Inca Trail Trek

Peru is a country that my bitty Michelle and I have wanted to visit for a long time. We are both avid travelers, and speak Spanish pretty well for Gringos. Last year we had become friends with a Peruvian couple who she met while attending NYU. They announced they were getting married, and invited us to the matrimony and fiesta in Lima. This was a once in lifetime event, and we had to attend.

Aside from the wedding, our other obvious destinations were the Incan capital city, Cuzco; and the ancient Incan sanctuary, Machu Picchu.

After an incredible wedding that deserves it own story, Michelle and I boarded a bus that arrived in Cuzco 24 hours later. We would reach Cuzco a few days before the New Years 2010 celebration, and would need that time to acclimate ourselves to the city that sits at over 10,000 feet above sea level.

A few hours after the bus departed, we passed a mangled double-decker passenger bus, with ambulances present, and its passengers standing outside. The bus was the same model as the one we were riding, and I had read about the crazy accidents that happened on that two-lane, cliff-scaling road. Seeing this accident had me worrying the remainder of our ride. Slowly and rapidly, though rain and lightning we drove. I could not help but look down the cliff faces that dropped into an abyss just a few feet from the tires. I would have sold my soul for a guardrail! 24 nerve-racking hours later, we arrived in Cuzco, and I could not have been happier!

We spent the next few days wondering around the ancient city, and enjoying the local atmosphere. Cuzco is a charming town that has managed to keep its quaint authentic vibe among all of the tourism and ex-patriots.

On New Years Eve we gathered with thousands of others in the city center, La Plaza de Armas. As the clock struck Midnight, the crowd began yelling, kissing and lighting off fireworks. As Michelle and I were cheersing the strangers next to us, a bottle rocket hit the Champaign bottle in her hand, exploding it and covering us in glass, Champaign, and smoke. We were startled but not injured. Starting our year with a bang, we were ready to trek the Inca Trail.

Our guide picked us up January 2nd along with 10 Argentineans, 2 Koreans, and a Mexican; our group for the 48 Kilometer trek. This being the wet season, we expected a slower pace due to the mud and rain, and would climb over 3,000 feet in elevation, and reach Machu Piccu in 4 days.

The first day was physically the easiest. The terrain was relatively flat, and prepared us for the second day’s uphill battle. We began to see archeological sites, and the mountainous landscape was breathtaking. I began to feel the pain of schlepping my 17 Kilo backpack, and that night I shed as much weight as possible. I donated clothing and my extra shoes to a grateful family living in the Andes.

Day two was strenuous and not stop climbing. We were deep into the mountains, and the magnitude of our journey began to register. It was exciting to be in such a magical place, but the physical challenge was intense. Our bodies were in pain from the heavy backpacks and relentless rocky terrain. When the guide pointed to the peak that was our destination, we knew it would be difficult to get there, but possible. Some members of our group turned back to take the train, but we were determined to continue. Hours later, and after many breaks, we reached the summit know as the Dead Woman’s Pass. We rested at the top for a while and enjoyed the view before beginning our descended towards base camp.

The third day was the most difficult. My body was exhausted and my stomach was in knots. Against the advice of our guide, I drank the stream water without purifying it, and now know first hand why that is a bad idea.

The rain was very aggressive that day. We had ponchos, but they were not impenetrable. The view was supposedly spectacular, but we could not see much due to the fog and rain clouds. When we arrived at our campsite that night our cloths and sleeping bags were soaked. Sleeping was difficult, but the reality that Machu Piccu was so close, made the night bearable.

We got up extra early that morning to be first in line when the park gates opened at 5:30AM. We wanted tickets to climb Huanu Piccu, the mountain right behind Machu Piccu. Huanu Piccu has a panoramic view of the whole area, and limited amounts of people are permitted to hike this peak each day. To get tickets we had to go to the other park entrance where the train lets off near Aguas Calientes. We raced across the park, trying not to be passed by other hikers also seeking Huanu Piccu tickets, but we arrived too late. The people who took the train from Cuzco got the tickets first.

Still thrilled to have arrived, we waited for our group and our tour to begin. Our guide explained to us the history of what we were seeing, and we learned about how everything the Incans built was significant. From the shapes of the rocks used in building, to their location to the sun everything was well calculated. The accomplishments of this ancient culture were impressive, and the potential they could have reached had the Spanish never conquered them will never be known.

We spent the rest of the morning sunbathing and reflecting on where we where, and what we had just accomplished. As we walked down to the train in Aguas Calientes it began raining again. That rain continued for two weeks and caused the recent flooding and tourist evacuations. We had completed our journey just in time. The Inca Trail may never again be the same.

An Israel Birthright Story that should have been published, those fools!

Wear your shades and keep your eyes open. How an entrepreneurial spirit and love for sunglasses opened a door while in Israel.

While strolling down Ben Yahuda Street in Jerusalem with my new Israeli friend, I wandered into a local sunglasses store for a brand called X-Ray. From the five minutes I spent there, I have conceived a business opportunity that could change my life.

I have always had a mania for sunglasses. Sporting cool shades has been my thing since I began to develop my style somewhere around the change of the millennium. Through the experiences of my life, many sunglasses have come and gone, but my desire to acquire new cool ones is as strong as ever!

The summer morning of July 23 2009 my Sachlav group of 40 Americans had just been introduced to eight Israeli solders in uniform. Three females and five males also in their young twenties. They would now be traveling with us for the second half of our trip.

While serving their country, Israeli soldiers can also apply to participate in the Taglit program. They are not there for protection, but are on leave. They too partake in all of the activities along side us, and give the group a local dynamic. It is a great means of introducing the two cultures, and without this element, I would have gone to Israel, and only really gotten to know Americans.

That day we went on a walking tour of Jerusalem and I just happened to fall in line with the three female soldiers. Never one to knowingly let a good opportunity pass by I decided to introduce myself and spark up a conversation. We went over all of the icebreaker stuff like: where we live, what we do, what we thought of the birthright experience, and about our lives in general.

After walking around for a few hours we broke for lunch right near a local marketplace. I wanted an authentic falafel and we had stumbled upon a food stand that smelled really tasty. We arrived right behind a large group of English Speakers who were trying to figure out what to order and taking a long time as tourist tend to do. I told Lily to just creep up the side and quickly tell our simple order to the proprietor in Hebrew. It was a solid plan as we began eating as they were still ordering.

The girls impressed me with their stories revealing their tank operational skills, and educated me on the military requirements of Israeli youth. We also talked about me. They thought it was very cool that I have been living and working in Costa Rica, and said how they will come visit and travel Central America after they are discharged from the service.

Later that night we were given some free time to explore on our own without being confined to the group. My new friend Orian and I decided to window shop the open aired promenade called Ben Yahuda. This area is full of souvenir shops, outdoor cafes, street performers and all of the people who go along with it. It is a funky outdoor pedestrian street, with a hipster appeal in an old world setting. It reminded me of a combination of Universal City Walk in Los Angeles and La Rambla in Barcelona.

As I meandered around one of the planets most historic city and flirted with this blond bombshell of a soldier, life was pretty damn good. This is what dudes dream about when they learn they will be traveling to Israel.

Originally, I was never that excited to go on the birthright trip. I had applied to go the year before and I was rejected. The following month I struggled to get my Payaneer card reimbursed and I was left with a bad taste in my mouth.

I was also a bit nervous about going to Israel. Never about my physical well being, but about my mental. I was scared that the trip would be one big religious pitch about how I should be more Jewish or pray more. I don’t like zealots and am not comfortable around people who try to push their religion on me.

I am a proud Jew but not religious at all. I do not pray to God, and question a few religious principals. I am however proud of my Jewish culture and heritage. I am happy to carry my peoples’ history in my bloodline. My impartiality towards religion had decreased my desire to visit Israel.

Fortunately, I had one friend who recently went on the Birthright Israel trip and when he returned he was raving about how awesome the experience was. He visited the historic sites, he partied, he experienced the culture, he hooked up, the hummus was the best, etcetera. And the best part was he did it all at for about $300 out of pocket.

Again I was sold ,and this time I decided to apply with my younger brother. It was his first application and as expected he got rejected. I was accepted, but there was a catch... The group I was traveling with, and more importantly the plane ticket was round trip to Israel from NYC. This year there was lack of flights from the West Coast, which is my jump-off point. This was a result of the slumping economy, and I heard rumors of Bernie Madoff’s ponzi scheme effecting donors. Regardless, they told me I could still go from New York if I wanted, and that I was lucky to have a ticket. I agreed.

Living in Costa Rica at the time, I had applied for a trip from Los Angeles the city where I was born and raised, and the place my family still lived. After slight hesitation about spending my money and vacation time to go to NYC/Israel instead of visiting my family in LA I proceeded to make arrangements to go to New York.

Before I knew it, I was at Newark Liberty International Airport meeting my councilors and getting my plane ticket. I introduced my self and I got in line with the rest of the people on my flight for a pre screening.

As a security measure the Israeli Airline El Al has its employees question all of the people who will board their aircraft and enter Israel. This screening is standard practice when boarding one of their flights due to the high threat that is unrelenting on their country. All of their pilots are from the Israeli Air force and they are one of the safest airlines in the world.

Before I checked my bag, I was asked if I had a Bar Mitzvah and about my Torah Portion, and a few other things about being Jewish and my birthright trip. After some quick thinking and charisma I passed his exam quicker than most, and was able to proceed to standard security. Luckily I was able to hide my flue like symptoms for a few minuets, this at the peak of the swine flue scare, and questions about health were common.

As I was sitting at my window seat two young guys sat down next to me. They were part of my group and are also from LA. Ironically they too were sick with a terrible coughs, while I could not stop sneezing. We were getting along well, and it turned they needed a third guy to room with. We decided it would be best to keep the germs close, and room swine flue was born.

I really got along well with my two roommates and have hung out with them since in Los Angeles. There were a lot of cool Jewish kids on my trip, from around the United States and then Israel. The dynamic created from all of the different personalities is fascinating and my peers really added to the enjoyment of the trip.

With the other American Kids we were encouraged to also talk about Jewish topics and not just pop culture or sports or whatever. We talked about our ancestry, our experience with anti-Semitism, the state of Israel and things of that nature. As we traveled and did all of the activities there was a lot of time to bond and get to know one another.

The bonding experience was enhanced with the introduction of the Israeli solders. We got to create friendships with other Jewish kids of our age, but they were from Israel. I learned that Israelis too can be laid back and not all of them are as hard core religious as I had previously thought.

While trying on different sunglasses with Orian, I was in paradise in this cool blue tiled store with a variety of fun shades that ranges from funky retro, to slick and sophisticated.
The store had a cool vibe with a lot of people buzzing around inside. I was happy with the apparent quality and perceived craftsmanship of the sunglasses, and when I saw the prices I knew I was walking out of there with a purchase.

Orian and I decided that I looked damn good in a tortuous brown pair called “Harolds”. They look like aviators but made of acetate instead of a wire frame. They have big bug eye lenses, but a look that is a bit rugged but still very sleek. I bought them for 90 Shekel which was less than $25.

In the days that followed other kids in my group had noticed that I had bough a pair of sunglasses and had complimented my new look. After telling them about my experience others had regretted not noticing the store and wished they had gone with me. The compliments on my sunglasses continued when I was in New York after the trip.

A few days after the trip ended I spent the night at Rockaway Beach in Queens visiting a buddy of mine. The following morning, on my way back to the city, I stumbled up the outdoor subway’s stairs still feeling the aftermath from the night before. It was a hot summer day and I was still inebriated which is ideal sunglasses wearing conditions.

As I got to the platform it was completely empty except for two police officers. As I walked pass them they said I had just missed the train and since this was the last stop I would be waiting for a while. He then looked at me and told me that he liked my sunglasses and asked me about them. I then proceeded to tell them the story and let them try them on. We chatted for a few minutes then I went and took a seat on a near by bench. This was the most pleasant interaction I have ever had with an officer of the law.

It got me thinking about how cool the glasses were, and I decided that I wanted to get my girlfriend and brother a pair. I did not know how to contact X-Ray, but I figured that a company with a solid product and a store as cool as the one I visited, would be easy to find on the Internet.

I searched long and hard for any information on the company. I used multiple search engines, using various key words, and searching very specifically for the brand. My inability to find the company was especially frustrating to me as a marketer who knows the importance of driving web traffic and how they were loosing out on potenial sales. aI was loosing hope for ever finding them when finally, I was able to find a girls blog entry describing the same store I visited. In her post she had an X-Ray hyperlink, so I clicked on it and voila! I was redirected to what appeared to be the companies website.

After my first impression it became apparent why I had so much trouble finding the site. It was very incomplete, with a poor user interface and difficult to navigate. It was just very jankey in general. There was however a contacts link with a valid email address. I wrote an email asking about making a purchase. As a dialog grew between the rep and my self I told them my story and said I had some possible ideas regarding advancing their company’s reach.

After a lot of back an forth, we are finally in the process of working out a deal. X-Ray will be launching a new sunglasses line this spring, and they are working on a new website to coincide with the launch. My girlfriend and I (she is also my business partner) are developing their SEO/SEM plan and creating a brand awareness strategy for their website to market their new line.

I created this opportunity out of thin air. I took a shot and it appears to be working. If our relationship continues to grow I would like to expand with this company, and eventually bring X-Ray to the Americas. By the time this is published our plan should be well underway. Hopefully, X-Ray has become a recognized brand, especially among young Jews. If you are not familiar, go Google it, and if I am doing my job right there should be no problem finding our media and linking to the website. This is just the beginning as I foresee many possible opportunities, and none of this would have been possible if I had not taken advantage of my Birthright!

very painful.: pilonidal cysts.

Just got mine removed this morning. 4" long and it was infected. Doctor said it came out nice and clean, however it was larger than he first anticipated. I have some body hair, but am not that hairy of a man. I had my first flare almost 7 years ago, and have had it drained 2 other times since then. I am able to walk but sitting is a pain in the ass. I have a total of 40 stitches, 20 inside and 20 on the surface. Hopefully they stay stitched and good news comes at my follow up in 2 weeks.

New York State of Mind

Ok I have way been lagging on writing anything here and I have no real excuse. I have been around and I owe some sort of documentation. You can find me in New York, starting this randomly at 2:08 AM. I can't sleep. Maybe that is beacuse I work evenings or nights if thats what you want to call it ( I get off at 11PM). Wait I guess I need to backtrack. You are probably thinking, "What? this fool is working in New York?"

To that I must say: Yes. Im sure it is not what would have been expected of me, but then again what is? So yea the job is lame and not even worth mentioning aside from the point that it is income and eats into my happy hour time. This could be a blessing in disguise, even though I hate it. Happy hour combines two of my favorite things: drinking and being frugal.

So I have been here about a month, and heres what I think.

There are way too many people in NYC. Manhattan that is. I guess the other boroughs are more spread out but this island is fucking packed. Im not that fond of it. Too many people, where is my space? Now dont get it twisted because you probably know Im out her living with my girl and we live in a flat. Or a studio if you want to sound gay about it. So there are no walls and we pretty much live on top of one another and there is no privacy here either. Its mad chill with her though, not a problem! Its out side that is too over crowded and annoying. Populations control? Maybe the government did create crack or aids.... Don't judge me

Jay walking is very sick. To think I got a ticket for it in pussy law Arizona once. Here it is like a game of frogger. You gotta take the most direct angles, not wanting to wast a second. I don't tip taxi drivers. They pick you up and are on the phone the whole time speaking some language from the Fertile Crescent or India or somewhere in between. I dont care if you paid everything you have to bring your family over and a medallion, a tip is earned by someone who does something extra, warranting a tip. These dudes do not. Some smell way foul. Sounds cruel but thats is life.

The worst part about my experience is Door Men. I fucking hate having one in my building, this I cannot explain in words. I can not blame my girl as she was a tiny female living alone in a big city, and they kept her safe and if that is what they are for then I am glad. Now with that said, I fucking hate living in a place where they are present. My immediate family lives in a guard gated community and I hate that ( I will save that for another time)! You must walk by this person every time you want to leave or enter your apartment. Now I dont like talking to any other people I dont want to, and this is the worst. A casual whats up every time just to be cordial. I hate it. I now regularly hesitate about leaving the place or try to make things done in one trip to avoid the inevitable awkward whats up or head nod or eye contact as I enter or leave the building. I feel very uncomfortable being around them. I have worked hard to conceal my whereabouts from a majority of people over the past X amount of years, and now I have these fucking guys who know when I come and go! It drives me nuts. It is all that I think about for a good 5+ minutes anticipating the interaction and how bad it will suck! I don't know what is wrong with me but it cannot stand their presence. I must change topics.

I went to a Jewish Syrian wedding. It was in Brooklyn. My friend Gina invited me. We met in Israel on Brithrigh. (Yes I went to Israel, I have a lot of catching up to do) She told me to meet her at her place around 9:30 on Tuesday night. She invited me the night before the wedding and was like " yea they're Syrian, it wont start till 11PM and will go till 4AM (Tuesday mind you). Anyone is invited, there are no seating arrangements its just a party." This all turned out to be correct. The bride walked the isle at 11:45PM and the party started at 12:30. People were lighting up smokes before they could walk out of the Synagog. The food was all sushi and asian. I guess they don't really have pork or cheese, so kosher is easy. It was great food, also an open bar, I dug it. Stupid old school custom took place, not only were men and women separated at the service but also on the dance floor. At first I thought it was weird ( I can be a homophobe, but only around actual gay men, more importantly the only person I knew is my friend Gina and to be together we kinda just stood in the back and ate and drank) I began feeling good off the free Johnny Black, and started to dance with the men. I learned the lightbulb dance. Just kinda move in a circle and act like you are unscrewing a bulb with one hand and screwing on in with the other. I started talking to the barmaid in Spanish and convinced her to let me take the rest of the Johnny bottle home with me, and that no one would notice. She told me to put it in my jacket. Its still on the shelf crackin, Epic win

I went to Rockaway to visit my good buddy from CR. Turns out that on that day he just got suspended (hopefully not terminated) from his city life guard job he has had for years. A few days earlier there was a drowning a few miles down from where he is normally stationed. This tragedy occurred on an un life guarded beach. Also that day a lot of others were saved by hard working life guards doing their job going un-recognized. The following day a reporter came down to the beach looking for a story. This day was a stormy one that shut down the beach due to lightning. My buddy was chilling at his post on an empty beach listening to the weather report on his headphones when the reported approached. The repoter asked a few basic questions looking for a story. As he left he snapped pic of my homie with his headphones on as he left. Next day front page news is along the lines of how can lifeguards save lives if they cant hear? Good point but total libel. In the pic you can see the shit conditions that had the beach closed down and not one person in the water let alone on the sand. Not to mention they don't require hearing tests like they do vision screenings. So even though it would be inappropriate for an on duty guard to be with headphones on, hearing tests are never administered. Basically my boy got canned after getting bullshit slandered the previous day. Funny thing is how I just happened to be out there as all of this was going on and it was the talk of the town. All of the other life guards were upset as they know how good of at his job he was, but still as friends do still had to bust his balls by each bringing copies of the paper over. Good to see friends are like that no matter where. The next day he even had a political cartoon about him. Sharks eating the surfer and all. First time I have ever known anyone with their own political cartoon. Reality is that its a shame, I know this guy and would trust loved ones lives to swim under his supervision. The guys a fish. And I dont mean at the bar like I am. Guess its a good excuse to move back out the country. Dale mop.

*Family and the law skip the below paragraph

Weed is delivered to your door by a dude you dont know and he doesn't know you. You call a number and a dispatcher dude answers, you drop a name, ( just a first name, and you dont have to say how you know them) and a dude rolls over. They just ask your address and stop on by. Dude comes up, opens a big ass bag, with lots of little plastic rectangular jars each with a sticker and bud name on it. You say which ones you want, pay, and the guy bounces. Shits expensive, but its fire, and mad convenient. Surprised they don't get pinched, or maybe they do, as it seems risky as fuck. Not for the buyer but the seller. I can think of a lot of ways to jack a dude like that or for the 50 to swoop on them, but everyones got their hustle.

The population of gay dogs her is astronomical. If you would have asked me the bread types of these beasts a month ago I would have identified them with: little gay lap dog, as I have never known any of these breeds. I try to be sympathetic as it is my species that has manipulated these creatures to their current state that has rendered them snake food in any natural setting. Yorkies, mini pinchers, maltese, and these poor little toy breeds are around to give women and their spineless boyfriends something to accessorize. Now there They are ideal for apartment living... because they require small amount of exercise. The saddest thing is when they are dressed up in clothing to be cute. I kinda almost understand the rain coat, but the way it is done it is so not purposefull, and done for style. Another dislike of mine are dogs bread with poodle. I have come to notice in my short time here ( I have never really seen poodles before, have you?) they are agressive as hell. Also they are ugly as hell. I guess due to their easy on allergy fur, which I assume is a cover to follow a gay trend to get a poodle, they are popular to breed with. Results in a bunch of strudel doodle cockadoodle mixes, all gay

Diverse people everywhere. Races, income levels, styles, ethnicities, attitudes all different. Look around the subway car, you see everyone. I like that.

Grab a slice of pizza at any corner. As a matter of fact every street block you walk down there are at least 3 reasteraunts with chalkboards out front soliciting you with their happy hours or specials of the day. If you walk around enough your bound to find something that satisfies your palette as well as your wallet.

Thats what I got for now.

Annoyances of Traveling

Now if you know me, which you should, you would know that traveling is one of my favorite ways to spend my leisure time. It ranks up there with eating In-N-Out, chillin with Saint Dog, and imbibing. However when one decides to exit their comfort zone and experience new places, people, and things; uncomfortable situations occur.

You also should know that I can be very cynical and critical, but don’t get it twisted, I am very go with the flow. The following are just interpretations of some of my views and a critique, but in my style.

To put it more bluntly when traveling I observe, and the following things piss me off!

First I must admit that I am a hypocrite in some of these situations, as I partake in a lot of the following bull shit that is ruining travel. However the first step to recovery is admittance, and I just took that one.

So in no particular order…

Travel Books:

Are you looking for the most unadventurous, trendy, on the beaten path manner to see a foreign destination? Pick up a Guide book and follow it to a T! Lonely Planet, Fromers, and Footprint all are written by a bunch of lucky bastards, (of whose profession I am jealous), and there is an overbearing abundance of goobers who follow these things like the state of Utah does the Book of Mormon.

I have owned the too popular “LP” (I hate when they call it that) and a Footprint and they do provide some good information. My buddy Chris, who has traveled much more of this world than I have once told me “ yes Lonely Planet is good to have for a reference, but only as a reference and you would be a fool to travel with it as your only source” or something along those lines.

The huge problem is a majority of travelers uses these books directly against Chris’s advice, and they all congregate in the same spots and its not a authentic experience. When I did take the advice of my travel book I found my self thinking, “oh perfect this is why I came to Colombia, to hang out with a bunch of Irish and Australian guys, and pick up on some stupid sounding English.”

As these books have made traveling more convenient they have also created “Gringo Trails”. This takes away from a big part of traveling, being away from the norm, and emersion in something new.

Backpackers:

Ok, not all of them but the douche bag ones. The ones who live by their travel books. They make me think “why did you leave your country.” I want to complement people for wanting to get out of their home and experience a different cultures and places, but if you go you should do just that! I want to castigate the “Backpackers” who travel for months in big groups, don’t learn a lick of the local language, and live by Lonely Planet.

Taking pictures:

People go to a location, bust out the camera, and immediately take as many pictures as possible.

Commonly, travelers will arrive at a historical landmark, impressive natural scene, or point of interest, and skip over the conveniently placed informational sign to describe the thing you are looking at. They will proceed to take a bunch of pictures to show people that they were there, and that is that.

There is always the concern of getting the picture, and this takes away from the actual joy of being there in the present time.

People refer to certain places and say: “heres a great place to take a picture so get your cameras ready”. It seems that taking the picture has become more important than actually seeing the site.

This also occurs when going out at night. People want to bring the camera to take funny drunken pictures. Sounds incriminating to me, I tend to act a fool when drinking, and I am not a fan of evidence. Also you can never get every one in, and the photos have to be taken multiple times.

“Oh wait, we have to take that one again, Billy wasn’t in it.”

Now I agree it is fun to look back at photos to reminisce, but not at the inconvenience of the moment.


Facebook:

Probably the main reason people take photos in the first place. To tag people and share with all their friendsies!


Again I am a hypocrite as of course I have an account, as does anyone who has access to the internet.

My beef is the people who abuse it and there fore are addicted. It’s a vicious pattern. You get a Lonely Planet, you go to Backpacker hostels, you meet others who are the same as you, you exchange facebook friend requests, you share pictures, and make little cute comments.
ITS FUCKIN GAY!

If it weren’t such a great networking tool, I would delete it right now!


Asians in SARS masks:

I am not one to be racist or stereotype but this is dead on. I have been in a few airports recently, and only Asians are wearing these masks, and they are doing it in numbers.

Here is a ratio.

6,767,555,800: 263

The global population : People who have died from Swine Flue.

Do the math, you will not get it.

Just learn to wash your hands more often, use a condom, and stay away from suspect looking people and you will be fine.



Israelis:

Generally I don’t object to people who are introverts, I actually encourage their presence. I my self am not a fan of being around people who are supper outgoing and want to make mindless chitchat with me regarding shit that is none of their business. But Israelis taken standoffishness it to a whole different level.

They travel together in large packs, and tend to always meet up with other Jew packs, and are pretty much rude to all outsiders. Not a good way to travel.

I did meet 2 chill ones out of the bunch, but the majority seemed to reject others if you were not born in the promised land. I told one that I was part of the tribe, and he was astonished as this piece of info came to him right after I asked for his bacon.

He ordered a hot dog at a convenience stand that was right next to a soccer field where we just played. It came with cheese and bacon. At first I was shocked at the fact that he would order a hot dog as that does not sound too kosher, but he did. He then sent it back when it had cheese on it.

I asked him for his bacon and said sure. He then proceeded to explain to this Irish guy and me that he was kosher and what it meant and I said yea I know Im Jewish. He then was astonished that I had ate his bacon.

I said yea that if he wanted to get down to it I don’t belief in God and if there is a God it would be a fool for not allowing people to eat bacon!

He did not like this comment.

If eating a bacon is a sin, then send me to the inferno and I will eat bacon with Satan and Michael Jackson.

Traveling in large groups:

I like to go do my own thing on my own time. Being with others on their agenda is a pain in the ass! One other person who is on my level is cool. More than that is a hassle.

The exception to this is when I am with my Grandparents. They have earned the right to take their time and I enjoy accommodating them.

When I am doing independent traveling and get stuck with a bunch of people who want to go together this is a problem.

Your with some people about to do something and wait, one more guy wants to come. But wait he needs to shower first. Oh and not a quick shower, he wants to rub one out in there while he is doing it.

I lose tolerance for this quick.

I want to do my things when I want to do them and your agenda does not fit in.

Kapish?!

Computers with time limits:

Like the one I am currently on! I have to cut this short because there are others waiting.


PS: Im sure I sound like an asshole after this entry. Which is pretty accurate. However I have been traveling 3rd world lately, and I am now being pampered on a nice Cruise/Bus adventure. It is a tough reverse culture shock for me and I am still adapting. I am really enjoying my self, but part of me is bitter.

I love my family and friends more than words can describe.

Peace

Some reflection on Colombia

-THE FEMALES ARE SMOKING HOT!

There are so many great things that happened to me in this country, but I would not qualify as an actual dudebro if I did not start with this topic. Generations of fornication between Latinos, Europeans, local Indians, and imported black slaves from Africa has resulted in the procreation of beautiful, exotic, divas who arouse from far away. Mestizo at its best!

The bodies are curvy like a cello! Thick apple bottoms with the epitome of the tuck; and bosoms so round, perky, and voluptuous. The accent in which they speak Spanish is also incredibly sexy. An accent is not something you can easily describe in written text, but let me say it is the sexiest dialect I have ever heard. Much sweeter sounding than the half tongued tone of Central America, the vulgar whiny sounding Mexican, the lispie gay sounding Spanish of Spain, the uncomprehendable speak of the Caribbean Islands, or the wannabe Italian Argentinean dialect. The Paisas (what the females are referred to as down there) even smell bomb.

I have never seen such a high concentration of sexy bitties in my life, and I went to ASU! Ok well maybe at ASU, but sexy Latina Momies tan RICAS, estan solas!

Walking around Cartagena me and my British buddy Mat could not stop pointing out the next hot chick who was walking by. This was very hard to do because there are so many. College campuses are a good observation point.

Medellín, or Latin Silicon Valley, as it is referred to by people who think they are funny, is very famous for breast implants. So yea there is a lot of that there. I prefer real titties but I did not complain.

In the country there is a plethora of 10s and I would say that the median of hot chicks who would rank is an 8! Think about that one for a minute!

-THE PEOPLE ARE SUPPER HOSPITABLE!

As a country Colombia is the third largest consumer of our Vision Screeners, following the USA and the UK respectively. Therefore, we have a lot of clients there, and one of the many things I do at Saco is customer relations. With that said I have a few contacts in Colombia. A vast majority of my relationships with clients is via email and phone, but I always casually and jokingly inform them that I will eventually make it to their part of the world and would love to meet them personally. This is my slick way of casually inviting my self to stay at their home. And it works!

In Cali I stayed with customer of ours ,Randy Hurtado, and his Mother Esther.

Esther is from NY but has lived in Colombia for about 50 years. She is an artist whos passion is painting, and her works of art that are up in her studio easily museum quality. They could easily pass as the work of Rembrandt or Velazquez. This was the first time I have personally met such a great artist!

She brings her watercolors to a location and paints what she is observing in a little book. She then takes that book to her studio and works on a larger canvas. Again this is the best artist I have ever met in my life. Beautiful work! Also she is an incredible salsa dancer. It was incredible to see a woman the same age as my Grandma and Nana move so gracefully to the rifts of the salsa rhythm. So full of life, energy, and strong spirit. An incredible woman!

Randy her son was born in Cali, but went to school in Tennessee, and is the definition of 100% bi-lingual. Aside from that he is a great man, who unbeknownst to him, he indirectly taught me a lot about how to live life.

Randy had work to do that night when I arrived so I took a taxi directly to his house, where his mother and maid were awaiting me. When I arrived I was greeted with open arms and presented to the loft where Randy has a computer and flat-screen with Direct TV. I was just chilin checking email and enjoying being in a nice big modern home after traveling for a few weeks, when Esther comes up with a fresh squeezed juice and a full dinner plate. Sweet!

The food and hospitality proceeded like this my whole stay there in Cali. When I woke up I was made breakfast, if I was around I got lunch, and dinner was made for me when I got back in the evening. Good fresh food too! Randy's girlfriend and her son Pablo (age 9) were hanging out all weekend, and I got to get to know them too. We went to a local river and hiked around and got wet in the rapids.

We later hung out in his yard laying around the pool. Pablo and I played catch with a baseball, badminton, and went swimming. He was a cool kid and it made me think of playing with my little brother. I am now looking forward to going home and messing around with Mexican Andrew.

I am supper glad I was able to spend this time with Randy and his family. Great time spent with awesome people and an invaluable part of my trip.

A few days later in Medellín I randomly ran into this Austrian guy Jorj who I met earlier in Cartegena. Small world. We then decided to go check out a part of the city and just wander around. We get on the metro and instantly he starts talking with a girl he is seated next to. Her name is Erica. She then asks us if we want to party and meet her friends, and of course we say Sí!

We then proceeded to go to her barrio in the NorthEast part of Medellín. This is an area not frequented by Gringos and is kind of a ghetto area. She introduces us to her house mates, Omar, Marta, and MyLady (that was her name) and we then go get some booze at the store next door and go chill on the top of the roof. Slowly but surely friends of theirs start to come up to the roof as this is their place to come after work and just chill and unstress. We are partying all throughout the night, going through boxes of aguardiente (Colombian Liquor), beer, matas, and basically pegando la cachimba!

Two of these dudes used to be break dancers and love rap and all of the hip hop culture. You best belive we did some freestylin. We also had some deep conversations about global politics, the world's perception of Colombia, how we are privileged to travel and how they could never afford to do what we are doing, and if people would invite strangers into their home like this in our country?

It was pretty tough for me to answer some of these questions, as I felt that these people were intelligent, just stuck in a shitty situation. I guess we all cant be lucky sperm. I told them that they are more than welcome to come to my home if they ever make it to the United States, or wherever I end up living. And that I wish the best for all of them.

For example, Marta is part of the first group in the city who is now doing social work advancing woman's rights as the culture is still very Machista where men are very dominate. She was a very well spoken and intelligent woman. She then proceeded to inform me on the woman's suffrage movement in the US of 1913 and Susan B. Anthony and all that. I was pretty impressed.

In an nutshell these people were supper cool with me and Jorj!

Nice things they did for two perfect strangers:

Let two random dudes into their home.

Cooked dinner for us.

Provided party favors.

Tried to teach us how to dance.

And most importantly called in a favor with a taxi driver. He had a friend taxi driver come and pick us up at 3 AM, as 2 Gringos cannot just take any random taxi, especially in these parts. Kidnapping and robbery are a reality, and precaution must be taken.

This night provided me with a real Colombian experience. A night like this is something that one would never encounter if they stuck to the Gringo trail, and only went to the touristy spots. I thank all of them for adding to my Colombian experience!



When in Bogotá I stayed with another contact I have made at Keystone View, my good buddy Martin Peralta. He is an Argentinian man who met his Colombian wife in Orlando, Florida as he lived there from 2002-2005. You would not know this however due to his non existing English speaking capability. Just goes to show there are a lot of Latinos in the States.

Martin and his wife (Shes is from Bogotá and I forgot her name, so lets call her Martina) met in Orlando and decided to move to Colombia and start a business and a family. They now have a 3 year old son and a one year old daughter. Their son is not well behaved, maybe its the age, but I will not tolerate the behavior displayed by this child when I have one of my own. Whiny, running around hitting me, throwing his food, disobedient, and the like. I would have laid the smack down.

They also have their own business, a practice providing the tests needed to get a drivers license. In Colombia there are private practices that provide the service of administering various exams to patients in order to get a license. Martin and Martina have 2 of these practices. Aside from a vision test the government also requires an audio test, a psychological test and a general health examination. For each of these tests they need a specialist to administer the exam.

Martin and Martina are the warmest most caring couple I have ever met! He picked me up in his car at the bus stop when I got in, took me to dinner, bought us some beers, and brought me to his house. The whole time we were touring around the city he would not let me pay for anything, and insisted that I was his guest and that he wanted to take care of me.

An example of how caring they are:

It is Saturday night, my last night in Colombia before I go back to Costa Rica. We did some sight seeing and the plan was to go pick up an ex employee, Rosario, who we would be dropping off at the buss station that night as she will be moving to Cali. He proceeded to explain to me Rosario's situation and how the met her and what she was doing. It proceeded like this....

Two years ago Martina saw Rosario looking for food out of a trash can in front of their office while holding a 3 month old baby. As anyone should feel perturbed to see such a thing, Martina felt inclined to do something. She approached Rosario and offered to buy them food. Rosario of course accepted and this and wanted to figure out a way to keep good relations and maybe get more help from Martina. Turns out that Rosario is a drug abuser addicted to heroin, cocaine, and god knows what else. Martin and Martina decided that they wanted to help Rosario kick her addictions, and try to provide her son with some type of future.

Martin and Martina offered Rosario a job cleaning their building and doing very basic tasks. She would not earn money, as that can easily be used to buy drugs, but was offered trips to the market to buy food and close for her and her son. Also part of the deal was that Rosario had to go to therapy one hour a day to try to get some psychological counseling. This worked out because as part of their practice they have a psychologist, so when he was not busy he spent time with Rosario.

Fast forward to present day and Rosario has now kicked the drug habit and is recovering well. Martin and Martina have contacted her family in Cali and arranged for her to now go live with her sister and mother there who are not crack heads. This is where she is going to go this Saturday night, but first we need to go pick her up.

Martin and Martina have bought her a cell phone and some minutes to contact her for this journey and to call them to inform as her safe arrival and her family when she was at the terminal. In Colombia it is pay as you go, not that contract bullshit we are forced into in the states. So they got her the phone as a going away gift. Just more genuine caring that they do.

As Martin and I are going to pick her up Martin point out to me a hill on our left and says that is Barrio Cazuca the most dangerous in Bogotá. He said not even the police go in there in small numbers. There are 2 dichos or sayings that they say about this area. "Entras si quieres, salgas si puedes" and " no llevas la machete, le da la machete" or in English "enter if you want, leave if you can" and "don't bring the machete they give you the machete".

Ok! So its a shady slum like that movie City of God. Good advice and well noted, I will not go there!

We then get to the spot where we are supposed to pick up Rosario and she is waiting with her baby in a dirty baby stroller, covered in mud. It will soon be apparent why. She is supposed to be ready to go from this meeting place. Martin then askes her where is the rest of her stuff? She said that no one would help her bring it down so we have to drive up to her house in Cazuca to go get it.

Martin looks at me nervously as we are already committed to get Rosario to the buss stop, so we have to go to this shady area to complete the mission. FUCK!

Martin proceeds to drive and she says not to worry as she is very well know and loved in this area, and God is with us and this area is a paradise on Gods great earth. Great a junkie conformed God freak. As we continue to drive up a hill through a slum, it seemed like her house was further and further up the hill. The road was not really a road either, more like a mud slip n' slide.

As we are climbing the hill the conversation was pretty much like this:

Martin" Aqui"

Rosario " No mas adelante, sigue"

Martin "Aqui"

Rosario " No, no por aca, mas adaelante"

We finally arrived and she passes Martin the baby, jumps out and runs into her shack. She proceeds to throw trashbags full of cloths into the back seat and a bunch of little kids are also carrying trashbags and putting them into the back seat. We back out and haul ass down the hill and out of the barrio.

We dropped Rosario off at the bus station and she called the next morning to let us know she made it safe to Cali. Hopefully she will start a new life and her son at least now has the opportunity to not grow up in a Favela.

That night we went out to drink a beer after the whole Rosario debacle, and Martin finally let me buy him a drink.

This couple went well beyond the call of duty to help a fellow human being and saved the life of a little boy. Growing up in that environment selling drugs and being a thug is all but inevitable.

This caring was apparent in the way that they took care of me in the few days before. But seeing what they had done for Rosario, was a big fat !

Fortunately I did not meet any crazy Guerrilla fighters nor anyone who wanted to kidnap me to do the Paseo de Millionario.

Not saying that they don't exist, but from my experience Colombia was a very friendly country glad to be rising out of the drug induced civil war of the past and embracing the future.

MAKE SURE YOU HAVE A YELLOW FEVER VACCINATION TO ENTER CENTRAL AMERICA FROM SOUTH AMERICA!

I never knew this was the case. They should tell you this when you buy a plane ticket. Get your shit together Taca!

I get to the airport in Bogotá an hour and a half before my flight, ignoring their advice of 3 hours. I go to the window to get my ticket and they ask me for my passport and my yellow fever certificate.

Me "What certificate?"

Her "To go to Costa Rica from here you need a certificate to get on the plane, with out it you can not go and should change your flight"

Me "Well Im getting on this flight, how do I get the certificate, can i do this here at the airport?"

Her " Yes but the vaccination needs to be in your blood stream for 10 days to take affect. You can get it but you will have to stay in Colombia for 10 days"

Now this does not work for me, I have a flight leaving for the states from Costa Rica in 5 days then go straight to Alaska, I gotta figure something out.

I go to the clinic and ask the girl working there for the vaccination. She said that she can give it to me and hopefully I can explain to the lady something and that they can let me on.

Ok I guess Ill try.

I go to back to the window and try to check in with a different lady and seemed in a big hurry as now there was like 50 minutes until my flight and I needed to go now as security is such a bitch. She said ok but I could not check my bag as baggage check for this flight is now closed and I had to run to the security. She then was about to hand me the ticket and then remembered to ask me for my passport and certificate. Shit I almost got away with it I thought. I gave her the documents and she said that this certificate is good but it was done today and I have to wait 10 days. I told her that I had the vaccine before but lost it and just got a new one. She told me to go get the girl at the clinic to write this on the certificate and they would let me on.

I ran back to the clinic and asked the girl to "find my previous vaccination in the system, and I would be grateful and love to help her how I could". She agreed and was able to find the record of my old vaccination I got on July 23 of 2004. I gave her all the aguardiente that I had in my bag, as I could not bring liquid on the plane, gave her my knives and some extra money I had. Well worth it! And thank god for the power of the dollar and some countries still working with a palm up!

I ran down to get my ticket and they said finally my certificate was good. I had to beg and plead with people to get me through the security lines as in Colombia they are a bitch. Im sure you understand why. First security like any normal airport. Then a thorough a customs process, then another security where they open your bags and do a body frisk.

As Im at the last security point, a girl from the airline comes and is screaming "Señor Gerson, Para San Jose"

Me: Si Voy!

I look at the guy with his hands in my bag like " Parce, dejame irme profa no llevo nada"

He understood and let me run to the terminal. I was the last to get on the plane and everyone was kinda looking at me like I was the asshole who didn't get to the airport 3 hours before my flight and didn't have my vaccination certificate.

Boy were they way off!

I entered Costa Rica with no problems, and Im pretty sure I didn't bring Yellow Fever! The good thing is I now have this certificate and I can now go to any dirty disease ridden country on the world!

It is an incredible how the mind works when it is forced to act in such a quick manner. Take away options and the brain will be forced to find a solution! Think fast!

Big ups to my old man too for answering my prayers!


THE LANDSCAPE IS BEAUTIFUL!

How can I go into beautiful green lush mountains, huge forests with waterfalls and cascades, big beautiful valleys, white beaches, jungles, awesome sunsets, rivers and all types of nice nature.

Well I just did.

Google image Colombia, its a really pretty country with everything, and Im over writing.

-IN CONCLUSION


Colombia is a great country and I am glad I was able to go and make my own opinion. That is the most important thing I learned on this journey. Nothing is more valuable than ones own instincts and experiences are priceless to help improve on this best of all intuitions!

I will be back to Colombia some day in the future, but with more time to explore and a valid yellow fever certificate!

Nos vemos pronto parces. Que chevére la cachimba!

Pirates of the Caribbean

I decided some time ago that since I have been living so close to South America (compared to the states) I really wanted to put my footprint on that continent. I have heard great things about Colombia from everyone who has been there, and horror stories from those who are clueless and have never been. I wanted to decide for my self.

Due to the Darien Gap, one of the wildest jungles on the earth, land travel across the southernmost point of the Panamanian isthmus is virtually impossible. Aside from being one of the thickest, wildest, untouched piece of wilderness on this planet, the only inhabitants are indigenous Indians who still live incredibly primitive, and FARC the Colombian gorilla fighters. Oh yea and thousands of different type of animals, including a shit load of malaria and dengue. The Panamerican Highway goes from Alaska down to Chile and only has one break, this is it.

Therefor the two logical means of getting from Central to South America are either air or sea ( it is possible to trek the Darien, but it is a bad idea and one must be out of their mind).

As air travel is quite boring and mundane, a sea adventure seemed like the sweeter option.

A pirats life for me!

This is quite common with travelers and there are often boats leaving from parts of Panama that arrive in parts of Colombia.

I found a catamaran, Ashanti, with its Captain Henry which was leaving in a few days, so I singed up and waited. Henry is a 50+ German sailor, probably the son of an Third Reich SS soldier. He is now living the lonely life of a sailor and it will soon be apparent why. Calling him socially awkward does not come close to doing the justice.

With a few days to go till I take off from the city I didn't have much to do as I had been around and seen all the sites. I proceeded to engage in one of my favorite pastimes, Binge Drinking. This continued up until and beyond Friday morning when I met at the pickup spot at 5AM to go to the boat. I met two of my fellow sailors, Nile and James, 2 British Blokes who were not traveling together, but randomly I get stuck with a bunch of Brits.

James has been a dive instructor in Bocas Del Torro and Dominical (get familiar with geography or look at a map) and he is a chillaxed surfer type dude, but British, which was a trip. And Nile (like the river) a prepubescent 19 year old traveling the Americas and trying to grow body hair.

We get to the boat in Carti, San Blas and we are greeted by another mate from the UK, Mat. This dude has been traveling all over the world, starting in Japan, did all of the orient and SE Asia and has now made his way down from the Bay Area.

When we boarded the sail boat, I thought Mat was the first mate, and greeted him with a very casually ¨Yo what up fool¨ as I would any amigo especially in my still inebriated state. He looks at me in shock and says in a funny British accent ¨ is that a term of endearment where your from¨ I told him yea and to stop trippin and help me with the bags and to hit the bottle of rum, he immediately followed my orders.

He also informed us to take of our sandals as the captain is incredibly anal about everything and that he will be back to demonstrate this character trait in a few minutes as he just left on the dingy to go get water and random supplys that are to last us the 5 days at sea.

At this point in time we decided that we need to talk to this guy Henry as we did not really have any clue what the deal was, and only that this guy should be taking us to Cartegena and we should get there in about 4-5 days. We had also said that we wanted to discuss the price and what was expected of us, like were we just chillin on the boat, or are we the crew? Either one would be cool, but we were very uninformed and needed to know como era la vara.

So Henry rolls up with a bunch of bottles of water and some tomatos and yells at us to go to the front and start passing the jugs and filling up the water tank. We follow directions, and it becomes apparent we are the crew.

We had decided as a group in the previous 10 minutes that if we were indeed the crew we could use this as a bargaining chip and try to get the price of the trip down. After filling the tank, bringing the dingy on board, and putting the bags away Henry proceeds to ask for passports and money. We bring up the point that this trip was explained to us as a holiday vacation and that if we were to be working could we get a discount.

Henry freaks out and is astonished at the fact that we would ask such a thing and in his mind we seemed like this group of whinny bitches who couldn't handle manning a ship. Our plan kind of backfired and got us off on a bad foot.

Henry:¨I can not believe I am having this conversation, what is this Kindergarten¨

Us: ¨Tranquilo Guebon, we just want to know whats the deal, as we have know info, so know we know the deal, Chill!¨

A great way to start a long joinery in a small boat about to be away from land for a few days. Thank God he did not know I am a Jew.

Shit cooled off and I took it upon me to make the situation chill and handle it and make it smooth, as I do! I calmed him down to the best of my ability and told the other mates that it would be cool. I mean whats the worst that could happen?

We then pulled up anchor, hoisted the sail, kicked the engine, and took off for our first destination, Porvenir Island in San Blas. This is where we need to get our exit stamps from Panama and some document that allows him to sail into Colombian waters.

Henry is showing us how to do things on the catamaran and he appoints me driver, and then takes the others to the port side of the bow and starts showing them how to work the boom and mast and all that.

Did he not smell the liquor on my breath, or rather see me carrying around the bottle of rum the whole time we were working? Whatever I don't think I'm gonna get a BUI in the Caribbean, well hopefully right.

We start to pull up to the Port after a few hours and Henry takes over driving. We drop anchor and the dingy and Henry takes off to the island with all our passports and to get the document. He comes back about 30 minutes later, and said

¨We have a big problem, the only guy who can stamp the passports left early today and wont be back until Tuesday, but hes going to fax a paper over that gives us permission to leave, but we can not get stamps, you are on the list as crew so you have permission and don't need the passports stamped, we shall still go!¨

¨Wait what?¨

At this point I am a bit wigged out as this guy is making his first journey from these particular ports, is acting like an AWOL U-boat captain, and we are trusting him with our lives, not only on the sea, but to get us into Colombia a country with revolutionary problems with out problems? I need another swig of rum!

The group seems to think it will be fine, Henry as well, so we sail on.

We drop anchor at our first island where we will be staying the night before taking off to the next one in the morning. We will then hit high water and will not see land for a few days.

At this point Henry and James are butting heads as James is down to work but is not having Henry´s attitude.

We could feel the water boiling.

Henry accuse James of being a lazy bitch, and James starts talking shit. Henry comes up chest to chest and then suddenly Henry shoves James off the boat!!!

We all look at each other astonished and at a loss of words. James was literally and physically just thrown off the boat.

James gets up on the boat and surprisingly calmly tells Henry how irresponsible, inexperienced, and unprofessional he is, and that he is staying on the island and wants his money back.

Henry agrees but makes James write and sign a declaration stating he is leaving on his own will.

Swig of rum.

Luckily a little Kuna boat is approaching and James flags them down and get on and takes off!

I take another swig of rum.

This was all within 5 minutes, and thank God that Kuna boat passed or who knows what kind of shit would have hit the fan.

We proceed to discuss these issues we had with Henry with him over a few drinks that night, and try to settle down. I dont know how much registered but Mat was very helpful and calm, great help in the situation.

We get up in the morning to one of the most beautiful island back drops in the world and forget all about the night before and the hangover I should have. Oh wait I'm still buzzin! However the feeling is serene!

That wears off soon, as we proceed to the sea and I start to get woozy. I go pull the trigger, get some toxins out, lay down, drink some water, pull the trigger, eat some fruit, jump in the water, and try to man up and grow some sea legs.

I did it and it was better.

Henry then casually informs us that we will each have to make a 2 hour night shift in the cockpit each night, making sure the boat does not crash. What?

¨Yes¨he said ¨The boat will be driving on auto pilot, but we always need to have someone making sure that we dont hit another boat and watch the depth and currents. You remember I showed you how to work the instruments?¨

¨Uh yea I guess we can do that, did you ever think of providing the hostals with this information to tell the passengers beforehand? So they can mentally prepare right?¨

He looks at me like Im a pussy.

We could not do anything right, weather it be cooking, cleaning, manning the wench, raising the sail, or taking a piss of the back.

He even got upset with me as I was singing,

Yo no soy marinero,

Yo no soy marinero,

Soy Capitan

Soy Capitan

Dude was the Gestapo!

After a few days of this we are approaching the port in Cartegena and Henry then decides he wants to tell me something.

¨Brandon, I know you speak Spanish, but let me speak to port authority, regrading the non stamps and funny faxed document, don´t say anything!¨

Now I had thought about this, if something were to occur I would play dumb to the fact that we did not even get our passports stamped, explain how he demanded them right off the bad and I did not know anything about the situation and trusted him, and if needed, let me pay the fine (bribe) to let me get the entry stamp and leave the boat and be on my way.

To Henrys credit I guess, we enter the port get our stamps after a few hours, and bounce.

What an experience! I learned a lot on this 4 day adventure. How to deal with different people in close quarters, how to be mature enough to deal with an unideal situation out of necessity, gained some sea legs, and last but not least, how to sail a bit.

In the end I must say and recommend to anyone who asks how to get to Colombia from Panama..... is there any question, dont be a pussy and sail!!!!

Yoho Yoho a pirates life for me