Dealing on the streets of Caracas

Moving up in the world, today I made my first large deal after roaming the streets for a bit in Caracas. I was so nervous as I asked the man behind the desk if he wanted to buy any US dollars as I looked around speaking very softly. Asking me how much, I told a sizable amount. Saying that he has a few friends that might be interested and asked for me to come back later...I hesitated and agreed, later thinking that those friends will be meeting me before or after the transaction down the street.

Later in the day I went back making sure my shoes were tied and ready to run. Thinking I would arrive an hour early, I would mess up any imaginary plan that they had in place. After I used the negotiation skills I acquired at Marriott getting about a half percent more, he went in back to get the money. As he placed the stacks of money on the table, I had to internally laugh at how big the stacks were, having no clue on where this money was going to go. My pants are already tight enough with the extra sock roll I am carrying - laughing. Placing it in a secret spot...I quickly made my way back to the hotel. There I tossed the money on my bed and rolled in it for hours upon hours feeling as if I just won the lotto - get over twice the amount of money I would have received from the bank. As I was building up a sweat I figured it was time to put it all away and go out and celebrate. Time to get crazy and get an ice-cream and a soda! Oh yeah!!!!

I was almost robbed by a ginger...

January 28th, 2010: Roaming around the city...sort of hungry, dazed and confused, I came across the popular U.S. restaurant represented by a ginger (aka Wendy´s). For those who watch South Park might know what I am talking about when I use the word, "ginger" to describe red-headed children whether or not they are a red-headed step child. Missing Wendy´s chicken sandwich and french fries I decided to go in and get myself a value meal, crazily thinking there would be some sort of value. Stepping up to the ropes to look at what I wanted, I was shocked by the prices. For almost $18 (non-black market price), I could get myself something to eat from this ginger girls fast food restaurant. Walking out hungry with my head down kicking some imaginary napkins, I realized that I was almost robbed by a ginger.

Caracas...a big city

January 26th, 2010: When I wrote my last post, I gave Caracas two potential options on what it will be...a living hell or an angry kitten. I was wrong and should have listed a third choice...a big city. As every big city, it has its problems but Caracas´s problems are greatly inflated in the backpacker community. Staying in the section of the city my travel guide suggest I shouldn't due to muggings being a common thing...I have yet to see anything exciting such as a good knife fight, clubbing or gun fight. The hotel I am staying at is a hotel that has a first floor dedicated for those who want to use the place on an hourly basis such as those partially undressed workers outside, their pimps and drug dealers/users who might need a nice clean place for a nice power nap due to their crazy hours.

Getting here on a bus yesterday I used a great word that my good friend Martha taught me to say in spanish before I left Colombia...nervous. Telling the woman next to me that spoke not a lick of english, that Caracas is such a big city and I was a bit nervous...worked quite nicely as it had the college student walking me from the bus station through the streets to the underground metro system. While this was taking place she gave me a ticket and explained to me what I should and shouldn't do on my quick intro to the city - only understanding 1/4 of it (hold my bag in front of me and no phones or cameras). Getting on the train with me, she guided me to the station I needed to get off at. Now who said the people in Caracas are all uptight and not willing to help?

The most dangerous thing that has come across my way so far was exiting the train at the metro station. People were pouring in as I followed my lead blocker as he cleared a path out of the train as people were about to fight the people that squashed their babies.

Again, I have come to the conclusion that all those who said all this awful things about this place must have either been home schooled or were one of those children who only did play dates due to their over controlling petrified parents. So with this said, perhaps my next vacation should be...Iraq. I hear all of these awful things about that place too...so why not?

It is almost 7pm so I must not push my luck too much and start to make my way back to my cell on the second floor, which happens to be room number...13.

Off to Caracas...

January 24th, 2010: I will shed the last one of my friends that I have been traveling with the past few days tomorrow. She will be waiting for my email to see how Caracas really is before she decides to make her way over there. I still only hear horror stories of the place along with the rest of the country which I have proved to not be completely true. So, tomorrow...I will see if this is the city of hell or just an angry kitten.

Now how do you supervise a Jungle dance?

January 23rd, 2010: Went out to listen to some drums at the beach last night and learned to dance "Jungle." Well, I learned by observation not participation, but it seemed to be quite easy...you just shake your hips and hump the girl going in circles around her. If you are really good you can lift up your shirt or take it completely off pulling your pants up so it is tight letting your appendage take cheap feels on the consenting participant. It must be hard when you are living in the jungle and supervising a school or church dance.

True Venezuelan hospitality

January 22nd, 2010: Running out of boats to hop crossing a stream, a man offered me his back and carried me across the rest of the way...true Venezuelan hospitality not even wanting to rob me or call me childish names.

Dude...wheres my backpack?

January 22nd, 2010: Taking a bus to another beach town we had to do an unexpected transfer. Going to the back of the bus, the luggage door was wide open with only one bag in the back and that bag was not mine. Slow motion moment - Duuuuuudeee whereeeee is my backpaaaaaack? Five seconds later my friend said she saw it being transferred to the other bus as my world continued to run in slow motion gradually picking up speed as them minutes passed.

Black Market

January 20th, 2010: I need to change money on the Black Market. It seems much more devious than it is. If I didnt exchange my US dollars by finding someone on the street or someone who knows someone who knows someone...Venezuela would be so expensive. For example, my battle against the sun cost me a mere $10.50 for a small bottle of sunscreen instead of $24.00 at the official exchange rate. It would have been cheaper to pull a five finger discount but my heavenly self is not ready to stoop that low.

When water is more expensive than gas

January 20th, 2010: Went to the store to purchase some water for solely the plastic bottle. Costing about $2.00 USD for a liter, I had to think. Seeing a man fill up his gas tank a few days back for about $0.50 USD for 24 liters (6 gallons of gas) I wonder if my water purifier could clean the impurities out of the gas so I could just drink gasoline instead of water? I will have to see if there is a test subject out there for my experiment...maybe a dog or cat will have to try it first, then...a backpacker.

Butt implant needed

January 20th, 2010: I might possibly need a butt implant. After a treacherous boat ride yesterday hopping from island to island, jumping the tops of the waves instead of taking it slowly and going peacefully going up and down, my left and right butt bone seems to have taken some damage. Perhaps if I get an implant at a reasonable price, I can not just have the necessary padding for rough boat rides, but for bus trips and skinny bicycle seats too. Besides looking freakish, it seems like a good idea. I wonder if a woman would appreciate a nice silicon butt to squeeze?

Cruising in a Caprice Classic

January 17th, 2010: Cruising in a 1973 or 1980 Caprice Classic - I have no idea - along the hillside floating above the massive potholes with suspension that no longer exists in modern day automobiles, happy memories came to me. Sitting in the front blue velvet seat barely being able to see over the dashboard without my seatbelt on, it brought back memories of my brother´s and his friends gas guzzling battleships when I was younger. With the windows down and my hand holding onto the stub of what was once a holder for the mirror, we traveled back to Coro to transfer to a bus and to another bus and whatever else it takes to make it the our next destination.

I am now traveling with a Swiss guy and a woman from Holland - that seem to debate as if they were in bad marriage. Tonight, there was only a matramonial room available. So I called the floor and they get the bed since I am up till the wee hours of the morning and wake up before they even think about getting up.

Thank you Mr. Chavez!

January 16th, 2010: Hiked the Spanish Trail and explored some caves on the hillsides for around 4 hours. A group inside one of the caves had lifejackets, helmets, special suits and headlamps on while we had on just our five day old clothes - now muddy clothes and a pocket flashlight including a flashlight that didnt desearve to be called a flashlight. Underdressed or overdressed...I am not sure. Mr. Hugo Chavez seems to take care of the poor as we used the local buses for some great distances free of charge instead of taking an expensive tour or use of taxis. Thank you Mr. Chavez!

Drug users sighted by Mr. Eagle Eyes

January 15th, 2010: Did a hike with a very old man who was 73 or more years old. He was a bit slow but impressive with his speed. I thought it was funny when he saw some people down the hill saying he didnt want to go on the trail they took because of how he saw them with drugs - must of had eagle-like vision from the hilltop. I didnt believe Mr. Eagle Eyes saw anything and it was more so that he didnt want to walk down a very steep hill that he would have to soon walk back up - later thinking how are we going to carry his dead body out if he dies. Paying for a tour, we said that was okay and we still wanted to go down as my friend Ben told him that we had someone that was in the Army - yes, but people seem to forget that it was over 15 years ago.

Hot Shower!

January 14th, 2010: Pulling back the shower curtain, I see two knobs. Strange, I thought since I havnt seen a hot water shower or hot water on my body for over 1.5 months. A spark of hope came to me. Turning on the water with one of the knobs, it was cold. Thinking that it was another trick shower I turned on the other knob just to do it. Hearing the water pressure get stronger, I stuck my hand in the water, holding it there with my heart beginning to race - for those who know me...I am known to take hour long showers practically living in there at times. Thinking I might no longer be feeling icy water, I began to get excited. The water became hotter and hotter to the point of melting flesh off my skin. Today was a GREAT night, reminding me of all the luxurys back at home that I would take for granted. Tonight I had to dig deep to justify taking a nice long shower in the mountains which there is a water shortage...but I did it, thinking that it is better to have a happy person instead of a dead person.

Fu#ky Fu#ky...

January 12th, 2010: Meeting a mother and a daughter combo the other day, myself and two others ended up going out with them to the ocean with their family paying them for the transport instead of a tour agency of an area you can not get to by public transport. The mother was clearly trying to give her daughter away to someone and was quite discusting about it as she would go, "Fu#ky Fu#ky" to my friend who was already actively trying to practice making babies with her daugher and now has full parental consent. Not concerning me, I sat as I watched what was unfolding before my eyes in back of a beaten up pickup truck as we had an excellent tour for 1/3 the cost. From singing songs in the back to being obnoxiously immature about donkeys, I could not believe on how crazy traveling just became.

Going to the womans brothers house after seeing some flamingos and a beautiful sunset to teach us how to make empanadas...is when everything got really...interesting. Noting feeling good about this decision, I went anyways. Going down all of these dark desolete back roads, I would have thought it was time for our soon to be limp mutalated bodys to be dumped at the side of the road. Instead of being feed to nature we safely make it to the ancient ranch with not another house in sight. Taking a tour around the place they had a large range of animals. From dogs to several extra large man eating pigs - not to mention a brothel of donkeys - and yes, I did ask her if guys in Venezuela are known to lose there virginity to donkeys such as in the north coast of Colombia and she confirmed it informing me she could find me one if I wanted to try it - where is PETA when you need them for real world issues.

Now that the woman had her 18 year old daughter thrown at a potencial one night husband, she began to hunt for herself. I could feel the akwardness as she would make these crude sexual packed jokes. She then went for it telling me she liked me. Not knowing what to say, I just said I didnt understand hoping she was not going to say it again. Then she had my freind translate to me what I already knew. I said thank you and didnt know how to say, I was not interested in a fhilthy woman who would encourages her daughter to be a slut all day. My friend told me to be nice about it but I just thought thank you was good enough. She did not give up on me and later to me she began to pump her fists saying "Fu#ky Fu#ky". I guess I am not use to women being so aggressive, needing to leave right away.

She wanted us to spend the night and I said I had to go back with my friend Tim as the my other friend, Ben decided to stay with her daughter which was obvious. Her brother was now not going to drive us back to Coro for free since I did not want to make a personal payment plan with his sister. He decided to pull rate out of his behind and charge us $100 Bolivars each when the entire tour was about $36.50 Bolivars. But, he did say if I would spend the night a bus convienently passes right by his house at 4am. I felt as if he was trying to trap me for his desperate sister. Willing to walk through the desert with no water to I dont know where...the debate began trying to get us back to my hostel. Eventually I thought he folded but it ended up that he just took my friend and I to a cab station not to our hostel. I led the debate as we sat in the back of the pickup bed since the guy I was with only knew how to say hello in Spanish and a few other words.

After the words cleared we took a cab saving money, with this experience adding to the excitement level of the perfect trip that was getting better and better as the night grew older. I did learn something important today...to not relax so much and let not let others do the negociating.

Having to clear a military checkpoint were told that we needed to exit the car. The large powerful looking man kindly asked for our identification. Handing my passport over to him I smiled and kindly spoke to him. Looking at my stamps he handed my passport back and we had a small conversation in English. When finished he shook our hands and welcomed us to Venezuela.

The past two days I have felt no aggressiveness toward me for any reason. Okay, I had someone who tried to get a few extra bolivars off me but that is just a part of traveling and he was never agressive or rude about anything. In the street people will go out of their way to help me and nothing changes when I tell them where I am from. It seems like the younger people really like to see travelers wanting photos with us to saying a few words in english as we pass eachother in the streets too those being all the way across the street. I must say the South American Hospitality has not changed much in this wonderful country.

Myth Buster?

January 11th, 2010: Gulp...The bus rolls to a stop. Feeling as if I am back in the Army and somehow the bus became a C130 aircraft and I am preparing to exit the door at 1200 feet. When standing up the lump in my throat disappeared as my brain shut off as I shuffled out the door for the one foot jump into the frontier of Colombia. Quickly I cleared the Colombian immigration as I followed my 70 year old hunch-backed Colombian bodyguard who sat next to me on the bus helping me through the hoops. Walking across the boarder I was afraid that her frail body would not make it to the other side but somehow she got there without my assistance.

Reaching the window after a two hour wait, I was quickly processed Immigration without having to say anything through the tiny hole in the mirrored glass that separated us. Grabbing my passport I was cleared to begin my Venezuelan adventure. As soon as I entered my bus one of the passengers were collecting the bribe so that we would not have our baggage inspected at all of the check points. Not having anything but dirty underwear and all the time in the world, it wasnt a problem for me so I didnt pay...until the chatter on the bus began safefully assuming it was about me - not wanting to attempt to translate it, I think they were tellng the guy I was with the other woman trying to get me out of paying. Since the chatter continued as I passed the guy and sat down...I paid the $1.50 (blackmarket rate) due to everyone else doing it and then jumped off the cliff with the rest of them. We were stopped 5 times and only had ID checks thanks to our extra funding to the public servents.

The bus dropped me and some others off at Manicaibo. Sharing a cab to the bus station after a minor sqawble with the shady driver I began my search for some sort of transport to Coro which is 3 or so hour trip. Asking 10 different people throughout the bus station I had 10 clearly different answers. Not liking any of them...ranging from the taxis leaving at 4am to tomorrow evening - as would a child I continued to ask around until I found an answer I did like, which was there is one leaving now.

The taxi were not some typical obnoxious cab color...it was more like several colors, depending on how many different car parts that the car was made of. It seemed that anyone can be a cab driver - I dont know...it is just that the cabs seemed to be hoopties (Sir Mix Alot) that where basically junk on wheels. These cabs sit along the side of the bus station are used when buses and other forms of transportation do not exist or are readily available. With 6 people in total filling the Impala we made our way to Coro being stopped by the military and the police for about 10 times. Some of the stops we were able to stretch our legs for great lengths of time too short little ID checks. The stories I heard about these in Colombia were horror stories and I found them to be fine even after they saw that I was from the US. Was I just lucky? I dont think so...if you look at it statistically, out of 15 or so stops in total, everyone of them were fine - that hints to me that I might have been hearing words with not much meaning.

Getting to my hostel at 12:15am which I had a reservation for the 12th when techniqually it was. Knocking on the door then reverting to the doorbell. The man behind the iron cage and massive wooden doors - who seemed to me as if they might be holding Hannible Lector - would not let me in telling me they were full. Standing out in the dark street next to a sketchy park with the taxi cab driver that rapped me within the first minute meeting him - charging me a ridiculous price ($3.00 black market). I choose not to leave until he let me in. At first I asked for a bed, then a hammock and finally the floor. Being a good salesman or begger (you choose) he went away for a few minutes and then the doors opened - there was an unfilled bed he wasnt aware of. Day number 1.1 done and I am going to bed with a smile thinking that I just might be a myth buster about Venezuela.

Venezuela or Bust

January 11th, 2010: I leave in 4 hours to go to Venezuela. I think I am pretty much ready to go except for lagging on sleep and hiding my money in anyplace I can think of…almost anyplace. I am feeling much better now that I have consumed McDonalds and made a reservation for a place to stay on my arrival to Coro. Not traveling with my computer or a lot of my other weight bearing comforts, I am beginning to get excited for a new adventure that wont completely set in until I cross the Venezuelan border. Goodbye Colombia and helloooooooo Venezuela! - Gulp…

1,000,000 foot waves!

January 6th, 2010: Went to a nude beach at Tayrona National Park and it was just as I unfortunately expected…a sausage party - except for the one women with two plastic balls mounted to her chest who was accompanied by her husband...and son. Even though the view was not that great, the waves were. They were huge as it would go over my head beating me into the ground giving me a natural swirly as I would consume the salty water by the glassful in addition to pulling down my underwear (didn’t want to get my bathing suit wet) to embarrass me at the same time. It was so much fun that I could have stayed for hours!

Moments before I saw the waves I had been hiking for about 2 hours dragging my two little ole feet, tired from the heat and I was extremely sleepy from the night before. But as soon as I saw the wonders of the ocean I quickly ran into the water as would a 4 year old getting a burst of energy that lasted until I stepped out of the water to hike back to the campsite. That is what 1,000,000 foot waves will do to you.

Tramp Stamp

January 5th, 2010: Saw the best tramp stamp on this woman today at the beach…it said, ”Rios” (meaning God). How can a woman be a successful tramp and have the word, “God” staring at the guy as he does…something?

If it is not one thing, it is always something else

January 2nd, 2010: Quickly making it to my tent from across the street in a panic, I at once asked my friend for help. I was afraid that someone was going to enter the restroom I just left…before I was able to drown my children. With no running water I resorted to dumping half of the drum of saltwater from outside the front door which was apparently set up for this sole purpose. With a toilet that had an undiscovered cup lodged inside, it was still a difficult task seeming as if my unwanted children took some unauthorized swimming lessons while they were inside on me.

After resolving this issue, I tried to take a shower and noticed that the pipes lead to nowhere. Was this a sick joke or it is this the aftermath of someone stealing plastic pipes? Realizing that the pipes really didn’t lead to anywhere, I had a short lesson on how to toss a light bucket (much too small to lay in) into the depths of a cement storage tank to pull up fresh water for a bath. At first, I couldn’t seem to get it to sink, only bringing up enough water to perhaps bathe a pet hamster. Being told to throw it harder, I listened and finally brought up a huge bucket of water with a minor problem…I cracked it, realizing that this was the reasoning of my short term success as the water would quickly drain out onto the dessert sand.

Standing there, I remembered how I recently internally complained about having to take cold showers…but now, I would be happy with a cold shower as long as I had running water. Same as the toilet…in the past I whined about having no toilet seat and now, all I want is a toilet that flushes. How does that saying go? - If it is not one thing, it is always something else.

No Shame

January 3rd, 2010: Today I found out that the puffy poodle Tony, who is a resident at my campsite…really likes his blanket as he vigorously humped it in front of everyone with absolutely no shame.

Preparing for war

January 2nd: Preparing to go to Venezuela. It feels as if I am preparing to go to war, since war stories is almost I hear. Ranging from Hugo Chavez, corrupt police, expensive accommodations, violent thieves, to the brain washed locals with hatred toward those from the U.S. Now the question is…is this just a few traveler stories that spiraled out of control or is it propaganda fueled by the western countries to keep travelers out of the country that wants to be explored? On January 11th, I will find out as I cross the border into the wild, wild east. Could someone really be that rude if you give them a big smile? Can it melt away the anger? We will see…

2010…Anthony’s Odyssey

January 1st, 2009: I Enjoyed New Years Eve at my friends house as I sat drinking soda (aka pop) when the others consumed Budweiser, a foreign beer company that amusingly claims on the can that it is the King of Beers – perhaps for those who enjoy drinking an expensive glass of urine.

Four minutes before it was really New Year’s…the drunkard with the concert sized speakers lining the outside of his house mistakenly started the New Year’s music too early. As if someone shot the first round in a crowd of trigger happy Infantryman…there was no stopping the song or the carnage of male hugs and women cheek kisses that filled the narrow streets of the caged compounds. It was nice to see how neighbors know their neighbors and are not locked into their houses but enjoying it with a much larger family. I really miss having quality neighbors such as in my youth…the sort of neighbors that felt like family members, not just someone who has no name and habitats the house next door.

Last night, I learned how to score 12 wishes in one night – a lot compared to the just one wish you get when you turn a year older. All you need is 12 grapes that represents 12 months and consume the grapes at midnight making one wish for each grape. I also discovered a way not to look like a pyromaniac and found an acceptable way to light on fire a pile of stuffed clothes resembling a human. This ritual is to get rid of all the bad things that happened in the previous year and to start a new year – and of course to give you a reason to light something bigger on fire than some firecrackers or a few sticks in a measly little ole fire pit.

When I see “2010” I can’t help but think about outer space due to the film, 2010 A Space Odyssey. When I was a child, I thought that 2010 was so far away…and now, it is 2010. Time does go faster than we would all like at times - so did the creator of 2010 who I suppose probably thought we would be much farther along in the exploration of space than we really are. I can safely say that the word “Odyssey” is a good representation of my life. Not just now, but since I was born life has been a long series of travels and adventures. Whether it has been spent sitting on the porch where I grew up in Allen Park or sitting on the street in some chaotic city in Asia - it doesn’t matter where I physically am. So welcome 2010 and to the continuation of my odyssey.

Why not pee from the sandy shore?

December 28th, 2009: Today was perhaps the 2nd best beach I have been to since traveling. The beaches name was…Concha Something. My friend and I had to take a motorcycle…totaling three adults, two large backpacks and one helmet that was of course for the driver. Originally, I intended to take the safe confines of the back of a jeep but everyone kept getting motorcycle taxis since they didn’t have the patience to wait for the jeep to fill up. Not having time to call shotgun on the motorcycle, I had to mount the back seat having no extra space for my already tiny behind as it was almost hanging off, awaiting “that” bump to so unkindly eject me off as we traveled down the pot holed dirt road.

Having access to a $10 tent I was able to sleep in the comforts of the shade without the bugs – minus the bee that stung me in the chest after I messaged him into my skin as I applied sun screen without looking…ouch – as it swelled up destroying my 8 pack of imaginary abs.

The views in the ocean was not as spectacular at the views from outside the water. Shortly after drying my white pasty skin and bathing suit as an iguana would in the sun, I realized that I needed to go to the toilet. Thankfully it was just frontal fluids that needed to be released – but question is…where? With no known toilet I had to make a decision…should I go back into the water and get wet as I released my toxins or lift a leg and go on the nearest tree. Sitting there on the most beautiful beach I have yet to see in Colombia, I had to think about what difference would it make if I just stood on the sandy shore of the ocean and went directly into the water rather than entering the water to do it. Not wanting to get wet, to just have to dry off again, I decided to…get into the water and do it along side of the 100 others.

I believe in miracles!

December 24th, 2009: I saw a miracle today with my very own eyes!!!!! It was performed by an everyday teenager on his motorcycle taxi. A 300+pounder man with a gigantic butt that could devour a baby mounted his motorcycle wanting to be taken to some unknown destination. The bike almost performed a wheelie without moving. The driver of the motorcycle looked at me, wanting to laugh as I smiled back internally dying inside as he slowly rolled away into the distance swerving left to right not knowing if he ever made it.

I enjoyed Christmas at my friend’s family’s house in Santa Marta. They celebrate Christmas here on the 24th. Starting the eating festivities at around 8:30pm, I could only make it till 1:30am going to bed much earlier than the group I was with who was averaging 60 years old. The only excuse I could come up with was that I only had 2.5 hours sleep the night before (went out to the bars with some backpackers…wanting to come back early but stayed out to do some needed research on what happens in Colombia at 3:30am).

Mud Volcano?

December 7th, 2009: Today I made it to a well known mud volcano outside Cartagena. This was a kid’s dream – and an adult’s dream who might still think they are kids. Looking at the people next to me I said with a straight face, “I hope nobody else peed in here besides me.” I just implanted in their head that…people might actually go pee in here and other unspeakable things. With no known way to clean the mud, I could somehow see the thinking that was going on in their heads…as they questioned what the milky mud is actually composed of.

The Lost City Trek

December 14th, 2009: Today I experienced why most of the travel guides inform backpackers on how demanding this six day trek can be, completing several kilometers and seven hours of hiking for the day…reaching a mere 660 meters higher than I started after a roller coaster of hills and a multitude of river crossings. Unfortunately for me, the final stretch to the Lost City had no escalator to whisk me to the top, meaning that I was forced to put my weak chicken like legs to work. Slowly, I made my way up, one step at a time climbing up the 1200 awkwardly shaped steps as my body threw a tantrum as I painfully directed it to continue moving forward, vowing that I am going to give up hiking in three short days…questioning why I agreed to write this tour up.

Reaching the Lost City, I was clearly reminded on why hiking can be so rewarding as a smile of accomplishment came tearing across my face as I stood there with a temporary loss of words, trying to describe on paper what rested in front of me. Here I had magnificent views overlooking the dense jungle and rugged terrain, enjoying the sight that a miniscule amount of the white wheel chaired license plate holders get the opportunity to see back in the U.S., making the moment even more special.

The Beach

December 6th, 2009: Please note: “No gracias” translated into English means, “No thank you.”

Making it the tourist mecca of Colombia, I sit on the beach that rests beneath the shadows of the manmade structures that rise from the ground to great heights. Within the first 3 minutes I was swarmed by the walking salesman. No time to relax, I laughed as I heard myself say, “No gracias (no massage), no gracias (no bracelet), no gracias (no crab), no gracias (no oyster), no gracias (no freestyle personal rap session), no gracias (no whatever that is), no gracias (no painting), no gracias (no sunglasses), no gracias (no cigarettes), no gracias (no photos), no gracias (no necklaces), no gracias (no candy), no gracias (no beer), no gracias (no carved turtles), no gracias (no carved dolphins), no gracias (no hat), no gracias (no soda)…”

Overlooking the beach between the salesmen, 100’s of people stand like bowling pins lined up in the ocean, looking like a poor attempt of people trying to join hands across America.

Needing to consume so some required calories, I headed over to McDonalds for a Big Mac to complete my mental confusion on where I was, feeling as if I was no longer in Colombia.