Last night demonstrated the international culture of drinking. For example, jello shooters are international, while booze soaked gummie bears are not. As well, the game of 'Buzz' (using multiples of 7 and numbers with 7) is international. I didn't expect that one.

Anywho, I really gotta run. My bus is leaving soon and I need to eat dinner.

written by  ryanmyers on May 31, 2009 from Cochabamba, Bolivia
from the travel blog: Ryan's First Sabbatical
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It's Monday morning now and I'm in Potosí, the closest "major" city near Uyuni and the world's highest city at 4000 and something meters. The buses usually leave here every day at 11 for Uyuni, but there's an agrarian strike. The one company that is still running that route failed to mention the strike and the danger factor of trying to reroute a blockade. I'm a little hesitant to go with them.

I'm not sure what I'm gonna do - wait it out or head south for something else. Wish me luck!!

written by  ryanmyers on June 1, 2009 from Potosi, Bolivia
from the travel blog: Ryan's First Sabbatical
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It's your son, Ryan, here. I'm in Tupiza, Bolivia, which is about 4 hours from the border with Argentina. I was hoping to sneak in a trip to the salt flats between Cochabamba and Buenos Aires, but it's not possible.

Upon arriving in Potosí I found out that there is a blockade between there and Uyuni, thus preventing me from entering the salt flats. Having lost some time I couldn't squeeze in a trip to the salt flats, so I grabbed a hostel in Potosí. At 4000 and some odd meters there the nights get fairly cold, so I was happy to find the hostel had a heater in the room and gas powered showers! Woot woot! Literally the best shower I've had in over 2 months.

With a day to kill in Potosí I went on a tour of a mine. You gotta note, it's NOT an abandoned mine. In fact, there were workers working during the tour. They were replacing a brace that was colapsing. The tour was surprisingly interesting for a mine. Our guide was a former worker who started at age 12 as a gopher for his dad. He took us through tunnels smaller enough that you had to crawl on all fours and showed us El Tio. Apparently outside the mine, the miners worship God normally, but inside the mine they worship El Tio (a.k.a. the devil). I can see why - it's hot, mucky, dangerous and the work sucks. It certainly feels like hell. I guess if you go on a Sunday you can see them sacrifice a llama at the entrance. You'd think it's a joke until you see the blood all over the mine entrance.

After leaving the hell hole we we lit some dynomite, took some pictures with it lit and then nervously waited to watch them blow. Good times, good times.

Alrighty, I'm off to write a few more emails before grabbing an empanada and some sleep. I'm exhausted after last night and the ensuing bus ride. Last night I hung out with 3 English dudes - one of whom turned 40, 2 Yankees, 1 Irish dude, an Italian guy who can't cook pasta, a French guy, 2 girls from Barcelona and a Dutch named Has. It was somewhat of a birthday celebration, so I had some drinks against my best intrest knowing I had to catch a bus at 7am. Well worth it though, as it was an interesting mix of people - everyone having incredibly different personalities. I spent most of the night chatting between Spanish and English with the non-English natives. It was a real sign that my Spanish has come a long way. Heh heh, I think I'm ready for Argentina's differnent take on the language.

written by  ryanmyers on June 2, 2009 from Tupiza, Bolivia
from the travel blog: Ryan's First Sabbatical
tagged Mine
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Tupiza is a country town. They play country music, have rodeos and live in cactus country. Hence, I was pretty stoked to be going on a 2-day horseback trek. I signed up with Elissa, an Aussie that also wanted to see the salt flats, but had to change plans cause she couldn’t wait for the blockades to subdue. The tour company asked us our experience, which is little for the both of us (although Elissa took riding classes when she was younger than she can remember). I guess they have docile, medium and crazy horses – we got medium based on our previous experience.

On the first day we were given vinyl chaps that were actually vinyl flooring with velcroe, but did the trick just fine. I was wearing my new plaid shirt from Cochabamba's second hand market along with my beard and cowboy curls. Even the "chaps" made my hiking boots look somewhat like cowboys boots. I looked the part. And by 'part' I mean awesome!

Anywho, we left town for a rainbow scape of mountains - white salt-licked mountians, contrasted by rich red soiled mountains, alongside grey mountains peppered with cactuses. The natural high of the experience was amplified when Franz, our guide, booked it galloping. Not to be outdone, my horse took-off without command and we were racing a creek through a valley towards insane rock formations - where we stopped for a break. The rush certainly made my camera smacking my arm not seem so bad at the time.

Later, on our way to lunch, Oscuro (literally "Black" - the name of my horse) took off running again. At this point my back pack unzipped from the consistant up and down. Thankfully, Franz recovered my t-shirt. During lunch I realised my snacks fell out too. Oh well.

We had lunch under the shade of some huge trees beside a fast-flowing river. Lunch was delivered via motorcycle and I'm not sorry to say it was late. It gave me a chance to refill my filter-water bottle. That was a real bonus cause I lost that earlier and received a replacement in Cochabamba. Thanks Mom!! ...I also had the chance to take a nap in the shade. Although, I couldn't seem to get comfortable. It felt like there was always a rock under my butt. Once I was back on Oscuro I realised the bouncing up and down was the cause.

During our final stretch Oscuro was antsy. That ...horse didn't want to walk - only trott or gallop. Franz figured he was impatient and wanted to get to food, water and shade. What that meant for me was more ass-slapping fun. I gotta admit though, he sure was exciting when he got going fast. The odd time there'd be a dip or hole and he'd jump over. I'm still not sure if I was ever in control. He'd listen to faster, but fought me like hell when I wanted him to slow down. Once again, some stuff fell out of my bag. This time Franz brought me back my back my toilet paper. That evening I figured out that my precious water bottle also took flight! Ah well, what can you do.

I was a little disappointed that we didn't get to camp, but that desire was gone got to our hostel. It was rustic. Found in a beige village of adobe houses, this place had two floors - one with nothing but beds and the other with a kitchen and a table. While waiting for dinner I played the neighbour's boy at UNO. That kid cheats, so it was fun to beat him. hehe

After dinner, Elissa, Franz, the nice lady who cooked our meal and I played UNO over a few beers. At one point I felt the back of my pants, which was wet. I didn't remember having a wet fart, but was scared I shat my pants. I played out the games and beers, planning on checking the situation before I went to bed.

Upon inspection I was releaved to find bowel-control was not the issue!! Instead, riding Oscuro had chafed my butt, leaving me with a red rorchach nicely folded together. The chafe had been weeping and even bled a little, leaving my pants now crusty. Yeah, it's disgusting, but imagine how my butt felt!!

Elissa and I had a good laugh while falling asleep over how awkward it'll be to explain to Franz. In reality, it's surprisingly not. He just laughed.

Getting on the horse this morning was hell. And Oscuro's angst hadn't left either. When Elissa's horse would walk, mine would trot at the same speed. He helped the saddle slap my chafed ass all day. The only time both Oscuro and I were happy was when he was galloping. I could stand up on the styrups and he could sprint - sometimes off the path and a few minutes outta the way. hehe, and about an hour after I left the hostel I realized my bracelet that Flor had made me fell off during the night. That sucks cause it was a cool bracelet.

Finally we got back to the hostel. The first thing I did was wash my pants and undees. My pants look surprisingly well, but my undees look like I wasn't prepared for that time of month. I hope they dry fast, as I have a bus to catch at 4am. I can't see how I look walking now, but I imagine I look like I spent the night in prison - walking no faster than my 94 year old grandpa. To top it off, my pants are wet, so I have longjohns underneath shorts. To compensate, I have about 5 layers of shirts to keep warm. I look rediculous. Elissa thinks I look like a man wearing everything I own.

I also found out that my toothbrush, toothpaste and floss flew out of my bag during the trip. Karma is either kicking my ass for something I did or I have real good luck coming my way!!

written by  ryanmyers on June 4, 2009 from Tupiza, Bolivia
from the travel blog: Ryan's First Sabbatical
tagged Horseride
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My sorry lil' butt is happy to say that Argentina's legendary buses lived up to their reputation. No told me this before, but Alberta and Saskatchewan have relocated to northern Argentina. Looking out the window of my bus I couldn't believe my eyes! There was the Canadian prairies, neatly divided into square fields with quaint country homes. We left behind sidewinding dirt roads in Bolivia for smooth straight roads, accompanied by telephone poles looking over barbed wire fences. What's more, the highways had passenger vehicles and old men driving giant farm machinery - both rarities in Peru and Bolivia! And there was ranch after ranch of Oreo cows.

Funny enough, I met several Peruvians on the bus. In fact, the person sitting next to me was 5 year old Carmena who couldn't stop talking. She told me I had caca in my pants - what a cutie! I also met a guy from Huancayo who recognized me from the carnival.

Anywho, last night and tonight I'm sleeping in an old colonial hotel in a part of town that was once for the rich elite, then for poor imigrants, then for poor artists and now for tourists. Today there's an antique market in the plaza outside my door and for anyone who likes old rock, you'd seizure in joy here! I held so many authentic classics, like The Beatles's "White Album", Pink Floyd's "The Wall" and Paul Simon's "Graceland". What a treat! And while I was sifting through the treasure there was live flaminco playing with tango dancers entertaining the masses outside cafés with GOOD COFFEE! The icing on the cake is the people watching. Old men in leather jackets and scarves, cross dressers and some of the most beautiful women in the world.

While meandering around the market I had many conversations with the venders - extremely friendly! Before I knew it 6 hours had passed, so I'm a little hungry now. Apparently one man said it's so safe here that he leaves his store unlocked. One morning he came in to find money on his counter and a note of what the person bought. That evening he left the change on the counter. ...alrighty, I gotta run and grab some eats. Chau!

written by  ryanmyers on June 7, 2009 from Buenos Aires, Argentina
from the travel blog: Ryan's First Sabbatical
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We spent the first week in Buenos Aires, where we were taught how to make mate and were introduced to the pleasures of Argentinean life (dulce de leche, alfajores, mate, coffee, facturas (aka pastries), chocolate, pasta, steak, beer and both wine and beef that is sinfully delicious and ridiculously cheap. And that's not mentioning the world's best ice-cream. I never felt so emotionally satisfied while eating as I did then. Right after my last bite (of a 1/4 kg tub all to myself) the euphoria left me feeling a little saddened and wondering when I'd get my next scoop. I'm telling ya, it was so good that Jordan brought it back to impress a girl. No jokes. He sealed it up and put it on his luggage under the plane. Like I said, the world's best ice-cream.

The second part of my time with Julio, Noemi and Jordan was in Neuquen - an oil city inbetween BA and the mountains. There we saw Julio rock the casbah playing piano and singing with his band at church. You bet Jordan and I were dancing up front too! Over the two weeks we got to know some of the younger crowd and went bowling with them and danced late into the night at the church.

Jordan and I were keen on snowboarding, so we went to Bariloche. It's like Banff, but in Argentina. And it's famous for killer chocolate. Their Johnny Walker chocolate is essentially a quater ounce of booze encapselled in chocolate. We pulled into town at 5am and took a few hours to find a hostel that wouldn't charge us an extra night to sleep for a few hours in the morning. In the main plaza there was a huge stage set up to celebrate the Festival of Snow. Kinda lame though cause there wasn't even a flake (of snow) in town. Which was an extra bummer cause the snowboarding trip turned into your typical "lie your way backstage as magazine photographers and then dress up as missle toe and crash another hostel's Christmas party which turned out to be a sausage party". Sheesh! Although, after all was said and done, I honestly had a great time in great company.

We also took an earlier trip up north to see Iguazú Falls and hopefully hitchike our way back through Uruguay. That was a bust too. Jordan thinks I'm bad luck. I think it was destiny cause our failed attempt led to the best bus ride of my life - in luxurious seats, with plenty of wine, pillow fights and the occasional mooning of oncoming traffic. Yeah, we really bring out the best in each other! ;)

Jordan is gone and I'm back in Buenos Aires. I'm trying to get a job teaching English for a month here, but haven't heard back from the boss lady yet. Really, I just wanna know if it'll pay enough for me not to finish the month with less than I started with. Otherwise I'm better off continuing on towards Chile. If I don't hear from her tomorrow then I'll prolly skip town the following day.

I can't lie here, my Canada Day was fairly lame. I slept in and hung out in the hostel with the other tenents. They really are more like tenents. Bohemian tenents. All of them are from either Chile, Colombia and Argentina and all are artists. ...so it probably goes without saying, but all don't have jobs either. Except the Colombian hairdresser who's selling dope until he finds a salon to work in legitimately. Then his wife can join him here. After playing darts and exchanging music in the lobby I took off to buy some groceries, then ate my sandwiches and drank my beer (yes, the beer was my part to celebrate Canada Day, as well as wearing my Trade Mulroney t-shirt) while watching Shaft with a Colombian rastafarian. I finished off the day reading "Hey Nostradomas!" (a book I got from Jordan) before bed. Definately not the most exciting Canada Day, so I felt a little inspired to do something more today.

And I did. I got up late again, but this time went for a walk in the city's ecological park. hehe, but not before grabbing a choripan outside the park. Choripan is a fat delicious chorizo sausage in a bun and this particular establishment has more condiments than you figured existed. Anywho, BA has a large chunk land near a ritzy neighbourhood that's officially a protected area for birds and unofficially for the odd stray dog too. Which, by the way, I need to tell you that Argentina has the world's best fed stray dogs. They eat beef scraps and have the fat rolls to show it! My walk through the park was nice and the sun helped soften the cold of Buenos Aires winter, which is more like Edmontonian fall. I left the path to sit on some rocks and listen to the waves crash in. I was looking for some solace, which I think I found. I started to think that being alone is no problem. Being lonely is what sucks. Not that I'm never lonely, but down at the waterfront I was alone, not lonely. ...later on walking past couples making out made me feel lonely. Or something else altogether.

Looking out at the sea the sailboats and tugboats were dwarfed by the humungous cargo ships. I lucked out in choosing the centre of the park to relax cause the crashing waves were drowned in the north and south of the park by the sound of industry. It's no wonder the park is located by the waterfront - otherwise the city would have to look at rusting steel sail away and disappear before the horizon into the brown smog. Plus, trees help counter pollution.

Alrighty, time to hit the grocery stores and make me some dinner! I hope everyone had a great Canada Day!

written by  ryanmyers on July 2, 2009 from Buenos Aires, Argentina
from the travel blog: Ryan's First Sabbatical
tagged Bariloche, Neuquen and EcologicalPark
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The nice person at this hostel is Valeria, a fashion designer from a city north of here. She's trying to sell some of her designs and then wants to travel Europe. She showed me an reversable vest she made - not my style, but pretty cool. Today she told me about a Salvadore Dali expo downtown, so I'm heading there and then will prolly buy a ticket outta BA. It doesn't look like I'll be getting the English job here. I'm gonna call the big-boss-lady one last time to see what's up. No biggie though. My finances are a little better than I thought: budget traveller poor, not beggar poor.

You got a good idea, Gary, I should start painting you naked. Or at least drawing you naked. I can't really paint, but I sure as hell can draw. Maybe I'll start doing that and then once I get a collection I'll start selling to other travellers. It'll probably create an influx of Edmonton bound travellers.

Right now I'm reading a butt load. Jordan left me "Hey Nostradomas!" and I've plowed through it in 3 days. That's the equivalent accomplishment as Steven Hawking running a mile in 8 minutes. I haven't figured out exactly what this means. Either I'm bored and should change something or I should keep reading as normally I'm pretty lazy in that department. And before that I read "The 5 Love Languages". Hands down I speak Quality Time.

written by  ryanmyers on July 3, 2009 from Buenos Aires, Argentina, Argentina
from the travel blog: Ryan's First Sabbatical
tagged MakingFriends
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After the house I went to the park along the river, which is kinda different from Edmonton cause Rio Paradarara.... (aka. I can't remember it's real name) is much much much wider and there's no city on the other side. It kinda makes you feel like you're at the end of the world, but can see a completely different one over yonder. heh heh, I should use "over yonder" more often.

Once I snapped a few pics (which I've been fairly lazy about lately - maybe a lack of inspiration, I dunno), I followed the park looking for the monument of the flag - a giant obalisk. Argentina's flag was invented in Rosario. Remember that a U of A grad invented the Canadian flag? I do.

Along the park I saw some dude reading a paper by a banged up guitar, so I mustered up the balls to ask him if I could snap a picture of him. Normally I walk past wishing I woulda asked the dude for a picture, but something about this guy seemed inviting. He was actually fairly cool about it, too. His name's Marcelo and first off he played me a song while I snapped some photos and then we started chatting. He tells me he plays guitar on the city buses at night for a living. Despite being a borderline bum and occasionally sleeping on the streets, he seems fairly well educated. Later he told me he is an avid reader, which may be the key. Either way, his wife is a nurse, so I'm assuming most of their income is derived from her side.

We chatted about life, love, street life, politics and religion before his buddy showed up, who is a real homeless guy. He said the world is his home. I told him he's got a beautiful home. I'm pretty sure the second guy was drunk cause he slurred a lot of his words and staggared when he walked. He also brought with him a cheap bottle of wine and kissed Marcelo a lot while telling him how good of a guy he is. heh heh, text book case if you ask me. Anywho, the three of us enjoyed each others company for another hour or so in the park over a bottle of wine. These types of moments remind me why I'm here.

Tonight I'm heading out to a salsa night at rock pub with three French guys who all love to sing in the shower.

written by  ryanmyers on July 8, 2009 from Rosario, Argentina
from the travel blog: Ryan's First Sabbatical
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