Time to dust off the passport again. In less than a month I'm heading off to Japan. Having just spent the last two weeks packing, moving, packing again, moving again, and then unpacking into my new apt, I've done very little planning. Should make for an interesting excursion. English and credit cards are rarely used outside of Tokyo. Or so I'm told. The only Japanese I know was used above.
Time for some fun!
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Friday, July 18, 2008
Just Discovered:
I need to travel. I was just looking through my pics of South America (especially the Bolivian salt flats) and decided I needed to see more. So I did. I went to Baños and the Pantanal. To the Galapagos and Patagonia (oh wait, I never posted those pics - sorry). What is clear is I need to plan another trip.
Hint: last visitor I had in DC helped me plot a course from Alaska in February going West (to the east). We planned 18 months. I'd be happy with 8.
Hint: last visitor I had in DC helped me plot a course from Alaska in February going West (to the east). We planned 18 months. I'd be happy with 8.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Let's Cross Another Border
After a day of meeting everyone around the world during a soccer game and many post-drinks, it was time to move on to my fifth country on the road: Argentina - via the Iguazu Falls border. I woke up at 7am and ran to the shower (after packing everything I had with a headlamp). Shower, dress, breakfast. Most of it in the dark because I didn't want to wake my still slumbering (probably still drunk) roommates in the dorm room.
The hostel's tour bus (with wooden park benches for seats) to the Argentine side was packed. I quickly made friends with a foursome of Australians in the back who were the only other people on the bus planning to stay in Argentina. Our bus driver was a clever one: making jokes about the guys all getting off to do passport duty while he stayed on with "our" women. This joke was repeated no less than a dozen times as we made our way to the border.
When we did arrive at the border, he insisted we hand over or passports and he would handle the bureaucratic business that was about to ensue. The entire bus reluctantly handed over the official documents that would get us from country to country. An hour later, he returned with our passports and we all crossed without leaving the comfort of the vehicle. Bless him.
The falls on the Argentine side were a little more personable than they were on the Brazilian side. Trails took people down into the falls, to boats that took people deep into the falls, to food stands. I spent hours with the Australians, without them, exploring all this side had to offer (having money this time). The Australians were a funky bunch. When I did lose them, I took pictures and ate pizza. When I found them, I took pictures with them and listen to them praise the glory that is Australian pop culture. It was a full day - and a wet one; having initially taken a boat out under the falls, our clothes were soaked much of the rest of the day.
The bus driver asked where he could drop the five of us off on his way back to the Brazilian hostel. I offered that I wanted to be in the center of town - in the morning I needed to get to the airport to fly to Buenos Aires. The four Australians agreed and we were dropped in front of a hostel I found in my guide book. It was full. We slugged our bags up the street to a different hostel. It was full too. Two blocks over we found two more hostels that were full. We split up - me and one of the guys, the two gals and the other guy - and went looking for any available room as we cursed the weight of our backpacks. Everything was booked solid. This was one of those times I should have called ahead. The Australian and I found a hotel near the main road with an available double for around $80. We took it immediately, hoping the others had some luck. The hotel was luxury - at least compared to the kind of places I had been staying in.
We happily dropped our bags and went looking for the others. They had found a newly opened room for four in a hostel up the street. The Australian dude decided he wanted a bit of luxury and said he was going to stay in the hotel. After much needed showers and clean clothes, we all headed out in search of food. My first Argentine steak? No. My first Argentine glass of wine? Yes. We ordered large pizzas on the outdoor patio seating and listened to the traditional live band playing. My cohorts turned out to be much younger than I thought: 22. I turned out to be much older than they thought. But it didn't stop us from enjoying our first night in Argentina.
We attempted to do drinks afterwards at their hostel bar, but I couldn't keep my eyes open. The three hours of sleep from the previous night had caught up with me. And so, at 11pm, I excused myself and promised to meet up with them all in Buenos Aires - then headed back to the hotel. I was out immediately. In 12 hours I would be in Buenos Aires...
To see pics of my time at Iguazu, follow this link:
http://flickr.com/photos/15233918@N00/sets/72157603820470641/
The hostel's tour bus (with wooden park benches for seats) to the Argentine side was packed. I quickly made friends with a foursome of Australians in the back who were the only other people on the bus planning to stay in Argentina. Our bus driver was a clever one: making jokes about the guys all getting off to do passport duty while he stayed on with "our" women. This joke was repeated no less than a dozen times as we made our way to the border.
When we did arrive at the border, he insisted we hand over or passports and he would handle the bureaucratic business that was about to ensue. The entire bus reluctantly handed over the official documents that would get us from country to country. An hour later, he returned with our passports and we all crossed without leaving the comfort of the vehicle. Bless him.
The falls on the Argentine side were a little more personable than they were on the Brazilian side. Trails took people down into the falls, to boats that took people deep into the falls, to food stands. I spent hours with the Australians, without them, exploring all this side had to offer (having money this time). The Australians were a funky bunch. When I did lose them, I took pictures and ate pizza. When I found them, I took pictures with them and listen to them praise the glory that is Australian pop culture. It was a full day - and a wet one; having initially taken a boat out under the falls, our clothes were soaked much of the rest of the day.
The bus driver asked where he could drop the five of us off on his way back to the Brazilian hostel. I offered that I wanted to be in the center of town - in the morning I needed to get to the airport to fly to Buenos Aires. The four Australians agreed and we were dropped in front of a hostel I found in my guide book. It was full. We slugged our bags up the street to a different hostel. It was full too. Two blocks over we found two more hostels that were full. We split up - me and one of the guys, the two gals and the other guy - and went looking for any available room as we cursed the weight of our backpacks. Everything was booked solid. This was one of those times I should have called ahead. The Australian and I found a hotel near the main road with an available double for around $80. We took it immediately, hoping the others had some luck. The hotel was luxury - at least compared to the kind of places I had been staying in.
We happily dropped our bags and went looking for the others. They had found a newly opened room for four in a hostel up the street. The Australian dude decided he wanted a bit of luxury and said he was going to stay in the hotel. After much needed showers and clean clothes, we all headed out in search of food. My first Argentine steak? No. My first Argentine glass of wine? Yes. We ordered large pizzas on the outdoor patio seating and listened to the traditional live band playing. My cohorts turned out to be much younger than I thought: 22. I turned out to be much older than they thought. But it didn't stop us from enjoying our first night in Argentina.
We attempted to do drinks afterwards at their hostel bar, but I couldn't keep my eyes open. The three hours of sleep from the previous night had caught up with me. And so, at 11pm, I excused myself and promised to meet up with them all in Buenos Aires - then headed back to the hotel. I was out immediately. In 12 hours I would be in Buenos Aires...
To see pics of my time at Iguazu, follow this link:
http://flickr.com/photos/15233918@N00/sets/72157603820470641/
Meeting of the UN
OK, back to the four month trip through South America. Sorry for the month long delay.
At the border of Brazil and Argentina, after my long nap at the resort-like hostel, I decided to spend the remainder of the day checking out the Brazilian side of the falls at Iguazu. The people at the hostel's front desk pointed out a bus stop in front of the building where I could pick up transportation to the main road and to the bus going to the falls. The bus was two dollars. No mistakes this time.
When I arrived at the Brazilian side of the falls, I found a large complex with thousands of people roaming the grounds. I immediately went looking for the ATM the hostel employees told me would be here. There was one there. But it wouldn't accept my card. Brazil was really starting to annoy me. I had $10, enough to get me in to see the falls, but not enough to get me back to the hostel. What to do? Chance it.
After I paid my way in, I went looking for the buses to the falls. On board the only open seat was next to an Israeli named Yonatan, traveling through South America after fulfilling his conscription duties. He had found a map of the area and thus had me following him around the park the rest of the afternoon. The Brazilian side of the falls offers the "grand overview" (where the Argentine side allows you to see the falls up close). It didn't take very long to see everything there was to see. Thankfully because with the humidity here it felt like Savannah, GA, in June. Yonatan and I snapped pictures and dodged the throngs of tourists there. You know all the white trash that clutter most theme parks? That is not a U.S. phenomenon. Theme parks in Brazil bring the scaries out too.
The Falls were pretty amazing. And at one part of the trail, the path went right out over the water to get a close up view of one of the many falls. The water spray was a source of excitement and refreshment for everyone looking to cool down a bit. After taking it all in, Yonatan and I made our way back to the bus stop. The Israeli had flown in on his way to Rio and had a layover for a few hours - deciding to make the most of it by seeing the falls. I told him my predicament about no bus fare and he told me the airport had several ATMs. He gave me two dollars to get to the airport and there I found six ATMs, only one of which would accept my card. What is it with Brazilian ATMs?? With money to pay for the hostel and my fare back, I thanked Yonatan and went back to catch the bus.
It was 5pm when I arrived at the hostel. The "community" dinner I signed up for wouldn't be served until 8pm. So I hit the bar by the pool. Here I met everyone. It started with two French-Canadians. Then an Brit and his Venezuelan girlfriend (gf for the time they were at the hostel). Then a Mexican, followed by three guys from Norway juggling a soccer ball between themselves. It was that trio that started the World Cup game in the hostel's large, lighted soccer field. They recruited as many of us at the pool as they could. Soon 19 of us were walking out onto the field to start a game. After two people were deemed captains, players were picked from a line up. Amazingly I wasn't picked last. If only they knew how well I played.
The game was fun, fast paced, and exhausting. As the only U.S. citizen on the field, I wish I could say I represented us well. I wish I could say that I brought us honor and praise. I wish I could have run for longer than a few minutes at a time without falling back on defense to catch my breath. I gave it my all - about 20% of what everyone else seemed to have. And I played for a solid hour and a half. Then the teams started to fall apart (thankfully) and people left for dinner. Suddenly our team had three more layers than the other team and I used this as my excuse to sit out and watch. And hyperventilate.
I cheered from the sidelines - until two Australians walked into the game. Then I was suddenly needed again. I stood up, stretched, did a half turn, and walked to dinner. Go Team U.S.A.
That night went well beyond dinner as people ultimately shuffled back out to the pool bar. The soccer players were all there, as were several of the "fans". I found a table with some of the original peeps I met when I first came to the bar. We chatted for hours - A Portuguese guy, the two French Canadians, the Mexican, the Brit, and Japanese gal. Round after round of drinks arrived at our table seemingly without request. When I was sufficiently intoxicated, around 4am, someone reminded me that the tour of the Argentine side of the falls left at 8am. This meeting of world partners was done. It was time for 3 hours of sleep - packing would wait until the morning.
To see pics of my time at Iguazu, follow this link:
http://flickr.com/photos/15233918@N00/sets/72157603820470641/
At the border of Brazil and Argentina, after my long nap at the resort-like hostel, I decided to spend the remainder of the day checking out the Brazilian side of the falls at Iguazu. The people at the hostel's front desk pointed out a bus stop in front of the building where I could pick up transportation to the main road and to the bus going to the falls. The bus was two dollars. No mistakes this time.
When I arrived at the Brazilian side of the falls, I found a large complex with thousands of people roaming the grounds. I immediately went looking for the ATM the hostel employees told me would be here. There was one there. But it wouldn't accept my card. Brazil was really starting to annoy me. I had $10, enough to get me in to see the falls, but not enough to get me back to the hostel. What to do? Chance it.
After I paid my way in, I went looking for the buses to the falls. On board the only open seat was next to an Israeli named Yonatan, traveling through South America after fulfilling his conscription duties. He had found a map of the area and thus had me following him around the park the rest of the afternoon. The Brazilian side of the falls offers the "grand overview" (where the Argentine side allows you to see the falls up close). It didn't take very long to see everything there was to see. Thankfully because with the humidity here it felt like Savannah, GA, in June. Yonatan and I snapped pictures and dodged the throngs of tourists there. You know all the white trash that clutter most theme parks? That is not a U.S. phenomenon. Theme parks in Brazil bring the scaries out too.
The Falls were pretty amazing. And at one part of the trail, the path went right out over the water to get a close up view of one of the many falls. The water spray was a source of excitement and refreshment for everyone looking to cool down a bit. After taking it all in, Yonatan and I made our way back to the bus stop. The Israeli had flown in on his way to Rio and had a layover for a few hours - deciding to make the most of it by seeing the falls. I told him my predicament about no bus fare and he told me the airport had several ATMs. He gave me two dollars to get to the airport and there I found six ATMs, only one of which would accept my card. What is it with Brazilian ATMs?? With money to pay for the hostel and my fare back, I thanked Yonatan and went back to catch the bus.
It was 5pm when I arrived at the hostel. The "community" dinner I signed up for wouldn't be served until 8pm. So I hit the bar by the pool. Here I met everyone. It started with two French-Canadians. Then an Brit and his Venezuelan girlfriend (gf for the time they were at the hostel). Then a Mexican, followed by three guys from Norway juggling a soccer ball between themselves. It was that trio that started the World Cup game in the hostel's large, lighted soccer field. They recruited as many of us at the pool as they could. Soon 19 of us were walking out onto the field to start a game. After two people were deemed captains, players were picked from a line up. Amazingly I wasn't picked last. If only they knew how well I played.
The game was fun, fast paced, and exhausting. As the only U.S. citizen on the field, I wish I could say I represented us well. I wish I could say that I brought us honor and praise. I wish I could have run for longer than a few minutes at a time without falling back on defense to catch my breath. I gave it my all - about 20% of what everyone else seemed to have. And I played for a solid hour and a half. Then the teams started to fall apart (thankfully) and people left for dinner. Suddenly our team had three more layers than the other team and I used this as my excuse to sit out and watch. And hyperventilate.
I cheered from the sidelines - until two Australians walked into the game. Then I was suddenly needed again. I stood up, stretched, did a half turn, and walked to dinner. Go Team U.S.A.
That night went well beyond dinner as people ultimately shuffled back out to the pool bar. The soccer players were all there, as were several of the "fans". I found a table with some of the original peeps I met when I first came to the bar. We chatted for hours - A Portuguese guy, the two French Canadians, the Mexican, the Brit, and Japanese gal. Round after round of drinks arrived at our table seemingly without request. When I was sufficiently intoxicated, around 4am, someone reminded me that the tour of the Argentine side of the falls left at 8am. This meeting of world partners was done. It was time for 3 hours of sleep - packing would wait until the morning.
To see pics of my time at Iguazu, follow this link:
http://flickr.com/photos/15233918@N00/sets/72157603820470641/
Sunday, April 6, 2008
WTF?
What happened? In the second half, when UNC came roaring back, that was the team I've come to expect would win the tournament. But what was going on during that first half? And then in the final five minutes? I don't know who that team was. Davidson put on a more valiant effort. UNC should be embarrassed. Really. I'm embarrassed. I was the most vocal person at the bar tonight. All for not. We lost, and we lost bad. If they lost by a few points, I wouldn't care. At least we played hard. But we didn't.
So now i sit back and wait to see what Lawson & Hansbrough do. Do they leave for the NBA? That would make sense. Or do they stay for another year in hopes of getting that ring? I would expect no less. But here's hoping.
Ugh. Seven months without sports. I hate it.
So now i sit back and wait to see what Lawson & Hansbrough do. Do they leave for the NBA? That would make sense. Or do they stay for another year in hopes of getting that ring? I would expect no less. But here's hoping.
Ugh. Seven months without sports. I hate it.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
78 degrees
Tomorrow in Buenos Aires, Argentina, the weather is supposed to be 78˚F and mostly sunny. In DC? 67˚F and rainy. A change from today's high of 54˚, but...*sigh*
I know these weather patterns will flip in a few months. But right now seeing the differences just make me nostalgic for my traveling days. Granted, two months ago to the date I was sailing around the peninsula of Antarctica and freezing my arse off. But at least I was outside. Now I spend five days a week in an office with no windows. This is just going to get harder as spring rolls in and turns to summer.
As a teaser I am flying down to St Maarten in the Virgin Islands next Friday morning for a few days of vacation. I know, I know. Vacation?? Do I even have any vacation time off? Surprisingly I do. And I am using it to leave the country. Again. Can't wait to go through customs again! Is that weird?
I know these weather patterns will flip in a few months. But right now seeing the differences just make me nostalgic for my traveling days. Granted, two months ago to the date I was sailing around the peninsula of Antarctica and freezing my arse off. But at least I was outside. Now I spend five days a week in an office with no windows. This is just going to get harder as spring rolls in and turns to summer.
As a teaser I am flying down to St Maarten in the Virgin Islands next Friday morning for a few days of vacation. I know, I know. Vacation?? Do I even have any vacation time off? Surprisingly I do. And I am using it to leave the country. Again. Can't wait to go through customs again! Is that weird?
Monday, March 31, 2008
Making My Way Back To Spanish
Crossing back into the land of Spanish speakers required an all-night bus to the border of Brazil and Argentina. When I returned to Campo Grande after my four days in the Pantanal, I immediately trotted over to the office where I signed up for my tour. I was hoping to leave my pack there for an hour or so while I bought a bus ticket and checked my email. I looked through the glass door and saw the same girl who sold me the trek google chatting with friends. I asked her if I could leave my bag. She sighed and said the office closed an hour ago and she was just chatting with friends.
I mentioned the many power outages that happened back at the camp and said I wanted a $100 refund. That got her attention. I told her I was only kidding, but I don't think she fully believed me. Suddenly she was offering to escort me to a ticket counter and be my translator to buy my ticket to Iguazu - my next destination.
Once I had my ticket in hand, the tour gal asked if I wanted to get some dinner - her treat. I agreed to dinner, but knowing she was a single mom I said I would pay. She took me to a grill out in front of the bus station where a guy was cooking up strips of beef and chicken. Five bucks bought us a few strips of beef on sticks and a Fanta each. She asked if I wanted to stick around for the night and go out clubbing - saying she wanted to make up for the power outages by showing me a real Brazilian night out. My bus was leaving in 20 mins so I told her I would take a rain check. I was behind by several days and needed to get to Buenos Aires - so I gave her a hug and thanked her for the efforts. Twenty five minutes later I was onboard the bus, fully reclined, and watching Little Man in Portuguese.
When I woke up 7 hours later I was in a small city about an hour from Iguazu. The bus driver motioned (he only spoke Portuguese) that I was to get off here and wait two hours for a bus to Iguazu. First order of business? Find a bathroom and brush my teeth. I forgot I was still in Brazil as the area seemed a bit more upscale. When the Jehovah's Witnesses approached me and asked if I had found Jesus in Portuguese, I quickly remembered where I was. I watched the custodians sweep the same floor three times before, at 6am, I was on another bus to Iguazu.
I woke up about an hour later in Iguazu - on the Brazilian side. My guidebook suggested I take the city bus to the main bus terminal in the center of town. That would cost a dollar where a cab would cost around $10. I was all for saving money. Except I had no idea how the buses worked. I paid my fare when I boarded but got into an argument 10 minutes later when the fare collector suggested I go past his gate and sit down and then asked for the fare again. Not knowing any Portuguese, and he, not knowing any Spanish or English, we argued in our separate languages for a few minutes until he got frustrated and just ignored me. And then I pleaded in broken Spanish that he let me know when we hit the bus station. He chuckled and ignored me again. Fortunately bus stations are pretty obvious. Unfortunately my bag was still sitting at his feet.
After pleading with the fare guy for several minutes he tossed my bag out of the bus. I gathered it and went looking for a cab. I found the cab from "The Fresh Prince of Bel Air". Seriously, it had dice in the mirror. If anything, I would say this cab was rare, but I thought nothing of it and said "yo home to....um, my hostel".
He wanted to practice his Spanish and English. I tried. It was good to hear Spanish again. Despite what he told me, his Spanish was really good. I couldn't keep up. And so I told him for the rest of the cab ride I would teach him English.
I arrived at my hostel a few minutes later. It was a resort. There was a pool with a full bar. Ping pong and fooseball tables. A garden with hammocks and lawn chairs. And a soccer field and basket ball court with lighting. To bring me back in they showed me to my dorm bed. I dropped my stuff, took a shower, signed up for a tour of the falls and took a long nap. A looong nap.
There was still much to be done that day....
To see pics of my time at Iguazu, follow this link:
http://flickr.com/photos/15233918@N00/sets/72157603820470641/
I mentioned the many power outages that happened back at the camp and said I wanted a $100 refund. That got her attention. I told her I was only kidding, but I don't think she fully believed me. Suddenly she was offering to escort me to a ticket counter and be my translator to buy my ticket to Iguazu - my next destination.
Once I had my ticket in hand, the tour gal asked if I wanted to get some dinner - her treat. I agreed to dinner, but knowing she was a single mom I said I would pay. She took me to a grill out in front of the bus station where a guy was cooking up strips of beef and chicken. Five bucks bought us a few strips of beef on sticks and a Fanta each. She asked if I wanted to stick around for the night and go out clubbing - saying she wanted to make up for the power outages by showing me a real Brazilian night out. My bus was leaving in 20 mins so I told her I would take a rain check. I was behind by several days and needed to get to Buenos Aires - so I gave her a hug and thanked her for the efforts. Twenty five minutes later I was onboard the bus, fully reclined, and watching Little Man in Portuguese.
When I woke up 7 hours later I was in a small city about an hour from Iguazu. The bus driver motioned (he only spoke Portuguese) that I was to get off here and wait two hours for a bus to Iguazu. First order of business? Find a bathroom and brush my teeth. I forgot I was still in Brazil as the area seemed a bit more upscale. When the Jehovah's Witnesses approached me and asked if I had found Jesus in Portuguese, I quickly remembered where I was. I watched the custodians sweep the same floor three times before, at 6am, I was on another bus to Iguazu.
I woke up about an hour later in Iguazu - on the Brazilian side. My guidebook suggested I take the city bus to the main bus terminal in the center of town. That would cost a dollar where a cab would cost around $10. I was all for saving money. Except I had no idea how the buses worked. I paid my fare when I boarded but got into an argument 10 minutes later when the fare collector suggested I go past his gate and sit down and then asked for the fare again. Not knowing any Portuguese, and he, not knowing any Spanish or English, we argued in our separate languages for a few minutes until he got frustrated and just ignored me. And then I pleaded in broken Spanish that he let me know when we hit the bus station. He chuckled and ignored me again. Fortunately bus stations are pretty obvious. Unfortunately my bag was still sitting at his feet.
After pleading with the fare guy for several minutes he tossed my bag out of the bus. I gathered it and went looking for a cab. I found the cab from "The Fresh Prince of Bel Air". Seriously, it had dice in the mirror. If anything, I would say this cab was rare, but I thought nothing of it and said "yo home to....um, my hostel".
He wanted to practice his Spanish and English. I tried. It was good to hear Spanish again. Despite what he told me, his Spanish was really good. I couldn't keep up. And so I told him for the rest of the cab ride I would teach him English.
I arrived at my hostel a few minutes later. It was a resort. There was a pool with a full bar. Ping pong and fooseball tables. A garden with hammocks and lawn chairs. And a soccer field and basket ball court with lighting. To bring me back in they showed me to my dorm bed. I dropped my stuff, took a shower, signed up for a tour of the falls and took a long nap. A looong nap.
There was still much to be done that day....
To see pics of my time at Iguazu, follow this link:
http://flickr.com/photos/15233918@N00/sets/72157603820470641/
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Catching Up
Where are all the stories I said I was going to post? Good question. They're coming. I've had a rough week and it spilled over into the weekend. 31 has not been such a great year so far. But I plan to post more stories this week. At least of my first few days in Argentina. I'm still waiting on some peeps to send me their pics of Antarctica before I post those stories (my pics aren't so great).
Anyway, while you're waiting, check out Cat Power's (Chan Marshal) new album, Jukebox. Go for the deluxe edition if you get it on iTunes. It's been a staple for me for the past five days. Good stuff.
Anyway, while you're waiting, check out Cat Power's (Chan Marshal) new album, Jukebox. Go for the deluxe edition if you get it on iTunes. It's been a staple for me for the past five days. Good stuff.
Monday, March 24, 2008
*yawn*
So this is thirty one? My birthday is today and I turned thirty one. Thirty wasn't so bad. Felt like I was still close to my twenties. But thirty one? I'm clearly in my thirties now. No looking back - my vision is so bad now I couldn't see back that far anyway. Looking in the bathroom mirror this morning before my shower I noticed I am starting to look my age. But that could just be a result of my Saturday bar craw from two in the afternoon until three in the morning.
Either way, I do feel older. Welcome to my 30s.
Either way, I do feel older. Welcome to my 30s.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Quiet Time in the Pantanal
My time on the farm in the Pantanal was a bit lonely. After the first night with the Australians, Germans, and Mario, the traveling hippie Brazilian, I was the sole guest at the farm. When I woke up on the first morning I was told the Australians had already left. Mario and the Germans were going on a horse ride before their departure at 11am. Since the horse ride was the only activity that morning I joined them.
I've only ridden a horse once before - when I was 14. I wasn't exactly thrilled with jumping on one that morning but what else was I going to do? Fortunately it was a small horse and seemingly calm. As we rode into the tall grass my horse was determined to stay behind the other horses. I would tap him occasionally to get him to catch up with the others, which he did, only to fall behind again a few minutes later. It wasn't until an hour later, when we were out of the tall grass and on a dirt path, that he decided we wanted to lead the pack.
Along with the Germans there were two girls from Smith College in Massachusetts, both clearly had experience with horses. As we hit the dirt trail they broke into a gallop ahead of the rest of us. It was at this point that my horse decided to test my meddle. He (maybe she?) broke into a quick gallop after the two horses the Americans were riding, with me holding on with all the energy I could muster at nine in the morning. It was thrilling - considering the one time I had ridden a horse before I did nothing more than walk it a few paces. It was also very scary. I had no idea how to get him to slow down. I pulled back on the reigns and that slowed him down a bit. But as soon as I released them he galloped off again after the two lead horses, with me bouncing hard on the saddle. I regretted wearing the thin pants I had put on that morning instead of my jeans (variety in travel attire is over-rated). He kept me in the lead for the rest of our ride, never letting another horse pass without a race ensuing.
When we returned to the farm - and my feet to solid ground - I headed to the shower, gingerly washing my newly chafed legs. The Germans, Mario, and the Smith girls hopped into the big truck to head back to the bus stop. Suddenly it was just me as the sole guest on the farm. I talked to the guide about what activities he had planned for the next three days and also asked if any other guests were coming. A few might be coming in tomorrow, he said.
They never came. For the next three days it was just me on the farm. The family (owners) didn't speak English, and only a little Spanish, so they pretty much left me alone, having nothing to say to me. The cook would ask me questions as she served me my meals. But I had no idea what she was saying and would just smile and nod or shrug my shoulders and mutter something in Spanish. I looked forward to each day's activities just so I could converse with someone; even if guide's English left much to be desired, it was better than not talking at all. That afternoon after everyone left I hung out in the hammocks until the guide took me out to the river for my first solo activity: piranha fishing.
I was really excited about this; the one thing I wanted to do in the Pantanal was catch a piranha. Even when I turned to find my guide shoulder deep in the same river we were going to fish for the piranhas, my excitement only paused for a minute. When he assured me the piranhas would only bite if I was bleeding, I reluctantly and cautiously made my way towards the center of the river. I caught six piranhas - two of which my guide deemed large enough to keep for dinner that night. The other four he took off my hook (I refused to put my fingers anywhere near them) and casually tossed them in the water in front of me. I cringed each time he did this, waiting for a now agitated monster fish to start gnawing at my mid section.
My piranha dinner that night - two fried fish and a soup - didn't quite live up to the hype. But it was a welcome change to the constant rice and beans. After dinner I played a quiet game of ping pong with the owner's son - neither of us able to say anything to the other. And then to bed early.
The next day it was pouring when I woke up. But that didn't keep my guide from taking me on my morning's activity: a walk into the jungle. With the rain we didn't see much. There were a few monkeys and raccoon-like animals. But mostly I swatted at the ridiculous number of mosquitoes and tried to keep my camera dry. It was cool to watch my jungle guide swinging his machete back and forth at branches and low hanging vines.
For the rest of the time on the farm I did a small boat ride down the river, looking for more animals and then a "safari" ride at dawn down a dirt road. The upside is this time I was able to take pictures of all the animals I saw during my trip to Costa Rica a few years ago, when my camera broke and had to rely on my friends photos. But it was mostly just a chance for me to relax for a few days on a farm in Brazil - something to do as I crossed from Bolivia to Argentina. It wasn't until about an hour before I was to leave that the guide and his English speaking wife sat down with me and chatted me up; my first full conversation since I had been in Brazil.
That afternoon of my fourth day on the farm I was driven back to the mosquito-infested bus stop, on the way passing a truck full of guests on their way to the farm. All of them were apparently from Australia and England - and didn't speak a word of Portuguese.
To see pics of my time in Brazil, follow this link:
http://flickr.com/photos/15233918@N00/sets/72157603948681054/
I've only ridden a horse once before - when I was 14. I wasn't exactly thrilled with jumping on one that morning but what else was I going to do? Fortunately it was a small horse and seemingly calm. As we rode into the tall grass my horse was determined to stay behind the other horses. I would tap him occasionally to get him to catch up with the others, which he did, only to fall behind again a few minutes later. It wasn't until an hour later, when we were out of the tall grass and on a dirt path, that he decided we wanted to lead the pack.
Along with the Germans there were two girls from Smith College in Massachusetts, both clearly had experience with horses. As we hit the dirt trail they broke into a gallop ahead of the rest of us. It was at this point that my horse decided to test my meddle. He (maybe she?) broke into a quick gallop after the two horses the Americans were riding, with me holding on with all the energy I could muster at nine in the morning. It was thrilling - considering the one time I had ridden a horse before I did nothing more than walk it a few paces. It was also very scary. I had no idea how to get him to slow down. I pulled back on the reigns and that slowed him down a bit. But as soon as I released them he galloped off again after the two lead horses, with me bouncing hard on the saddle. I regretted wearing the thin pants I had put on that morning instead of my jeans (variety in travel attire is over-rated). He kept me in the lead for the rest of our ride, never letting another horse pass without a race ensuing.
When we returned to the farm - and my feet to solid ground - I headed to the shower, gingerly washing my newly chafed legs. The Germans, Mario, and the Smith girls hopped into the big truck to head back to the bus stop. Suddenly it was just me as the sole guest on the farm. I talked to the guide about what activities he had planned for the next three days and also asked if any other guests were coming. A few might be coming in tomorrow, he said.
They never came. For the next three days it was just me on the farm. The family (owners) didn't speak English, and only a little Spanish, so they pretty much left me alone, having nothing to say to me. The cook would ask me questions as she served me my meals. But I had no idea what she was saying and would just smile and nod or shrug my shoulders and mutter something in Spanish. I looked forward to each day's activities just so I could converse with someone; even if guide's English left much to be desired, it was better than not talking at all. That afternoon after everyone left I hung out in the hammocks until the guide took me out to the river for my first solo activity: piranha fishing.
I was really excited about this; the one thing I wanted to do in the Pantanal was catch a piranha. Even when I turned to find my guide shoulder deep in the same river we were going to fish for the piranhas, my excitement only paused for a minute. When he assured me the piranhas would only bite if I was bleeding, I reluctantly and cautiously made my way towards the center of the river. I caught six piranhas - two of which my guide deemed large enough to keep for dinner that night. The other four he took off my hook (I refused to put my fingers anywhere near them) and casually tossed them in the water in front of me. I cringed each time he did this, waiting for a now agitated monster fish to start gnawing at my mid section.
My piranha dinner that night - two fried fish and a soup - didn't quite live up to the hype. But it was a welcome change to the constant rice and beans. After dinner I played a quiet game of ping pong with the owner's son - neither of us able to say anything to the other. And then to bed early.
The next day it was pouring when I woke up. But that didn't keep my guide from taking me on my morning's activity: a walk into the jungle. With the rain we didn't see much. There were a few monkeys and raccoon-like animals. But mostly I swatted at the ridiculous number of mosquitoes and tried to keep my camera dry. It was cool to watch my jungle guide swinging his machete back and forth at branches and low hanging vines.
For the rest of the time on the farm I did a small boat ride down the river, looking for more animals and then a "safari" ride at dawn down a dirt road. The upside is this time I was able to take pictures of all the animals I saw during my trip to Costa Rica a few years ago, when my camera broke and had to rely on my friends photos. But it was mostly just a chance for me to relax for a few days on a farm in Brazil - something to do as I crossed from Bolivia to Argentina. It wasn't until about an hour before I was to leave that the guide and his English speaking wife sat down with me and chatted me up; my first full conversation since I had been in Brazil.
That afternoon of my fourth day on the farm I was driven back to the mosquito-infested bus stop, on the way passing a truck full of guests on their way to the farm. All of them were apparently from Australia and England - and didn't speak a word of Portuguese.
To see pics of my time in Brazil, follow this link:
http://flickr.com/photos/15233918@N00/sets/72157603948681054/
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