Contrast

I am far from alone in South America. Some of the people I am travelling with have their own blogs. Sarah´s blog can found here (Note to Bolivia) and our friend Lauren´s blog can be found here (LB in BA).


As previously mentioned on this blog, photos of places we have been can be found here.

We make it to Boliva

Travelling North

On 12 December 2009 we return to Cordoba to get ourselves up to Bolivia (via Jujuy). It has almost been one month in South America (or month since I finished work) and we were finally getting near our core destination. Before leaving we had to wait about one hour as the bus we were taking had engine problems. The Argentines were once again great role-models: no one cared less about the delay and just chilled out while the mechanic fixed la problema. No one even asked what the delay was or queried a new ETD. On the bus we watched Control with Defoe and Liota. Not a great film but did the trick in terms of distracting us/helping us get to sleep.

Days in Jujuy and Border Crossing

When we arrived in Jujuy I insisted that we take the Lonely Planet recommended hostel., The place is without modcons and Sarah is not convinced this is the place for us. Too bad. We stay and have a relaxing couple of days checking out the Police Museum, Archaeology Museum and CulturaArtes. The Police Museum takes the cake out of all off these as it has a really fascinating, strangley macarbe, collection of Police Chief photo-potraits. The collection must span about 50 plus years. Very haunting. Even more spectacular was the photo collection housed in the upstairs R-16 section. That collection of photos displayed hangings, dead drunks, murders, et al. I have never been one to seek out snuff images online so maybe I am a little naive in regards to this kind of images. It was pretty offensive and at the same time I had to look at them all.

In the evenings we take the time to cook our own meals and I finish When Gravity Fails. If your want a book with a strong anti-hero then this is the one. My favourite memory from Jujuy is taking a shower in the upstairs bathroom. From the shower you can look out a large window over the roof tops of the city. Having a hot shower and staring out at such a sight, with their monumental Church towering over the other buildings was a neat spectacle.


La Quiaca, Villazon and trip to Tarija


We leave Jujuy on 15 December 2009 after having breakfast at a vegetarian place called Tierra Madre. Lucky Sarah insisted on eating breakfast becuase this turned into a long day. The border crossing in La Quiaca was easy but took a long time. Once in Villazon we both felt very fatigued and then found out that buses only leave at 20:00 which means we will arrive in our planned destination (Tarija) at 03:30.

After we eat some pizza and drink two litres of coke at a place called Snack Resteruant Oriental (which was about as oriental as Georgie Pie) we both start to feel a bit better. We bit the bullet and get our tickets and then kill about five hours waiting to depart.

The waiting turns out to be a lot of fun. The bus terminal in Villazon is circus in the best possible way. Upstairs there is a ad-hoc childrens boxing gym. The lady who we buy tickets from is an absolute sweetheart (and which we are thankful for in our weary states). While loitering across the road, waiting for our ride, we observe a lady hand making salteña (a dough pocket similar to an empanada) and she is making a killing. A mixed group of Spanish speaking guys, two with perfect English, approach us for some help. They are having a great time and are full of life shaking our hands and laughing in between personal, light-hearted innuendo. We are unable to help them but their engery is most welcome. Later a drunk guy comes up to us and kisses Sarah´s hand half a dozen times and gives me a massive hug and several handshakes. He returns later but thankfully our bus finally arrives at that time. Before getting on the bus I go to use the bathroom. On my return a derelict is dancing and stomping his feet singing loudly and cheerfully to Sarah (in order to illicit a tip). He is very animated and despite his appearance Sarah takes the whole performance in her stride.

After all this (a long day travelling) we finally ge ton a bus that takes us to Tarija. Our taxi driver is a helpful guy but the Hostal which I insist (again) we take is terrible and overpriced. We leave there first thing in the morning, feel very average, and move to Hostal Miraflores.

A Couple of Days in Tarija

Sarah and I stay in Tarija until 20 December 2009. We spend an excellent week working on our budgetting, spanish, watching MGM movies (the most horrendous being Sleeping with the Devil with Shannen Doherty; I love this film). We check out the palaeontology museum and work on catching up with freinds, family and blog.

On Satruday night Cheetah and I go on a date and drink a bottle of wine. It is the first time I have had alcohol in Bolivia since leaving Argentina. We have a great time talking about our plans for the year and reflecting on where we are at. We are finally in Bolivia, just like we always planned. To say this is a dream fulfilled is a heavy handed statement, but to bad, becasue that is exactly what it is.

Before dinner we walk past an inner city basketball court and there is under 17 teams playing. We sneak in and watch one and a half games. Number 8, surname Choco, is our favourite player but his team finds a world of hurt with a 50 point ass-whupping.

Tarija appears to be quite wealthy. The plaza is very nice, very well maintained. There is begging (often a whole family, sans Dad) in the streets which I found very confronting (to state the obvious). I cannot really comment on this at the time; I am sure the homelessness in Tarija is moderate in comparison to other parts of Bolivia. When it comes to writing about poverty I will be taking my time.

Next stop Sucre; freinds and family.

Rendezvous with Jim and LB

Wild Stallions in Cordoba

Sarah and I arrive in Cordoba on 04 December 2009 after a fairly painless two-bus trip. We arrive in the AM and the hostel dude is nice enough to let us in early to our room. This is a big relief as we are really keen for a hot shower and some quiet time, away from the hustle of travelling and negotiating a new city. The morning is spent relaxing before heading out onto the street. The people of Cordoba are very friendly and patient to us and I would have to say that if anyone wanted a big city to stay in to learn Spanish this would be the one.

In the evening Jim and LB arrive and we head out to have Middle Eastern for dinner. There is a wait for the table so we go next door to a bar for beer. On the walls there are paintings of horses – some as portraits and some as stallions raging through a river – which are, unintentionally, homoerotic and completely awesome.

The following day is a busy one where we hit a couple of museums. The first one is a natural science one which I cannot recall the name of for the life of me. This place was pretty fun and was the first place that made me realize how important anthropology and palaeontology are to South America, as a generalisation.

The second museum we went to was Palacio Ferreyra. This was a solidly compiled selection of Argentinean art that spanned the last 100 years, give or take. It was really nice to be back in a gallery looking at painting with no rush to be somewhere else. My find of the trip was an artist called Francisco Fader, but now I Google him I see that no such person exists. Something for me to get the bottom of later, I guess…

During the day we also went for coffee and decided to sit inside which is a fairly uncommon choice for us. While we were sipping away a massive squall came though in the street adjacent to us sending leaves and rubbish up in the air and pushing the smaller trees to a 45 degree angle. It was really remarkable and seemed to come from nowhere. It is things like this that make you realize that the conditions work in a very different way when you are on a continent as big as SA.

In the evening we teach LB and Jim the dice game and have a few beverages. Jim wins well. Later we head to town to see some very mediocre jazz (there is a jazz festival on in the city) which is played out the front of a mall. The mall is new but uses an old colonial for its façade, basically an abomination. The coolest part of this scene is seeing the young Latin American Goths hanging out the front of the mall. The full spectrum is represented here, from the obese guy with a trench coat all the way through to the newly beginner Goth who is now wearing all black but is making the pleasing gaffe of wearing a t-shirt with a “Rip Curl” on it. Rad.

Mina Clavero

The umpteenth bus trip and we are now in Mina Clavero. The journey is very unique this time and there are moments when I get glimpses of what Scotland might be like.

When we arrive Jim and I sit in a bus bar which is humble but clean and austere. The lady who serves us is curt but efficient, the locals at the front talk loudly but do not jeer us. We drink beer and play coin rugby, I cannot even recall who won this epic battle but it should be recorded. For now I will say it was me as I do not have any lingering pangs of loss. We drink beer while LB and Sarah go and find a beautiful place to stay. Jim and I joke about how we would never do such a thing (i.e. we would not investigate, just take the first place we found) but then concede that they will probably come back with a great find. Our better judgement serves us right and the girls land us a place that is more or less a cabana with a kitchenette, grassed and garden courtyard, TV and pool; all this for the price of what it would be to stay at a hostel. The place called Los Angeles.

The Week

The week is spent playing dice game in the evenings and doing mini trips in during day. Jim seems to win every other game of dice, and we play a lot. I complete 100 Years of Solitude and begin reading When Gravity Fails. This is a book that I have been obsessed about reading for over a decade. Many moons ago I played a game called Mines of Titan obsessively. The same maker also made another game called Circuits Edge which was developed from When Gravity Fails. Based on the cover of that game alone I have always longed to read it. Childhood dream #34 fulfilled.


The rest of this week is spent attempting to see condors, visiting a massive collection of curiosities, Museo of Rocsen, created by a man you are never told enough about, somehow watching 27 Wedding Dresses for the second time while in SA, drinking Quilmes and going swimming.




Journey to Quebrada del Condorito


One of the attractions in Mina Clavero is the condors. The day we go it is overcast but we do not think anything of it. It has been hot for the last four weeks so I do not think anything of wearing anything other than a t-shirt. When we arrive at the park we are literally in cloud and the visibility is very poor (10-20 meters at a guess). Nonetheless we have a great day looking at birds that are not condors and getting out in nature for a change. The cloud never cleared while we were out here and we never saw a condor. Something to come back for perhaps.


During our trip we come to a sign that instructs us to keep to the track and not to mess with the surrounding habititat to avoid being mauled by a puma or bitten by a snake. It is refreshing to be in a place where there are animals other than birds (as in NZ) about the place. We do not encounter any puma or snake while on our hike.


Swimming


The stand out activity for the week is swimming. At the cabana it was nice to swim in the pool, playing puerile diving games with Jim, but it was the river that ran through Mina Clavero that really made the place. I lack the vocabulary to describe the amazing rock formations that have led to the formation of this river but I can tell you that this is the place that you dream of hanging out in when you are a kid. On our first day we made a new freind: a dog we named Spike. Whether he was stray or not we could never figure out (likely), he did not have tags on him, but he had a great nature. While we were walking along the rocks looking for an appropriate place to swim Spike wandered into some bushes which LB also approached. Therein he located a snake. Spike was our protector from then on. Sarah did not enjoy this encounter and was not happy about walking past or through bushes thereafter. We saw no more snakes that week.

We returned to the river again later in the week. The first trip we made was nice but we kept it conservative in terms of our exploration. Now back again Jim and I were keen to step it up (James had actually been back subsequently and found a spot were the local youths hung out and he recommended it highly). This afternoon turns out to be a crazy one, firstly because Spike turns up out of the blue and secondly because there is a small rapid next to the pool that James brings us too.


Once we arrive we cautiously look around the pool and wonder how to get to the far side in order to jump off the choice-looking rocks. Spike, possibly bored, decides he should check it out first and jumps into the water right next to the rapid. As he does he starts to get sucked-in by the pull of the water and we see his four legs working like mad to get back up stream. I start to get my stuff off to assist our friend but before anyone knows it Jim is in the water trying to rescue him fully clothed towel and all. A few seconds after entering the water Jim has a reflection on the decision and says "what am I even doing out here?" A brief moment later the two are washed down the rapid. We all have a mini-panic and I get front row seat to the sight of Jim with his arms wrapped around Spike looking stoic, though alarmed, going backwards down the rapid. It is all over very quickly and both are OK though there is some mild shock and Spike is afraid to go back in the water thereafter.

The flipside to this mini-catastrophe is that I have observed the strength of the flow of water. I end up travelling back floating down the river head first (doggy-paddle); scampering over rocks to avoid the dangerous parts. I have a boyish grin on my face the whole way. It is just me, my togs, the amazing rock formations and the river.

This all happens on our last full day together. In the evening we drink Quilmes, talk cheesy and big as we have a tendency to do and play the dice game which Jim monotonously wins again.

Out of BA

Hanging out with Hester and Rachel in the North


So Sarah, Hester Rachel and I made it out of BA on 24 November 2009 and headed straight for Iquazu Falls. When we arrived it was appropriately humid with no pool or cool water in sight. The bus trip to this town was excellent. I have to say that the buses in this part of the world are exceptional. Historically I have found such a journey (eighteen hours overland) horrific in the extreme but with the service that is provided, this type of journey is most enjoyable. When we left BA there were simply miles and miles of flat terrian that was some of the most boring, unintersting landscape I have ever scene. Having said that I was in no mood for sights anyway and spent many, many hours just staring at the back of my seat or out the window not paying much attention to anything; it was a liberating feeling. At some point I started reading 100 Years of Solitude, borrowed from Hester, despite having seven other books to read. I could not put down this book.

Iquazu Falls


Iquazu Falls was fun to visit. I really enjoyed watching the swallows, that are everywhere in this park, swoop down through the air currents created by the falls. At times they would come preposterously close to the falling water and it was a fascinating juxtapostion seeing something so small playing in something so vast and powerful.

While standing on one of the viewing platforms I gave out an involuntary "whoooo-hooo" which I did not know what to make of. This was to be the first of two for the week. In this instance the platform was just below a part of the fall that made it feel like the unfathamable tons of water were going to come crashing down on you, not unlike the thrill of a roller coaster. While walking around this park every other person seems to be smoking inbetween taking hundreds of photos of everything. This place is like a theme park that just happened to be a natural wonder at one point in time. To get around the park you can ride a faux-train making it feel as though you are at Knott´s Berry. I hate to think how many photos on the internet exist of the falls. I´d go google something to investigate that but writing in an internet cafe is surprisingly annoying so I will leave it to imagination. Too many, I am sure.

Salta

After the falls we went overland again (twenty-four plus hours this time) to Salta. This town ended up being alot bigger than any of us expected but despite this it was a mellow place in contrast to the timbre of BA. When we arrived we checked in at the chepest hostel we could find then went to the town square (every town in Argentina has a town square). When we sat down to have coffee a big band was playing in a near by gazebo and the sun was coming through the trees. It was a conspicoulsy nice scene and it felt god to relax.



Salta ended up being a mixed bag of site seeing (Gondala, Colonial buildings) and partying. When we arrived to the hostel it was about 01.00AM and the girls all decided they needed to go through their bags, have showers, find some inconsequnetial item or ask about something that could have waited until the morning. All through this scene there was this dude in the dorm who was trying to sleep. I guess I felt a bit embarrased by this performance as it seemed to go on forever. In any instance we wake up in the morning and have some basic interaction with him. He comes across as overly polite and apologises for his bag on the floor being in the way (!), even though it is not. It is an absurd response to our own bad manners the night before. Making a long story short, Will, turns out to to be a really nice guy who we drink beer and watch the AB v. France game with. He is going back to Bristol to be with his girlfriend and pursue a career in animation in a week.

Following the game the hostel manager took us all out on an impromptu bar tour. We see live music - a cheesy dub-rock-reggae band - which we all have a great time dancing to. Sarah, Will and I get home around 4AM. Hester and Rachel show real steel and see the new day in with some fellow backpackers and shots of gin left over form the previous night.

Cafayate

On 30 November 2009 we all traveled to the town of Cafayate. This place is exactly what we expected Salta to be like. It is a small town with a modicum new buildings, plenty of old, and some dusty roads. It also underscored that dogs do indeed roam the streets everywhere in the north of Argentina. A bonus in this town is that there are donkeys strolling around from time to time and the vineyards make for a nice foreground against the vast Andes behind them.

On the first night we choose to stay in a poorly maintained campsite. The lodging we chose was a cabin the size of a sardine can. The night was a difficult one that drove both Sarah and Hester around the bend. On the plus side the cabin only cost 10 peso each; strangely I am the only person who thought the price made it worthwhile. In the morning we leave immediately and find a really clean place that serves an excellent breakfast in a sunny courtyard.

Further Proof that Watching Karate Kid All My Life Was a Good Idea

So following the terrible sleep we hire bikes, jump on a bus and head out to the desert to look at some canyons, dirt, standard tourist stops (e.g. Garganta del Diablo) and then ride 50KM back into town. Red rocks and vivid green plants. Once out here I challenge anyone to find this landscape anything other than spectacular and sempiternal. In fact I just read a line in Earth Abides that sums it all up, but I will comment on that another time.

So photos get taken and we bust out on the bikes. Setting off on the bike feels great. Being in such a place feeling the wind in your face with the blue sky overhead cannot be beaten. It inspires the kid in me and for the second time I involuntarily let out a "wooooo-whoooo." It is delivered without irony. And is a very simple moment I will cherish in the future, no doubt.

So as it turns out 50KM on a bike is a long way in the sun, in the desert. We did a fairly good job of being prepared. We had water, food, a general plan for stops and getting through it and despite the previous nights sleeping problems we are all in fine fettle. With no words of advice from the people we rented the bikes from we genuinely thought we were set.

Problems encountered were fairly long hill climbs (though to be honest not very steep), Rachael not feeling confident in her fitness, me sweating - like I sweat when I exercise - compounded with the heat of the desert sun, Sarah getting a sting from some unknown bug that freaks her out, having entirely not enough water and Hester getting a flat tire. In terms of the latter I managed to fix that for her/us; a rare moment for me to do some archetypal guy stuff that I can actually do without stress.

By 40KM Rachael has left (wisely hitched a lift back to town), there is no water in sight, and we are at our limits psychically and mentally. Hester is swearing like she has been at sea for two years, Sarah is slipping into her marathon running mode and I am chanting to myself quixotic self-help type things and visualizing Daniel Laruso doing his thing. Somehow we make it back to Cafayate and are all in a mild state of shock and - as the cliche goes - do not know weather to laugh or cry. When we eventually peddle back to the hostel Sarah and Hester have a little cry out-of-relief. Eventually I start to feel very excited, but keep it to myself given the emotion of the situation and because in normal circumstances Hester would probably stab me with what ever was close at hand. It was a real thrill being taken to the limit like that and it is always interesting to find out how you cope. In the final analysis we all did amazingly and I was very proud of Rachel, Hester and Sarah.

And the Rest

The rest of the time we took it easy. We ran into an American guy we met a few days earlier and lunched, did a vineyard briefly and had asado later that night. During the dinner we met some Germans and an American who was fluent in German leaving him with a really striking accent that you could not quite put your finger on. They taught us how to pay Truco which was challenging as we had to play using Spanish words, the cards are different to a standard playing pack and the ranking of cards is not ordinal or by suit. The day after it was time to go, Hester and Rachel off on there own path and Sarah and myself on ours.

Words and Phrases: Settling in to SA

Bienvenida Sudamerica

So my day has started with a list. It goes as follows:

(a) Org. bus to Salta from Tucuman (b) Book hostel in Salta (c) Update A2SAAB blog (d) Finish Treasure Island.

Tonight Sarah and I will be catching two buses, one to Tucuman and from there another through to Salta. We are travelling with Hester and Rachel for now and are currently having a swell time in Puerto Iguazu (we have just been to the falls yesterday). Come the end of our time in Salta and we will go our own ways, though will see them both for a day or so at Christmas in Sucre.

BA

Up until 23 November 2009 we have been in Buenos Aires. This has been a great city to start the trip in as it has (a) had many freinds already there and (b) it is, as all the books point out, a very European city; in the sense of the latter this has meant that culture shock has been negligible. My first impressions of BA were of course in the negative. Dog shit rules the pavements, the pavements are distressed and crumbling throughout, the people we had to deal with at customs, the flight attendants, and most notably the taxi driver from the airport were surly and distant in the extreme. There was very little to take away from this other than a feeling that this country has seen enough tourists this side of the millennium. Our presence is an inconvenience.

The Taxi Driver

When we arrived at Ezeiza airport we found ourselves waiting over an hour to get a taxi due to a crash. When we finally got on one we were bumped up in the cue because the people before us had too much luggage. Our driver, with his squinty eyes, laconic interpersonal skills and hunched posture was the opposite of amiable. Once on the motorway he was on the tail of a other taxis in the fastlane, within inches of their bumper, sitting on his horn. When he finally overtook a more bourgeois looking taxi he spent a good period of time with his eyes off the road stearing the slower driver down.

Lanes did not exist on this motorway and the driver swerved in and around cars with a confidence that, to some degree or another, softened Sarah and my fears that this dude was homicidal. That was up until he had to exit the motorway. He did so my accelerating accelerating at full speed through the painted shoulder of the off-ramp in an attempt to overtake the vehicle in front of him. The vehicle was an ambulance with its siren on. I looked meekly over the seat in front of me and we were heading straight for the median barrier. Exhausted and, for some reason frightened, I got in touch with the slow motion sensory that executes when you think you are going to die. So we make it in front of the ambulance and pull to an abrupt stop at a set of lights. We stop right behind a cop car. Not a blink of an eye from our driver as he stared out his front windscreen (which was broken long before we ever got in the cab on that day).


Porteños

By the end of our time in BA we are much more familiar with who you average porteño is. People have frequently been uncommonly patient and helpful to Sarah and I. We go buy some epanadas and the old dude who runs the place explains to us in Spanish about the problem with counterfeiting. A female notices that our spanish is egregiously shit and steps into translate with smile on her face. I go to buy a CD off a street performer for mum (Iranian-Spanish music) and the same thing happens again. We go to a Boca Junior game and a guy - old enough to be my father - hugs me, high fives me and pulls me up off the ground when I fall from all the left-to-right jumping that goes on when they score their third goal of four. The cleaners at the Tango Hostel are super friendly and when they are checking the sheets while we are out they re-hang our clothesline more profeciently than we had (I, not we, had done a pretty average job). We went out to the museum at midnight. Why is the museum open at midnight? When we get there we find dozens of families going through looking into their city and countrys history. The people giving the guided tours are men who, although I could not understand them, impress as knowlageble, passionate and engaging. There are many, many more examples like this of how conspicuously “nice” porteños all seem which sits in stark contrast to our first impressions.



General

Overall it is safe to say that there is too much to write about now that we are on the road. Everyday it feels like there are so many crazy little things that happen or observations made. A blog like this could quickly become monotonous in the extreme. We have had a great time so far and have been spoilt for activities while taking each day at a reletively measured pace. We are on holiday right now, there is no other way to describe it.



While in BA we have drunk coffee and gone to spanish lessons from a guy who has heard of JPS and loves Christopher Knox, no shit. We have been tourists (I have really enjoyed this aspect of the trip much more than I expected) and visited Recoleta cemetery, Malba art museum (that has a Warhol exhibition on), La Bomba de Tiempo which is a very fucking out-of-town-gringo kinda of thing to do but had a blast enjoying the precussive mastery of the group and drinking out of a one litre plastic cup of Quilmes. I have been enjoying Quilmes (also known as Kill Me´s by James and I) plenty. On this point James and I had a good day spent doing guy stuff which basically equated to sitting on his rooftop getting pissed. We had a dope conversations and dropped some “where we at” type monologues which was very wothwhile. Later that night we went to Post and continued to drink to much. Sarah, Hester and Rachel turned up out of the blue and we finished the day with them. Prior to there arrival we saw a pizza delivery boy get run down by a blond haired lady in a car at a dangerous intersection (about 15 metres away from us). He got up right away and started called her a whore (“puta” ). He was in the right and actually had a compound fracture so it was not pretty, but at least we didnt see a fatality.

I finshied Old Man on a Bike which dad gave me before I left. The writting was humble and postive in that self-helpy kind of way that I appreciate, the glass was always half full for Gandolfi and that is something that I can respect. It has also made me think that I will make more of an effort to talk to older travellers over the next year. Treaure Island has 30 pages to go. Between this and Raised Fists song Words and Phrases I am feeling good.

Finally, my spanish is going foward all the time and I am enjoying learning but the reality is it has a very long way to go. I am realizing more and more that pronunciation is just as much of a challange as building up a vocabluary. Me and Sarah (The Elephant and The Cheetah) will be spending the following week working on this with a lot more intensity. I look forward to it.

Thanks James, Lauren, Hester, Rachel and Sarah, as well as all the portenos for making the start of this trip a good one. Aroha Nui.


Time to go cross some things off my list. For more photos of the trip so far follow this link.

Wednesday 11.11.09

Feeling of holiday started with a Corsendonk Pater (Abbey Brown Ale) at the Ponsonby Belgian beer bar with an enjoyable exchange with the short haired, blond bar tender. This was the guest beer, apparently. I have also received an Email back from Langridge which I reflect on. He says "I'd totally forgotten I ever did that, so it was a wonderful surprise. Very proud to be a part of your skin. Hope all is well." Which is pretty damn charming to me. I feel little to complain about in this moment.

Leaving work was good. All went to plan, generally speaking. People were very kind in their words, efforts and time. It was clear that I was incredibly lucky to be given such a send off. Besides the generous sentiments extended at my farewell I was given a blessed greenstone necklace, a wonderful card from all the office, book vouchers, some dough, a special gift presented by a colleague from her South American adventure and a book from Loretta - Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World - which was all really too much. Do I really deserve all this? It is a challenging feeling being treated so well by people. But I did my best to acknowledge this in my farewell speech and feel I now make a sincere effort to be gracious in such a situation rather than merely squirming.

In the afternoon I spend a long time going through my bag. It is still to heavy but I will just have to cull while I am on the road, I cannot figure out what to remove at this stage. The pack list, and essentially all my worldly possessions as of today, boil down to the following:

Small Pack
Toilet bag
2 bowls
2 Spork
Travel towel
3 locks
Pouch
Ipod
Shuffle
3 adaptors
Olympus DVR
Memory stick
Camera 1
Camera 2
Laptop charger
Phone charger
Security ties

Backpack
Cards
12 dice
Security ties
9 books
Sharpy
Pen
Sun glasses
Travel pillow

Main Pack
Trail shoes
Chucks
Jandels
Sleeping bag
8 socks
7 underwear
7 T shirts
2 shorts
1 thermal
1 long john
1 light jacket
1 heavy jacket
Jeans
Tent
1 raincoat

Toilet bag
Tooth Brush
Shaver
Comb
Sun screen
Iron tablets
Doxy 100mg
Savlon
Neosporin
Hard surface wipe
Loper 2mg
Paracetamol
Deodorant

Books
Earth Abides
Collapse
Globalization & its Discontents
When Gravity Fails
Treasure Island
An Old Man on a Bike
Hard-boiled Wonderland
The Beach
Robinson Crusoe

Needed
Passport
Travel Insurance No.
Ticket Info
Cert. copy passport

Total Weight: 18 KG

Being a nerd I love lists so it fills me with some satisfaction to have this taken care of. Now only two sleeps to go; family goodbyes and airport fandangos to come.

Monday 09.11.2009

Monday has been defined by some strong anxiety about going to South America for the year and me finally getting on with a tattoo I had designed by NZ born cartoonist Roger Langridge many years ago. This event has really brought me close to the reason why you travel. I had a great experience being worked on by Paul at Dermagraphics. The finality of leaving the country spurred me on to get this tattoo after much procrastination and as a result I have got a great piece but also had a blast getting it. Paul and I yak'd for a good part of the process. Connecting with someone you have never met before while doing something you have always wanted to do was really inspiring. Plus, he appeared invigorated by the uniqueness of the subject matter and Langridges design. The icing on the cake with this tattoo will be sending Langridge a picture of it, something I assured him I would do all those years ago. There has been a vitalizing energy about today and I ended it in an emotional state that was contradistinct to the one I started in. From a feeling of overwhelm to – to be blunt – an inspired state where new relationships have already been formed and I have not even left the country. Basically, fucking cool.

Saturday 07.11.2009

The final run in NZ has begun. The weekend was the typical process of being spoilt by friends from work, family and most importantly the crew that has been with me all along. James Chang organized paintball all the way from Wellington. Morgan, JC, PK and I all headed out to Kumeu and shot each other up. Morgan took the worst shot; right on the bicep with broken skin and deep bruising. Looked awesome. The evening went well and resulted in some unrestrained tequila fuelled rocking-out at D.O.C. It was a shameful display but felt amazing at the time. But not before some good debates and general shit talking at Corner Bar. It was a busy night and Sarah and I barely saw each other… but there will be plenty of time for that in the new continent. Thanks for the great night everyone who came.

Six days to go...