Jessica Milnes

Like a Lemming...

2012-02-09T12:59:00.000-08:00

I always think of Lemmings when I travel. Following the person in front of you amlessly, not sure where I am going, or if it is the right way, then BOOM, I'm there, well, somewhere.

Airports are a launching ground to so many stories. Watching all the people funnel through security, looking around... some prepare before they get to the table, well as much as you can, then it's the hurry up and wait.... it feels like being at the starting block waiting for the gun to go off. Then it's your turn, I want my shoes to come off last because but I want them to go on first, so the tub dance of getting your tubs lined up so I can get things on in order. But the guy behind you put his tub on before you even got your bag on. So the friendly smile and the patience you channel to find your zen state starts to feel challenging when a TSA employee barks orders at you when you are already doing your very best. What will this system become, will it change? Will they make a conveyor belt with built in tubs, oh that sounds heavenly...
Lets talk about people... You can sometimes guess the destination of a flight based on the dress of the people at the gate. It sounds a bit 'judgy' but it's pretty true. Natural looking, worn clothes, heavy clothes, nothing name brand, unless it's carharts.... Alaska!
Down or Rain Jacket, running shoes, chacos, natural colored pants, maybe a long skirt, Pack west. The Miami airport brought a different dressing beast to the table I am not familiar with. High heels, and I'm not talking about a little lift, I'm talking the 8 inch (not sure if that is accurate because I don't wear heals) but holy cow, these girls just look uncomfortable every step, I kind of want to walk beside them or next to them and keep my hands up to help protect them if they fall, or offer them a bandaid, or foot soak cause they look in pain, which makes them walk weird, which makes them look silly, which really just makes the whole concept of wearing heels a waste, well heels that tall anyway.
There was this one girl who had on a BRIGHT orange sweater and blue shoes with pink laces. Yes, her bag she was carrying were the exact same colors... coincidence? I think not!
A bright blue sweater, blue capri sweats, a the exact same color of Toms shoes.
These are all just observations, I mean, I had a 6 hour layover for crying out loud!

As I slept on the one lonely bench in the long walkway between terminals, I thought, 'home is where I lay my head'... so I tried to get as comfortable as I could and cuddled up with my bag and slept for a couple hours, when else to do you selep on a bench in a public place, seeems like it.

Flying over Cuba doesn't suck!

Don’t forget the “other” 99 percent

2012-01-13T18:24:00.001-08:00

Every day we hear about the Occupy protests, and the 99 percent. People march in the streets, holding signs about health care and jobs and lost homes. I don’t want to minimize the hardship that people in this country experience, but after participating in health care in Chad, I realized that in some people’s eyes, many of us more closely resemble the one percent.

I volunteered in an African hospital for a month, and when I returned, friends asked, “How was your trip?” When I tried to answer, I was always flooded with emotion. The thing I learned is this: Not many people live the way we do. That’s why it’s so hard for us to understand how others live.

Having been to a number of low resource countries, I have seen poverty, but Chad is one of the poorest of the poor. I’m not referring to poverty in small pockets in the city, or in rural communities. It’s infectious, and immense.

I lived with a family in a small village, and they were considered rich because they had a door and a metal roof over their hut. The toilet was a hole in the ground, and taking a “shower” meant fetching a bucket of water from the well and bathing while squatting on bricks.

From day one I was on the front lines of the “emergency department,” in a hospital that contained only one sink. Even though I’m only a student nurse, I was given serious responsibilities because the staffing was so inadequate. I served as scrub nurse for the head surgeon, who had been the janitor for 26 years before 'working his way up'. I helped with a foot amputation, mastectomy, cesarean section and other surgeries. I even delivered some babies!

I fell asleep nightly to the sound of drums and people talking and chanting to rhythms and language I had never heard before. The Sub-Saharan desert is a vast place that made me feel so small. Death surrounds the people of Chad and it is apparent in the lack of water and food, and the prevalence of disease. Malaria takes the lives of so many family members and friends, and surviving is on everyone’s mind. I met a boy who was 15 and whose name meant “next to die.” His three older brothers had all died by the age of two.

Gaining global awareness is a journey that never stops. My month in Chad was filled with deep sadness and joy, along with new understanding gained by asking people about themselves, and listening. I’ve spent a lot of time in developing nations, and I was surprised that I still have room to gain new perspectives about the developing world. But when I was able to have face-to-face encounters with people who told me about their families, lives and dreams, I was struck by a growing sense that we are truly citizens of the world. When my friends hear about my trip and say, “Wow, I could never do that,” I think, “How can we not?”

Jessica Milnes is finishing her Nursing degree in Portland, Oregon. She has led adventure travel expeditions and served as a volunteer in North and South America, Africa and Europe. She can be reached by
email: info@jessicamilnes.com
phtography website: www.jessicamilnes.com
blog: www.jessicamilnes.blogspot.com

Reflections of Chad

2012-01-13T18:20:00.000-08:00

I have been to 19 countries, unless you count the ones I've been to each time, then 24. Some for several months, some for a day, (ok, just Myan Mar and Ethiopia for a day). Some of these places like Bolivia, Peru, Cambodia are so poverty stricken, and because the most time I have spent out of the US has been in Bolivia and Peru, I thought I'd be prepared for Chad.
    I was told by several Doctors that is was the poorest place they had ever seen, they too had been to 3rd world, or developing nations, even in Africa, but NOTHING compared to Chad.
    I'm asked, "How was your trip?" I am flooded with emotion, and depending on who's asking steers my response. I'll say "great, how are/was...." and redirect the conversation back to them, not really convinced they want to hear about my trip. Other's get the raw truth, and some a sweet combo... it's kinda like a dance, and I am not the leader in these conversations, unless the questioner wants me to flood them with information.
    Chad? Well, it's the poorest place Iive ever seen. Not just poverty in small amounts, pockets in the city, or in rural communities. It's infectious and everywhere. I don't think I saw a representation that resembled anything less then extreme poverty. It wasn't like some villages I've been in where there are 5-15 families that live there and after a week you kinda know everyone. There were thousands of people even in the smaller town 6 hours south of the capital.
    I can't help but compare what I saw (or didn't see) to other places. Bolivia and Peru is so beautiful. I sat in this women's small hut high in the mountains, she had invited us in to chew coca leaves, as I entered I knocked my head on a carcus and she giggled a toothless smile. He clothes were hand made from the yarn she had spun from the wool she had cut from the llamas she had raised. There were resources, water, beauty.   We looked out the space where we would think a door should be and had an amazing view of a magestic mountain and a blue lake and the bottom, it was so picturesc and magnifiscent. She told us she was Pacha Mama (mother earth) and that she owned the mountain and lake.
    I had these flash backs as I looked around and saw nothing but flat nonundulating desert as far as my eyes could see. The whole bus ride from N'djamena to Bere (6 hours) was like this. I hardly saw any trees, and no animals, because they had all been hunted. There were a few camels, some donkeys for transportation. Once in Bere I only saw a few dogs the Arabs would sometimes have hourses, some chickens, pigeons, pigs, and a donkey. Dare I say it, this place was ugly! I think of myself as a person that usually finds beauty in things, especially landscape, I know this because I get made fun of this quality periodically, but I just find nature to be so pretty. But this, the Sahara desert, wow, it's a whole other beast.
    Now lets talk food. One of the great things people talk about in the US is trying cuisines from other countries. Let's just say the likelihood of finding a Chadian restaurant anytime soon is a long shot. There was one dish that was OK if you like meat, but that seemed to only be in larger towns at a 'restaurant'.
    I lived with a family and they are considered 'rich' not to mention they eat much better if they have volunteers staying with them and what I was fed was plain white rice for breakfast. Sometimes it had a little sprinkle of some sort of tomoto paste, or left over splash of the sauce from the night before. I usually felt full because of the rice, but the lack of nutrients quickly caught up with me. I can see why there is such a problem with malnurshiment. I was so sad.

27.01.2011, flight home

2012-01-13T18:00:00.000-08:00

Do you speak English? "Yes, of course, everyone does". I'm in the Ethiopia airport now, waiting for my flight to the US. This airport is HUGE compared to Chad's largest. There are so many more white people and people speaking English feels to refreshing.
I get so conflicted with what is morally right to do. I hate getting taken advantage of and the guy at the Chad airport was definetly on the track. He wanted $10 from each of us (there were three) to get our passports stamped for us. NO WAY! I can do it myself. HE followed me for about 30 minutes sigying and saying I needed to pay. I was so frustrated.
Saying goodbye to my new Chadian Muslim, Italian, and Saudi Arabia friends.

It was dry and dusty. We flew over sand for EVER.

24.01.2011, Mission Hippopotamus

2012-01-12T08:48:00.000-08:00

Public school on my run

Mission Hippopotamus. Nice morning run, then planning to have breakfast at Bandalay at Wendy and Gary's place, That was changed to the afternoon, so I headed out with a few of the kids from my home-stay to see the hippopotamus.
Where else will kids be excited to wash laundry at the river?
Too much African sun
Great meal with the whole crew
haven't looked in a mirror since I left the US. Haven't taken a shower in anything but a bucket while I squat and pour water over me.

The night is full of music and drunk men singing and playing drums, as usual!

22.01.2011, Kalabesh bowls and Market day...

2012-01-12T08:45:00.000-08:00

This place is so beautiful and so hard at the same time. Emanual, the child with the burns and the newborn twins are hard for me emotionally, both for who they are as individuals and for who they represent. The yellow full moon rises in a warm star filled night.
ants in the night
Benzeki came this morning at 6:45 so I could get Kalabash bowls. He already bought some for me, so kind.
I walked part of the street against the flow of 'traffic' taking photos, so many people going to the market, so many stories, lives.

the twins aren't eating as much as they should, I'm afraid for them, I don't know how much to go check on them
I am so grateful for the company and giving here

it is SO loud right now, it's night, the only time I can find to write, around 8pm, there are beating drums, people singing, it seems quiet everywhere else in this hole place except 10 feet from my hut where there are about 15 drunk people. This is about everynight. They go late and the roosters start early in on waking me up
my flight is Thursday. I can't believe i'm leaving, part of me is ready, but my life here is so different than my life is in the US. there are so many questions, thoughts.

I'm tired, emotionally drained, which is showing in the amount that I am writing and the lack of depth.

20.01.2011 -Another baby-

2012-01-04T11:41:00.000-08:00

"JES-I-CA, JES-I-CA" I hear my name being called. My homestay sisters, and everyone in chad strain to say my name. They are calling me to come eat. It's 8am, I didn't sleep well, and can't believe how late it is. Normally I've been out on a 30-50 minute run/walk, 'showered', eaten, and am at the hospital by now. Oh well! I have little appetite and am grateful that every morning they serve me plain rice because I think that's all I can stomach. But of course, they mix things up and I am served some sort of salty red sauce, potatoes, carrots. Any other morning and I'd be excited. I head into the hospital with the usual crew and some new faces on my path on the way there. I get asked "what is your name" several times, but in a way where it sounds like they are throwing each word as they say it and kinda yelling it. My name is hard for them to say. I get to the hospital and hang out with Olen a bit while he does some echos. I don't know where the morning goes but it's 2 and I watch some of an amputation of most of a guys foot. I check on the twins that were born yesterday and try to get the women to breast feed, it's hard because she doesn't seem interested. the babies are MAYBE 5 pounds and they need to eat.

    Emanual, the little boy with the burns is in a lot of pain and strikes a fever, I hate to see him like this, it's so unfair. I do a hydroseal with Roland, Danae's father. It was really amazing. I've helped with a couple, but this one I made the cuts and did most of the suturing, I LOVED it!!!! I helped Danae later with a tubual. Tying the women's tubes who had the twins. It has been great to be a part of so many aspects to her health this week. I listened to the babies heart beats, helped with delivery and now this! I tried to get the babies to eat and had her family member that has been around the whole time help. The babies are sucking, but it takes a lot of work to get anything to come out of the women's breasts. I'm worried about the babies so Danae and I get a syringe and go back to her place to make up some formula. We take it over to them and sit on the floor mat with the family friend and the babies I took one and she took the other. I got the little girl sucking on my little finger and Danae would squirt in a little milk, it was working! They were eating! Benzeki popped his head in and asked Danae to come look at a women, I got the mom's friend to hold the little boy and stick her finger in, while the little girl sucked on my little pinky of my right hand, I would use my left to take turns feeding each twin. It was pretty awesome to say the least. Danae had a women give birth a little early like this women and two days later the baby died (because they weren't eating) We are trying to prevent that by force feeding them. They think because there isn't much coming out of the women's breast and the babies aren't crying that they don't need food. But the babies aren't crying because they don't have energy and the women's milk isn't coming in because her breasts aren't being stimulated, eventhough the colostrom that is coming in is SO good for the babies!
    Next thing I know a couple men are carrying a women in past us, Danae follows and says "you wanna deliver a baby?" "OF COURSE!" I answer. I make sure the twins are ok and go behind the half curtain to help. It's the girls first and she's only 8 months pregnant. Her hemaglobin count is apparently 2 and she's getting blood, but only one, they can't afford anymore. Another baby! This one eats right away and is a little bigger then the twins.
    ........

19.01.2011 -Delivered a baby!!!

2012-01-03T08:46:00.000-08:00

Today I delivered a baby!!!! I didn't feel well in the night and was fearing I had malaria. I didn't go for my run and slept until 7 when I was thinking about getting up the phone rang and Olen was on the other end telling me twins were being delievered and if I wanted I should go to Maternity. I couldn't get my scrubs on fast enough, a delivery, I was SO excited! The twins of this women are the first I listened to their heart beat on a doplar a couple days ago. How cool to go from hearing their heart beat inside her womb to seeing them come out!
I was saying good by to my homestay sisters and that I had to go to the hospital and wasn't going to eat breakfast, I was waving and ducking under a tree, I turned to leave and ran into a pile of drying bricks. I cut my finger and stubbed my toe enough to break part of my big toe nail.
It was a hurry up and wait. They didn't deliver for a while. I helped rub her back, change her position. She didn't speak French so it was hard to communicate (not that I speak French that well to begin with). The first baby was breached. Danae was a little concerned because it was her 10th baby and they were twins and the first was breached. She was loosing more blood then normal. (apparently, not like I would know what normal blood loss in a birth looks like because it was my first) A lot of time passed, several hours. Danae broke her water using a let's just say less then normal way of doing it given the resources. A bit more time passed and Doug was now in the room too. Dane checked her and turned for less then 2 seconds. Just enough time for me to look up at Danae to see what she was doing and by the time I looked back the body was half way out and Doug had swooped in to catch it. The baby came out, it was a boy, not moving or crying. I started to get worried. A few breaths and some chest compressions and he was crying. Danae said I have the next one. The head started to come and I put my hand there to catch it. Danae told me how and where to put my hands. How to turn and then there was a whole new little baby in my hands! It was a girl. I was holding her with her head down a bit and they suctioned her mouth and nose and she started to make sound. The cord was cut and I laid her on her Mom's tummy. Then I helped deliver the placenta which was HUGE and uncomfortable for the Mom. She was moved to a 'more comfortable place' putting her in the next room, which was just a curtain away and had 2 other women there. One had lost her baby a few days ago. There wasn't a mattress so the new mom sat on the floor. Someone brought in a woven mat and we put it on the bed springs and she got on the bed.

We tried to warm the babies by putting them on the mom. She was tired and didn't like me rubbing her utereous, but it was so important. I helped her breast feed even though she was reluctant. They asked what my name was and I think they are either naming the baby after me, or they want me to pick a name. I think I'll figure it out tomorrow. What an AMAZING feeling. Even thought the father was MIA after all he does have two other wives.
I also put in my first catheter, that went well.

Gave a couple shots and took an afternoon bucket bath
There was a surgery today where they were removing a kidney. I went to watch. Little did I know they kidney was as big as the baby I just just delivered... no joke!
A little kid I was worried about died last night he had contractors in his hands. Maybe tetnus.
I was walking back to my hut under the full moon and ended up behind a small group of people walking and wailing (crying) seemed like someone died.
This place is beautiful and tragic

18.01.2011 - random thoughts from the day....

2012-01-02T11:13:00.000-08:00

Child with H-Flu. Baby with candidis (thrush), women with ingorged breasts and a two month old baby that didn't look to be even a new born. Prostate surgery that needed reoperated on because he got a blood clot. Lost a LOT of blood. Saw a women who's bladder was falling out. a 17 year old who is due in May and saw her ultra sound, baby waved to us. I stitched up the skin from a prostate removal. Saw a mastecomy, it's such a barbaric surgery, Injected some pentazomine for a burn patient. Discovered that a boy who we thought was just not speaking or responding since he got here has actually been like this his whole life. Naomi was at the hospital today helping a friend and stayed to translate for a bunch of women. The women I brought the ostomy bag for came in today, her husband was SO nice! Doug helped me with my matress back to my hut. I gave him a tour of the place, he tried my dinner which I've been having everynight. La Boul and sauce. We sat outside, the moon seems close to full and talked about religion and spiritualism. I was at the hospital from 8:30 - 7:15 pm today. What a day. my feet hurt a bit. There are children playing, some weird music, crickets, and the night is warm. how can I come back here, and for longer.
I feel guilty complaining about my living situation or eating when I think of those at the hospital with non or little. or the family i stay with who sleep on the ground, all piled between two huts while I have my own hut.
This is a brain spew of thoughts... it's really the only way I can unwind and talk about my day, getting to talk to Doug about it in English was such a rare thing.

17.01.2011 -How do you not feed a baby-

2011-12-29T19:52:00.000-08:00

Today was, a day. Little bits of emotion are seeping in. My homestay mother left today because her brother died. Last night I was telling my homestay father that I was sad because a little boy died today and he said 'Ce La Vie' This is life. Whew, that's true, but man, it's rough here sometimes.
Doug let his fish loose in the well. hoping they will spawn and eat mosquito larva.
I started my day with a nice run. I didn't feel like getting out of bed... or off my cot. But once I get going I know I'll be glad I managed a cool morning sunset run through the sand paths. I visited a few of my favorite patients this morning. The kid we did the spinal tap on was still alive, although he had 5 seizures in the night. His test was positive for malaria, negative for meningitis. We are just hoping he doesn't suffer permanent brain damage. The boy who hadn't peed in 9 days but was only 12 days old was going to have his circumcision which was against the norm here, normally they are 7 years old or so. I saw the two burn patients and the boy with the healing abdomen. I rounded with Doug in Pediatrics Block and was taken by the malnurished children. I had the same words replaying in my head. HOW SIMPLE, just a little food. This one women was feeding her boy plain rice. he was so small. Maybe a year old. Benzeki was there and scolded her for not feeding him better, her husband had left them and she didn't have money. She came in hoping to get the boy some medicine and leave, but someone said he was too sick and was admitted. he had discolored skin and was SO skinny. SO SIMPLE!!!! Another malnurished boy was having contractions in his hands and his eyes were non responsive. Vitimin B defiancy. Another was 14 days old I asked he he was taking her breast milk, they said no. I asked for how long and it had been 4 days, FOUR DAYS, this baby wasn't eating!!!!!!!!!!!! I asked how long until breast milk will stop being produced and Doug said 4-7 days. Benzeki scolded her and told her right now to but the baby to her breast to see if he would eat. I left to give her some privacy, not sure why since women walk around with one boob out of their dress so the baby can feed. Although showing their knees is practically the same thing as being naked! ha!
I did rounds with Benzeki at the TB and HIV clinic, which was outside the hospital property. One women had Berkets and her neck was so swollen! Benzeki is so interested in these diseases. Compassionate, giving, kind, patient. Him and his wife Unice are amazing. He wants to study epidemiology in Washington and get his PHD hopefully, but would settle for his masters if that's was was available. Unic wants to study Psychology. They can't search the internet to see if scholarships are available because there isn't any internet here. He can't buy a modem because he doesn't make enough, it'd be half his monthly salary to buy one (he makes $200 a month). He can't take time off because the hospital won't let him.
I stop in to see the little boy who is burned so badly. (Still can't figure out his name.) He is having his wounds cleaned and is screaming and crying. I ask the nurse doing it in my broken french if he had Kedamene, he says no. I run to find Samadee at triage (the ER) he comes with me and stops the nurse saying the boy should have Kedemene, I follow him to the OR, he gives me the vial and a suringe, I go back and administer my 2nd shot. Unice was there at this time and comforted the boy as he started to cry when he saw the needle. He's so sweet, his two front teeth are missing and he has chubby cheeks and big brown doe eyes. The boy goes into lala land and Dulbay, the nurse can finish, I explain to Unice that the boy is in a happy place and she can relax.
James takes out some rods from some previous surgeries and I poke around and take a small break. There is AMAZING peanut butter here! Peanuts are good and you can pay someone to crush them, it's cheap and amazing.
I see a man with a huge swollen face, aparently it's nephrotic syndrome (again) I see a boy and a women with acites. A man that is painfully responsive from a motorcycle accident. Two men with prostate issues. One had been to 3 hospitals already, Cameroon, Chad, now he is here and can get the problem taken care of and not just an IV with fluids, Vit. B, and Quanide, like the other probably did. One man hasn't peed in a while and his bladder is HUGE. Finally a women with a fistula. She need surgery, even though James hasn't look at it, I open the OR and James tells me to to get her prepped for surgery with an IV and catheter. Before I can think twice he's gone. Sweet, haven't done either, but somehow it'll work out. She wobbles over to the OR with family members. She smells awful. I found some supplies that I think will work while rummanging around the OR. Finally Simione arrives and helps me start my first IV. We get her undressed to start the catheter, she spreads her legs and well, it's a horrible infection. James comes to look and he discovers her bladder is demolished, he could put his fingers through
there is nothing to do except start her on antibiotics and perhaps in one or two month there can be a repair surgery. For now, she just urinates everywhere because there is nothing to hold it in place.
We get her into a room and I leave feeling sad and emotional. This place isn't close to clean. Will her husband leave her? Her baby died during child birth, now this. I just keep saying the same mantra. At least she's here, at least she found the hospital and has the best care around. At least she found us.

Full days

2011-11-06T09:32:00.000-08:00

16.01.2011

I haven't written in a couple days. There is so much going on it's hard to find time where I have interest in writing on the computer. It seems so trivial after the happenings of the day.
Today.... I did rounds with James, it was good to see some of the patients that I've seen for a few days. Some I haven't seen, and a couple that I actually helped operate on. There is such a mix in the room. Burns, post op, infections, sickness, pre op, beat victim, it kinda smells. Especially when some of the dressings are taken off. I like Jame's style. he has the patient undress their dressing. This seems like the way I'd do it and have done it in the wilderness. Always try and get the patient to do as much as possible, have them be self sufficient as possible. But since nursing school, it seems like everything is done for the patient. I'm sure I'll find my niche. A couple of the post op patients are now pre op. One had a hernia repair and now there is a hematoma in his testicle and it needs removed. Another had a hydra seal and now has a mass and pain in his abdomin. James says it's possible he has the kind of hernia that could be squezzing and killing his colon. Everyone is so polite and greets you with a smile and a hand shake. One of those kinda limp one's, but it doesn't matter because their smile makes up for it. The older women that I helped repair her hernia greets me and we laugh as I say "Lapia" the Nanjeri greeting.
There is NO privacy, there is not a curtain to be pulled, or anything, penises, scrotums, breasts, they all hang out. If someone talks about a problem, everyone can hear... if they speak the right language. Dulba, one of the local nurses is rounding with James and translates what James can't get across in the fluent French he speaks, or Nanjeri, or Arabic he can get across. Where else is there a hospital that cares for people in so many languages everyday.
We move in the the Maternity ward where family members have set up camp and are sleeping on the floor next to pots of food. James asks if they would eat inside at home where they sleep, they all laugh and clean up and go out side, because of course this is ridiculous and they would never do this. I help by listening to two of the women's babies heart beats, it was so exciting, especially because one we weren't sure if there would be a heart beat.
We finish and I'm helping Dulba, one of the nurses change dressing. I am starting in with a women to take out her stitches. A couple of the patients and patient family members from across the room are pushing a young boy towards me and doing hand motions to tell me to look. He walks up to me, puts his head down and pulls down his pants. His penis is wrapped in some tape that looks kinda old and yellow. He seems to have had a circumcision. Which I had just seen a couple down a few days before and learned it's common for boys at age 7 to have them, along with a HUGE party (which my backyard neighbors had yesterday for their boy). Had I not known any of this I would have been horrified at the sight because it looked infected. I tried to clean it, but it looked pretty bad. He was in so much pain and just standing in the middle of the room where everyone could see. I get him to sit and tell Dulbai to get James or Samadi (one of the best nurses/surgen in the hospital) I think he needs an antibiotic and some pain killer. It's such a process.
This little boy is the brother of the boy with full body burns. They are both orphans and their aunt takes care of them but Benzeki and his wife pay for everything for them. I spend the next while trying to get him medicine. I go to the piedeatric bloc (building) to look for Benzeki and run into him and Doug who had just finished rounding. I ask how it went and he said this 6 year old just died and they tried CPR on him and I turn to see the mother sobing. He died of Malaria that could have been prevented had the parents excepted suggested treatment. UGGGHHHHH, I am so frustrated and sad with this situation. These kids, these people, everything is dirty.
I'm back with the little boy and his infected penis and a little boy, probably 1ish walks in a drops something, glass goes all over the floor. Of course all the patients are barefoot. He goes to pick up the glass and I scoop him up and take him out side waiting for a parent to claim him. There is some straw tied together, so I ask to borrow it from a women and sweep up what I can. TOTALLY not even close to any protocal in the US. I just can't believe this day, there is so much going on. This is just like everyday here, so much.
I go to the OR and I gave my first shot, which happens to be Ketamine. A drug used a lot here. It knocks people into lala land. James is going to remove his hematoma. The guy is making sucky and kissy faces, we chuckle a bit, I'm making sure he doesn't touch the sterile area and Simione is holding his feet. When James makes the cut into his testicle he reacts and I am holding him down the best I can. He gives a local anesthetic which helps but the kid is squirming a lot. It is so common to use this drug for procedure, but the reaction was so intense. He has to have his testicle removed, but the procedure goes well. whew! I did not like holding down this kid for a surgery.
I finally go for lunch around 2:30. Doug and James and I seemed to all be wondering in around the same time and got some left over pasta from Tammy. I felt so nurished and satisfied. Doug was going to do a lumbar puncture and I went to help, not really knowing why he was doing one. The boy is non responsive, he's not 10 years old, has an IV and won't respond. Perhaps Meningitis or Cerebral Malaria. Doug brought Corey, Tammy's 15 year old son to translate from English to French and Corey brought his friend to translate from French to Nanjeri. Sure why not bring 15 year olds into the piediatric ward to help with a lumbar puncture and translate! I roll the boy and realize he had urinated on himself and doesn't have a catheter. Oh yea, I took out my first catheter today on a women who had lost her baby during birth and had pulmonary edema and was unconcious. The father is holding the boys head and I am holding his arms and legs, hoping to hold him still if he responds to the pain of a spinal tap. Doug inserts the needle, the boy barely flinches. I am sadened that he doesn't because it means he's worse then we thought. That's a lot of pain not to react to. His eyes look serious and they well up with tears as he stares at his father. My heart is breaking. Is he in pain and just trapped? The spinal fluid isn't as cloudy as Doug would think for meningitis, so he guesses Malaria. We'll see what the lab says.
These days fly by. I wish I could do more. I sat with my homestay family and they showed me photos from past nurses/doctors who have stayed with them, we sat on the matt under the bannana trees, clear night, stars and moon. The 3 year old broke into a drum beat and the mom and oldest daughter sang a bit. We laughed as I tried to talk in French, but they always listen with intent and patience.

surgery

2011-11-06T09:22:00.000-08:00

13.01.2011

Giant swollen scrotum, elephantitis, burned face, burned body, beaten women, skinny man, cycst on head (for 10 years) whew! All before lunch.
I followed Olen and Danae on rounds this morning then watched Danae and Samedi (who had worked for 30 years at the hospital as a janitor who now is the head surgen) fix a hernia. I wasn't grossed out, so Danae let me help on the next one. (see one do one) They ran out of clean scrub gowns, so they just told me to not get too close to the table. His foot was huge (elephantitis), I was wondering what we were going to do for him, but apparently he wasn't in for that. I walked into the OR and he was sitting naked on the table and I realized his scrotum was the size of a small basketball. I had no idea what we were going to do. He had two absests on each side, so we took out the first one, Danae said we had to be careful so we didn't burst the sack otherwise fluid would go everywhere, I suctioned right when he cut a hole and it was perfect, turned it inside out and put it back. Then he did a few layers of stitches, then the skin.
The second side was more difficult. He cut a hole too big and liquid went everywhere, we managed and finished up.
I can't believe I was helping with SURGERY! Was this fair to the patient, was this fair to me. I am resolved with thinking it was better to help then not to help at this point....

First day at the Hospital

2011-04-09T15:21:00.000-07:00

12.01.2011
Not a boring moment for me today....
I made it for a run this morning! It was beautiful watching the sunrise over the subsaharan/Savanah landscape. Women dressed in colorful dresses looking so clean and put together carrying loads of logs on their heads. My short walk to the hospital was filled with kids playing in the 'street'...Today was my first day at the hospital. I was getting a tour from Benzeki. He introduced me to a few of the staff. Apparently they were all expecting me and it was such a welcoming kind greeting. We walked through the first building where the Pharmacie was and across the courtyard to the waiting area for the triage center. There is a line of benches and it seemed full. We walked in and went into a room, which was a hand made curtain strung up in a small space smaller then my room while I'm here. 5 by 8 maybe. This child was laying on the table covered up. I couldn't see well as there were 6 Chadians crowded around him, his face had some pink tissue showing. I didn't know what I was looking at, then the cloth was pulled away and I realized he was laying naked, his skin all around his genitals looked the same, his chest, his hand was deformed, he was burned. Picking up a pot of soup it spilled. Parts of his skin looked like lava that had been moving and then cooled. His skin had melted and dripped!!! I have never seen a burn victim in real life. His skin was cool to the touch and his arm was stiff. We were afraid of him getting incased in his own skin. Olen told me if it was the states he would be tubed and life flighted out to a burn unit immediately. Afraid that the burning around his mouth and neck would cause him to stop breathing. They got saline going and took him away to cover him in the little zinc, or something they had and of course needed more. I heard later he was seizing, but didn't see him again.
Maybe tomorrow I'll go check on him....

I ended up in the triage 'ER' where I was brining people in and taking their vitals. It was hard on so many different levels. I could hardly pronounce people's names to call them back, and few people spoke French. They had translators which was funny because I wasn't speaking much French at all, but as the day went on I was speaking more. Arabic or Nanjuri were the common languages today, lots of sherads and smiles. One Arab man was so pleased with me that he offered to give me a chicken as a thank you for taking such good care of him!A man came in wanting me to come outside, he pointed to the motorcycle, I walked over and a women lay on the ground not responding, with a fabric wrapped around her head. No head injury that was visable, but apparently she was beaten by her husband and her head hurt and she wasn't saying much, moaning and saying mama. Olen thought she may have internal bleeding in her head and perhaps could have broken vertebrae, but their was no way to tell for either, so treat for both (sorta).
Oh gees! this place! A girl comes in to be seen and she had 5 men with her. Family was big to support. Although it was strange to see parents not REALLY concerned big time about their little ones. i suppose with such a high death rate they may grow to except it more.
Saw two cases of malaria, weighed a baby that peed all over me, took a TON of vitals, sedated a little girl with a drug Ketamine, that normally in the states she'd be hooked to all sorts of machines, but here just shot up and then I could pluck the mango that she had stuffed up her nose out with tweezers after the father blowing on her mouth trick failed. Yes the little girl was wearng a little pink snow suit and it was about 85 degrees out!
A girl removing her head cover had a cyst the size of a tennis ball will have surgery tomorrow.
at one point I looked at my watch and it was 10:30, the next thing I know it was 1:30 and Danae was saying I should get lunch. That happened around 3pm. I went back and helped out for a bit more and ended up eating again with Danae and Olen....
I liked my day :)

50th Anniversary!!

2011-03-06T09:44:00.000-08:00

11.01.2011

"Let's meet at 8ish to go to the parade, then we'll make rounds at the hospital." That was the plan for my first day here. What really happened? Glad you asked!!
Today 01-11-2011 Chad celebrated it's 50th year of independence from France. There were celebrations all day, and man alive this was a HUGE deal!We walked over to the open space to watch the parade, thinking we were a little late, which would mean in Chad, we were on time. There wasn't anyone there, soon we were approached and asked to come up to the stage, this would be our viewing point for the festivities. About an hour later, everything had started and we were in with the who's who of the town. It was so strange to be sitting with all the the most important people, like the mayor, the superficio, and a bunch of other's, just because I was from the US, and hanging with the Dr.'s.We watched different school groups perform dances, tribal groups celebrating, the Arabs racing around on their horses, yes, one person got trampled, but they must have been OK, because we didn't see them at the hospital. There was a women that kept going into the center and yelling, then getting kicked out. There were some locals in American Red Cross vests that made me feel like I was looking at a 1930's photo. This was amazing, I was loving all the celebrating, dancing, just wish I could speak one of the 3 languages I kept hearing, French, Arabic, or Nangeri (a local dialect).The festival didn't start until it was scheduled to be over and the length was about twice as long as the program indicated, so to say the least we were spending our day at the festival! One of my favorite parts was when a little girl, no more then 10, got a turn at the microphone, Olen translated her French speech as she said "We can be ANYTHING! A girl can be a guard, a doctor, ANYTHING!" She had so much spunk, I loved it, and gave me chills!
We were invited to a dinner party at the mayors house that afternoon. We ate at the most important table, it was so weird! We all sat outside under some trees, there were a few low tables with plastic chairs around them and another area to the side with a large blanket for the "less important." They served us first and with the largest plates. We ate family style, with a large plate filled with different foods as we ate with our hands. The second in line to the superficio is a women, she came to sit by me and we laughed as I tried to speak some french, it was mostly me nodding and smiling as she spoke to me. I could sometimes understand a little, then I'd look to Olen or Danae for some guidance. She put both her hands on my face and said how beautiful I am, it was so sweet and tender, it felt like this wise old aunt that was taking good care of me, it felt nice and warm. We talked about how she gets her dresses made and where she gets her fabric, it was a nice day.It got dark and the day had ended, still no hospital, I was a little bummed I didn't get to at least see the place, but there is time, I'll go tomorrow morning. I'm surprised at how much depth this place has. I was also floored at the amount of people that attended the festival! There were thousands, you wouldn't think this area was so populated from looking around.
What is in store for tomorrow?..... so excited! :)

Sweating at night

2011-02-13T09:08:00.000-08:00

10.01.2011

I'm sweating, but only in the armpits! It's a beautiful clear night, the temperature is perfect and I'm on the back of a motorcycle going the last 45 Km (takes an hour on the sandy road at night). I have one of my small duffles tied to the back of this bike, and the other duffle is on the back of Pierre's bike. My home-stay father. Benzeki, is sweet and all smiles, he asks if I'm OK, I reply "Ce va". It's a sandy dirt road and the dust is thick. We can only see a short distance ahead with the beam of light from the motor cycle. We swerve and the wheel gets wobbly, I hold on and think really hard that we'll be OK and he regains control of the bike and we both laugh. "Whew, tres bonne!" I say and he laughs. Then he tells be that its the first time he has taken this route by night, not two minutes later a bike comes the other way and it's really dusty now, then he says. in an urgent voice "take off my glass!" WHAT?!?!?!? I think! Then he says it again... I reach around and take them off asking if he wants them cleaned, as I try to clean them one of the lenses pops out and I catch it (yes we are still on the bike). Did I mention I'm sweating a little more right now? I think about how my mother would officially disapprove of this scene and I just kept giving faith to Benzeki that he would get me to Bere safely.
I started my day at 8 am when Tchib Chang and Faka picked me up. We went to Tchib Chang's house where I met his father and a lot of his family. We walked through the side streets that were not paved and littered with trash. We were on a mission to find the police station to get my passport in order. Apparently just a visa isn't enough here. I have to take passport photos and my passport and fill out a document before I can go anywhere. This process takes a while. Not the actual process, but the process of getting there. Finally it's time to catch my bus, the boys had said there were buses all day to Bere. I figured they would know, they live there! Alas, there were not. There was one to Kelo, a town 'nearby' the buss left at noon, so we loaded my bags and got some lunch before my departure. I found my seat on the small hot bus and we were off. It was going to take either 4 or 6 hours, depending on who I asked. We were stopped once by the police and they had most of the people get out of the bus one of the guards got on the bus while I was trying to get out. Being the only one person I had seen in over 24 hours at this point, I pretty much stick out. the guard found out I was American and it was all smiles and laughs after that. He told me to sit down and said some other things I didn't understand, but I just nodded and smiled and laughed with him

A Chadian on the bus in a suit asked where I was from and was helpful in finding me a toilet at one of our stops, or should I say asking where I can go and getting a family to let me use their 'toilet' which was just standing behind a wall. At another stop he got some food and I got a coke, then he paid!!! This was amazing! The last stretch of the bus ride the kid in front of me puked and it was running back toward me. Luckily I was over the wheel so my feet were up, but the girl next to me was less then thrilled. I gave the boy a plastic bag so if he had to puke more he had a place to do it and some bread to eat to calm his tummy.

After being received in Kelo and taking the motor bike to Bere I finally met Olen, Danae and Lyol. They came out to greet me and it felt so good to arrive. I was taken to Pierre's house and met by his eleven children and one wife. Benzeki kept repeating, "eleven children, ONE wife." I thought this was strange but kept smiling and nodding. They let me into my very own hut and helped me get my mosquito net hung, then I went back to the hospital grounds where Olen and Danae have a small house to join them for dinner. We are all the same age and I enjoyed chatting with them. Lyol, who's almost 2 was sweet and we became fast friends. I gave them the goodies I brought over from the US, and they were thrilled with the Ostomy bags. Apparently the women's husband came by earlier in the day to see if I had arrived yet. I've never seen anyone so excited about a $5 toilet seat!!! Truthfully I was a bit jealous they had a flushing toilet (with a seat) while I had a whole in the ground back at my hut. But they were kind to offer to let me use their seat if I needed. :)

This place is rural. I fell asleep to drums in the distance, a donkey breaking into it's horrible heee-haaaws, and people talking. It's warm, but seems to cool off during the night. People have been so friendly. This is good, it's going to be good!
I am excited to see what it looks like in the daylight and see what this time will bring me!

Bonne Nuit!!

Arriving in Chad.... barely

2011-02-10T14:58:00.000-08:00

Arriving in Chad is just PART of the battle

Thank goodness in this world for good friends! I'd like to give a shout out to Sara and Jen. Both transport and hostess godesses!

I ended up with a day layover in DC and spending it with my dear friend Jen and celebrating her birthday. What are the chances that an annoying change in flight could work out so well?!
Saturday morning I woke up to snow on the ground.... if it were Portland, or Seattle I was flying out of, I would have been worried, but DC could handle it. I got the whirl wind drive by tour of the Lincoln Memorial, Washington Monument on the way to Dulles airport. Bringing up the thoughts of how pristine, clean and sought after this area is. I felt lucky.
At Ethiopian Airlines ticket desk I found myself feeling really self conscious. I felt odd that of all the people in line behind me I was approached twice by two different women travelers asking questions about checking in. I realized I was one of about 4 caucasians standing in a line of 50ish people and was blown away at how quickly I became the minority. I wondered if they asked me because I too was a women traveling solo, or because I was white, or both....I saw a couple in front of me with a load of bags and a folded stroller. A boy not 2 years old was running around and I kept thinking it was their child. Then, I realized he belonged to another women. "Hmmmmm" I thought wondering why they had an empty stroller "ohhhhh, they must be going to adopt a child!" There was a combination of satisfactory for figuring out this question and excitement for them. Then I wasn't sure if I should be irritated with myself that I assumed that just because we were flying into a developing nation they must be adopting. Would I have been so quick to assume that if we were on the Seattle to DC portion of the flight?
I ended up with the only seat on the WHOLE plane that had the TV not working. the plane was pretty large and REALLY full. Ironically I ended up in some strange seat next to a stretcher, something I have never seen on a flight before. I thought how fitting this was.

Arriving in Ethiopia was magical. The plane was predominantly people from Ethiopia, and I never have heard a plane get so silent and see so many people trying to look out the window. I could feel the pride and excitement in the atmosphere.

The landscape was beautiful, I just kept thinking.... I'm looking at Africa, I'm in Africa!!!! We touched down and the people applauded.Getting off the plane in Chad was a whole new experience. We walked outside and it was dusty and windy. The airport was small and there was even a smaller propel plane with cloth covers over the blades. There were men lounging waiting for other to arrive in full Arabic outfits (and I am horrible because right now I don't know what they are called).

I realized sometime on the flight that I was one of few females, probably the youngest one, and the only white one. I was told a taxi driver that Olen and Danae trusted would meet me at the airport. I walked through the doors and a man came up saying "Jessica?" I said yes, then, when he took my hand with such a soft touch but rough hands, it felt to good to be taken care of. He took me to an official and they filled out my immigration form, cut me through the lines, and I walked straight through, I got my bags and we walked out into the sun and dust. There was another two guys that they handed me over to. These were the guys I was really supposed to meet. Before we did ANYTHING the one in charge Tchib Chang called Olen so I would know he was logit. We spent a while at a hotel and I spoke to an Italian couple and watched as a group of italian men arrived whom I had met at the airport. Of course I don't speak Italian and the men spoke zero English, it was all smiles and one or two words that somebody knew and a whole lot of laughs.An hour later we realized the hotel was full. So on to the the next hotel... closed! The third, closed, fourth times a charm here in Chad. I think I'm the only foreigner here. Its not very nice but I am getting to lay horizontal which is AMAZING!
My new found friends really took care of me. We went to the market to exchange money and they sandwiched me. Always making sure Facka was in front and Tchib Chang in back... at one point he said "I do good because I was soldier" Very sweet and has really looked out for me, I felt like a long lost friend, or sister or something. I saw people riding camels on the side of the rode and my eyes bugged out and they laughed at me. Since the first hotel that was booked, I haven't seen anyone that even closely resembles a traveler. It has been only Chadians as far as the eyes can see.

One part in the market, I was walking past a couple young boys, one looked up and we smiled, but he quickly looked away to get his friend or brother and get him to look at me. I was definitely the only female I could see that wasn't dressed like the others. I felt like I was in one of those sesame street songs of which one is not like the others. OBVIOUS!!
Dinner was tough as well, we went to two 'restaurants' in the states we'd call it a 'hole in the wall' (but this is WAY worse then anything I've ever seen). It's Sunday, and apparently tomorrow is a big celebration. We found a place and I was informed people in Chad eat with their hands, so I better wash up. With no soap of course, but a huge drum of water. It's so dry, dusty and sandy. I felt like I shouldn't be washing my hands and wasting water it's so dry which was a strange feeling, but non the less I washed up.Dinner was long soft French style baguettes, plates of a salty seasoned meat, some chicken, onions, and some REALLY hot dipping sauce! we broke the bread to use to scoop up the meaty sauces, it was delicious. They asked if I liked avocado and I think my smile gave away my answer. I thought we were getting some, then a HUGE mug with light green stuff appeared in front of me. Blended avocado, sugar, and either ice cream or ice... either way I was a little uneasy about water that I'm sure wasn't purified in any way.
We played 'pass the pigs' to pass the time while we sipped our dessert. They walked me back to my place and made sure everything was fine. Made sure I locked my place and if ANYONE knocked, not to answer, and to lock myself in. All-in-all I feel safe, just an outsider which draws attention. I wonder if they are just as curious about me as I am about them. The clothes, food, everything is so different then how we live, and I am so different then how they dress.
This is the poorest capital city I have EVER seen. I think I saw one paved road. The 'big' market isn't very big. It's sandy, and I didn't see any two story buildings, let along even one nicer looking one.
Tomorrow bus ride to Bere after getting my national id taken care of with the police.... not to worry, standard procedure.

Travel to Chad

2011-01-06T21:42:00.001-08:00

CHAD.....
"Is that in Africa?" Is the most common question I have been getting when I say where I am going, or what I'm doing for the month of January. Otherwise called J-term at Linfield College where I just finished my first semester of nursing school. I found a hospital in the 'bush' of Chad as the doctors there call it. I'll be meeting up with Olen an ER doc, and wife Danae an OBGYN with their almost two year old little boy Lyol. They are just starting their rotation at the remote hospital and seem excited for my arrival. We are all the same age and I am excited for this learning experience for sure!
I had requests for a variety of supplies including; a toilet seat, ostomy bags... for the women who just had a colostomy and doesn't have any bags. (means her colon was re-routed so it comes out of her skin somewhere on her stomach her fecal matter comes out when it's ready). NOT pleasant to say the least!
Baby wipes, deodorant, batteries, it's BYOG (Bring your own gloves) so I have loads of those and the biggest bottle of hand sani I have ever seen!
The plane while I'm there is to live with a local family. Eat breakfast and dinner with them and lunch at the hospital. They are excited to teach and mentor me as much as I'm interested. It seems like they see different illnesses and emergencies, TB, Malaria are big there, but I'm all up on my shots and have Malaria meds and a mosquito net, so hopefully I'll steer clear of anything nasty!
Getting there is the major battle of this month my airline ticket says my flight (+2 days) so on the calendar it's 3 days of just the flight part. Not to mention getting to and from the airport.
I fly Seattle-DC-Ethiopia-Chad. it's about 26 hours of flight time. Once I arrive in N'Djamena, the capital I was told I'd be greeted by one of several people, including something about a person that may mention cheese, if they do this, and say their name is Sara, it's OK, or if they are a Taxi driver and mention the hospital, they are OK to go with as well... basically any number of people that may know something, kinda like a secret code. Then they may or may not take my passport to get a national pass from the police, then I can stay in one of several hotels that are gross, a little gross, or $200 a night. The next day at 10am I will take the one bus to Bere that will be over loaded with passengers and take about 6 hours and be hot and uncomfortable. When I arrive there are no paved roads, no bus stop, but if nobody is their to greet me from the hospital, just ask "hopital?" and someone will point me in the right direction.
To someone who hasn't traveled to a developing nation I could see where this all would sound like EXTREME traveling or something, but well, I just know I'll be hot, exhausted, and uncomfortable, but as long as I just settle into the rhythm, these sorts of 'systems' work themselves out more often then not. So here I go, trusting that if I just keep moving on to the next portion of this journey, I'll eventually get to Chad and to the hospital.
Thanks for reading
Jess :)

Llampu trek to the Jungle we go!!!!

2009-10-03T13:43:00.000-07:00

Today is a big day…. Students are coming out of their homestays and are meeting at the program house this am for a day of trek planning and prep! They will take on more responsibility in planning for food and gear and doing a BIG food shop today in the Saturday market.
We head out tomorrow morning for the Llampu circuit just outside of town. Our trek Oct 4-12 trekking… we plan on leaving from Sorata and doing most of the Llampu circuit trek going the ‘reverse’ way that most guide books describe. Our first night we will camp near Laguna San Francisco at about 4,6000 meters. Making our way to Ancoma, then descending to the jungle… (9 days, with a layover day for solo).

We will arrive in the town of Gaunay. On the 12th and have a layover day to shower hopefully post a yak, and treat ourselves to icecream food, then leave the 14th to descend the Rio Beni (a river) taking two nights and traveling by boat during the day and stopping to visit waterfalls a rubber tapper, and doing hikes in the jungle. We will arrive in Pilon Laja’s the 16th where we will spend a week with a couple communities doing service. This will really be a challenging place. Hot, humid and very different living conditions. We plan to help with an aqueduct system here for clean drinking water. The 24th of October we’ll head down to a larger town of Rurre to regroup, rest, and food shop for our time in Tocana.

To say the least we will be on the road and in extremely rugged areas. The varied climate from the high mountain air to the hot humid jungle will be a drastic change, but so interesting to compare and contrast and to slowly realize our changes because we will be walking through it. We hope to have internet access in Gaunay October 12 or 13 and again when we get to Rurre the 24th or 25th.
We will update when we can as we will be anxious to share our experiences! Knowing communication will be few and far between will be a big change from our recent time in Sorata.

Thanks for reading
Jess ;)

Birthday´s Galore

2009-09-27T10:01:00.000-07:00

September 24, 2009

Turning 30 year’s old is a journey in and of itself! But to do it in Bolivia adds a bit of spice that adds to the experience! When I returned from my run I was greeted by Tim and Eva (my two co-instructors) who had made me crepes with a yummy warm cinnamon apple topping, mangos, and we broke out the maple syrup that our Canadian Eva had brought down for ‘just the right occasion!’

It was DELICIOUS!!!! I love crepes, but only eat them on occasion as all the sugar makes me sleepy. It feels like eating dessert for breakfast! My Mom has made them for me on some birthdays, and so it felt so special! They had made me a pretty card and wrote nice things (and wished me a happy 21st and 23rd birthday)!! They did the most ‘amazing’ wrapping job (with a black plastic bag) and topped it with a small branch from one of our gorgeous purple bougainvillea trees. They got me a local hat! It kind of reminds me of a bonnet I couldn’t live without for one Easter Sunday when I was about 4 years old!

The students began to filter in, as they do in the morning form their various home stays around the valley. They all wished me happy birthday one by one, and Laticha came in a gave me a really pretty bracelet that she had made and wanted to put it on my wrist. Then Lauren gave me knitting needles as she remembered that I had said I wanted to do some knitting and re learn how to do.

I went to the hospital, as that was when I was told to go and observe. But instead I sat for about 30-45 minutes before I was told to return tomorrow. I sat in the plaza waiting for the Internet to open and people watched. It never did open so I bought some fresh lettuce and returned to the house. I took a short catnap and ate a yummy salad that Eva and I made, and then in the afternoon had a short Spanish class. I did some work in the yard with some of the students and my co’s… we are leveling out the land around the ‘pool’. Then going to lay some flagstone and cement some stairs and a bench, as well as build up the Bougainvillea tree to make more shade so we have a picnic/BBQ place! Our vision is to have a BBQ herb garden nearby so there are fresh herbs to cook with. We are also building a chicken coop and buying chickens so we can have fresh eggs during our time in Sorata and then at the end of the course have some BBQ chicken.

The students had weaving class and music class and the weaving teachers made me some pretty woven pieces, one had a bunch of symbols in it. The Spanish teachers pulled me aside and gave me a bag/purse they had purchased and wished me well and gave me hugs and Latin kisses on the cheek. I was filled with warmth time and time again with so many mini surprises!

-The next day was Cailyn’s birthdday, and then Thursday was Madeline’s. Thursday night we had planned on our first ‘family’ night. Then when the time came a couple students announced that it wasn’t actually family night, but it was a birthday celebration night! We went down to where our fire pit and sing are and a someone grassy field and played pin the tail on the llama! Then we had a relay race, then a three legged race, then a potato sack race!! We all laughed SO hard and EVERYONE wanted to play, it was amazing! They got pizza, sodas, Eva made yucca fries, and some of the students made guacamole. We ate and chatted. Then a couple of them had put together party favors with toilet paper (because you never leave home without it) some chocolates and some stickers. It was so thoughtful and made everyone happy! THEN they got out more bags and had gifts for all the birthday people!!! Me, Cailyn, Madeline, and Miles’ (his birthday is the next week) So 4 birthdays within a week and they found thoughtful gifts for everyone!!

We played the most hilarious game of musical chairs (with pillows on the floor) then we went into the other room where they sang happy birthday to all of us and we all four blew out a candle.

So impressed and amazed with all the planning and thoughtfulness! We have such an amazing group in so many ways. It was definitely an amazing way to spend my birthday and my evening. I couldn’t be more touched!

Time in Sorata and Prep work

2009-09-05T12:40:00.001-07:00

September 2, 2009
Sorata, Intstructor orientation…

Maro, Helen, Crister, Eva, Tim, and I are all together…. Finally! We are at the program house which sits just outside of the main square of Sorata and over looks the river and the hillsides. We have about 14 acres of land with gardens of broccoli, carrots, fava beans, prickly pear, garbanzo beans, avocado, and more. Yesterday was our first day all together, it felt so good and complete to join after all this time of talking about meeting. Crister plays the guitar, we work together, to cook, and eat amazing food all together at a sit down table. So much comes from our garden and the rest from town. Eggs, gaucomole, bread, fruit salad, our taste buds are so content! The running is great, a little trail across a bridge that looks like it was made by grade schoolers to a road. I can run through the next ‘town’ which consists of about 10 houses. This is where our students do their home stays. It’s even more rural then being in town in Sorata, or our program house. There is one toilet for all of town. It’s dirty, with lots of crops and animals. Their journey here will be something to remember! Last night was the first real rain and it has calmed the smoke and the valley smells so fresh. We all seemed to get up around 6:30 to head out on our own paced runs. The sun cresting the mountains was beautiful and the light on the clouds was just so stunning!

La Paz to Sorata (1st of many I'm sure)

2009-09-05T12:38:00.000-07:00

August 29, 2009
Arriving to Sorata…. Finally!

I took a couple days of Spanish classes at the school Speak Easy, which is the same Spanish school that we (Dragons) hires instructors for the students while we are in Sorata. Jaun Carlos was my instructor, and I hope that while the students take classes, I will have time as well to sit in, or have some other instruction.
Wow, I have a lot to learn, but also feel like I have learned so much. It’s such an interesting process to learn another language. It really makes me realize the value of speaking multiple languages and that if/when I have kids that I want them to learn early in life while it’s easier and more natural for them.
Eva, my other co-instructor arrived yesterday. On the 5am flight, the same one that Tim and I were suppose to arrive on. It was nice to finally meet her and she has a vibrant personality and welcoming spirit.
The three of us (Eva, Tim and I) grabbed some lunch before we set out to Sorata and it was the most eventful lunch I think I have ever had! We ate at a nicer place and were sitting on the front patio. A man peaked around the corner to sit some pamphlets infront of Tim, I was looking closer, as he placed them very slowly, then placed another, it was strange, something made me turn around to look at where my bag was, “Oh my gosh… my bag is gone!” I got up and ran out to the sidewalk, there is was sitting on the ground, there was a man standing next to it pointing down the street saying “he went that way”. I picked up my bag, checked one pocket with that had one of my camera’s my new Bolivian cell -phone and my little change purse with about 100 bs. ($14). It was all there… actually everything was still zipped and buckled. Tim was out there looking around with me and there wasn’t really anything to see. We returned to our food, my heart was racing…. Gees!! I had heard for YEARS of people doing some distracting thing and someone else stealing something, but had never had it actually happen! I was so glad it wasn’t stolen. Whew! We told our server and then the owner came out and told us he had seen some Peruvians hanging around! Haha. When he left we laughed at this as the Peruvians say the same things about the Bolivians! Passing the buck to the neighboring country is not anything new.
We loaded our bags and went to the cemetery to catch the bus to Sorata. I had almost forgotten, or perhaps more likely pushed it out of my head what it was like sitting on the mini bus. The seats are really close together, as Bolivian’s aren’t usually very tall. My knees smashed up against the seat infront of me and the back of the seat only came up to my upper mid back. There were four benches all full with people, smelly people. We were the only travelers, or non-Bolivian’s. It’s amazing how much we stick out.

Getting to La Paz, August 26, 2009

2009-08-26T10:13:00.000-07:00

August 25, 2009
La Paz, Bolivia….

Only a 21 hour trip…. Right?! Well, it was only 30 hours later when I arrived.
I left Salem at 3am where my amazing Mother drove me to the airport (1 hour away). Flying from Portland, Oregon to Dallas Fortworth, Texas I slept a good amount. We landed on time and I had about an hour between landing and taking off again. Changing terminals making final phone calls and going to the bathroom filled my time. This flight was shorter, no movies or food for either flight, so I was glad to have my laptop to watch a movie on the 2nd leg of my trip.
Tim, one of my co-instructor’s had already arrived in Miami and was hanging out when I arrived. We were both tired and had conversation through sleepy eyes. There was 6 hours before our next flight so we made phone calls to family and friends and then went exploring to find food. Salads and mojitos filled our belly’s and we set out to charge our computer’s and cell phones. Helen, one of the instructor’s that will be leading the other group had a layover and came to meet us for a couple hours. I thought I was going to fall asleep mid sentence! Made last calls, then called Verizon to turn my phone to voicemail only. When I learned they can’t do this so my phone is totally off! So, I our gate changed only 3 times, but the flight was still on time. Time to board the plane…. Great, everything seems ontime! We will arrive around 5am after the 6+ hour flight. We found our seats, then realized the exit row was empty so we scored more leg room, but now our seats didn’t recline! The pilot came on and said the temperature was 31 degrees in La Paz!!!! Holy cow! I was just thinking that we would be in for some cold nights in the mountains! We sat, we waited, we waited… we were still at the gate… it had been about 30 minutes and the pilot was telling us they were fixing something on the wheels and looking for a bag with a certain tag amoungst all the baggage. This seemed odd, and we made jokes, then another 30 minutes or so and we were pushing away from the gate and started to taxi to our take off spot…. Taxiing, taxiing, still taxiing. It was taking FOREVER! We wondered if we were still in the airpot… were we going to drive off into the ocean, perhaps they fixed the wheels so they would fold up and the plane would turn into a boat?! Yep…. Still taxiing! “this is your pilot, we are waiting for a plane to land, then we can take off, it’ll be 6 minutes” hmmmm, six minutes we thought, that is VERY specific!..... 20 or so minutes later “this is your captain, as I engaged the throttle, we discovered we have a major problem with the right engine” yes, MAJOR problem with the right engine! Ding ding ding…. This doesn’t sound good. “we tried to fix it out here, but cannot, so we have a plane ready for us and will return to the gate and switch planes”
Ok, great, this should be quick, and easy.... it’s only been about and hour and a half wait. So we taxi back the one million miles back to the gate…. Ok… we are STILL at the gate! It is raining REALLY hard now, and we are still sitting at the gate…. Now I am waking up from a weird sleep to the captain telling us that they decided they were going to attempt to fix the problem there at the gate instead. Why we were not told this when we first came back to the gate is beyond me. He goes on to say that we are up against a time crunch because the flight crew has a legal amount of time they can be working, and if we don’t take off by a certain time, then mid flight they will go over and so we have to try and get things fixed as fast as possible.
Not going to fix it, so, grab your belongings and your pillows and blankets and exit the plane… we will board just at the gate across from the one we are at. Everyone piles off, wrapped in blankets, half asleep, we were on that plane for 4 hours and didn’t go anywhere! Everyone bombards the gate while we hang back and take some space, walk, and stretch. They announce it’ll be at least 20 minutes… everyone drops like flies. Finally we are going to board, it’s 3:15 in the morning. Of course we wait to board last to avoid being on the plane any extra time and one of the employees tells us that we are really going to have to hurry to take our seats, that that plane will be “waiting on us” and she was going to run ahead and pass on the word. I think everyone was moving as fast as they could given the hour of morning it was. In the last 48 hours I was operating on about 1 hour of sleep and a few airplane hours. I’m sure I was doing the best I could! So as we board a maintenance guy tells another, “so the gali is flooded and we can’t get the coffee pot to turn off”….. of course, right, the coffee pot.
So we resume the position sit, wait, sit, wait, I go to the bathroom and there are about 5 people trying to figure this thing out. It’s been another 45 minutes of sitting on the freaking plane and we were sining…. “We’re not going to take it…. No, we’re not going to take it…. Anymore…” haha! Yes, we were officially dilearious! Then, three people, one in a yellow reflector vest, a women in a suit, and someone else go running down the isle. Tim and I just look at each other. I was wondering if I should be running too! Was something going to blow?! They were running, but it looked funny and not super fast, but yet in a heard, all clumped together. Then we heard the door close and the engine rev up…. What?! Are we ACTUALLY taking off?! Yes, in fact that is what the announcement says. The flight attendance look worked, people are snoring, we taxing the one million miles out and actually start going down the run way. I’m sighing saying, finally, and Tim is saying, “I still don’t believe it” then it happens, we are airborn!!!!
Next thing I know I’m being woken up to be served food. We are pretty hungry, scarf down the mashed potato goodness, then pass out with trays still in front of us. I slept hard for 3 hours, would wake to thinking my head was falling off, fall back asleep on my zipper so my face hurt, it was just one of those nights.
Flying in over the Andes was spectacular, seeing Llampu, Huayna Potosi, Condoriri, Illamani, brought a flood of memories, and the thought of many more to come. Landing at 13,000 + feet was fine, the airport was TINY! Dealing with my visa wasn’t smooth, but not too hard. It was the most mellow South American airport I have flown into!
We got a taxi to Maro’s house. She is Bolivian and lives in La Paz. She will be working on the other trip, but is so great! I wish my Spanish is better because her and Tim start speaking in Spanish, I am so envious.
We head to Blueberries for breakfast, then Tim and I spent the day dealing with getting phones, learning about internet options for the house in Sorata, getting yummy smoothies, walking the market and the black market.
We got back to Maro’s and Helen had arrived so we all went to dinner to get traditional food from another part of Bolivia called Santa Cruz. I had rice with fried plantain and a fried egg, and of course we had fresh papaya juice! I am falling asleep again, but get a like 10th wind and we head to a bar for a little bit before returning to Maro’s where we all crashed out in her room.
I slept until 10 or so today before we went to get some saltena’s for breakfast. Catching up on emails, writing this, then headed to a Spanish school to find out about taking some classes before orientation start on the 31st.
Eva (Tim and mine other co-instructor) arrives on Friday. We will probably spend the weekend in Sorata at the program house…..

Thanks for reading!
I hope this finds you well,
Abrazos,
Jess ☺

Ecuador 10

2008-07-19T21:38:00.001-07:00

July 17, 2008

We visted Volcaan Negro today. What ended up being a 9 mile round trip day in the blazing sun was a breathtaking and exhausting visit. The Chiva (open bus) picked us up at 8am for a 45 minute drive up the side of the volcano into the low clouds. The plant life was lush with ferns, moss, and the invasive Guava that we love, but is taking over on the islands. We hiked up a short 30 minute muddy trail to reach the rim of the crater. It was HUGE!!!! We were all impressed and I was defiantly surprised, as I’ve seen numerous Craters, but non even a quarter the size of this one! Green around the outside with the black lava from the irruption just two years ago filling the inside. Pablo once again captured our attention with his knowledge and facts to share. Engaging us with his questions and ability to include the knowledge the group already had. We got to walk along the rim for a couple hours taking photos, learning about the volcano and facts that Pablo had to share.
It was unworldly and really hot! We walked around the rim for a while until we arrived at some beautiful trees for lunch. After lunch we descended through a couple lava flows and passing Cactus that was over 800 years old. The Chicos were incredible. Much smaller then the crater we had passed before, but dramatic landscape and a variety of lave to look at. We took photos and took a couple minutes of silent at the high point to enjoy, reflect and just be. When Pablo asked if we were ready the students all mooned a ‘noooooo’ then we all laughed, because he was right! Nobody wanted to leave, yet I think we were all ready to be out of the sun.
They are all fast walkers and our return took no time at all, we stopped briefly at the tree for snacks, water a sunscreen and continued down the path entering back into the mist that we arrived in. The climate is so unique up there.

Ecuador 9

2008-07-19T21:37:00.003-07:00

July 16, 2008

Lindsay and I got back on our morning routine of yoga, sit-ups and push-ups. Hunter says everyone day he will join us, but still hasn’t. I felt sore from the surf session the night before and was glad to be getting my body working. It’s been about 5 days since our last morning session and we both could feel the length of time between! The night before was cooler and cloudy and when we woke it seemed like we may be in for another of the say sort of day. A few sun Salutations and on the drive to the beach I asked out loud for just some sun. After 30 minutes the clouds all parted and it was nice after that. The blue water was outstanding and the sand became a lighter shade. ‘Eye candy’ for me!!! I finally got ‘outside’ the break and caught a wave and stood up! It was such an amazing feeling I was so excited!
The morning started out groggy. At breakfast folks were tired from the long day before. People talked about how they still felt like they were on the boat. I don’t think very many folks have gotten a great night sleep in a few nights so hopefully tonight will be another catch-up night. We all felt a little off and a little worked playing in the waves this morning.
Lunch, and a nap, then back to the waves. Zach was very persistant and stated catching waves and standing up. Pablo the main surf instructor recognized his efforts in front of the group at the end of the day. Jelly fish seemed to be present and several people got stung. Thinking it must be good luck, like when you get pooped on by a bird?! This must be a lucky group as Rachel got pooped on while on the boat.
The afternoon everyone seemed tired, some stuck it out while other trickled off to hang on the beach with periodic dips to stay cool. We ended the day with another big dinner. No food goes to waste with this group as everyone fights over other people’s
left-overs. The plates are large, rice, a meat, and veggies, always prefaced with a bowl of soup and usually a small dessert. It’s definitely a mixter of amusement and stress at the dinner table!
Pablo gave us our briefing for tomorrow, he started by asking us if we knew what the worst part of tomorrow would be. After a few guessed he finally said. That we will have to leave this place. He said that it is such a special place and that only a few people get to go their. That we are so lucky and it’s a shame we will have to leave! This makes me excited for tomorrow!

Ecuador 8

2008-07-19T21:37:00.001-07:00

July 15, 2008

The sun is setting, the moon is high and bright, another few days and it will be full. The air is filled with laughter and shouts of glory and the ocean is dabbled with 9 Long Acre Students, 2 Trip Leaders, 1 Ecaudorian guide, and 3 Galapagos surf instructors. I can’t help but smile! Lindsay laughs at me and when I ask her why she says “You just look so happy!”
Amy although a bit nervous as it’s her first time surfing, does like she always does, and ‘dives’ right in! Her ability doesn’t look any different then the majority of the others. We all laugh at our selves when we fall, cheer for ourselves and each other for catching a wave, and battle out through the breaks to try and try again! The 3 surf instructors are encouraging and keep a close eye on everyone as they go around and give pointers. Pablo, the main instructor gave a great briefing and a nice progression with explanations and gradual practice. But above all he stressed that surfing is about having fun! He also shared as he picked us up from the boat dock and walked us to lunch that surfing changed his life and he was excited for the possibility of our lives to be changed as well!
We all had fun and the student’s really seemed to enjoy themselves. When Chris and I said we were surfing the next morning and possibly in the afternoon as well, they were all excited. So when planning our day we decided on a morning surf session a long lunch, with a chance to get out of the sun, nap, journal, and an afternoon session.
We walked back in the dark along the beach with the moon lighting our way. Everyone in good spirits, the energy was positive and the hunger for dinner was brewing.
It’s amazing to think we woke up this morning on El Intrepedo (the boat that we called home for the past 3 nights. We walked around one of my favorite Islands I had visited last time I was here. The Frigit birds and the Blue footed Boobies were doing their mating dances, both speices were protecting their little chicks that had hatches. There is a worn path around the island and the birds surely know that tourists freauently stop their, yet none have moved to a more private location. None are scared because they have always been protected, never harmed by humans. The distance at which we can stand is un heard of. They continue to mate, lay eggs, and protect their young, all at arms length from dozens of humans, camera in hand! The land is spotted with sleeping sea lions and we all stop and pay attention to the babies that are waiting for their mother’s to return from fishing as they lay curled up resting.
Our morning began at 6am with our last walking tour, a quick breakfast while the boat sailed to our final destination. As the first dingy loaded and departed from the larger boat two Galapagos sharks circled the boat, excited and a little nervous we all enjoyed the sighting! We arrived at the dock and as we walked up the ramp spotted two benches, each with two Sea Lions sleeping. We boarded a bus that drove us about 10 minutes to the airport where we waited for a truck to pick us up. We took the truck about 15 minutes to the canal, where we took a little boat across the way from Baltra to Santa Cruz. Boarded another bus for about 45 minutes to the Harbor that we had originally gotten on El Intrepedo. Chris and I bought Apples, more water, and pulled out snacks before boarding our ‘ferry’ to Isabella. After choppy and wet 2 ½ hour boat ride where poor Amanda and Kiley felt pretty sea sick. We didn’t make it to lunch until almost 3pm, energy was low, but understanding that sometimes travel days are big days.
Finishing the day with surfing in the ocean was worth it all! Dinner and everyone was pooped!

Ecuador 7

2008-07-19T21:36:00.001-07:00

July 12, 2008

Sitting at the airport waiting to board the plane that will take us to the Galapagos, we all can’t believe that we woke up in the Jungle yesterday morning.
Our time in the Jungle was an adventurous one. We went to sleep to the sound of a strong rain pounding on the roof of the hotel. The rain lasted through the night and into the morning. We took a one hour bus ride to the Napo river where we were to take 20 minute boat ride a little up stream and to the other side. Because of the rains the river was too high to cross and we lounged in hammocks and on the wooden dock that sat on the river. We got the OK to and we loaded up the very narrow boat. Wee took up two boats, with nervous stomachs and fearful not to move too suddenly for fear we would tip the boat. The skillful drivers took us up stream dodging branches and turbulent waters we landed across the stream the rain had stopped and the humid air rose from the lush jungle we were entering.
Clever, our local jungle guide and Shaman (medicine man) 27 years old and full of knowledge and life. We made sure our pants were tucked into our rubber boots and we started what we were told would be about a 2 hour walk to the Rio Blanco Community. He stopped and showed us all sorts of plants, their uses and
Two hours and 45 minutes later we arrived, hungry, wet, hot and excited. One last small river crossing in handmade canoes with handmade wooden paddles. Only two people in the smaller kayak and 3 or 4 in the others, even more narrow no movement, the thought of breathing even made it feel like we would tip!
Again the skill and confidence made our minds at ease and we arrived at the banks welcomed by Clever’s little sister, Mom, and Dad.

……

Ecuador 6

2008-07-19T21:34:00.000-07:00

July 6, 2008

A whirl wind again. Thinking that just two nights ago we were at 12,000 feet, cold, windy and in our layers, looking at Cotopaxi. Now sitting in the town of Tena at the edge of the jungle, hot, humid, still in t-shirts at 10pm. Listening to the sound of insects, frogs, and the girls painting their nails and the boys scaring themselves with a large spider they found above a window.
Chris and I are in hard debate for Kiley’s health and the benefit of the group. Deciding another day of rest is in her best interest and to not expose herself to a day of wetness and the hot sun, but to rest and build her immune system before heading into the jungle. After her penicilan injections at the hospital she is feeling much better and I’m in hopes she will continue to feel better and nobody else will be sick!
We left Banos on bikes to head into the Jungle. We biked and took in the views to the right while buses flew by on the left. We stopped and watched the sky buckets take Ecuadorian Tourists across the canyon. The lush green plants lining the walls and the Rio Pastasa raged below. Locals maintained high and steep farmland that awed us all.
This biking day is stressful but so fun! It feels good to get out doing some physical activity and have open views. We stopped for lunch for some BBQ, I had the most amazing trout EVER!!!!! Some of us went for a walk down to a great double waterfall with a swimming hole at the bottom. The water was cold but really refreshing!
The biking was over and it was time to get back on the bus again for a few hours. We were on a bumpy dirt road for a while when Rachel asked if this was the ‘main’ road to Tena, which of course it was and we all laughed at how bad the road was. Arriving in Tena we were ready for dinner. We walked over a bridge to a resteraunt that sat on the river. Folks could order steak, pork, chicken, fish. It was tasty and a fun ambiants. Tomorrow is our rafting day and Chris and I decided Kiley still wasn’t up to par and it was in her best interest to rest one more day rather then be wet all day and potentially cold not allowing her immune system to continue to build before we head off deeper into the jungle. She was upset and a Amy and Rachel, her current roomates worked hard to cheer her up and keep her mind off the fact that she was staying behind.
We had breakfast at Tortuga Café and loaded up for an hour drive to our put in spot on the river. We would raft for a couple hours, have lunch, then have another couple hours in the afternoon and be back by 4pm. The rapids were up to class 3. Fun rolling rapids and wave trains. Holes to be hit and missed. We had water fights and swam whenever our guide Danny said it was OK. The other Boats guide was Andrea’s, both fun and full of knowledge, life and energy. We chowed on Burritos with freshly made guacamole, fruit, and veggies. After everyone was full the guides asked if we wanted more, when we answered “No Thanks” they asked if we were sure. After our confirmation they whistled and the little kids that were washing their clothes on the beach when we pulled up came running over and picked up all the food to take to a nearby table with a giant leaf on it. They spread out the food and each child seemed to be in charge of dividing up the food into even amounts to everyone. It was a great scene to observe!
Our next stop after lunch was a pull out where we waded in the river and walked around a corner where there was a beautiful canyon, full of green lush plant life, a creek running through it, and some dirt that is great for your skin. The guides had fun painting our faces and we got into character and soaked in our surroundings!
This was a pretty site and a fun side tour that nobody wanted to end. We made it back to Tena around 4pm, did some shopping, tried to find a Salsa class that wasn’t going to start until too late, had dinner and started packing for the next few days in the Jungle. The rain started around 9pm and was strong! Giant bugs decorated the walk way and would scare people frequently. The jungle is a deep and dense place and Tena is reminding us of that!

Ecuador 5

2008-07-06T06:14:00.002-07:00

July 4, 2008

Another mind bending day!
Seeing Jose (our driver)’s familiar and friendly face that morning was so nice.
We left Agato, a joyful, yet sad feeling in the air, all the happy memories and excitement for new places, but the feeling of departure struck everyone.
We had a 4 hour bus ride up up and some more up to 12,000 feet. I suppose coming from 10,000 it wasn’t that dramatic, but the scenary change and the fact that we were going up hill was a more then true. We arrived at a nice Hacienda in the middle of ‘nowhere’ as Rachel put it. It was great! A red building against a beautiful green grass filled back drop with rising mountains surrounding it. Horses scattered the property and other tourists trickled in and out. No sooner then we arrived Kiley admitted she hadn’t been feeling well and arrival was the straw that broke the camels back. She decided to stay behind and rest while the others were offered tea and empanada’s de queso. Bread rolls with cheese inside. We snacked and drank and enjoyed our waiters that had ponchos on.
We went outside to put on chaps and ponchos. Took loads of pictures and mounted up on our horses. We set off on a dirt road and saw where the locals have their rodeo and continued on to see the wild livestock they round up to ride. We had a dog from the Hacienda that scared away the bulls as we rode off.
The terrain was pretty, Cotopaxi was covered in clouds, but once we got to a great lookout spot the clouds parted enough for us to see the mountain laced with cravaces. I told them a little about climbing the mountain and some glaciology. We soon took off in a nice canter carefree and loaded with smiles! We returned with saddle legs after 2 hours. Kiley was still not feeling well and the group went for lunch. After lunch there was a nice relaxing time by the fire, some games played outside and our 2nd Group (meeting). We treated Kiley and decided she needed to sleep inside a room while the group camped out. She got setteled and the group enjoyed a candle lit dinner. The stars were bright, there was a glimps of Cotopaxi before sun down, and everyone had excitement and some fear about the journey to hike to the refugio in the morning.
I went to bed with a feeling of us forming more as a group in having fun together, a nice change from all the hard work and focused attention that Agato took.
All the students were concerned and kind about Kiley not feeling well. We took everything in stride as even though we aren’t in the mountains we are far from easy trips to good clinics. We treated her symptoms and gave her rest. Hoping the next morning she’d either feel better or we could make arrangements to get her to a doctor.

Ecuador 4

2008-07-06T06:14:00.001-07:00

July 3, 2008

“Muchas Gracias” were the words that continued to be repeated throughout the day and the evening.
We met at the community center at 8am and got to work, only to find out we were out of paint (again) no worries, right?! A quick run to the store? Not from Agato. Catch the bus to Otavalo and hope the store owner has found more of what we asked for the day before. A wild goose chase sometimes, but Pablo, our Ecuadorian guide got what we needed. Not to mention the way to make paint go further here is to just add water!!! More coats of yellow and adding the blue trim made for a nice contrast. There were comments of wanting to have rooms painted these colors, others were glad it was not something they were going to have to look at. (I personally thought it was perfect and cheery).
The mural maintained it’s general vision, but due to time and realizing how difficult it is to paint on uneven cement the ideas swirled and evolved into an amazingly thoughtful, display.
While we waited for the paint to arrive we headed to the field for some games. After we played and folks were starting the through the Frisbee, there was an initiation to pick up trash (from the students) they had mentioned it the other day, but in all my experience I was doubtful of the initiation actually taking place, let alone EVERYONE participating in picking up the litter that covered the field. I had to pry them away from the field to finish painting!!! This was an amazing site! A little while later a few of us caught a glimpse of a few small children from the town with handfuls of garbage (litter is not understood here, so this was an incredible site that I must say brought tears to my eyes as the actions of these teenagers was contagous!
Around 1pm our hosts families showed up with a ‘picnic potluck’ We walked out to the soccer field and they laid out a blanket and began to dump whatever it was they cooked for the potluck on the clothe. We had rice, garbanzo type beans, fried mashed potato cakes, brocooli, carrots, lentils, fresh salsa, black beans, avocado. Fresh pinnapple juice, tea. They passed out spoons and everyone could dig in! It was the perfect way to celebrate the end of our service work and the end of our stay. (Apparentlly this is a typical celebration when community work has been done.
After lunch and a little football (soccer) we all (including our host families and kids) went to see the mural. Kylee and Amy set up stations with different color paint and one by one everybody dipped their hand in paint and made their mark around the peace sign that incompessed the mural. Everyone laughed, smiled, and enjoyed the unity this mural brought!
We departed for a nearby waterfall for a look and a hopeful dip that turned into a scene we quickly discovered was unmanageable, so after a lot of pictures we walked back. Zach, Sam, and Hunter have been staying with Rosa and Juan, who also came with us to the waterfall and were the one’s so kind to spend hours teaching us to make necklaces, and donate supplies for our ‘schooling’ we thought it would be polite to repay them and perhaps do a little shopping. Little did Chris and I know what we were getting into!! Once again the whole family was there and we were welcomed with smiles and of course Andean music. The students are also wonderful shoppers, buying jewlerly, hats, pants, various items, all a fun and colorful scene. A small fire was started out back and soon we were all sitting around with Rosa telling stories and Amy and I trying to translate. I briefed the group on tomorrow’s activities in Spanish (more or less). Rosa thanked us all, and told us our being her makes her and her whole family very happy and she is sad to see us go. She told Hunter, Sam and Zach that she would like them to return with they are grown. She made sure the other girls were enjoying everything at their houses, Lindsay replied in Spanish that the food was delicious.
Then, Rosa had a tradition she wanted to share. She had us all stand up, then she passed around little tree bark dusting from the ‘holy tree’ it smelled wonderful! She told us to make a wish, then one by one we threw our handful into the fire. She asked if we wanted to dance and the music got louder and we all danced with joy around the fire.
WHEW, what a day!!! Chris and I keep saying what an amazing experience we have gotten and how lucky we are. Everyone is sad to be leaving. Kylee has been crying a bit, Zach wanted to make sure he knew how to say “these gifts are for you” Amanda is going to be giving her family a dictionary that we all think is a perfect gift. All in all everyone is great. Everyone worked SO hard! I never had to tell anyone to get up and work. More like encourage breaks and to eat! It is a real treat to work with such amazing and kind-hearted souls. We head out to horseback ride tomorrow

Ecuador 3

2008-07-06T06:13:00.001-07:00

July 2, 2008

WOW, today was a full day. Our day started with breakfast at 7:45am Tea, juice, eggs, bread, a warm soup type cereal that was blended quinoa and passion fruit. You drink it like a tea.
We arrived from our respected host families homes at the community center at 8:30am (except for the boys showing up at 9am, but still eager and willing to get to work. We continued to sand, scrape and clean, then the fun began as we were able to finally begin painting. A bright yellow to coat on EVERYTHING. We had our loud Andean music playing in the background. We decided to make a mural on one of the walls going up the stairs. The students all got together and decided on an amazing idea that sent chills up my spine. Two birds, the condor and the bald eagle (to represent Ecuador and the US. With the backdrop of a large piece sign and the circle surrounded by people holding hands (representing us and the village kids) The eagles are landing in a nest that will be made by hand prints of ours and the other kids in the town!!!! GREAT idea!!! Well, that’s not all, they want to come up with some sort of phrase to talk about uniting us both and write it in Spanish, AND they want to put the Kichwa flag and or colors in there!
I continued to be surprised and excited by their kind hearts and excitement for joining the two cultures.
After lunch we returned to the community center to paint for another hour then head over to where the three boys, Zach, Hunter and Sam all stay with Rosa and Jaun. Rosa said she’d like to teach us how to make necklaces with beads. She was ready with husband and her daughters, her brother’s wife, and a table with chairs. She also had a plan for us to pick what we’d like to learn, then she teach us. We all chose colors and styles and then she split us into groups and the fun began. I joined Amy, Hunter, and Lindsay in a bedroom where we sat on the floor, beaded, and tried to talk Spanish with the Mother and Father (Rosa and Juan) of the house. We laughed, messed up, learned, taught, and got to see first hand how these people not only make their living, but pass their lives. The couple’s anniversary (although the man didn’t have it pegged) is this month and 18 years. He added that they are happy, which is obvious as we see them together everytime we interact. They even brought us all bananas this morning as a snack. We had a ‘chow’ circle after leaving and they promptly joined in, holding hands and l laughing at our jokes, one time I asked if they understood and a quick response of no came, followed by even more laughter.
We all walked back to our homes nearing dark down the carless streets of Agato, with a feeling of accomplishment and more of a sense of community, not just with the towns people, but within our group.
Everyone seems to be enjoying the food, or at least enough of it to be full. Constantly trying to please the people and the group everyone is so polite to their hosts and to each other, there is a true feeling of sensarity in the atmosphere as the hours go on the more we discover, adapt, and understand.
I can only imagine what the rest of the time will give us.

Ecuador 2

2008-07-06T06:12:00.001-07:00

The cobble stone streets are filled with children, but no adults. One of the students makes a comment that ‘everyone in the USA always says how dangerous South America is, yet all the families let their children run around unattended and they go home for dinner.”
We saw kids ages 3 wondering the streets, wanting to go where we were going, walk with us, hold our hands. Confilcted, and unsure where they were suppose to be or if a parent would miss them we soon learned that they know where they live and they go home when they need to.
A full morning of prepping the community to paint, sanding, scraping, sweeping up the torqouise pant powder we went to our respected host families for a delicious lunch. Maltilda, 30 years old has a spicy and smart 4 year old eyla (pronounced; like the letter ‘e’, then a soft la) she allows me to practice my Spanish, speaking slow to me, repeating and annunciating, showing me colors on her shoes, it took her a while, but tonight she started asking how to say things in English. She likes to take everything away from her little 1 ½ year brother Cory. For lunch we had a typical meal consisting of soup, then the main dish with rice, beans, a scrambled egg, spinach, and carrot omelet, fresh homemade salsa, a tomato and carrot salad, juice of oatmeal. (yea I know, sounds strange to some, but so good!) and tea. Dinner was another delicious soup with white carrot, a side of popcorn and tea. The food is AMAZING!
The community is a Kichwa community outside of Otavalo. The people’s first language was Kichwa, then they learned Spanish. Nobody seems to speak English so we are very glad to have Pablo our local guide and interpreter along. The people in the community are very kind and welcoming. Several of the students have commented on how amazing it is that they just welcome us in with open arms and take care of us with sincere concern. We all have about a 10-15 minute walk from our homes around town to the community center. Chris, Pablo and my home is on top of the hill.
We spent the afternoon taking care of housekeeping and having our first ‘Group’ which went extremely well considering there was the loudest music playing and a one of the host mom’s and her husband, and another of the host families kids sat in (sometimes) The particiation in everything is amazing. Everyone worked really hard on the community center. Everyone seems to be practicing their Spanish and trying to learn new words, try new foods, and be very grateful and appreciative all the while. A couple of the boys taught a 5 year old how to draw a star on a piece of paper even with the language barrier. After our meetings we headed out to the field across the street for some games. We quickly noticed the local kids playing soccer and basketball. It wasn’t long before we all were joined in. The altitude was grabbing people’s breath so the students would tag in and out for rests against the local kids. A volleyball game went on, some soccer, a lot of laughs were had and photos taken.
All in all it was a great day. Tomorrow we have, beading at 3pm after we visit the waterfall and soccer match at 4pm. Hope to pack it all in!

Ecuador 1

2008-07-06T06:10:00.000-07:00

The Eagles are in their nests! (in Ecuador)
Finally the students have all arrived… not without some unexpected delays, exhaustion, phone calls, dispair, with the frosting on the cake being 11pm at night and the entrance to the airport is CLOSED!!!! Yes, closed as they are painting. Driving around looking for another entrance we manage to arrive just in time to wait around and greet Lindsy and her bright orange Long Acre T-shirt.
I arrived in the Houston airport with enough time go to the gate that was posted as the 5 students from Seattle’s arrival gate, learn that I needed to go to the other end and run into an old friend’s father, go to the gate be told it was back across the airport where I just came from scoop them up, have lunch and wait. We were waiting outside the gate that Lindsay was suppose to arrive when my phone rang. “Jessica?” an unfamiliar voice said… “This is Lindsay” my reply was, “great! She arrived, just come on off the plane, we are waiting for you” “well” she said “I’m actually in Austin.” My heart went to my toes and my brain began turning. What the heck is she doing there?! Did this girl get on the wrong plane?
So we made it to Ecuador around 1am with our new friend and Ecuadorian guide waiting for us. Exhausted but excited we arrived at the hostel, sadly without Lidnsay as the storm separated her, but she sounded easy going and we all looked forward to meeting her soon.
A short nights sleep and we were up for our first breakfast. In the bus to meet our friendly driver Jose, and off to visit some lakes, Otavalo, and meet our homestay families. I was going to return with Damon and Jose to Quito so I could be there to meet Lindsay and stay the night with her in Quito.
Once again a LOOOONG day and a short night was ahead of me, but it was such a relief to meet Linsdsay (even though Damon and I couldn’t get into the entrance of the airport for 30 minutes because they closed it from painting the street!!!! (ahhhh, good to be back in South America, and typical maham!)

Yoga and Tonsai

2008-06-17T21:44:00.001-07:00

Traveling has it’s ups and downs
You feel so high from an experience, then it can just turn around so quickly.
I have been pretty lucky in having some great interactions, meeting AMAZING people and just finding goodness.
I spent a few days on Koh Tao, an island in the Gulf of Mexico, reading a book, and exploring the nooks and crannies on my little automatic moped off roading in my little sun dress, getting stuck, snorkeling with sharks, reefs, and simply relaxing.
I came to Koh Phangnan in hopes to do some detoxing at a center where you can fast and do colonics to clean your system. Symbolizing a ‘clean slate’ for me.
But on arrival felt the vibe to not be very welcoming. I m et a great girl from South Africa, Juli, and we decided to try this yoga school another friend had told me about on the North end of the island. As a travel it’s almost a golden rule that plans are ment to be broken. We had made this plan, bargained with the taxi driver and were loading our packs when my eye caught a flyer for the Half Moon party that was taking place in just a couple days, it was so close to the resort that Juli had been raving about since we met that we laughed and said, what the heck. Asking the taxi driver to drop us off we found a very nice bungalow, splurging after staying in a dorm room that was situated about a noisy restaurant.
We relaxed, ate great food, and three girls can really dance their hearts out when they want!!!! No boys allowed in the dance circle and we were so tough we walked almost 3km there and 3km back!!!
Getting to spend time with Stephanie who I had traveled with earlier in my trip and meeting her boyfriend was so fun. We took a tour around the island for their last day, snorkeling and relaxing. Then I finally headed up to see what this Agama Yoga school was all about.
I arrived, found a room, and went to my first class. It was such a challenge for me, it’s a kind of yoga that you hold the asana’s (poses) for a long time, average about 5 min!
You keep your eyes closed the whole time, I was so antcy that I kept opening my eyes, not realizing it, and the teaching trying to get my attention quietly to close them.
I decided I was going to do one or 2 more days, then I was going to leave.
The classes are 2 hours in the morning and 2 hours in the evening with a lecture in the night! It’s pretty intense, but a lot of good info and learning. Over the next couple days I found a group of friends that we spent all spare time together and then, at my ‘last’ class I had an amazing mediation session. We all hung out that night again, and the next day met for breakfast and spent the day together. How could I leave?!
I ended up sharing a bungalow at a nicer place with an amazing pool for the week and did yoga until my heart was content. Feeling so eladed after every session and surrounded my amazing energy. I met people with great insights, by knowing me only 2 days one of the yoga teachers guessed my astrological sign. I participated in a group meditation that blew me away! I am finding ways to tap into energies I have always had but didn’t know how to channel them. (I know to some of you this sounds crazy)
I had to renew my visa and told myself that it must be a sign, that I should go do this and leave. I went to Myan Mar (Burma) for about an hour, came back to Thailand and spent the night in a dumpy guest house in Ranong.
I found my way to Ton Sai, near the town of Krabi where I was going to climb…. (hopefully)
After a 7 hour bus ride that was like being on a city bus because it stopped every chance it got (no more then 10 min) I got to Krabi, jumped in a taxi that again stopped every chance, saying hello to all his friends on our way to Ao Nang.
The ride was SO amazing, driving through the green lush country side you could see cliffs of limestone covered with foliage.
Once in Ao Nang I got into a boat taxi, eventhough Ton Sai isn’t a island there are no roads that go there.
A 10 minute ride and there I was (this is where the beach was filmed, and one of the James Bond movies)
Limestone cliffs created the back drop with green jungle mountains and a little beach with a blocks worth of bamboo made restaurants, bars, and bungalows.

Koh Tao, Thailand

2008-06-17T21:43:00.003-07:00

March 5, 2007 Koh Tao, Thailand

“You Take my Breath Away” remixed, and other 80’s songs blar as I sit at Kallpangha Restaurant on Koh Tao looking out at the shallow aqua’s cutting into the deep blues of the Gulf of Thailand. Brightly painted blues and reds decorate the boats, rock formations jet out from the earth and rolling green hills set the back drop while wild dogs protect their territory, locals attempt to work on a construction site but the urge to lie in the hammock wins over. a wind surfer practices his tricks and the tourists lay on the beach and take comfort from the heat in the waters that are so warm.
I arrived after a long and painful journey from Bangkok. I thought that I’d be clever and travel the ‘local’ way. Not using the all too convientient mode of transportation provided by private companies picking you up on the road that is built for tourists, taking you in their VIP air con bus to where you change over and get on a boat for a couple hours before arriving on the island. “HA” I thought I will save money AND give my business back to the government, after all the Thai’s really seem to be working hard to provide information to the tourists through government funding. Plus all the private buses were full.
I took a taxi as the rush hour of a Friday afternoon heading into a three day weekend in Bangkok seemed to be building. The Southern Bus Terminal doesn’t seem so big but it packed with people I found my way without standing in line to buy a combo ticket of bus and boat. My two options were to leave at 9pm on the first class bus, or 10pm on the VIP bus, I opted for for 9pm as it was sooner and the bus ride is only about 6 hours. Saving a few hundred Bhat.
Hmmmmm, I still have 3 hours to kill. Great, I’ll go sit down in the waiting area and read or something, stretch my legs. Yeah RIGHT! There were so many people I could hardly walk through the crowd let alone sit! I decided I’d walk across the street and maybe find a better place to sit. I had said that I didn’t really feel like I was ‘experiencing Thailand’ I was feeling like this country was totally molded into a circus for street goers of all ages. Food, tours, clothes, non of it would be here if it wasn’t for the tourists. Some of the prices have spun out of control, for instance a street in Bangkok that is geared for tourists with clubs, shops, vendors, tattoo parlors, massages etc is triple the price from just one street over!
Well here I was, the only white person that I can spot for a long time, I find a spot on a curb next to a Thai girl and after plopping down on the street I realize I’m sitting outside a KFC! The smell of grease pours out with the AC everytime the door opens from the frequent traffic. The line is long and the tables are full. I can’t believe it. A
7 eleven on every corner, Burger King, and the frequent Starbucks was enough but now a KFC! I kill about 45 minutes people watching and decide to get something to eat. I find a local vendor and got some stir friend vegetables and a side of steamed rice, sitting in the plastic chairs that are in the street making up the “restaurant”.
Ahhh, another 45 minutes has passed. I decide to get one of the ice cream cones I saw so many locals walking around with and head over and figure out where I get my bus. I have realized that you have to be quick to get through lines here, that if you want a seat on the bus you have to scury about and get in and snag a seat as they are never assigned, that 9 0’clock ment the bus was pulling out at that time!
Well I was there, ready to make my way on the bus, no sitting in the back for me! But then all I thought I knew went out the door! I waited for a long time 9pm came and went and I was sure the bus women yelling in the microphone was aware that I was suppose to be on this bus. Some other travels should up not sure where to go and asking me. They thought that because we were going to the same destination we were on the same bus, they apperntly didn’t see the 3 other companies selling tickets, or that each one had at least 2 different times leaving tonight, I asked what company and they just said, no, what town are you going to. I asked what time their bus was to leave and said I was on a different bus, they seemed confused.
All of a sudden a man wanting to see my ticket comes up and then waves for me to go with him we walk around to where it looked like several buses were parked and he told me to get on. I grabbed the first seat I saw and sat down next to a Thai girl. Ahhhhh the only non Thai on the bus, just what I was hoping for! I turn around to see what the confusion was and the women in charge points to me from the other end of the bus and yells, “You” I stand up and go to her, she makes me sit in a different seat, apparently these seats were assigned! I got some coconut juice and a little package with a slice of white bread coded with butter and sprinkled with sugar. Strange and gross I thought.
The traffic was so slow and the bus stopped for the driver to smoke a few times. In the middle of the night we stopped as the buses normally do for us to eat and get snacks.
We pile back on a drive a few more hours. At 4am we stop on a small side street with a little place lit up and they tell me to get off. I stagger my way down the isle and get my bag, everyone wants my ticket, yelling it seems “TICKET” just as I show it to one person and they tell me to wait here, I put it away, then it happens all over again. I finally sit down outside because inside, even with the fans on and the doors wide open are too hot. Good, a spot in the corner, nobody will smoke, bother me, they know where I am so when the bus comes to take me to the boat they will get me, as there are only 3 other people (all Thai) around. But no, of course not, a man has to find his way just so when he smokes the fumes blow in my direction and the motorbike taxi (no they don’t wear helmets!) comes and pulls up right in front of me.
I try to move spots and he wants my ticket, to take me to the ferry. Finally another guy interjects and says for me to stay and I fall sound asleep with my sarong drapped over my head.
“Hello” I faintly hear from a distance, “Hello Lady” I jolt up suddenly from my slumber on my bag as I sprawled on the sidewalk. “Your bus” I jump in and there they were, all the tourists. Some were the girls I had seen at the bus terminal in Bangkok. We were taken to another station where we had one hour before we were transported once more to the boat.
Arriving at the boat it all became clear to me. We had all taken different journeys. Some the train, some the Government bus, some the private bus straight from Koh Son Rd. and there we were, all arriving at the same destination.
So now I have relaxed swam, slept, become involved in a serious relationship with a new book called “The Mermaid Chair” and hoping to see a couple friends I had originally met in Bangkok. I may do a couple dives and some snorkeling. The heat seems to be a bit hypnotic in tat I tend to move slowly and with little intentions. The locals have smiles and think it’s fun to have me guess their age. They are always older than they look and we have a good laugh. When I have them guess my age the same happens and we laugh again! I teach them a new English vocabulary word and they practice and listen to how I say it over and over and then they try to teach me a word.
More laughs as the sounds are so different!
I miss being able to communicate better in the local languauge.

Cambodia

2008-06-17T21:43:00.001-07:00

Cambodia March 2007

Ahhhhhh Cambodia!
Land of the hot. humid, and dusty. Where over priced tourist attractions meet the poverty and village ways of people who dress their babies in nothing but a gold necklace, earrings, a bracelet and perhaps an anklet.
Ancient Wats waiting to be rediscovered by thousands of tourist being overcharged to run around crazy with little and big cameras alike still with their stickers on indicating they were just bought for the trip. Large tour groups with loads of Korean’s, Japaneses, Chinese all wearing a hat, most in long sleeves and many with some sort of umbrella to protect and shade them from the sun.
I in my shorts and tank top with a sporty back pack and inappropriate walking shoes, however better than the girls over dress and sporting 5 inch heels.
Zach and I headed to Cambodia after a few days of relaxing on Ko Chang (Ko means island in Thai) in South Eastern Thailand and saying good-bye to my other friend Nathan. We took a 10 minute taxi ride in the back of a pick up lined with benches. Winding up, down and around the hills of the island that’s entire interior is National Park.
Waiting in the blazing sun for the ferry to come we hunker under a palm and I jump at the chance to pull out my sarong and swim suit in hopes it will dry after my morning swim. We met the minivan parked outside at 8am filled with tourists all going to Siam Reap. We take a 40 minute ferry ride back to the mainland then jump back on the minibus that is “air conditioned” we make several stops not ever really believing we are “on the road” We head out for a 4ish hour ride on good road weaving in and out of traffic passing every vehicle that gets in our way and honking like it was a requirement. We pull into a place that says visa, we go in and give the women a photo, our passport, some money and a form we just filled out, she leaves and we all exchange looks as you normally do when someone walks away with your passport and money. Someone always smiles and says “hope she comes back” with a nervous but lite harted chuckle as it’s too hard to believe they actually wouldn’t!
Convientiently there was a restaurant attached to the visa building, and since we had 45 minutes and it was jut passed lunch time and who knows when or if dinner will happen we all grabbed food.
All at once (as it always seems to happen that way) it’s time to go. We all jump back in the minibus, but wait, where are the passports with our visas!? Someone was told we’ll get them at the border……. More looks were exchanged.
Getting out of the bus was all at once chaos, there was a Thai man that spoke good English that had jumped on the bus saying, “Welcome! I will be your escort across the border, keep everything close to you walking across the border as the people are very sneaky” when we got off the bus someone stuck me with a little piece of yellow tape and gave me my passport, it was a race for the border walking passed vendors and beggors, children stopping you in your tracks while you try to push by without hitting them with your giant bag. I looked up just in time to see a full grown man kick a little girl no more than 4 so hard both her feet came off the ground at the same time she let out a scream and instantly broke into tears. Just look ahead and walk I told myself so disturbed, sad, wanting to grab him by the hair and yell at him, but I just walked.\

Crossing through a corridor and coming out to a street the sights were an instant change. It’s illegal to gamble in Thailand so there are casinos that line the streets, but you can almost instantly tell the country is less developed and poorer by the modes of transport, the roads. We get in line to get our passport stamped while many tourists fallow suit behind. It feels about 110 degrees and I’m just feel as thought there is a layer of sweat covering my body.
There are fans place up high that help a little but everyone is miserable, Large bags are being kicked along on the dirty floor as nobody can be bothered to wear them for so long. (we get cut in front of) of well, the bus won’t leave without us. A Cambodian women sits down next to me and asks where I’m from, when she hears I’m American she replies “me too” granted her English is so bad I can hardly understand her, but then her husband sits down in his suit looking very clean and well to do. I’m from the United States I repeat, he answers, “me too” (we get cut in front of again)
So I did hear them right! He goes on and says they live in Tennessee! They had been living in California but moved, then a police officer comes and he gets excorted to the front and he’s apologizing as I notice his American Passport, but goes on his way because his nephew is waiting with his car to take them to their home that is 20 minutes away.
Somehow the line behind us is getting smaller and the line in front isn’t moving very fast. An hour plus later we notice there is NOBODY behind us, yes we are now in the back of the line! How this happened is still beyond us but it did, those sneaky people cutting in front of laid back us, I try to give people a little bumper so that I’m not crowding too much and WHOOSH just like that the space is soon filled with a sneaky person. Even a girl I was talking to from Korea that seemed so nice, quiet, and innocent, was a swooping cutter as well!!!!!!
Well, the bus did wait and we finally boarded and took a small bus to a terminal where we were told to change money into ‘real’ the Cambodian currency. I’m not going to be last so we hurry and get on the first bus. The old bus fills up fast and we are all just happy to be on our way as many of us had been told we’d be there by 8pm at the latest and it was already 4pm. The border crossing took so long! As we set out, our escort jumps up and says “welcome to Cambodia! The road is still not paved, but we are hoping it will be finished by 2008” We have about 160 km to Siam Reap and it will take 6-7 hours! There were many of those looks exchanged again. Zach and I sitting in opposite seats in different rows find each other and just laugh, it has already been such a long day! Not 30 minutes into the drive we hit a HUGE pothole and you could tell something wasn’t right with the already rickety bus. We pull over and everyone starts to get out of the car. We are really out in the openness of Cambodia. The sun is setting with a foreground of a few huts with children playing, a dirt road with cars attempting to whiz by and some young travels annoyed with the breakdown. Everyone lights a cigerette and Zach and I find some quiet on the other end of the bus away from the cigerette smoke and negative comments. I enjoyed watching the sunset and the landscaping falling at piece, Our bus driver in hi cut off jean shorts, sandels, big straw hat, and old shirt pulled out his cell phone! Triple ‘A’ maybe!? It started to get dark so I rummaged around to find my headlamp and gave to the drive as he laid under the bus trying to fix whatever was wrong. Shorty after a man on a motorbike pulls up and drops off some cables and a tool. A few of us clap as nobody knows how to say “thank you” in Cambodian (yet).
The bus is fixed, for now, and we are on our way!...........
We pull over again, this time it’s dark and people are more reluctant to get off the bus. We sat around for sometime trying to find entertainment in conversation, but everyone had such long days it was difficult to find interest. Somehow there was a building that someone ventured over to explore. It was a Cambodian style Costco! It was FILLED with boxes of various things. Water, candies, bread items, pencils, you name it. People found snacks and water to hydrate. There was a story in the Lonely Planet guide book of tour companies taking a longer more bumpy road to make the journey more uncomfortable so upon arrival when the bus just takes you to a guest house you will just stay. Someone brought this up and I rolled my eyes thinking how silly to fake a break down. They were planning on stopping, but at some restaurant along the way for dinner.
A girl with her sister on the back of the motorbike pull up and asked what happened, her solution is for all of us to come to her house, just beyond the bus. We say no thank you, and after a few more tries by the girls they go on there way. A moment later the two sisters are running down the road holding hands and giggling they approach our group and take my elbow pulling me and wanting us to go with her. I finally ablig and another girl came with me. We came to her home just near the bus and as we walked up to the room with no walls and about 10 people sitting around watching a small television the girl who was 20 and much shorter than I, but dressed in jeans and a zip up sweatshirt and hair in a ponytail, I teased her about the heat, had pulled a chair and insisted I sit down. She shoed away a boy lounging in another chair and offered it to her other guest. Everyone was looking at us, some would look a long time, some a short minute then look back at the Soap Opera type show that was playing. I pointed to someone and asked if she was a friend, she said, “no, sister” I did again to another girl, same answer, to a boy, “brother” she said, all family. I had to ask how many kids, “nine” and then a young Monk walked in, “my brother, the Monk” she said. My heart is beating fast, I never thought I could have this experience. I look over to my right from where I came and see a man with a Women facing him kneeling down and holding her hands as if praying to him, or paying respect, or something.
As they approach she says, “my Mother and Father” the man was dressed as I will later learn is a very common way this village people are dressed. A sarong type piece of cloth that is tied around the waist but is short, above the knee. I later saw men doing road construction work, lying around, working on the road, tending to their water source etc in this. As he comes closer I notice his entire bare chest is tattooed in a very ‘tribal’ looking way.
He says something his daughter that had brought us here and she translates and asks us where we are going? We say Angkor Wat, he wants to know why. I say, “to learn, and see” he asks but why, I don’t know what he wants to hear. She offers, “to visit?” I say “Yes, to visit” he English is great, she offers us something to drink, if we want to stay the night. We can stay and learn her language, she attempts to teach me how to count to 3, but the sounds are so foreign we all just laugh.
Finally time to go from this place, she seemed very pleased with our visit and it was nice to have such an authentic experience. Later while broken down a village man brings his shy little girl by the hand closer and he speaks enough English to ask how old his daughter is and what his name is. “James Bond” he replies, all of us laugh.
Around 1am we finally arrived in town, a good 7 hours later! Our ‘escort’ stood up and told us that since the bus station was closed and it was so late he has called and his friend has a hotel with enough rooms for all of us, both AC or with a fan. The suspiscion grew in the bus that they had planned all this. A lot of times the people that deliver travelrs to a hotel will get a good commission. I didn’t care it had been a very long day and I wanted a shower and a bed!

Chinese New Year

2008-06-17T21:42:00.001-07:00

Chinese New Year
Friday, February 16, 2007

The Chinese New Year is a huge celebration here! It is for a couple days and everyone is starting to prepare. I am currently back in Bangkok at my friend Nathan’s Aunt and Uncle’s apartment where I have enjoyed swimming the morning away with the seven year old Ananya and visiting the 3 year old Niska’s preschool to see some Chinese New Year dance. Nathan arrived today and we are relaxing and hoping to head off tomorrow morning to and Island called Ko Chang.
Yesterday I visited with an old friend Zach who may join us as well!
After Sukotai I headed to Chaing Mai and Stephanie went back to Bangkok. Chaing Mai at first glance was just another city. Great I thought I traveled all this way for another bus filled cement jungle of tourist traps and smog.
But the feel of the city was a relaxing one. Many back small streets, small places to eat, smiles on the locals, a couple yoga studios, and a laid back feel. I enjoyed eating at a vegetarian Thai buffet set outside by candle light. I found a pool to relax and swim in, I visited some hill tribes, and orchard/ butterfly farm. Did some shopping at the night market, and did some walking.
My two favorite interactions.... One was when I set out to get some lunch (hoping to find my 20 baht stall Paht Thai) but was struggling to see anything. I thought to myself “follow your nose little bunny” as the bunny from an old childhood book would often do to find his way. Just then an old Thai woman from across the street spotted me and came over in her boots and apron and wanted to know if I’d like some fruit from her stand. I told her “no thank you” and what I was looking for. Her soft hands reached out and she held my hand and told me she knew the best place. We walked a couple blocks stopping at her friends stand where I bought a fruit drink and continued on to where a woman made me some delicious lunch! It was just what I was looking for and some of the best I had so far. The woman called Tong was very pleased with herself and enjoyed practicing her english!
I said “thank you” several times and she just smiled and said “for good luck”
The Thai’s really think that doing good will bring good to them. It’s almost always done with a smile and everyone feels satisfied.
The other was when I was about to cross a busy street. (they drive on the left side of the road here so the looking left, then right, then left again as you are crossing could get you hit, it’s a bit tricky sometimes) So an old man with about 6 long grey hairs growing from his chin smiled and said “hello” in Thai and walked out in the street looking both ways and made sure I made it safely across when he turned back. I thought he was crossing as well, but when I realized he was just making sure I was safe I thanked him again with a big smile and got the same response as before. Both of us walked in our seperate directions with smiles of satisfaction from ear to ear.

Monkeys

2008-06-17T21:40:00.000-07:00

Monkeys

Sunday, February 11, 2007

I am safe an sound in Sukhotai
to see some Wats by day
After Bangkok, Stephanie and I headed to a small town to see some waterfalls and the Bridge over the Kwai River from World War two.
From Sukhotai we took a public bus 1.5 hours to a national park that has a 7 tiered waterfall, we spent the morning and early afternoon hiking and swimming at the bases, and between the 6th and 7th tier we ran into our first monkey sitting in a tree.
not scared by our scream it sat there next to its friend as we climbed up a ladder.
we were stuck waiting for other tourists coming down so we sat looking at the monkeys
there was one carrying its young and it came at me for a minute but i got away.
at the top of the falls we sat on a rock in the sun and i'd get in the water to swim braving the fish and exploring behind the falls
we had a few snacks in our packs and as we sat (with them in our hands)
one came over and grabbed a bag right out of Stephanie’s hand
a ranger hear and ran over with is sling shot!!!
the monkeys were about a foot tall and showed their teeth and claws and didn't seem frightened by us in the least
one boy turned and got on all fours and they'd pounce back and forth at each other.
I wanted nothing to do with encouraging this behavior and we decided to pack up
while i was packing my bag up 2 came back I tried to scare it away but it came at me
very afraid he ended up with a snack of mine and the ranger returned with his sling shot
the monkeys were afraid of him being 20 feet away with that but not me 1 foot away yelling and waving around
CRAZY MONKEY
we biked around town and visited the Bridge.
There is also a cemetary in town with plaques from some of the thousands of POW's that died during the building of the bridge.
We road our bikes to a market that had no tourists and ate some sticky rice and mango and had this amazing cold tea
The town was small and we found a small restaurant with pads on the ground you could lounge on and have a lazy meal.
Most all the locals are nice and good spirited, finding it fun to help us with our Thai and sometimes taking pictures of us with our white skin!
We splurged on a massage that was only 6 dollars for an hour which is what I've been paying for rooms at night
or a 6 hour bus ride.
fresh fruit 10 baht(35 bhat to the dollar)
i can get Paht Thai off the street for 20 bhat, a nice restaurant will have a bowl of soup for about 50 baht
oh i almost forgot about our cooking class!
we took an AMAZING cooking class with a (women) man named Mickey
it was about 5 hours, first we went to the market and Mickey showed us what we were buying and if we didn't have it in the States (or wherever we came from what we could use)
we made 6 dishes, but Tom Yam soup we made 5 variations. plus a couple extra dishes at the end
and yes trying it all!!
I told mickey that she should have her own cooking show, and she does but only in the town we were in!
Yesterday we went to Ayuthia and took a night tour of the Wats, they are lit up at night and we had a Tuk Tuk all to our selves.
we stayed on the river in an old Teak house that was SO hot!!!
today a 6 hour bus to Sukhotai where we are staying in a little bungalow
and tomorrow going to look at some Wats by day
Stephanie and i are parting ways in a day or two
and I'm not sure what I'm doing, I may go up to Chaing Mai?!
the air is very smokey here and I’m ready for a change in that, perhaps another country, or the beach?!?!

Portland - Seattle - Taipei - Bangkok

2008-06-17T21:39:00.001-07:00

Friday, February 2, 2007

Portland - Seattle - Taipei - Bangkok

Flying Portland to Seattle I made friends with a young women named Sweet from India who just finished her four year undergrad degree in 2.5 years!!
Once in Seattle we had a 4.5 hour layover but the time passed as we made friends with another traveler named David setting off on a 10 month volunteer job with disabaled children in Vietnam. He was there over 30 years ago during the war and hasn’t returned until now. The man I sat next to on the plane is returning to see his wife in Indonesia. Another man going to East Timor, who already speaks around 8ish (probably ten because he seemed modest) languages! A women, Marylin, flying to see one of her twin sons who is an exchange student for a full year in Thailand while the other 16 year old is in Austria!
Everyone and there story, all traveling together, enduring turbulence (not bad), personal television screens in front of every chair with enough movies, tv shows, music, to last the whole 14 hour journey from Seattle to Taipei.
“Good Luck” “See you later” the exchange of emails has already taken place. Looking out for one another, picking up where another is lost or unsure. Providing guidance, when our families and loved ones are so far away. It’s as though we all took the same oath and are abiding by it. The travelers oath.

I have one leg left in my flight before arriving in Bangkok, Ideas are swimming through my head as I think of the possibilities. I hope to find some peace and contentment while in Asia. Maybe a cooking class, endulging in some massage, see some temples, take photos, hopefully climb, maybe SCUBA dive, I want to keep up a journal and communications with my friends and family!
As of now, when I arrive in Bangkok I am planning on finding my friend Nathan’s aunt’s apartment for a night or two.
peace and good times

Dispatch #9 4/2/2006 Condoriri Group

2008-06-17T21:32:00.001-07:00

Dispatch #9b     4/2/2006      Condoriri Group

The good come with the bad and recently it seems like more of the bad. The best we can do is try to absorb it and take some good away.

I visited Bolivia 2 years ago and trekked from the town of Sorata, where the beginning of the Range of the Andes known as the Corderilla Real begin to Tuni a “town” about 2 hours outside of La Paz just a mountain over from the end of the Cordirrella Real. This “town” consists of 5 families, with the outlying communities even less. My friend Jen and I spent our last night of our 2 week trek camped at a beautiful lake at the base of the mountain Condoriri (the condor) surrounded by other intriguing mountains. The one night wasn’t enough for me and I wanted to spend more time in the area and climb Condoriri. So, for two years I have thought about returning to this magical place filled with mountains, lakes, llamas, and some of the most hardcore women I have ever encountered.

As you know I had been sick since we entered Bolivia, our 5-day tour from Tupiza to Uyuni was spent feeling awful. So we spent close to a week in La Paz just trying to get me feeling better and hoping for better weather. Finally we decided to head out to Tuni and make the 3-5 hour hike to the base of Laguna Churi Kota where our base camp would be. The drive from La Paz to Tuni was nothing short of typical, leaving the city was twisty and the streets hilly like San Fransisco, we dodged buses and other taxis, passing when you would never think appropriate to pass. The tire blew out and we had to change the tires on the side of the road next to people working in the Quinia fields. We arrived in Tuni, hired a woman named Regina and her two burros, as she went to retrieve the burros from grazing we watched another women herding animals up a hill while spinning a ball of llama fur into yarn. We loaded up and headed up valley to our base camp.

Despite Chris acquiring blisters on his heels and stopping to tape up, and me hacking and blowing snot rockets the whole way thinking we were making poor timing. Our phenomenal local woman in charge of our burros, Regina 26, and her two burros that were loaded with winter clothes and climbing gear were impressed with our timing of 2.5 hours. The kind gentleman he is, Chris set up the tent while Regina and I sat and talked about life. The two years she went away to school to learn to read, all the other animals she has, how she has to walk the dirt road it took us an hour to drive up and take a bus to La Paz where she can sell llama meat to buy food, as there is no farming vegetables in Tuni because of the cold climate. It had rained a little on the hike up but was now stable, she left and we cooked dinner and relaxed. We decided the next morning would be spent resting and perhaps taking a day hike to a nearby glacier then summiting the following morning, Cabeza de Condor. We slept badly that night 5,000 meters (15,000 ft) will do that. The middle of the night lighting storm down valley with reflections of the lighting bouncing off the glacier brought us both out of the tent to watch and wonder if it was coming up to where we were. The morning was clear and the views of the summit were inviting and encouraging. We decided to cook a little soup for a late breakfast and as we finally finished cooking a local woman began to approach our desolate campsite on the other end of the lake and up the valley from any of the houses. We greeted her and asked what she was doing. She just said walking, we offered her some soup, giving her one of our bowls and spoon, and she feed her 6-month-old baby girl a little. Her native language is Aymara and her accent thick made it difficult to understand her Spanish. She breast feed and bounced around little Maria on her knee. I offered them both a cookie as the time passed. She finally asked if we wanted to buy a llama hat that she had made from the llamas she owned, spun the yarn and knitted the hats. We explained that we had to pay for our burros and that there was a site fee for us to camp here. She didn’t seem to understand we didn’t have enough extra money for these hats and between conversations continued to ask us time and time again to please buy. Once while she was bouncing her baby and looked so happy with the mountain shining in the background I asked if I could take a photo of her (as I would any friend sitting in front of such a pretty mountain) she said know and I brushed it off. As we continued to talk she wanted to know if she could take us back to Tuni with he pack animals, she’d charge less and wanted to know how much we had paid for ours. We said we had made other arrangements with Regina but thank you. Later I asked again to take a photo and after her saying “no” again, I asked if she just didn’t like people taking photos. She laughed a bit and explained that people from other countries usually paid her money for photos, and sometimes people from the United States paid even more. This gave me a little twinge of anger as I had been feeling like we were being more friends than business partners.
            I decided to go get water for tea, and walked to the lake through tears in my eyes. When I returned from the water, I sat and boiled water, I was very frustrated as I listening to Chris now trying to explain that we come to the mountains for solitude and that maybe she should go. She asked how we got to Tuni and after explaining it was by private car she wanted to know how much we paid, how much we paid for the burros, for the campsite, I was tearful and responded that it wasn’t important. She asked again, I asked “Why?” She didn’t seem to know what to say. In my horrible Spanish and tearful state I tried to explain that when we go to the mountains, or anywhere, everyone is our friend. We try to welcome everyone the same, and help and make conversation. In the US when we go to the mountains we don’t carry any money with us because we don’t need to. In the US we are considered poor, we don’t have a house, a car, a telephone, only what she saw in front of us. (At one point she wanted to trade the hat for some equipment, and we had said that the equipment was our life, our livelihood) I said that all everyone wanted here was our money; they just thought we had tons of money, and always carried it. She never responded to what I said and continue to sit there. The rains were coming and we told her she should go especially to keep her baby dry. She didn’t seem to care and just sat there. Finally we bid her farewell and luck and went into our tent hoping she would go. After a short while she finally left. We were both heart broken from the encounter, I was a little more upset and took the encounter fairly personally as I thought we were befriending her.
            After a couple hours of rain we emerged, Chris throwing on his boots to see how his tape job was, I began dinner. Pasta, vegetables, and red sauce, we filled up fast being at the altitude we were and dark seem to creep up fast. We quickly packed up for our 1am departure and early morning ascent. We crawled into bed early both feeling nausea, and cramps stomachs. Maybe indigestion? Feeling like dinner was going to come out, just not sure which end.
I awoke around 11pm thinking that if I didn’t move I wouldn’t throw up. Then the whooping in the stomach came, grabbing my headlamp, and my little ditty I keep my tp in, I tried desperately to open the tent door, get on my shoes, and fiddle getting the vestibule open, it was all I could to make it out of that tent, the cold didn’t bother be so much at first with my silk weight underwear on as I dumped what I thought was all the food in my intestine liquid style. I grabbed some water and my down jacket and sat on a rock watching the lightening down valley reflect off the night sky and surrounding glaciers thinking that it may come up the other end, hoping maybe it’d make me feel better. No such luck, back out the bottom end for a second round. Chris fittled in the first aide kit for some Pepto, "that should do it", I thought. I crawled back into bed for a little sleep. Not 45 minutes later I was jolted back out of the tent, this time I was smart in leaving open the vestibule and grabbed my down. Another two rounds and I sat on my rock feeling refreshed by the cool air and sobbing that I was blowing our summit chance. I was exhausted, my stomach working overtime and feeling extremely dehydrated. I tried to drink my Gu2O (electrolyte) filled water and stay warm as I rocked myself crying into the night sky apologizing to Chris for keeping him awake and for ruining our climbing attempt. He wondered if I should start taking the Cipro (an antibiotic) and I decided I needed some sleep and to not loose too many more liquids and opted for some Imodium, as the diarrhea just started and if it persisted through the following day, then I’d reconsider. As I crawled back into the tent feeling as though I had not slept at all in the past 4 hours, the alarm sounded and Chris jokingly asked if I was ready to climb. I moaned and snuggled in. I slept for another couple when I was running to the rock again for more, it was a routine now, and I found some comfort on my little rock by the tent with the clouds moving in I was thankful that it wasn’t raining or snowing, that we weren’t on a glacier. But still, I just wanted to sleep. It seemed as though I had nothing left to excrete and maybe the Imodium was helping. I seemed to sleep into the morning, only having a few small episodes.
Chris took my pulse when I woke up that was racing at 120 beats per minute!!! We were both tired from the long night and rested and slept. I seemed to sleep more through the rain and into the early afternoon. Eating only a half a piece of bread and drinking my electrolyte filled water I was not in any shape for another summit attempt that night. In the middle of the long rains that afternoon the woman, Elaine and her baby Maria from the day before should up at our tent door. Chris sat up and tried to talk with her a bit through our screen door as the rain came in sideways. Elaine was breast feeding again and wanted to know if we’d like to go down, that she could bring her mules for us. Chris explained AGAIN that we had arranged this transport for the next morning with Regina, and no thank you. Chris said she brought her little sack with the homemade hats again, and kept her hand in it showing the fabric a bit as to entice us perhaps. Chris told her it wasn’t healthy to be walking around in such weather with her little baby, but she just smiled. He told her she should go back to her house for shelter, but she just sat there bouncing Maria around, finally she asked if we had anymore cookies, and as they were packed far away in a dry bag, he just said know. It was very uncomfortable, us dry and warm in our down sleeping bags and bright colors, while she said in the rain with only a wool blanket to protect her. Finally Chris said that our stuff was getting wet and he needed to close the door to the tent. We wished her luck and a good day. We watched her walk in the rain through the little plastic window of our impermeable tent. That short interaction left us drained and unsure of ourselves and her.
            We spent the rest of the relaxing in the tent playing Back Gammin, reading, day dreaming that with the tent all closed up with no views and the sound of rain, we could be ANYWHERE in the world, (especially Oregon). Night fell with dinner consisting of another bread roll with a little butter. Both our stomachs churning, and Chris waking me up in the middle of the night to ask if my stomach hurt as much as his, as it was as load as his. I didn’t go to the bathroom once that night, as I normally pee at least once usually twice while camping when I’m hydrated. This just should me how dehydrated I had gotten, and was miserably tossing and turning the night away with racing dreams, and a raging headache. Dawn broke and I finally felt as though I had to pee, just pee, “yes!” only pee, I got out of the tent to relieve my bladder, and was disappointed when I was joined with more diarrehea. We rested until 10am when we made ourselves get out of the tent and start slowly and painfully packing up camp. It was all I could do to walk down to the lake and pump water while Chris played spy on a group of llamas and snuck up on them while hiding behind rocks in his boxers and primaloft coat and flip flops. The sun was out and dried things out nicely, but down valley were dark threatening clouds, we’d know bring the afternoon rain. South America is much like the islands, people are laid back and when you say a time like noon, it could mean anywhere from 11:30am to 2pm. So we left the tent to pack last but Regina is a good hardworking woman, and we saw here cresting the last hill to make the journey around the lake to our campsite. We finished packing we spent a few minutes chating and taking some photos before packing up the burro and beginning the short walk down to the road.
            It took us 2.5 hours to hike up to our base camp, so we extimated at the most it would take 1.5 hours to hike back, as we both had eaten only some bread in the past 40 hours and were very weak. We all walked together and it wasn’t 10 minutes into the descent when those dark rain clouds were over us and dumping it’s moisture in the form of hail and rain. My caugh began to act up and we shortly encountered a German woman and her local Bolivian hiking guide going up for a couple days of trekking. They asked us about the weather and views. Telling them it rained everyday but was beautiful. At this point the rain had ceased and she seemed to be optimistic, once again we wished her luck and pressed on. I fell behined as I was futsing with my camera. The rains began again, harder this time and more consistant. I was feeling more and more tired and hoped the rain would stop, looking at my watch, thinking we should be closer than we were. As the final stretch came into sight I was cold, wet, exhausted and once again in tears. Chris and Regina were at the car, that goodness it was there! It took us 2.5 hours to get down! Chris only a few minutes ahead of me and he was in tears himself, thinking his heels were bleeding. I had wanted to get into our food bag and give Regina our left over food and thank her more. All I could do was sit my butt in the car and get off some of my wet clothes. Regina’s sister hitched a ride with us down valley and all I could do was cry, happy to be on our way to La Paz, a toilet, bed, shower, frustrated with my feeling sick, not summitiing, not giving Regina more.
            Regina, wow, can I say enough. This woman, as most of the indeginous woman are, HARDCORE! Regina lives at about 14,000 feet, takes care of 5 burros, 1 mule, 25 llamas, 30 chickens, and is a single mother of 3! Did I mention she’s 25? She maintains her feminity by always wearing a skirt, two long breads down to her bum with decrotative hair on the ends. She wears dress shoes with no socks, while we are hiking in boots with orthodics, gators, water proof clothing. She draps a pretty wool blanket over knitted sweater, AND she still walks faster than either one of us!! WOW!

Dispatch #8 Tupiza to Uyuni, Bolivia 3/20/2006

2008-06-17T21:31:00.001-07:00

Dispatch #8 Tupiza to Uyuni, Bolivia 3/20/2006

Cowboys and Boulders

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid had made their way to the little town of Tupiza, so why shouldn’t we? We arrived in the painted-desert town of Tupiza on the morning of the March 15th. The bus ride from the border of Argentina had been a long and bumpy one, and the warm gentle colors of the sandstone cliffs embraced our tired eyes. Upon first glance this place could easily be mistaken for the desert southwest of the United States, barren, spotted with small resilient and fierce plants, towers of sedimentary material, and radiant hues of reds and oranges, just like Arizona and New Mexico. The sky was so blue and the rock walls begged for our attention.

The streets of Tupiza, we imaged are much the same now as when the two most famous members of the Ft. Worth Five, known only to me as Paul Newman and Robert Redford rode through dirt roads. They were outlaws here as they were in the United States and they had met their end just outside of town. The first thing on Jessica’s mind, beyond lunch, was to find a pair of horses and set off on the getaway trail of these two “American West Outlaws”.

That afternoon we hired a guide and two horses and struck out onto the hills and canyons that surrounded this speck of a town. The trail was much like we had anticipated, aired, dry, with the sun so intense we felt like we had been riding for days. Although Jess felt like a real cowgirl, as her horse brilliantly galloped through the dry river bed, I felt like the Dusty Bottoms from Three Amigos, barely able to stay on a horse that I still believe to this day to be drunk. We rode only for three hours, but that was enough for us, I don’t know how cowboys ever did it in the old west, riding for days on end. We raced through drainages and spires of dubious quality before we arrived at Canyon de Inca. It was a tight slot canyon laced with a small stream and tiny cascading waterfalls. Our horses needed a rest, so we all drank from the little ribbon of water as the sun set behind the canyon, how John Wayne of us.

That night after trotting back into town we arranged jeep transport to an area outside of town, we had suspected to have some quality stone. The next morning the jeep arrived at 7 a.m.; the tops of the hills that cradled Tupiza were already lit in an amber glow. The driver took us to a pull out not far from town were we could see our destination. A sandstone spire known only as “The Torre” sat in the distance. No one knew if it actually had ever been climbed, but we were going to find out anyway. It was a half an hour walk to the base involving a river crossing, traversing a railroad bridge, and passing through numerous crop fields. Before crossing the river we had run into a gentleman, a teacher, at the small school just up the hill. In order for this man to get to his students everyday he had to hitchhike from Tupiza to the pull-out, roll up his pants and cross the river, hike another mile up the hill, all the while caring school supplies for his children. At this point everyone should take a moment to salute the dedicated teachers of the world. They should always know their worth in this world…….
We spoke with him for a few moments before we parted for the Torre. The spire was spectacular, and very dangerous. The rock was by no means solid, and by my estimates, had never been climbed. The ascent of this tower would require fixed protection, having no seams or cracks apparent to us. We were not prepared to bolt or hammer anything onto this pristine relic, so we trekked around the river and found other potential climbing areas. We felt discouraged by the poor rock quality, and spent the majority of the afternoon enjoying the river and speaking to local farmers and goat herders. We were picked up that afternoon and went back to the agency that had arranged our tours thus far. We wanted to talk to them about potentially hiring a jeep for 5 days to explore the south west corner of Bolivia and deliver us the Salt Flat or, the Solar de Uyuni, just west of he town of Uyuni. That evening we bartered and pleaded with this agency to give us more time with the jeep and more opportunities to climb, but the tour company was insistent that we adhere to the agenda of the pre-set tour. Jess ended up finding another smaller local tour company that was reasonably priced, fair, and could cater to our specific goals; the company is called Explore Andina Tours. The agency, run by two brothers, Jose and Pedro were going to set out the next morning and would take us in a long arching circle to Uyuni on a 5 day tour.

At 9:30 a.m. we left for the small village of San Antonio some 8 hours from Tupiza. Accompanying Jessica, Pedro, and I was Pedro’s sister-n-law, a 20 year old named Nilda, who would act as our cook, and explore the area for her first time. The 5-day drive was completely on dirt road, sometimes, no road at all, and the average speed of the jeep was about 30 mph. We stopped for lunch in a lush meadow, where hundreds of llamas were also dinning. The llamas paid us little attention and we ate along side them as members of the herd. We continued on the dusty road until we reached the village of San Antonio around sunset. We were the only white faces in this tiny little pueblo. We did not receive a warm welcome by the locals. While walking through town just before dark I was threatened by several teenagers. Upon seeing me, they all three put their thumbs to their necks and did a slicing motion across their throats, and waved me on. I gave an intimidated laugh, and with my broken Spanish I confronted them, and tried to make friends. An hour later we were all playing futbol together while Jess took pictures of the most amazing sunset we had seen thus far. That evening we had a lengthy conversation with Jose, Pedro, and Nilda, about the current state of Bolivia and the pros and cons of the tourism market in their country. Jess and I felt disgusted by the mentality of the tourists we had seen so far, who all and all were disrespectful, exploitive, and overly demanding of the Bolivian people. We felt disgrace when the word “tourist” was brought up. As the evening waned on we tried to find a balance in the conversation and tried to understand the mentality of this poor nation. Our Bolivian friends were once again our guides.

The next morning we arose early and embarked on another long day. The goal by the days end was the pristine green water of Laguna Verde, and more specifically the 6,000-meter volcano known as Licancabur, we planned to climb. The wind was wild and it didn’t seem to warm up until after noon. For lunch we stopped in this oasis of a valley lined with boulders. As Nilda made us lunch, Jess and I sought out boulder problems. We found untouched beauty only minutes from the jeep. I was inspired immediately by a 20’ boulder in the middle of the valley protected only by a handful of fluffy llamas. The problem was steep and lent itself to my style perfectly. Pockets and flakes adorned this old giant, and after climbing the hardest problem I could, we ran back for lunch. Jess was feeling a bit ill. She had been on the steady decline since we had left Tupiza. After a meal of vegetables, eggs, aji, and bread, once again we set out for the cliffs that embraced this lush landscape. The weather was changing rapidly, while thunder and lightening was not far behind us. I soloed up a 30’ problem as the rain came down. I descended and we raced back to the car. The jeep swiped and swerved on the muddy road as it tried to outrun the torment approaching. Four hours later we had beaten the rain and crested over the top of a long gentle hill to see the glorious turquoise lake of Laguna Verde. The wind was fierce and swept ripples across the semi-metallic surface. We took a few moments to observe the volcano that loomed over the lake. Volcan Licancabur is an ominous looking volcano; it had very little snow, and posed little technical challenge. We needed to climb this mountain primarily for acclimatization purposes. Pedro drove us to a refuge within the park boundary so that we could arrange our gear and prepare to climb the hulking volcano the next morning. After reaching the refugio, we were escorted to the administration office of the national park, where the volcano sat. Then, local officials told us, that we were not allowed to climb the mountain without a Bolivian guide, and further more we must pay an additional $45 US dollars per person. Finding out this NEW information, on top of the fee we had already paid to Pedro to be in this location, did not sit well with either Jessica or myself. Ethically and aesthetically we felt conflicted. By the night’s end we had decided to forgo climbing the volcano and continue on our tour in search of new rock climbing, or a different volcano, and NO more fees.

At 6 a.m. we rose, loaded the jeep, drank matte, ate bread and began again. Jessica was feeling worse and worse. She had not been able to sleep the night before, and her uncomfort was expressed in her every subtle movement. She tried desperately to sleep in the jeep, but the rough road made it impossible for her to rest. She hacked and coughed all morning long. When the jeep reached the 5,000-meter mark we saw steam radiating from below. The steam was being created by a huge expanse of geysers that were taking turns releasing plumes of smoke into the air. We spent an hour marveling at the ash colored material as it bubbled and boiled and eventually overtaken by steam. We took a few tentative photos from the edge and continued on. The jeep lumbered up onto a spectacular ridge that revealed a massive pink laguna with thousands, yes thousands, of flamingos. Jessica sprang to life like a National Geographic photographer, yelling to Pedro to, “PARE, PARE, Por Favor!!!” She grabbed her enormous camera, lenses, tripod, and she was gone. She crept by the lakes edge, snapping photo after photo, the flamingos cooing and wading away in the vast reflecting pool. Jess was smiling ear to ear, and was reluctant to leave. That afternoon we had lunch in Valle de Rocas. Valle de Rocas is just like it sounds, a valley chocked full of rocks. This would prove to be my highlight. Again Nilda prepared lunch, rice and eggs, while Jess and I went to play in the garden of rocks. After climbing and falling on several of the most attractive boulders, we ate lunch and sped off to the town of Alota.

That afternoon as we continued on our journey we saw many cliffs and towers, many have never been climbed, we thought, “if we only had time.” In Alota we made plans to return to “Valley of the Rocks” the next day. In the evening I set up a slack-line and taught our friends, and some of the locals, all about a climbers pass time of slack lining. It was good fun and seemed to bring smiles to everyone’s faces. Jess spent most of the evening in bed. She was still not feeling well. She stayed wrapped up in her Moonstone sleeping bag, with her alpaca beanie on, until dinner. At 8 p.m. we ate heartily and discussed various topics with our guides.

Jess needed the rest, and the next morning we didn’t depart until almost 9 a.m. We headed back to the rock band just outside of town hoping to do a little roped climbing, as the townspeople thought we could drive out there, but with a closer look we realized there was a swampy river that separated us from the inticing rock. Without knowing the quality of rock, and the frustrating walk the swamp presented we opted to backtrack another 10 minutes to the bouldering field. We spent a solid half day exploring, climbing, taking photos, and getting our friends Nilda and Pedro to run up a couple boulders. We had a late lunch in the small town of San Cristobal where Jess could photograph the beutiful church and we could eat in a local lunch house. We drove the remainder of the distance to the tourist town of Uyuni. This town is a prime stop on the gringo trail and we were not pleased to be there. This said we were delighted by the thought of getting to spend time on the largest salt flat in the world, which forms the western border of Uyuni. We walked through Uyuni in the afternoon, but were sickened by the amount of garbage, and tourists that filled the streets. Our small room just off the main square was filthy, and with Jess not feeling well, the thought of moving onto La Paz was a welcomed one. In the morning we drove one last time in the jeep out onto the Salt Flat. It was endless. The southwestern corner of the salt flat was full of water, so we had to enter from the east. There was still much water on the surface of the salt, which revealed an eerie reflection of the stormy ski above. Our goal for the morning was to reach the Salt Hotel, which sits an hour into the drive and is constructed completely out of salt. On the way to the Salt Hotel however a stranded jeep flagged us down. A family of Israelis pilled out of the Land Cruiser, exhausted and angry. The day prior they had been out on the salt flats for a half-day tour when their jeep ran out of gas. With no radio, phone, or gas, they were stuck. They had spent the night in a storm on the flat where the temperature had dropped significantly. Their guide had explained, that after visiting one of the islands on the flat they got lost on their return to town because of all the water, and consequently had forgotten to fill the truck with gas before leaving from Uyuni. Disgusted with their guide they jumped into our jeep and continued on with us. As they recounted their story Jess and I felt pleased with our fortune on this trip, all things considered. We toured the Salt Hotel took snap shots and drove back to town. We had very interesting conversations with our new Israel friends, but had to say good-bye once we arrived back in Uyuni.

In the afternoon we packed once again and mentally prepared ourselves for another long bus ride. We new the ride from Uyuni to La Paz was going to be a long one, but we had no idea how bad it would be. We left on the bus at about 8 p.m. and arrived in La Paz eleven hours later. As we stepped out of the “tenement on wheels” we felt exhausted, famished, and confused, but in one piece and in the capitol city of Bolivia, La Paz.

Now we are preparing to climb a mountain just north east of La Paz in the Cordillera Real, known as Huayna Potosi (6,088 meters). The route we are going to attempt is a demanding line on the west face, the largest face in Bolivia, a 70 degree 1,000 meter wall of ice. The route should take us only a few days, and then we will come back to La Paz once again to prepare to climb Condoriri or Cabeza de Condor (5,648 meters). The route we will attempt on Condoriri is a direct line of 70 degrees, if completed we will be the first to climb it this year. Jess is currently still sick, so we are waiting in La Paz until her health is better and the weather stables a bit, which has not been ideal either.

Thank you, as usual, for taking the time to read these massive dispatches. I was hoping to keep them a bit shorter, but we are finding so many things we want to share that it is hard to keep our words to a minimum. Thank you for reading. Our next dispatch should be up next week, as we will be in and out of the capitol city. As we have said in the past, we love feedback, so please keep those questions and comments coming!

Thanks so much

Dispatch #7 March 21, 2006 La Paz, Bolivia

2008-06-17T21:30:00.002-07:00

Dispatch #7 March 21, 2006 La Paz, Bolivia

The worst bus ride yet. Eleven hours from Uyuni to La Paz, Bolivia. The bus had less legroom than an airplane and the isle was filled with bags and people standing, sitting, and finding any possible space to land. A Mother and her two daughters, no more than 8 years old, all dressed in traditional Bolivian wear; skirts, blankets draped over their shoulders pinned with a small pin. Leg warmers made from Llama fur with intricate designs and sandals stemmed from under their skirts. While the Mother never took off her brown little hat and the girls laid flat passed out in the front of the bus with their little feet sticking out from a blanket. We rolled into La Paz at 7 am; the huge city was already in a bustle, the mini buses working, people setting up their stands to sell various items. We took the winding, steep, San Francisco style streets down towards the bus terminal, as the city sits down in the valley with the huge 6,000-meter (20,000 ft) mountain, Illimani looming over the city that sits around 12,000 ft. Near the bus terminal we saw the dreaded. There was a building that had all it’s windows broken out, some power lines were down, as we kept looking the following 3 buildings were the same, some of the building material had crumbled and there were 3 Bolivian policeman standing outside. There had been an explosion. We were not feeling welcomed, or excited to venture off into the city. After collecting our bags and loading a taxi, we drove back by the mess; now there was yellow caution tape up, a crowd had formed, and news crews were taping live, interviewing the locals. Apparently we had miss the explosion only by an hour, and another explosion had gone off the night before only half a block from a restaurant we eat at, and two blocks from our hotel. We heard speculations the bombers were anti Evo Morales (the new President of Bolivia) acts, another speculation was they were Osama Bin Laden admires. Non-the less we headed to the US Embassy to learn more, and to register. We are safe, and are asking questions and trying to learn more information.
The days and areas we’ve been since the last dispatch, leading up to this have been very different. It all started as usual on an overnight bus from Salta, Argentina to La Quica Argentina the furthest Northern city in the country, while Ushuia the furthest Southern city in the world sits over 5,000km south. I think the bus ride could have been about 2 hours instead of the 7 it was had it not stopped at every city. We were going on little sleep and somehow feeling more exhausted after the bus ride then we do after a week in the mountains. The moon full, the night dark, the air cold, pigeons purring sitting at the border crossing to Bolivia and there is a Coke machine!! It was 5am and we had to wait for the border to open at 6:30am boys on bicycles crossing from Bolivia to Argentina with no papers and no cares from the border patrol. Chris attempted to take a photo of the 3 guards, he specifically wanted them to pose like hear, speak, and see no evil. I watched a funny game of charades, from afar and the men saying no to him, the then the next thing I knew he was drinking coffee in their office.
It’s always scary going to a new city. While in South America it always seems more so because our language skills are poor and we don’t have any information about hotels etc. But crossing into a new country especially a third world country is even more so.
We walked across the border (a small bridge) took a taxi to a “bus stop” caught a jacked up red bus with huge tires the 3 hours to Tupiza. A beautiful town nestled at the base of red cliff bands, surrounded by green fields and sunflowers.

Dispatch #6 March 11, 2006 Los Gigantes, Argentina

2008-06-17T21:30:00.001-07:00

Dispatch #6 March 11, 2006 Los Gigantes, Argentina

Finally, stable weather. We have just returned from climbing the granite domes of Los Gigantes (the Giants), just outside Cordoba, Argentina. The weather was perfect; the granite was solid, and the climbing wonderful.

The trip started with the exodus from Mendoza. We climbed the night before leaving Mendoza at the CAM (Club Andenista de Mendoza) indoor climbing wall. The climbing there was fun and we ran into the same climbers that had helped us retrieve our climbing rope in Los Arenales a few days prior. It was great fun and although the wall itself was structurally not the highest quality, we climbed all the same and had fun. On the way back to the hotel, at the bus stop, we met a wonderful boy named Pablo. That night and the days surrounding, there was a national wine festival in Mendoza, the streets were empty, save the 3-mile radius of the town square. Taxis and buses were full of people heading to the festival. Pablo offered to walk with us and show us a back way to our hotel avoiding the massive crowds. Pablo befriended us, practiced his English, which was very good already, joined us for a late night pizza, and ended up inviting us to his family’s house for lunch the next day.

The next afternoon after making arrangements to leave the city, we met up once again with our new friend Pablo. Pablo and his father picked us up and took us to their home on the outskirts of Mendoza. It was a modest and warm home that kept a beautiful family safe and content. The family consisted of four wise and worldly brothers, hard working father and a proud and concerned mother, both having to deal with an empty nest soon! They made us Milanese de Soya (breaded soy, which is not too common in one of the biggest meat eating/producing countries in the world) we ate homemade tomato sauce, fruit, drank, soda, fresh squeezed OJ, and of course, wine. We all talked about politics (mainly all of our discontentment with President Bush), religion, music, and history. The conversation was refreshing and gave us a renewed hope in the intelligence of global humanity and the future relationship between North and South America; Bush has worked so hard to destroy. We felt like ambassadors of good will, trying desperately to repair burnt bridges. That afternoon Pablo’s entire family took us to the bus terminal and we bid our farewells as though Jess and I were distant cousins leaving after a visit cut too short. It was sad, but we were glad Pablo had befriended us, and we felt rejuvenated from our positive experience.

Our 9-hour over night bus took us from Mendoza to the second largest city in Argentina, Cordoba. It is a nice city, but as always, it was a stopping point for higher ground. Our destination was a rock climbing area called Los Gigantes some 2 hours by bus from Cordoba’s city center. We arrived Sunday morning at 7am. EVERYTHING is closed on Sundays so we had to wait until Monday before finding a guidebook to our destination at a local climbing shop, we quickly reorganized gear and figured out exactly where and when the one bus a day departs from Cordoba to Los Gigantes.

Monday morning 6:00 am we caught our collectivo (a small public bus, notorious for its unreliability) to Los Gigantes. After paying 16 pesos for the two of us (about $5) and enduring a very bumpy ride we were dropped some 4 miles from the rock. The mountains of “the Giants” consisted of huge granite domes and looked like a crocodiles back stretched over many kilometers. We began our walk. Within two hours we were in the thick of a rocky playground. It took us quite some time to find a flat and wind protected place to pitch our shelter. That evening we set out to explore our new found oasis.

I have to say that our camp, while not exactly level, was defiantly a most beautiful site. It perched on an outcropping of grass, surrounded by boulders, seconds from a postcard-esk stream and minutes from multi-pitch rock climbing, heaven. The weather that evening and into the next morning was stormy, but subsided around noon and we left our shelter in search of good long routes to climb. The first route we climbed was a moderate 5+, (5.10-) bolted route called Mirando al Sol. Although the route was a little dirty (moss and small plants that dotted the wall like a Bob Ross painting) the rock was solid and made for fun climbing. As we descended we heard voices not far up the valley. We ran into more brothers/sister, five Argentineans, “hippies” as they called themselves sat at the base of a beautiful gargoyle like formation. As we spoke my eye wandered up to an amazing two pitch 6a, (5.10b) hand crack refered to as Fisura del Tio/ Salamanca. I pulled Jess away from her conversation just long enough to run up this aesthetically appealing line. Our new friends hadn’t seen many people climb placing their own gear and they seemed amused. We descended and continued our conversation over matte (a South American drink, much like tea, that EVERYONE drinks, ALL the time). The boys of the group had been trying desperately to work a route to the left of our hand crack, but couldn’t get to the first bolt some 15’ off the ground. Being the sucker I am, I volunteered. The thin and sloping finger crack that led to the first bolt was delicate and a fall would have meant injury. My head stayed in check and I clipped the first bolt for them with minimal effort. Karma seemed to be creeping back to our corner. After several attempts it was decided that the route was too much for the rest of the group and they reluctantly handed me the reins. The route was a 6c and wandered all over the face, in and out of cracks, through overhangs, and slabs. It was a thoughtful puzzle and it brought amusement to our new friends.

That evening Jess and I again found ourselves in a compromising position as the Argentineans demanded explanations for our Presidents behavior, and why WE had not gotten rid of him. After mending bridges and delicately answering difficult questions we turned the conversation onto lighter topics. It turns out that our new comrades were almost all linked to circus work. They were acrobats, strong men, tight ropewalkers, silk dancers, and trapeze artists. A talented group of sojourners we had stumbled upon. That night we walked back to our base camp in the dark after some great “worldly conversations”. Of course getting sidetracked by a great granite wall with a few bolts, we climbed as the last light was squeezed from the sun. Making it back to camp headlights on and tummies growling.

When the sun arose the next morning it was intense and blinding. Sleeping in on this day would not be an option. We gathered our things, ate our oatmeal and once again headed up the valley. The destination this day would be the summit of Cerro de la Cruz. This giant granite dome loomed over all the other formations and immediately attracted our trained eyes. It was only an hour walk up the drainage to its lovely base. It was a magnificent wall decorated with fissures, cracks, roofs, small nubbins, and water streaks. It just so happened that our carnie friends had arrived at the base only minutes before us and were already roping up.
Jess was in the mood to climb something long and moderate to start, so we roped up for a 4 pitch 5+, (5.10-) on traditional gear named Variente diedro chico. It proved to be quite devious, protection not always being obvious, but we moved deliberately and smooth. Jess made quick work of the slabby (45 degree sections of rock with little or no visible holds, only friction against the rock provided upward progress) sections that I hate. The protection on the slabby portions being sometimes up to six meters apart. We enjoyed the climb and the view; we descended to the base and continued illuminating conversations with our friends. They had set up several top ropes and enjoyed ribbing and encouraging each other to try new things.

I had set my sights on something early in the day and it was time to get to work, a phenomenal looking roof laced with a 3 pitch (pitches are rope lengths, usually measuring up to 60 meters in length) route with an offset layback crack awaited, it was called Deapuchitos and linked up with Laja de Peterek. The first pitch was terribly difficult for me. It was only 6b, 5.10c/d, but it was literally featureless, a slab to say the least. Although I never physically fell, my mind endured many pit falls. When I reached the first belay ledge I had hesitations about continuing, but after Jess climbed it with minimal effort I felt motivated to move upward. The next pitch linked two different routes (we are not sure if this had ever been done before) and proved to be very exciting. More run out (long distances between protection) and featureless slab mixed with a few moves on a Lynn Hill sized finger crack. Again Jess moved over stone like the fog at Los Arenales. This inspired me once again. The roof/dihedral was not far, and it would be my turn to showcase my skill. We worked over the next pitch with ease and soon sat at the bottom of an intimidating section of rock. Jess at this point declared her reservations, but my perseverance served as her motivation and we continued. The opening sequence was demanding and thin, hesitation coursed through my veins as I looked up into an ominous shadow. Once I reached the crease under the roof I was greeted by a friendly and positive set of holds, although steep and intimidating it was not too difficult. Once I pulled the roof it suddenly shrank in my mind and my confidence grew. The left facing dihedral was next and was very strenuous. I grunted and pawed my way powerfully up the line. It was not easy and the frightful nature of a big fall some 150 meters from the ground sent my mind reeling. I pulled over the top and felt the world melt slowly behind me. I could see Jess looking up at me from under the roof. She didn’t look happy. She tended to the anchor and seconds later our eyes met again, this time she looked determined. She began her battle. She motored through the beginning and was only slowed by the dihedral where she fell; she shook her head, gave a brief laugh and began again. Moments later she was clipping into the anchor. Our friends below had cheered us both on, and said we were crazy. We were both glad to have stuck it out, the route proved to be one the best we have climbed the whole trip. Jess began to thread our climbing rope through the anchor to rappel when we began to hear an odd sound. Coming from somewhere above our heads we heard a sound like a jet airplane, which is what we rationalized it to be. Our friends yelling “mira” (look)!!! And the sound getting louder and less distinguishable, it appeared. A giant condor, with a wingspan that seemed 10 feet wide dove past us. It came disturbingly close to Jess and although it was mildly scary, it was thrilling. It circled some 20’ above us before it caught a rising warm air trough and left out sights. It was surreal and glorious. We rappelled to a cheering crowd having not only witnessed our climbing perseverance, but an amazing display of nature in the form of what had been the largest bird of prey we had ever seen.

Later that evening I tackled a steeper route, much harder than anything prior this trip. I couldn’t finish it, and gave the group a stab at it. After many attempts and many falls the group decided to call it quits.

That evening the group decided to meet the next morning to say good-bye. Jess and I were leaving Los Gigantes and Bolivia was calling. After a night of being woken by a cow grazing at our tent (about 3 inches from the wall) we went to say goodbye to our friends. In the night they had also decided to leave in search of another rock climbing area, so we all made the journey to the road together. Many good conversations ensued on the decent to the bus stop. Although Jess and I defiantly had reasons for being discontent with the US’s foreign policies we were over all proud to be Americans. We felt lucky in so many ways. Fortunate to have the freedoms that we have in the States, the ease at which we can travel to other countries, the strength (however much it is diminishing) of our dollar, and the means by which to be where we are, but disappointed by our over all trashed image in these countries. They said that we didn’t seem like “typical” Americans, unsure how many they have met, but an interesting perspective. We are interested to see how we are received in Bolivia, a country steeped in Anti-American sentiment. Our new brothers/sisters seemed accepting of us, and we of them, we were all taken aback by this positive experience.

As we traveled back to Cordoba Jess and I both felt warm. For once the weather had remained stable, the sun staying high in the sky. The warmth of the sun and the warmth of so many kind individuals we have met on this trip made us smile fondly. We sat back with the window of the lurching bus open allowing us to bask in the glow of the warm sun and cozy memories.

Tomorrow we leave Cordoba, Argentina for Salta, where we can change buses and enjoy the supposedly very colonial looking town before heading Uyni, Bolivia, where the largest salt flat in the world is, flamingos, and at good 5,000 meters in altitude (16,000 ft). The next and final leg of the trip is about to begin. Back to the high mountains, glaciers, and temperamental weather. We go to the mountains of Bolivia almost two months prior to the official start of the mountaineering season, so think thoughts of warm air masses!

Thanks for reading, there’s so much we want to share! Thanks as always for the support, keep checking the web site. More pictures and adventures to come!

Dispatch #5: March 3, 2006 Cajon de Los Arenales/ Cordon Portillo, Argentina

2008-06-17T21:28:00.002-07:00

Dispatch #5: March 3, 2006 Cajon de Los Arenales/ Cordon Portillo, Argentina

Jess and I just returned to Mendoza after spending a week in Los Arenales. We went in search of what was said to be “the biggest and best granite playground in all of Argentina” we were not disappointed.

The journey began as it usually does, by bus. We took the 7am bus to downtown Tunuyan some 130km from Mendoza, where we caught a smaller bus, one of 4 buses that goes for the whole week (2 on Sat and 2 on Sun) to the “town” of El Manzano Historico, or the Historic Apple tree. I say the word “town” very loosely. Manzano was no more than two buildings, three campgrounds, a historic museum, and a giant statue of Jesus on a cross, and more horses and donkeys than we had ever seen. Manzano was still some 18 km from Los Arenales, where we wanted to climb, and getting there on foot with 100lb packs seemed unreasonable. We were told to inquire in Manzano about a man named Yagua, who would take us to the mountains in his truck for a small fee. That seemed all well and good had Yagua been in town, but he was gone until mid week. We had to find another solution. While taking a little break in the shade and having one of two things from the menu, pizza or a meat sandwich, (we choose pizza of course) a nice couple from Buenos Aires stumbled upon us. They were extremely nice, and lucky for us, Jess reminded them of their daughter, and they offered us a ride as high as 2,500 meters.

In Cajon de Los Arenales there are two refugios. One refuge is actually a military outpost, controlling the regions boarder with Chile only 60 miles to the west. The other refuge sits at 3,000 meters and was built by the Alpine Club of Tupungato, not nearly as nice, but functional. Either way we were going to be sleeping in our tent, but the refugios were nice focal points for our travel, having the only flat ground for miles.

The couple was gracious enough to take us to the military outpost known as Refugio Portinari. We registered our passport numbers and with strange looks from the soldiers we were on our way. Conveniently and lucky for us again, we met a young climber on his way up to the bridge over the Arenales river only 20 minutes hike for the other refuge. Within moments we were transported via the young mans car to the base of a spectacular collection of spires, columns, cliffs, and towers. The weather was warm, and our luck was holding, as we walked to the refuge.

We established our camp not far from the refuge in an area known as Los Grandes Bloques, land of big blocks, literally. Tucked in between huge boulders, we set up our tent and set off to explore this new landscape.

I had been feeling sick in Mendoza, and while I had begun to feel better before we left, the cold had made its way into my chest and was causing a new set of problems. That evening we rested and prepared all our climbing gear for the next day.

The next morning we arose to blue skies and a slight breeze at camp. We trekked an hour up a loose talus field to gain the base of our first huge tower. We had a very hard time getting on route. Unlike some of the longer crack systems we have climbed in the U.S., Yosemite, Whitney, Seneca, Smith, etc. this line was not clear and appeared to wonder all over the place. This, in conjunction with my deteriorating health, and an ever-growing wind that would gust and knock us off balance, forced us to retreat. The rest of the day was spent hiking around the spires, eating a snack by a towering Jesus and trying to find clear and definitive lines to climb in the days to come.

That night the weather began to close in on us as it had done only a few weeks prior in Chile. This system moved fast and within a short time visibility had dropped to 20’. We went to bed with our fingers crossed that the climate would improve. When we awoke we were saddened to see nothing but white outside of the tent. We were still completely socked in and the temperature had dropped considerably. We were held up, AGAIN, and spent the rest of the morning and afternoon reading books. Around 5 p.m. the weather cleared. As usual I was feeling antsy, and found a 5.13a sport problem to through myself on. For those of you who don’t know how hard 5.13 climbing is for me, I can only say, I would be more likely to pick up a car, than climb 5.13, especially while sick. Patiently Jess caught my falls as I repeatedly hurled myself at this rock, and repeatedly I came flying off. The route was steep and felt impossible. Almost 2 hours later I had made little progress and my pride was a withered prune.

Wednesday we opened the tent, as if it was Christmas morning, the sky was crystal clear. Before the sun had crested the peaks around us we ate a quick bit of oatmeal and had dawned our rucksacks and were scrambling up the hillside towards a spire known as Aguja Campanille Alto, one of the many prized summits in this region. The approach was terrible. The sand and small rocks that we ascended on were loose and unconsolidated. It was like roller-skating up hill for 2 hours. We finally reached the base. This route that we wanted to repeat was called Sangre de Eden, or the Blood of Eden. It was rated 5.10- in difficulty and was only 200 meters (600’) of vertical rock.

The route started off beautifully. Although there were many loose blocks on the first pitch the rock quality was mostly solid and refreshing. Jess followed and made quick work of the first 100’. From the 1sst belay ledge Jess and I took a deep breath and enjoyed the view. Linticular clouds (a tell tale sign of a changing weather pattern) were forming on one of the bigger mountains to the west. We continued up. The second pitch began with an eye-opening move. I traversed right on a micro thin edge to a flaring finger crack. Jess belayed me off the anchor; I only had one small piece of gear placed in the crack….when I fell. The fall came as a shock to us both and instinctively I grabbed onto the webbing attached to the CAM, trying not to loose any more ground. The synthetic material of the webbing ripped open my fingers, and beyond scarring the shit out of Jess and causing me a great deal of discomfort, I did not loose too much ground. A fall like that was all it took to light a fire under me, and I climbed the rest of the difficult pitch with a new found since of authority. Jess followed and beyond struggling with the entrance moves, where I had fallen, she climbed with proficiency.

The next two pitches went quickly and only a few hours after leaving the ground we stood on the “cumbre” or summit. We were greeted at the top by two ominous and fateful signs. The first was a 2’ tall aluminum cross, a lightning rod for Aguja Campanille Alto if you will. The second and more disturbing sign of discontentment via the higher power was the snow that began to fall. The clouds had once again encroached on the valleys and began to hide surrounding summits and towers. We knew as long as we got down soon that a little bit of snow would be no problem, that is if we got down soon. We stayed on the summit only long enough to catch our breaths, take a few summit photos, and prepare our rappel.

We brought a secondary rope of a smaller diameter that is much lighter than our climbing rope, in order to lengthen the amount we could rappel in one go. I joined the two ropes together and we descended. We knocked out a big chunk of the route in one long rappel and we felt good about the speed of our descent. This is, however, where our luck really began to run out. In order to descend further we had to pull on the skinnier rope, allowing our climbing rope, bound together via a knot, to follow the path of the rope being pulled, and would ultimately return to us so we could continue the descent. We pulled on the skinny rope, but nothing happened. We pulled harder hoping it was only temporarily stuck, but nothing. We said a silent prayer and pulled harder, still nothing. Shit, shit, shit. This was all I could come up with. The snow was falling harder, we were still more than 140 meters from the base, and the rope by which we could retreat was stuck 60 meters (200’) above us. There is only one choice we thought. I must rope solo. To rope solo means; to free climb with an ascending device, or prussik connected to the rope allowing you to move up, but locking when put into a downward motion, theoretically protecting you from a fall. I needed to climb the 200’ of rock, gain the summit again, quickly free the rope, and descend back to Jess at the belay ledge.

I began soloing up the last pitch and a half we had climbed only a few minutes prior. I needed to move fast and with no mistakes, a fall here would be very bad. Poor Jess could do nothing but wait. She wrapped herself in an emergency blanket and endured the snow, while I rushed towards the top. I summited the great tower again, but this time there was no celebration at the top. I worked frantically to free the ropes whose knot had caught on a small crystal and refused to budge. Once it was freed I reset the rappel and hurried from the summit. When I left the top the snow was blinding and Jess looked like a little baked potato wrapped in foil and sitting on a plate from 200’ above. My descent was quick, like repelling off the TCU stadium in college, and my belay device was hot. When I returned to the belay ledge with Jess we held our breath and began pulling the tag line (the skinny rope) and it came cascading down from the sky swirling and tumbling in the wind and snow. We reset the rappel and this time Jess descended first. She coiled the rope, tossed it over the edge of the rock, and then vanished right after it.

It was my turn to sit and wait it out on the belay ledge, while it became saturated from the precipitation. My patience for the situation was running very thin and after a few minutes of not hearing anything from Jess I began to think we were in “IT” deep. I peered over the edge and asked in an annoyed manner, “what is taking so long?” All I heard was a scream. Jess let out a huge yell, and in the fog and snow sounded like banshees moving in on fresh meat from down below. I leaned over the edge once again and said, in the most loving way possible in this type of situation, “What the fuck is going on?”

“The rope is stuck” I heard rise like a balloon from Jess’ position below. “What the hell do you mean the rope is stuck?” I asked. Jess replied, “I can’t free (grunt) it, it is (grunt) stuck BAD!” With much frustration and borderline anger I shouted, “find a place to anchor yourself in, unweight the rope, and I will rappel down and see what I can do!!” Within moments I descended into a living nightmare. Jess looked like a crumpled piece of paper. Her spirits had been broken. The emotion she had been fighting so hard to keep under control in this stressful time were boiling over and it could no longer be contained. All her anger, fear, and distress lay on top of her like an iron blanket. She sat on a small ledge and wept. When I saw what she was looking at (the rope, stuck in a two inch crack, wedged on top of itself and unmovable) I almost began to follow suit and cry. However, my countenance quickly turned from sad and nervous to cold and emotionless. If this rope would not be freed, it would have to be cut. The point at which the cord would have to be severed would give us only small increments of rope to manage, making our descent very slow and very dangerous. “FUCK” I yelled, “THIS SUCKS!!” and with that I began to work the constriction. Jess interjected feverishly with comments of a macabre nature. “SHUT UP!” I exploded back. For 10 minutes I worked the Rubik Cube of a knot, my fingers cold from the wind and water. Finally with one last doubtful tug, it came free. With no more time to waste, Jess clipped into my harness and together we descended the remaining 20’ to the final rappel station.

At this point the weather was waining, and felt like a house of cards waiting to crash down and show us its real power. Jess and I reached the belay ledge and pulled on the rope. To our amazement, with in one clean jerk the tag line moved freely. I pulled and pulled, and the knot that joined the two ropes crept towards us slowly. Then the tail end of the climbing rope freed the anchor above and then came racing down towards us. And then it stopped. “Only caught on a little ledge, no worries”, I thought! So I began to pull confidently. Nothing. I had almost all of the rope sitting at my feet only 40 meters of our climbing rope still remained high in the sky. I pulled again…. and again…nothing. The rope was seriously stuck, again. This time because the rope was stuck in a crack and not actually through an anchor, the line was not fixed, therefore to rope solo up it would be an act of suicide. If I had chosen to chance its degree of “stuckness” and rope soloed up, entrusting that if I fell it would hold my weight, and the rope became free, I would be dead! I didn’t want to go down this road. You can imagine the words that came out of my mouth!!!

After ranting and raving in the new fallen snow, Jess rocking quietly, as if she had been mentally saying these things all along, tenderly leaned over and said, “can we make it with only one rope?” I untied the knot that bound the two ropes together, and with our skinny little tag line we made two rapid rappels down the base. We were home free. We did have to descend the loose talus in a white out, but at this point the experience would not have been complete any other way. We turned our backs on our climbing rope, hanging like a tattered flag some 100’ off the ground. We reached our base camp in the dark, fixed dinner and went to bed.
The next morning we went into the refugio to see if anyone would be climbing in the same region we had the day before. If so we wanted to ask if they would help retrieve our rope. This was a hard favor for us to ask, neither of us like others to clean up our messes. We only had our tag line, so reclimbing the route and risking a fall on a thin little rope seemed down right unsafe. One group had agreed to retrieve our rope on their descent of the same route. That evening they returned, rope in hand. We were relieved and thankful.

The next morning, Thursday, we had decided to climb further down in the canyon, but weather kept us at bay all day. Rain and sleet kept us tent bound from 3 am to almost 8pm. That night it rained hard and kept its pace through the next morning. We were forced to take up cooking in the refugio were we met two Argentineans who were in the same boat. These guys turned out to be RAD and we all became quick friends. We collectively decided that if the weather had not cleared by 6 pm that evening, that it probably wasn’t going to, and we would all leave for Mendoza in their little car called “the rocket”, that was parked only ½ a mile down the canyon.

We all waited eagerly to see what the weather would do in the hours that followed. The weather continued to get worse and worse. The temperature dropped rapidly, the snow and fog made a permanent home in the valley and at 6 pm we walked to “the rocket”.
Two and a half hours later we were in Mendoza eating tacos and laughing as if the last week had only been a dream.

Dispatch #4 2/24/2006 Mendoza, Argentina

2008-06-17T21:28:00.001-07:00

Dispatch #4 2/24/2006 Mendoza, Argentina

Well folks, we are now in Argentina to begin the next leg of our trip. We rolled into Mendoza, Argentina’s central bus terminal around 11p.m the night of 2/22. We were instantly bombarded by locals thinking, judging by our bags, that we were headed to Aconcagua. More importantly than being here to climb Aconcagua, we represented MONEY, and the locals could smell it in the air, the moment we stepped off the bus. Although “dirt bag” climbers in the states, here we represented the status quoe here to “conquer” the tallest peak in the Americas.

After a few stops at various hotels/hostels where they were all full we found ourself back by the bus terminal where there was a hole in the wall hotel. This accommodation was one of the filthiest places we have ever stayed in. The fan circling over the bed made a thumping sound, like a helicopter about to land. It reminded me of “Apocolipse Now”. We arose the next morning and went in search of better accomadations, a more comfortable, friendly place, in a safer part of town where we could rearrange our gear and prepare for the hills.

Jess found a nice place called Hotel Petit. A quaint room we could call home for a few days. As we walked the tree lined streets of Mendoza, known for not only being the starting point for Aconcagua, but also for its fabulous wines, and home of an important national holiday coming up next week, I began to feel ill. Over the next day as we researched conditions on Aconcagua, the mountain, along with myself were worsening by the minute.

By the end of our second day in Mendoza I was feeling really under the weather, and as we looked for information on the current climbing conditions, we also looked for alternative climbing locations. Many people had reported a deteriorating weather pattern in the mountains. So, we decided for the time being, to explore climbing in another region, with towering granite walls reaching 500 meters high, only 200km southwest of Mendoza. The area is called Cajon Arenales, it houses what is reported to be some of the finest granite in all of Argentina. Many of the routes are multipitch traditionl routes, with a concentration of sport climbing up to 8b or 5.14.

Today I am feeling much better, Jess has been pumping me full of “Ibuprofeno Pseudoefedrina” and liquids, both of us feeling anxious to return to the mountains. Tomorrow we are taking a bus to Tunuyan and then another to El Manzano Historico, were we must talk to a man named Yugua, who has a truck and can take us to the base of Arenales and back for 80 pesos or $25 US. We are going to be climbing in this region for a week, upon our return we will make a final decision on Aconcagua. If we choose not to climb it due to weather we will most likely move north in search of a more stable climate. The fall in the Southern Andes has come quicker than most, including ourselves, had anticipated. Wish us luck, we are off to Arenales for some rock climbing on quality granite. Be in touch soon.

Dispatch #3 2/19/2006 Cajon del Maipo, Chile

2008-06-17T21:26:00.000-07:00

Dispatch #3 2/19/2006 Cajon del Maipo, Chile

With a mix of emotion, we have just returned from climbing in a region known as Cajon del Maipo or (the canyon of the river Maipo). The last little community nestled at the end of the road between the continuously growing mountains is Banos Morales. From here access is granted to a region of the Andes that few Chileans, even fewer foreigners, ever see.

To get to Cajon del Maipo seemed simple enough and after one taxi, two subway transfers, two micro bus transfers, hitchhiking in the back of a pickup truck with a couple and there 5 children toting one back pack, all the while transferring our 100 some pound Osprey duffels, finally arriving in Banos Morales and finding a mule to transport our bags while we rode horses, into the El Morado basin. The region was nothing short of amazing. Our camp sat at the base of the Laguna de Morado and Colgante Morado, which is a lagoon created by a massive hanging glacier. This particular spot is a popular place for tourists to visit, however, few stay the night even less go any higher. When we arrived the weather was stable, the air was warm, the sun was bright, and the entire world seemed aglow.

We spent the afternoon getting organized and prepping to move up the glacier to a higher camp. Our base camp sat at 3,000 meters, and after hiking a bit up the valley we decided it was at least 4 of moderate terrain to the base of the mountains we had intended to climb. We ate heartily that night and finished preparing to head up the glacier the next day.

In the morning the sun was blazing hot. We dawned our packs and began our march. My pack was enormously heavy (carrying one of those duffle/backpacks, not meant for long hauls) and I felt like I was back at NOLS. Jess’ pack wasn’t much better, (carrying one of Chris’ larger packs that was too big and didn’t sit on her hips). We labored up the glacial slope for what seemed like a lifetime. The sun was so hot beating off the glacier that we both could literally feel the lives being sucked from us like a bright yellow vampire in the sky.

The glacial valley was amazingly beautiful and teased us more and more with spectacular views of a fairytale landscape. Rock rose up instantly from the valley floor where it met some of the most beautiful and threatening hanging glaciers we have ever encountered. The evidence of rock and icefall littered the glacier below, all of which was very disconcerting. The mountain that we were intent on visiting is a 5,200-meter peak known as Mason Alto. The South East face we were attempting was partially hidden by an enormous icefall.

Once we reached our high camp just over 4,000 meters, we disposed of our heavy luggage and sought some shade tucked beneath a boulder. We decided that in the evening we would “just go for it”. We thought the base of the route was only an hour more hike, so we set up our bivy sacks, small Gore-Tex body bags, that are meant for survival not comfort, ate soup, boiled water furiously on our MSR stove, set our watch alarms for 2 a.m. and went to sleep.

Our camp sat well below and out of reach of one of the enormous hanging glaciers I spoke of earlier. It was propped precariously above the valley floor almost 1,000 meters up and appeared to defy all laws of gravity, until about 9 p.m. We had our first real “come to Jesus meeting” as my aunt Jo would say. This hanging glacier began to calve massive amounts of ice off its heavy latent shoulders. Throughout the early evening we were awakened regularly by loud cracks, almost like shotgun blasts. Our heads would peek out of our cocoons rapidly to see tons of rock and ice cascade down the rock face and crash violently into the glacier below. We were, on more than one occasion, dusted with a fine mist of rock and ice particulates from almost a ½ a mile away. This was all very stressful and as the time approached to leave our camp and begin ascending the mountain we had second thoughts about the current conditions. After almost an hour of deliberation (at 2am) we decided to hold off a day and collect more information. That morning (Valentines Day) first light we walked again in the draining heat through the maze of crevasses and debris littering the valley to the base of Mason Alto. It was a two+ hour hikes up the 4,500-meter base. We were instantly relieved we had not gone the night before when we looking at the summit and saw only an unrelenting black cloud, and it was only late morning. We were still motivated and we intended to ascend this route perhaps the next morning, conditions and weather dependent. We returned to camp as clouds consumed the summits of all the surrounding peaks. In awe of the instant cooling the clouds brought. We cooked beans and contemplated our lengthy ascent.

This is where the shit really hit the fan! At first it started out as “gropple” as mix of sleet and rain, then it turned to snow, and then it just flat out rained. The rain seemed like deep sobbing tears from the heavens. This continued for most of the day. We took shelter in our bivy sacks and prayed that they were truly waterproof, as they were about to be fully tested. Around 6 p.m. the rain had lightened up enough that we were able to crawl out and make super. Or reheat the leftover beans and scarf some peanut butter. After an hour it began again. This time the clouds had lowered their forceful heads and consumed the valley floor as well. Lightening and thunder harmoniously dominated the canyon with an efficient and oppressive beauty. We were completely socked in. The visibility was zero and from the six-inch gap in the zipper of my bivy sack I could only see a ghostly white mist. The storm became ravenous and it left Jess and I cringing in our bags. “ I haven’t been this scared in a while”, I thought to myself. Climbing Mason Alto became less of a concern and getting off the glacier and back to our roomy MSR Twin Peaks shelter became the priority. Between the glacial calving and the thunder it was hard to tell where one stopped and the other began. We spent a romantic Valentine’s evening in our separate bivy sacks reading separate books, and yelling over the rain, thunder, and glacier to one another to see what the other was doing (as if it would be something exciting).

Finally in the morning, the storm took an overdue break. Long enough for Jess and I to rapidly gather our soaked and frozen gear and make a run for it down the glacier. Ten minutes into our retreat we heard a crack reverberate through the canyon and as we looked back into the low-lying clouds we saw the largest rock fall we had collectively ever seen. Within seconds the rock fall engulfed the valley floor and fine dust particles unleashed during the slide engulfed what was our campsite. As the dust settled, the clouds took its place and once again we were on the edge of a white out. We tucked our proverbial tails between our legs and headed down valley.

When we reached our base camp it had rained there too. It began again, and was intermittent, so we spent the rest of the day thawing and trying desperately to dry our down sleeping bags. Then from a ridge high above we heard a distant but friendly “HOLA!” We were so rattled for being stuck in our bivy sacks in an unrelenting storm that we were tempted to cash in our chips and get the heck out of Dodge. Two hours from the Laguna there was a road, and if our new friends had a car there was potential that we could hitch a ride rather than waiting another 5 days in horrible weather for our mules to arrive. I stayed and fiddled with the gear while Jess and her superior Spanish went to talk to our new mates. She came back an hour later elated with the news that although they had no car, they knew the area well, and were leaving the next morning and could tell our muleteer that we were ready to be picked up.

The two strangers turned out to be a quality couple from Santiago. One was a 19-year-old girl who spoke perfect English and her lover a 45-year-old man, who was a pioneering Alpinist of the area as well as a recognized Chilean poet. Jess had arranged to meet up with them in the evening to chat over tea. In the mean time we fled another onslaught of rain that stood fast until the evening. Around 6p.m. we cooked dinner and left camp to seek out the couple. These Chileans turned out to be awesome and I quickly bonded with this old poet of the mountains. We all talked for hours while the rain was held at bay by our conversations. The topics revolved around English, Spanish, Americans, Chileans, youth, age, life, death, climbing, and a life in the mountains.

He proudly showed us his antique wooden ice axe, hand crafted by his uncle. Its welded steel head had a cold stamped logo that simply read CHILE. He then pulled out a small ditty bag, smaller than most women’s handbags. It contained all his essential climbing equipment, including an ancient and weathered webbing chest harness, an additional piece of ½ inch tubular webbing, a prussik cord and two carabiners. Show and tell continued with the display of OUR gear. We opened our huge Transporter duffle and his eyes lit up like a “kid in a candy store”. He marveled at our complex gear, shiny and new, almost all of which appeared foreign to him. He had never seen a CAM, a LOADLIMITER, and only had working knowledge of ICE SCREWS. He laughed when he saw our curved ice axes, he commented on them saying that “they seemed functional”, and giggled at his comment as though he had thought of the design himself, just then.

I felt embarrassed of all our gear. And I remarked that, “all of this shit amounted to nothing if you don’t have a good head on your shoulders.” I could tell he liked this comment and that he was glad to see that I actually believed what I said. We shared climbing stories as the night crept in.

I could see in his weathered face that read like a topographical map he was envious of our youth and maybe of all our STUFF, but that look quickly changed when he began to reflect on his life in the mountains in all its simplicity. Then I felt my expression change from proud and ambitious to jealous of his simple tools and his unwavering commitment to a life in the mountains. We told him of American philosophies on climbing and alpinism, some that we agreed with and some we don’t, and of our pressures to climb higher, faster, and harder, as if we expected him to relate. He said, “Cemeteries are full of heroes”. Simply put and well taken, we thought.

He rattled on through the night about stories of youth and old friends loosing their lives in these mountains, stories of the epic weather, and tales of Nazi Germans who put little miniatures statues of Hitler at the tops of many mountains they first climbed here. He also told us the current conditions of all the mountains that we wanted to climb. He thought all would be foolish to climb at the current time of year, save one, Punta Italia. Its west face has a pure rock route, yet to be climbed. We felt rejuvenated by this statement, and as soon as we said our fond goodbyes, we set our sites on this new goal.

We had told the couple of our desire to leave early, and they had promised to tell our muleteer and guaranteed his arrival to pick us up in two days time. We were glad that we would soon be leaving, as the weather had not yet lightened, but with the barometer on the rise and a new goal in our hearts we felt full of hope. The next morning we awoke to Lewis (the old man) at our tent telling us to come out, that the mountains were ready for, Chris and Jessica. That afternoon we gathered our things, rested, and psyched ourselves up for the next 24 hours. The day was flawless and the sky seemed at peace. That night we arose to a nearly full moon and a cloudless sky, at 12 a.m. we set off for one solid push, from our base camp at under 3,000 meters, to the summit of Punta Italia 5,200 meters and back in 24 hours. Sounds good, right?

Jess and I started moving light and fast, crossing a roaring river, climbing snow, ice, and rock through the night. Dave Wuchner, my college roommate’s, music blaring on my IPod and Jess bobbing hear head to the mix she had made with her good friend Brandon Eyre, (although only 3, has excellent taste in music!) We cruised up the snow pack, the night stayed clear, and the climbing was good. Jess’ spirits began to deteriorate with the onset of a headache and stomach problems. We had to climb a knife edged rock ridge to gain the glacial basin where Punta Italia’s West Face rose. After an hour on the ridge, facing serious repercussions with one false step, Jess had had enough. What we thought would take 3 hours to get to have already taken 4.5. I think between the last week’s events and the current stresses, we decided it would be unwise to push ourselves any further on an unknown face. As we heard rock fall begin to echo above us, we bailed, once again. In the comfort of the newly rising sun we descended back to base camp after our 7 hour rendezvous. We slept most of the day. It had been a sunny day and the night came quickly. The night was as cold and sharp as an ice axe pick.

The next morning we prepared for our muleteer, as he was arriving at 10am. A Californian and Chilean were ascending with hopes to climb one of the glorious mountains we had hoped to stand on, we chatted about climbing, laughed and exchanged beta. The Californian telling us of two other trips he made to this area with similar weather conditions and getting shut down. Making us feel like it wasn’t just our bad luck in Chile, we wished them luck and felt like maybe with the good weather we should stay, in the same breath the mule and his caretaker arrived, only 3 hours late, in good old’ fashion Latin American time. We packed our large bags on the back of this hauling machine and spent the afternoon hiking back towards civilization. As we walked down the valley, mule in tow, we saw the clouds creep in once again. By the time we reached the town of Banos Morales, where we began the trip, the mountains were once again behind the curtains of a deep black veil. We breathed a sigh of relief, glad with our decision, disappointed in our climbing, but happy to be out of the storms.

In all the instability of the last week one thing became clear to us in Cajon del Maipo. Life lessons, as well as climbing lessons aren’t always learned on the route, be it rock, ice, or snow. Sometimes these lessons in humility are learned in schlepping 100lb packs up a glacial slope, or stuck in an unforgiving storm not being able to move up or down to safety, or taught to us by an old brother of the mountains simple and content. These lessons are learned in failure, struggle, and triumph.

We are still learning. We are still failing, struggling, and we hope that we will triumph again, SOON!

As always thanks for reading. Sorry this one was so long. There was a lot we wanted to share. We wish all of you suerte (luck) as we say often to friends that we part with. We are in Santiago for a few days while we regroup and prepare for the next leg of the trip. Please keep checking out the web site and as always feel free to post comments, questions, and feedback. Thank you for your continued support.