Soy Extranjero. #14

(from my journal)

Esta es Mi Cancíon de Carretera
No hay signos que me diran donde ir
Los encontrare cuando el guia corazon me quiera decir
Las millas del desierto me enfrentan desconocido
Las millas del desierto me enseñan lo que conosco

Escucho cuando mis llantas hablan
Me dicen que el camino es lejos
Les dije vamos derecho y seguro
No podemos equivocarnos, fuimos demasiado lejos

Encontré una chica con ojos verdes
La deje en el puerto con mi llaves
Las millas del desierto son mi amor ahora
Esta es mi cancion de carretera

(alright, alright in the queens tounge…)

This is My Highway Song
There are no signs that tell me where to go
I’ll find it when heart-guide wants to tell me
Desert miles in front of me unknown
Desert miles teach me what I know

I listen when my tires speak
They tell me the road is long
I tell them we’re going straight and safely
We’ve come too far for mistakes

I met a girl with green eyes
I left it at the door with my keys
Desert miles are my lover now
This is my highway song

After a super-relaxing visit in Baños, I stashed the bike and took a bus trip to Colombia. I checked out Cali (Salsa danced with the legends) and pushed on to Bogotá; where I got down with Fabian (my roommate from Buenos Aires) and his awesome family.

I have ALOT to say about Columbia, but I don’t have time to type it out today. So for now, I’ll answer everyone questions and look for a rant about Columbia soon… :)

—————————————-
What´s the first thing you´re doing when you get home?
Setting fire to the clothes i brought on this trip. Fifteen weeks of travel and TWO t-shirts. Just let that thought sink in a minute…

What have you learned about yourself from this trip?
Regarding Luke functioning in a second language… I thought being reduced to the linguistic dexterity of a 9 year old would be more of a social handicap than it was. Turns out I don’t need the English language to make friends and have really meaningful interactions. I think when it comes to dealing with people I’m working from a different place than I thought all along…

How do you think this trip will affect your life upon return?
Too early to say.

Any love life or romantic interests during the trip?
My romantic involvement with my girlfriend (aka my bicycle) continues to grow. She’s smart, she’s sexy, and she complains less than the other loves I´ve brought on the road. :P

If you’re such a hard core biker, why are you *flying* back from South America?
Why visit Central America when I live in the Mission? ;)
Seriously, I never said I’m a hard core biker. In fact, I’m a huge wuss. But every now and again I go out and take calculated risks and pleasantly surprise myself. The only way one’s ever able to do anything is to go out and do it. So I dunno, if I get the druthers maybe I will through-bike it next time. (if you listen carefully after you read that you can hear the sound of my mother collapsing from a heart attack)
But again on a serious note, the ecological problem on mother earth is extremely dire. This is costing more lives than all the wars combined. In addition to toxic stew, the ice caps are melting and the oceans rising. We should all reduce our chemical and carbon footprints while pushing for meaningful policy change. Flying and driving are of course not things I do frivolously. The greener option (besides biking) are the barges that run from LA and NYC; but since they’re not yet geared towards passengers prices are currently outrageous.

Do we have to call you Lucas now?
Sure, why not; it´s the name on my birth certificate after all. But I’ll cut you a deal (this question came from Nora): you can call me “Luke” if I can call you “Nor”. We got a deal, Nor´?

When’s the Welcome Home Luke/Lucas? party?
Oh goodness, can you feel the anticipation? I think the stripper marching band is a go but you wouldn’t believe what the city wants in permits just to flood the Mission with bubble bath. It’s gonna be epic.

Did you always bike alone? Did you get lonely sometimes?
I rode with locals for short stints, but never encountered any other bike tourers on the road. Geminis have a dicey relationship with solitude: we either entertain ourselves or the twins start wrestling… Thankfully, everywhere I went I met really great people so I never really got lonely. :)

How many kilometers did you ride?
Not even 2800km. Like I said, i’m a weenie. I wore out a rear tire, set of brake pads, snapped the supports off my rear rack on both sides and my (new) back rim is headed for the landfill… But luck was with me the whole time: no major mechanicals or crashes.

What`s the most random thing you saw? A seriously-indigenous man in Jujuy, Argentina, selling coca leaves and wearing an Iowa State Hawkeyes Starter jacket.

If a couple wanted to have a nice vacation a little less (or a lot less) adventuresome than yours would you have a suggestion from where you have been. Hotels no camping please.
First-time Latin-America travelers will benefit from doing more research upfront and buying a guidebook (Footprint or Lonely Planet) for the country(s) they are visiting.
Ecuador is a solid all-around deal. The mountains and jungle are great and there are a few recommendable beaches. One can totally relax in the mountain towns (Cuenca, Baños, Otavalo…) as they are quite safe and comfortable. Its easy to get around this small country; yet it has an enticing, unexplored feel. The currency is the US dollar, so you never have to change money or do math.
Peru on the tourist trail (Cusco-Arequipa-Lima) has the archaeological treasures which bring throngs of visitors here each year. Because they see more tourists, they are better equipped to accommodate you. You can find people who speak English and understand where you’re coming from. The tradeoff is there are too many people trying to sell you stuff. Argentina is simply amazing. The culture and nature are profoundly beautiful and unique. Culture-shock is low by South American standards and luxuries are easy to find. It’s affordable now but that could change so get it while it’s hot.
Bolivian cities (La Paz, Chochabamba, Santa Cruz..) are where you get to experience the purchasing power of Donald Trump. It’s cheap. You can buy all your creature comforts (if you can find them!). One can live well here.

————————————————

Well, my bike is boxed, my bags packed and I’m waiting for my plane to leave Quito. This is the part where I roll the credits and fade to black. Below is a very incomplete list of the supporting cast of characters behind the scenes of this adventure. Thank you all for your help!!! And thank you for reading.

–Lucas

The Credits (in order of appearance)
-Everyone who came to my going away party.
-Matt and TFK for repuestos.
-Steve Aus-the-Haus for repuestos.
-Uncle Showy´s bike shop: a division of McShow-McTakeoverTheWorld Industries.
-Jill the CL-rando with the lowdown on BsAs.
-George Christionson for much wisdom and inspiration.
-Petunia-McSexy-Bike for the COMPAS and natural antibiotic stuff I didnt need because of my uber guts. muahahahaha.
-Neighbor-Greg for intel on Argentina.
-Nora for the journal and “under the sign of the bike” book and pet rock.
-Claudia for intel on Peru.
-Oshana for intel on Peru.
-Vanessa, Jaime & amazing bicycle-people in general.
-La amorosa Sofia Ayelen Gavajda: abrazos, muuuah!
-La Hinchada de San Telmo: Norbert, Fabian, Israel, Ricardo y Heleota.
-Gisela y Lucia (mi amiga de Gemini) por sus paciencia.
-Osito, Osi-dog, here boy! off my leg.
-Miguel “El guia de fiesta” Davalos y El Kolla de Tilcara (ok, so Kolla was this old-timer who had ridden from Argentina to Canada and was sitting in with the band and wrote a song on the spot dedicated to me. Good times. Miguel made it happen ).
-Dumbasses who steal things and then don’t watch where they run.
-Everyone at AdventureBrew in La Paz.
-Beer in general.
-Jorge Anderson: you rock man.
-Friendly gringas Allegra and Gabby.
-Next Generation Director Roni Krouzman (just for an aimless shoutout, didn’t actually do anything. ;) ).
-Yoseph, John, Neto and everyone at The Flying Dog in Lima.
-Miguel, Herman and everyone at Andean Amazon Adventures.
-Jim, Marsha and everyone at Posada del Arte: my home away from home in Baños.
-La Familia Morales por muchos hospitalidad en Bogata. -Stefan Lynch and Brooke for gardening help.
-Ericka for not setting fire to anything in my crib. (I hope)
-People who are still reading and haven’t tuned me out at this point (you have too much free time!)

Soy Extranjero. #13

Bienveniedos a Banco de Credito-Sur America please insert your card, thank you, now enter your PIN… balance inquiry or withdrawel?, checking or savings?, enter the amount you would like… thank you, please take your cash, have a nice day. gringo. muahahahaha…NOW. The ATM spits out a small stack of brightly colored bills featuring the faces of white guys in military uniforms who look nothing like the local populous. You are holding local currency. Or is it that easy?… While conventional wisdom says you’ve got bank and it’s time to party; in reality your battle has just begun. You can’t spend those notes. The insidious machine has dispensed you denominations of 50 and 100: crazy tourist money. Now begins the struggle to break those bills in a world where nobody has change.

I think anyone who’s traveled South America can bond with me on this rant: getting change is hell. It’s maddening, it’s bizarre, it’s outright disconcerting … Run up a tab of 4.50 at a restaurant and try to pay with a 10 and you’ll invariably be asked “Do you have anything smaller?” What!?… Don’t have exact change?; easy, they won’t sell you anything. I envision locals paying their rent and mortgage with wheelbarrows of coins; they’re hording the goods. Next time give me a dozen guards and a train of llamas and I’ll carry my bounty of coins (totalling $35US) from town to town the old fashioned way. ;)

But change is a good thing, so I’ve changed countries once again; to my fourth and final ECUADOR!!! It’s great to be back. :)

From Mancura I biked over the border: where I took a bus through the (border contested) jungle to Cuenca, Ecuador: it’s a beautiful place. Bold colonial architecture and cobblestone streets played brilliantly against the steep Andean backdrop. The ascent out of Cuenca was what we call a “leg burner”; the climbs were long and relentless. But I was too fixated on the scenery to notice pain. The Ecuadorian Andeas tend to be much greener than Peru. Primitive dwellings tucked among thick tropical vegetation on almost-vertical hillsides have an otherworldly beauty. I thought to myself if New Zealand hadn’t of worked out; Peter Jackson could have totally shot Middle Earth here.

Ninety twisty kilometers later I was running out of daylight on a mountain pass in thick fog and light rain. A park ranger told me there was camping (but no hotels) in the tiny town of Zhud. The drizzle continued all the way to Zhud, where I started asking around for the alleged camping. Nobody knew. I walked into a front yard bar-b-que and started talking to people. A lumberjack-meets-santa-looking man stepped forward and said he could help. I followed him across the road where he kicked open the door of the small outbuilding. Dirt floors, mud walls, animal smells not too-overwhelming: I’ll take it. Roberto introduced himself and invited me in for a snack. There were three such shacks on the property; Roberto slept in one and had his kitchen in the other. In the dirt-floored kitchen, he served us warm milk and bread.

Animals were everywhere at Roberto’s place. Ducks, chickens, geese, cats and even pigeons walked in and showed off while we were dining. The conversation was awesome. Roberto lived off the land and almost off the grid. Almost all his food and provisions were produced on-site. We talked about composting, canning, drying, chickens and even permaculture. I said goodnight and returned to my shed where I studied it’s construction.

The roof timbers appeared native and home-made. A single incandescent bulb hung from a cord in the middle of the room. The walls were mud+straw bricks sealed together with more mud. The walls were covered with newspaper (to keep the support timbers from sticking during assembly?). I struggled to read the yellowed newspapers and found a reference to Reagan; the only way I could date the building. I slept like a baby on the dirt floor with pigeons cooing under the overhang and light rain tapping the tin roof.

In the morning Roberto came knocking and invited me over for breakfast. He again served warm milk and bread, and I contributed fresh fruit and some cheese. We laughed as two cats wrestled in vain with the milk pot’s cast iron lid. Exhausted, they curled up for a snooze on the counter. It was time for me to go.

As I packed up the bike, Roberto studied my gear and methods. I showed him bike shoes, tools, maps and modern camping gear; none of which he’d seen before. We said goodbyes and I offered money for the camping, which he refused.

I snapped some pictures of the shack and started chugging up the hill. At the turnoff, I stopped to adjust some things and Roberto appeared from behind some trees. He had hiked a steep 50 yards to watch me ride off. I ask if I could take his picture and he cheesed and stuck out his chest. He said if I ever come back to Zhud I’m welcome to crash the chicken coop again and we both laughed. I headed out with a mountain range in front of me and seeds of peace behind. I always have my best days of biking after experiences like that.

—————-

11 more days! I’m writing this from the beautiful balcony (overlooking a waterfall) of Posada Del Arte, in Baños, Ecuador (my planned ending point) I MADE IT! The Posada is owned by bicycle-advocates (& Chicago ex-pats) Jim and Marsha Redd: whom I toured with here a year ago. I’d recommend Baños and The Posada to anyone looking for the best of everything the amazing country of Ecuador has to offer. (ok, so my room here is like a mansion rather than a chicken coop; so I’m a sufficiently stoked about it. :) )

Next time I’m just answering questions so SEND ME ANY QUESTIONS YOU HAVE regarding; my trip, bike touring, independent travel, south america, learning Spanish, open-field tackling or whatever you want me to talk about… I promise I’ll answer most of the good ones and all of the silly ones. :)

‘Tell next time, 2 feet on the pedals & rubber side down,
–Lucas

Oh yeah, and regarding the “Cuy” (guinea pig), i’ve been looking and can’t find one! Turns out eating rat is a southern-andeas thing? They don’t do it in other areas of Peru. I asked restaurants all the way up the coast and got laughed at. Tie may go to the vermin after all. Unless someone wants to hit up the pet store with me when I get back to Frisco… I’ve got my Aunt Shirley’s bar-b-que sauce, could be a party. ;)

Soy Extranjero. #12

GOOOOOOOOOOD MORNING JUNGLE-FROGS!!! Ok, check this; deep in the Peruvian jungle there’s a frog the size of a small cantaloupe. It`s a prized delicacy consumed by locals. It’s name, “Hualo” (ooah’ lo), comes from the uber-loud whomping sound (starts at middle-D on treble clef and grunts up to A) it makes all friggin’ night when tourists are trying to sleep in their tents. The best part?: drinking it’s urine makes you hallucinate for 6 days! (ok, so I made up the psycadelic-urine part, but you’re welcome to try it if you want. None for me, thank you. :) )

So I parked the bike and set out to do the second and final uber-touristy thing on my trip: a jungle tour. Giant whomping frogs aside, the Peruvian jungle is extremely rad. But getting to the jungle was arguably even more cool. In Yurimaguas, I boarded a huge river freighter on the Huallaga. The main deck carried cows, crates of chickens, bundles of plantains and sacks of potatoes and onions. The upper two decks were for passengers. Passengers must bring their own hammock and hang it. You should also bring a Tupperware bowl as meals are provided but plates are not. The whole boat assumed the vibe of “tent city” at a music festival; as people started mingling and sharing food. I was on this boat for 3 days. When the Huallaga merges with the Marañón; it’s officially called “The Amazon”. The birth of one of the world’s great rivers is quite a thing to behold. I saw huge river dolphins (bufeo) swimming and fish on boats that had to weigh 2-300 lbs. The boat docked in Lagunas and I headed for the jungle with 7 other tourists.

We traveled in dugout canoes and snacked on local fruit. We slept deep in the jungle under mosquito nets in a stilted thatched-roof shelter. The trees were alive with the chatter of birds, bugs and monkeys. The stars were brighter than I’ve ever seen them. I saw the big dipper for the first time in a while (you can’t see it further south).

My guide for the ride home, Hermán, didn’t own shoes. His skin was leathery from decades of extreme sun and bug repellent. Hermán had spent his entire life in this jungle and could imitate all the bird calls and get replies. As I studied the man paddling canoe in his element; I wanted to ask the obvious question, but Hermán shot back the ” don’t you dare ask about god damned Steve Irwin“-look so I asked anyway (he was a huge fan and quite sad when Steve died. it’s just that everyone asks).

I spotted a good-sized crocodile and Hermán and I “mucked with ‘em” for a while. It was an oar’s-length away when I stuck my hand out joking that I’d give it the bait. Hermán about messed his pants. Not sure what was wrong with jungle-boy’s sense of humor, but I enjoyed watching Hermán freak out. :)

We found a big group of Squirrel Monkeys and watched monkey chaos. When the monkeys cleared a huge Guacamaayo Rojo (Tucan) was sitting there. I looked at him like “whoa! you’d be like $500 in a pet store.” and the bird looked back at me like “yeah I know, I’m pretty much the shnizbit”. Tucans are so friggin’ cocky.

I was of course asking alot of questions about animals, and Hermán had would always disregard what I asked and instead give his hallmark phrase: “Si, muy rico (delicious), la carne de [animal you asked about]“. So I asked him if there was anything in the jungle he didn’t eat; and he said he hadn’t tried Tarantula (but added he thought it would be best fried). So I asked him what’s the tastiest thing in the jungle, and you know what he said? … (I’ll give you a minute to think. OK your minutes up)… Sloth. Hermán-the-monkey-man says Sloth is the tastiest animal in the jungle.

So there you have it; go out and do stuff!!! Or your lazyness will render you sloth-like and tasty and Hermán will come looking. I’m quite busy myself: biking the north coast (Mancura) and hoping to catch some surfing luck tomorrow. :) Suerte.

–Lucas