Mr. & Mrs. International Manifestations

…my only friend, the end.

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De Oaxaca, dans le sud du Mexique, nous nous approchons de Mexico city demain mercredi pour prendre l’avion jeudi matin vers Chihuahua, a quelques heures de la frontiere avec les Etats-Unis. De la, nous continuerons vers l’etat du Nouveau Mexique, aux USA je confirme, pour travailler un mois ou plus dans une ferme qui fait du fromage de chevre. C’est une ferme isole dans la campagne, loin de tout, endroit ideal pour absorber les mois de changements, d’aventures et de voyage qui viennent de se derouler, un an de passer si vite. Plus on grandit et plus ca va vite.

Cette annee, j’ai:
- participe a des ceremonies shamaniques
- escalade une montagne Dieu
- traverse un archipel des Caraibes en voilier
- discute avec un perroquet
- ecoute les harmoniques du Pacifique
- trouve, ouvert a la machette et deguste des cocos sur les plages
- vu la pluie tombe a torrents dans la jungle verte pendant des jours
- entendu et observe des singes dans leur habitat naturels
- monte un volcan et marche a cote d’une coulee de lave
- plonge en plein ocean avec un paisible requin baleine, aussi plonge la nuit
- vu les paquebots traverse Panama
entre autres……..

C’est la fin d’un an de sac-a-dos, c’est mi-larmes, mi-rires. Pour ceux qui croient encore que c’etait juste comme un an de vacances, je precise que non, c’etait pas tous les jours facile, et cela d’un point de vue pratique et bien sur emotionnel. On l’a fait, on est ensemble. La victoire individuelle et d’un couple.

After we got off the boat, spent Christmas day watching huge vessels squeeze through the Panama Canal, things began to speed up.  Time remained constant, slipping by as regularly as it always had, but we had begun to see things differently.  An event approached in the horizon.  Mrs. International is a resident of the United States and if she stays gone for more than one year, the government decides that she isn´t residing there anymore.  Fair enough, I guess.  Like some great black hole, the 10th of March begins to pull us closer and faster towards the Lone Star State. 

 4 months in Peru, 3 in Ecuador, 3 in Colombia.  After so long in these three countries (leaving so much still unexplored and unknown), we spent 4 days in Panama, 1 night in Costa Rica, and 10 days in Nicaragua.  Then another 10 days in the Bay Islands of Honduras doing more scuba diving.  Now, in Guatemala, or half of us are, at least.  The change from South to Central America brought many similiarities and many differences. 

 The main thing that was the same was the food.  Although there are more tortillas here, the same food abounds…rice, beans, chicken…soup if youre lucky.  They still speak Spanish here, but its a little different.  Theres still a heavy Rich Country influence, although its more pronounced here.  Panama City, for example, seems more to be the 51st state than another country with its pleathora of franchises…McDonalds, KFC, Popeyes, Taco Bell, Ford, Bennihanas, TGIFridays…the list goes on and on and I couldnt help but think that when Panama began using the dollar decades ago, they sold a part of their own culture and individuality. 

The biggest difference that we saw was the poverty.  For sure, the countries that we visited in South America had their fair share of poverty (but nowhere near the level that I saw in India), but the people never appeared to be starving.  They lived in the jungle, a lush wonderland literally filled with things people can eat.  But Central America welcomed us to bigger differences of rich and poor.  We watched dirt smeared beggars sift through mountains of trash, just below the newest high-rise where countless fatcats where looking down upon their newly purchased kingdom.  The trend has followed us ever since…a population drowing in their own misery.  Unlike their South American brethren, who still seem to be able to survive, these poor souls are cut off from the land, the one thing that has kept them alive throughout their history, including the last 500 years of European-American imperialism, in all its unctuous forms. 

We´re in the home stretch now and looking forward to enjoying the life and the lifestyle of Austin Texas.  Be well. 

Thursday was a tough day.  We were on the brink again, about to fall into the gravity well of time and be sucked into another world.  Like always, there would be no turning back.  It wasn’t only the sailboat and the journy through 10 foot seas to Panama.  The Captain, a middle-aged American with a constant smile, seemed capable enough.  We trusted him, although there was a brief half hour when he was late and we realized how little we knew of him or his intentions and how precarious our situation was.  It wasn’t  only the boat either.  Layla, a 39 foot single mast sailboat, seemed to be in tip-top condition, laiden with sophisticated equipment and safety devices.  As usual, what made it tough was saying good-bye. 

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Life as of late has been very difficult.  After 9 months on the road, 9 months of tortuous travel and constant frustration, we{ve arrived (3 weeks ago) on the beach.  We spent a short week on the beach in Ecuador, the long beaches of the Pacific.  But now, weve made it  to Paradise.  The Caribbean is everything its cracked up to be–white sand beaches, thong bikinis, crystal blue waters, and a plethora of multi-colored fish.

Things are expensive around here so weve been forced to rent a house, a nice 3-becroom apartment only a few minutes walk for the sea.  Its less expensive, but still costs us just over $5 a person per night.

We spent the first week adjusting to being tourists again.  Being a foreigner, we dont have many options..either were tourists or artesanos and were not ready to make that leap just yet.  Although, cool, artesano is not where I want my life to go at the moment.  The mornings are my favorite time here, theres not so many people up (mucha fiesta in Colombia) and I have the beach to myself.  I havent found a better way to wake up than jumping into the warm waters.  The view under the surface is amazing, a crystalline blue world, with a white sand floor.  Its the 2nd best beach Ive ever been to.

And theres load to sea, loads of diving.  Being tourists again, we loosened our wallets and took courses.  I upgraded to Advanced Scuba Diver and Mrs. International became an official Scuba diver.  The diving around here, near National Park Tayrona, is colorful.  There are schools of fish, amazingly detailed creatures that baffle my mind, large sea turtles, peacefully floatings by, and unreal forests of coral.  The best scuba diving Ive ever done.  Were with friends, a French-Quebecois couple that we met in Brighton at the beginning of our relationship.  It{s nice to be a group and to have more people to bounce around.

From here its Cartagena and then possibly a sailboat to Panama…only time will tell.

Now with photos!!

Model

A schematic description of a system, theory, or phenomenon that accounts for its known or inferred properties and may be used for further study of its characteristics.

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C´est un village perdu dans la jungle du Sud de la Colombie, dans les montagnes. Dans cette region se trouvent plein de ruines archeologiques tres anciennes, tout est relatif, anciennes par rapport a ce que l´on connait de l´histoire, de 0 a 6000 av J.C. Comme c´est bizarre notre facon de dater le temps.

Hier nous avons marche toute la journee. On est descendu dans le canyon du fleuve Magdalena, traverse le pont de bois (avec un peu de peur mais je m´habitue si on peut s´habituer aux ponts penches ou carement casses) on a remonte la montagne d´en face, marche un peu plus pour arriver au cimetierre des tombes antiques et des statues sculptees dans la pierre gardiens des defunts. Le tout en passant par plusieurs cascades dont une qui est la plus grande que j´ai jamais vu. Puis la meme chose a l´envers. Heureusement on avait aussi marche les jours passes en guise d´entrainement pour cette rando la. Le panneau disait 6kms, meme les panneaux mentent par ici!!

On voulaient louer une maison pour le mois, c´est possible de louer une cabaña/casita pour l´equivalent de quelque nuits d´hotels, vous voyez l´avantage. Une etait au fond du canyon, accesible ouais merci, les autres sont au prix “gringo”, y auraient-ils des gens qui veulent bien profiter de notre presence et de notre argent? Ok, normal, mais te fache pas si j´te dis non, c´est tout.

Anne et Hugo arrivent dans quelques jours!! Ca, ca fait plaisir, depuis le temps qu´on se demande si ca va arriver ou non. Que bueno! On prends les expressions du coin, c´est drole.

On est au top de la forme et dans le flot. Hasta luego.

The blue house, slowly crumbling, sits on a side of a mountain.  The mountain is 2km outside of the pueblo called Vilcabamba.  The walk from the village takes me across two rivers and always upwards.  Sometimes there are people bathing in the river, or washing their clothes and if there are, I call out one salutation or another to them.  The people in Vilcabamba are very friendly and many of them are overweight.  In the year 2000, Ecuador elected to make U.S. currency their own.  Since then, the economy has flourished–now there are more fat adults and chubby ninos.

After the 2nd bridge, I still have another km until I reach the gates of Tasca and then the steep climb to reach my home.  I pass Las Ruinas de Quinara, a posh hostel, and my 2nd place to stay in Vilcabamba.  A man named Mauricio owns the place and nobody in town likes him.  They use words like asshole, thief, and even rapist to describe him.  I didn´t know this when I stayed there.  My time there was spent half-asleep lounging in the jacuzzi, or the steam room, or in front of the DVD collection, deciding what my next escape would entail.  I met some good friends there; one of them was a giant from Switzerland.

After I pass the hostel, I trudge uphill past the lady who sells home-made ice cream for 25 cents.  She´s got great bread and if we´re in need, I´ll buy some.  We eat a french-styled breakfast–bread, butter, honey or other toppings.  Mrs. International likes banana and chocolate.  I prefer just chocolate.  A few minutes later and I pass Craig´s Book Exchange.  It´s not Craig´s book exchange anymore because Craig is dead.  He died in a mountain-biking accident 5 years ago–some people believe that Mauricio, the owner of las Ruinas, had something to do with it.  3 years ago, Raquel, wife of Craig, remarried another American.  He´s older than she is and lived his life in the US as a free-lance potter.  His life was varied and interesting; he even worked for Jim Henson.  His life was so interesting and he saw so many things, that now he´s not impressed with anything I can say.  Nothing phases him.

This was our 3rd place to live in Vilcabamba.  We stayed in the extra bedroom and ate with teh family every day in exchange for painting a house.  It took us 4.5 days to paint the house.  I think we got a good deal and they did too.  Work exchanges are nice.

I leave the paved street and follow the dirt road.  I pass the sugar cane factor and my nose wrinkles.  Sugar cane has a very sour smell.  The workers pass the cane through a smoosher to extract the juice, then leave the split cane to dry in the sun.  This is a fire hazard.  It´s drier here now and yesterday a mountain went up in flames.  It wasn´t a serious fire because it´s not that dry.  And it was only grass that burned, but still it was still cool to see in the silver-blue light of the waxing moon as we walked home from a friends house.

I´m at the gate now and scrounge around for any scrap of wood I can find.  There´s no functional kitchen in the Casa Azul and we prefer to cook on an open fire than walk the 20m to the communal kitchen.  It feels more primal to work so close with an element, as if we had just discovered how to live simply.  Up the steep steps I go.  When I reach the wooden patio, I´m panting, but not as badly as I would´ve been a month ago, when we first moved in.  Mrs. International is lounging in the hammock, watching the tall eucalyptus trees dance in the breeze.

I plop down into my hammock and gaze out at the mountains.  Our view if 1st rate, but by no means unique.  It seems harder to find a bad view than  good one here in Vilcabamba.  As usual, my gaze turns to the trees.  Eucalyptus trees are amazing–tall and thin, with branches scattered near the top.  The older ones have shed all the bark and are stark white and magical.  Long thin leaves litter the ground and are great to start our fire.  Eventually, my eyes close and I drift into a half-dream where I´m not sure if I´m really living the life I´m living.  Sometimes it seems too great, too easy.

The Andes, this time in Ecuador, surround the village of Vilcabamba, a small town well-known for its long-lived inhabitants. In some reports, none of them official, inhabitants often reach the age of 100, and more than a few ride the Earth around the sun 110 times, 120 times, and a select few ride our Mothership 130 times around the enormous fusion reaction that helps support life on our misshapen rock. For some years, this tiny pueblo, home to 2 Internet cafes has attracted tourists from the Western world. Some come for its unknown fountain of youth, but most have come for the San Pedro, a mescaline-containing cactus that grows throughout the Andes. San Pedro tourism, very similar to the Ayahuasca tourism of Peru, boomed turning the small, peaceful village into a psychedelic freak show. Eventually things got out of hand, tourists walking through the streets in their birthday suits, and the police soon followed. Although its still possible to find San Pedro here, it’s become a black mark upon the community, now associated with silly hippies and their notions of peace, love, and irresponsibility.

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The past month has been a whirlwind of activity, so much in fact that we´ve neglected this awesome site.  This, we hope, will not happen again.  So here´s a summary…

After finding out that our ´shaman´ was taking our money and getting really drunk with it, despite complaining to us again and again about the numerous health problems of his descendents, we decided to look elsewhere for instruction in the OtherWorld.  We met Antonio Vasquez via some really awesome French people (there are some), and traveled the 6 hours upriver to his home.  We stayed there 5 nights and drank Ayahuasca 4 times.  And it was totally different.  Our space was inside a giant mosquito net and it wasn´t just Antonio helping us–it was his entire family.  There were 5 people singing differeng songs, working different magicks on us and it was great.  Difficult, but great.  I saw my life in a different light, one that makes much more sense and has, thus far, allowed me to change some really deep programming.

After the Ayahuasca, we returned to Pucallpa for a few days, for the fiesta de San Juan, a huge jungle festival where everyone eats…Juane, flavored rice cooked in a banana leaf.  I banged on the drum and Peruvians watched, the women with a twinkle in their eye and the men with admiration.  Something was different.

A few days later, Mrs. International and I went our separate ways.  She to the coast, and me to Iquitos, the center for Ayahuasca shamanism in Peru, and maybe all of South America.  When I arrived, I was too tired, too run down to wade through the masses of ´shamans´ to find a shaman, so instead of drinking the medicine, I went and looked at the Amazon (it´s big) and looked at the women of the jungle (they´re hot.)  After a few days, and a growing desire to be with my wife again, I left on a lancha to Yurimaguas, three days downriver.  For 3 days, I swung in a hammock and watched the jungle pass me by (it´s big and hot.)  When I got to Yurimaguas, my plans were altered because of the proletariat´s belief that they could change something with action instead of money.  The entire region was shut down to protest the government´s selling off of the Amazon rainforest to private investors and speculators.  Silly proletariat.

When I finally started moving again, I moved fast and fluid and managed to cross the border into Ecuador and meet my Love again, two weeks to the hour after we left each other, exactly as we had said.  And that´s where we are, in a plush hostel with jacuzzis, saunas, steam rooms, and DVD lounge, regaining our energy and wondering why Ecuador uses the dollar.

More exciting stuff coming soon…