176,924 penguins – excluding the 12 dead decomposing ones

February 9th, 2011: Taking a extremely large zodiac on steroids, I with which a bunch of other camera touting tourists to Magdelena Island right outside Punto Arenas – a towns name that make me think, “ Punto Anus” every time I say it or type it. I left Argentina and came back into Chile just to see these penguins. On an official government pamphlet in which I was given by the park ranger upon entering the natural monument, read that there was something like 65,543 penguin couples.

How in the – how in the…heck, do they know there are 64,543 couples?! What about the single parents, widowers, divorcees, bachelors, bachelorettes and kids? The tour agency seemed to tell me conflicting information saying there was over 180,000 penguins - though was much better than only identifying the couples, but still…180,000 penguins? Needing to know the true number of penguins, I thought I should do thorough recount…counting only 176,924 penguins – which includes the 2 that were Siamese twins counting them as 4 penguins and excluded the 12 dead decomposing ones.

Through my observations most penguins are well mannered in front of others unlike dogs, monkeys or those human couples at Santiago’s spit guzzling park. I on this island I happily didn’t see any penguins performing any copulation – meaning no public monkey style or doggy style shows…even though thinking about it makes me laugh with their paddle like hands not being able to do much except for perhaps a little spanking here and there.

Being told before leaving to the island to expect a rough ride (the captain later telling me 3 to 5 meter waves/swells were common) I needed to choose my boat wisely. Picking what looked like the nicest zodiac out of the two to choose from, I noticed after boarding the boat that the people in the other boat actually had to put life preservers on – thinking that I must have picked the better boat since our captain must have had enough confidence in his boat for the 45 minute boat ride on the Strait of Magellan to get us there.

Seeing all the penguins here made me feel like I was robbed on the island, Chiloe which is also in Chile - making the big effort a few weeks back to reach that place to see penguins. In Chiloe, I saw more penguins made in China being sold as souvenirs than what I actually saw. After today, I will never have to go out of my way to see another penguin colony again…except for perhaps the animated one in the cartoon, “Happy Feet,” but no more than that.

A 8 year old child wielding a handgun at the border

October 8th, 2011: Today in customs while crossing the border back into Chile, an 8 year old was wielding around a black handgun – a black plastic toy gun to be more precise, but it looked like a black gun. Pointing it at others he would pull of a few imaginary rounds every so often at the people standing around. This was all taking place while some other kids seemed to be quite resourceful in the long lines, turning the giant x-ray machine back rollers into a human slide while I think that its real purpose was to examine everyones baggage for fruit smugglers.

Customs seems to be serious about outside fruit from entering the country…but what about black handguns? I hope this doesn’t give any arms dealers any bright ideas but this wouldn’t be a bad idea if you needed to pass a shipment through…just give a school bus load of kids some unloaded handguns. But most importantly…make sure their parents didn’t pack the kids any fruit in their lunch boxes if you want to make sure they make it across the border without any problems.

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

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.

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.

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?”

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.

The motion picture, “Yeast Me”

December 27th, 2010: I came to the conclusion that I must seek help…psychological help. It didn’t take a doctorate to figure this out either. It was all drawn up in the simplicity of what I have been selecting to eat. Today I had to make a decision that should have been an easy decision. I had a choice…McDonalds for dinner or Christmas bread (similar to its distant cousin, fruit cake). I must note to my readers that I should not be seeing another McDonalds for at least 2 months and this decision was much too easy for me, for I chose the Christmas bread. I must be sick…really sick. It is not like the bits in it are even fruit.

There was a movie made in the US named “Supersize Me” about a guy who attempted to eat McDonalds for 30 days straight and wimped out toward the end due to his health collapsing. I wonder how successful a movie would be if it was called, “Yeast me” - hmm…I will need a little work on the title but it will be the same concept. I will eat Christmas bread for 30 days straight and someone can record it on video. Anyone want to invest some money for this possibly blockbuster?

The more the bloodier…

December 27th, 2010: I been in a dorm room for the past few days that has 8 beds which is now filled beyond capacity, forcing me to share my bed with others. How many others? I don’t quite know. I am currently in the process of executing all of these freeloaders before they suck me dry.

The freeloaders are small and must have been fighting a battle for quite some time as I see all the old blood stains on my sheets making the white sheets look as if they were polka dots. I am now sustaining only a few injuries but it looks like it will be a long battle with these…bed bugs.

Not thinking it was a big deal…the first day I found out about my guests, I just pressed them up against the sheets forcefully expelling the blood they withdrew the night before, instantly killing them. I must keep misssing a few since they seem to keep showing up again, night after night.

Other people checked into the hostel today and it is now 2am and they are all runing around the room literly freaking out, pulling back the sheets on all the beds, catching the bed bugs as they quietly wait to do a surprise attack. Thinking about it now…I just might get what I want – to travel with others, wether I like it, or not.

(Self-modified Nursery Rhyme)
Good night, sleep tight
Don’t let the bed bugs bite
If they bite, bite them back
Then they won’t bite tomorrow night

One of the great joys of the Christmas holidays...

December 24th, 2010: I have eaten some unusual stuff during this trip and some might even think what I put in my mouth is outright wrong, such as the time I had the fetus soup in Colombia. But, the past few weeks I have acquired a taste for something much worse…Christmas bread. Yes, the bread that can last for up to 4 months which contains a healthy amount of fruit and nuts to keep your body strong.

I have managed to go through a whole loaf in the past 2 days and I am now diligently working on my second loaf with no end in sight. If I can only manage to make more space in my backpack I could live off the stuff till at least…Spring (US).

My Santiago layover

December 22nd, 2010: Staying at my friend Daniella’s for almost the past two weeks it has been a wonderful reminder on how nice it is to spend time with a friend for more than a few days and to be around a real live family. In the process I lost my Yatzee Chilean Championship Title to her Dad who consistently rolled dice as magician. I will have to set this behind me and move forward, either perfecting an undetectable way to cheat, or…just accept that dice games are all about chance.

From seeing a huge concert with musicians dressed like overgrown sperm to backcountry camping, throwing a football around – deep breath – seeing a ballet and wine tasting at my favorite Chilean winery, it was all great. One of (only one) of the best parts of this was the simplicity of lounging around a functional house. I could not have asked for anything more - almost anything more.

Santiago was a great layover to do some well needed internal repairs, refreshing my mind as I now head out to the Pacific Ocean to find myself a good spot for my most favorite holiday, Christmas.