Back On The Radar

Hola amigos! Feliz Navidad, Feliz Ano Nuevo and any other felizes I might have missed the past couple months. It´s been a while, but I´m back and charging into 2009.

It´s been pretty busy here, south of the equator, so I haven´t had much opportunity to keep you updated. ...Well, I actually did write up a rather long rant a few weeks back, but decided not to post it, for fear of 1) being asked by the Foundation to resign my position here; and/or 2) being committed by friends and family upon my return.

However, I just got back from a month-long adventure, so I´ll catch you up on that first and leave the business stuff for later. (The travel pictures are more interesting too, and I know that´s what you really want anyway.)

So, I set out from Moyobamba December 13th, on a 26 hour bus ride to Lima. In addition to seeing my first glimpse of the Andes up close and personal, I was treated to a fine example of Peruvian entertainment. We started our ride with the best 80´s compilation I´d ever heard – great songs, perfectly mixed. Then we watched half of White Fang 2 in English. Once that started skipping they put on some 1950´s Disney-esque musical -- in Spanish. We got a few hours of cumbia in between that and a horrible Jackie Chan flick -- also in Spanish. After that we watched Commando. (Despite the bad voice overdub, it was great to see the Governator in his prime. Dialog was never a strong point in his movies anyway.) Then we got to hear Tracy Chapman´s debut CD ...three times. We wrapped up the journey with Men of Honor (in English), Deathrace (in Spanish, and possibly the most graphic movie I´ve ever seen), and of course more cumbia. Not exactly blockbuster selections but the randomness certainly kept things interesting. If Movil Tours has an entertainment director, I sure hope he gets medication soon.

Since I’d headed straight to Yantalo upon my arrival back in October, it was the first time I seen the northern coast of Peru -- which is completely different from the the jungle side. Nothing but sand and rocks for hundreds of miles. The only thing adding any contrast to the landscape was the thin black strip of asphalt stretched out before us.

Finally, after what seemed like months, I dragged my numb ass off the sweltering bus and out onto the hotter (and much dirtier) streets of Lima. The capital city of 8 million has some nice places, but they are few and far between. Fortunately my hostal was in a cool historical neighborhood and provided great views of the surrounding cathedrals and palaces. Certainly worth the $9 a night.

I unfortunately couldn’t get my Brazilian Visa in the couple days I had there, but I did manage to get a Yellow Fever shot for a hundred bucks cheaper than in the States. I also got ahold of a friend who used to work as a chef at Puerto Mirador, so she gave me a tour of some of the better hang-outs and restaurants.

Unlike my first visit to Lima, I was a bit more lucid and successfully made it to the airport on time, where I caught a flight to Buenos Aires. (Which I was very fortunate to receive as a Christmas gift from my Dad and Pam, …and which made this all possible -- Thanks again! Love you!)

Once I made it to Buenos Aires, however, my luck was not so good. First, I’d forgotten to write down the address of my hotel, so I had to wait over an hour to use the airport’s internet service. After finding the location and a cab to take me there, it turned out they were closed for repairs. I had reservations for the place for New Years, so I figured it’d be easy to get a room at the same place then. Apparently not. I had a back up hotel and address too, but they had gone out of business recently. Strike two. However, a few hours (and a sore back) later, I managed to find an affordable room in San Telmo, an older, but bustling part of town. Even better, that night I found a nearby milonga with a live band. The setting was perfect -- an old dark and balmy theatre. And the music … WOW! The first crunch of the accordions and I almost peed. Certainly the ideal place to grab a drink, prop up my aching feet, and watch an impressive group of tango dancers.

The luck of the night before was short-lived. When I made it to the Brazilian Consulate the next morning, they also told me they could not give me my Visa in time. So, disappointed by a pretty negative initial impression of Buenos Aires, and doubting I’d actually make it to Brazil at all, I packed up and took the first bus I could to the northernmost town in Argentina, Puerto Iguazu.

I’d always wanted to go to Buenos Aires. I don’t know why exactly, but it’s always peaked my curiosity. I suppose for a place to claim the birthright of tango, I imagined it had to be steeping in style and have a relentless passion for art and music. Admittedly, I set the bar very high. What I found however, was a beautiful city inhabited by a remarkably non-descript mix of people. The only notable characteristic to me was their blatant inconsideration. (It’s as bad as Los Angeles, which I thought was impossible.) The women there are especially horrible. I wanted to make a couple t-shirts before I returned for NYE, reading: “Don’t flatter yourself – I just need directions” and “You’d almost be pretty if you smiled.”

So when I made it to Puerto Iguazu, I thought for sure my bus had crashed en route and I’d just arrived in Heaven. First, I found a nice, honest cab driver. (Reason enough to convince me I’d died.) Next, when we rounded the drive to The Hostel Inn, I was temporarily blinded by the glare off the huge (and clean) swimming pool. After 18-hours seated next to an obese woman and her flailing, screaming baby, the water was just what I needed to wash away the built-up sweat and impatience. Furthermore, when I got out of the cab, my ears immediately registered Daft Punk Alive – my favorite 74 minutes of recorded music ever. Like a moth to the flame I went straight to the source – a poolside bar, tended by a beautiful and very fit, 6-foot tall Spanish girl with dreadlocks and wearing a thong, serving 2 for 1 caperinhas. It was only when I reached my room later and met my suitemates – all European guys – I realized that, I wasn’t really in Heaven.

The next day myself and three of the roomies (Paul the Irishman, Tom the Belgian, and Brehl the Swiss) set out for Puerto Iguazu Falls – “las tres frontieras” (the three borders). This consolidation of some 270+ waterfalls acts as the natural border between Argentina, Brazil and Paraguay. Unfortunately the hundreds of photos I took and my attempts to convey their magnificence with words cannot even come close to describing the beauty and power that I witnessed there. I’ve been lucky to have gone a lot of places and seen many amazing things in my life. This is certainly one of my favorites of all time. Check it out on line. Better yet, go there. And while your there, take the boat ride at the bottom of the falls. They call it ‘The Baptism’, which is 200% accurate. They’ll get you in amazing spots for photo ops, and then instruct you to put all things of value in the provided dry-lock bags. After that it’s full speed ahead into the downpour. One of the most fun and exhilarating experiences of my life, for sure. And what better way to end an incredible day than with more 2 for 1 caperinhas? …Oh yeah, with 2 for 1 caperinhas and an authentic Argentinean BBQ. Mmmmmm.

The next day was a lazy Sunday spent poolside, free from travel -- except the few yards to my new favorite bar (and bartender -- sorry Mily). It was really nice to not worry about finding a bus, taxi or plane for a day. It was also a treat to speak English for a bit with the other travellers.

The following morning I finally got my Brazilian Visa (in all of four hours and with one document – unlike the three days and loads of paperwork necessary at the other embassies. However, I had to pay $160 bucks for it. But I’d come that far and had reservations already, so I couldn’t turn back at that point. (By the way, they only charge Americans and Australians for entry, because we’re the only ones who charge them.) After a few final hours by the pool I boarded a bus to the border, where I began my 14-hour journey to the beaches of Brazil.


It took a day and a half to actually make it to the beach, but I reached Praia do Rosa and settled down for three days, including Christmas. Spent the days just walking for miles along the coastline with my camera and iPod. The little-known town hasn’t become popular with the tourists yet, but along with it’s beauty, is one of the best surf spots in Brazil. On Christmas I shared this gorgeous, half-mile long beach with about five people. Not very traditional I know, but a very feliz Navidad (it’s “Natal” in Portuguese) for me.

After that, I went north to Florianopolis. I will certainly try to go back there. The beaches were amazing, the waves were fun and, for the first time, the water was warm. It’s a great place to walk around at night as well. I’m sure it’s even better in the off-season, without all the other tourists.

I must insert a brief disclaimer here, because I, as many of you, are very spoiled to live in San Diego -- which certainly has some of the nicest beaches in the world. The beaches I found were comparable to back home. I found nothing like the Caribbean or Hawaii in my travels. I’m sure northern Brazil has some great spots, but I that will be an entirely different trip.

Next stop on the itinerary was Punte del Este, Uruguay. It certainly wasn’t exactly the “San Tropez” of Latin America, which I had read, but nonetheless a beautiful (and affordable) place as well. Got some cool photos there, too.


From there I passed through the capitol city, Montevideo, and then boarded a ferry crossing the Rio Plata to Buenos Aires. Got another one of my favorite shots en route:



Initially, my second BA experience was going as poorly as the first. The subway closed about 5 minutes before I reached the gates. I walked for a bit before giving up and hailing a cab. It was about midnight by then and I was tired. However, like the first time, the hotel I had reserved was sealed shut. (I got an email the next day explaining they’d gone out of business.) But alas, fate was on my side. I’d heard the Euros back in Puerto Iguazu talking about a great hostel here. Fortunately I'd written the name down. So, I set out on a new mission – to find the Milhouse. I got in another cab and headed to the center of downtown. I had no idea where I was going, but figured that would be a good place to start. I’m a little ashamed to admit it, but my saving grace was a McDonald’s. I thought there’d be some gringos there who could point me in the right direction, and I was right. An hour later I found my destination, …and they had a room for me, which I was told by all would be impossible for NYE. It turned out to be a great spot. Met great people, the location was perfect, and it had a kitchen. (Which I was very excited to use, as I don’t have one in Peru.)

The second time around Buenos Aires was great. Aside from not getting to see any more tango shows (they’re expensive), it couldn’t have been more enjoyable. Lots more sightseeing and photos. I also developed a little more appreciation for the various architecture, which I didn’t really have time to take in before. It really is a beautiful city.

For the two months of planning that it took, despite the beaches of Brazil and the waterfalls, I was most anxious to spend NYE in Buenos Aires. … And it delivered. The Milhouse had a great party and countdown, lasting ‘til 2AM, at which point we got on a private bus to Pacha. (If you aren’t familiar with the name, Pacha is perhaps the most reputable international chain of dance clubs for electronic music.) They’re all over the world, but only one in the US – where commercial hip-hop taints every club. (But that’s a soapbox for another time.) Anyways, the DJs were great, the crowd was fun, the sound was loud and clear … it was perfect. What made it even better, was randomly running into Phil (20Meat) a fellow DJ from SD. We’ve crossed paths many times back home and spoken briefly, but we finally got a chance to get better acquainted. He’s certainly a great guy, who I hope to keep in better touch with in the future. (I have to give him props too, ‘cause I think he’s the best house DJ in San Diego.)

In true rock-star fashion, I left Pacha with the morning sun a couple of hours high. When I got to the hotel, I only had time for a quick shower before grabbing my bags and heading to the airport. The ten hours of travel to Lima, via Santiago, Chili was a little rough without sleep, but I was still so ecstatic from the night before, it was easy to deal with. I thought I’d be able to sleep on the plane, but I had that great music bouncing around in my head, keeping me conscious.

Lima, as usual, was hot and dirty, but it was there that I met Michele -- a fellow volunteer with the Foundation and family friend. Together we headed back to Yantalo. After traveling by myself for the three weeks beforehand, it was certainly a nice change to have some company -- especially the company of such a wonderful person and experienced traveler as she is.

Our first stop was Chan Chan -- a huge complex of ruins -- near Huanchaco, an awesome little beach town, with great people, really cheap prices and the best civiche in the world. Just to elaborate, I don’t like fish or onions. But they bring out a huge plate of fresh fish and onions soaked in lime, and somehow it turns out to be one of the best meals I’ve ever had.?. …And it’s about $5. ($10 if you want a really fancy restaurant.) I plan on going back just for another plate before I leave.



From the coast we headed up into the Andes to Cajamarca – where the armed and mounted Spaniards slaughtered 5,000 defenseless Incas and took control of the Empire. Other than it’s ugly past, it was an amazing place. It was also really neat to see the more traditional Peruvian garb. Of the most memorable spots were Usha Usha (a very inviting and intimate little night club, where the owner, Jaime, and friends played some beautiful music for us) and Helados Holanda (which serves the best ice-cream I’ve ever had.) Being lactose intolerant, it was certainly a love/hate relationship, but I persevered every day -- through every triple scoop. If you make it there, try the Cerveza flavor. It’s so good I’m sure it would be illegal in the US. ... Oh yeah, I ate a gunea pig too.

Despite the recommendations of Lonely Planet and Rough Guide, we decided to take the less-traveled route across the Andes. They both warned that it was very dangerous, but beautiful. As I like to say though, “Safety Third!” It was indeed both very beautiful and very dangerous. A single dirt track road winding around peaks 9,000 ft high. Check out the video I took. What made it even more adventurous was that we were stuck for about 12 hours near the top, waiting for road crews to come and clear a landslide from our path. It was probably a good thing I didn’t find out ‘til afterwards that the same day another bus went of the road, killing 32 people. Oops.



Just before our last leg of the journey, we stopped at Kuelap – a very impressive ruined citadel, sitting atop a 10km trail – straight up. We climbed 4500ft in 3 hrs, stayed for about an hour, then headed back down, for what I thought would certainly be my last hike ever. My legs have never hurt so bad. It was worth it, however, for the beauty of the ruins and the surrounding peaks was truly breathtaking. …And I finally saw some llamas. (Word to the wise: If you’re planning a 20km hike, eat something that day and make sure you get more than 2 hours sleep beforehand -- preferably not on a bus either. It’s also best to leave early enough as to not descend your final two hours with only a headlamp for light.) I’d heard that the pumas and spectacled bears weren’t usually a problem, so at least we had that going for us ...which was nice.

Literally about 30 seconds after we reached the bottom, we found the last cab to Chachapoyas, an hour north. I’d heard it was a beautiful place to, but unfortunately all we saw was the bank, before climbing into another hour-long cab ride to Pedro Ruiz – where hoped to finally rest, eat and flag down a bus to Moyobamba. Our luck was too good however, and we found a bus after only 5 minutes, on which I tried to sleep, starving and praying my legs wouldn’t cramp up on me. I think I finally passed out about 3AM, but woke to see the familiar bus terminal of Moyo only an hour later.

Everyday since I’ve been back in the jungle, I can’t help but reflect on the truly amazing experiences I had, trekking across this very different continent. I will never forget them.

If you want to see the rest of my travel pics click here.

Now it’s time for to get back to work. I’ll do a better job on keeping you all current with that. And of course keep snapping photos.

Hope you’re all well. Take care.

Ciao amigos.

Un Mes

WTF California?!?! I suppose I owe you some credit for having the common sense to elect the only real viable ticket for President, but what’s up with passing the marriage ban? Stop acting like a bunch of Texans for Christ’s sake. We’re supposed to set a good example for the red(neck) states, not act like one ourselves. Come on, it’s not the 50’s anymore. (...and please no gibberish about protecting the "institution" of marriage -- like it has any integrity left. And for the record, the states that allow gay marriage have the lowest divorce rates.) …Ughh! …at least the barrage of political hype (a.k.a lies) is over with for a while.

Oh yeah… Peru.

Peru still here and carrying on as it always has – very slowly. The concept of time has somehow completely missed this part of the world. As my Dad says, “everything in Latin America is merely a suggestion.” Be it a stoplight, school attendance, appointment, whatever. IF someone actually shows up, it will surely be at least half an hour late. …but more often then not they just won’t show. The country’s got serious issues if I’m the most punctual person here. I’ve gone from lowering my expectations to just having none at all. … and I always bring a book. However, sometimes I think maybe time is not absent, just very abstract. Maybe the people here believe that time is more than the ridgid linear theory that we subscribe to? Maybe to them it’s a multidimensional entity beyond human control, foretold to them centuries ago by aliens at Nasca? (Or maybe I’m giving too much credit to a people who think cleaning their floors with gasoline is a good idea?)

So the big news in Yantaló is the construction of a new bridge – el Puente de Los Angeles. They’ve been fighting it out with the neighboring city of Moyobamba for a while now, which prefers the bridge within the city limits. However, Yantalo and the surrounding communities (casitas) want the bridge closer to them because it would bring an abundance of new business and commercial development through their region. It would be a tremendous benefit to the area and its struggling economy. Anyway, last week we marched from Yantaló to the Government Offices in Moyo. (Moyobamba, by the way, is the capital of the Department of San Martin -- which would equal a state in the US). So, we walked about 8 kms, until met by a line of police at the gates of our destination. Then a large group of folks from Moyobamba showed up as well. It was kind of exciting. Both groups were yelling at each other, over the police blockade. For a moment I thought it might end up like the Latin version of The Warriors, but ended up more like West Side Story – anticlimactic. I just stood in the middle, and took as many pictures as I could. It was obvious the police didn’t know what to make of the crazy gringo who ignored their orders to get back. But they had bigger problems to deal with and left me alone. After all was said and done however, a few important peeps from the government came out and spoke with the leaders of each party. Apparently we won, so now we just wait for the proper bureaucratic approval before construction begins. Lord knows how long that will be. (See paragraph above.)

Work here is sporadic at best for now. Most of the time my students don’t show up for their English lessons. But the ones that do are improving and very appreciative. I think word is spreading also, as I’m getting more people asking if they can attend. Since most people are working during the day, I’ve had the best luck with my night classes, which I prefer anyway. I’m still way more productive after the sun goes down. Even the roosters, screaming niños, and blaring cumbia at 6AM have not broken my ability to sleep in. Of course they think I’m crazy for going to sleep at midnight or one, but they don’t know how peaceful it is when it all winds down for the night. It’s just me and the sounds of the jungle. The solitude is truly beautiful.

I was delighted to get some new assignments this past week from Luis, our Foundation’s President. Fortunately they're all construction related, as I’m presently working at my maximum limit of child exposure. Like the dogs and chickens, kids run wild in the streets here. (Kinda like shopping at Walmart or Target in the ghetto. …without the chickens.) Luckily I’m only teaching English to adults, but I’m at the school everyday for a while too -- either observing a class or answering questions before volleyball practice. But I’m excited about undertaking the remodeling of the bathrooms and building a kitchen at each of the two schools. In addition, we are putting a live-fence around the perimeter of the new clinic site. I certainly enjoy the freedom and time I have now, but look forward to more tangible tasks to work on.

I’ve also recently discovered the hip discotheque in Moyobamba -- Papillon. Contrary to relative spots in the US, this place is both popular and actually pretty cool. Of course anyone who knows me knows that I will surely die without music. And that I’m also very much an elitist when it comes to judging the crap that passes for music in the US. However I really like the music here so far. I’ve always loved the Latin beats and percussion. Granted they have their favorites, which are overplayed, but are for the most part tolerable. Papillon plays a mixture of cumbia, meringue, reggaeton, and house music, with an occasional 80’s classic. The DJ’s mix ‘em pretty well too. What’s best is that the people actually go there to dance and have fun, not to just to be seen standing there in their fancy clothes. And people are nice. What a shocker. It’s like stepping through some time-portal that sends me back to the good ol’ San Francisco raver days. Better yet, it’s $1 to get in and $2 for a liter of beer. For what it costs to park downtown in SD, I can drink and dance ‘til 3 plus get a decent hotel room. It doesn’t suck either that all the pretty girls want to dance with the gringo.

After a month, all is still very enjoyable. My ticket says I come back on April 16th, but I can’t say I’m committed to that time-line by any means. I really want to work on the clinic, but I can’t fight mother nature (or the Peruvian “mañana” syndrome). We’ll start when we start and I’ll figure it all out later I suppose. Regardless, it’s nice to know that, whenever it is, I’ll at least be returning to a country that is on a much better path then when I left.

Oh… one more thing: Please occasionally check out www.yantalo.org. I’ll be doing a short weekly blog for the foundation there too. It will help to get us a better Internet presence and thus (hopefully) more volunteers.

Muchas gracias.

Ciao!

Acostumbrado

Hola!

All is well in the selva (jungle). Two weeks down and twenty-five to go, but delighted to say that other than y’all (and Sammy), I don’t miss “civilization”. (Okay, a hot shower would be nice.) But life is good to me in Yantalo …and getting better for all.




This week I had the pleasure of working with a couple of dentists, Brent Wager & Renee Duprat, who came down from Vancouver, BC to volunteer their services. In just a few days they managed to do over 250 examinations at the school plus another 20 extractions at the existing excuse for a clinic. I got a crash course in how to fill out dental charts. The exams were fun, but after seeing a couple extractions I opted to go play English teacher instead. But I have the deepest respect for those two for their hard work and patience. They worked long hot hours and put a lot of smiles (yet some toothless) on many faces. Never expected to see a group of kids racing each other to a dental chair, screaming “mi primero!” Just one of many unusual sights here.

In addition to the dentistry we managed to fit in a few pisco sours and a trip up the Rio Mayo. However, my fondest memory would have to be our trip back to Puerto Mirador after the last day at the clinic. The doctor there had offered to give us a ride, so we crammed into his little Carolla and headed down the bumpy road. Well, Fernando (the doctor) is a nice guy, but has a healthy dose of machismo. Therefore his self-image is muy importante. Which made his CD selection even more enjoyable, as it went from Abba, to Air Supply, to Bonnie Tyler, to a Rod Stewart/Bryan Adams duet. Driving down the road with a bunch of crazy gringos screaming “Angel of the Morning”, all he could do was look in the rear view every so often and give us a perplexed smile and a thumb’s up. Certainly one of those silly moments I’d expect on the Playa, but not out here between the rice fields and banana trees.


The “volleyball team” had its first practice this past week as well. Wow! It’s really such a strange situation I don’t know where to begin. In summary, the team is supposed practice at 2:30, but most of the kids go home to eat at 2:00, ‘cause they don’t feed them at school. They all return late, at 3:00 after their meals. The other person I work with is a very nice lady, but a horrible coach. She somehow got her 1940’s volleyball reels mixed in with some of Goebell’s Nazi training flicks. Anyway, she leaves at 4:00, so therefore rushes through practice – with no regard to proper technique or instruction. I’d prefer the two teams train separately, but with only one court it’s not feasible. Of course she doesn’t speak English, but what makes the whole situation somewhat comical is that she talks so fast, even a couple of teachers (all native Spanish speakers) say they have a hard time understanding her. If I’d met her under different circumstances, I’d swear she’d just done half the blow in Peru. Should be an interesting season to say the least.

Spanish is going well and mproving everyday. Necessity is certainly a good motivator. One of my recent projects was translating an English instruction manual for an incubator that was donated. Great practice, but the medical terminology was pretty tricky. Teaching English has also helped get a better knowledge of Spanish grammar, but still lots to learn.

Other than that, not much to report. All is tranquilo. Most nights are spent with a Spanish workbook and iTunes. A couple afternoons a week I head in to Moyo for supplies, laundry, to check out the market or just a change in dining scenery. I often end up at the bar of the Puerta Mirador Hotel, where I can get free wireless. Well, not exactly free, since I pay for drinks, but that’s still pretty efficient in my book. I’ve befriended a few great people there too. Walter is about 70, a friend of the owner, and has this classic Louis Armstrong-in-Spanish voice. Somehow he affords himself the ability to hang out at the hotel, eating and drinking very well. Maybe he gets paid to just sit around, tell stories and hype the hotel’s excellent menu? Then there’s the bartender, Mily, who’s pinch-her-chubby-cheeks cute and pretty smart too. She’s 20 years old, works 6 days a week and goes to school every morning to study math. In a country were most of the girls her age are pregnant with their second kid, I can only hope she can stay focused on her goals and not fall victim to the constant attention which I’m sure she gets. Finally there’s Roberto, who owns the hotel. He lives in Ica, just south of Lima, so he’s not around much. The Canadians and I had a great time celebrating his amiga’s birthday, until he literally had to be carried back to his room by Walter and I. However it was not before Roberto drunkenly gifted us each a bottle of his sacred Pisco Puro, which he distills himself exclusively for the hotel bar and is arguably the best in Peru.

Again, I miss you all, but having an incredible time. I couldn’t recommend the experience highly enough. If you want to get away for a bit (…like really far away), see some amazing sights, and help out a great little community, you’re certainly welcome here. I gotta top bunk I’ll rent for only a cerveza a day. (Payment must be received in advance.)

Best of luck on Election Day. Hopefully I’ll be writing you under much better circumstances next time.

Nos vemos.

Down The Rabbit Hole

Take Off

I wish I could hook you with some witty quote or deeply profound thought about nature, mankind or the meaning of life to begin the anecdotes of my Amazonian escapade. Unfortunately I’m at a loss for words. …At least any that could do justice to what I’ve seen so far. But, I will do my best to share with you my travels, trials and tribulations while in this truly amazing part of the world.

I think, however, I should begin, curbside -- back at Lindbergh Field – where I was overwhelmed by the realization that I am so incredibly lucky to have people like yourselves in my life. Admittedly, I’m a cynical bastard and it is difficult for me to see any real value in most things, (at least that can’t produce hi-fidelity sound), but please know I hold y’all closest to my heart. I know friends never have to say “goodbye”, just “see you later”. Thank you all for your support and sending me off with such comforting and confident feelings.


Lima

I arrived in Lima at 4:20 AM. My first impression could have been better, as I had to threaten my cab driver with police intervention after trying to stick me with an inflated fare to Miraflores. Exhausted, I crashed at the hostel for over 10 hrs upon check-in. Upon consciousness, the closest place I could find a snack was (of course) Starbucks. I then took a long walk to Barranca, an artsy community of Lima. They certainly love their fun here. Everyone in the place was dancing and singing along. The band even played “Hey Jude”’ so I could sing along too. Had my 1st Pisco Sour (the national drink). Very tasty. Had my 2nd Pisco Sour. Mmm. Still just as tasty. (Note to self: Next time, after 2nd Pisco Sour,… STOP.) Got pulled into a cab by 5 Peruvian girls, who dropped me off at my hostel. Truly a great first evening to start I my adventure.

Woke up shortly before my plane to Tarapoto was scheduled to leave -- upon which I was to meet the other volunteers before heading out to the jungle. What I didn’t know, was that in the midst of the night, my stomach and orifices had conspired against me. They mutinied. And as I was crawling back and forth between the bathroom and computer, my plane crept down the runway. I realized at this time that I had no contact information or address of where I was to be staying in the midst of the Amazon. All I knew was that the town is called Yantaló and the name “Wuilman” -- some guy who I was supposed to help with his English. (Oh yeah… airplane food tastes about the same the second time around.)

Despite the initial panic, however, it really couldn’t have worked out better. I managed to find a hotel in Tarapoto for $7 that night. Located a $5 bus to Moyabamba (2 ½ hours drive north). Got a motocab across town - 30¢. Hired a car for a $1 to take me to Yantaló -- 4 miles, but 20 mins away. Found someone who knew Wuilman within 5 mins. Caught up to the others 5 mins later -- less than an hour behind their arrival. Mission accomplished! (Get my flight suit!)

The experience was awesome. Truly an exhilarating challenge: to travel that far, and to such a remote, unknown area, alone. …And without speaking a word of English either. If I could do it again I wouldn’t change a thing. …Well, except for maybe 6 girls in a cab.


Yantalo

So, I’ve finally reached my destination, the small town of Yantalo. It’s a very tiny and poor “district” of 2,800 people, who live mainly on the food they grow and raise. There is one paved street, which encircles the town plaza – fortunately it’s my street, too. A few of the crudely built homes have converted themselves into makeshift storefronts, and sell very basic items like bottled water, bread, rice, and (thank God) soda. The photo below is of the school "cafeteria" (just a woodstove and milk). The people have next to nothing, but sure smile a lot more than we do. They are incredibly welcoming and gracious that I am there to help their community. They are also very curious about our country and customs.

The other members of the Yantaló Foundation are really kind and brilliant people. I’m really excited to work with them in the months to come. Our President, Luis Vasquez, is quite an amazing person. About 70, he’s supposedly a fairly renowned doctor from here, but now living in Chicago. A huge heart and a mind to match. Again, words fail to express the quality. We had 8 people here at first, but are now down to 3, including myself. We have 2 dentists coming down from Canada in a couple days, but by the month’s end I will be here by myself for a while.

We’ve been pretty busy. So far this week I’ve helped to get the school hooked up to the internet (which is the IT testing ground for the clinic), the dental equipment set up at the existing medical facility, and distribute a bunch of donated clothes and supplies. Some of the others focused on school curriculum while a few are concentrating on women’s’ health issues and abuse. Good things are happening here. At least for the moment.

The plans for the new hospital have finally been approved. Unfortunately, the contractor and engineer just decided to postpone the groundbreaking for a few months, because of the coming rainy season. Can’t say it’s not disappointing, but neither was is surprising. Too early to tell how that will effect the length of my stay here. We’ll see what happens on Super Tuesday.

Fortunately, however, I somehow inherited the position of girls volleyball coach. The kids here love the game and play whenever they are not in class. When not at school, they run nets across the narrow dirt streets and play ‘til dark. They’re really good too. I’ve got a few girls who could make any junior high team in San Diego. And they play barefoot on concrete court. I played with them last week, and discovered they only had three balls. So, today I got a ride back to Moyobamba and bought them 10 brand new ones. I can’t wait to see their faces.


I also had the opportunity to take a boat ride up the Rio Mayo (one of the tributaries of the Amazon) to a nature reserve called Tingana. Once there, we got in smaller paddleboats and went further into what translates as an “amphibious jungle.” Didn’t see any monkeys, which they typically do, but the scenery was still quite spectacular. Some crazy looking bugs here, for sure. This is certainly not the place for anyone squeamish about insects.

After one week’s time now, and getting a glimpse of what things are going to be like, I have to say things are good. Despite the delay on the hospital, I think the future will be as fulfilling as it will be adventurous. It’s been continually enlightening from one minute to the next. Definitely a lot to digest. But to wash it all down, I just saw rain fall harder than I’ve ever witnessed in my life. If that’s what’s to come soon, I better start on my arc. The power went out (and is still), just as an equally impressive electrical storm started -- which I could see perfectly from my 2nd story balcony. (The only one in town.) Just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, the fireflies came out. The Amazon definitely is extraordinary. I can’t wait to see more…

Ciao!