Subj: The night before
Date: 10/22/00 9:29:51 PM Pacific Daylight Time
From: ervance@hotmail.com (Eric Vance)
To: nmvance@aol.com, dvanceesq@aol.com
Dear Mom and Dad,
I'm leaving tomorrow morning at 7:25 am for San Ysidro. Then TJ, then I'll get a taxi to the bus station and from there try to get a first class bus to Guadalajara. I figure I'll have plenty of time to learn Spanish on that 2298 km bus ride.
I sent a package home today. When I left Modesto my pack(s) were too heavy, 40 pounds. I didn't get rid of enough, but I have sent my hiking boots back. I bought a pair of Timberland's in Long Beach. They look really nice and seem like I could hike in them, but they aren't so comfortable walking. I thought they were walking shoes when I bought them. I figure they'll be more comfortable broken in.
In Long Beach at David's and here in San Diego I have spent most of my time cleaning out my email account and emailing people. I tried to set up my webpage today, but I failed. Nothing really worked. I am very disappointed and not a little frustrated.
I don't think it was a conscious effort on my part to begin my travels in Latin America so ill-prepared. I haven't studied Spanish since the beginning of August. So what little I knew then has mostly faded. I'll learn, "I would like one ticket to Guadalajara please." tonight. I'll probably sleep better.
I'm still not comfortable with what I have packed. I tried my best to prepare for the rainforests, the high mountains, the beaches, and the cities--in both wet and dry season. Maybe that's where I failed. It's too complicated. No combination of items could possible work as well as I would like. My new shoes would be absolutely perfect (waterproof, good-looking, good tread, easy to maintain [just wipe on some mink oil when I want to clean them]) if they were more like walking shoes.
Anyway, tomorrow morning I will be dropped off at the trolley station and ride it along with all the commuters. Except that I will ride it to the last station, and won't stop until I'm 2300 km south of the border.
Buena suerta para mi,
Eric Vance
Subj: From Guadalaja
Date: 10/25/00 7:06:00 PM Pacific Daylight Time
From: ervance@hotmail.com (Eric Vance)
To: SDeshields@mednet.ucla.edu, lubna.s.chunawala@us.pwcglobal.com, rakelley@hotmail.com, skimberlin@hotjobs.com, aquilini@yahoo.com, jennylux@hotmail.com, bprovenzale@hotmail.com, meggigirl3@hotmail.com, tmcneice@hotmail.com, mairehau@hotmail.com, luvchld732@aol.co, amazonas@barralink.com.br, shiehe01@popmail.med.nyu.edu, anglav@aol.com, bobyri@excite.com, oliver.pearse@uk.bosch.com, Stephan.Rotter@intel.com, nmvance@aol.com, dvanceesq@aol.com, velcichd@kg.com.au, dcreighton@principia.edu, melgephart@hotmail.com, subvertthemasses@yahoo.com
Dear Mom and Dad and my friends,
Hello from Guadalajara! (That means I made it in one piece.)
I'm not sure how much I should write about my bus ride from Tijuana. How about just the facts: 2298 km, 40.5 hours. From 10am Monday to 4:30 am Wednesday.
It wasn't supposed to take that long, but a bridge was out due to the rain (I saw rainbow over saguaro cacti in the Sonoran Desert on the way). At first the driver said maybe an hour delay, then I heard something about three days. Anyway, we were parked along a road with lots of other buses in the middle of the night. I think it was a seven hour delay. And it meant getting into a new city in the middle of the night in a country whose language I still don't speak. And I have no guidebook for Mexico. I don't speak Spanish, I don't have any information, and I don't know anything else either.
But it's okay. I'm probably doing this (not learning Spanish and being too cheap to buy a guidebook) to myself subconsciously because I crave adventure or something.
Well, things tend to work out okay if you have a good attitude. Mexico isn't really what I expected. I expected Tijuana hovels or mud huts. I didn't expect a nice bus. My bus was like a Greyhound but without any freaky passengers. In the US Mexicans ride the bus because they are poor. Here Mexicans ride the bus because they are rich. And I think the health warnings are overhyped. I don't think I'll have any problems with the water or the food.
Fully awarre of the difference between taking it easy and staying in my room all day, I walked around (making sure I knew how to get back to my hotel) after a long morning sleep. I found food and later a tourist map. Things are going okay.
Must learn more spanish,
Eric Vance
Subj: Second day
Date: 10/26/00 2:35:28 PM Pacific Daylight Time
From: ervance@hotmail.com (Eric Vance) To: nmvance@aol.com, dvanceesq@aol.com
Dear Mom and Dad,
1. Internet is plentiful in Mexico
2. Internet is inexpensive in Mexico
3. I know of nothing interesting to do in Guadalajara
4. I am writing another letter
I am not copying anybody else to this email because I doubt it will be interesting. I can forsee emailing several times per week, and who wants to hear so much from me? Do you? Does Angela? Certain friends? I don't know. But probably I'll figure it out sometime. The best thing would be to make the letters as interesting as possible.
Last night after the internet cafe closed I walked around looking for places showing the baseball game. I didn' want to go inside anywhere so I watched through windows of restaurants and bars and just kept walking around. Three days ago I would never have thought about walking around Mexican cities alone at night. But now I have no qualms, at least in Guadalajara. It's a pretty normal city. It seems European, dirty European, like Portugal. Some parts remind me of India--the exhaust fumes and the undefinable smell on the street.
So I walked around and found the city center, the real center of the old town. I thought I had been there already. Anyway, I found the place of the festival. The outdoor performance ended as I got there (the applause attracted my attention), but I'll be back tonight for whatever is on.
Today I studied Spanish in my hotel room, then went out to see Guadalaraja's sights. That lasted an hour. I have a self guided walking tour on my map. And I did the first part, but nothing is very interesting. As soon as I can I will buy a guidebook.
My plan for here was to meet another young international traveler who would give me the heads up about Mexico and Guadalajara. But I haven't met anyone yet. I will stay in a hostel in Mexico City. There must be some there. I don't know where. I don't know anything. But I won't leave the Mexico bus station headed for a hotel. My hotel is adequate, but I'm never going to meet anyone there.
Later,
Eric Vance
Subj: Guadalajara numero tres
Date: 10/27/00 2:43:14 PM Pacific Daylight Time
From: ervance@hotmail.com (Eric Vance)
Dear Mom and Dad,
After the first day in G. I didn't like it. I had walked around everywhere and found nothing interesting. I was really wondering why I wanted to come here in the first place. But then while walking around some more at night I found the real city center with the interesting buildings and such and I found where the Fiestas de Octubre were located. I went to sleep that night feeling good about everything. And I went to sleep with a plan for the morning. That really helps.
But then yesterday I walked around the old city a bit and then skipped the rest of the places on the walking tour. Nothing was interesting. But still, the night would have something for fiesta.
Last night I went to the scheduled event: five schoolboys playing trumpet in front of hundreds of people. they played a couple songs, then the whole band came out--a high school band. It was terrible. The night before I saw costumed folklorico dancers leaving the stage and lots of people. Last night was comically bad.
Then at the other venue everyone crowded onto the bleachers and chairs--only to wait for an hour for whatever to start. The stands were in front of an old, Greek-style theater. During the hour wait a machine put up light designs on the building. It projected different colored light and rotating stars and such. I was watching and laughing because I thought that was the performance, a light show. I would walk around and come back and still the same thing, but maybe rotating balls in green instead of red stars. But then the thing started. It was a fashion show or something. Models walked out to music. Not very interesting.
So last night wasn't any good either, but I went to bed with a plan to go to Tlaquepaque today. It's supposed to be an interesting place.
I found out which bus where to take, and got it, but I missed the Tlaquepaque stop. The buses here have warnings on the bus when it goes over 50 km. The buses aren't supposed to go that fast. But this one sure was. The alarm (a red light above the driver) was on almost all the time as we sped through the small stone streets. I couldn't tell when or where to get off so I rode it all the way to the long distance bus station and checked out prices for mexico city. Buses are truly expensive here. Anyway, I caught another bus back to Tlaquepaque.
The main attraction there is the covered market. It is really hyped up in my tourist map. But I couldn't find it. I looked and looked and discovered that the market has been converted into an empty tourist eating area. It's really nice inside, and about eight restaurants share the space. Across the street is a market place, but it was just a normal, small market.
The highlight of Tlaquepaque was the ceramics museum. The region is well know for ceramics. I went around. Some of the descriptions were in English. The oldest pottery I saw was from maybe the '60s, the 1960s. I would give that museum no stars out of three. But it was the best thing in Tlaqapaque. Maybe the shops would be interesting to the typical tourist (sun hat, tennis shoes, shorts, lots of money) but not to me. I'm not going to buy anything. I don't even care to look.
I'm going to Mexico City tomorrow. I'm going to stay in a hostel. If there are no hostels in mexico city then Iñm going to stay inside the bus station.
The only Spanish I am learning is from my book, but that isn't much. I don't ever really feel like studying, plus I don't know if it helps much. I did learn last night how to say "how much does this cost?" I knew how to say that way before, like when I went to Spain three years ago, but I forgot and then someone in San Diego said it was "Quanto costa?" Anyway, I don't get befuddled looks anymore because I say Quanto cuesta?.
I don't talk to anyone in Spanish. I might say a couple words, but if someone talks back I can only understand if they speak very slowly and use only the words in lessons 1-5 in my book.
Sayanara(I haven't learned how to say goodbye),
Eric Vance
Subj: Announcement
Date: 10/28/00 4:20:08 PM Pacific Standard Time
Dear Mom and Dad and Friends,
Okay, I've decided to send only one general email per week. I'm sure that's plenty. I'm sure people don't want to read everyday what I've been eating or which bus I missed. But this new policy starts next week.
Yesterday, (was it only yesterday?) I forgot how to say Adios. Obviously some things you don't need to learn in a book. Anyway, I was in a bad mood because I couldn't say anything in Spanish, I didn't want to do lesson 6 in my book, and I hadn't spoken with anyone in Spanish. And Guadalajara sucked.
But last night at the fiesta was cool. Instead of a rag-tag concert band I saw three great performances. The first was a group of six guys with guitar, accordian, and violin singing traditional Mexican songs. The second was a group of dancers. They danced about five different folk dances with great costumes. The first was a mock Aztec sacrifice with feathered helmets and everything. The third group was a traditional Mariacchi band. And, even better, I ate four tamales during the performances. I haven't been able to find anything I really want to eat outside of the bakery shops (one day I had some yogurt and then five pastries throughout the day, that's it, just chocolate filled croissants and donuts and cookies for an entire day). Oh yeah, a guy was selling tamales cheap, and I ordered them in Spanish and even answered his questions. And adding to the night was the fact that I knew I was leaving Guadalajara in the morning.
At the bus station this morning (after not knowing when to get off then blah, blah...) I decided to got to Guanajuato instead of Mexico City. It's a small place that was recommended before I left the US. So at the Guanajuato station I talked with the girl at the tourist info office, first in English, then in Spanish! Later, when I was checking into my hotel (a place with other travelers!) the receptionist was asking me questions I could not answer. I don't know what she was saying, there was no context for it. I said I wanted a room and I got all this weird stuff in return. Eventually she called the girl at the tourist office. I didn't think our communciation barrier was so great.
So, the girl at the tourist info, Fernanda, had called before and let the person know I was coming (that much I understood), but what she really wanted was to ask me out for coffee. So I have a date! That never, ever happened during my two years traveling in Europe, Asia, and AustraliaNZ.
Guanajuato is a really cool town. It's built old-style on the slope of a hill. So it has windy streets and cobblestone roads and if you know anything more about it, you know more than I.
In general, I hate asking people for things. I hate asking questions. I'd rather walk around than ask for directions, or get on the wrong bus or miss my stop. But I've got to change that. I suppose asking questions opens the door to further conversation. If I look at it like that, as a conversation starter, I like the concept better. Anyway, I asked the boostore worker if she had any travel books. No. But I asked, and I'm sure I'll find one in Mexico City.
Hasta mis padres y mis amigos,
Eric Vance
Subj: Guanajuato
Date: 10/29/00 4:51:37 PM Pacific Standard Time
Dear Mom and Dad,
Today I walked around Guanajuato, went to one place and visited one museum. I hope tomorrow is better. I'm tired of just walking around. I want to see something of significance. I suspect that I won't see anything of significance until I start visiting the pre-Columbian places. Guanajuato is quaint. Lots of narrow winding streets, colorful old decrepit buildings, plazas, churches. But I've seen it before. I've seen it in Portugal and Italy and India.
Yes, I guarantee tomorrow will be better. I haven't spoken with anybody today. Last night, before I went out with the tourist info girl, I talked with two people at the hotel, a Japon and a Suisse. We conversed in Spanish. I like talking with non-Natives, they are so much easier to understand and they understand what I am saying better.
Last night with Fernanda was kinda boring. My Spanish was better than her English. So we spoke Spanish mostly. That was great. Except I had nothing to say so I didn't talk much. We walked around, got some food, got a drink. I probably would have learned more Spanish hanging out with the foreigners.
I am looking for a guidebook. Actually I want a Lets Go. Lonely Planet sucks, but it would probably be better than nothing. I glanced through its rundown of the sights of Guanajuato and didn't see anything interesting. I was more interested in its hotel listings.
That's all I have to say today,
Eric Vance
Subj: Mexico City
Date: 11/1/00 4:50:46 PM Pacific Standard Time
Dear Mom and Dad,
I arrived in Mexico yesterday. I was so nervous on the bus into town, and then on the Metro. I've heard so many stories of how dangerous the city is and how the Metro is really dangerous, especially the Hidalgo stop where criminals wait for tourists to get off then follow them and pickpocket or mug them. And the book says not to use the metro during rush hour. Anyway, I got on the metro at 5:50 in the evening, and transfered at Hidalgo at 6:20. Then I walked around in the city looking for the hostel which was along a dark street (the lights were out) but right near the central, central place. Of course nothing happened. Nobody is going to mess with me. I am much bigger than most Mexicans and I always walk confidently.
I think my first week frustrations are over. I am so much more prepared for Mexico than many of the people I've met here. My Spanish is getting better every other day. I've got some new travel plans.
Tonight I will probably go out to the dias de los muertes party at the Zocalo (the central, center). I bought a guidebook, a 1999 Lets Go for pretty cheap. In guanajuato I was speaking Spanish with the other travelers I met, but here it's just English.
Internet isn't as cheap or plentiful in this town. But I'll probably write more tomorrow.
Today for one of my exercises I wrote a paragraph about what I did yesterday, all in Spanish. Writing is much easier for me than speaking. I don't even have to think about the endings (I just learned past preterite) when I write.
Later,
Eric Vance
Subj: Los Dias de la Muerte
Date: 11/2/00 3:43:45 PM Pacific Standard Time
Dear Mom and Dad,
I thought I would write a general message today, but I'm not going to. I'm really tired though I feel better since drinking some water. I stopped into this internet cafe to prepare myself for my mission. In San Diego, a housemate Melanie asked me to look up her ex-boyfriend Francesco in Mexico City. She met him while studying here earlier this year. I met him during his visit to San Diego in July. Back then I spoke no Spanish, yet my Spanish was better than his English. I actually talked to him more often in Italian (he is Italian).
Francesco owns a restaurant here in Mexico City, just around the corner. I remember that while in San Diego he couldn't stay long because he had to get back for a meeting with a potential buyer of his restaurant, "Da Ricky". But something happened, like he missed his plane or something and he had lots of trouble leaving and couldn't get more money and other stuff, so Melanie lent him some money.
Melanie tells me that he went back to Mexico and decided not to sell his restaurant and not move back to Italy, and that he might be back into drugs and she doesn't know where he is staying and hasn't been able to contact him. She's tried contacting his friends, but Francesco moves around a lot. She has called his parents in Italy, but they haven't been in contact with him. She is worried about him. She wants to know how he is. She would also like to get her money back. And she thinks maybe he will be able to show me around Mexico City or give me a place to stay.
I think it would be interesting to see him again, but I don't need a tour guide and I am comfortable in my hostel with the other international travelers.
So I came to this part of town in the morning with a French girl Isabel from the hostel. The restaurant was closed, but the shop owner next door said it would open at 3. After the Frida Kahlo museum and the museum of popular culture, we checked back, but still wasn't open. We then went to the University, but it was closed (seriously, gates were locked, I wanted to see the Olympic Stadium). I was really tired and dehydrated and disappointed by the museums.
The Frida Kahlo museum is in her house, the one she lived in with Diego Rivera for many years until her death. But unlike the Diego Rivera museum/birth house which had a chronology of his life (in Spanish) and which was informative (in Spanish), this museum had nothing, nada. Only her kitchen and dining room (I guess) and a bedroom with paintings on the wall, probably her bedroom (or Diego's or the guestroom?), and three other rooms with art in them. There were a few of her paintings, some of Diego's, and her (or Diego's) collection of art. The only interesting thing in the whole museum was the letter displayed that she wrote to Diego. I could mostly understand it. There were a few other letters and writings, but they were too complicated for me. So I went into the Diego Rivera museum not knowing much about him, but learned something. I learned hardly anything from the Kahlo house. It sucked.
The other museum was cool. There was a colorful display on indigenous Mexicans. That museum had lots of stuff written on the walls, but I didn`t read any of it because it was all in Spanish and the place was too crowded. Today is festival day. The museum was free and EVERYBODY was in it. I became fatigued by the crowd.
Oh yeah, the fiesta. Quickly, the day of the dead is like our Halloween. It`s a time of rembrance of dead people. You are supposed to put an altar up for the dead you remember and leave offerings of flowers and food and drink and other things so the dead people will be happy. Children dress up in costumes and ask people for stuff, either candy or money. There are some parades of people dressed like skeletons, and lots of stuff for sale like candied pumpkin and sugar skulls and a special Dead bread. It's colorful, it's festive. But it's not that interesting to me. The only dead person I really know is my grandma. Other grandma too. So I'll remember them.
Tomorrow I hope to see the sunrise at Teotihuacan, Aztec ruins place. And now I'll go see Francesco. I don't know what I'm going to say. Better just to wing it than to worry about preparing something or thinking about it.
Happy day of the dead,
Eric Vance
Subj: Mexico intro
Date: 11/8/00 5:06:33 PM Pacific Standard Time
November 8, 2000
Dear Mom and Dad and everybody around the world,
So what's going on in the US? The rumor here in Mexico is that Nader won the election since the Gore and Bush votes cancelled each other out. I've been trying to get the bars to put on CNN, but there is some amatuer soccer game showing instead.
As many of you know, I am traveling again, this time in Latin America for seven months. I was in the States for a year and wasn't really doing anything so I decided to borrow money to travel.
About two weeks ago I got on the trolley (streetcar) in San Diego early in the morning. The business suits and working dresses got off at the Downtown stops while I stayed on with my backpack all the way to the end of the line, 10 metres from the border.
I walked across into Mexico and within the hour was on a bus to Guadalajara. I used much of those 40 hours to study Spanish. So by the time I arrived at my destination, a city unknown to me at 4:30 in the morning, I knew just enough Spanish for a taxi driver to overcharge for dropping me off at a cheap hotel.
Hardly anyone in Mexico knows English, but that's okay since I plan to learn Spanish. But I don't know it yet so things kinda suck. Nearly all the museums are Spanish only. I could accept that if the museums were cheap, but surprisingly, travel costs in Mexico are similar to those of Australia or NZ.
In Guadalajara I didn't find much to do. I didn't talk to anybody besides people at the tourist info booths, and I didn't have a guidebook and no idea of what the city or region was about.
Things changed a little in Guanajuato. I still didn't have a guidebook, but I met other travelers (and practiced my Spanish) and amused myself by wandering around. Guanajuato is a freak town, unlike any others in Mexico, so tourists flock there. It was built on a hillside with narrow streets and alleys and underground tunnels for cars. So I could follow an alleyway until it ended on somebody's roof, then backtrack and pass other brightly colored crumbling buildings to find a way out of the maze.
Oh yeah, in Guanajuato I had a date with a Mexican woman. She worked at the tourist booth at the bus station and rang the hotel to ask me out. I was really excited for the chance to practice my Spanish with a local and get some inside info, but I hardly talked and learned absolutely nothing about the town. My Spanish was good enough--I just had nothing to say. Fernanda had nothing to say either by the end of the night so repeated, in English, "I like jou face."
Mexico City was my next stop. Saw some sights, met people at the hostel, spoke so much English that my Spanish regressed to sentences composed of only five verbs: estar, ser, poder, querer, and ir. (Be, be, can, want, go.) It's the same thing here in Oaxaca. I speak too much English and I'm not studying my Spanish grammar book I got from the discard pile at a library. I've done only two lessons in the past week. So I'm stuck at number 12 of 20. I figure if I can get to lesson 20 I will be fluent.
The reason I am traveling in Latin America is to see the ruins. The first ones were at Teotihuacan near Mexico City. They did not disappoint.
I woke up at 4:30 in the morning in order to be at the ruins by sunrise. Silje, a Norwegian, also wanted to go early. We did. We saw the sun rise next to the Pyramid of the Sun (third largest in the world), and had the whole site to ourselves for a couple hours. The best part was the tunnel we discovered on the backside of the pyramid. It was an archeologists tunnel, access forbidden, but the door was slightly ajar, and there was no one else around. The dirt tunnel was littered with candy wrappers so I doubted we would be disturbing anything. So with flashlights out we entered and went all the way into the center of the pyramid and found...absolutely nothing. The pyramid was made out of dirt with a layer of rocks and cement, a layer of stucco, some polish, and some paint and that is it. It was my first discovery as an archeologist and it was a little disappointing. How could the whole, gigantic pyramid be just dirt?
We spent almost eight hours at the ruins doing our own investigations and drawing our own conclusions (many of them agreed with what we would read later on). That day could possibly be the highlight of my trip.
Tonight I am taking a night bus to San Cristobal in Chiapas. In a week I will be in Guatamala where I will study Spanish for two weeks. The deals they have are incredible--live with a family, three meals a day, four hours of one-on-one Spanish instruction--for $125-$150 a week.
After that I will go into northern Guatamala and Belize and back into Mexico (the Yucatan) and then maybe to Cuba. I want to go to Cuba and I figure Fidel Castro could die at any time, and once he is gone Cuba changes. So I'm really thinking of going to Cuba, but don't tell any American officials since US citizens are officially prohibited (I think) from traveling there. Cuba doesn't care, so I'm going.
Hasta luego,
Eric Vance
PS My next emails will not be as long. Some of you have already indicated that you would like to receive some that I write. Others, let me know if you would like to be "on my list", either "weekly" or "monthly". I think that's the system I will use. If you want to be on the "daily" list, I can do that too
Subj: San Cristobal de las Casas
Date: 11/9/00 11:23:12 AM Pacific Standard Time
Dear Mom and Dad,
So what's up with the election? Now the rumor in Mexico is that Pat Buchanan actually won because everybody who thought they voted for Gore actually voted for Buchanan.
In Oaxaca I really wanted to try a chapuline taco. Chapulines are cooked grasshoppers. But I couldn't find a place that served them, so I decided to make my own. In the market I bought a bag of the grasshoppers. I think they are cooked with lots of salt and lime juice. They're not particularly spicy, but they are really juicy. I bought some cheese and a kilo of tortillas and took everything back to the hostel to make warm grasshopper tacos. Only one other person in the hostel was willing to try one of my grasshoppers. She didn't think it was so bad. If you can get over the looks of them (an optical illusion makes the bugs look as if they are still alive) and aren't bothered too much by the crunch and juiciness, they taste okay. I had four tacos and several chapulines on their own. I did have to be careful before going out again because I had some legs stuck in my teeth.
When I returned to the hostel to get my backpack for the bus station, I showed some other people my bag of grasshoppers. They didn't want to try them either. Maybe I was showing off a little by tossing them into the air and catching them in my mouth. And maybe I ate too many of them, because on the bus ride I did not feel well. Eating grasshopper tacos was a good traveling moment. Feeling nauseous and feverish on the night bus winding through the mountains was a bad traveling moment. I never get carsick, expect sometimes on boats, but the road was really winding. No, I don't know the reason, but I felt like throwing up.
I went into the toilet in the back of the bus and was thrown around on every curve. I think that helped. Preparing to be sick is the best way not to be sick. I went back to my seat and felt much better sometime later after waking up.
San Cristobal is another "freak" town. I mean that it has a gimmick. Guanajuato had the winding streets and narrow alleys. San Cristobal has the local indigenous population and the fact that it is surrounded by cloud forest mountains. So walking around I can see green mountains on all sides and also Indians wearing multi-colored shawls and other traditional garments (though often they're selling the same stuff on the streets as anywhere else: sliced fruit, woven bracelets, and roasted nuts).
Near Oaxaca is the Tale tree, reputed to be the tree with the largest girth in the world. I met some guys at the hostel who said it was a tourist trap and not worth seeing. I was still considering the half hour bus ride when I saw a postcard of the tree. It really is a thick tree, but like all other trees in Mexico, the lower four feet of the trunk is painted white. I think it must be an Aztec tradition to paint every tree white, but Nada, the Belgian archeologist who wrote her thesis on the symbolizm of the tree in Aztec culture, disagrees. I told her to read her codices more carefully; she's bound to find a picture of a tree painted white. It is such a part of the Mexican culture that it must have its roots in pre-Columbian culture. They don't paint their trees in Spain.
Time for my siesta,
Eric Vance
PS From now on I will place most of the addresses in the BCC field. That means that is you have hotmail, my messages might be delivered to you Bulk Mail. If you don't want to read these, just leave them there and they get automatically deleted.
From: Ervance@hotmail.com
Pieter,
Have you ever read, "The Snow Leopard" by Peter Matthiassen. It is about the author's two month Himalayan trek in Nepal 25 years ago. It is the latest book I have read that has influenced me. After reading the book I started "Living in the moment". You hear that all the time, to be mindful of the present, but when I started trying it, it was a true revelation. Anyway, I have strayed from that level of mindfulness the past several months, but I did come up with a new theory two days ago.
It started with all the election uncertainty in the USA. I really want Al Gore to be president, and I think that I have the power to make him become president by choosing the universe in which he has been elected. I wrote this for my 15 year-old cousin, but I'm not going to change it for you, a mathematician.
"My Al Gore Universe Theory"
The MWH says that the split worlds are nearly identical and all exist at the same time. So I would be me in the heads world and I would also be me in the tails world, and of course those worlds would be splitting constantly each time another random event came up.
Maybe my theory is that we exist in all the different worlds, but we only have memory of one. So I want to remember the one that is the best, and that one has Al Gore as president. I am choosing to be in that universe.
So my theory is that before every random event (like where an electron is at any given time, or the outcome of a coin toss) the universe splits. But that we, conscious human beings, can choose which universe we want to pass into and remember. We can influence our realities. Praying is just guiding ourselves into the universe that has the outcome we want. Also remember that according to quantum physics, almost anything is possible. Really. According to quantum physics, there is a small chance that your computer will jump to the next table. And so there is a universe where your computer has just jumped tables and you are really confused. But most of the universes have your computer just staying where it is. However, we can choose to go into the weird universes if we want.
There are no miracles, only unlikely events that happen to occur in a particular universe.
Hasta,
From: Ervance@hotmail.com
Gene,
I just met two really cool chicas here in Palenque the town. But I didn't do anything with them besides talking so they get a number in front of them, but it was a cool day so I'll write a few words.
Irene, Germany
I was sitting in the central park (very small in this very small town in the jungle/forest/cleared agricultural plots) when I saw a cute chica in a sexy dress come walking into the square, right towards me. She kept walking straight for me and asked, "Is this the zocalo?" I smiled and said Yes. It really is a small town. She sat next to me and we talked for an hour. She was cute, but she also smoked and well, armpits unshaven.
I am looking for a chica to travel with. Sort of. I am keeping my eye out for a cute girl to travel with. Maybe after I take my Spanish lessons in Guatamala I will meet someone. Anyway, Irene was cool but only in Mexico for three weeks vacation.
We were talking when I saw the beautiful blue eyed blonde beauty who was on my bus from San Cristobal, when I saw her walk by. I said Hola. She stopped, smiled and sat down with the two of us.
A couple minutes of three-way chat, then Irene left. Oh yeah, Irene had earlier been asking if I knew any good restaurants. No, but anyway I was meeting the two Belgian archeologists I met in Oaxaca. She was like asking me to accompany her for dinner, but I had other plans.
So Irene left.
Mazza (Martza, Mahtsa) Italy.
She really is so, so beautiful. No make-up, normal clothes, but saffire eyes and just beautiful. I should have talked with her at the twenty minute break on the busride, but I didn't. But I did talk with her at the bus station. She was trying to get to a certain place, but the times weren't working out. Anyway, I just talked with her, then asked to borrow her Lonely Planet guidebook to check some things. I really didn't need any information, I just wanted an excuse to talk about hostels and "Where are you staying" and 'Just stay with me, we'll travel around Latin America together.'
So at the zocalo we talked for an hour and a half. She already bought her bus ticket for a place on the coast. She's going to Argentina really soon, and is coming back to Mexico, so will see the ruins of Palenque later.
But not only is Mazza beautiful, we talked about some of my favorite topics. One question to which I have not gotten a good answer is: are the days and nights exactly 12 hours exactly on the equator all the days of the year? I think it must be. Anyway, she brought up the topic and said my best argument before I did. Then later we talked about what we want to do if we could do anything (job). I like talking about that stuff, but it doesn't happen with very many people, hardly ever with beautiful women.
In the bus station Mazza was talking about the lagoon she wanted to go, seven different shades of blue. Then at the zocalo she said she was going somewhere else because the lagoon is really a romantic spot and she is alone and well, she doesn't really feel like going to such a beautful romantic spot alone.
Then she asked if I knew any good place for dinner. Damn it! No, sorry. I'm meeting the Belgian archeologists in fifteen minutes for dinner. Maybe I should write about them since they are both cute and I did stuff with them. Actually Nada is already on the list of chicas I need to write about. It seems like I keep meeting the girls I have already met.
Maybe I will meet Mazza again,
From: Ervance@hotmail.com
Dear Mom and Dad,
I am in Palenque the town, tomorrow I will go to Palenque the ruins. One is much better than the other.
The bus ride from San Cristobal here was beautiful. The highway wound through the mountains, from pine jungle to normal bananna tree, sugar cane, coconut jungle. Palenque isn't very far from San Cristobal, only 190 kms, but it took six hours. The highway had speed bumps, sometimes every 100 metres. But I was able to do most of Spanish lesson 13. I haven't been doing my lessons recently, but I want to finish the book before I study in Guatamala, so I'm doing the lessons more quickly, not doing all the exercises and not caring if I do everything absolutely correct.
San Cristobal didn't live up to my expectations. It was a nice place, but I'm only going to be going to nice places in Mexico. The main attraction, besides the surrounding villages, is seeing Indians walk around with their clothes. It's almost embarassing to go to a town in order to see women carrying babies and wearing blue shawls while selling roasted corn.
I met Nada and Isabel, the two Belgian archeologists, yesterday. So I postponed my bus to Palenque for a day so I could see the ruins with them.
The most striking thing about this town is the heat. I was unprepared for it coming off the air-conditioned bus. After I found my hostel I had to take a shower. So far that is what everybody I have met has done--bus, hotel, shower.
This place seems big on the map, but it is really tiny. When I found the zocalo I was shocked by how small it was. I just wanted a place to sit and eat my garlic and banannas and study some more Spanish. But before I got to my book someone came up to me to ask if this was the center of town. She was from Germany. We chatted for an hour.
Then another girl came by, one I had talked with at the bus station. I said Hola to her and she sat down. After a short three-way chat, Irene the German left to go to an internet cafe. So I talked with Martza from Italy for an hour and a half. She was beautiful. Her eyes...well, anyway, she's going straight to a beach and will come back to Palenque later.
I still think Gore will win,
From: Ervance@hotmail.com
Dear Mom and Dad and friends,
Yesterday I visited the ruins of Palenque, one of the most important Mayan cities. I had delayed my visit for one day so I could go with Nada and Isabel, the two Belgian archeologists.
Ever since Teotihuacan I really like getting to the ruins early. Palenque didn't open until eight, but I still wanted to be there as early as possible. The Belgians agreed, so we met early and got a van/taxi/bus and were there at 7:15. I was up early enough to have a walk around Palenque, the town before sunrise, and saw the sun rise over the jungle and the concrete city.
At the ruins we waited, just sitting by the ticket office with a few other early arrivers, for 45 minutes. Actually the girls didn't wait that long. Nada didn't felt sick and went back to her hotel. Isabel went too. I don't know what I was thinking in trying to get to the closed site early. The girls left and I still waited, doing nothing, watching more and more tourists arrive.
Finally it opened. The workers were still mowing the lawns when the tourists entered. Even without a guide or the experience of two archeologists I still enjoyed the ruins. Only about 30 of the estimated 500 buildings are excavated/restored. The rest are still covered by the jungle.
Anyway, I climbed up some pyramids/tombs/temples. Walked through the jungle over rubble from unexcavated structures. Looked at some really cool reliefs/carvings in the walls. By 9:00 the place was quite crowded. By 9:30 it was too hot to really see much with any enthusiasm. By 11 or 12, almost everyone had left and the workers went back to mowing the lawns. And by then it wasn't so hot since the sun was behind clouds. From 12 to 2 the place was empty and I walked around and stuff.
Well, that was Palenque the ruins,
December 3, 2000 [A "Girls list" email]
Yesterday I met Nadia. No, I guess I met her last week, or a week and a half ago. She is studying at my Spanish school. Last week I studied in the afternoon, so I didn't meet many of the morning students. But I was around the school sometimes in the morning, and I made an effort to talk with and meet some new people. I have learned not just to wait for when it is convenient to meet someone new. I think I learned it in East Coast Australia 1998, but it has really hit home with me on this trip.
I am starting my third week of Spanish school tomorrow. During my first week I studied in the afternoon and made quick friends with three Danes (Victor, Merit, and Julia) also starting new with me. It is easy to make friends with people who are in the same boat as you. It is easy because it is expected. You're new, they're new. You meet, you talk.
I noticed Nadia around that first week. She was studying in the morning and had been there for at least a week already. She sort of already had her friends. I think I talked to her a little bit, but we never exchanged names. I was just a new student, one of them in the afternoon. Who knew how long I'd stick around?
But this past week I studied in the morning with the majority of the students. I still mostly talked with my old friends Victor, Merit, and Julia, but I also made an effort to meet the new students. I talked occasionally to Nadia, but not much until the Friday night graduation dinner. At one point she was sitting next to me. Anyway, lots of talking.
13. Nadia
Yesterday she was one of the people to go up the volcano with the group of six from our school. A group is only as fast as its slowest memeber, and Nadia was the slowest. But she wasn't that slow. I stayed behind to walk up with her, giving her a hand now and then, but mostly just talking with her. It's important not to let anybody get too far behind because they just become discouraged and lag even more.
Shortened:
After our hike we went to the school to see if we could watch a movie. No go, they were closing shortly. But we saw an ad for a coffeeshop/movie house (room with a TV and a video library). A Cuban film, "Guantanamera" was playing. I am interested in anything Cuban these days (since I'll be there in about two weeks), but Nadia and Paty were interested too. It was a date.
We watched the movie, cool. Nadia and I sat next to each other. After the movie we saw some more friends from the school and went to a bar for a beer. Paty was tired and went home. Nadia didn't drink anything. I think she just wanted to be with me.
Then it was just Nadia, me, and Kevin. I hate wasting Saturday nights without going out, so I got them to go to another bar with me. I think Nadia was tired and wanted to sleep, but she aslo wanted to be with me so we had another beer at another place. Sitting around drinking beer sucks. I like dancing, or having the opportunity to dance (and check people out), but I haven't found a good place here in Xela. Anyway, quiet evening. Kevin went back to his hotel. I walked Nadia home.
At our split (she goes left, I go right) I lingered. I don't know why I am so stupid. She only lived a half block away from the split (I lived two half blocks away), so she had to like remind me, "Do you want to walk me home?" Like, dude, it's only half a block!
So at her door she asked when I was going to be back in Guatemala (after Cuba). She was going to the Mountain school for this coming week, so it was goodbye. But she wanted to travel in late Jan, Feb (when I'll be back in the area) so she gave me her email address. Bye, Good night. Buenas noches. Good luck. I went back to my house.
Conclusions:
So Nadia probably regrets not making an effort to meet me when I was new. She already had her morning school friends, but they left and I stayed, and whatever.
Also, Nadia is cool, but not all that. I bet she was in a sorority. Not the get-drunk/fuck-me type, but the rich-Jewish-humanities major sorority sister. I wouldn't mind meeting her again to travel in a month or so.
Eric Vance
Querida Rebecca,
My hotmail account isn't working. It wasn't working last night, so I went to a different place where it worked. Back at the old place (above the gringo bar) it still isn't working, but this account is. I don't know what's up.
This morning the mother of my family, Dona Araceli, pushed me out the door to go somewhere. She suggested Momostenango. I wanted to go to one of the Sunday markets in the surrounding villages, but they seemed far away and just reading and doing email sounded better. But since I was pushed I went.
The bus ride mostly sucked since I got on the really slow ones. Some buses are express, some stop everywhere. The first one I was on was so slow so I switched. But the second one was worse since it went to Momos via a village in the middle of nowhere. We took a dirt road over the mountain and it took twice as long.
In Momostenango I walked around the market. It was really big. But big doesn't mean good. It just means more indigenous women selling fruits and vegetables. It's just not interesting. I was looking at first for Patricia, the girl also living in my house. She left for Momos just before I got up (8:30), at least I could walk around with her. But I didn't see her, and I didn't see any other tourists. When I finally did (after ten minutes) I followed them up the road to the bus stop. Lots of tourists, some I knew, were waiting for the express bus (the one using the highway over the mountain). I went back to the market to buy a piece of bread and when I returned the bus was loading, so I got on. I spent 15 minutes in Momos and 3 hours on the bus to and from. Still, it wasn't a bad day.
Back in Xela I walked around the Sunday market here. It was much better since only artisans were selling, no vegetable sellers. There are several everyday regular markets. This one was special.
Hasta,
Gene,
Okay, I guess I ought to write about the latest and freshest.
14. Gina
First impressions: I saw her around Xela, probably at the internet cafes or a bar. I thought she was really good looking. She has rown eyes, brown hair with some lightened by the sun. She's hard to describe. Maybe it's an unusual face or high cheekbones or something.
Second impressions: Then I saw her again very early yesterday morning. I was on the volcano climbing trip with my school. We had six students plus our guide (former guerrila fighter [the guerrila war only ended in 1996 in Guatemala]). Another group was going up at the same time. The chica I had seen around town was on it. She's really cute.
On the top of the volcano maybe I talked with her or made a few jokes about the clouds or something. We hiked for 3.5 hours straight up the 12,000 ft. volcano, but couldn't see anything since it was in the middle of clouds. A couple times it cleared and we could see the active volcano below us (steam only, no lava) and the surrounding mountains and volcanos and some of the nearby villages. She took my photo, I took hers. Then my group went back down the volcano (I walked a lot with Nadia).
Third Impression:
I was looking for Patricia. She is staying at my house too and left before I got up. But I didn't see her. I didn't see any tourists at all. I certainly don't do to markets to see tourists, but I didn't want to just walk around alone. I had been there ten minutes and was already tired of it.
Then I saw two foreign girls. I followed them. I guess I stalked them at a safe 15 metre distance. They stopped where some other tourists were stopped, a bus stop. And there was the pretty chic again.
"Hola, como estas?" She said fine, but she didn't recognize me. I said something else, but still no.
The bus was crowded of course, so I sat half on a seat with two old Guatemaltecos. But forty minutes into the ride lots of people got off, and I switched to sit next to Gina.
I have a theory, that the girls I am attracted to are also attracted to me. I swear it is true. When we got off at Xela things happened such that Gina's two friends went somewhere else and Gina and I walked around the Xela market together. She had to buy gifts for people (she is returning to the states soon). I didn't have to do anything. We just walked around together.
I think Gina is quite young. She hasn't been to college yet. She was enrolled in a worldwide college (7 campuses around the world, spend most of the time abroad), but she visited one of the campuses in Costa Rica and it really, really sucked so she went back to the US to apply to real schools. So I guess she's nineteen.
She's really pretty. I had fun shopping with her, but nothing further. Some girls are cool. Some are not. Gina's in the middle. Damn, I should have got a photo. Maybe I'll see her again. After all our shopping (she helped me pick out a hat) I left to do email. I think she went home. I guess I didn't feel like trying to prolong the day, like going for coffee or anything. I don't drink coffee. It was too early for a beer. And besides, there was no reason to do anything else. Gina is pretty and cool but we don't so much click so what's the point?
Eric Vance
Dear Mom and Dad,
Yesterday I climbed the volcano. We left really early in the morning and got to the top at nine, a good time, but the top was in a cloud the whole day so we couldn't see anything. A couple times the clouds thinned and I saw the active volcano below (no lava, just steam) and the volcanos towards Lake Atitlan, but mostly it was just cloudy.
I wanted to go somewhere today, but I wasn't sure where. The first Sunday in the month is a big market day in Xela, but Sundays are also good in other towns. Dona Araceli really pushed me to go somewhere this morning. So I went to Momostenango. It sucked. It's just a market. I hate markets now. So I see Indigenas selling vegetables. Big deal.
Momostenango is a wool-producing town, but I didn't see much wollen products. I think they ship them off to other markets, like the one in Xela.
I walked around the market and realized how little it interested me. When I saw two other tourists I followed them. They stopped where other tourists were waiting for the bus. I knew two of them from the volcano yesterday, so I chatted. The bus they were waiting for was a direct one, taking only one hour. The bus I came on was super slow and took the dirt road over the mountain. It took two hours. So I walked around for five more minutes, bought a piece of bread, and got on the bus back to Xela.
In Xela I walked around with one of the girls, Gina, I had met on the volcano and in Momostenango. She bought gifts for her people, I bought a hat for myself.
Yesterday Dona Araceli was really surprised when Patricia and I came back at 1pm. They hadn't expected us until 3 or so. But our group was pretty quick up and down the mountain. A group is only as fast as its slowest member, and our slowest wasn't so bad. The family was having a barbeque and seemed reluctant to give me lunch. I think they just really enjoy the weekends when the foreign students leave.
Climbing down the volcano in the clouds, we decided it was a movie day. But our school was closed (they do have movies to watch). Most foreigners in Xela live and eat with a family. But if that weren't the case--if the students ate at restaurants--Xela would be like Bali or Kathmandu or Thailand where every restaurant shows a movie during dinner because there are so many tourists here. As it is, only two places show movies (videos on a TV in a room with chairs and couches). In the evening we (I, Paty, and Nadia) went to see a Cuban film, Guantanamera, at one of the cafe/movie houses.
I am planning to fly to Cuba from Guatemala City in two weeks. I heard that there were cheap flights from there.
Later,
Subj: The Yucatan
Dear Mom and Dad and friends,
I got back from Cuba three days ago. Since then I have been traveling fast and efficiently, until today, in order to get to Costa Rica quickly.
First, the Cuban story, postcard version: Cuba is a really
interesting country. There's not all that much to see or do. The main
attraction is just being in Cuba and being a part of the
System. 42 years ago Fidel Castro's Revolution to give Cuba back to
the Cuban people (as opposed to the Americans and the rich Cubans) was
successful. Today, the ordinary Cubans work for $10 a month; but they
get really cheap food (enough to survive on) and they all go to
school. Their food is mostly rice and beans and bread rolls, and their
schoolrooms are tiny, with few materials and outdated books (like the
US?).
In a nutshell: I'm glad I went. I'm glad I'm back in Mexico (to
Belize tomorrow). I won't go back until Fidel is dead and Cuba has
changed. I didn't like being forced to be a high-paying package
tourist in order to fill the government coffers.
I will write some stories later. Which ones do you want to read?
Hitchhinking Cuban style
Christmas in Cuba with Havana hustler Juan Carlos
A baseball game
Encountering a finca worker in the middle of nowhere
Favorite Cuban pasttime of the peso food safari
In Santiago partying in the New Year
I got back to Cancun, Mexico on Friday. I took care of a little business, then got the slow bus to the ruins of Chichen Itza. Fortunately I made it to the town in time to go to the ruins for the Sound and Light Show Spectacular. I was just starting to walk the 2.5 km when a bus pulled up. So I jumped on the bus. But I was prevented from moving to a seat by a Canadian backpacker who kept asking the driver questions he couldn't answer. I could answer them, and did, and had to get off the bus to let her off. I was still talking to her, Angelina from Alberta, when the bus pulled away.
I offered to share my room, she accepted, pack down, a few pesos extra for the hotel owner, and we were walking to the ruins, three minutes after the bus left. The show wasn't spectacular, but the ruins (especially the big pyramid) under the stars were. And we had an idea of the layout of the site and possible entry places for the morning.
If possible, I try to see the ruins at sunrise. Chichen Itza was no exception. I woke Angelina up and we set off with a plan. Just before the guard booth to the entrance of the parking lot we took a trail into the jungle in order to skirt the guards and workers. Ten minutes later we had gone in a small semi-circle to reappear on the road, 20m closer to the guard booth. The jungle route wasn't an option: it was too overgrown. So we took our chances and just walked into the parking lot.
Nobody was around. We were still quiet, just in case. Spotted by a worker, we pretending to take photos of the birds, and he went back to his sweeping. We tried another way, jumping over a wall and walking through a wide-open gate, to get into the grounds. Quietly avoiding two more workers and going through another barrier we entered the complex of the ball field just in time to see the sun coming up, right next to the pyramid (the one you think of when you think Mexican Mayan Pyramid). It was beautiful, but it only lasted ten minutes. Then the sun went up into the layer of clouds.
Angelina and I wanted to find a spot to sit quietly for an hour until the legal opening and watch the pyramid and eat breakfast. But as soon as we turned the corner we ran into a guard who escorted us out of the park. An hour later we were the first ones on the top of the pyramid. Five hours later I was on a bus to Merida.
This time I met my roommate trying to get off the bus. The bus pulled into a station and almost everybody got off. I was the last one off, except that I didn't get off because I was blocked by Swiss backpacker, Manuela, who was getting back on. She said that that station wasn't the main one. So I stayed on too.
After checking the bus schedules I saw Manuela on the street. She was upset at the prices of hotel rooms. I suggest we share. She agreed. (My last night in Cuba I shared a room in Havana with Jackie, an English backpacker I met the day before in Santa Clara.) For a few hours in the afternoon I walked around the city and saw some old colonial buildings and some recent murals and the oldest cathedral in North America with the second largest wooden crucifix (20m tall). And I bought churros and typical Yucatanean sweets and other food and went shopping for hammocks but didn't buy any.
The next day (yesterday) I went on the Ruta Puuc bus, a bus that takes tourists to five Mayan ruins in one day. We had 30 minutes at each site, then 1.5 hours at the last one, Uxmal. The best pyramid there looks like something out of a fairy tale. It's really tall, but it has an elliptical base and some small staircases and Mayan statues and masks. It seems as if it should be on the top of a mountain, in the dark, with lightnight and bats flying around. Or maybe it ought to be perched at the edge of a cliff over the sea, definitely with a princess at the top, probably in distress, maybe lightning there too.
Then a bus to Campeche. The guidebook says that Campeche's sights are best seen at night, on the tourist trolley. So I did it. I walked around a little more this morning before the bus here to Chetumal. Campeche is another old colonial town, except that the buildings are not crumbling noticeably. They all have a fresh coat of paint. It's pretty. Reminded me of Santa Fe in the US. I would have stayed longer, but the museums are closed on Mondays (today). So I'm at the Belize border. If the bus schedules were like those in the guidebook I would be in Belize City walking through littered streets and canals with criminals on all sides.
Tomorrow I will set up on a beach somewhere in Southern Belize. Then I'll take a ferry to Guatemala. Then the jungle route series of buses into Honduras. Then I will scuba dive on the world's second largest barrier reef in Utila in the Caribbean.
And maybe I will find an internet cafe and tell you about Cuba,
From: "Eric Vance" Dear Mom and Dad and friends,
First question: Mom, what is an usher?
I am in Leon, Nicaragua. It's another colonial town, but fortunately it is a regular city too. I am tired of guidebooks raving about a city just because the buildings are old. Here, the buildings (those made of dirt with plaster and paint) are crumbling, and there's not much to see besides some pretty churches, but the food is good and cheap and my cheap hotel has cable TV. I think this is a perfect spot to watch the Super Bowl.
After my whirlwind travel to get to Utila for scuba diving, I had to wait in La Ceiba for two days on account of bad weather. But once on the island I dived. And I slept. And I ate. Each activity I repeated two or three times a day. The diving was the best part. I went on eight dives, including two night dives. On the third day, everything was clicking and for the first time I felt as if I were flying. Being weightless was cool before, but in a slight current and with excellent buoyancy control (that's why it took until the third day), I could just go wherever I wanted by wishing myself there. I could swoop down to follow a lobster across the sand, or rise above the wall of coral, or stop all motion and just check out a six-foot long green Moral eel (with a head the size and shape of the top half of a football).
The night dives were the best. More animal life comes out then, or at least I saw more, maybe because I was focused just on where my flashlight was instead of seeing a little of everything as happened during the day. Shrimps have glowing red eyes at night. Fish tend to sleep in between rocks where they are more protected. Sitting on the bottom of the sea, in complete darkness, looking up at the bio-luminescent green specks agitated by my exhaled bubbles, is really cool and not a little scary. I was diving with some snot in my system and when I leaned back, it ran to the back of my throat making it difficult to breathe. Also, at certain angles, my regulator (what I breathed through) didn't work well. So, barely resting on the bottom of the ocean, still weightless, in utter blackness, seeing nothing, feeling nothing, hearing nothing, tasting nothing, smelling nothing--I discovered that we do have a sixth sense. Thought is a sense. My thought was: Don't panic. Exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale.
When I discovered that I had trouble breathing with my head tilted back, I didn't tilt it forward. I just inhaled a little harder and ignored the gag reflex. It was cool. I could breathe and watch glow-in-the-dark specks float up within my bubbles toward the surface.
Later, when I surfaced, I saw stars for the first time on Utila (Honduras). The clouds had parted breifly. On the boat ride back, shivering next to Leah from Tennessee, I thought that maybe diving at night was the closest thing to exploring the stars.
Now to explore Nicaragua and Costa Rica,
From: DLV Dear Mom and Dad,
I'm in the Monteverde Cloud Forest in Costa Rica. I spent the last week in Playa Grande with Jenny and the leatherback turtles. I was really nice to get back in touch with her. So what part of Grandpa's wedding would I be in? I still haven't decided to come back for it. If I did that might mean skipping Peru and Bolivia, the biggest reason I went traveling.
After diving in Utila I spent a week in Nicaragua. The Isla de Ometepe on Lake Nicaragua was good. The island was formed by two volcanoes joined in the middle.
In Playa Grande I didn't do much. One night I went out with Jenny to assist with her turtle work. Her main job is to count and identify the leatherbacks that come ashore to nest. Each turtle has a microchip or something in each flipper, which the biologist scans. If it isn't there, it means the turtle is new and the biologist injects a microchip into her.
So we were out on the beach walking until we saw turtles emerging or found out about them from the park guides or the turtle tourist guides. We would just watch the turtle dig her body pit in the sand, then she would start digging the egg chamber. Once she started laying Jenny scanned, then we both measured it's carapace (shell) and counted the number of tourists and guides and moved on to the next turtle. We had four turtles in our section of the beach over six hours.
The leatherback is the largest reptile. The ones I saw had shells 1.4m long, and 1 meter wide. They weigh about 320 kg, 700 lbs. And lay about 100 eggs every nine days about seven times each season (every fourth year or so). They are critically endangered due to severe egg poaching in the past and deaths due to fishing. Not much egg poaching occurs anymore because the egg poachers now show the turtles to tourists. But fishermen could make the turtle extinct in 10-15 years.
I spent a lot of time in the turtle hatchery helping with nest excavations. If a turtle laid her eggs below the high tide line, the biologists and Earthwatch volunteers would move them higher up on the beach or to the hatchery. After 60 days the hatchlings emerge. Two days after they emerge, the nest are dug up to record the number of unhatched eggs and stuff and sometimes to rescue live hatchlings. The first nest I dug up had seven live hatchlings stuck under the hard packed sand. Before filling the nest that Hannah (from Falcon house in San Diego, on vacation in Costa Rica same time as me) had excavated, I reached in and dug out a side tunnel and found a live hatchling. I really did save it's life. The others would have been saved by someone doing the excavations if I hadn't. But the other one I saved just due to a hunch. Unfortunately, only one of 300-1500 hatchlings survive to adulthood. Most are eaten right away by fish and birds.
This morning I went on a zip-line adventure in the tops of the cloud forest. 10 zip lines were built for young adventure seekers like me. One was over 400m long and 100m above the ground. I did it in a howling wind (the Atlantic trade winds come over the continental divide bringing lots of moisture to the forest). Then afterwards I went to the butterfly garden. It was much more tranquilo and informative and probably just as enjoyable.
I'm thinking of going to Ecuador in ten days. I am meeting Rebecca in northern Brazil in March 18. I'll be in Rio around March 30. I don't know how I will get to Brazil from here. I'm trying to figure it out.
Tomorrow I'll see birds and animals in the forest,
Dear Mom and Dad,
I got up early to hike in the Santa Elena Cloud Forest Reserve. Supposedly you should go early to see more wildlife. So for three and a half hours I hiked around muddy trails in the rain in the forest. I think the forest is on the other side of the continental divide because it was cloudy and rainy the whole time. Here in town the sun is out, but in the forest I couldn't see anything. I saw a few small birds that were slightly more colorful sparrows, but that was it. The walk wasn't bad, but it was one of those in which the best part is getting warm and dry back home.
Thanks for selling the Volvo. I would have liked to have been able to keep it--that's probably why I didn't put any effort into selling it. But there was no way I could have fixed it up, so I'm glad you got rid of it. Was it difficult to part with? I liked the car but didn't have any special attachments to it.
I am going to San Jose in an hour. I'll stay around there a couple days, then go to Panama. I think I am done with C. America. Time to move on to S. America, the real reason I came traveling. I'm not sure how I will get from Panama to S. America, and to Brazil. I'm thinking about getting a boat to Ecuador, then go to Peru to the Amazon and take a boat into Brazil. Or maybe I will get a boat to Cartagena or Venezuela then take buses. I think I will decide once I find out what is possible when I finally get there.
Later,
From: DLV Dear Mom and Dad,
I'm taking a bus straight to Panama City tonight. Usually I take local buses since they are cheaper and I don't usually want to go from capital to capital, but now I do. I'm sure the south of Costa Rica is very interesting and beautiful, and the north of Panama as well; but I am mostly finished with C. America. I have heard that carnaval in Panama city is great, and I want to check out the canal; but really where I want to be is S. America.
I sent a package home today. What is the office's address? I sent the package to the home address, but put 821 13th suite G, 95353 as the return address. Is that correct? My pack is now 8 pounds lighter. I shipped books and film and some woven placemats from Mexico and Guatemala. The only thing I really care about is the film. I debated whether or not to keep them with me, but decided to risk it because I have sometimes had thoughts about losing my entire backpack. I have wondered what would happen if my backpack was stolen or fell off a bus. Only the films would matter. Everything else is easily replaceable.
I've also thought about trying to travel super-light, with just a daypack. It would make things much simpler. In Playa Grande Jenny gave me the other half of the waistbelt buckle I need. Mine broke when my bag fell off a taxi from Tikal to Belize. So now I can carry my pack with weight on my waist and I don't have as many thoughts of letting the whole thing get stolen and starting over.
San Jose is a nice city because it has cheap internet and bakeries and even a used book store. I might go to a museum later today, but mostly I plan on using the internet.
Here's my plan:
Feb 16 Panama City, get a boat to S. America
Love,
From: DLV Dear Mom and Dad and Angela,
So what part will I play in Grandpa's wedding and should I come back for it and why? Will it be better to be at the wedding or explore Bolivia (rainforests, Andes, indigenous culture, and ancient ruins)?
I went to a ecological reserve this morning with Hannah. A guy at the hostel highly recommended it. He said you could see more animals and birds there than at the real biological reserve. This one was just a regrown forest, more open and younger but still popular with the animals. So we hiked around and I didn't see anything. One bird, that looked like a sparrow with a touch of yellow-green. I saw trees and some flowers and several butterflies and a small waterfall too, but nothing good. I actually didn't have any expectations when I first arrived here in the Monteverde cloud forest area. Other places I have expectations. Everywhere in Australia they were met. I saw my platypus. I saw emus and dingos and even the cassowary (5.5 foot tall bird with blue head and red neck that runs through the rainforest and is potentially dangerous to humans if corned or scared) and kangaroos and sharks and everything I wanted to see but the wombat. In Nepal I wanted to see a rhino and a gharial crocodile to be happy. A tiger would have been a special bonus. Well, I was happy there. Same with the Asian lion place in India.
But here seeing a quetzal (beautiful bird, sacred to the Mayans, but there are no Mayans or native peoples in Costa Rica anymore) would be like seeing a tiger. Totally awesome, but I'm not even expecting or hoping for one. But after what the guy at the hostel said, I had my hopes up for at least a monkey or a sloth or something.
Hannah left to go to the butterfly museum (probably the highlight of my stay here). I walked some more paths. While eating lunch I saw a cuatamundi (like a raccoon with a long tail and a pig's snout). It was just walking through the forest, cool. Then I saw a few more. Then they saw me. Soon I was surrounded by twelve of these not-cute-anymore animals. They weren't even afraid of me with a big stick. I had to pack up my food and leave. I thought they would jump me if I stayed any longer.
Up the trail I met a couple (of humans) who told me about an animal sleeping in a tree up a ways. I found it. Very cool. Ten feet up a strangler fig tree in a nook I saw the black hairy back and ugly naked tail of an animal. I figured it was a sloth. I finished my lunch there and it was, well, have you ever watched a sloth sleep? It's interesting for thirty seconds. I was there twenty minutes. It didn't do anything. I asked the guard dude what animal it was. It was a porcupine. Have you even watched a porcupine sleep?
Back at the information lodge I saw more of the quatamundis and a couple agoutis (yellow-brown tailless rabbits with long skinny legs). Then I saw a pretty bird (coloful, weird tail feathers). Then I met Hannah again and went looking for a special strangler fig tree that a friend in San Diego recommended seeing but we walked all over and tried following his map and didn't find it or did find it and weren't impressed at all.
I think the weather here has been great. It is sunny and raining. The rain and mist comes from the other side of the mountain, blown by the Atlantic trade winds, but there aren't many clouds. I'm going to San Jose, Costa Rica then to Panama City pretty soon. Hopefully I will be in Ecuador in a couple weeks, then to Brazil mid-March. After that I don't know what I will do.
Eric Vance
P.S. I decided to send this to y'all so here's additional explanation. Spent the past week and a half at Playa Grande with my friend Jenny from San Diego/New Zealand and her leatherback turtles. She's a biologist researching them, the largest reptile on earth, 700 lbs, 5 feet long, highly endangered due to fishing and egg poaching in the past. Had a good time helping her a little bit and hanging out at the beach. There I met Hannah who I lived with in San Diego. We came to Monteverde together. She's in Costa Rica for a few weeks, coincidence.
From: DLV Dear Mom and Dad,
I arrived in Panama City last night. It was my third overnight trip on
these travels and was uneventful.
My hotel is in a dangerous neighborhood, even though the presidential palace
is just down the street. So I didn't feel like doing anything last night
after checking into my hotel. I took a nap. Woke up, wasn't hungry, talked
to a Canadian on the balcony who was trying to get a boat to the S. Pacific.
She spent all day yesterday at the dock at the Yacht Club asking if anyone
needed crew. She had no luck, despite spending five years as a deck hand on
her father's fishing boat.
It was only eight o'clock. I was hoping to meet some people going out
because supposedly Panama city had good nightlife. I have only salsa danced
once in three and a half months in Latin America. And I have only gone
dancing three times. It's terrible. I always want to go out, but I think
there is a conspiracy against me. I don't want to go to clubs alone. In
Australia I would be fine with that, but not here. It would be dreadful.
Prostitutes would probably flock to me. And when I am around other people
they don't want to go out. But when we do go out, no place has dancing, or
it has dancing for only four star couples on a tiny stage in front of the
band.
So Jan the Canadian didn't want to go out. Nobody else was around the hotel
except middle-aged Panamanian men. I still wasn't hungry, but I went out
for dinner anyway, since Jan said the food is really good and cheap here,
and that the streets weren't all that dangerous (saying this on the safe
balcony, reading a book, eating a package of crackers).
Just down the street I found a little restaurant. Plate of food for $1. I
walked around some more, got lost, passed lots of macho bars (only men
inside with strippers and prostitutes), dark alleyways, homeless men with
their heads in cardboard boxes, crooked confusing streets. I made it back
to familiar territory without being mugged and back to the hotel too.
This morning I went to the Yacht Club. It took a very long time because I
was waiting on the wrong corner for the bus, then it didn't pass anything
that looked like a Yacht Club, then the driver didn't know what I was
talking about. He dropped me off somewhere to ask for directions. I did,
found out there were no ferrys to Ecuador, took a taxi to the club. Found
out that the Yacht Club had burned down. All that was left of it was the
dock, the diesel filling station, a swimming pool, and a bar with nobody but
waitresses and bartenders.
The guards wouldn't let me onto the dock. The man at the immigration office
said that there were people sailing to Ecuador, to the Galapagos, but I
should go to Colon on the other end of the canal to get on as crew. He said
that at the harbor there was a restaurant where everybody mixed, also a
bulletin board for skippers needing crew. He said that if I went to Colon
today I would get on a boat and be back in Panama City tomorrow.
But Jan had said that people told her that people waited in Colon for weeks
without getting a boat. There are so many people and the skippers stay a
while in port in Colon waiting their turn to cross the canal, that it takes
a long time to get a boat.
So my plan is to go to Colon tomorrow in hopes of a boat to Ecuador (the
mainland). Then I will fly to Iquitos and hope that there are boats down
the Amazon and that they take no longer than two weeks. Ugh, two weeks on a
boat down a big river.
If I don't get a boat through the Canal to Ecuador, I will fly to Caracas,
Venezuela and take buses to Brazil, assuming that there is a road. I might
have to go through Guyana, Suriname, and French Guiana. And it would
probably take two weeks. That sounds like more of an adventure, traveling
through countries I've never heard anything about without a guidebook.
Before I leave I will take a trip to see more of the canal,
Dear Mom and Dad and Angela,
I am now in Colon, the other side of the canal. I got up really early, took a taxi to the wrong place in Panama city, got it to the correct new place, took a bus, got off at the wrong spot, took a taxi to the wrong place, got it to the correct new place--the yacht club. Unlike in Panama city, Colon does have a yacht club. I talked with several people about getting on a boat to Ecuador. They said with time I could find one, because people are going that way, but they didn't know of anybody that was around the club who was going. I've also been asking about helping out on the way through the canal, but there haven't been any takers.
I took a taxi into town, even though it is within walking distance (ten minutes by foot). I took the taxi because Colon is dangerous. Even walking around at night through the ghetto in Panama City wasn't scary. But this place is. I think it is the worst city in the world. One guy at the yacht club said that he and his friend were jumped, in the daytime, on the main street. The police saw what was happening before they did and were there quick enough to save the guys.
So the taxi let me off in front of this internet place, but it wasn't opening for another ten minutes and I was hungry. The two dinners I ate last night (each with a pastry for dessert) were enough to stuff me, but that was over twelve hours ago. So I walked a couple blocks for a restaurant. The chopped up meat with sauce and some veggies over a plate of fried plantains looked good. The plantains tasted good. The meat was stomach or liver or something very tender--Colon's finest. I ate a little and left the rest. Maybe one of the tens of thousands of unemployed men ate it before el Chino took it away.
Panama City looks like America. The streets are wide, buildings pretty tall, sidewalks, pay phones, normal looking gas stations. The money here is Balboas, but they look exactly like dollars. I didn't bother changing money and nobody so far has noticed the difference. Their George Washington looks like our George Washington.Lincoln looks exactly the same too. They've even printed their new10 Balboa bills to look exactly like the US new $10 bills. They do have different coins. But since most things on the surface seem the same, the reality is disconcerting. Restaurants and shops close at 8 pm on Saturdays. No, that doesn't really matter. Most things are different, so Panama City is just weird.
Colon is less weird. I can understand it. It's like a penal colony. I am a target walking down the street. It is what it is, not something out of the twilight zone where everything seems normal but people blind their eyes sideways or something.
I will go back to Panama City later and will probably fly to Venezuela as soon as possible. I am assuming there is a road into Brazil. There ought to be. But I don't know so I might fly to Ecuador instead. I am beginning to resent my travel options because none of them are very good. I don't have enough time for it really. I have to be in Fortaleza or Recife in northern BrazilMarch 20 or March 18. And I'm starting not to like it.
Hopping I don't get mugged on the way back,
Dear Mom and Dad and Angela,
So I have been scrambling on the internet looking for information on how to get to Brazil in one month. I have come up with a plan. I will buy a plane ticket to Caracas, Venezuela, see the Angel Falls, celebrate Carnaval somewhere, maybe hike to a weird plateau, take a bus from Santa Elena to Manaus, Brazil, then a boat down the Amazon, then buses from Belem to San Luis to Fortaleza. I think it is a really good plan.
Yesterday I waited longer at the Yacht Club in Colon. But the more I sat and read or waited for my laundry, the more I thought about it, the more I didn't even want a boat to Ecuador. I wanted to just fly directly to Manaus on the Amazon. But that isn't possible, at least I don't know a way to do it; and since the maps show a road from Venezuela to Brazil, I'll take my chances with a bus.
After buying my ticket today I will take a bus to the canal. I have already seen some of it from the bridge into Panama City. I think there is a visitor's center at one of the locks. I asked around yesterday if anyone needed somebody to help them cross the canal. Most yachts do need linehandlers, but all the people I talked with weren't traveling for a while. They arrive in a country and then stay, even if it is a place like Colon. One woman was staying for a while with her husband since he broke his foot a couple weeks ago. Another guy was staying for a while to go shopping and fix stuff since his boat was struck by lightning last month which ruined all the electrical equipment.
The flight to Caracas, special youth price, will be $227. I guess that is a pretty good deal. I will try to leave tomorrow. I am a little nervous about Carnaval. It's a great festival, but probably the good places to be will be booked out.
Later,
From: Eric Vance Dear Mom and Dad and Angela,
Yesterday I spent an hour longer on email than I planned for. I wrote longer emails than I thought I would. Then I didn't get much info on Venezuela, so I walked to the bookstore mentioned in my guidebook. I flipped through some guidebooks there, no encouraging news regarding the hotels in Caracas (all expensive), but definitely my plan to get into Brazil by bus will work. I spent longer at the bookstore than I thought, and the bus back to my section of town was slower than anticipated--rush hour Panam? City.
The bus didn't take me as far as I hoped it would. On the walk to my hotel where my backpack was I asked a man in a restaurant if there were buses to the airport. He at first didn't understand my question. So I repeated, twice. And he understood and told me Yes, just across the street was the bus stop. That's what I thought, but I wanted to make sure.
So back to the hotel, got my pack quick. Walking back to the bus stop corner three buses left one after another, between 0 and 10 seconds too quickly for me. I didn't know where they were going, but I had a feeling that one was my airport bus. I had an hour and forty-five minutes before my plane was scheduled to depart. The guidebook said the airport was a half hour east of town.
A half hour later, after multitudes of buses came and left, but none with my destination, I wondered if maybe the buses didn't stop there. Five minutes later I was officially worried, but my ticket was good for up to a year, so missing a flight wouldn't be the worst thing.
Then the man from the restaurant across the street came over. 'The bus hasn't come yet?' No. He said I should go to a different place, where I could get on any bus in the city. He even gave me the $0.15 bus fare and hopped on the next bus with me. I didn't think I would make my flight because he said the bus took 1 hour, or 45 minutes. But since he was concerned about me getting to the airport, and I had no number to call to change my reservation, I decided to go to the airport anyway.
We got off the bus two blocks too early. The man continued to accompany me to the main bus congregation area. He was walking a little slower than I normally would, but when I quickened my pace, he did too. Then I saw a bus with my destination, Tocumen. A woman got on, but I was too late, one second too late. I ran alongside the bus trying to get the driver's attention, but he didn't stop.
Because I was running, I missed another Tocumen bus. By the time I noticed it and went for it, it left. I had missed it by three seconds. Then I waited 10 minutes for the next bus.
I didn't think I could make my flight, but maybe if it only took 45 minutes. The bus was moving fast, hitting every green light and not stopping for many passengers. Maybe I would make it afterall. But then red lights, detours. My only hope was that the flight was delayed.
I got off the bus, walked from the highway to the airport parking lot and into the lobby, ten minutes late. At the airline office the woman confirmed that I was too late and gave me a reservation for today.
So I missed the first flight ever in my life. It was a good experience. Nothing bad really happened. So many miniscule bad decisions and random factors caused me to miss the flight that maybe I wasn't supposed to be on it anyway. I hope that's the case.
So with an extra day at my disposal I went to the Canal museum. It was very well put together, but all in Spanish. My Spanish is still good enough to read museum displays, but not good enough to do it quickly or enjoyably. The most interesting thing I learned was that the train fare in the 1850s across the isthmus was $25 first class, $10 second class. Today, a 1hr 15 minute first class bus is $2. The slower second class bus costs $1.50.
My plan for Venezuela is one night/day in Caracas, night bus to Ciudad Bolivar, two days to get to and see Angel Falls, go to a town/city on the way to the border to celebrate Carnaval. Maybe make a five day trek around the flat topped mountains of the Gran Sabana near Guyana and Brazil, then take the bus to Manaus, Brazil, down the Amazon on a boat for 5 days to Belem. Then buses all the way down to Rio.
Ciao,
From: DLV Dear Mom and Dad (and friends),
I've got my plan all sorted out. I did not get on a sailboat through the canal or to S. America, though I spent two days at both ends of the canal asking around. Instead, I am flying this evening to Caracas, Venezuela. From the internet I found a map with a road from Venezuela into Brazil. If there's a road, there's a way, and I'm going.
I don't know what I will do in Venezuela, but Carnaval is in a few days and that will inevitably change any plans I might make. And I don't have much info on Venezuela (or Brazil) anyway, so I can't plan much, except that I would like to see Angel Falls (highest waterfall in the world).
Yesterday I went to the canal. Travel agencies around Panama City actually sell tours to see the canal, but it only includes bus transport which can be gotten easily on a city bus for 50 cents. So the place I went, the Miraflores Locks, is a legitimate tourist destination. They've built some raised bleachers for people to sit and watch ships pass through the canal. While the ship is going through, a canal guide explains the process in English and Spanish, one sentence at a time. Basically the ships enter the lock, the gates close, the water drains out lowering the ships, the gates open, the ships leave.
I got to see the entire process of a huge passenger cruise liner pass through. All the cruise tourists were on the decks to watch the event. There was a hush from the observing crowd as the water from the lock drained into the Pacific. For the next fifteen minutes we were on pins and needles as the boat was slowly lowered, 2.5 feet per minute (one inch every two seconds!) Then the seven feet thick, seven stories high gates opened. For the next ten minutes the cruise ship moved into the next lock. All thepassengers on board waved at and took pictures of the tourists waving at and taking pictures of the shippassing by at avery slow walking pace.
I hung around for the eight minute topographic map/slideshow spectacular about the canal.
Panam? City is weird. The sun rises over the Pacific and sets over the Atlantic (check out the map if you don't believe me). Their currency is the Balboa. 1 Balboa equals 1 US dollar. The Balboa bills look amazingly like dollars. Same color, same size, same signatures--even the same presidents! I have been staying in the old part of town which looks like Havana (50 year old crumbling buildings). But the business district with the internet cafes looks like the US. The streets are wide, the buildings tall, the shops nice, but wildly painted school buses (with knights, naked ladies, and Christ has Already Come (on the same bus)) zoom back and forth.
More later from S. America,
I haven't written to you for a while because you are not on my regular email list. If you would like more emails, let me know. I am leaving C. America for S. America tonight, and here's a recap.
I left San Diego, California in October and struggled in Mexico without a guidebook and without knowing the language. But then my Spanish improved in a week (to where it is now, even though I spent three weeks in Xela, Guatemala studying it) and I've had a good time traveling through Guatemala, Belize, Cuba, Honduras, Nicaragua, Costa Rica, and now Panama. I'm going to Venezuela, Brazil, Bolivia, Peru, maybe Ecuador until June, then back to the United States.
Now I am off to S. America where many more wonders await I'm sure.
Happy travels,
From: Eric Vance Dear Mom and Dad and Angela, and PS for Octavio
I havent slept in a bed for nine nights. First was three nights in Canaima where I went on a tour to see the Angel Falls. The tour was terrible. The seller lied to me and everyone else. I sort of expected it, but was still disappointed that we didnt see Angel Falls. I had to organize a flight there myself. So I did see the falls, very similar to Yosemite Falls.
Once back in Ciudad Bolivar I met two Norwegians, Helle and Kaya who were going on a hike to Roraima starting the next day. A hike there was in my plans too, but I was going to wait a few dazs and organize and stuff. But thez invited me along (or I invited mzself) so I got on the night bus, then hiked for six dazs, five nights.
Roraima is a reallz cool, weird place. Its one of those places I had never heard about until I got close to it, but I should have. Check out some pictures on the internet if zou have time. It sort of is like another world.
So Roraima is a tepuy, a flat-topped sandstone mountain, 2-3 billion zears old, but onlz uncovered on the surface for the past 500 million zears. Half the plants on top occur no where else in the world. Many of the animals are found elsewhere onlz in fossils. The rocks are in bizarre formations due to all the zears of erosion. Some streams and waterfalls are on top and have pink sand beaches. There are lots of flowers, several carnivorous species. And often everything is shrouded in mist.
The hike was good. We ate verz well (quantity, but not the quality of our John Muir food). Had a local Indian guide. I didnt like having to have a guide, but he was necessary for navigating on top. We hiked for eights hours on the top to Triple Point, the borders of Guyana, Brasil, and Venezuela. Saw so manz weird rocks and plants.
Tomorrow I will try for mz Brasilean visa. Hopefullz it will be quick and I will be in Brazil tomorrow and on a boat down the Amazon soon afterward.
Tchau,
PS My friend Rebecca is flying into Rio on the 18th, but then flying soon after to Fortaleza so she will just staz in the airport for 4 hours. I think. Im not really sure. Thanks for the Portuguese phrases. Ill see you in four weeks or a little sooner.
From: Eric Vance Dear Mom and Dad,
Things are still moving very quickly for me. I thought I would have to stay in Venezuela a little longer while waiting for my visa, but I got it the same day and took 16 hours worth of buses and now I am in Manuas, Brazil. On my way to a cheap hotel I met a Canadian guy, Blair, I had just met in Venezuela. He told me about the jungle trip he was doing and how it was recommended by the people he had been traveling with and how we could get a lower price by being two people. So I checked into the hotel, checked out the tour, got Brazilian money, and bought the tour for tomorrow.
It will be three days, two nights (another touristic tour) on the small Amazonian tributaries and in the jungle itself. It actually sounds very good. The second day will be spent walking through the jungle, then making a shelter and hanging our hammocks in the jungle (the Amazon rainforest).
Since Panama the nights have been hotel, hotel, hammock, hammock, hammock (three day/two night, plus additional night in Canaima to see Angel Falls) bus, thermarest, thermarest, thermarest, thermarest, thermarest (non-touristic backpack trip to incredible tabletop mountain of Roraima), hotel, bus; and now hotel, hammock, hammock, hotel, hammock, hammock, hammock, hammock (for the boat trip down the Amazon). I don't even like hammocks, but I need to buy one for the voyage to the Atlantic coast.
From the bus, the difference between Venezuela and Brazil was almost immediately apparent. Venezuela was savannah. Brazil was rainforest. On the bus I saw destruction of the rainforest firsthand. Burning jungle at night is quite a sight. One meal stop at night was near a burning site. All the air was smoky and smelled of parrots, sloths, frogs, and rare medicinal plants.
Last night at midnight I imagined I crossed the equator. I know it's just a line, but I made a special effort to wake up, put my shoes on, and walk to the back of the bus for a celebratory cup of water which I imagined was champagne. I decided not to wake my two German friends next to me on the bus, but I imagined they were celebrating with me too. It was a pretty cool imaginary party.
Not knowing any Portuguese is almost liberating. Now I have an excuse as to why I can't understand the locals. In Spanish I should have understood, but didn't. Now I can go back to guessing and hand gestures.
Tchao,
From: Eric Vance Dear Mom and Dad,
I spent three days in the Amazon rainforest. I didn't learn much about the jungle, but it was still a really good experience. This afternoon I am taking a boat downriver for 30 hours to Santarem where hopefully I can catch another boat to Belem on the coast.
Maybe the highlight of the trip was spending one night in the deep jungle. From the base camp we (the guide, me and Blair from Canada) canoed a bit up the river (a tributary of the Amazon), then walked for two hours to a shelter the guide Norbert had made on previous trips. The shelter was like a lean-to with palm fronds serving as the roof and space to hang our hammocks.
Nothing happened in the jungle, but it was still cool. I had bugs (mostly cockroaches) crawling on me. When it rained during the night I got wet, but I could cover up with my rain jacket and a blanket and continue sleeping. I slept in my clothes which were wet from sweat, and wet from the rain, but the jungle was warm enough.
Most of my time out there was spent on the canoe. We fished for pirranahs. I didn't catch any, but everybody else caught a few. Just paddling through the forest was an experience. I felt like I was back in California, on the news, canoeing between houses and trees after a flood. The river really could have been a huge parking lot. It seemed like it, just flooded with a couple feet of water, trees on both sides. The rain came and I heard the loudest thunder ever.
I saw two dolphins, a small caiman (alligator), a small monkey, a wild pig, and not much else. This part of the rainforest doesn't have much wildlife because the water is acidic (from the tanin, which keeps the area mostly free of mosquitoes).
The guide was a real jungle man, but his English was bad and he didn't talk much. What's this Norberto? Insect.
He told a few incredible jungle stories, but I was disappointed that he wasn't a better teacher of the rainforest.
That's it,
From: Eric Vance Dear Mom and Dad and Angela,
I am now in Fortaleza. Have any of you read Around the World in 80 Days? Sometimes I think I could make it in 75, even if I planned for 80. I am meeting Rebecca here in three days. I didn't stop anywhere on the way because I didn't know where to stop.
My first boat was only part of the way down the Amazon. But once at the end stop, I was on another boat headed downriver after only an hour layover, at 3 in the morning. The boat stopped and lots of people stayed on, like me waiting until the morning to make further connections. But then a guy came around and shouted some stuff from the dock and repeated the magic word Belem! a few times, so I packed my bags and followed him to a new boat, to Belem. And once in Belem I went straight to the bus station, just for information. Got no info, but a bus straight to Fortaleza, 24 hours.
The bus was exactly the same as the boat, only one fourth as long and no rice, chicken, spaghetti, or farina (fried bits of manioc flour) was served; and I couldn't lounge in my hammock, or look for river dolphins, or walk around the decks or read in the sun or watch the rain come down the river; but otherwise I did the same things: eat candy and read King Lear (three times) and another book for the second time.
I enjoyed the boats. There was nothing to do, and that was the best part. I didn't feel as if I had to do anything. Usually I have a guidebook that I could be reading and studying, or a phrasebook, but not now. I only had books I had already read.
Lunch and dinner on both boats were the same (occasionally a salad or beans or beef soup in addition to the four basics or Amazonian cuisine). They were the same as what I ate for three days at the jungle camp. Oh yeah, on the dinner stop on the bus I had rice, farina, chicken, and declined the spaghetti (with a little butter and bell peppers, never any sauce).
This could be the first paragraph of the letter instead of the last. In the past 5 days I did nothing but sit, look (forest, deforest, roadside towns, riverside shacks, canoes), read, and eat gumdrops and coconut candy. I didn't talk. I didn't think. I didn't exercise or improve myself. And it's over and I am tired and sleepy. And I still have the last act of King Lear to rerereread.
Later,
PS (Angela) On my hike to Roraima in Venezuela I thought about doing another hike, from Tahoe to Yosemite. But maybe we should go to a different area. And I want to have a job in September. Why do Kee-tov again? Let's hike in July. Oh yeah. I was also thinking about a bicycle trip from San Francisco to San Diego stopping at the California missions. It would be the same length as a wilderness hike. I think really what I want to do is dehydrate more food. I really like doing that. A hike or a bike trip would be an excuse to cook and eat the dehydrated food. And maybe I could try to write a book about the trip, something productive besides experiences. We'll talk more about it later.
From: Eric Vance Dear Mom and Dad and Angela,
Thanks for developing my film. Let me know if I should be doing anything differently when taking pictures (too many buildings, not enough other people, too many of me, not enough everyday life...) I always thought Yosemite was the Sunday following the fourth Saturday of June, but then I looked at a calendar and that would mean July Forth was rarely at Yosemite. It's really good news to me. I was going to blitz from Maryland to Yosemite in two weeks by hitchhiking. Now I can travel a bit slower. Not slower, just to more places.
Yesterday I forgot to write about the highlight of my day. So I will write about it today. Yesterday I missed breakfast for two reasons. One, my clock was still on Manaus time, so instead of getting up at 8:30, it was really 9:30. I didn't need to sleep in so long, but I figured why not? I had nothing much planned for the day, so why not enjoy the rare chance of sleeping in a bed. Two, I intentionally skipped it out of ignorance. At check in to the youth hostel (mostly empty, mostly otherwise Brazilians) the clerk told me there was coffe in the morning from 7:30 to 9:30. OK, great. I don't even like coffee. Sometimes when I have it it gives me a headache. So I wasn't going to get up just for some coffee.
Turns out that in Brazilian, "breakfast" is "coffee in the morning" "caf? da manha". The coffee was really hot chocolate, bread rolls, fruit, and sponge cake. It was free and I missed it. But I still had a dozen eggs and learned a new way to cook them. Either it's a new way, or the eggs here taste better than in the US.
Out of all I can remember right now of my travels, this little coffee of the morning episode was the biggest language gaffe/miscommunication I have made. It was even bigger than the time, upon meeting the woman of the house in Xela, when I asked her if she was "tired" instead of married. My point is that language really isn't a problem. I can usually guess what people mean no matter what language they speak.
Today I walked around the cultural complex. I think all but the bookstore was closed. So I bought "Robinson Crusoe" cheaply. I considered getting Hamlet, but I think Rebecca is bringing some books, and, although I have a new appreciation for Shakespeare, reading King Lear so many times was a drag.
Mom, working in Yosemite for the summer is not a feasible suggestion. The application is probably already past due (I learned that five summers ago when Grandpa thought I should get a job in Yosemite) and they probably wouldn't hire anyone for the summer--minus the whole month of June. Unless someone knows someone who wants to hire someone like me for something more than selling ice and newspapers, I won't get a job in Yosemite. Still, it would be nice to work there, as a gardener or info ranger or trail maintenence. I'll check out their website.
Ouch! That was a pinch I gave myself for not wearing green. This is probably the first St. Patrick's Day I haven't had anything green to wear, though I intentionally saved a green, one Real note in my pocket and I drew a shamrock on my hand.
Happy St. Patrick's Day,
From: Eric Vance Dear Mom and Dad,
I am in Salvador de Bahia in the Northeast of Brazil. One guidebook called it 'The Black Rome.' It's more like The Black Lisbon or even The Brazilian Lisbon. It's an old colonial town, but then again, it's not. It's one of Brazil's best cities. It would be a tourist destination without the old buildings and churches and cobblestone streets. So it's cool. It's not just a stupid old city, it's a real city, with cool old parts.
It seems strange to describe Salvador as being in the Northeast. From Venezuela, the biggest country bordering Brazil in the north, I took a five hour bus ride south, then an overnight bus trip south to Manaus. For four days I traveled east on the Amazon. Then I took a 24 hour bus trip south to Fortaleza. There I met my friend Rebecca, here in Brazil for two weeks between terms at her writing grad school. We went to a cool beach place 7 hours away called Jericoacoara. I had heard that it was one of the top ten beaches in the world and the best beach in Brazil. I think hearing such things and having high expectations detract from the experience. The beach was really cool, something I haven't seen before. A huge dune was on the beach. I don't know how tall it was, but I could say 600 ft high. Maybe it was only 200 ft tall, but it was very, very, big--spectacular.
We went back to Fortaleza, then took another 12 hour overnight bus trip south to Olinda, another colonial town with nothing to offer besides it's oldness. From there it was 12 hours south to Salvador. That is 65 hours south in a bus, and still I am in the 'Northeast.` Brazil is a very big country. It's still 24 hours (on the super express bus) south to Rio.
Rebecca and I have been going to fancy restaurants (all restaurants with waiters and tablecloths and non-plastic chairs are fancy to me). Looking at churches. Riding on buses. To the beach. Jumping off sand dunes. A couple good sunsets. No interesting museums. Struggling with Portuguese. Did I mention the good food? That's probably been the highlight so far. They sell Doce de Leite (Sweet of Milk) which is actually carmel, in jars and metal cans. I ate 800g of this carmel stuff. I would never open a jar of carmel ice cream topping and eat it with a spoon, but I think it's normal in Brazil--so I indulge.
Later,
From: Eric Vance Dear Mom and Dad and Angela,
Another email from Brazil, but I'm not sure what to write about. I'm still in Salvador, Brazil's semi-European city with many people of African heritage. Rebecca and I are going to Rio tomorrow. It's a 24 hour bus ride.
I have seen some churches, church museums, and one other museum. It had some written English descriptions. Hooray for that. Maybe the other museums do too. I will go to one this afternoon.
I haven't eaten any more carmel from a can. I've looked around, but maybe it's just a far-Northeastern Brazil thing. Salvador is the palm oil capital. Rebecca and I went to an all-you-can-eat fancy buffet with 40 dishes plus desserts. I ate too much, got sick of the palm oil, gained three pounds, and couldn't go out dancing that night as planned.
Nothing super interesting has happened. I haven't met any interesting people. Salvador is really cool. The old city is the high city. It's right on the ocean/bay but 500 feet up. Last night Rebecca and I walked home from the beach and got lost and walked through rundown parts of town and couldn't figure out the map. Then went entered a bus terminal, walked up five flights of stairs, and found ourselves in a whole new, familiar city.
OK, that's it,
From: Eric Vance Dear Mom and Dad,
I am leaving Salvador in an hour. Tomorrow I will be in Rio. It's a little strange to spend an entire day in a bus, but I have done it enough times to be used to it. I actually enjoy long bus rides since there is no pressure to do anything. I can do whatever I want, and if I don't do anything, it really doesn't matter. So tomorrow I will be in Rio, and I don't even have Octavio's phone number! Do you? I emailed him yesterday, but no reply yet. I have emailed him personally (he is on my list) a few times and he has replied. Of course he is excited to meet me. We might go scuba diving south of Rio. But he never gave me his number. I am not sure if he lives with his mother or not. Anyway, any info you have would be appreciated.
I got your letter from Jenny. I will make a stop in Lancaster since the invitation was so nice.
Rebecca and I went to a special church this morning. The guidebook says its so great and blah, blah, because it is like the biggest pilgrimage sight, or one of them, in Brazil. It was hardly anything. A church, a few things. Mildly interesting.
That's it,
From: Eric Vance Dear Mom and Dad,
I am still in Rio de Janeiro and still haven't met Octavio. Do you know his mother's name?
I will write more about Rio later today probably. Quite a bit has happened. Rio is a great city. The setting is almost perfect. The hills around the city aren't like a chain of hills. They are so many individual hills, like random drops of bisquik batter with apartment buildings all around and beaches everywhere.
Telephone directories are not readily available. First off, very few people speak English or even Spanish, and Portuguese might look like Spanish on paper, but doesn't sound similar. But I was able to ask a guy at the police station to look up Octavio's phone number, but he wasn't listed. Does he still live with his mother?
Rebecca missed her flight on Saturday, so left yesterday. I want to stay here to meet Octavio and his parents and everything, but I am very tired of Rio now. The city is great, but it is super dangerous. Seriously, if you walk around the wrong places you will get mugged. And I want to continue my travels.
Later,
From: Eric Vance Dear Mom and Dad and friends,
Introduction: Rio de Janeiro is named after the River of January, named by the Portuguese explorers in January, 1502, when they first saw it, or thought they had. In fact, no such river exists. There is no river in Rio. Another thing: Rio is pronounced Hee-ooh. The one Portuguese word everyone in the world knows--rio--wouldn't be understood in Brazil. And the citizens of Rio are called Cariocas (don't ask me how it's prounounced.)
After some jungle adventures in the Amazon, and four days on a boat down the river, and many hours of bus rides, I met my friend Rebecca in Fortaleza on the Northeast coast. Rebecca and I have a history of meeting in exotic places: Budapest, Czech Republic, New York, Brazil, Modesto. For two weeks we traveled down the coast to Rio.
Smashed in between and around green hills, white beaches, and the bay (bright blue on a clear day) Rio is a spectacular city. I get the feeling that I could live here.
On Friday, Rebecca and I went to the Corcovado, the hill with the statue of Jesus with outstretched arms. The view from up top is absolutely amazing, even though it was a cloudy and hazy day. But maybe the best part was the statue itself. The 30 metre sculpture can be seen from all over the city--if you can see between the highrises. Even from afar, the statue has detail and looks nearby. We were all set to have our photo taken in front of it, but the clouds became heavier and only the outline of the statue could be seen. Then, in front of our eyes, this rough, hulking cross figure magically transformed into a compassionate Christ as the mist cleared. It was awesome.
We went back down to the city, had lunch, visited Ipanema beach, walked around. The real plan was to go out dancing--taste some of Rio's nightlife. None of our other attempts at Brazilian nightlife, in almost two weeks, ever worked out. So this Friday night date in Rio was highly anticipated. Since Rebecca was flying the next morning back to the US, the night was our only chance.
But first we went to Copacabana Beach--justly famous, crowded and beautiful. We decided to walk along the beach on our way to the metro station. [It was 6:30 pm] We walked between one of the several organized soccer games to the water's edge and strolled along. At one spot Christ the Redemptor statue on Corcovado could be seen behind a nearby hill and between some skyscraper hotels, so we stopped and stood for a while at that romantic spot.
Four guys came up to us, one holding an umbrella. I sort of said like, No, we're not interested. In their abrupt Portuguese they said, 'No, you misunderstand us. Give us your money!' I couldn't believe it. I looked around. Nobody was by the water. The soccer players were 30 metres away. The beach was pretty well-lit, it was barely nighttime, and still we were being mugged!
"No," I shouted. "I'm not giving you money!" My thought was to make as much noise as possible. Then one of the four guys (young, black, well-muscled, but short) punched me in the face. First thought, 'I've been punched. This is the first fight I've been in since the first grade (when I was six).' Second thought, 'Oh yeah, I only have 10 Reias ($5) in my pocket. You're supposed to immediated give the muggers the money.' I said (still yelling), "OK, OK. Here's my money!" One guy took it, but they wanted more. "I DON'T HAVE ANY MORE MONEY." I felt my shirt pocket again, only coins. But the guy seemed interested in them. When I reached into the pocket for the loose change the puncher hit me again, same place, left eyebrow (going for my nose but I turned). Then they rushed at me to check my pockets and take Rebecca backpack which I was carrying. They punched and kicked me and picked my pockets and ripped the pack from my shoulders, but I still had a hold of a strap. "THERE'S NO MONEY IN THERE."
Third thought: 'Being punched isn't so bad. I don't want them to take our two cameras (and film). I'm not going to give them the pack if I can help it.' At one point the puncher kept hitting my face, one guy went through my pockets, and one guy kicked me while pulling at the backpack. But I tried to defend the punches with my left arm, use my knees to get the pickpocket away, and grabbed the kicker's leg with my my arm while holding onto the bag with my right hand.
Fourth thought: 'This guy probably knows capoeria (a martial arts dance).' So I let go of his leg.
After another blow by the puncher I got mad. "DAMMIT. YOU'RE NOT GETTING THE BACKPACK. THERE'S NO MONEY IN THERE."
Sometime Rebecca screamed. Fifth thought: 'Oh yeah. Rebecca's here. Maybe I should be protecting her rather than our stuff.' I looked over. She was crying, but she was okay. The fourth guy was just sort of standing near her not doing anything.
Then the guys left. Probably after Rebecca's scream or maybe due to a blowing whistle from the nearest soccer game. So they were gone and Rebecca was okay and I still had a firm grip on the backpack. We walked up the beach. The soccer players said, nonchalantly, "You should get the police."
My face kind of hurt a little. My lip was bloody and a little bit of blood was in my nose and I figured I'd have a big welt on my eyebrow and hopefully a black eye. I was still pumped with adrenaline and more angry at the punks. They wanted to steal our backpack even though I told them there was no money in it. Bastards! I think moral indignation made me stronger.
Found a policeman (sitting in his car on the far side of the street, protecting or serving nothing). He spoke no English and his Portuguese wasn't good either. It doesn't matter to me if someone speaks English, but I get upset when they can't even communicate with me. Just repeat something and say it in different ways and use hand motions and I can understand anything.
The cop called another cop. I explained the story again in Portuguese. "Four men. Money. (Punch, punch, punch). Backpack. (Make fist, very angry, I keep backpack.)" So we walked to his car. He didn't say a single word, neither did his partner the driver. Before the car started I looked around to make sure they were real cops, not just some scam artists.
The only thing the muggers got was R$10, my sunhat, and my notepad. The hat was old and very replaceable (and in nearly every photo of me since Cuba). The notepad had a bunch of listings of bus departure times and ticket prices. The money was worth only $5 (and that split between two people). I didn't lose anything and I wasn't hurt, but I still wanted to report it to the police. Muggings at 6:45 pm on a crowded, well-lit beach shouldn't happen. Why don't they just have a policeman walking on the beach rather than sleeping in his car?
Traffic was pretty bad. The cops didn't say where they were going. We assumed to the station, but I didn't know how far away it was, and the ride was taking forever. I wanted to get back to our hotel (in a different part of town) early enough for a nice meal before our dancing. So I looked around and asked some questions in Portuguese (but my Portuguese isn't very good) and finally said in English. "I'm bored. No more. Just let us out." I thought about jumping out of the car at a stoplight. But the cops didn't want us to leave since the station was just around the corner.
Made police report. The guy spoke very good English. Waited around a bit, then the cops drove us back to the hotel.
My lip was still bloody and I counted three bumps on my eyebrow and six total punches plus a scrape on my left forearm, but I didn't look as bad as I hoped. My neck was a little sore and my back too.
It was really quite late. Rebecca and I changed into our dancing clothes and caught a bus to a place recommended in our guidebook ('The most famous of the gafeiras [traditional Brazilian dance clubs]. Young crowd, live band,...')
We were a little surprised when we got there since the area looked like a ghost town (old European style buildings, misty, deserted except for the shady characters in the street corners). Rebecca was really nervous about walking around there. I was nervous that maybe muggers were like sharks and could smell fresh blood. But I was hungry (it was 11:45 pm) and the club didn't sound or appear to be good to me, so we walked around just a bit, no food, no nice restaurant, last night in Rio, dining experience. We did buy a package of crackers.
But still, dancing for the night--our one night out in Rio, in Brazil.
Uh-oh, the waiters are old men. Uh-oh, only ten couples in the building. Uh-oh. No one under 30. Uh-oh, what are they dancing? Five couples on the dance floor doing some sort of dance. I am already pretty bad at salsa and merengue, but an unknown dance? I have no chance. It was Friday night, midnight, and the club was old and empty. We sat at a table. Tried figuring out the dances. Couldn't. Tried something anyway. Had fun anyway bungling through two songs. Left.
Rebecca flew home a couple days ago. I moved into a hostel in Copacabana (nearly on the same street I was mugged). I finally made contact with Octavio (exchange student with us for one year, eight years ago) and tomorrow he will show me the real Rio.
Tschau,
From: Eric Vance Dear Mom and Dad and Angela,
So I finally met Octavio two days ago. Rebecca left on Sunday, so Monday I was going to go to Octavio's apartment by bus. I knew his address and his area of town, but nothing else. So I was reluctant to go, preferring to wait for him to contact me or to find out his phone number somehow.
Monday was the day to do it. I wanted to be there after 5 pm, so someone would be home, but also I didn't really want to go to a strange neighborhood at night. I ended up sort of wasting time, like dawdling, until finally I found a map with his street and figured out which buses to take. But then it was already dark and sort of late. At the next street clock I saw, I told myself, "If it is after 7, I won't go." It was 7:02. But still I wanted to go, maybe. I went to the street for the buses and saw one with his neighborhood. It stopped and someone got on, but I didn't. I was just too reluctant to do it.
I wondered if I was reluctant because I was afraid of doing it, or if my intuition was telling me something. I thought that maybe we should only do the things we are sure of, but make sure to do all those things. It takes courage to do the things we know we should do, and courage to not do the things we are hesitant to do. It's hard. I don't know how to figure it out.
I ended up not getting on a bus. I wanted to go to Octavio's apartment, but not at night. So I resolved to start earlier the next day. On my way back to the hostel, I checked email. Octavio had written. An hour later of phone card troubles, I talked with him. He came to pick me up and take me out to dinner.
He arrived with his girlfriend, Graciela. She is pretty and nice and smart. Octavio doesn't have glasses anymore and has gained maybe 30 pounds. He might even weigh more than I do, though he's not fat, just inflated. We three went to a Mexican restaurant ("Best Mexican in Rio.") after I introduced him to the girls downstairs. He had somehow called their room asking for Rebecca. He invited any of them to come with us, but they were planning to go out to a notorious disco. He strongly warned them against it. "Is it really that bad?" they asked. "No. It's worse." Then he said, "My friend went there once and he saw...two girls kissing. Like this close. Yeah. Really."
Graciela speaks no English, but that's not really true. She found out that she could understand most of what I said, and she could say a few words, enough to converse while Octavio was away from the table. She and Octavio are planning on getting married, maybe in two years or something. He hasn't proposed, but she is definitely the one.
We made plans to go out Wednesday, today. He was going to show me the real Rio. He couldn't yesterday because he had to call a doctor who might give him a job (he just graduated from physical therapy school). Last night I called him and he said he had to make the call this morning, so we might go out this afternoon or maybe Friday. This morning I called and he said the doctor asked him to call him at noon today, so I will call Octavio back and see what's up. This weekend Octavio has a class, so we can't go diving like we had sort of planned.
I do not like waiting around here whatsoever. I want to leave Rio. I've seen it, done it. It's over. I want to get on the next bus out of town. A big soccer match is being played this Saturday, which I would like to see, but only if I have to be here on Friday. Prefferably I could go around with Octavio today, eat dinner with his mother at their apartment tonight, and leave tomorrow.
Later,
From: Eric Vance Dear Mom and Dad and Angela,
Yesterday I met Octavio again. We were going to go up into the hills for
good views and maybe something else, then go to his apartment for dinner
with his family. When he arrived at my hostel he told me plans had changed.
We were going diving instead of driving. Cool. So we went to his
father's diveshop for the equipment. I didn't meet the father. Then we
went to cove right by the Sugarloaf mountain. It was the first dive I've
done from a beach.
The dive site was pretty bad. The plastic bags and fishing lines and coke
cans were part of the experience I guess. We didn't go very deep and the
water was cloudy, but it was still cool. The highlight was seeing the
Flying fish. They looked like normal fish, but when frightened they sort of
detached these sticks from their sides, like arms attached at shoulders.
When really frightened these sticks fanned out into wings, beautifully blue,
like butterflies.
It took an hour fifteen to drive to his house. It would have taken forever
to get there by bus. I'm so glad I hesitated Monday night. His
neighborhood has 11 McDonalds and lots of shopping malls. Even some trendy
chain restaurants, like Outback Steakhouse. His building is withing a gated
community, a real community with two schools, a park, apartment playgrounds
and swimming pools, shops and restaurants.
I met his mother and sister and stepdad. We chatted then ate. Bread rolls
and cold cuts. Dessert was cake (the maid made) and ice cream. I showed
them my photos and saw some of theirs.
Octavio lives in a tiny room, big enough for a small bed and two people to
stand, touching. Set in the walls he has cable TV, stereo, and computer.
The rest of the apartment was nice, much more fancy than our house.
Being around the family was a little stressful. Octavio is really bossy and
insulting to his mother and sister. He cuts them down after almost
everything they say and you can even kind of see the pain they feel in their
faces.
Today I went on a favela tour. Favelas are the slums built up on the hills
in Rio. It was a disappointment. Tour time was only 2 hours 15 minutes,
with much or most of that in the van. We drove up into a big one, Roscina,
with 150,000 residents. But we stayed on the main road so only saw shops.
I would have liked to walk withing the building where the real stuff is
happening. The part I was just looked like Mexico or something.
In the second favela we visited a favela school. The whole point of the
favelas is that the children don't have schools, so we went ahead and
visited one with a private school (started by the rich people who live next
door). It wasn't really a school, just a morning day-care center before the
kids go at 11 am to the government community school. The children I saw
were just playing cards and coloring Easter bunnies.
We walked through part of that favela. It was nice. The streets were very
narrow, big enough for a wheelbarrow probably. And it was mostly clean.
The guide said that favela was one of the success stories of the
government's new program to clean them up.
We then went to a bakery started by a guy from the favela. It was really
lame. The guide told us a story (boy helped a German baker make apple
struddel. German died. Boy continued and now makes other stuff, like
garlic bread and other sweets. They are very good...) Nobody bought any
apple struddel because they were really big loafs and cost R$7. We didn't
even get a free sample after all his hype of how good everything was. The
other 10 tourists didn't seem to mind. I thought it sucked.
Going to Foz de Iguacu (watch The Mission with Robert Diniero),
From: Eric Vance Dear Mom and Dad,
The country I am in right now is the size of California.
After meeting Octavio in Rio de Janeiro and going scuba diving with him in the bay, I went to the Iguazu Falls on the border of Brazil, Argentina, and Paraguay. The bus ride there was just like all the other 23 hour bus rides in S. America. Well, not really. It was still fun though.
The Iguacu Falls are a reason to travel. The other reasons I have are to eat new and interesting foods (especially sweets), to meet interesting people, and to see cool stuff like the Amazon, Rio de Janeiro, Havana, Chichen Itza at sunrise, etc. So mark it down on your map. Iguazu is a place to go.
The first day was from the Brazilian side. The first view was 'Wow, Omigod.' There's so much water just falling everywhere in such green forest. The movie "The Mission" starring Robert DeNiro shows off the falls. I think there is a scene where a Jesuit missionary goes over the edge stapled to a cross. It's really cool. See the movie. Or better yet, fly into Rio, fly into Iguacu, and visit the falls yourself.
The next day, yesterday, I went to the Argentinian side. Most people told me that side was more impressive, but I didn't think it could be. After seeing down the middle of the biggest fall from a walkway built across the river, well, mightily impressive, but still the Brazilian view was better. But then in the main part of the Argentinian side, the walkways got down really into the falls. Around each corner was an even better view of the falls. What makes them so impressive is that they are so many. Just imagine a Vernal Fall next to a Nevada Fall, n ext to another Vernal Fall, below one of those Hawaiian falls, and all multiplied in ten different spots. There is even an island surrounded by the falls and with falls of its own. The water was so white, and the forest so green, and the sky blue. It was beautiful.
On the Brazilian side is a post with "May Peace Prevail on Earth" written in eight different languages. You can stand there with a panaramic view of the falls and think that if falls such as these could really exist, then world peace is possible too.
Peace and Love,
From: Eric Vance Dear Mom and Dad and Angela,
So I am in Paraguay, in the capital Asuncion. I think this country is the least interesting of all the countries I have visited.
Today I slept in, had breakfast, walked to the river and saw the Paraguayan Navy building and some boats. (They only go on the rivers since Paraguay is landlocked, like Switzerland.)Then I went to the Government Palace where the president lives. Somebody's guidebook I read in Brazil said the dictator who built it ordered anyone who walked by the building without permission to be shot. The book said times have changed. Well, I stood in front of the building wondering if there was anything inside for the tourist. Then the guards shot me. Not really. One just told me to leave. He said I wasn't allowed to stand there.
I went to Chamber of Delegates. Not allowed inside. The House of Legislature. Not allowed in there either. The cathedral, only in by a side door. The front gates were locked. The old Central Post Office had a stamp museum inside. The Independence House had a museum too. I also went into the National Art Museum. It had two rooms. I saw the ruins of the Municipal Theater. Saw the Heroes Pantheon. The Old Central Railroad Station. Five parks/squares. Nothing was interesting.
But the food is interesting. On the bus from Brazil, at two stops, uniformed women boarded and sold chipas, like bagels made with cheese. It was hard to tell what was cheese and what was bread. The bagels had some spices too. Very good. A tea seller also boarded. Very nice, sweet tea.
The highlight of my stay in Paraguay is the yerba mate tea. It's a national obsession. Half the people walking down the streets carry thermoses and their tea cups. The cups are usually silver and have the chopped up tea in them. The water is poured into, then the tea is sucked through a metal, silver straw which has a filter on the bottom. The straw is shaped at top like an oboe reed. It's pretty cool. The tea is pretty good too.
In two hours I will be on a bus to Bolivia. 28 hours if I stay on the whole way to Santa Cruz. I don't know if I will since I want to go to Sucre. A map I saw shows a dirt road from Boyuibe, a town on the way to Santa Cruz. I might get off there if I think I could get to Sucre that way. Otherwise it is at least 18 hours from Santa Cruz to Sucre. Bolivia is very mountainous.
Later,
From: Eric Vance Dear Mom and Dad,
After 48 hours of bus rides from Paraguay, I arrived in Cochabamba, Bolivia. On the buses I met two other gringos, Walter from Holland and Reynald, France. My plan/hope was to go to Sucre, but the road connections looked iffy at best, better to stick on the main roads with Cochabamba a stop in the middle.
Reynald was coming here for his friends' wedding next week. At the terminal I met the friends: Paul (Pablo), 18, raised in New York, in Bolivia to finish high school, and Wilda, 22, Boliviana student. One thing led to another for big plans yesterday, Friday, Good Friday.
Oh yeah, Paul is a character. He looks like a wannabe American. Sideways baseball cap, fake limp, hoop earrings, basketball uniform shirt, supersize baggy pants, hi-top shoes. Plus the face of a fourteen year-old. Getting married in a week to Wilda who, for some reason, likes to try to tickle gringos, five minutes after meeting them, in a crowded bus terminal.
First Walter and I were to meet Wilda and Reynald and get a city tour, then go to Paul's house where his mother was cooking a dinner. I really like being shown around by locals, get the inside scoop, see the interesting things guidebooks miss, get off the tourist track, see the real Bolivia. So met Wilda and she showed us the MARKET, and the STREETS around town, and the GATES of the university, closed for the weekend. And we walked around some more with our local guide. She called a JUICE vendor over, four juices, papaya, limon, and coconut. Um, then we walked to where we were meeting Paul. Oh yeah, we stopped at a RESTAURANT for snacks. Paid $0.60 for sweet meat pies called salte?as. For breakfast Walter and I had paid $0.25 for the same things.
We walked with Paul to his house through an affluent neighborhood. It could have been some places in the US, maybe a middle-class Mexican neighborhood in the Southwest. Led into his place through the fence, no front door I guess. Said Buenas tardes to an old Indian man and woman washing clothes in a basin in the yard. Didn't see the house or anything. Paul kind of apologized for his room being messy. Immediately into the garage where a table was set for five. Then Paul brought in the food, spaghetti bolognese. It was really good. Reminded me of Easter in Bolivia.
After lunch Paul had to do some things for a high school party he was going to that night. So thanked him and said goodbye. Never met any members of the household. Found out that the old woman washing clothes was his mother. Though maybe not. Things are complicated
I was ready to rest, maybe email, but Wilda invited us three gringos to come back to her house to watch a video. She lived in an entirely different section of town. The way to her barrio reminded me of India: mud houses, shops, colorful markets, traditional clothes.
We ended up watching two videos and having dinner and being invited to stay with the family. So I will tonight. Could be interesting.
Happy Easter,
P.S. Wilda's mother was saying something about a general strike in Bolivia, similar to one that happened last year that shut down everything for a month. No banks, no buses, food shortages. I don't really buy it. I think she's overly concerned or just trying to scare us.
From: Eric Vance Dear Mom and Dad,
Tonight I am taking a bus to Sucre. For the past two days I was staying with the Bolivian family of Wilda, the fiancee of a traveler's friend. Two days is enough. I'm not sure if it's neccessary to immerse oneself in a culture to understand it. Or even if understanding another culture should be a goal. It's certainly not mine. I just like to see stuff and learn new things. Even now, after traveling on five continents, first thing I do in a new place is ask if they got any good museums.
The normal house of a normal Bolivian family is kind of like a museum. In it you would find a TV, VCR, stereo, bare pastel green walls, chickens in the yard, two bedrooms for five people. Running water only in the bathroom and the tap outside. Blender, refridgerator, puppy buried two days ago, died of starvation. Chess set, lots of Coke glasses, bare concrete floors, no hot water. Bookshelf filled with stuffed animals. Photo album, truck parked in the yard not going anywhere for lack of gasoline.
The first night I was there I had a conversation with the mother, Dominga, speaks Aymara, Quecha (language of the Incas), and Espa?ol. "So how do you like Bolivia?" "I like it. It's very pretty, but I have only been here one day." "What do you like about Bolivia?" "Oh, I really like the mountains." "Is Bolivia like the US?" "Um, they are very different. The US is much bigger." "Are there campesinos in your country?" "Well, not very many. Most people live in the cities, but there are lots of farms." "Which do you like better, Bolivia or the United States?"
For Good Friday we didn't do anything special. For Easter we (I was with two other travelers, plus the family, three kids, 22, 20, 15) got up early and went to church. Except, it was unlike any service I have seen before.
It was in a sports arena (This week's lecture about Jesus brought to you by Reebok and Coca-Cola, Always Coca-Cola). About 3000-4000 smartly dressed Bolivian indians and mestizos waved signs and cheered for Jesus. "Christo!" There was a marching band, a flag team, and cheerleaders. "We're number 1 in Jesus." At least they looked to me like cheerleaders, short skirts, white blouse, but what I had mistaken for pom-poms were actually the collection bags. "We love Christ!" For some of the songs a full orchestra, like with a bass and cello, accompanied the chorus. "Jesus--not a religion, a way of life." The mini soccer goals in the middle of the arena were still up. "Bolivia is with Christ!" My favorite part of it all was when one section tried to start the wave. "Jesus died for our sins" That was after the preacher riled up the crowd with a crescendoing, "...who do we love? Christo! ...who's our savior? CHRISTO ...and what's the only way to get into heaven? CHRISTO!!!!!"
After the service I ate breakfast at one of the vendors all selling the same thing, api (a hot sweet corn drink) and pastel (deep fried pastry puff, inside with cheese, and with sprinkled powdered sugar) with the family and some more aunts and cousins. Then we went shopping in the market, climbed the hill with the "World's largest image" a crude statue of Christ, watched some more videos, ate dinner of soup (with dried llama meat) and rice with canned sardines and veggies, and went to a sauna.
With love,
From: Eric Vance Dear Mom and Dad,
Email in Bolivia is so slow. It's like the olden days with a 1200 bps modem. But it's cheap, so that's the last you'll hear me complain.
I was going to write something yesterday, but I didn't. I like it if I can write something everyday because it gives the impression that I am traveling lightning quick and doing something interesting all the time. I want to give that impression because it's true. I am. Heck, I'll do it. I will write two letters.
I got an overnight bus from Cochabamba to Sucre. I guess we went through the Andes or something. I didn't see anything. It was my 15th overnight (plus 4 on Amazon boats) on this trip. I took a nap at my hotel, then got up, but everyone else was sleeping. I wanted to go to the tourist info office or to some museums, but their siesta lasted forever.
I finally got some info. I asked the tourist lady what was interesting in Sucre. She said only the Textile museum and the dinosaurs.
The Indigenous textile museum was interesting. I spent all afternoon there. But it wasn't so interesting that I learned something new, something important, something that can improve the quality of my life, something that I can remember and think, 'Oh yeah, that's really cool.' I was going to the dinosaur footprint site the next day, in the morning, and planning to take a bus to Potosi. Sucre is a nice small city, but not interesting enough to hold me unneccesarily.
I was sitting on a bench in the main square when some local youths came up to me. Some girls sat by me, then the really cool guy asked for a sip of what I was drinking (water). He even said, "Thank you." I replied, "De nada." Then he said, "You're welcome." Boy, I was impressed. I never thought I might meet such a cool character.
I asked, "Do you speak English?" He didn't quite know how to reply, so he sat down right next to me and only spoke Spanish the rest of the time. He asked how was Sucre? Instead of saying the usual, "Oh yeah, I really like it," I told him I wasn't impressed. He was shocked, what on earth did I mean? I said that there wasn't much interesting here. He still couldn't belive it. So I asked him what there was interesting here.
"The history. The oldness. The architecture. Just look (pointing to an old building)." I told him I didn't think buildings or oldness by themselves were interesting. "But the oldness? There are many things to discover in Sucre." "Like what?" "Well, like the buildings. The history. The statues. The weather. The weather is very nice here."
So we had a discussion, in spanish, about how statues or buildings without historical context are uninteresting for me. And the weather? Well, whatever.
Then a new girl came up. Evidently she spoke English, so Sergio, the cool guy, gave way. And once Pamela, the english speaker, started talking, everyone else left.
After a few false starts (talking about Venezuela, S. American geography) we got to the conversation. She asked, "So, tell me about your country?"
Aggh. I hate that. But then I realized the question is legitimate. It's not the fault of the asker not to know about the United States. It's my fault for not knowing what to say. Last night I had one of those, 'I had to travel away from home to learn about my own country.' I didn't know what to say, so I had to think about it. What is the USA? What does it mean? All I could say was that it was very big and had a lot of technology. Since I was floundering, I asked her to tell me about Bolivia.
If I were a reporter or interested in writing an article on Bolivian culture...I'm not. Here's what she said:
There's a lot of education in Bolivia, but not much technology. There aren't very many opportunities for professionals, not many jobs. There is a lot of culture in Bolivia, though it is concentrated int the towns. To know Bolivia you have to go to the towns. The Indigenas in the cities are usually just beggars. The government doesn't pay attention to the people. They don't care that people dye of hunger. They don't do anything. Bolivians just care about money. In Bolivia, "The money is the law." Bolivia won't develop or grow because people only care about themselves and the money. When others die, most people don't care.
But there are beautiful places in Bolivia. You can breathe the air. She didn't think that in America you could breathe the air, too much pollution. Bolivian culture is very important. Easter has lots of parades, the passion of Christ. And she wanted to know if people in America believed in love. Here she thinks women believe in it more than men.
So I told her that America had lots of jobs and opportunity. It's definitely true for middle class white people, but still generally true for everybody. In America, you can be whatever you want to be.
Then she told me some places to visit in Sucre. They actually sounded interesting. So I decided to stay an extra day.
Eric Vance
From: Eric Vance Dear Mom and Dad,
This morning I went to the place recommended to me last night by the Bolivan girl I met just sitting on a plaza bench. It was the House of Liberty, the place Bolivia signed its declaration of independence from Spain in 1825. The first room was an exhibit all in Spanish about the war in 1879 in which they lost their coastline to Chile. Bolivia used to be big, but they've lost every war they've ever fought. Neighboring countries start wars, win them, and take parts of Bolivia, a country still sore about it all.
I didn't want to waste my time looking at rooms with old furniture and no explanations, or short explanations only in spanish, so I asked for a guide, and one was provided for me. She spoke English and told me some stuff and showed me things, mostly portraits of leaders. I learned a few things, but mostly I learned that I don't know anything about S. American history. Do you? Why do the countries here keep having military coups and dictators and lots of poor people and repression? It doesn't have to be that way.
[Get to the dinosaurs]
After that museum I went into another old building. Then I visited the cathedral. It is really old. Not very interesting.
Then I hopped on a truck for a visit to the cement factory. Have you ever visited a cement factory? Especially one in S. America? Me neither, and I don't figure they'd be very interesting, except that this one, 7 km from Sucre, had dinosaur footprints!
Seven years ago the company stopped mining the limestone because its quality in that area declined. Then the rainy season came and eroded some more of the hill and uncovered the footprints. The place used to be a lake 68 million years ago, a lake with mud. Tracks formed, got covered up by dirt, more tracks, at least 20 levels and 5000 tracks total. Every day the wall erodes, losing the prints of four different types of dinosaurs, but also uncovering new ones.
Everywhere along the upturned old lake bed tracks can be seen. At one place I could see the tracks of two herbivorous Titanosaurs (like brontosaurs) walking next to each other. Then a small carnivore (the Carnotauro) ran across their path and the titanosaurs turned sideways, to let the other dinosaur pass. And then they continued along their way, not afraid of the much smaller meat eater. 68 million years ago three dinosaurs crossed paths and the evidence remains today (but not for long since that layer will erode soon and the company still digs for cement materials).
Also really cool were the stromatolites. Remember them? I saw them first in West coast Australia. They are like structures built over the years in only the perfect conditions by cyanobacteria, blue-green algae, the oldest life on earth. These were dead stromatolites, just the structures without the top layer of life. But still cool.
Okay, that's it,
From: Eric Vance Dear Mom and Dad,
Yesterday I went to the Casa de la Moneda, the old Mint museum, in Potosi. The guide was good and the artifacts left in the mint were too. Potosi was once the richest city in the Americas.
Oh yeah! Potosi, Bolivia is the highest city in the world! There are some higher villages somewhere of course, but right now I'm in a city (old but interesting) at 4070m, 13300 ft for those of you counting at home.
So today I went on a tour of a mine in the Cerro Rico. It's the same big hill overlooking Potosi that the Spaniards mined for 270 years, using forced Indian labor (as payment for being Spanish subjects, each Indian had to work in the mines for 4 months each 4 years) and provided the silver that sustained Spain (and pirates) for a couple centuries. About 120 mines exist within the hill, and about 60 of them are being worked today. The private mines pay a good salary, have good working conditions, and use lots of machines to extract the silver, zinc, lead ore.
The other mines are the cooperatives. The miners get paid by how much they dig out. I visited one of those mines today.
We were underground for four hours. My group was seven tourists plus the guide plus his assistant. It was the best underground experience I've ever had.
One reason to travel is to do things you wouldn't be able to do in your home country. Never, ever, in the United States would tourists be allowed to walk through a mine alongside the working miners. We went where the miners went. Crawled through the same spaces, climbed the same broken ladders, boosted ourselves up the same slippery rocks. I asked, "What's that smell?" "Arsenic," said the guide. We had the same hardhats with battery headlamp, and the same rubber boots as the miners.
First drove up the hill, got our gear, then visited the miner's market where we bought coca leaves and the ash catalyst, cigarettes for the miners, and some dynamite, blasting cap, ammonium nitrate, and what's that thing called, that you light, not the wick--the fuse. Then into the mine. We had to jump out of the way a couple times in the main entry tunnel to avoid the trolley cars loaded with ore on the tracks. To have a mining experience you don't have to go to Disneyland, or watch The Temple of Doom, just go to Potosi.
To help cope with the altitude (the mine was at 14,000 ft) and lack of oxygen in the mine, the miners chew coca leaves. So I did too. It's kind of cool to imitate the miners with a cheekful of the cocaine plant. The miners chew it so they won't feel hunger in the mines, and to give them extra energy. Below the fourth level of the mine, there aren't tracks for the trolley, so the ore must be wheelbarrowed to the winch spots. I barrowed one load a short distance. The hardest part was having to push it while bent over to avoid the rock overhead. Anyway, after just a short bit I was really winded, and I don't know if the coca leaves helped.
Can anybody help me out? What's the longest word in the English language. I think its like 70 or 100 letters long. Something like, pneumansilicocanovolcanoconiosis. It's a miner's lung disease. Most of them, if they've worked since they were 15 as usual, die when they are 40-45 from this disease. They all get it and all die. But the work in the mines pays about $160 a month, much better than $92 for the police officers and $45 for a guy working in a restaurant. And there is a chance that they'll find a vein of silver and maybe get $1000 a month. It happens. Maybe that's their hope. Otherwise I can't understand pushing wheelbarrows of rocks for pennies, everyday breathing silica, at 14000 ft, plus the risk of cave-ins, the mines' biggest killers.
Fortunately nothing but small rocks tumbled on top of me while I was in the mine. "Don't look up," said the guide. Of course everyone did. "No, really. It is acidic water dropping down." I didn't slip into a mine shaft. And the asbestos didn't immediately kill any of our group. I was thinking maybe I would go back tomorrow, on another tour, just because it was so cool to be there. But now I think my four hour experience was enough. I'm going to Uyuni tomorow, to take a 4WD tour of the Salar de Uyuni, the world's largest salt flats). There's a bird that lives in these salt lakes, in the Andes, at over 4000 m. I'll tell you about them later.
The ending: How could I have forgotten about it? The guide put a stick of dynamite together, more compact, with the bag of ammonium nitrate, the blasting cap, and the fuse. Lit it. All the guys in the group wanted a photo with the burning fuse, holding the dynamite. Then he ran down the hill, put it under a rock, ran back up. BA-BOOM!!!OOMOOOMOOOOM!! I can't believe he did it. I was expecting something small, not at all. Now I see the appeal of explosions. It was awesome. Big flash, scary boom, and echos,echos, echos. A great way to end the tour.
Later,
From: Eric Vance Dear Mom and Dad,
I am in La Paz, Bolivia, the highest capital in the world. They say the first glimpse of La Paz is breathtaking since it is a city in a bowl with mountains around. It was pretty cool today, but I think I missed the best views, a little foggy, on the night bus from Uyuni--possibly my most memorable bus ride. The whole back two thirds of the bus were gringos, other young western travelers. The road was worse than anything else, like a ride on Star Tours without the video in front. Since it was dark I could only imagine the cliffs to the side and all the damage the underside of the bus sustained. It was hardly a road, more like a mini mountain range with two-way traffic.
In Uyuni I went on a 4 day tour of the area, with three Americans, 1 Aussie, Kiwi, and Swiss, plus the driver and cook. I thought the trip was going to be super memorable. The pictures I had seen! The expectations I had! It was a nice trip, a worthwhile reason to come to Uyuni and good thing to do in Bolivia, but it wasn't a reason on its own to travel to Bolivia.
The first day we went out to some hotels built out of salt blocks in the giant salt bed of Uyuni. That would have been the highlight except that the lake was flooded. It actually had water in it. So the pictures of people standing on the blinding white salt with the brilliant blue background, no nothing else--like a fake movie set--not sure if the people are standing on clouds or not, won't come out for me. The entirely white landscape was ruined by 8 inches of water. Though it was still cool to see so much salt and all the mirages. The horizon seemed alive, a brighter blue band jumping up and down and changing width, or disappearing, or switching to green. Really strange.
The 2-4 days were spent driving around in the Bolivian outback. No trees, weird rocks, colored mountains, always bright blue sky, white lakes, greens lakes, and red lakes. And lakes with pink flamingoes. I never thought I'd see flamingoes in the 14,000 ft Andes mountains. Lots of shaggy llamas, many wild vicu?as (llama/gazelles/deer), and a rhea--a large flightless bird in the ratite family with ostriches, emus, cassowaries, and the kiwi bird.
Now in La Paz I have to decide what to do about the rumored/proposed strike and blocade next Tuesday. No information is very reliable or detailed. The happenings could range from mild protests to a campesino revolution. Probably the roads will be blocked, no traffic between the cities. So I don't know if I should go to Peru and skip some cool things in Bolivia, or risk getting stranded in the Amazon rainforest.
Later,
From: Eric Vance Dear Mom and Dad,
This strike/blocade thing is really something to think about here in La Paz. Last year all the roads between cities were blocked for six weeks. The government has said that they will not allow that to happen again, but already the road between Santa Cruz and Cochabamba is blocked. I want to bike down the mountain, then go on a jungle/pampas tour in Rurrenabaque, then back to La Paz, Tiahuanaco, Lake Titicaca, Cuzco Peru, Nazca, Lima, Miami--though I might go to Caral if I have good background info on it and if it sounds interesting. So please send me more info on it. But I won't be there until around May 23. I plan to fly from Lima to Miami around that time.
This pending strike means that skipping the mountain bike and jungle tour is an option. The safe thing to do is just go to Peru now. I can always come back to S. America. I think I have to, to see Argentina, Chile, Antarctica, Galapagos. But that's something to do when I have more money.
So the strike was making me think maybe I should just fly home now, for Granpa's wedding. But I don't think so. I'm not going to.
Yesterday I went to the Coca museum. It was a good museum by S. American standards, though still not so good. It was all about the coca leaf and cocaine. I learned that coca was used 4000 years ago and it has good nutritional value. And Freud was the first cocaine user. Coca Cola still uses the coca leaf for taste only. I wanted to get a tour of the San Pedro prison by an English speaking inmate, but it's illegal, and only happens Thursdays and Sundays.
Since Potosi I have been traveling with some people: Marte from Swiss; Susan from SF; Adam, Aus; Rowena, NZ; and Kyle and Kirk from Idaho. It is nice to do stuff with people and much more comfortable having friends on the bus and in the hotel, but it also means things are really slow. It's best to break up during the day and meet later rather than dragging seven people around La Paz trying to see stuff.
When I get back to the States I want to travel around Florida, Savannah, Baltimore for Gene's wedding, then three weeks across the US via DC, Cleveland, Chicago, Mt. Rushmore, and other places to Yosemite. Does Don Mitchell want me to drive his car back? That would be excellent for me. Otherwise I might try for transporting rental cars or whatever, or Greyhound, or hitchhiking.
I think I would also like to go on another hike or something involving dehydrated foods, maybe in August, maybe with Angela. But I also want to earn money, find a job, find a place to live. I'm writing this all now so I won't have to think about it later. I'll think about everything when I get back. No more planning--only going to think about Bolivia and Peru.
Thanks for saving my messages,
From: Eric Vance Dear Mom and Dad,
I went to Rurrenebaque to take a trip into the Amazon rainforest and the pampas, meaning swamps. Both trips were for three days, five nights total. Rather than write a letter about what happened I'll just make a list.
Eric's 10 Best South American Animals (wild of course):
1. Pirana
2. Pink Amazon river dolphins
3. Pink Andean flamingoes
4. Vicu?a
5. Rhea
6. Scarlet Macaw
7. Capybara
8. Sloth
9. 10. Don't know yet, got to leave room.
Honorable mention:
Also in the pampas were alligators/crocodiles/caimans (there is some confusion as to what really exists in S. America). In one stretch of the swamp, big six-foot ones were spaced every twenty feet. The guide would put our canoe right next to them, almost close enough to touch. And then the creatures would, in a flash, snap and disappear into the water, always startling.
The pampas had so, so many birds. Herons, vultures, hawks. I saw an owl in the day time. Malibu storks, turkeys, cormorants, so, so many, oh and small birds too. The guide wasn't so up on his ornithology though.
OK that's it,
From: Eric Vance Dear Mom and Dad,
I'm in an internet cafe in the jungle, in Rurrenebaque, Bolivia. Tomorrow I go on a six day, five night jungle/pampas adventure. The pampas is better for seeing animals like the anaconda, caiman alligators, capybara (S. American beaver pig), and river dolphins. I've seen most of the animals already, and I've been in the jungle before and down rivers in canoes. So I don't have many expectaions. On all my other jungle/safari trips I've had a list of minimal things required for happiness. And the list always gets satisfied. This time I'll have no list. So the trip should again be satisfactory.
Getting here was maybe an adventure. I've written a little about long bus journeys before, but only to convey how common they usually are. This time the bus was 29 hours, including 12 hours of waiting, bus not moving, or me not moving on the bus. First the bus was late for four hours (blown tire, engine failures), then we got stuck in the mud for an hour at 3 am when the driver fell asleep and went too close to the muddy edge, then we were idle for 7 hours in a small village while a part was sawed, welded, and hammered back into shape. The rest was the bumpy bumpy on the full bus with the stupid girl in front of me who kept jamming her seat into my knees--forgetting that the seat was broken and didn't stay reclined. So she'd recline with vengeance, bump my scraped up knee, and in ten seconds be back in the upright postition since the seat had no reclining catch.
What I wanted to write about was the mountain bike trip. From La Paz I went in a mini bus to the top of the pass. From there down to Coroico is "The most dangerous road in the world" (Interamerican Developmental Bank, 1995). I looked at the statistics. From January--August 1998 there were 490 accidents, 207 injuries, and 80 deaths. Jan--Aug 99 was better, only 125 injuries and 15 deaths. That was when they made the road one-way. Downhill in the mornings, uphill in the afternoons.
But the campesinos complained about the restrictions. So it's two-way again. Downhill traffic travels on the left cliff side. Uphill has right-of-way. I talked with a German who was on an uphill bus two weeks ago that clipped a downhill bus, sending it over the cliff. One of the surivor(s?) was a baby he saw being thrown out the window as the bus was falling. I read about it in the newspaper too.
So it's a really dangerous road, and the government is building a new one. But until it is completed, this one lane, dirt road, clinging to the cliff, several turnouts, with sleepy Bolivian drivers, who love to pass on blind corners, world's most dangerous road, is still in use. And the safest way down is by mountain bike--if your bike is good and you know how to ride.
Three weeks ago an Israeli girl went over the cliff. She didn't know how to ride.
One week ago a guy toppled onto the road and messed up his knee when his wheel came off after hitting a bump. His bike wasn't any good.
I'm sitting here with a bandana over my elbow to keep the jungle air and dirt off the bandage covering the section of skin I left behind at our lunch stop. And the wound on my hip, it's exposed and looks pretty nasty, but it's healing well. My knee? It would be fine already if not for that stupid girl on the bus. I had a good bike. I know how to ride. I just got a little cocky. It's still the most dangerous road in the world.
The first section is paved and steeply downhill. Pull over to the side for a view of Snow covered Andes, and deep valleys with llamas and stone fences. Don't brake on the curves. But don't brake on the straight downhill. The speed rush is the best part.
The company I went with had three guides and the mini bus following behind. They were a first class operation. (Gravity Assited Mountain Biking, run by a Kiwi and his American girlfriend.) The first guide down the mountain is called, "Truck Bait." Earlier this year one of the guides died, from a different company. Anyway, I had a lot of fun. And it was more dangerous than I thought it would be.
I crashed at the end of the paved part, at the police drug stop, in front of lots of children and old women attending little eateries and shops. I just waited too long to brake. When the guy in front of me came to a complete stop I squeezed the brakes a little too much, skidded, flew off the bike, did a flip, and slid on my back for fifteen feet. I'm not sure how it all happened. I hit my helmet, my elbow, my hip and my knee. I got patched up on the floor (after becoming pale and faint with shock) while the others ate lunch. It was perfect timing. After lunch got back on the bike for the dirt part. Really cool. Not much pain. Enjoyed the whole trip.
Later,
From: Eric Vance Dear Mom and Dad and Angela,
So how was the wedding? I'm really glad I didn't go back. It would have ruined my trip I think.
Today I went to the ruins of Tiahuanaco. I read about them in Fingerprints of the Gods. They might have been the first reason I wanted to some to S. America. They and Lake Titicaca and Macchu Pichu. But it has been over a year since I read the book, so I forgot a little about why they are so special. Nothing at all at the site itself reminded me. Uggh, sometimes traveling really sucks when things that could be really good, like Tiahuanco, are nothing. Bolivia is a stupid country. It's great for traveling despite its stupidity though. I mean, in every corner of the country there are interesting things to see and do and everyone knows about them. If you come to Bolivia you know exactly what you should do, and it's good. But not Tiahuanco.
The site is the worst preserved and worst labeled site of any ruins I have visited. The only info in English is a bilingual map of the Titicaca area with a little about the ruins. Fortunately, I splashed out the bucks for a guided tour. Unfortunately, the guide knew as much about the ruins as I could have after a half day's study. She not only didn't know much. She hardly spoke English. Whatever she said seemed memorized, like a singer can sing a song in another language without knowing any of it.
The biggest thing I learned is that archaeology (at least in S. America, I mean Bolivia) is in the Dark Ages. Many years ago people knew what everything was about. We have lost that knowledge. But we'll get it back I reckon. There are too many interesting questions unanswered and too many curious people (like me) for so little to be known for much longer. I think visiting the site today is like visiting a rocket museum in 1960. It's almost pointless. I think I will return in some years either to do my own investigations or to visit a properly excavated, restored, explained ancient kingdom site.
Tomorrow I am going to Lake Titicaca, then to Cuzco. Should all be very cool.
Eric Vance
From: Eric Vance Dear Mom and Dad,
Dad, thanks for the info on Sachsayhuaman (pronounced Sack-say- wah-man). I spent too long today in the Inca museum, so tomorrow I'll visit the ruins and check out the flabbergasting stone anomoly. Chariots of the Gods was an interesting book, but Fingerprints of the Gods by Graham Hancock is better. You can find it in the box I sent back from San Diego in October. It had my hiking boots in it as well.
Yesterday I got back from Machu Picchu. I don't have enough time to write about it now.
Before Cuzco I went to the Isla del Sol on Lake Titicaca. I wish I had those books with me, because there is seriously no information on ruins in Peru or Bolivia. You have to hire a guide. Even in the museum today, everything was in Spanish. That can be okay if it's well written or well organized because I can only read so much of that stuff. But today's museum had Spanish paragraphs that didn't say anything. It's sometimes discouraging. It's like, Okay, I'll read the damn Spanish. Five minutes later I'm no more enlightened about anything.
But the guides are worse. There was a guide who worked for tips only. Two others asked her to show them around, so I, Ben (from Portland), and Kyle (from Idaho) joined the group. When she said that a pre-Inca tribe domesticated the llama, alpaca, and the vicu?a we all raised our eyebrows. Vicu?as haven't been domesticated. Then at the next panel she said the picture of the big statue at Tiahuanaco was 8 metres high and of the earth goddess. Anyway, it was ten feet high and of a prince (we were told). The last straw was when she said the pottery of the Tiahuancans was evidence that they domesticated the puma.
Hopefully in ten days I will be back in the States.
On the ferry to the Isla del Sol Kyle and I met two girls from Berkeley. We hiked around with them for two days. Then I went to the Peruvian side to the floating islands. People live in the middle of the lake on islands made of reeds. The layer of reeds is one metre thick. The lake is 15 metres deep. It's weird. The houses are made of the reeds too. The ground is squishy. At the edges you get wet if you stand in one place too long. I soaked both feet trying to fish out a money bill from the edge of the island. It was probably a trick, old, valueless currency.
More tomorrow,
From: Eric Vance Dear Mom and Dad and Angela,
The hardest thing about eating guinea pig is cutting through the skin. It's really tough. It is chewable and tasty, but hard to get through with a knife. You end up grasping two legs and just ripping one of them off. The meat is good. What I had was well spiced. There was a major problem with the bill, but that was a little expected. Peruvians just don't think right. Maybe it's a language problem. It just seems that they, and Bolivians, are a little off. They try to cater to tourists, but they think differently, so it doesn't work.
I went to Sacsayhuaman today. The stones are really, really impressive. I want to be able to get them to talk. When rocks can talk we'll learn so much more of our past. Von Daniken was right on when about the vitrification of the rock. It was definitely not caused by glaciers. I have no idea what caused the hillside rock to look polished and wavy. Children use the rocks like slides. Anyway, its a mystery. And it's no use asking anyone at the site. They'll probably say it was a by product of domesticating pumas.
The thing he wrote about the 20,000 ton rock, sculpted then turned upside down was a little far-fetched. The rock was certainly big and no one could ever move it, ovbiously. But it didn't necessarily look turned upside down, and the top just looked eroded by acid rain or something. The steps and thrones and stuff were probably where they quarried stones.
I am thinking now of flying to New York before June 2 instead of Miami. Plans still in flux. Is there anything else written about the ruins of Caral? Whatever info on archaeological sites must necessarily come from outside the country.
Later,
From: Eric Vance Dear Mom and Dad,
Since I got back from Machu Picchu (I'll write about it sometime) last week, I've been traveling much more quickly. Well okay, it was pretty slow for three or four days in Cuzco. The guys I was traveling with, Kyle (Idaho) and Ben (Oregon), were pretty tired from the Inca Trail, so we didn't do much back in Cuzco. Two really cool ruins and an ordinary cathedral in four days, plus several nightclubs and discos.
I went to Nazca. Took a flight to see the lines. They are just like the pictures, pretty cool. Some thousands of years ago, some people decided to draw figures into the desert that could only be seen from the air. Did they draw them for their gods in heaven? For shamans who can supposedly spiritualistically fly after ingesting hallucinagenic plants? For aliens? For ice giants in airplanes? Some of the lines and trapezoids strech for miles, exactly straight. The figures of a monkey, dog, condor, hummingbird, spider, whale, tree, pelican, and spaceman (or owlman) are cool works of art. In Nazca you can hear the theories. The truth is that no one knows why, who, or when the lines were made.
Next stop along the Pacific coast of Peru was Huachachina, at an oasis amid giant sand dunes. The town is centered by a green lagoon ringed with date palms. Really tall sand dunes, as far as the eye can see (in one direction), circle the place. I spent a day sandboarding and jumping down the dunes and swimming in the lagoon. Then another day lounging at the hostel pool. I hadn't planned to stop there at all, but it was highly recommended and amazing it was.
Today from Pisco I went on a tour of the islands Ballestas, the poor man's Galapagos. Saw penguins, Peruvian boobys (with blue feet) (add both to my list of Top 10 S. American animals), shrimp, sea lions, and other birds. But maybe the coolest thing was the Candelabra, an etching of a three pronged candlestick or cactus plant, into a hill on the coast. The guide said that it never rains there. (It rains 20 minutes a year in Nazca). And the wind doesn't blow below 25 cm above the surface. So the figure isn't eroded by wind (something to do with the heat from the sand and a pressure difference) or rain. Nobody knows who built that either. What I want to know is: The reason the figures are there, in the place on Earth best suited for them, is because the drawers knew to choose those places from all over the world for their drawings, or they only still survive because they're located in the only places on earth where they could survive for so long?
The Nazca desert is one of the driest places on Earth. It too has a funky pressure differential that means there is zero wind on the surface. I read in a book that if anyone wanted to draw something into the ground and have it last a long time, and could choose any place on earth, they would choose Nazca. So did the drawers at Nazca know this beforehand, and chose the best place on Earth because they were smart; or were there similar drawings all over the world, but only the ones in Nazca and Pisco remain today? It's a mystery.
Now I am in Lima. I will probably fly from here to New York City in a week. I'm ditching my plan to go to Miami and travel up the east coast for two weeks. So I have one last week in Peru. It'll probably be in Huaraz, in the Andes. I love the desert (it looks like I imagine Egypt looks) but I've seen it and am ready for really cool mountains.
I haven't explained the mysteries well, but any theories would be welcome,
From: Eric Vance Dear Mom and Dad,
I bought my ticket today. I'm flying to Newark on June 1. I'll try to be back in Modesto a couple days before Yosemite. Hitchhiking out west from DC is still my plan, though I might look for a rental car drive back deal or something.
Today I walked around Lima (I'm still in Peru, since two weeks, after being in Bolivia one month). The museums are overpriced and wouldn't be informative, so I just bought my plane ticket and walked around. The best part were the wealthy suburbs near the coast. Large, quiet streets, well maintained yards, trendy upscale shops, nice cars, no honking, supermarkets. It was such a big difference from central Lima and most of S. America (outside of Rio).
Last week I got back from Machu Picchu. If I don't write about it now, I never will. And since my journal is full and Bolivian or Peruvian replacements are inadequate, if I don't write this email nothing of my trip will be written.
Most tourists coming to Cuzco, if they do the Inca Trail, do it in four days with a tour company. The porters carry all but personal gear, meals are under tents and ready when you arrive to camp, guides tell personal lies about the ruins, you meet lots of other tourists. And the tours are cheap. But I didn't want to do a tour. Tours suck. So Kyle (Idaho) and Ben (Oregon) and I rented a tent and bought some food and did it on our own, over three days instead of four.
Day 1:
Day 2: First pass was 4200 m. I had no difficulty hiking it. I think chewing coca leaves helped. I had a big chaw of leaves and charcoal activator in my cheek. They say the coca (where cocaine comes from) gives you energy, helps with altitude, decreases hunger and thirst. No wait, the coca didn't help. It was too early in the morning. The pass was pretty tough. The day before I was running up the hill then waiting for Kyle and Ben. That day the coca helped. Maybe carrying ALL the food and the TENT for the second day (and third) counteracted the benefits of the coca.
It snowed a little on the pass, but that was the last weather we had. Sunny or partly cloudy from there on out. The mountains were very pretty. Saw several ruins on the trail along the way. Two more passes that day, not difficult. One ruin had a wall of perfectly cut stone. They were cut sort of zig-zag, jigsaw, and placed together perfectly without mortar. The wall across from it looked like any ordinary peasant stone wall. Give me the rocks and the mortar and time and I could build it.
Made it to Wi?aywayna campground and hostel in the afternoon. That's where all the groups stay their third night. I didn't want to sleep in the tent again, so bunked in the hostel. I even had a shower. Hardly trekking.
Day 3: Up at 4:15 am. On the trail at 4:45 to the sun gate (none of our flashlights worked, don't buy cheap batteries in the future) at 5:45 to see Machu Picchu at sunrise. I had heard that no one sees the sun actually rise there. It's more like people watch the mist rise, revealing the ruins. But the day was clear. The sun wasn't up, but Machu Picchu was visible.
Watched the sun hit the ruins an hour later with lots of other tourists. Nothing magical so far. Then explored the ruins.
They're pretty cool. In fact, they were impressive.
Hiked up to Huanay P?cchu. It's the mountain in the background of all the photos. Good views down.
Then way down the mountain to the temple of the moon, through the tropical rainforest. It was a really impressive, perfect stone cut temple under a rock overhang-cave.
More around the ruins. Listened in on some guided tours. They don't really tell you much.
Skipped the bus and hiked down the mountain to the city. 19 km total that day, 32 km the previous two days.
What I learned: Machu Picchu is spelled with one c, then two c's.
What I found interesting: Some of the ruins are built with stones cut absolutely perfectly, and placed together like a puzzle, as if the builders were showing off. And some of the ruins are just rocks on top of each other, with some cement, as if the builders didn't know any better. The explanation is that only the important buildings were done in the perfect style. But why did some buildings have perfect walls except for like the topmost three feet? It seemed like it was built at two different times by two different peoples with different technology. Or maybe it was just rebuilt later (there are earthquakes) really quickly. I don't know. Nobody knows.
Maybe I'll think of more Machu Picchu impressions later,
From: Eric Vance Dear Mom and Dad,
I'm in Trujillo, in Northern Peru. Like the rest of lowland Peru, taxis honk at everything that moves on the sidewalk. I've seen them honk at stray, hairless dogs, not to make them move out of the way, or to warn them that a car is coming, but to ask if they want a ride. It doesn't matter if it's a piece of litter blowing down the street in the opposite direction of the taxi. If it moves, the taxi driver will honk at it.
I was in the cathedral this afternoon (to escape the shoe shine boys and the young men "trying to practice their English"), quietly reflecting on the day's events, keyboard organ music softly in the background, punctuated by HONK, BEEP-BEEP, WANK, WANK, DEEP, BIP, HONK.
After my day in Lima I took a night bus to Huaraz. It's in between the Cordillera Blanca and the Cordillera Negra. So from the town, can see on one side twelve snowcapped peaks, and the other just black hills. It's a nice spot to chill for a few days before flying back to home country.
I went for a short trek, two days, up a valley, to just below two lakes, just below two glaciers, just below two massive Andean peaks. Very picturesque. The coolest thing was the icebergs floating in one of the lakes. Maybe I've seen icebergs before, but not from so close.
On the hike back to Huaraz (maybe 25 miles all-inclusive) I thought that my plan to spend the next day Wednesday in Huaraz, reading, sleeping, eating sweets made with dulce de leche (carmel) was pretty lame. I have to be back in Lima Thursday to pick up my ticket for flying Friday. So today, Wednesday, was like an extra day in S. America. I decided to take the night bus from Huaraz to Trujillo.
I've never been in the north coast of Peru. Seemed like a good idea. Kind of a split decision, a little risky since I don't have any S. American guidebooks. Could be good, could be bad.
Was good. I arrived too early in the morning. Shared a taxi to a hotel, slept for three hours. Still morning, wandered around until I found a bus company to Lima, bought ticket. Then went to the ruins.
The pyramids of the moon and sun in Moche, was an excellent ruins. The two pyramids are just mud bricks (adobe) with some decoration and paintings. A free guide was included, and he actually knew something, so I actually learned something.
I returned to the city and got another colective bus to more ruins, Chan Chan. The world's largest mud brick city. It was pretty cool too.
Very brief history lesson:
Later,
From: Eric Vance Dear Mom and Dad and Angela,
My plan was to have a relaxing day in Lima. A full day to pick up my plane ticket, finish my book (about mountain climbers in Peru, "Touching the Void"), and do some email. Plus eat some mil hojas (like the French mille foile, layers of flaky pastry with dulce de leche [like carmel] between some of the layers) and conitos (pastry cones filled with dulce de leche) and churros filled with dulce de leche and the two coconut cookies (with dulce de leche in between) , and ceviche (pickled raw fish and seafood) and anticuchos (beef hearts BBQ'd on a skewer).
I arrived early in Lima. I went to a hotel and slept through the morning. Then I realized I had left my green plain Pendleton shirt (maybe you'd recognize it from the photos) on the bus. So I walked way into the bad part of the city, didn't find it. To console myself I bought a mil hojas and conito, then had ceviche across the street from the bus.
That shirt was my cold weather clothing! I left my thermal top tied around the waist of a Peruvian girl in Cuzco. Thank goodness it's summer in the US.
I'm not worried about being cold. I'm just upset at losing the shirt. Just a few days ago, my long sleeve pale blue shirt (again in half my photos being my jungle/trekking/multi-purpose shirt) slipped off my waist while coming down from one of the glacier lakes near Huaraz. I discovered it missing back at camp, so hiked two hours (uphill, at 13000 ft elevation) and found it.
Why am I suddenly losing stuff? It could be coincidence, or the effects of two straight night buses, or theiving Peruvians. I think it's because I don't want to leave S. America. Subconsciously I am leaving stuff behind, like leaving a part of me in S. America; so I have to come back to collect what I left behind. I mean, it was the last bus I'll take in Latin America! Why did I forget my shirt just now, and not on one of the other 70 buses I took?
I went back to my hotel, read my book and ate my sweets. Emailing tonight I found out that my ride and place to stay Friday night has changed plans. Gene said I could probably stay with another friend, so I will arrive in Newark and try to contact him and hopefully find a place to stay (he'll be in DC). I think I'll find a place, so I don't need to stay at the Day's Inn. I'm reluctant to ask to be comped there. Last time after Bruce's wedding it was weird, like they didn't want us to be there or to give us a room. I'm going to take my chances being able to contact Gene and being hooked up with one of his friends.
My flight leaves at 8:15 am. Continental airlines asks its passengers to arrive THREE hours before. At 5:15 am! What the hell are they thinking?
Lima sucks. It's museums are overpriced and spread around the city. Usually when other travelers don't like a big city, I do. Some people avoid cities. I like them. But not Lima. And it's not the weather (overcast foggy every day for eight months, hot and smoggy for the other four). It's the lack of transportation. Eight million people and their transport system sucks. It's non-existent. There are thousands of buses, but who know's where they're going? Every non-nice car is a taxi, but they overcharge and I hate taxi drivers. Some are nice, but as a whole they rank just above grave robbers. So basically, Lima is not traveler-friendly. Since so many cities are, I have no patience with the ones that aren't.
But at least internet places are plentiful,
From: Eric Vance Dear Mom and Dad,
I actually arrived at the Lima airport the full three hours in advance. Two
hours of postcard writing later, people were still checking in on my flight.
I could have slept more and written fewer postcards and probably wouldn't
be as tired as I am now. Travel doesn't make me tired. I never really
understood that, why people on a bus all day would arrive at their
destination tired. What did they do? Day travel is relaxing for me. Sleep
deprivation makes me tired.
I'm staying with a friend of Gene's at the NYU Med Center complex. We went
out to Morrocan food tonight with two German med exchange students.
Tomorrow I will go to Atlantic City with four of Gene's friends for his
bachelor party. The next day I plan to get a lift to Baltimore to visit
Bruce.
My original plan coming back to the States was to fly into Miami, then up to
DC for the wedding, then Cleveland to visit the Mayers, Chicago to visit
Ella and two friends from San Diego, Mt. Rushmore and whatever else is in
that area on the way to Portland. But now I learn that the Mayers might not
be at home when I want to swing by, and Ella will be in New York. I'm
thinking of just flying to LA, especially since I already have a ticket good
until June 17. My Lima-Newark ticket is actually Lima-Newark-Los Angeles.
No wonder it was so expensive.
So maybe I'll come back to California mid-June and test the new car out.
Arriving back in America has seemed no different than arriving in Venezuela.
New York is so different than California that it is like another country.
So after Bolivia, Peru the next country to visit is one called America.
Damn it's expensive. But it's really interesting. New York City has so
many people. It's cool. And it's so diverse. Gene's friend Simon asked
tonight if I had a preference for Indian, Thai, or Morrocan.
I'm kind of sad to have left S. America. But it's okay. I've seen most of
what I wanted to see. I've left Argentina, Chile, and Antarctica for
another trip. And Easter Island and the Galapagos. I can do that when I'm
old.
Later,
PS Could you send me Bruce's address and phone number please?
From: Eric Vance Dear Mom and Dad and Friends and Family,
Two weeks ago I flew from Lima, Peru into New York. My first impressions of the United States? ÎNew York is not the US. It's New York. It's like another city on my travels. But more people speak English. And it's pretty cool, all these people and buildings; and the traffic's not too bad.'
Now I'm back in Modesto, California. Impressions? ÎI'm boiling in here. Why doesn't someone turn on the air conditioning? Oh yeah, Energy Crisis.'
Returning to the United States has been unremarkable. California is much different than the East Coast. Greyhound is the worst bus company in the world.
The reason I ended my journeys in C. and S. America was to take part in my friend Gene's bachelor party, and then his wedding a week later.
So I flew into New York and next day went to Atlantic City with Gene and some of his friends from med school. A.C. isn't Vegas, but the streets really do have Monopoly names. That was cool. Our hotel was at Park Place and the Boardwalk. I didn't see Marvin Gardens, but I did notice signs for Indiana, Tennessee, and Baltic Avenue.
After that I went to Baltimore to visit my cousin Bruce and his wife Lisa. Highlight was touring Fort McHenry, over which flew The Star Spangled Banner on the morning of September 14, inspiring Francis Scott Key to write the poem which would become the national anthem.
The fort, of course, was just another stupid building. There are very few interesting buildings in the world. The Taj Mahal in India is one. The Sydney Opera House is another. In all of Latin America, only a few pre-Columbus ruins in Mexico, Guatemala, and Peru were interesting buildings. OK, wait. I saw a couple churches that were interesting. And some houses or whatever too. Everything is interesting to a degree. Even the dullest building in the world is a little interesting because, Wow, look how dull it is!
But fortunately Fort McHenry is in America. It's a building that doesn't have to be interesting because what is inside is interesting. There were interesting displays of stuff regarding the War of 1812. And there were people in the fort's buildings interested enough in the history of the building to share it with others. The fort was staffed with volunteers who wanted to edify visitors. These people cared enough about their community and its history to share it with me so that I went home having learned something. And that's all I really want to do when I travel. I just want to learn stuff. Sometimes actively (like going to a museum or ruins) or passively by watching people at the bus station or at the corner food stall.
What I knew before: The War of 1812 was between Britain and the US, about, like, trade and stuff. The US won the war, culminating in Andrew Jackson's defeat of the British troops in New Orleans in 1815.
If you're an expert on the War of 1812 (or don't care), skip the next 365 words: Britain was fighting France. The US was neutral and traded with both sides. Britain intercepted US merchant ships bound for France. France intercepted US merchant ships sailing for Britain. In addition, Britain impressed [like kidnapped] American sailors into their navy (must be another side to this story). So the US declared war on Britain in 1812.
But nothing happened for two years because the US was weak and Britain had her hands full with Napolean. But then Napolean abdictated for the first time and Britain could turn its attention to the States. They did. They marched into Washinton, DC and burned down the White House. Then they went to Baltimore to try to capture some of the goods crammed in all the full warehouses (Britain's strong navy had blockaded many American ports). Baltimore wasn't any main objective. The British troops just had to wait a few months for winter so they could kick some ass in steamy New Orleans.
So the British fleet came to Baltimore and attacked Fort McHenry, but they couldn't pass into the harbor because of intentionally sunken boats blocking the entrance. So they had to bomb the fort. And they did, with 200-pound canon balls and some new hi-tech rockets that didn't work very well. But the Americans bombed back, firing 45-pound red-hot balls that skipped on the surface of the calm harbor waters. But they didn't fire very many of those fire-starting, skipping balls because their range was 1.5 miles and the Brits had a 2 mile range with their artillery.
Francis Scott Key (a lawyer), on a boat in the harbor with an American POW whose release he had just secured, saw the giant flag still waving over Fort McHenry in the morning, and got inspired.
The Brits retreated, got defeated in January in New Orleans, and signed a treaty ending the war. So their plan to beat up on the US in order to force them to stop their westward expansion so that the British-Canadian fur traders could catch more beavers in the West failed. The fort guides said that the real losers of the War of 1812 were the Indians because America continued expanding west into Indian lands.
From Baltimore I went to Washington DC for my friend Gene's wedding. The wedding was fun and my best man's speech was well-received.
Then I visited another cousin, Jenny, in Lancaster, PA for a couple days. Then I went back to New York and saw a few things and met with some friends and had a good time.
And then flying to LA to go to Marty's (foster sister) college graduation and then to Modesto. I'm going to visit a friend in Portland, OR, then go to Yosemite for a week with my family. Then·I don't know.
Any suggestions?
PS I need to earn money. I like statistics and traveling and backpacking, but what I really want to do is to scientifically research psychic phenomena. Although working to figure out who really built the Egyptian pyramids, and when, and how, would be pretty cool. And maybe I want to write some books on my travels too.
PPS At Fort McHenry I asked lots of questions and got good answers because the volunteers were smart. One guide told me that during Britain's war with France, lots of British navymen deserted, finding work on American merchant ships. Britain couldn't have men deserting, so they boarded American ships and took back the deserters plus around 10,000 bona fide Americans. I knew there was a more balanced viewpoint about impressing American sailors.
© Copyright 2000-2008 Eric Vance. All rights
reserved.
To:
Date: Sunday, November 12, 2000 3:43 PM
Subject: A new theory
I think we all have the power to choose the world we want to live in. In quantum mechanics there is the "Many worlds hypothesis". Say you flip a coin, the MWH says that in one world, the coin will land heads, and in another it will land tails (this is my own explanation, it's not really as simple as this and it involves atomic particles instead of coins). For every random event, the universe splits into many universes, each one has a different outcome for the event. So if you roll a die, at that moment the universe splits into six, one for each possible outcome of the die. My theory is that people can choose which universe they want to be in.
Eric Vance
To:
Date: Monday, November 13, 2000 6:10 PM
Subject: Unofficial chicas
Beautiful 1
Blue eyes, dark-blonde hair
Eric Vance
To:
Date: Monday, November 13, 2000 5:48 PM
Subject: Palenque the town
Eric Vance
To:
Date: Wednesday, November 15, 2000 8:52 PM
Subject: Palenque, the ruins
Eric Vance
Lost emails found!
While in Xela (Quetzaltenango), Guatemala where I studied Spanish for
three weeks, I wrote these next four emails. My hotmail account
wasn't working so I saved these emails to send later. In April I sent
all the emails I had written while in C. and S. America to my father
for safe-keeping as my hotmail account was overfull. Unfortunately he
erased all of them. The emails appearing here are the ones my parents
did keep. If you're reading this and have good emails that I sent while in C. and S. America please send them to me so I can include them, like the ones from Xela I'm including now.
Cute 2, USA
5'6"<">, medium everything
We talked about how it was a movie day. Actually 12. Paty (the girl who lives with me) mentioned it first. We couldn't see much from the top of the volcano since it was so cloudy. We had gotten up so early 4:30 am, and walked so much (it was five hours (usually 7) of tough hiking at high altitude) that we just wanted to chill. Watching a movie on a cloudy, drizzly day sounded cool to me. Maybe it sounded good to Nadia too, but I just think she wanted to spend more time with me. I didn't find her all that attractive, so the reciprocal thing (where she thinks I'm cute too) didn't apply, but anyway.
This email is kind of all over the place. The points I am trying to make are:
It is good to make the effort to meet new people even if you already have friends, because people leave and if you don't meet the new people you might find yourself alone and out of the new cliques. Also, it's good to meet everybody you can because you might run into them later, then it's cool to know their names already if you see them in Honduras or something. Plus, if you are staying in a place for a while, they might be too and you might see them everyday, but if you didn't meet them when you or they were new, it gets awkward to say, "I've seen you everyday for the past two weeks, but I've never met you."
Eric Vance
Chicago, pretty 1
medium height, slim, young
This morning I went to Momostenango for their Sunday market. It's only an hour from Xela by the fast bus, but I got on the wrong ones, had to transfer, took the dirt road over the mountain instead of the highway. The two hours there sucked. But the market sucked worse. I hate markets. I've seen them all. I don't need to walk around looking at colorfully dressed indigenous women selling vegetables. Momos is famous for its woollen products, but I didn't see much, mostly fruit and veggies and some bread and maybe kitchen utensils. I guess I saw a couple wool blankets being sold.
"Do I know you?"
"We met yesterday."
"Oh, the guy from the volcano." One of her volcano girlfriends was there too. "I'm sorry, I didn't recognize you."
I was wearing my ugly bandanna, to protect my head from the sun. Anyway, we talked. I found out her name, Gina. She was waiting for the express bus back to Xela. I was going to walk around some more, but I thought maybe I should just leave with them. Anyway, I went back to the market to buy a piece of bread. When I came back the bus was just about to leave so I got on.
Eric Vance
Date: 1/15/01 8:35:45 PM Pacific Standard Time
Eric Vance
To: nmvance@aol.com, donvance@inreach.com
Subject: Scuba diving in Honduras
Date: Sat, 27 Jan 2001 14:25:54 -0800
Eric Vance
To: Erics Relatives
Date: Monday, February 12, 2001 4:56 PM
Subject: Eric in Costa Rica--Feb. 11, 2001
Eric Vance
To: Erics Relatives
Subject: Eric/Rainforest 2/13/01
Eric Vance
To: Erics Relatives
Date: Thursday, February 15, 2001 3:09 PM
Subject: Leaving Costa Rica
Feb 23 Either in Ecuador, Colombia, or Venezuela, figure out a way to get to Brazil.
March 18 Meet Rebecca in Recife, Brazil
March 30 Be in Rio.
April travel to and around Bolivia
May travel around Peru
June fly to the east coast for Gene's wedding June 9.
Hitchhike or take Greyhound back to Yosemit via Cleveland and Chicago and probably Denver.
July Start working at a job, any job somewhere I can live cheaply. I would like to have something lined up for when I get back just to avoid the nomadic situation I had two years ago. Do you have any suggestions?
Eric Vance
To: Erics Relatives
Date: Friday, February 16, 2001 10:07 AM
Subject: Eric, Monteverde, Feb. 12 (out of sequence)
To: Erics Relatives,
Date: Tuesday, February 20, 2001 9:36 AM
Subject: Eric: a man, a plan, and a canal: Panama Parts 1, 2, & 3
Eric Vance
Eric Vance
Eric Vance
To:
Date: Wednesday, February 21, 2001 12:18 PM
Subject: á man, a Plan, a canal: Panamá --part 5
Eric Vance
To: Eric Vance
Date: Thursday, February 22, 2001 9:26 AM
Subject: Eric: (Panama -- part 4 found!)
Brief history:A transisthmusian railroad was built in the 1850s. The French acquired therights to build a canal in the late 1800s, but failed. Colombia(which had sovereignty over the isthmus) denied the US canal building rights, so the US helped the Panamanians secede, in return for the rights.The canal was completed in 1914, owned and operated by the United States. Dec 31, 1999 Panama took control.
Eric VanceEric Vance--Mexico, Central America
October, 2000--February, 2001
Eric Vance
To:
Date: Sunday, March 4, 2001 3:37 PM
Subject: Quickly in Venezuela
Eric Vance
To:
Date: Tuesday, March 6, 2001 1:55 PM
Subject: In Brazil
Eric Vance
To:
Date: Saturday, March 10, 2001 7:30 AM
Subject: Amazon jungle
Eric Vance
To:
Date: Thursday, March 15, 2001 1:49 PM
Subject: Brazilian travel
Eric Vance
To:
Date: Saturday, March 17, 2001 7:03 AM
Subject: !Another email!
Eric Vance
To:
Date: Saturday, March 24, 2001 2:32 PM
Subject: Going south
Eric Vance
To:
Date: Monday, March 26, 2001 9:20 AM
Subject: Salvador
Eric Vance
To:
Date: Tuesday, March 27, 2001 6:24 AM
Subject: A little more from Salvador
Eric Vance
To:
Date: Monday, April 2, 2001 7:46 AM
Subject: I need more info
Eric Vance
To:
Date: Tuesday, April 3, 2001 9:07 AM
Subject: A Rio good time
Eric Vance
To:
Date: Wednesday, April 4, 2001 8:39 AM
Subject: Meeting Octavio
Eric Vance
To:
Date: Thursday, April 5, 2001 9:31 AM
Subject: The real Rio
Eric Vance
To:
Date: Monday, April 9, 2001 5:30 PM
Subject: Iguazu Falls
Eric Vance
To:
Date: Tuesday, April 10, 2001 3:19 PM
Subject: A day in Paraguay
Eric Vance
To:
Date: Saturday, April 14, 2001 10:51 AM
Subject: Local culture in Bolivia
Eric Vance
To:
Date: Monday, April 16, 2001 3:20 PM
Subject: Easter Bolivia
Eric Vance
To:
Date: Wednesday, April 18, 2001 4:57 PM
Subject: Sucre, part 1
To:
Date: Wednesday, April 18, 2001 7:55 PM
Subject: Sucre, part 2
Eric Vance
To:
Date: Friday, April 20, 2001 7:08 PM
Subject: Cerro Rico
Eric Vance
To:
Date: Thursday, April 26, 2001 12:50 PM
Subject: Uyuni
Eric Vance
To:
Date: Friday, April 27, 2001 10:19 AM
Subject: La Paz
Eric Vance
To:
Date: Wednesday, May 9, 2001 4:14 PM
Subject: Rurrenebaque
I went fishing for them in Brazil's Amazon rainforest. I didn't catch any, but everybody else on the canoe did. And it was fun anyway. We just paddled to a likely spot, hooked bloody chicken to our lines, and waited for the bites. Piranas really are ravenous. I got plenty of nibbles and tugs but couldn't hook any. The ones we caught (and ate) weren't very big but had a big mouth and so many teeth. We fished for them again in Bolivia's pampas, but only caught catfish.
I'd already seen a river dolphin in India, but they're still cool. I think way back in the days, the Amazon flowed opposite of now, from east to west. But then the Andes rose up and caused the river to get confused. A big sea formed and the dolphins still remain. In the pampas I went swimming with them. They didn't get really close, but five were swimming in the river around me.
They live in the high mountains. I saw lakes (red, white, and green ones) filled with them. First time I've ever seen a wild flamingo.
It's related to the llama and alpaca, but they cannot be domesticated. Saw smalls groups of them in the same area as the flamingoes.
Related to the ostrich and emu. Big birds. Cool because I've heard of them before and they don't exist in N. America (except abundantly on farms). Saw them running in the Andes and in the pampas.
It's the big, famous parrot. Red, green, and yellow. Also saw the blue and gold variety. They're amazing to watch flying over the jungle trees. But mostly they're cool because they're the same as the pets, only wild.
The most unusual animal yet. Have you seen "The Princess Bride"? These are the R.O.U.S's. In the whole world they are the rodents of most unusual size. They're as big as pigs, bigger than dogs, and they still look a little like rats. They have a really big snout too, like an anteater's, only shorter and more smashed up in their faces. I saw a few rooting about along the river in the pampas.
They move very slowly, so once you've spotted one, well, you get a good view. I saw one along the river in the pampas. It looked like a monkey bear. It had two toes on its front limbs and three on back. Saw it move from one branch to another after we woke it up.
Monkeys are cool. In the pampas a troop of Curios George like small yellow monkeys cruised by each morning. First time I thought it was raining, but it was only the fruits dropping on the tarped roof of our sleeping area. A scary sounding howler was around camp both mornings too. Just like in Tikal, Guatemala it was strange waking up to an unknown roar. Saw capuchin monkeys too. Lots of monkeys in the pampas.
Eric Vance
To:
Date: Tuesday, May 1, 2001 4:42 PM
Subject: The Most Dangerous Road in the World
Eric Vance
To:
Date: Wednesday, May 9, 2001 7:35 PM
Subject: Tiahuanaco
To:
Date: Friday, May 18, 2001 6:49 PM
Subject: This and that from Cuzco
Eric Vance
To:
Date: Saturday, May 19, 2001 8:31 PM
Subject: Sacsayhuaman
Eric Vance
To:
Date: Friday, May 25, 2001 7:40 PM
Subject: Last week
Eric Vance
To:
Date: Saturday, May 26, 2001 6:59 PM
Subject: Machu Picchu
It was raining. The bus was slow. We bought our entrance tickets no problem (the rumor around S. America is that tourists have to do the trail with a group, starting from March 1, May 1, May 14, May 15, take your pick, it's just a stupid rumor perpetuated by scared travelers and disingenuous tour companies). Hiked quickly. Saw some ruins. It was raining off and on. Lunch tasted really good. Got to camp in the dark, in the rain. Cooked in the dark, rain stopped. Dinner was really good too. The tent was too small and Kyle's backpack way too big.
Eric Vance
To:
Date: Wednesday, May 30, 2001 5:44 PM
Subject: Northern Peru
Lots of cultures and civilizations in S. America and Peru.
200-700 A.D. were the Nazcans builders of the lines and figures in the desert, only possibly seen from the air. But I don't think they built the lines. The lines are older.
Same time period further north were the Mochis. They built some pyramids, still standing today, despite being made of mud.
900-1400 A.D. were the Chimus. They built Chan Chan.
1450-1532 A.D. The Incas. They defeated all the other civilizations. Very organized and very strict in their rule. People were not allowed to leave their towns or their fields because all production was centrally planned. If someone in Cuzco skipped work, maybe someone at Lake Titicaca didn't have enough corn. The Incas were defeated at a time of internal strife by Pizarro and his Spaniards and their horses and guns.
Eric Vance
To:
Date: Thursday, May 31, 2001 6:50 PM
Subject: Leaving
Eric Vance
To:
Date: Friday, June 1, 2001 9:15 PM
Subject: Back in the USA
Eric Vance
To:
Date: Monday, June 18, 2001 6:09 PM
Subject: My 2-week East Coast vacation
Eric Vance
ervance@vt.edu