Got some great photos, met some fantastic people, am now amazingly fit. Ill write on it in a bit.
In addition, after 5 hours of debate yesterday, we managed to make our tour operator see that they were at fault and they refunded us some money - $us18 each. Its not the money its the principle! :)
(Many thanks to Sophie for being master interpreter)
We came, we saw, & we educated. How very imperialist.
Anyway, feeling very chilled right now. Im in my internet den - away from the water-bomb throwing fiends, (Its water-carnival time in cuzco right now), and Roxette is playing on the stereo.
Oh yeah, and ive finally recovered from a really annoying bout of diahorrhea. Many thanks to my dad for the array of drugs he sent with me!
Its going to be a short one again, cos im trying to upload the bulk of my photos to some internet share site. Will let youse know how that goes.
Off to Puno tomorrow. Will be hanging out on Lake Titicaca for a while, and hopefully onto Uyuni, which is some massive salt flat in Bolivia.
Love to you all
dont get diahorrhea cos it sucks. ass.
cal
Sorry for the vitriol from a couple of days ago.
To be honest, the inca trail was awesome. I really shouldnt complain. Got some great photos, met some fantastic people, am now amazingly fit. Ill write on it in a bit.
In addition, after 5 hours of debate yesterday, we managed to make our tour operator see that they were at fault and they refunded us some money - $us18 each. Its not the money its the principle! :)
(Many thanks to Sophie for being master interpreter)
We came, we saw, & we educated. How very imperialist.
Anyway, feeling very chilled right now. Im in my internet den - away from the water-bomb throwing fiends, (Its water-carnival time in cuzco right now), and Roxette is playing on the stereo.
Oh yeah, and ive finally recovered from a really annoying bout of diahorrhea. Many thanks to my dad for the array of drugs he sent with me!
Its going to be a short one again, cos im trying to upload the bulk of my photos to some internet share site. Will let youse know how that goes.
Off to Puno tomorrow. Will be hanging out on Lake Titicaca for a while, and hopefully onto Uyuni, which is some massive salt flat in Bolivia.
Love to you all
dont get diahorrhea cos it sucks. ass.
cal
Thursday, February 03, 2005
Fuckin Inca Trail
Fuck
Im Aussie. i can use fuck ... liberally.
Ive just returned from the Inca Trail and im fuckin pissed off.
The big picture is that im amazed that i have finally visited Machu Picchu, one of my childhood dreams. That ive been spellbound by the architectural elegance and the sheer intellect of the inca people.
The finer detail reveals, however, that im using dialup in an expensive little town at the base of Machu Picchu, instead of cable internet & hot showers & celebratory beers in my hostel in Cuzco (3.5 hrs away).
What happened?
My tour company didnt book us for the train back to cuzco. It left 2hrs ago. My tour guide is extremely intent on passing the buck. Id called the tourist agency and they have been less than helpful.
Yes, we have argued ourselves into a position where we have dinner, hostel overnight & breakfast tomorrow. But weve (cant find apostrophe key) had to fight for every last thing.
People here in Peru seem not to have heard of the principle of Bad Press. I, along with my unlucky compatriots, will educate them when return... Lonely Planet,.. Internet...
The whole trip actually, has been a comedy of errors, including the "gringos" in our tour group (us) being charged $60us extra, and the supposedly waterproof tents leaking miserably last night.
Yes. Education is the key.
Im looking forward to yelling. The only problem is that my carefully crafted argument in English will be lost on them, and my Spanish ability entitles me an intelligence quotient slightly higher than a 4-year-old.
Ill write more when ive calmed down a bit, fill you in on the aftermath, try and post some of the amazing photos ive taken & tell you about the GOOD THINGS that happened on my Inca Trail.
Lots of love to you all. Especially to those of you in melbourne experiencing all that crap weather!
Im Aussie. i can use fuck ... liberally.
Ive just returned from the Inca Trail and im fuckin pissed off.
The big picture is that im amazed that i have finally visited Machu Picchu, one of my childhood dreams. That ive been spellbound by the architectural elegance and the sheer intellect of the inca people.
The finer detail reveals, however, that im using dialup in an expensive little town at the base of Machu Picchu, instead of cable internet & hot showers & celebratory beers in my hostel in Cuzco (3.5 hrs away).
What happened?
My tour company didnt book us for the train back to cuzco. It left 2hrs ago. My tour guide is extremely intent on passing the buck. Id called the tourist agency and they have been less than helpful.
Yes, we have argued ourselves into a position where we have dinner, hostel overnight & breakfast tomorrow. But weve (cant find apostrophe key) had to fight for every last thing.
People here in Peru seem not to have heard of the principle of Bad Press. I, along with my unlucky compatriots, will educate them when return... Lonely Planet,.. Internet...
The whole trip actually, has been a comedy of errors, including the "gringos" in our tour group (us) being charged $60us extra, and the supposedly waterproof tents leaking miserably last night.
Yes. Education is the key.
Im looking forward to yelling. The only problem is that my carefully crafted argument in English will be lost on them, and my Spanish ability entitles me an intelligence quotient slightly higher than a 4-year-old.
Ill write more when ive calmed down a bit, fill you in on the aftermath, try and post some of the amazing photos ive taken & tell you about the GOOD THINGS that happened on my Inca Trail.
Lots of love to you all. Especially to those of you in melbourne experiencing all that crap weather!
Tuesday, January 25, 2005
Arrived in Peru - Phew
Cant believe two things:
1. NO MISHAP
I actually arrived in Peru without any major mishap, abduction, or jail sentence. However i was stopped at the Colombian airport and x-rayed for drugs. The soldiers thought i was some loser from the countryside pretending to be Australian.
I think they were all surprised to find that i didnt have anything in my stomach except... shit.
Better luck next time gang.
The taxi driver who picked me up at lima airport was a complete champion. Never mind that he was hassling me from the time i got out of customs, and i was trying to ignore him. We settled on a price before i got in the cab which was only a couple of $us more than the bus (thankyou lonely planet, i owe you my firstborn!). I was so relieved not to be robbed that i gave him a tip.
2. PASSABLE SPANISH
I can actually converse semi-fluently with people who dont talk too fast. never mind that i´m almost always talking in present tense becuase i cant (how do you say..) conjugate (?) my verbs... except for my favourite words
fui - i was
fue - you was
you can use them for any verb under the sun (i think). thank god.
I´ll give u a rundown on colombia when i can, but right now, i need a shower, a haircut and some deodorant. and maybe a disco nap!
p.s.
No photos today cos i havent taken any!
1. NO MISHAP
I actually arrived in Peru without any major mishap, abduction, or jail sentence. However i was stopped at the Colombian airport and x-rayed for drugs. The soldiers thought i was some loser from the countryside pretending to be Australian.
I think they were all surprised to find that i didnt have anything in my stomach except... shit.
Better luck next time gang.
The taxi driver who picked me up at lima airport was a complete champion. Never mind that he was hassling me from the time i got out of customs, and i was trying to ignore him. We settled on a price before i got in the cab which was only a couple of $us more than the bus (thankyou lonely planet, i owe you my firstborn!). I was so relieved not to be robbed that i gave him a tip.
2. PASSABLE SPANISH
I can actually converse semi-fluently with people who dont talk too fast. never mind that i´m almost always talking in present tense becuase i cant (how do you say..) conjugate (?) my verbs... except for my favourite words
fui - i was
fue - you was
you can use them for any verb under the sun (i think). thank god.
I´ll give u a rundown on colombia when i can, but right now, i need a shower, a haircut and some deodorant. and maybe a disco nap!
p.s.
No photos today cos i havent taken any!
Monday, January 24, 2005
Off To Peru
Hello fans.
Taking a short break from my pressurised humidity crib to write this (stardom can be so hard on the body).
Off to peru tomorrow. Leaving for the airport at 4am.
Really havent got much to say for myself.
Peace.
p.s. Happy Birthday Chris!
Blogs
I have this incredible urge to post a blog saying just "hello world". Its a disorder that i seem to have developed in first year university from exposure to too many lecturers who are still incredibly excited by the first words (um.."hello world") that were ever programmed into a computer.
(dont quote me on that im too lazy too look it up)
I still get nightmares from the ordeal. My first wife left me because she couldnt cope.
Yes well its done, i´ve written them and laid my demons to rest. Apologies to all of you who don´t have any f****n idea what im talking about - its a good thing. trust me.
****
Anyway, back to my main topic, which is blogs.
I think the original idea of a blog is that you´re meant to write on it kind of often. I havent. but i will.
I´ve just returned from this place called Paiper, a couple of hours drive from Bogota (colombia). It was cool. We went there a couple of weeks ago too.
Its a couple of hotels built around some natural springs. excellent. The hotels themselves are funded by some sort of governmenty-corporate thing. Whatever the arrangement is, its resulted in the place being f***n cheap.
I mean, a 3-course lunch today cost me... um.... $5. Soup. steak & fries. dessert. Serious proper food. Seriously, if you´re contemplating being poor, (in australian dollar terms of course) come to colombia. eat like a king.
One other vaguely interesting result of the governmenty-corporate arrangement, is that it lends the whole place a real communist vibe.
(DISCLAIMER: I know nothing about Communism, except that people march a lot, look the same & that its kind of not like Capitalism. encarta)
What do i mean by communist? Dunno. The place is even cheap by colombian standards - it seems to be an "everyman" type of venue. And everyman and his family really does seems to come here.
And on the topic of everyman, its time to begin our first lesson in spanish. The word of today is:
ÑERO (nee-yeah-ro) a. yobbo
I think it´s slang so those following my travels with the proper dedication (like all of u should be!) it wont be in your spanish dictionaries.
This hotel has lots of ñeros. I´d try and describe them but they´re all so different.... yet so the same, the whole world over. sigh
Communism. yes. so we have a hotel full of ñero´s and us cool people (we are very cool of course)... and what does everybody (i mean everybody) do at night?.. we go to the theatre where we sing Colombian national songs. Which are fantastic if they´re sung well and the musicians can actually play.
But when the musician is an untalented father with an ego problem who has his son strum chords while he plays all the tricky bits (poorly), who imagines he´s a virtuoso because he has a crappy keyboard with all those cheesy pre-programmed backbeats; Samba, Rhumba, da chi, da da chi, da da da da, and can play a melody over the top.. its just not cricket
However nobody there seemed to notice it wasnt cricket, because they were all too busy singing extra loud, in unison, with matching uniforms, and dreaming of the long march...
(Angry? - see my above disclaimer)
This is going nowhere fast. I think its time i went
Thanks for the comments, dedicated followers of my trip. Makes me feel quasi-famous.
Apologies for the swearing & my overuse of brackets.
Thursday, January 20, 2005
WELCOME TO MY BLOG MUCHACHOS!
Welcome to my blog.
Lets start with an aim (too many physics projects at uni!)
AIM:
To keep any of you who are interested, up to date with what im doing. I was going to do the whole travel email thing, but personally i hate it. Even when i am interested, it kind of tastes like spam. Sad but true.
This blog is an opportunity instead for all of you to tune in, whenever you feel like it, and have a laugh at whats going on around or through my head.
EQUIPMENT:
Now that´s over and done with, i will tell you, my beloved but distant audience, about my trip.
First, my title. Cal in Brasil. Yes i plagiarised it. Yes i will have photos, but no not of that kind! (section 2.2 of blogger´s terms and conditions prohibits it anyway :) )
I do have inspiration that is a little more above board, however.
I actually started quite young on this whole South America thing. 7 in fact. Me and my brother had become addicted to an animated cartoon named "Mysterious Cities of Gold".
It combined the precision of Japanese animation with the most incredible storyline about 3 kids in the 1500s who fly a golden condor, and sail a solar powered ship across South America in search of the fabled El Dorado – City of Gold.
Wicked.
Better still, each episode ended with a 5-minute archaeology documentary on the sites the children had visited in that episode.. machu picchu, nazca…
F****n Awesome!
TWO MOVIES AND A BOOK
When i was about 12, i read Erich von Daniken´s “Chariots of the Gods”. This guy´s a bit of an oddball, but at 12, his theories of alien visits to the Nazcas were incredibly convincing. Somehow, 15 yrs later and with supposedly a lot more intelligence, im still....curious.
The movies - these are probable the least pivotal of all my influences. At around the age of 15, me and my cousins watched two very b-grade movies "Blame It On Rio", and "Wild Orchid".
Not out of an interest in b-grade, but because they had the all-important ratings of V (violence) S (sex) and N (nudity).
Importantly, both films are set in Rio. And both films star really really hot 90s chicks who, throughout the entire movie are generally very naked. Wow.
This brief experience however, cemented a synaptic connection between hot nude girls and Brasil. The human brain is an amazing thing.
ACTUALLY… ONE MORE
Movie. "City of God". Watch it. Its amazing. Its in subtitles, but you soon realise that Brasilian Portuguese has to be the sexiest language in the whole World – even the geekiest guys sound like players.
Its a crazy story about a kid in Rio´s slums who wants to become a photographer, and through his eyes you witness the sénseless violence, cruelty and poverty in Rio de Janeiro.
Weird, but it made me want to go even more.
BEING A GOOD BOY
Actually, im going to be doing a volunteer Project with IkoPoran, based in Rio. I´ll be teaching street kids English and maybe photography. It sounds awesome. Check out the IkoPoran website. I´ve always wanted to be able to comunícate with people in such circumstances and learn about their lives, without putting myself in danger.
CONCLUSION AND FINDINGS
So here i am in Colombia, struggling with Spanish infinitives, eating too much, and welcoming you to my blog.
I hope you enjoy your day. Its been lovely spending time with youse :)
Monday, January 17, 2005
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