Conclusions, Part 2

Some people have requested that I put up a Top Ten List of my favorite places along the way. Here they are (in order from South to North):

-Humberstone, Iquique, Chile (because it was awesome to walk around this mining ghost town and imagine what it was like during its glory days)

-Codpa, Chile (because I had such an awesome time hanging out with my friend Tibor, eating grapefruits still warm off the vine and stargazing at night)

-Coroico, Bolivia (because I loved the place I stayed, and I loved the tropical feel to it, and I was reading a really good book at the time)

-Isla del Sol, on Lake Titicaca, Bolivia (because of the sunset over the lake the night before in Copacabana, drinking coca tea on the hotel balcony, and because it was awesome to imagine the Inca kings on retreat there)

-Guayaquil, Ecuador (because I had such a good time with Carlos in this cosmopolitan, orderly port city)

-Quito, Ecuador (because it was easily accessible, and because of the awesome shawarma and the gilded Jesuit church)

-San Agustín, Colombia (because of the sugar cane juice with lemon, and the tour of the sculptures, and the heaping bandejas of Colombian food)

-Playa Blanca, Islas del Rosario, Colombia (because of the snorkeling, and the beautiful beach...and because next year they're going to build some homogenized resort there and I got to see it before they do that)

-Monteverde, Costa Rica (because we saw quetzals there, and howler monkeys and an agouti...and also because of the Tarzan swing)

-Tulum, Mexico (because we had a beautiful white beach practically all to ourselves)

-Chichén Itzá (and the cenote azul), Mexico (because we got to Chichén Itzá before the crowds did)

-Mexico City, Mexico (because it sent me into sensory overload)

Sorry, that's 12. I couldn't narrow it down. But that's the cool thing about having your own blog: you can make up the rules as you go along.

Conclusions, Part 1

It's good to be home. You can get the best of both worlds (north and south) right here.

The fact is, I can gain access to all the cultural goods of Latin America, even when I'm in the US, so I'm never too far from Chile. Or at least, from Spanish. I have the internet. I can watch Univision, and Telemundo. "José Luis Sin Censura" (Google it, you won't be disappointed) is on every day at 6:00. "La Esclava Isaura" comes on every night at 9.

I have learned the following things from my little trip.

1) If you are familiar enough with the culture of one Latin American country, you can manage in all of them. Even if the culture you're most familiar with (Chile) is the most un-Latin American country of the bunch.

2) Travelling is a good time to catch up on your reading. I read some really good books along the way, and I would recommend these ones in particular:
-Los detectives salvajes, by Roberto Bolaño (translated into English in the US as The Savage Detectives)
-Noticia de un secuestro, by Gabriel García Márquez (Translated into English as News of a Kidnapping)
-Assassination on Embassy Row, by John Dinges and Saul Landau
-What is the What, by Dave Eggers
-Calibre 39 (an anthology of Colombian authors under 39)

3) I love cities. The grittier the better.

4) Latin America will only leave poverty behind if other countries do what Chile has done, economically speaking. I saw no other viable alternatives.

5) You can't travel from Chile to California in just three months on a small budget, unless you plan really well. You need to either have money, or more time (or both), to do it right.

6) There are very few cheap "travellers' paradises" in Latin America anymore. The word is out on most of the nice places, and locals have jacked up the prices accordingly (as well they should). There are still lots of unexplored places, but I didn't have the time to take the risk to see if there were cool things off the beaten track (in most places). Next time.

7) I have a lot of faith in the people of Latin America. Its greatest resource, far more valuable than all its minerals put together, are its human resources: clever, resourceful, warm, friendly people--extremely highly trained, in some cases. I have faith that the people of Latin America will find solutions to their problems, and that these solutions will have a human face.

The Border/La Frontera

(En español, abajo)

I flew to Tijuana, and then crossed over the border into San Diego. From there, I called my brother David, who lives in downtown SD. No sooner had I sat down to a "Meat Lovers' Breakfast Burrito" (god bless America) at a Jack in the Box just over the border, when a familiar-looking minivan pulled up outside. My parents and my brothers picked me up, and we had a nice day in San Diego before driving back to Camarillo.

My parents had been following my progress on a bulletin board in the breakfast nook. I hope I inspired them to see some of the places along the way. When are you going to Colombia, Mom?

Así que volé a Tijuana, y crucé la frontera a San Diego. De ahí llamé a mi hermano David, que vive en el centro de San Diego. Mientras lo esperaba, fui a un Jack in the Box (una cadena de comida chatarra) y pedí un burrito de desayuno (en gringolandia los burritos se comen a cualquier hora). Lo hice en español, a todo esto, porque la señora en la caja no entendía inglés. En fin. Una vez sentado y comiendo, entró una señora, gringa, apoyada por lo que parecía su marido. Tenía la cara hinchada, muy grotesca, y llevaba bata y pantuflas. Entraron al restaurante y fueron derechito al baño. Hubo una pausa en la conversa, y todos los parroquianos nos mirábamos. Un mexicano sentado delante mío de repente dijo: "¡Una fantasma!" Y todos nos reímos a carcajadas. Supongo que muchos gringos cruzan a México a hacerse su cirujía plástica porque ahí ahorran algo de platita.

Bueno, después de un ratito llegó una minivan que me era familiar. Mi familia entera salió y nos abrazamos en frente del Jack in the Box. Tuvimos una tarde agradable en San Diego, antes de emprender rumbo a Camarillo, nuestro pueblito en los suburbios del mero sueño americano.

Resultó que mis viejos habían estado siguiendo mi viaje en su sala de estar (véase foto del mapa, arriba). Así que estoy en casa, descansando. Preparándome pa' la próxima aventura.

DF, DFondo

Un gran "órale" a mis cuates en los países hispanoparlantes. Les cuento que estoy impresionado con México, pues todo este tiempo lo tenía al lado y nunca tomé el tiempo para conocerlo. Es una lástima porque es una cultura tan, tan rica, muy latina y a la vez muy cercana a la mía. Aquí estacionar es "parquear," y arrendar es "rentar." Hay más velocidad y más comida rápida, más tallarines ramen y más de lo cosmopolita. Más gente. México realmente está en el mundo, con una cultura globalizada, con hechos que van mucho más allá del discurso globalista (pero más que nada, comercialista) de Chile. Sí hay más pobreza que en Chile, pero menos de lo que hay en la mayoría de los países que he visitado. Y está la esperanza, se siente en el ambiente, de que todo se va mejorando.

Con la excepción de Oaxaca (hay que agregarlo), donde la atmósfera era más que nada una de conflicto social. Justo el día que nos fuimos de Oaxaca, estallaron desmanes relacionados con las demandas de los profesores de mejores sueldos. O por lo menos, así comenzó la cosa; ahora abarca las demandas históricas de los pobres en una región desigual, latifundista y aún gobernada por el PRI.

Bueno, como puse en mi último posteo en inglés, DF me instó a un estado de delirio. Ya había estado viajando tanto tiempo, pasando por tantas cosas (mi abuelita se murió, me dio una infección de estafilococco, de la que recuperé), tanta logística (que adónde va este bus, que cuándo partimos para Chichén Itzá, que si el taxista me está estafando, que hay que empacar la mochila por enésima vez, que este hotelucho no sirve, que ese camino en bus será de 22 horas aunque cubre una distancia de como 200 km...), tanta cerveza...

Así es que llegué a DF con las defensas un poco en baja, cuando realmente tienes que estar en forma para enfrentarlo. Es una ciudad maravillosa: el Museo de Antropología tiene unos artefactos impresionantes, el sol azteca para empezar. DF estaba celebrando el centenario del nacimiento de Frida Kahlo con una exhibición en el Palacio de Bellas Artes y otra en la Casa Azul, que es donde vivió ella (y donde vivió León Trotsky hasta que tuvo un affaire con Frida, se enojó su mujer y tuvieron que mandarse a cambiar a una casa cercana, que es donde un asesino catalán lo mató con una piolet a la cabeza, pero esto es otro tema...). Disfruté mucho del Templo Mayor, un gran templo azteca sólo parcialmente excavado al lado de la catedral, en el Zócalo de la ciudad.

DF, o por lo menos las partes turísticas, tiene una estética única. Tiene elementos de lo futurista kitsch (lo que pensaban que iba a ser el futuro en los años 60, onda Tomorrowlandia), lo azteca guerrillero de las ruinas, lo colonial de la llegada de los españoles y lo decimonónico afrancesado del Porfiriato. Es una mezcla inolvidable, y por más dispares que parezcan los elementos que la componen, es una mezcla que funciona. Esto es el encanto de México, para mí: el hallazgo de la coherencia en una variedad muy rara e improbable de elementos.

Y claro, no me puedo olvidar de los pirámides de Teotihuacán. A sólo una hora de DF, pero en otro mundo.

O sea: desorientación y delirio. DF me agotó. Y llegué a la conclusión de que no me quedaba otro remedio que irme para la casa, ahora ya. Y me fui.

Frida Fever

I think Mexico City induced a sort of delirium in me. It's a fairly disorienting city in the best of scenarios, but when you've been traveling for close to three months, you're a little nervous about grad school (coming up as soon as you cross that border), and you've been through the death of your grandma and a staph infection in the process, the existing chaos of DF takes on kaleidoscopic and phantasmagorical qualities. The clowns doing entertainment on the Metro for spare change become grostesque. The smog gets into your eyes, and your subconscious.

One Mexico City personage who experienced the delirium of this city and externalized it even as she suffered it was Frida Kahlo. Some of you may have seen the recent Salma Hayek movie? Well, this year is the centennial of her birth, and Mexico City is celebrating that by capitalizing on the mounting international attention that Frida received both late in life and since her death, even when she was lesser known in Mexico than her husband, the muralist Diego Rivera. The result was a special exhibition of her art at her house in the southern Mexico City district of Coyoacán, and a huge solo show at the capital's Palacio de Bellas Artes. So me, my Stanford friend Nick and his girlfriend Desha had a Frida day once they arrived. We went to the Fine Arts Palace, and then to Frida's house (the Casa Azul, where she grew up and which she later lent to Leon Trotsky when he was in exile in DF), and then to the house that Diego and Frida shared, nearby in San Ángel.

Frida suffered in life. She was run over by a streetcar, which left her incapacitated, on and off, throughout her life. It also probably led to her early death, in 1954. She was in a lot of pain, and many of her paintings reflect on the delirium that pain and suffering can cause. The tricks they can play on our minds. Frida painted many self-portraits that showed her suffering in very novel ways. Having spent a lot of time in the US, she also reflected on popular culture and fame. Many images come to my mind now, two in particular. One: a painting of two Fridas next to each other, bound together by veins, one of which is being cut with scissors by one Frida, causing it to bleed on her white dress. Two: a painting of Dorothy Hale, a movie star who jumped to her death off the Empire State Building. Frida gave the painting to the star's mother.

Diego Rivera's murals are another iconic example of Mexico City's rich visual arts scene. Using a number of themes, which were often Marxist, Rivera painted huge scenes taking in a variety of themes, including man's and science's triumphs over nature, war and peace, fascism, death, work and leisure. Fascinating and overwhelming. Diego and Frida's relationship was one for the books. Though tempestuous, he was the love of her life, and she his.

In Mexico City, I found that I couldn't just take things in without getting intensely involved in them. This is probably because the city's monuments and sights are so wonderfully imperfect, or layered, or conflicted, and therefore quite accessible. You don't see the slickness of the Louvre, or the manicured perfection of Versailles. But this doesn't make DF's sights any less important. Its cathedral is just as impressive as any European one, but it's sinking into the ground. It's actually a bit crooked (Mexico City used to be a lake, after all). Its National Anthropology Museum has amazing archaeological artifacts, dramatically displayed. But you can't look at these Aztec runes without thinking balefully about how Cortés came in and basically wiped this amazing civilization off the map of living cultures, denying its achievements and trying to replace it with one that was far inferior. These layers of presentation were spell-binding for me.

It was just too much. I came to the conclusion that I just needed to go home. I had travelled long enough. I'll come back to DF when I'm a little less worn-down, because it needs my undivided attention.

DFinitely not for the faint of heart

I have reached one of the most highly-anticipated parts of my trip (by me): Mexico City. I think this entry is going to have to be about expectations vs. reality. Let me start off by saying that I have even dreamed of going to Mexico City. Literally. Several times. And I was super stoked to get here.

So I'd love to say that it has totally lived up to them, but the jury's still out, even after a day and a half (an eternity in this fly-by-night, speeding through Latin America trip). Right now I'm just sort of on sensory overload. This city is noisy, and smelly, and literally I have a headache from straining to see everything there is to see. It's just so big! It's also been raining since Anne and I got here yesterday, so that has definitely colored my perception of things as well. In addition to weaving and ducking among all the crowds (crowds...everywhere...), I've also had to weave to avoid all the puddles and the busses that spray you on the sidewalk.

This is a very vibrant city, though, and in its glory periods it has built some impressive monuments to itself, and to the country as a whole. There is a huge Frida Kahlo exhibition on, as it's the 100 year anniversary of her birth this year, and the city is constantly putting on a number of different cultural activities. There's definitely a lot to love. It's even a bit like Santiago, in its own sprawled-out, smoggy little way.

It has a whole French vibe as well, particularly in the centro histórico. Wide boulevards, wrought iron. The Metro is also very much like the one in Paris; it even smells the same. It's a lot more crowded though. There's a section of every platform where only women and children can stand to wait for trains, the idea being that they can then have a whole car to themselves (though no one seems to respect this).

But there is a lot of poverty. There are massive slums on its outskirts, that stretch out literally to the horizon. The whole city is sinking, as well, and I'm pretty sure that one tower of the cathedral is higher than the other. And everyone's in everyone else's grill, all the time.

I'm trying to like it.

Tulum or not Tulum

A quick post today. First, greetings to my family in Berkeley, who were all together today for Grammy's funeral, which I unfortunately had to miss. You guys were all over my thoughts today. I was remembering that the last conversation I had with Grammy was about her honeymoon, which was in Mexico. I guess she and granddaddy ran into a boy along the way whom they knew from Texas and he showed them around for a while. So, cosmic coincidences in space and time today, as I write from Mexico.

The Yucatán Peninsula is way different from the typical border towns in Mexico I'd been to before-- this is the Caribbean! The sand is white, the tourists are from all over the world, and the ocean is turquoise and warm. You don't even need a snorkle to see the fish swimming around you in the clear water. We have stayed away from the touristy areas nearby (ahem, Cancun, ahem) and have stuck to smaller places, like Tulum, which is about a 2 hour bus ride south of Cancun.

A quick note about Mexico, by the way. While it has kind of a bad rap in the US, let me just say that in comparison with just about every other Latin American country I've been to, this is about the most orderly, efficient, and clean one of the lot. It's so interesting how relative everything is: some Americans may consider Mexico a bit tawdry from their perspective, but this is a very wealthy, prosperous place in comparison to its neighbors to the south.

Tulum's attractiveness lies in the fact that not only do you have a white sand beach and turquoise waters, you also have amazingly photogenic ruins perched just above it all. Here is a picture of my college friend and travelling buddy Anne in Tulum.

We also went to Chichén Itzá, recently voted one of the new 7 wonders of the world. It did not disappoint. It's really well-preserved, and all the stones are intricately carved with a ton of different friezes. So the structures are super dramatic from afar, but then you look closer and you can see all the details, and the amazing work that went in to building them.

Then we cooled off with a dip in the 60 m deep cenote, which is a natural well in a limestone cave (there are a bunch of them nearby). Many were used for Mayan rituals, and some of them have been dredged recently, and they've come up with a ton of skeletons (they threw people into them to ask the gods for rain) and gold and precious stones. And you can swim in them!

People! Mexico is like paradise, and it's a 4 hour plane ride away from most of you! You cannot pass this place up!

Guate and Guatemala (C.A.)

First, an apology for taking so long to write. I haven't been in the best mood of late, for several reasons, and I'd rather say nothing at all if I'm in too bad of a mood to say anything nice. If I'm down, I can't do that happy-go-lucky traveler schtick you have grown to know and love. But I'm on a bit of an upswing, so I will catch you up on my adventures.

Wow, I'm looking at my pictures here, and they look really good! Well, you're going to enjoy this, then.

After Antigua, of which I posted pictures in my previous entry, we continued on to the town of Panajachel, which is on the shores of Lake Atitlán, a volcanic crater in the Guatemalan highlands. It is surrounded by three volcanoes, and countless little towns. We took a boat tour of three of them: Santiago de Atitlán, San Antonio and San Pedro. Our visit to Santiago, the most traditional of the three, was centered around our pilgrimage to MAXIMON, which is this pseudo-Catholic icon that the town "worships." I'm actually not sure at this point where the worship ends and the tourist trapping begins when it comes to Maximón, but it was still cool. We had to pay 10 Quetzals to see Him, and we went into a room where this statue was standing on an altar. The statue had a cigar in its mouth and it was wearing three ties (real silk, our guide informed us, from Japan and Italy). We tried to be as serious about it as we could, so we paid our respects and got back on the boat, basically.

Another cool aspect of Santiago was its main church, because of its memorial to an American priest, Fr. Stanley Rohter, who was murdered there in 1981 because he took sides in the bloody conflict that gripped Guatemala for so long.

After Panajachel (aka "Gringotenango", by the way, because of all the foreigners living there) we were able to go to a big market day in the famous town of Chichicastenango. This was amazing. I will let the pictures speak for Chichi, because it actually looks better in the pictures than it does in real life. In real life it's huge and disorienting, but in the pictures it's colorful and exciting.

Then it was time to go to Guate (the capital) to say goodbye to Joris, my Belgian friend. I have to say that of all the Latin American capital cities I have visited, this was the one where I felt most unsafe. Once out of the uppity area of town (the "Zona Viva," "Live" or "Alive" zone), which was heavily guarded due to the International Olympic Committee meeting there, walking along the street was actually a bit nerve-wracking, even in the middle of the day. Could it be that I was influenced by all the newspapers, like this one, which were headlined every day with graphically-portrayed violent crimes and murders?

Joris left on Friday morning, and on Friday night I left for Flores, up in the Caribbean region of Guatemala. Flores, a little island town, is the closest town to the mythical Mayan ruins of Tikal, to which I took an excursion once I arrived in Flores on Saturday morning. Tikal is amazing. I overheard a group of American tourists talking about the movie "Apocalypto," which I hope did it justice. Because Tikal rivals Machu Picchu, I think. It's not all controlled yet like Machu Picchu is, so you can totally climb the ruins and have your lunch at the top if you want to (this will probably not last, though). You can definitely have mystical alone time with the pyramids, which I did. It was great.

Entre panas y compas

Saludos desde Guatemala, donde los colores abundan, y la lluvia también (por lo menos en esta época). Estoy ahora con mi compadre Joris el belga (un compañero de depto de Stanford) en el pueblo de Panajachel, a orillas del majestuoso Lago Atitlán. Hemos tenido un montón de aventuras.

Nuestra primera parada en Guatemala fue La Antigua, un pueblo colonial cuya arquitectura abarca lo maya y lo español al mismo tiempo. Fue la capital de Guatemala, antes de una serie de terremotos que terminó derrumbándola. Por suerte la han reconstruido. Antigua es un lugar muy cosmopolita, donde se puede salir de un restaurant tailandés y toparse con un niño descalzo vendiendo chicles. Hay mucho extranjero, además de los propios guatemaltecos que vienen a Antigua (que está a una hora de Ciudad de Guatemala) a escaparse por un fin de semana de carrete y descanso. Recorrí las librerías de viejo y compré una novela de Asturias (Guatemalteco/"chapín" y Premio Nobel 1967). Era muy agradable sentarme en la plaza central del pueblo, comiendo un helado y mirando la gente.

Hay que comenzar en Antigua con el Arco de Santa Catalina, debajo del cual tienes que pasar para llegar a la plaza (aunque no antes de pasar por una sucursal del infaltable restaurant cadena de Centroamérica, Pollo Campero). Delante tuyo, a varios kilómetros de distancia, puedes apreciar el Volcán Agua.

Hablando de volcanes, con Joris subimos a uno, el Volcán Pacaya. He aquí la prueba fotográfica de dicha hazaña. Me alegro de que lo haya hecho, pero pucha que me dio miedo en el momento. Al subir, sobre todo en las partes más altas, hubo varios lugares en donde se veía la lava debajo de nuestros pasos, o bien al ladito, y de hecho a veces el suelo mismo estaba caliente. Los suelos de mis zapatillas se empezaron a derretir, de hecho (se lo juro). A un chico en nuestro grupo se le cayó su botella de agua en uno de los hoyos de lava (calderas, en realidad) y enseguida el plástico se derritió y cuando salió el agua de la botella se convirtió en vapor altiro. Nuestro guía puso unos ramos dentro de un hoyo y se les prendió fuego al contacto. Muchas veces el suelo no estaba muy sólido y estaba seguro de que me iba a caer. Se me aguaban los ojos por el calor y el polvo volcánico. Pero viví para contarla. Para que vean lo atrevido que estoy últimamente. No sé qué tan seguro era este tour, pero por suerte el gobierno de Guatemala considera que el volcán no es demasiado peligroso para llevar masas de turistas casi hasta la cumbre, en dos turnos por día.

Gracias a la sugerencia de la estimada Marcela Díaz, ex jefa y actual socia del autor, al día siguiente arrendamos unas bicicletas y recorrimos los pueblos y las fincas de café alrededor de Antigua. Lo pasamos muy bien y pudimos apreciar lugares que de otra forma jamás hubiéramos conocido por lo remotos. Además era entretenido conversar con la gente cuando teníamos que parar a pedir direcciones, porque nos perdíamos a cada rato. Eso fue ayer, antes de abordar un bus a Panajachel.

Al llegar ahí, nos dejamos asombrar por el Lago Atitlán. Y hoy, tomamos una lancha que nos llevó a tres otros pueblos alrededor del lago: Santiago, San Pedro y San Antonio. Lo más divertido fue nuestra visita a Maximón, que es como el santo de Santiago de Atitlán. Tuvimos que pagar 10 quetzales de ofrenda (US$1,25) para entrar a su sanctuario, donde estaba parada una figura de madera, vestida con textiles de la región, además de pañuelos de seda y corbatas supuestamente traídos de Japón, Corea e Italia. Ah, y tenía un puro entre los labios de la cara (o sea, una máscara, porque según nuestro guía, Maximón tiene una cara detrás de la máscara, pero sólo los que están a punto de morir la ven). Me alegro de que su cara me haya sido invisible. Así que hicimos nuestras reverencias a don Maximón, y a la cofradía de hombres que lo cuidaban mientras se tomaban su aguardiente. Lástima que no nos hayan dejado sacar fotos. Pero por respeto a Maximón me abstuve.

Saludos especiales a Marcela y a Eli Aranda por los datos.

Pura Vida

Whereas the earlier parts of my trip have focused more on cities and ruins, my time in Central America, particularly Costa Rica, has been mostly about nature. Costa Rica has an amazing level of biodiversity, and since there's not much else to do besides check it out, I have been "forced" to slather on the ol' mosquito repellent and, like, go outside or whatever.

And it has not been a let-down at all. Costa Rica is a highly developed country, in comparison to other places in Central America, and tourism--particuarly nature tourism, and the often-misused term describing its cousin, "ecotourism"--is priority number one for these people. Obviously they can't guarantee that you will go into a forest and see a ton of animals, or that if you go to hike up a volcano it won't be pouring rain on top of you, but the sights here are so amazing they barely need to worry about that.

My Belgian friend Joris, who was my roommate my first year at Stanford, is here with me and persuaded me that it was a good idea to rent a car (he is a management consultant and he's paid to make things more efficient, which I guess goes for this part of the trip as well). Despite my initial misgivings (would Che Guevara ever use Avis?), I went along with it, and I'm glad I did. We have been able to cover a lot more ground, and go at our own pace. And Costa Rica is a safe and easy place to drive, so it's no big deal.

For me, a major highlight of the trip was the area around Monteverde, in the northwestern part of the country. Monteverde was initially a settlement of Mennonites from North America who went to Costa Rica because they were against the war in Korea and didn't want to fight. Costa Rica, by the way, is a very consciously anti-war country. It doesn't have an army, and people can't carry guns. The President (Oscar Arias) is a Nobel Peace Prize winner for brokering peace within El Salvador (I think). Very cool. Monteverde has the double distinction of being at the forefront both of Costa Rican pacifism and environmental protection.

The town of Monteverde is right next to a big nature reserve and "cloud forest." We first did what's called a "canopy tour," where you harness up and then fly over the forest on a zipline. It was awesome, a total adrenaline rush. At several points we were 90 m above the forest, and the lines were up to 700 m long. The best part was the end of it, where you do what they called a "Tarzan Swing," grabbing onto a rope (with a harness on and stuff) and then jumping off a 20-foot cliff. I was sure I was going to die. The picture here is of Joris; the picture of me doing it is on his camera.

We took a night hike there as well, but there weren't that many animals because it was "too windy." The poor guide was a little frustrated, and spent too long showing us moths, sleeping birds and tarantulas cowering in their holes. It was kind of disappointing, but we totally made up for it the next day. We went to the reserve for a 2-hour guided hike, which turned out to be one of the highlights of my entire trip so far. Our guide, a guy named Carlos, was very knowledgeable about the area, and his enthusiasm about nature was infectious, particularly on that day. This was apparently a red-letter day for the Monteverde Reserve, because we saw so many animals that Carlos was practically jumping up and down with his bird-watching telescope device. We saw three (!) quetzals (pictured here, taken with my camera), which are endangered species--amazing green and red birds native to Central America. We also saw bellbirds, which are also endangered. We saw a family of howler monkeys running through the trees RIGHT above us. We saw tarantulas, millipedes, larvae of different things, walking sticks, an agouti (a type of rodent), several turkeys (not like the kind we eat at Thanksgiving, but they were still big) and a ton of different kinds of butterflies. Apparently it's super hard to see quetzals, so we were really lucky.

Our guide in Monteverde, as well as the other guides and hotel administrators that we have had contact with along the way, have been highly professional and incredibly knowledgeable people. Aside from knowing English impressively well and being able to articulately explain the intricacies of the ecosystems of Costa Rica, they have been unfailingly friendly and nice. Most have gone out of their way to make our trip a pleasant experience. They make travelling in this country almost disconcertingly easy (I need to remember that I can't get used to that!). Costa Rica is a great place to go for people who don't necessarily know Spanish but want to go to an interesting, far off destination. It's safe, accessible and easy to travel here (I think I have seen more gringos than Costa Ricans, actually...that might have annoyed me if I hadn't just come from Colombia). It's refreshing for me to see my compatriots enjoying Latin America en masse. Costa Ricans like to say "pura vida" ("pure life") all the time--they use that to say "cool," or "ok," or "no problem." It really works.

From Monteverde we drove to La Fortuna, which is a town at the foot of Arenal, one of the world's five most active volcanoes. It spews lava all the time, and it's really spectacular at night. Apparently Arenal supplies 45% of Costa Rica's energy. We also spent some time at some hot springs nearby. I had been to hot springs in Chile, but this is Costa Rica, where tourist attractions are more like destinations. So these hot springs had a restaurant, swim-up bars, massage areas, 9 pools with different temperatures, and saunas.

Oh, and on the way from Monteverde to Arenal we went to Viento Fresco, with four waterfalls. And we swam under one of them. It was great.

Now we are back in San José, because we are flying to Guatemala tomorrow morning. San José is impressive for how unimpessive it is. There are very few buildings higher than 3 or 4 stories, at least in the center--I'm assuming due to earthquakes. But it's a very agreeable town (it totally feels like a town, like Temuco or something), and doesn't have the unpleasantness of the "zona rosa" with gringo bars jumbled up next to slums. There are plenty of nice, unpretentious places where ticos (that's what Costa Ricans call themselves, probably because it's annoying to say "yo soy costarricense") and gringos mingle and where it's sometimes even hard to distinguish between the two. Which is a nice change. I hear Guatemala's a little different though.

A Man, a Plan, a Canal...

Couldn't get that palindrome out of my head today. It's kind of catchy though, in my case...

After almost two weeks in Colombia, it's almost as if I am experiencing reverse culture shock in Panama. In its non-third world sections, it's practically like the 51st state. They sell Spicy Nacho Doritos at the grocery stores (haven't found Ranch yet, but I'm not giving up hope), our hostel serves pancake breakfasts, and taxis quote you their prices in English. Oh, and in dollars, since Panama uses the US Dollar as its currency. The hostel is clearly not used to dealing with Americans that are a little less clueless about how to move around in Latin American cities, and I was surprised with their genuine concern when I asked the lady at the reception desk about taking a taxi to the canal zone and not asking it to wait for us there (and sort of taking a chance as to whether we could get back via taxi...even though you can take busses as well): she said that the hostel couldn't take "responsibility" for us if we did such a thing. It almost made me laugh: since when has a hostel in Latin America even used the word "responsibility" in my presence, particularly in regard to my own well-being? Luckily I can handle the "foreign" and "unknown" aspects of Panama without needing my hand to be held throughout.

As for the canal itself, it was truly impressive. We went to the Miraflores Locks, which is the section of the canal closest to the capital. We went through the museum there, which went over the origins of the canal, the thousands of people who died during its construction (mostly of tropical diseases, which were later eliminated), the massive and innovative machines that dug out the canal, the nationalist uprising in the 60s during which Panamanians began to claim the canal for themselves (it was controlled by the US after it was built), its handover in 1999 to the Panamanian government, and furture plans to expand it. There were exhibits of the gnarly insects from the surrounding jungles as well, and the techniques used to guide vessels through the narrow canal (trains on tracks on each side of the "Panamax" ship tug it along, leaving just inches between the ship and the sides of the canal). And, the trade routes the canal serves: South America's west coast (Chile is the canal's 4th-largest user...holler) to Europe, the US's west coast to its east coast, the American east coast to Asia, and even South America's west coast to its east coast, among others. With globalization, traffic through the canal can only grow. And now that it's owned by Panama, the revenues from the vessels can go in benefit of the Panamanian people (in theory).

Panama has also offered us a ton of interesting people-watching opportunities, because its population (at least in the capital) is so diverse. From the herd of Americans who seem to live here (because most of them were talking on their cell phones), to the Chinese people who own the laundromat where I washed my clothes, to rico y famoso blond Panamanians, to people of African and mestizo descent, it seems to be quite a melting pot. And that's very interesting.

We went to a music festival this evening in the city's Casco Viejo, the colonial section. It was a lot like Cartagena's old city, but ten times more dilapidated. Restoration efforts seem to be gathering steam, though. Hopefully the inevitable gentrification can take place in such a way as to not push the poor residents of the casco out.

Panama City is a modern metropolis with a skyline that's way out of proportion to its size: with just 700,000 residents, it has a ton of highrises with representations of banks from all over North America, Europe and Latin America. Panama proudly announces itself as a "tax haven," which I think might be a bit of a euphemism (at least sometimes) for money laundering and tax shelters. The term is best in Spanish: a "tax paradise." Works for me.

Locombia se despide

Para que no se preocupen, después de leer el último posteo, que me haya integrado a las FARC, les aviso que me he ido de Colombia a Panamá, y me encuentro sano y salvo de cuerpo y mente. Pasé mucho más tiempo en Colombia de lo previsto, porque lo encontré absolutamente encantador. A diferencia de otros países en Latinoamérica, no están chatos con la cantidad de gringos desfilando por todos sus sitios turísticos. O sea que si eres un extranjero, todavía te tratan súper bien, te preguntan muchas cosas, y te hacen sentirte un poco menos extranjero. Aparte que los colombianos son tan amables y cálidos por naturaleza.

Algo de sentimientos encontrados: después de todo, me he ido definitivamente de Sudamérica.

En Colombia, me fui después de Popayán y San Agustín a Armenia, en el mero corazón del eje cafetero colombiano, donde me quedé en una finca cafetera y visité el Parque Nacional del Café. De ahí a Bogotá, donde me encontré con mi amigo Liam, que tal vez algunos conocerán porque me vino a visitar en Chile. Fuimos al museo de oro de Bogotá--ciudad que se parece bastante a Santiago, por clima, elevación, cultura y gente, con la excepción de que el TransMilenio funciona y el Transantiago está ahí no más--y al museo de Botero. Pero pasamos repoco ahí antes de seguir a Cartagena, donde sí pasamos bastante tiempo.

Evidencia del funcionamiento del TransMilenio:


Cartagena es un paraíso. En su casco antiguo, es una ciudad colonial, muy bien restaurada--un poco como La Habana. Y un poco más allá por la costa encuentras un banco de condominios rascacielos para colombianos millonarios y/o narcos. Y de ahí llegas a las casas del Presidente Uribe, de García Márquez y de Shakira. Cuando nos cansamos de recorrer las calles coloniales y los museos, nos mandamos a cambiar a Playa Blanca, una hora afuera de la ciudad en lancha, donde las aguas eran turquesas, cálidas y cristalinas y aún no hay mucho desarrollo turístico (aunque parece que esto está a punto de cambiar, pues nos dijeron que ya se va a construir un gran resort). Ahí dormimos en hamacas y cubiertos por redes para protegernos de los mosquitos (aunque igual me picaron ene), y durante los días comíamos pescado y nadábamos, e hicimos esnorkel. Me sentía como Jacques Cousteau--nunca había hecho ese tipo de buceo y quedé maravillado con este ecosistema bajo el agua que nunca se ve así como así.

Y pasamos un día en el Parque Nacional Tayrona, más hacia Santa Marta, donde todo es mucho más agreste y hay muy pocas playas donde se puede nadar, por las corrientes peligrosas. Pero igual era muy lindo. Me hubiera encantado colgar una hamaca ahí mismo y dormir al son de las olas, pero no había tiempo.

Así que ayer, después de tres chequeos de nuestro equipaje de mano, una inspección completa del equipaje despachado (tuvimos que sacar todo lo que había adentro para que se aseguraran de que no llevábamos drogas), dos chequeos de detectores de metales, y el pago de algunos impuestos (y la devolución de otros--no me pregunten por qué), volamos desde Cartagena a Ciudad de Panama, en un avión de turbohélice.

Guest Post II de la web MSGG

[This is from one of my old coworkers back at the Presi's Palace in Stgo...]

Informe N° 002, del Ministerio de Seguridad del Estado de la Página Web, Departamento del Código HTML, Unidad Copy Paste.

Antecedentes: Estado de avance y falta de satélite para la búsqueda del ciudadano norteameraucano*: Carl [redacted]

Nombre de Pila en Chile: "Cafiche(r)", "Gringo".

Siendo junio 15 del año en curso, con un frío de los mil demonios posterior a un frente de mal tiempo, se informa lo siguiente:

1º Que luego de pasar meses con déficit de lluvias, lo que en realidad preocupaba a las autoridades en relación a una nueva crisis energética, se comunica que el país cuenta con un superávit del 2% de lluvias......... 15 damnificados, dos pasos bajo nivel anegados, y 6 tapas de alcantarilla extraviadas, las que se presumen se encuentran en el fondo marino frente a las costas de Valparaíso.

2º Que aunque no existan nuevas lluvias en lo que resta del año, y se tema por una crisis energética, la Institución se encuentra en absoluta tranquilidad debido a que los últimos estudios indican:

Que las reservas de vino tinto, ron, pisco y cerveza alcanzan sin inconvenientes hasta el Bicentenario de la República. Posterior a este magno evento se declarará al país bajo "alerta máxima" y "estado de sitio".

3º Que debido a un error involuntario (extravío de la Resolución Nº 35376711, que reglamenta la compra de huincha aisladora), se informa que no se sellaron lo cables del satélite chileno Fasat Alfa encargado de buscar al ciudadano norteameraucano Carl Fischer y de coordinar el sistema GPS del Plan de Transporte "Transantiago". Este hecho provocó la caída del satélite sobre un bus troncal, lo que ha generado retrasos de hasta dos horas..... en los 5 últimos meses.

Finalmente, la institución informa que se encuentra en buen estado sorteando con hidalguía las diferentes tareas, a pesar de las inclemencias del tiempo, y la nula contratación (hasta la fecha) de un traductor norteameraucano(*) a la altura de Fischer.

Esperamos que el Sr. Fischer se encuentre en buen estado, tanto físico, como sicológico y a la vez etílico.

Se adjunta la última foto satelital enviada desde el fax de Fasat Alfa.



(*) Norteameraucano: Gringo nacido en USA, que se vino a Chile y habla Mapuche.

PD: Con fecha 19 de junio, se procederá a la construcción de un nuevo satélite con el fin de seguir la búsqueda del mencionado ciudadano.

Se aceptan sus donaciones en el teléfono 56 2 600 200 SATELITE o en la página web: www.unsateliteparachile.cl

Tropical Paradise

If you've been following this blog regularly, you know by now that I am loving Colombia. I wasn't planning on staying this long, and I should be close to Panama City by now on a sailboat, but instead I've decided to just fly to Panama tomorrow (making this my last full day in Colombia, which is mega sad) to take full advantage of this place. My friend Liam is here, which I might have mentioned before, and we decided that exploring more of "Locombia" would be a lot cooler than just sitting on a boat looking out at the water.

We spent a lot of time in Cartagena de Indias, which is right on the Caribbean. It's been spared most of the problems that have plagued this country over the years, since it's kind of on the margins of the country and away from the biggest cocaine plants (from what I understand). Cartagena is very "Pirates of the Caribbean." It's the city that pretty much every pirate movie takes place in. You take a lot of interesting colonial architecture, balconies with a ton of vines, a little cracked paint, and women of African descent walking around with big trays of mangos and passion fruits balanced on their heads, and you're ready for Red Beard to jump out from behind the next building any second. Meanwhile, there are a ton of 6-foot-tall Colombian supermodels everywhere, on vacation I guess, and lots of opportunities to drink ice cold beers while sitting in hammocks. In short: paradise. Plus it's totally safe--much safer than other parts of the country. If you ever have the opportunity to come to Cartagena, you should.

We also took a side trip to Totumo Volcano, which is more like a 10-foot-tall pile of warm mud that bubbles up from the ground. Supposedly it has healing properties. Liam actually dunked his head under the surface of the mud to see just how curative it was. For a second there I wasn't sure if I'd ever see him again, but we survived. So did my watch, by the way. Takes a lickin'...

From Cartagena we took a boat about 1 hour east to Boru, which is the first of an archipelago called the Rosario Islands. We stayed at a place called Playa Blanca, which was just the textbook white sand beach with warm, crystalline turquoise waters. Nothing like eating a salad of fruits like maracuyá, mango, guanabana, pineapple while overlooking the ocean (my stomach didn't even flinch...I am invincible to South American bacteria). We also took a snorkeling tour through the coral reefs of the Rosario Islands, and I wish I could have taken pictures of what I saw under the water. I had never gone snorkeling before, so it was like a revelation to me. I felt like Jacques Cousteau...or at least like Steve Zissou. There were fish that literally glowed in purples, oranges and blues that were really striking.

Last night we went further up the Caribbean coast to the city of Santa Marta, and today we went to Tayrona National Park, a huge protected area with wild beaches and some untouched jungle a bit further inland. We hiked through the park, past leaf-carrying ants, Audrey II-like flowers and tarantulas (Liam said they were crabs, but they looked like tarantulas to me), to a gorgeous beach. If we'd had an extra day on our hands we could have hung up hammocks nearby and fallen asleep to the crashing waves, but unfortunately we had to return to Santa Marta (a trip that included an interesting, and as-yet unexplained, encounter with the cops, who stopped our bus and used a knife to cut a hole in the upholstery of the roof of the bus...luckily they didn't seem to find anything) so that we could get back to Cartagena tomorrow morning and fly to Panama tomorrow afternoon. Where we will meet up with my Stanford friend Joris, who will be flying in from Brussels tomorrow evening.