Monday, January 31, 2011

The wonders of Mr. Allah with a sharp sterilized ice pick

January 31st, 2011: Just came back from “W” in Torre del Paines National Park which was perhaps the best trek in my entire 38 years and 5 months of life. It was as if Mr. Allah himself picked into my brain with a sharp sterilized ice pick and miraculously pulled information out of my grey oversized mass in the depth of my skull and built my vision of natural perfection.

The 5 day trek itself provided nonstop visual beauty and a nice physical beating upon my body. Goliath mountains with white snow hair in all different lengths and thicknesses covered them with surrounding lakes speckling the land in a variety of shades of blues as a multitude of waterfalls from little and great heights pouring into the rivers, feeding this great natural machine. If it wasn’t for the obese backpack with unusable wheels that I hung off my back…caring everything but the junk in the trunk, it might have been a simple 7 – 9 hours a day walking up, down, around and under the trail as the vision of pizza, hamburgers, soda and thoughts infiltrated and stuffed my brain.

With it not getting dark until around 10pm, it was hard to not to stop hiking at a reasonable 5 or 6 pm. Not wanting to waste valuable daylight hours my friends and I ended up calling it quits from the trail averaging around 9:04pm with some extra time to add some spent calories prior to bedtime. I do love nature and I do enjoy hiking, but I feel that I might have been coming down from my hiking vertex/peak for the past 19 years.

The weather in Patagonia changed as quick as the Dow Jones Industrial Average for the better and worse. It ranged from the beautifully warm sun rays containing a ton of vitamin D with a strong dose of UV cancer burrowing additives, snow, horizontal rain and category 1 hurricane wind that happily kept away all things that fly – ALL things that fly…from drunken Japanese Kamikaze pilots off course to all hated horse flies.

The forces of Patagonia happened to create the perfect storm one night and great stories as I was natures toy as it violently shook my tent in as if it was Regan MacNeil’s bed in the film, Exorcist during the night with gale force winds…hearing it tear across the land prior to impact as I leaned against one of the tent poles as the other side of the pole was supported with my backpack to keep my tent poles from buckling, eventually flooding my tent in knuckle deep water - breaking my rental shops dreams of hiring a waterproof tent. Thankfully I didn’t drown since I was in a large sleeping bag that seemed to suck up a large part of the water during the night.

From the overall great weather for Patagonia standards (and mine), perfect views, wonderful memories of witnessing the glaciers suicidal jumps of faith off the face of the mountains while experiencing it all with my friends from Israel whom I met on the trail who so kindly let me join them on their honeymoon for the past 5 days – helping make this trip to Patagonia a hard place to forget…even if did happen to have a lapse in memory in the near or distant future.

REMINDER: Click on the Photo Album for Chile to see a fraction of my trip photos

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Bunkmate tells me she is ready…as she stands in her thong

January 23, 2011: Noticing my bunkmate after getting out of the shower slipping next to my bunk in a towel only covering mostly her upper body…I respectfully stood in the walkway out of view telling her to tell me when she is ready. Shortly after she told me it was okay. Heading to my bunk I noticed that now she was no longer bottomless but bottomless…meaning that she now stood there in a thong but just that…a thong. A signal? I don’t know…I don’t read signals too well so I just went to my locker and pretended I was getting something…with only one cheap peek – okay…only two cheap peeks.

Heading upstairs to a party I met a couple from Argentina who I have been spending some time with on the boat. Telling them about my episode with “Thong girl” it ended up being much more tame after hearing about their traumatic story of catching two senior citizens having sex in their shared room, seeing the woman’s old butt in motion as she was taking a ride when they stepped into the room.

Sick I thought…not just the vision of this circus act but the smell of senior sex. Yes, you don’t need to tell me that this will be me one day – because I know I will not always be this…young. But, at this moment in my life…I would rather go to the zoo and watch monkeys have sex and enjoy the smell of cat p#ss in an unmaintained liter box.

Sitting there in the ships bar...I then realized that I am happy for my sighting in my dorm as I pointed out to my friends, "Thong girl" as she was on the dance floor...now, fully dressed. I am also happy I was able to share my experience with you, because what happens on the ship…doesn’t necessarily have to stay on the ship – a slightly modified Vegas slogan.

Dropping the soap in the ferry’s shower

January 23rd, 2011: Taking a mildly warm shower on the ferry, I dropped the soap. Fortunately I am not in prison so I was safe from any surprise attack from behind…but what the soap did is what amazed me. Without any rubber compounds it bounce like a bouncy ball hoping twice, once in the shower and the next bounce was in the private changing area and then between an 8.5 inch space out of the shower area and sliding along the floor.

Opening the shower door I was thinking that I could run out naked for a brief second to retrieve my soap without being noticed. Moving so fast that I didn’t think too much as I grabbed my soap in a pool of urine below the urinal – now what are the odds of it stopping in the worst spot of the bathroom? Quickly I jumped back into the shower, thinking that it is okay that it collected some of this body fluid of those men who had poor aiming skills because it is soap…and soap is almost always clean. But when I saw what else the bar picked up along its surreal bounce and slide is what sort of made me pause.

I seemed to pick up a variety of pubic hairs from all sorts of individuals. I was then forced by my cheapness to pick the strangers pubic hairs off the bar and then to make it worse…I had to struggle to get them off my fingers as I flicked and wiped the more difficult random male pubic hairs against the shower wall before they slide down the drain to help add to its already impressive collection.

Lesson learned…use soap on a rope whenever showering outside the home.

The boat struggles to not capsize as we hit the Pacific Ocean

January 22nd, 2011: Anthony’s Journal entry 687, from the Navimag. Beginning in the hideously wretched town of Puerto Montt, I have embarked on a 4 day journey on a ferry boat filled with cars, trucks, odd looking cargo and people, taking myself and a load of other tourists to the supposedly picturesque town of Puerto Natales, Chile, which is the gateway to visual wonders of Patagonia.

I am now laying here in my childlike space capsule with its curtains closed in a room with 18 other capsules that strongly resemble bunk beds. It is now 2330 hrs and we are all attempting to stealthfully pass the Pacific Ocean in this piece of stell on its outer edges in complete darkness before we go back into the safety of calmer protected waters. The boat ever so slowly rolls as if we were a top wobbling in its last seconds before its fall. The waves are coming at us in a series of volleys originating somewhere in the darkness from beyond my eyes or the eyes of anyone living I.
At times it feels as if the boat will not be able to regain its balance as it is continues to be pushed from all directions -unable to stop my brain before it leaks out the thought and vision…“what if?” This question does not really even need to be answered since the odds are in my favor, but it does create some extra mental excitement as I pause from time to time thinking about how much the boat just rolled and precisely that, “what if?”

Today was day number two which was filled lectures in 4 different languages, playing games with the other stowaways as I regain my Yatzee Champion status and a day of battling myself in trying not to fall asleep as I attempted to leisurely read a 20 pound book from hell - that I had personally delivered by a friend of mine during my journeys in which I have now been carrying for the past 16 months, 2 weeks and 4 days. I simply need to just throw it into the ocean…but I hear Woodsy Owl saying to me…”Give a hoot - don’t pollute – woo woo.

US knowledge 101: For my friends not from the US…Woodsy is a man, woman or shemale in an overweight Owl costume who is unable to fly and is paid for by the US government to tell kids that they should not to litter – woo woo! Thinking about it, this environmental campaign would actually be really helpful in South America…changing it up just a little bit to something like…Woodsy the Starving Dog or something in that affect.

Hiking with Jesus

January 20th, 2011: Today I did my last hike in the Lake District before leaving to Patagonia…with Jesus. He was the spitting image of the man that you see plastered and marketed all over the world because this man was the real thing – and French never the less! I didn’t see him walk on water or anything extraordinary but I did see that he had a large following…unfortunately they were horse flies and not the sluts at the Playboy mansion.

As I walked along Jesus’ side I thought about how much I dislike these…these…darn horse flies wondering why I felt bad for them the other week when I saw a father and son from Chile sodomizing some, laughing at how they couldn’t fly with this log sized piece of grass impaled in there anus. But I now see the entertainment value on this harsh punishment for these flies who were clearly invading my personal space. I myself cannot do such an act and it is not just because I am now walking with Jesus. Hmmmm…WWJD?(What would Jesus do). I suppose he would kill them sons-a-b#tch@s, but…WWIK? (what would I know).

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

No Soccer ball? That is okay…we will use a dog.

January 17th, 2011: I spent the past weekend at some friends’ apartment in Osorno whom I originally met in Peru…and yes, I prescreened them prior to my arrival making sure they are not clam dealers or flour distributors (referring to my post on pregnant prostitutes and drug dealers). The brothers’ hospitality taking my homeless self in was above anything I would ever expect.

The schedule they made for the three days was filled with some great activities – some I did willingly such as the visit to the thermals and Puyehue National Park but others I deferred such as rub a giant bull’s balls that stood in the city - even though they claimed it was good luck. Not needing anymore luck I settled just for a photo.
One day we ended up going to their farm house…houses. I don’t know why but I ran around the pastures like a little kid in his new pair of running shoes chasing the cows and goats - not to have a girlfriend experience, but to catch them. As they ran from me it made me want it more. This” Chase” can be similar to chasing girls or dreams I suppose…if they are not interested or the dream is hard to get you sometimes see yourself chasing them, just to chase them never thinking about ever actually catching them. At the end when the chase is over and you are face to face with the catch, you are then sometimes oddly not quite sure what to do with it.

For almost the past two years on this adventure of mine, I have ridden all sorts of horses…from rentals, to what I thought was the real thing. Riding plenty of rental horses, it must have given me the false idea that I was actually becoming good at it. Sitting on this “real” working farm horse, I felt the power between my legs as it would seems to spring on its toes as we made it to the pasture going from 5 kilometers per hour to 80 in 2.564 seconds. I liked it for say…about 6 seconds as it was not even yet in 5th gear holding on for my life that seemed as if it was going to be abruptly shortened or I end up like Superman if I let the horse get up to its top speed. So, I quickly slowed him down to a reasonable fast rental horse speed. After this, I began to wonder if I really like horses because a “rental” horse and “real” are completely different creatures. It is like a pink battery operated Barbie car to high performance go-cart with the racing flames along its side.

On the horses as we roamed around the farm – since I couldn’t catch the cows earlier on foot I decided to chase them on the horse. I felt like I was in a rodeo with my smile somewhat pasted to my face as my friend watched me looking like a child in professional fashion teasing the cows going in circles - being a middle child, teasing is my second nature. I am sure all kids on the farm do what I do at some point in their lives…I am just a little behind.

Getting an audience of other animals as I ran in circles, one guest was not on the invite list. It was a big dog observing us from a hill. My friend seeing the trespasser who I was later told sometimes enjoy the little animals too much and started his own chase but he was well aware what to do once the trespasser was caught. Approaching the dog quickly, a dust cloud filled the trail as the dog was kicked by the horse, playing soccer using a dog as the ball with the horse’s hooves being used as an extension of his feet as the dog was giving a Messi (famous soccer player) style beat down. It is surprising that dogs don’t roll as far as you would think after being kicked by a horse’s powerful legs. Well, I didn’t really participate in the game since my friend was being a ball hog and I myself was obviously not skilled enough on horses for such an activity. After a few kicks the dog seemed to casually make it to the safety of the woods.

It is time for me to head back south in this heart monitor like travel pattern that I seem to have been performing in Chile. I have come to the conclusion that Chile might be one of the most hospitable countries that I have yet to visit during my travels. The most hospitable? – I am not sure about that yet…but it will definitely put up a good fight against the now reigning champ, Colombia.

The joys of killing a horse...in a batting stance.

January 11, 2011: On a tour of the outlying islands in Chiloe I found myself surrounded by about 20 horse flies wanting to tear through my clothes and violate me when I did nothing but take a few photos. I was not sure if I was in the middle of some herd initiation or if it was just that these horse flies have an uncontrollable temper without anyone there to discipline them. I was not going to go down without a fight, talking off my hat I did some batting practice on the scenic beach dazing some – surely killing others with the blunt force trauma I dished out like a cafeteria style cook.

I love the outdoors but when you add an abundant amount of annoying insects, it can make watching the Travel Channel on TV slouched on a comfy couch with a hand down the pants and the other with the remote seem much more enjoyable.

Friday, January 14, 2011

Are your roommates’ pregnant prostitutes or drug dealers?

January 9th, 2011: During my travels I was kindly invited by a friend of mine to stay with her at her house. The vision in my over imaginative head on how this was going to turn out was so completely off, immediately starting with me being picked up from the bus station…

Entering my friend’s house I was officially introduced to her 2 roommates. Looking around as I rolled my luggage through the living room I felt that perhaps I made a mistake…but at that exact moment, I didn’t know the reasoning behind my internal feelings. Making it to the bedroom to where I was staying, I passed a series of rooms with one room containing an older man in his 60’s looking as if he was buttoning his shirt. This man was one more than her 2 roommates that I just met. Asking my friend Callidora (name changed to protect her identity) on whom that man was, telling me she didn’t know. “How can you not know, he is standing in a bedroom?” I said, making me think that something is not right.

After some mental prying, she then she told me a “piece” of what goes on in this dark house – with other pieces following later in the evening – but never seeming to know the entire pie. Missing pieces, I thought that perhaps I already tasted too much, regretting even asking in the first place, helping me discover during this visit that it is sometimes better…not to know.

I stayed there two of the four days that I originally planned to be there. If I liked to play in the snow from a girl dealing out of a rented room during the weekends or wanted to get a discounted 2 for 1 rate with a pregnant prostitute who also had a strange nightly rental agreement, this place would have been paradise.

Coming to visit Callidora, I sadly didn’t see “her” my entire stay there as she filled her body with the Bolivian marching powder seeming to play Mario Bros and Galaxia the entire nights not requiring any sleep.

I am grateful that the roads I have chosen in my life have thankfully never taking me down any dark alleys - perhaps shady, but never dark. Leaving early, I transformed into a preacher – not of faith, but as a friend…hoping that I can create a spark.

During my stay here, I learned an important lesson that I need to ask more specific questions about friends living arrangements prior to accepting invites…such as, “Are your roommates’ pregnant prostitutes or drug dealers?”

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

7.1 earthquake from the comforts of my vibrating bed

January 2nd, 2010: This was by far the biggest quake I have yet to be in and it was a spectacular show. A much better show than the New Year fireworks and much better thing to experience than the canopying (South America’s longest), the scenic hikes in Huerquehue National Park or the dead horses I rode the past few days. It is not that these experiences were bad…they were also great but I have always been a great fan of the uncontrollable forces of our planet and today, I enjoyed an earthquake as it woke me up from the middle of my late “justifiable” afternoon siesta.

After being woken up by the back and forth motion of my vibrating bed, it took me a second to realize that I wasn’t at a hotel who’s rates were set by the hour and that it didn’t take a quarter or another person to get my bed into full motion. It didn’t stop after a high school like performance; it went on for at least a good sized preview of what is going to happen in 2012 – if you actually believe Hollywood, Bollywood and the ancient people without computers.

Laying there while I was enjoying what was going on as I was nice and cozy underneath the blankets…the quake seemed to be showing off for its endurance. Being on the second floor at this small town hotel the building began swaying more and more. Then I began to think…if it is time to go somewhere perhaps a little safer or if I should I just ride it out…in bed? So, the decision was made and I decided that, there is nothing like…a 7.1 earthquake from the comforts of my vibrating bed. I sure do love Chile.

I intentionally climbed a smoking bomb

December 29th, 2010: Today I woke up and intentionally climbed a smoking bomb with an unknown length of a lit detonating cord. To be more precise I climbed Volcan Villarrica, one of the most active volcanos in Chile that has a nice hot lava lake in its crater. There was so many others climbing the volcano that the 300 or so Gortex, ax carrying climbers in perfect lines that they reminded me of the stores in the US at around 5am the day after Thanksgiving (also know as Black Friday – the most popular holiday in the US for people with nothing better to do with their time).

I thought seeing the center would have been the best part of the 6 hour climb to the top, but…I was wrong. The best part was the a possibly Guinness Book of World Records length slide down on our butts / butt sleds on the snow to the bottom. This is a time it is good to have some extra natural fatty padding in which I have a minimal amount – reminder: Most people get fat after they get married and not before.

Today was one of those days my smile looked like the Joker (Jack Nicholson’s version) as I tore down the mountain uncontrollably at times almost colliding into the scared others who scooted down as snow sprayed my face impairing my vision, at times shoot off the track of the others going into a wild tail spin as I would attempt to straighten myself out with my ice axe being careful not to imbed it into myself or another. Today I came to the conclusion that bombs can be fun...when wearing Gortex.