A Long Trip

I'm back!  I took a break to go to Nashville to visit my sister and attend a ballerina party for my 3 year old niece.  Good times! 

My other sister came down from Massachusetts, and we had a great time hanging out.  It's always good to get home though, and I loved sleeping in my own bed last night.  I missed writing so much while I was away.  I felt a little directionless.  Now, I have to start revisions on work number one.  Today is the day to begin.  I am a little overwhelmed by the thought of this, but I know I can do it! 

While in Nashville, my sister Kels and I ran around the Greenway.  It's a 3 mile run.  The first time, I did it with minimal walking.  I DO NOT LIKE HILLS!  We don't really have hills in Alabama, and the hills killed me.  The first day we did the run in 32 minutes.  We skipped the next day, and then tried to go Thursday, but my shin was killing me (on my left foot), and I overcompensated by turned my foot a little bit.  So when I go to 1.5 miles, I stopped and let Kels go on without me.  I walked fast, and I still made the 3 miles in 38 minutes, so not bad.  Then I came back to Ali's house, and iced my leg.  I think running is out for two weeks, so I can try to heal it. In the meantime, I'm going to go to taekwondo, work on my strength training and walk.  I'm disappointed, because I was really getting to the point where longer distances were becoming much easier for me.  I'm still going to run the 5K in April.  I just need to let my leg rest, and then hopefully hit the ground running again (pun intended). 

We had an absolutely amazing time in Nashville though.  The twins have grown by leaps and bounds, and they filled the weekend with their smiles and laughter.  The ballerina birthday party was fantastic.  The little girls were so cute in their tutus. 

Number Two and I were able to escape one day and go to the movies.  We saw "Escape from Planet Earth," which was actually better than I expected it to be.  Kels and I took the little ones down to Vanderbilt on a freezing cold day and then we ate SATCO, which Number Two refused to eat because he was obsessing about Subway.  Big Daddy ended up taking him to Subway when we got back to Ali's house.  It was nice being with my sisters and my Mom and Dad, despite the fact that all the kids were just loud and noisy most of the time!  We missed my brother though.  It would have been nice to have EVERYONE all together. 

Darling Daughter and my sister's daughter get along splendidly.  I can't even believe how well they share and how sweet they are to each other.  My Dad described Number Two and my sister's oldest son as a pack of wolves!  I think that was a great description!

Hit the Road

I'm leaving for Nashville in about three hours with the Littles.  I was going to run this morning, but it is FREEZING cold. Yes, I'm making excuses.  Plus, I haven't packed yet.  I'm always procrastinating packing and cleaning.  Those are the two things I can't stop procrastinating about! 

I'm excited to go to Nashville and spend time with my sisters and my Mom (and my Dad too).  I can't wait to see how much the twins have grown and see my other niece and nephew.  My niece is having a ballerina party today, and I can't wait to see all the little girls in their tutus!

I'm also glad this is my last trip in the forseeable future.  I've been traveling too much lately, with meet season, and seeing the twins, and I'm ready to spend some weekends at home: resting and writing and spending time with the family.  I've always liked traveling, but there is a limit to how much I like it!

The coffee is still brewing, and I'm in bad need of it.  I had a major allergy attack last night, right before I tested for my brown belt.  My nose was running, my eyes were watering, and I was sneezing. 

Speaking of testing: it went really well!  I was nervous about my form for some reason.  Maybe it's because it has a ton of spins.  It is an easy, quick form, but I couldn't remember the name of it last night.  I know it now: Do San! 

At lunch yesterday, I went to the park and ran.  I did 1.90 miles in 20 minutes.  It was a beautiful day-no clouds in the sky and 67 degrees, and I like how the trail there has some small hills.  I need to really work on hill running, because I find it so hard.  I think it's because Montgomery is mostly flat. 

When I get home from Nashville next week, I'm going to work on revisions on my novel.  Plus, I am about 50 pages into my 2nd novel, and I need to keep writing it so I don't lose connection to my characters.  This will take up a lot of my free time, and I may not have as much time to blog. 

Camping Trip!

This past weekend, we took the kids camping.  I had a little help, because one of our friends came in from Washington D.C., which seriously could not have been better timing.  Plus, he loves hiking and camping, so it was wonderful to have him there since Hubby is still recovering from his torn Achilles tendon.

We went up to Cheaha State Park, which is home to the highest point in Alabama.  The first day, we arrived and set up camp, played, but didn't hike.  Number One is such an outdoors kid, and he felt at home playing outside all day!

Number Two and Darling Daughter were enjoying themselves too:

As an added bonus, you can just barely see the "potato person," Liam had drawn on his hand that morning!

That night, I went to bed with Darling Daughter somewhat early.  She was not too fond of tent sleeping.  She tossed and turned in the tent all night, often sitting up and whining.  The boys slept great in their sleeping bags, but Darling Daughter felt claustrophobic in hers and kept kicking it off.  I think the fact the temperature dropped (probably into the 50s over night), and it became windy and rained a bit didn't help Darling Daughter to feel comfortable either.  At about 3 PM, I had to go to the bathroom, and guess who tagged along with me?  Needless to say, all weekend I got my exercise holding her on my hip!

We up early the next morning (thanks boys!), and sat around with our sweaters and coats on waiting for Hubby and his friend to wake up and make the fire.  Finally the boys were so hungry, that I sent them in the mens' tent to wake them up! 

Herb started the campfire, while Hubby threw bacon the grill.  Then Herb, the kids, and I headed to the little store at the bottom of the mountain to buy eggs.  While there, we bought hot boiled peanuts, only they were HOT as in spicy, boiled peanuts.  They were fantastic!  I had never had them that way before.  YUM-O.

We had our breakfast of champions: bacon, eggs, and peanuts, all protein, and then we sat around for a few minutes before deciding to go hiking.  The kids were running around and playing in the car prior to this, so it was definitely time to make our way!

A co-worker let me borrow his hiking backpack, and that helped with Darling Daughter.  Here she is the first time I put her in:

She wasn't happy at first, but she did get used to it, and she generally liked it when we were hiking.

We hiked the Bald Rock trail first.  This trail has a boardwalk, but also has a woods trail on the side.  Herb took the Woods Trail down to Bald Rock, while Hubby, the kids and me walked down to Bald Rock on the Board Walk.

When we reached the end, Herb was sitting out on the rock.  You can climb down to it.  Son Number One, always the daredevil, BEGGED to go down there so I let him.  He climbed up the face of the rock that led up to the boardwalk (not down to the valley!). 

I had to have Herb take a photo of me and the family with me BALD at Bald Rock.  I find this photo so funny, because a) I'm bald, b) Hubby still has his boot on from his Achilles tendon tear and c) Son Number Two has his finger jammed as far up his nose as it will go:

After Bald Rock, we decided to go to the highest point in Alabama, which happens to be on Cheaha Mountain too.  We drove up there, and there was a little building built during the Depression.  There were metal stairs all the way up to the top, and we had fun walking up there.  Hubby even made it, slowly but surely up and down the stairs.

At the bottom of this building was a little wooded area with some great rocks for the kids.  Number Two had wonderful fun with Herb.  He LOVED imitating him, and they had the same dance style.  I just love this photo of these two kindred spirits!

After this, we went back to the campsite so Darling Daughter could take a little nap.  She did take a very short nap, and then we were up and snacking by the campfire.  The kids LOVED the trail mix, or should I say they LOVED the M&Ms in the trail mix! ;-)

We decided to take the boys on another hike, and we left Hubby with Darling Daughter.  (She was screaming when we left, because like I said earlier she is entirely attached to my hip).  We went down to the Pulpit Rock Trail, and unfortunately I left my camera in the car this time.  Herb and Son Number One walked ahead, and I helped Son Number Two down the steep hill at the trail head.  We walked through the woods, admiring a tree that looked like a pig, and we finally made it out into the opening where Pulpit Rock is.

Son Number One had ran ahead of us, and I came to the tip of the rock, and I didn't see him anywhere.  I said, "Oh my God, Herb, you have to find him."  My heart was beating so fast.  Herb walked down the side of the rock, and found Number One down there.  He came up with him and said, "It's ok, Lauren, I have him." 

But, my acrophobia had set in, and I was in full blown panic attack mode, just certain that Number One with his mad energy and craziness was going to plummet 2100 feet to his death.  I had to sit down on the edge of the rock.  I put my head down, as my heart beat faster and faster.  Herb said, "It's ok, Lauren.  There's only a 10 foot drop to the next rock.  He can't go over there by the tree, because there IS nothing under that rock."  My heart was still beating, as Number Two tried to run up the rock face to Herb, but I wouldn't let him.

I said, "Herb, will you let Number One play over here, and I'll talk Number Two over here to play on the rocks in the woods?"

"Sure he said." 

I was so nervous, and I didn't want to put my anxiety onto Number One so I thought it best to remove myself from the situation so he could enjoy himself, or die without me watching.  Yes, this is what a stupid phobia will do to you!

Oh, and since I don't have a photo of my own, I've included a link to someone else's photo of where Son Number One was acting like a mountain goat.

After about 15 minutes, Herb brought Son Number One back over and we took the trail back to the car. 

Herb said that Son Number One is like a mountain goat.  He said he seemed to know exactly where to place his feet, and he has fantastic balance.  He told me I should get him enrolled in mountain climbing classes, so he can do it safely.  One thing is for sure, Number One has ALWAYS liked to climb, and he certainly does not share my fear of heights.

The rest of the afternoon we spent hanging around the campsite.  We went to bed super early, because we had to break camp at 2 AM to take Herb to the airport.  We did this in the pouring rain, and then drove down the mountain going about 10 miles per hour in the fog, but we eventually made it to the airport and said farewell to our friend.

What a wonderful, refreshing weekend.

Throwback Thursday: Machu Picchu

I promised a Wayback Wednesday post this week, and I didn't really make the cut.  So here's a Throwback Thursday post.  Enjoy!

In 1999, I was studying abroad in Argentina.  Since we were in South America, a group of us decided we would travel.  The study abroad program we were in was fairly lenient, and allowed us to take a week off from classes to do this.  They wanted us to enjoy our trip to South America and experience more. 

A group of us decided to travel to Machu Picchu in Peru.  I'd been to Peru before, when I was in high school.  I loved the people, the food, etc. so I was super excited to go back. I traveled with a group of four other students from my program.  We flew from Buenos Aires to La Paz, Bolivia first.  La Paz arranged their flights so you had to stay at least twenty-four hours, requiring payment of a "tourist" tax on the way out of the country.

La Paz is shaped like a giant bowl.  Flying in, our plane landed at the top of the bowl, and it was snowing. According to Wikipedia, La Paz is 11,195 ft. above sea level, but the altitude varies as the city is built upon hills.  We traveled down (literally) into the heart of the city and watched the snow turn into rain as we arrived at our hotel.

We stayed in a large hotel, which seemed more like a dorm.  I didn't have a great impression of the city, but we didn't stay long.  The city seemed dirty, and the area of town we were staying in did not have very many activities for us to do.  We ate at McDonald's, and I ate an avocado burger.  I remember thinking it was genius!  One of my traveling partners, Jeff, became ill the night in La Paz and spent much of the night in his room, most likely due to altitude sickness.

The next day, we went to the airport to fly to Cusco, Peru.  We were surprised by the tourist tax, because we had no inkling that we'd have to pay $25 to leave the country.  We also were searched, although luckily not stripped searched, in private stalls at the airport.  A lady took us into a stall, pulled the curtain closed, and patted us down for weapons.  Luckily, none of us were stupid enough to bring any weapons, so we were free to board the plane.

Flying to Cusco, I was reading the Celestine Prophecy, a book about new age spirituality, in which the protagonist travels to Peru and Machu Picchu.  I had randomly brought the book with me to Argentina.  While the writing style was not great, Redfield has some interesting thoughts on spirituality, and I thought it was beyond coincidental that I was reading the book at that very moment.

When we arrived in Cusco, a man met us at the airport telling us he was to take us back to our hotel.  We weren't sure if he was our escort or not (scary!), but we went with him anyway, and sure enough he took us to the right place.  At the hotel, we were given coca tea to attempt to alleviate any altitude sickness problems.  This tea is made from the coca plant, which is also used to make cocaine.  Well, apparently by this time my body was sick of the altitude, and I became ill.  In fact, I thought I would die.  I went through a huge pack of crackers and some soda.  One of my friends, lovingly, read to me from her touring book about how you could die from altitude sickness. 

I managed to make it to the ruins at Saqsayhuaman (jokingly called Sexy Woman by Americans), but after that I was holed up in my room for the rest of our stay in Cusco, while my friends enjoyed touring around.

The two photos I took in Cusco.  That llama kept trying to spit on me!

The next day we woke up, and I felt a little bit better.  We decided we would take a helicopter to Aguas Calientes, the little town at the base of Machu Picchu, and then take the train back later that night.

The helicopter tour was incredible.  We saw a lot of the countryside in Peru.  Choosing to travel this way brought a whole new dimension to the trip.

View from the helicopter.

Arriving at Aguas Calientes.

When we arrived in Aguas Calientes, we were told we could eat and shop a little bit at the street vendors before we boarded our bus to the top of Machu Picchu.  We walked around the dirty little town were accosted every few minutes by children (and occasionally adults) trying to sell us something.

When it was time to go we all boarded a small bus.  The bus began heading up a one lane road on a mountain.  This was a one lane road, but the driver insisted it was two lanes, and every time a bus came down, he would veer our bus to the cliff side of the mountainous road (no guardrails), and we would continue up.  Thanks to my fear of heights, I spent the majority of the ride in the middle seat, close to my friends, with my eyes closed!

Once we reached the top, the bus driver gave us instructions on when we needed to be back, and we went into the park.  The site of the green mountains was breathtaking. According to Wikipedia, Machu Picchu is still a mystery, because when it was brought to the attention of the outside world in 1911 it had long since been abandoned by the native Incans.  The Spanish did not know of the site during the Inquisition, so it is considered highly culturally relevant.

The site was once thought to be the birthplace of the "Virgins of the Suns," but lately scholars have thought it more likely that it was the large estate of an Incan land owner. Regardless, of what it was used for, it is the most beautiful, spiritual place I have ever been.

Just arrived at the top of Machu Picchu

My friends tramped over to Huayna Picchu, a smaller mountain to climb.  I politely declined, as it seemed like mountain climbing without all the safety techniques, and our guide nicely told us that people often (or maybe sometimes) fell to their death there, and just the week before a man and his tour guide had done the same. 

While they were gone I sat on one of the terraced hills, and I looked out at the lush green mountains at eye level with the clouds, and I thought of the people who had stood there before me 500 years ago.  I thought about what their lives must have looked like, and how they had enjoyed this big expanse of land with nary a thought to anyone else.  They had looked out and absorbed the beauty of earth and the beauty of life surrounding them, just as I was at that moment.

When we left, I felt a huge disconnection from the spiritual world as we re-entered the world of fast track life.  As we were driving down the mountain, a little boy from the village below raced us down, as fast as he could.  When the bus stopped at the bottom, he climbed onto the bus, bowed for a huge applause and begged for money. 

Wayback Wednesday: Vive Espana!

Our FORSPRO Group--Spain 1995

I wonder if it’s possible to have writer’s block on one particular subject.  I have sat down to write this story of Spain so many times, and I have not been able to do it.  I have so many memories, but my memories of Spain are rather fuzzy.  Certain things stick out, but I have no idea of the chronological order of events.  Maybe this is because I went to Spain 16 years ago (SIXTEEN YEARS, can it really be?).  The memories are not so fresh.  Plus, I didn’t actively write in my journal  the way I did when I went to Peru and Argentina years later, but here goes.  Wayback Wednesday: Spain.

The summer after my sophomore year in high school, a school group of mine signed up for a FORSPRO trip to Spain.  There were six of us at first: Senora Baker, Andrea, Whitney, Anne, Ashley, and me.  We would study abroad in Salamanca for a portion of the summer. 

We flew from Montgomery to Atlanta to JFK and then over to Spain.  I remember being excited to be IN New York when we arrived in JFK, even though we never left the airport.  This was the first long trip I had taken without my parents, and I was going overseas.  Sure, I’d spent many a summer at Camp Seafarer, but I had never been abroad without them.  This was probably every sixteen year old girl’s dream: freedom!

We flew Iberia airlines to Spain, and we arrived in Madrid.  We met up with another group of students who were also members of our FORSPRO program.  This is when we met Andrew, his brother Chris, their dad, Karyn, Shelby, Adam, and several other people we would become friends with over the next weeks.  They were from Virginia (Andrew and his family was, at least). 

We went sight-seeing first in our air-conditioned motor- coach.  We traversed the countryside of Spain staring out at burnt sunflowers lining the landscape.  That summer was HOT.  It was the same summer that all of those people died in Chicago.  For almost the entire time we were in Spain, the thermometers read between 40-45 degrees Celsius.  Hot, hot, hot. 

We went to Toledo, Granada, Sevilla, and Burgos.  We walked through a walled city, and I remember feeling like we were walking back into time.  We watched a man make and sharpen a sword.  We went to the Alhambra, and I remember the beauty of the gardens and the architecture.  We laughed and had fun, getting to know our new friends and adjusting to the new culture, amazed at how different our culture was from theirs.  We were asked several times if we were from Los Angeles and if we knew Melanie Griffith.  This was about the time that she had become engaged to Antonio Banderas.  The Spaniards looked at us funny when we answered we were from Alabama.  Most of them had no idea where it was.

Regarding Columbus in Burgos

Whitney, Anne, Ashley, me, Andrew (top row), Dina and Andrea (bottom row)

The Alahambra -- Moorish influence in Spain

The Court of the Lions -- beautiful Muslim artwork.

Chains on the Cathedral in Toledo

The Town Hall in Toledo, Spain

After this initial period of travel, we arrived in Salamanca to begin taking our classes.  My group stayed in a building that was used as an all boys’ Catholic school during the school year.  There was a monastery behind it, and we (or at least I) thought it was so funny to see the monks walk around in their brown robes.  We were each assigned a room with a bed.  The rooms were small and simple: one bed, a tile floor, a sink (where we washed our laundry!), and a large window that looked out onto a back courtyard.  Andrea’s room was next to mine.  We quickly realized that in order to not wake up in a pool of sweat we needed to put our mattresses on the floor.  This way, at night, we could sleep with our arms stretched out onto the tile floor, thus cooling our bodies.  Having no air conditioning was a major adjustment at first, but we all became used to it by the end of the summer.  An odd smell emanated from behind the school, and there was a park that we started calling "Shit Park," because a manure plant emited nasty smells throughout the day. Senora Baker did not like us to go to Shit Park, because she thought it was dangerous.

Our Dorm: Colegio Calasanz

Anne became homesick, and she actually ended up going home.  Andrea, Whitney, and I were all placed into the same class with a professor named Julio. Whitney reminded me that we also had a large lecture-style class on Civilization, but we rarely attended this—somehow figuring out how to rig the attendance records.  The class was early, and we were usually too tired to attend after tromping around Salamanca at all hours of the night.  One of the few things I remember about actually attending school that summer was that we read a book about Francisco Franco in Spanish.  I remember thinking it was the most boring thing I’d ever read.  Julio, our professor, had good sense of humor though and he took well to his completely female class!!! 

Our Class with Julio.

We also made several other friends, Colleen and Jennifer, as well as a few French kids, Little Goman, Alice and Florence, who loved our Southern accents.  The first week we were trying to cool down and adjust our body to no air conditioning.  I remember sitting on the lip of the second floor window looking out at the courtyard and talking to Andrea who was sitting in her window.  Senora Baker came into the courtyard and had a horrified look on her face.  She told us that we could do anything in Spain, except sit in those windows.  We took her literally, and we did everything in Spain!

The food in the dorm cafeteria was horrible.  The only thing edible was the salad if you somehow managed to scrape off all the globs of some gross mayonnaise-based dressing it was drenched in.  We fairly soon came to depend on the bakery immediately across the street from our dorm and school for our meals.  We would arrive in the morning to have French baguettes.  In the afternoon, we’d usually walk down to the Plaza Mayor and I often would buy a tortilla espanol.  This became my staple diet while in Spain, and I actually lost so much weight there that at one point my underwear started sliding off!

Friends: Colleen, Jennifer, Andrea, me and Whitney

Many of our nights were spent roaming the city with Andrew and our other American friends.  We were “so” American.  We were young, and we wanted to drink.  We had two regular spots: the Chupeteria and the Liter Bar.  At the Liter Bar, we would usually buy a drink called an Orgasmo.  The bartender at the Chupeteria came to know me that summer too, and he would often cut me off. We also like to frequent Burger King, where you could buy a cheap burger and beer.  My parents wondered why I ran out of money while I was there!

Lauren, Whitney, Jennifer, Andrew, and Andrea

We listened to the Tunas play in the Plaza Mayor at night.  We enjoyed churros and chocolate, and we enjoyed each others' company. 

The Plaza Mayor -- Salamanca, Spain

La Tunas (musicians) in the Plaza Mayor performing at night.

One evening we were watching TV in the Rec Room of the dorm, and a bat flew in the window.  After initially panicking, and trying to shoo him out of the door we came to enjoy his company, and we even named him Roger. 

Roger -- the *other* dorm resident!

One night, our group was going out to drink as usual.  We stopped at Burger King for a bathroom break.  We had been there earlier for dinner and a few cervezas (yes, they served beer at Burger King in Spain!).  I went into the bathroom, and looked at myself in the mirror.  I glanced at the girl next to me and she looked familiar, but I didn’t say anything at first.  I went into the bathroom stall, wracking my brain trying to figure out where I’d knew her, and it came to me.

“Robin?” I questioned.

“Oh my God, Lauren.  I thought that was you, but what are the chances?  What are you doing here?”

In the bathroom of Burger King in Salamanca, Spain I ran into Robin Freeman, a girl I had known from Camp Seafarer in fifth grade.  She was on a study abroad too.  She normally lived in North Carolina (I think).  It certainly is a small world, and I wondered what the chances of actually running into someone you know in a foreign country are?  Strange occurrences like this have happened to me since, including the fact that Jennifer Hinckley (who we met in Spain but who lived in California) ended up being roommates with one of my childhood friends during their freshman year in college at Vanderbilt completely randomly.  I digress—back to the story…

Towards the end of the summer, we (Andrew, Andrea, Shelby, Karyn, and me) decided to go to a REM concert in Madrid.  We bought tickets, and we arranged for a ride on a bus that would take us from Salamanca to Madrid.  We were super excited, until we learned that Michael Stipe was sick and had canceled.  Instead of refunding our tickets, the Cure stepped in and took over as the main group for the concert.  We took the bus to Madrid.  The day was so HOT.  I remember seeing the HUGE digitalized thermometer in front of the Plaza de Toros as we shuffled in for the concert and it read 45 degrees Celsius.  This translates to roughly 113 degrees Fahrenheit, and honestly people will tell you Spain has dry heat so doesn’t feel as hot but when it is 113 degrees it is HOT, especially when you’re in an outside mosh pit with a bunch of sweaty people.

The concert started, and we were in a mosh pit.  I didn’t drink that day.  It was too hot.  I was worried about dehydration.  One of the girls with us drank though, and she drank a lot.  About halfway through the Cure concert she seemed to have a nervous breakdown and wanted to leave.  We told her we had no way of leaving, but we all managed to get her onto the motor coach and we waited for the concert to end, giving her water to alleviate her dehydration.  I learned two things at this concert: 1) I don’t like mosh pits—they are scary and dangerous and 2) don’t ever drink alcohol when it is 113 degrees outside and you’re surrounded by a ton of people.

Senora Baker also took us on some separate excursions, away from the main group.  Our small group went to el Escorial.  I’ll never forget the “wedding cake” tomb where the Kings and Queens of old had buried their small children who died from various diseases.  She also took us to el Valle de los Caidos (The Valley of the Fallen).  We went up on top of the giant cross, and on each corner, North, South, East, and West was a HUGE statue of each of the four Saints. 

Valle de los Caidos

As the summer came to an end, I was dreading going back home.  I missed my family, but I loved being on my own in a foreign country.  I loved the Spaniards, Salamanca, and my friends.  We had a little mishap in the airport with our plane being overbooked (never good), but luckily one of the adults on our trip had some clout with the president of Iberia airlines and soon we were on our way home.  For the next few months I HATED the air conditioner.  When it would blow on me I felt like I was freezing, but I loved Dr. Pepper, which I had dearly missed while I was gone.  Oh the life of a sixteen year old.  I also had to repay the debt that I owed Andrea (from running out of money) by working in my Dad’s office for the rest of the summer.

Wayback Wednesday: Peru

The summer after high school, I went to Peru with a group of adventurers.  I don’t remember what the whole program was about, something environmental.   There was a group of about eighteen of us, with one girl from the school I had just graduated from.  Dr. Smith led the expedition (that’s what it felt like at times!).

A few of us riding in a rickshaw in Quito.  I was so young!

We first went to Quito, Peru and then made our way to the Amazonian Rainforest.  We stayed in a “resort” in the middle of the rainforest.  There was no hot water, so many of us preferred bathing in the swimming pool, which was semi-allowed.  We just did it with bathing suits.  The cabins we stayed in had open air and hammocks, and many nights we slept in the hammocks and listened to the monkeys scream.  The rainforest can be an EXTREMELY loud place at night.  The animals seem to play while you’re trying to sleep.

Our resort: Zungarococha.

We ate dinner in an open air café, and I loved the yucca and pretty much everything else they served there.  The food was fantastic. 

We visited a small town, and a little Peruvian girl let us hold her pet sloth.  He clung onto me like a little baby, and put his head against my shoulder.  She took us to her house, and we saw her mother use a clay oven to cook food for the whole family.  They showed us their school house, which was in bad need of repair.  They also needed books.  The conditions were appalling to me, a “rich” teenager from Alabama, seeing that children lived with so little made me sad.  It also made me thankful for what I did have.

We also visited a zoo, and I was able to hold an anaconda.  My seven year old LOVES this photo of me being brave!

We took a cruise on a branch of the Amazon called the Nanay River.  Mr. Smith told us about the fish in the Amazon River that would swim up inside of you and live off of you as a parasite.  None of us wanted to get in the water after that!  We saw pink river dolphins, which was completely amazing.  The jungle swelled around the river as we cruised to our next destination, another resort in a small village. This resort overlooked the river, and had a huge open air reception area.  The rooms were built off of this, with screens and mosquito nets covering the beds, because the mosquitos were particularly bad in this area and could spread yellow fever (I had the immunization before I left).

 The toilets were self-flush.  By that I mean, there was a bucket next to the toilets filled with water, you took the bucket, poured the water in and your pee or poop would go down a tube directly into the river.  Sanitation in this area was little to nil.  The next day, I saw kids playing in the tip of the river, washing clothes, fetching water.  This is how disease spreads, but this is also how they lived, and how they lived for thousands of years.

The houses here were built on sticks so they would not be flooded.  They consisted of some sort of wood paneling on the bottom, pure and simple, with hammocks for people to sleep on.  One of the Peruvian ladies also told us that the houses were built up so animals from the forest would not bother them.  They had a simple school house, and the education there was quite good.  They said they had trouble keeping teachers, as often the adult children left home to go to Quito for better jobs and better opportunities in life.

From this village, we walked into the rainforest.  Several men carried mattresses on their backs the whole way so that we could sleep in a station in the middle of the rainforest.  They also carried food to make for us.  We arrived at a raised platform that would be our bed for the night.  The men set up our beds, complete with mosquito nets, and they started the tasks of making our super.

In the meantime, I hit the head, and by that I mean a hold in the ground.  I learned that in the rainforest, this is where you went #2.  We all dug holes, went, and covered up our shit (literally!). 

The men who were helping us had brought chicken with them.  They slaughtered them and cooked them for us.  This was the best chicken I have ever had in my life, before or since.  Completely fresh, not antibiotics, no hormones, just chicken as it was meant to be.  Yum.

I’m not sure what happened next exactly.  At one point, we went to visit the Boras, a tribe in the middle of the rainforest, virtually untouched by civilization.  We traded with them for Bora art.  I brought back necklaces, masks, and toys that their children used.  I gave them my studs so they could use them to pierce the young tribal girls’ ears, instead of sterilized sticks.  This tribe does have contact with the outside world, but they live a completely tribal life still.

Dancing with the Boras.

It was an amazing, eye-opening trip.  I saw things that most people don’t see in their entire lives.  I will always remember and think fondly of Peru.  The people are so nice there.  They welcome everyone with open arms, smiling, and willing to share their culture with outsiders.

Wayback Wednesday: Argentine Bike Wreck

From July 1999 to November 1999, I attended a study abroad in Buenos Aires, Argentina.  I was an International Relations major in college, so a study abroad was pretty much required.  I would finally be able to polish off my Spanish speaking skills!

I arrived in Buenos Aires, after a few weather delays, and I moved in with my host family (familia) on Calle Manuel Ugarte.  My host family was unique.  I had a host mother named Patricia.  She had long blonde hair, obviously dyed, and she loved to laugh at me.  She was married to a man named Rupert, who I never really got along with.  He was my “Step Host Father,” and not the father of Patricia’s two daughters, Paz and Sol, who lived in the house.  Yes, I lived with Peace and Sunshine the whole time I was in Argentina! 

My host family taught me how to play a fun card game, and for the life of me I cannot remember what it is called!  One day I came home for dinner, and she fed me tripe.  I felt like I was going to vomit.  She disapproved of my friends coming over, mainly because they were boys.  In most families in Argentina, the daughters live at home until they are married.  In the beginning, they really made me feel at home, but as time went on they began having problems and stopped taking care of me and their other host daughter, as well.  For me, it wasn’t a problem, because I had a lot of friends whose host families were more than willing to adopt me!

Argentina was beautiful, fun, and a great learning experience.  I met a lot of great people, some of whom I’m still semi-friends with today (via the benefit the amazing world wide web and, of course, Facebook). 

We did a lot of sightseeing.  We saw the cemetery in Recoleta where Evita Peron was buried.

We saw the Obelisk.  I thought it was funny how I went from one city with a monument (Washington D.C.) to another with a similar monument.  Ironic.  Coincidental, or maybe men just really like to build tall, sharp-looking buildings in large cities in order to exhibit their extreme power!

We went to Iguazu Falls. 

We also had school at the Universidad de Belgrano, which meant studying.

One afternoon in September, I left my house on Manuel Ugarte to walk down the block to one of my friend’s apartments.  A group of us were writing a paper for an economics class.  I had walked to this particular friend’s apartment about a hundred times that year, and I knew the route well.  The street was lined by shops and was usually bustling with cars and pedestrians.  Argentineans are not great drivers.  In fact, more than once that year I feared for my life inside a taxi! 

Well, I’m walking down this street just trying to make it to my friend’s house so we can finish our paper, and I see a car just slam into this guy on his bike.  The guy crashes off of his bike, flies through the air over my head and slams onto the sidewalk, almost right beside me.  I was in shock.   The driver of the car that hit him, slams on his brakes, jumps out of the car and comes up on the sidewalk next to me.  He stares at the man, lying and bleeding on the sidewalk next to me.  He then gets down on his hands and knees, sticks his face right in front of the injured man’s face and proceeds to yell at him.  I kid you not!  He yelled at this man that he had just hit.  I was horrified.  I could not believe what I was seeing.  I stood there for a few minutes as people began to crowd around.  They began shouting in Spanish for someone to call an ambulance.  I stood there, watching this man bleed, and then I just looked at these Argentineans who I couldn’t completely understand, and I walked away.

When I arrived at my friend's apartment, he and another friend asked what had taken me so long.  I told them about the incident, but I think they were more interested in just getting to work on the paper at hand.  To this day, I remember every detail of that day.  I remember the bicyclist face as he flew off the bike.  I remember the angry face of the driver.  I remember the ladies coming out of the store, and the terrified looks on their faces.  I remember how I kept replaying it in my head, over and over again.

Such a strange memory and for some reason it stands out amongst my memories in Argentina.  It is a sad memory in a sea of good times.  I will never know what happened to the cyclist or the angry driver.  The rest of my memories of Argentina are somewhat more mundane, like going to Coto, a large supermarket in our neighborhood Belgrano, and eating and studying.  Late nights, drinking and hanging out with friends, and then stumbling into an internet café to email friends from home.  Hours of walking around the city, seeing the bright colors of La Boca, attending a Tango dinner, movies in Recoleta, and shopping at the little markets that would be set up in the parks on the weekends. 

Thinking of this trip makes me yearn to travel again. 

It also reminds me of the nature of humans.  For me, to just walk away from the accident, as if nothing happened.  For the driver to be so angry over something that he did, instead of just admitting that he had done something wrong. 

*Please excuse the absence of accent marks on the Spanish words.  I cannot figure out how to add them!  If anyone knows how, feel free to comment.

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