A bomb goes off in my roommates mouth

July 30, 2011: The last few days I have been wandering around Buenos Aires, stopping in and visiting old mansions, cathedrals and buildings mirroring those in France while lounging around plazas absorbing the way of life in this gargantuan city. This is clearly a nice tourist orientated city with beautiful people and things to see. It even has a great McDonalds with an excellent view from the full glass wall on the second floor overlooking the Plaza de la Republica making it a great spot for studying Spanish and people watching. With all this to write about in more detail, I have come to notice that most of the material I am writing about lately in my journals are directly related to what happens at the hostel.

American del Sur in Buenos Aires has been one of my favorite hostels in South America. It is not just the facilities but the amazing staff that works here. Though for some reason, this place seems to attract international entertainment on a daily basis whether you want it or not…and it is all included in the price of renting a bed.

Switching rooms yesterday, I no longer wake up to stars. Instead l woke up this morning hearing some splashing on the ground near my bed. I later noticed this clear thick liquid was on a direct path to my backpack, but fell short when a bomb when off in my roommates mouth. It would have struck my backpack if she would have had a better arc, but fortunately, the girl who was fully dressed in her prostitute-like stockings, missed.

For the next hour, I had the luxury of hearing wet belches. I worried that if I fell back asleep, I might have a dead roommate from choking in her bed that was cleverly transformed into a water bed – actually it was more like a…vomit bed.

I guess…I guess I was not that worried about her since I ended up falling back to sleep during my voluntary shift as I had my bed sheet covering my face to withstand the smell. She woke me up around 830am when she stumbled into the restroom, miraculously dodging the blast zone to release the 10 or so gallons that she somehow fit in her small frame. I felt that even though I did a bad job taking care of a person I never meet, my shift was over…so I headed out of the room that smelt like the stench of a filthy sobriety tank to enjoy some breakfast.

I was happy that I was able to eat this morning and even happier that my roommate was not on the top bunk above me. As for her…it is going to be a long day…a bomb did go off in her mouth and she lives to tell about it – no thanks to me.

Girl pulls up her shirt in bed to show me her two stars

July 28, 2011: I wasn’t going to post anything about the girl the other morning that showed me her 2 stars after lifting up her shirt – but, I just decide to modify my journal entry a bit and post it.

At 8am I shut off my alarm and headed to breakfast – after 30 minutes of pushing snooze. When I returned I noticed one of my 3 other roommates who got in quite late was awake. Sitting up to talk to me, she seemed to have been still impaired from a late night of celebrating her birthday that understandably morphed into an early morning.

She told me that she was worried about me since she saw that my bed was made, thinking that I never made it back from the Brazilian embassy yesterday. After about 40 seconds of conversation, she got all excited and wanted to show me “them” – I will take full blame…I asked if I could see them. Then there she went reaching for the bottom of her shirt and pulling it up and over “them”…her tattoos. She didn’t just have one star…she had two of them.

What is it about girls these getting stars? When I was younger I saw constellations of stars all the time while looking through the magazines my friend’s parents hid throughout the house – though they were so inappropriately photo shopped, covering the main thing a boy wants to see – needing to leave everything up to my imagination.

Now it seems to me that the star tattoo is becoming quite a popular tattoo, taking over the infamous red rose, tribal tattoo, barbed wire and even the Chinese signs. The advantage to the star though is that it has no boundaries. They find their way on chests, necks, backs, backsides, wrists and even the face such as the Belgian 18 year old decided to do one thoughtless night. She was a quitter thought…she stopped at a mere 56 stars.

Yes, I saw stars today, but today, I just saw two. I don’t think I will never understand tattoos…but who knows what tomorrow will bring.

(star photo pulled from http://weeklyworldnews.com/headlines/9062/girl-has-56-stars-tattooed-on-face/)

Attacked by magical street people wanting my backpack

July 23, 2011: I heard over the years about this magical “disappearing backpack trick” being performed by street people, but never seen it in action. Though today, I was fortunate enough to have the opportunity to see this risky feat starring…me. I was even selected out of the crowd of others outside the main bus terminal in Buenos Aires, Argentina. In a way…I felt…special.

After a 4 hour bus ride from Rosario on chairs as large as my grandparents Lazy Boy’s, Cecile and I stepped off the yellow brick road as we walked from the main bus terminal to the subway. Three weeks ago we were informed that these 2 blocks were dangerous…and I thought…what can possibly happen in 2 blocks? I happened to discover…a lot.

It was 3pm and the daylight was working in our favor. The walkway littered with multitudes of street people selling anything and buying everything ranging from clothing, TV antennas, watches and anything you thought you would never need.

ACT 1: The sidewalk began to narrow, funneling us like cattle. I noticed that I somehow obtained a grayish thick substance on my hand. At first, I thought it was the excrement from an extremely large bird or flying hippopotamus. I then noticed the back of my pants and backpack were also hit quite badly, quickly thinking and quickly eliminating the thought that I sat in something. It all clicked…we were being attacked by the magical street people.

Highly alert, things became as clear as a professional fighter in the ring. My backpack morphed into a turtle shell attaching strongly to my body, making it difficult for anyone to remove it, while giving my rolling backpack a rock climbers grip.

In order for this magical trick to properly work, you need to stop and let a selected street person that is placed there to help you clean up the mess. This is when the involuntary transfer of your belongings takes place. It all happened just like clockwork. It was a classical textbook theft that was taking place and ACT 2 started right on Que.

ACT 2: A women motioned that I had stuff all over me. I thanked her as I continued to walk in the funnel knowing others were close by…waiting…waiting for me to make a mistake so that they can make a dash into the crowded masses and side streets with my most important material weight.

Making contact with Cecile, I informed her that we were being attacked. She has also heard about this trick since her friend was hit in Buenos Aires, unfortunately losing that battle.

There were so many people around us it was becoming difficult to digest what was going on. Cecile and I stuck together, not stopping. Arriving at the entrance of the subway station we took the battle underground. We made it to an open area where some small designated shops and restaurants were. Putting ourselves at a vantage point, we now had an unobstructed view, being able to see if the street people were going to come down after us…and this they did.

ACT 3: While Cecile opened my rolling backpack for some baby butt wipes, I scanned the area, watching her back as we communicated about what was taking place. Then there it was…a man comes up to me and asked if I wanted a tissue as he pulls a tissue out of his pocket, dangling it. At first, I said “no thank you” in Spanish as he continued to hold the tissue out, acting as if he was trying to help. This is where I was supposed to take off my turtle shell and begin the cleanup process – completing the magical trick of the disappearing backpack.

I didn’t move from against the wall, grabbed it and thanked him…wiping my already clean hands. This is when I think he knew, that he was compromised. Stepping back, the man stood there looking at me. There was no reason for him to have come from down the stairs. Placing a quick call, he walked back up the subways stairs he just came down…leaving another suspicious man leaning against a pole, pretending that he didn’t know the guy.
ACT 4: The street people seemed to be working in a 3 person team. Next up was with the women who originally informed me above the ground about the mess on my backpack. Her credit card would not work to get her into the area where the ATMs were – hinting if I would help swipe her in with my card. This is an act that I was not familiar with. I didn’t help her, but it did hurt my feelings that they insulted my intelligence.

Noticing a police officer who was not that far away, Cecile and I moved closer to him so that it would give us a better spot to evaluate how this situation was evolving.

Once making it on the subway, I could do nothing but laugh and feel as if I was just earned a bonus backpack - it should have been stolen. But, not this time…not this time. There will be a time that someone will get my turtle shell and take home the prize…I am sure of it. But to get it from me…they have to have a bigger head or simply be brutally forward.

Howler monkeys drops stink bombs and golden showers from above

July 20, 2011: While visiting Colonia Pellegrini the past 5 days, we located a family of howler monkeys that had this habit of going out of their way so they can publicly go #1 and #2 in front of us voyeurs. There is nothing like taking photos of a monkeys sphincter as is opens and pushing out some hot steamy stink bombs while giving us golden showers.

Colonia Pellegrini has a whopping population of 1,000 people. I could not imagine living in a town that is this small in addition to being as flat as Iowa and marshy as Louisiana. To get here was not as easy as jumping on one bus. It was more like jumping on 5 buses including a nice nap at a bus station. From the bus over here we even caught a glimpse of vultures that enjoyed putting on a free aerial show resembling a slow moving tornado they floated above the trees in the distance.

Hiking, driving and boating around this place that contains all of this amazing wildlife, like the world’s largest rodent, caiman, spotted cats, otters, owls, armadillos, animals I dont know the name for, boring deer, piranha road kill and eagles without hair loss…made it worth our bus sores. Seeing certain animals in the wildlife that are not common for me in North America except for at the zoo…makes experiencing regions such as this, that more rewarding.

“The Man” verses 5 Hippies and 1 Frenchie

July 11th, 2011: “The Man” behind the immigration desk in Paraguay with the legal magical stamp for your passport didn’t want to let Cecile or 5 other hippies into his country after I was easily granted access from this Paraguayan troll. The only two differences between Cecile, the others and myself was that my mother vaginally released me in a different Geographic location and that I didn’t go to Brazil the other day to see Iquazu from “that” angle. Sadly...as the picture Cecile took from the Brazilian side shows (above)...that angle seemed to be a very very very nice angle.

My decision to not go and see the Brazilian side of Iquazu Falls wasn’t that I am against the Brazilian bikini wax. It was legally based because I needed a Visa and Cecile didnt.

After baby talking back and forth over the counter with the Paraguayan troll on Cecile’s behalf…it seemed that he was playing a game of “Simon Says.” Everyone but myself needed to cross the bridge and get a Brazilian entry stamp and exit stamp. The other Immigration officer sitting next to him was looking down shaking his head as he knew the others were being forced into playing a game nobody wanted to play…saying that he couldn’t do anything because “The Man” was his boss.

Due to the bus needing to continue its journey, I pulled our backpacks from underneath the bus at the border crossing. While standing with our packs we were informed that 3 of the 5 hippies received the magic stamp. Rushing back to immigration as the bus was pulling away…the soon to be fired Immigration officer applied the magic stamp after a little more begging and pleading.

Busting out the door as if we just robbed the place we stopped the bus as we tossed our bags back into the stomach of the iron beast and continued our trip into Paraguay.

A trend is beginning to appear…schedule more time when crossing the border in Paraguay, just in case you are potentially selected to play a forced game of “Simon Says.”

The “Million Man March” at Iquazu Falls?

July 10, 2011: Traveling to the northeastern region of Argentina to take in the views of the infamous - almost king of waterfalls, Iguazu Falls, I obviously had high expectations. I did not just expect to see an uncountable number of gallons shooting off great heights but I also had a vision of the “Million Man March” along the trails leading to the falls.

The millions of individuals that I envisioned making it to the falls the days I was there, never transpired – ironically, just like the Million Man March.

Exploring the waterfalls on the designated trails and seeing some of the surrounding area has unfortunately curdled my brain. It will from now on be hard to appreciate another waterfall again – unless someone is jumping off it. Seeing Iguazu will definitely trim my “Waterfall Expense Fund” since when there is some sort of tour to see a dinky pencil like waterfall…I will be more apt to forego it.

At the base of the Iguazu, there was a trip in which you could take a boat to bring you extremely close to the suicidal gallons of water dropping from above. For the select few who beat the odds, they received more than the 12 minute tour, such as those Americans who died in March. Supposedly the skipper of the boat had a heart attack and hit a rock capsizing the US Minnow. It sadly killed those who did not make it to an exposed rock in time.

“Did I take boat ride?” you ask. Please…don’t asking silly questions. The only injury I sustained was that my mouth tore at the seams with the smile it produce.

There seemed to be an unruly gang of Coatis running this region - a striped tailed mammal that is visually and behaviorally related to the thieving, raccoon. They effectively terrorize the park visitors, quietly waiting for the exact moment when someone was not paying attention, so that they can steal your $5,023 USD overpriced park sandwich or other edible human treats – kids are included when I say, “edible human treats”.

The infestation of these animals are so bad, that an employee had to be hired with the mental and physical strength to put fear into these rouge beasts, chasing them around with a wooden stick all day while he oversaw the cleanliness of the messy travelers.

I think it would have been more effective if he could have given the Coatis an eye washing with some mace or even set them up with some electrified food…but, what do I know…I have a degree in business and I am not anywhere near the level of the Coati Whisper.

Besides the Coatis, I was fortunate enough to see some monkeys, overgrown cat sized tailless rats and a Toucan flying in the extreme eye squinting distance.

Round and Round the bus goes…

July 7th, 2011: Round and round the bus goes, when we will stop and become legal nobody knows! A simple one hour bus ride to cross the border back into Argentina became a five hour bus ride. Asking 2 times did not put a spark in our brain-dead drivers mind as we went flying by immigration out of Paraguay and into Brazil. After all of the confusion settled, we were too far into Brazil to just get off the bus and jump on another one.

Reaching the Argentina border, we were then placed onto a bus going back to Paraguay. Finally arriving back in Paraguay, we had our passports quickly stamped and jumped on a different bus…again, heading for our original destination, Puerto Iguazu – home of Iguazu Falls.

From now on, I will have to sit closer to the driver so I can conveniently remind him every 5 minutes, until he cannot wait to kick me off the bus.

Jumped out of a moving bus with Nitros

July 16, 2011: After seeing the 2nd largest dam in the world outside Ciudad del Este, I was on the hunt for the 2nd largest dam chicken in the city, Ciudad del Esta. Since Paraguay is the second most poorest country in South America, it seems that economically challenged countries naturally contain plenty of economical roadside rotisserie chicken restaurants. They sort of complement each other. I will turn Colonel Sanders and his mutated beasts at Kentucky Fried Chicken down any day for some local home grown chicken – without the hormones.

For some odd reason, when you desire something…it is plentiful. But, when it is time to act on your desires…you can’t find it. Walking everywhere in this town, I found nothing but a place with something that resembled a dried shriveled granny chicken.

Pretty much giving up, on the bus back to my hotel, I noticed a few rows of chickens speared horizontally. Quickly telling Cecile, we somewhat quickly decided to exit the moving bus…but I did so without telling the driver. Dropping someone off moments prior…I didn’t want to bother the driver to have him stop again, so I happened to make it out the door in stunt man fashion. It seemed as if the driver just pushed the Nitrous Oxide button under his dash prior to me taking my last step off bus. I somehow landed in a forced run, inches from some raised cement pylons - potentially painful raised cement pylons. Cecile was smart enough to wait for our driver to stop.

Mental Note: Don’t jump out of a moving bus…that has Nitrous Oxide.

Can a terd freeze in your intestines…

July 5, 2011: Can a terd freeze in your intestines while still alive? This is the thought that came across my mind as I sat in the coldest room to date on my South American adventures. When you can blow smoke in your very own room without having to light anything legal or illegal, you can safely say that it is…cold. You would expect this in Antarctica, but not in Paraguay.

I ask the man at the reception desk for a heater - a word that I even looked up to make sure I didn’t mess my request up. He responded, shaking his head up and down, saying something I did not quite understand…but, the up and down motion he made was the international sign for, “yes”. Looking up the word “blanket” just to make sure he didn’t say, “blanket,” it assured me that the word I didn’t understand was definitely not, “blanket”. When he came and knocked at my door about 20 minutes later, I held in a massive hit of cold air…opening the door…standing there, he was holding a big stack of…”more blankets.”

The local coffee shop ended being my emergency shelter during my visit to Encarnacion. I officially thank them that I will not yet be an amputee prematurely due to frostbite.

A few months ago I hiked with Jesus…today I saw Jesus

July 5, 2011: About 6 months ago in the Lakes district of Chile I met a man that looked like Jesus and hiked with him (BLOG POST: Hiking with Jesus). The past 2 days, I have been exploring the ruins of the Jesuit missions in Argentina and Paraguay and the last place I went to see, happened to be, Jesus. As with most ruins…I am glad that I saw them, but I don’t get too excited over small amounts of rubble that you have to put heavy amounts upon your imagination.

Meeting a young woman who didn’t have enough of the local currency to see Jesus after visiting the ruins in Trinidad…I exchanged some money for her so that we could all see Jesus together. Estimating her age and by what gravity has not yet done to her, I would say that she was about 20 years old. This person should be a role model for other young women that you can travel alone. But if you do decide to travel alone…you can follow her footsteps but don’t follow her actions. Such as…carrying around your laptop under your arm while exploring in a protective sleeve, or say…leave it on some stairs while you look around the ruins expecting that nobody will happily borrow it.

I am unable to give her the gift of common sense, but I did ask her if she owned a backpack for her computer hoping that it would, compute.

Would you like some Cockroach’s with your coffee?

July 2, 2011: Eating a late lunch after a 12 hour night bus to Posadas, a border town next to Paraguay, I decided to skip a solid dinner and enjoy a liquid dinner. My dinner consisted of cup of coffee, while Cecile ate an excitingly healthy salad containing loads of nasty tomatoes and green stuff at this Italian restaurant.

During Cecile’s meal, she looked up at me a bit terrified, telling me that there was something big on my arm. Looking over, it happened to be a nice sized cockroach enjoying an elevated view of the dinner table as I drank my coffee. Brushing it off onto the floor, she scurried under one of the tables. At first, I thought that the cockroach might have fell on me while this homeless man handing out cards for money. I then noticed that the cockroach’s child was looking at me, at about eye level on the wall, waving its antennas as it tried to communicate with me…perhaps upset that I interrupted its class on the art of begging from foreigners.

The rest of the evening, I happened to feel like an imaginary jungle gym for the cockroach community as my mind would falsely sense them crawling up under my pants on the back of my legs.

My two high pitched squealing backpacking lesbian roommates…

July 2, 2011: I have a feeling that I might have been traveling for so long I am having a hard time distinguishing the difference between traveling and living. One week has passed and not much feels mentally different from here (Argentina) or there (United States) – besides the native language being Spanish and that I had two high pitched squealing backpacking lesbian roommates, I so happened to walk in on the other day while they were performing a metallic bond under the pile of blankets in my dorm room.

Traveling with a lot more clothes now than before my break, I find that I am wearing the same stuff even more now than before. It has been over one week and I am still wearing the same pair of pants and socks (miraculously passing the smell test) and just changed into my second t-shirt two days ago (which unfortunately for others, didn’t pass the smell test – even after day one). Being the excellent problem solver that I am, I changed deodorant and the problem was fixed – maybe – just maybe, I should use this example to show my problem solving abilities during an interview when I decide to get back to the workforce.

From now on, I should be getting at least 5 days wear out of each shirt – reducing labor and reducing the harmful chemicals that are emitted into the environment every time an item is washed, thus reducing my carbon print –blah – blah – blah. For everyone who knows me…yes, I am lying…it is more about the cost of someone washing my clothes.

“You are a strong leader,” she whispers in my ear.

June 29, 2011: “You are a strong leader” she whispers in my ear. Truth or Lie? I am not sure, but it made me feel good as I would step on my partner’s feet with my wide mammoth shoes as I attempted to perfect my infantile tango skills after finally making out of the Atlanta airport. Now back in Buenos Aires, I am ready to get readjusted to tramping around South America.

The others 35 individuals, who were not taking Tango classes and actually performing the vertical Tango, seemed to be a…unique crowd. I am not going to mention the anorexic looking prostitute with a leather mini skirt, but I will be happy to mention the Asian woman who might have been a retired bar-girl from South East Asia who is now working her trade, picking up older men while supporting a one piece red short puffy miniskirt with a hoodie. When she would raise her arms the air she would give all of us a free peep show, seeing her complete black non-granny panties. Okay…a slight exaggeration…92% of her black non-granny panties. Thank goodness she shaved!