Large amount of blood loss…

November 14, 2011:  I was woken up at 3:30am at my hostel in Paraty by a mosquito that infiltrated my protective net, eating me as would a black widow would eat her loved one.  Taking a large amount of blood loss, it would be nice to now know my blood type in case I needed to make an emergency trip to the hospital.  I had just enough strength to turn on my headlamp to locate the son of a…beast.  After several failed attempts, I was finally able to smash her frail body between my two elongated fingers.

I don’t know if this is a precursor to what is about to come when I visit the Pantanal but later in the day I was again attacked by mosquitoes but this time it was in the bathroom as it seemed to be a kamikaze suicide mission of multiple squadrons.  About 30 of them went airborne coming at me from all directions.  Getting backed up into the corner it was either “shight” or “flight.” 

I needed to go to the restroom so there was no option but to stay, smacking my hands in the bathroom consecutively so many times, the people outside probably thought I was reliving a childhood nursery rhymes, “Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker’s man.”  At the end of the battle, my hands looked as if I got into a fight by when seeing all the blood that was on them - assuming this was the blood of the mosquitoes’ previous victims arses as they would sit down on the toilet and get sodomized. 

The Turdler Strikes!

August 1, 2011: 2 out of the 3 public toilets at my hostel were marked by the Turdler. I don’t know if the person does it to make a statement or some mental condition. He/she or shehe/heshe must have been doing toe touches while defecating to get it that high up on the once shinny white porcelain like that. This might be a good day for the maid to call in sick or come to work drunk.

The travelers here are quite talented and impressive…really impressive.

The sad thing is that I was thinking about going upstairs to get my camera so I could take a photo to show you…but thankfully for you and the mental trauma you might have sustained, I didn’t want to wake up my 3 roommates that have a sleeping schedule like 6 year olds.

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.

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.