Holy Cow Batman... it's Penguins!

Isla Magdalena, Chile

February 22, 2007

Magellan Straight
S 53°01.513
W 070°43.233

Isla Magdalena
S 52°55.133
W 070°34.534

We arrived at Terminal Tres Puentes with plenty of time to spare before our departure on the Melinka, the ferry that would transport us to Isla Magdalena. Both of us were very excited to see penguins in the wild.

Under scattered clouds and temperatures in the mid 40’s, the Melinka dropped her landing ramp at about 3:50pm. By 4pm, 75-80 other penguin fans were on board, the ramp pulled up and we were on our way. We spent the first few minutes sitting inside the cabin of the ferry, due to the brisk winds outside, but we could see we were missing out on incredible sites as the Melinka began heading north-east across the Straight of Magellan. We put on one more layer of clothing and headed to the starboard side overlooking the beautiful Straight. The clouds parted and the intense southern sun balanced out the wind-chill on the deck.

We looked east, with the sun at our backs, and scanned the icy waters for signs of life. As we looked towards the wake of the ferry we saw dolphin like creatures intermittently jumping from the water for a breath of fresh air. They went back down as quickly as they came up, but they continued to play in the wake of the ferry which was chugging along at 8-10 knots (approx. 10 mph). The dolphins had black and white markings similar to a Killer Whale. However, we knew they were much too small to be Killer Whales, even though we were very close to their breeding grounds. We discovered the “mini-me” to the Killer Whale to be a Commerson´s Dolphin and one of their favorite activities is to play in small groups around the sides of boats. Lucky us!

As we continued north we lost sight of the dolphins, since they probably aren’t supposed to play out of their neighborhood, but quickly started seeing small pods (or flocks) of penguins—the reason for our journey today.

We could see Isla Magdalena in the distance, gradually getting closer and closer, we were anxious to get on the island to experience the penguins. As we approached within a 1000 meters we could clearly see the island’s lighthouse. Below the lighthouse were several little specs that looked like small rocks, or maybe PENGUINS.

When we unloaded from the Melinka, we were advised we had one hour to explore; an island where humans are clearly the visitors. As we stepped off the ferry, all you could see were thousands of penguins scattered across the island and we were clearly intruding on their space. The Magellanic Penguin, also known as the jackass penguin, because of the loud guttural noise it makes; similar to a donkey’s “hee-haw.” The penguins stick their beaks straight up into the air and open their mouths wide when making this noise. We heard the braying scream all around the island as the intruders made their way from the ferry up the path to the lighthouse.

There are over 60,000 breeding pairs occupying Isla Magdalena which is a National Park and completely dedicated to the penguins, including a lighthouse... which I´m not quite sure how they operate. Each “set” of penguins has a place they call home, a little borough. The males stand guard, very astute, in front ready to dive in if any humans come to close. It isn’t difficult to figure out who is king on this island and we did our best not to get close to the sharp beaks—neither one of us was in the mood for stitches.

On the two hour journey back to Punta Arenas we reflected on our experience. We decided it was very worthwhile and definitely a highlight of our trip. We are also pleased the Government of Chile limits the visits to the penguins to three days per week, one hour at a time. We hope the limitation keeps the penguins happy and breeding for generations to come.

On to Torres del Paine…

A Day of Chores and Angels...

Punta Arenas, Chile

February 21, 2007
S 53°09.763
W 070°54.475

Just because we’re on “vacation” doesn’t mean we don’t have chores to do everyday… today was a long list. The majority of the tasks were things to prepare us for our hike through Torres del Paine. We had to go shopping for our provisions (rice, pasta, soup, ramen, more rice, more pasta…), white-gas for our camp stove, and a bus ticket to get Puerto Natales; the jump-off point before heading into Torres del Paine. Everyone says shop in Punta Arenas—it’s cheaper—as is Modesto vs. Curry Village when heading to Yosemite National Park.

We also secured tickets for the Penguin Tour that visits Isla Magdalena via a ferry across the Straight of Magellan. The tour is supposed to provide us with an up close and personal view of nearly 64,000 breeding pairs. We’re excited, this will most likely be the only time we will ever see penguins outside of a zoo in our lifetime.

We didn’t spend the entire day doing chores; we found time to head to the local cemetery, Cemeterio Municipal. Cemeteries aren’t the most pleasant places, of course, but this one had a lot to offer. The various family plots are morphed into a shrine for the dead. Each plot is different, but most had a place for families to place flowers, pictures, and other sentimental ornaments as a shrine for their loved ones. Many plots have very intricate headstones or complete tombs made of white marble, depending on the wealth of the family. The names on the various headstones date back to the mid 1800’s to early 1900’s outlining descendents from all over the world including Germany, Scandinavia, Spain and Yugoslavia. It makes you wonder what each individual was doing here. Were they Explorers? Escaping the war in Europe? Criminals? No matter… they must have been tuff SOB’s to survive the winters (let alone summers) in Punta Arenas without modern day technology.

On a side note… Marc experienced several very rare camera malfunctions in the cemetery. He was unable to zoom or use the auto-focus on several occasions and once the camera actually started recording without even being in “record mode.” Each time a malfunction occurred he had to power-cycle (off and on) the camera to restore normal functionality. Coincidence? Or maybe some of these tuff SOB’s were goofing on a Gringo.

Au de Sardine...

Punta Arenas, Chile

February 20, 2007
S 53°09.763
W 070°54.475

I think we were both ready to exit Puerto Montt after four nights. The food pretty much sucked (except for the Curanto), the streets were a little sketchy after dark, and in the town itself there really wasn’t much to see. We did make the trip to Castro, making the stop worth it.

After landing in Punta Arenas we headed straight to baggage claim. We waited for our packs, and waited, and waited some more. We started to panic a little bit… we did arrive VERY early to the airport and several flights departed to Santiago while we were waiting so we thought, “Oh great, our luggage is in Santiago.” I began to do a mental inventory of what we absolutely needed in our packs for the night and just then a second cart of bags rolled up the tarmac and we saw both of the packs. Whew!

After a few minutes our bags were finally loaded onto the conveyer belt. Marc grabbed mine first and then reached for his. “Oh shit!” he exclaimed, “My strap is totally soaked.” He put his wet hand up to his nose to see if there was any foul odor. Sure enough there was a strong, fishy smell as if a whole dead fish was now on his right shoulder strap. He slung the dry, left strap, over his shoulder and lugged it out of the terminal. We found a bus to Punta Arenas and Marc graciously tossed his pack up to the bus porter; who seemingly didn’t notice the smell of rotting fish.

As we drove to Punta Arenas from the airport Marc figured out the best way to carry his pack with the least impact on his clothes. He opted to remove his fleece, put his rain jacket on; figuring the rain coat can easily be washed out (he hoped).

Of course we didn’t have reservations (what fun would that be), so we walked around for about an hour hunting for accommodations. Marc still reeking of fish, and surprisingly not gathering a parade of cats, we finally found a place after our fourth attempt (I guess three isn’t always a charm). When Marc finally took off his pack, there was a nice oil-slick, or should I say fish oil-slick on his jacket.

It took a lot of Purell, soap and hot-water, but he thinks he defunked his jacket and his pack. Thank goodness…the last thing you want right next to your nose on a ten day hike is the smell of rotten fish. Or, who knows…maybe it would act like perfume (Au de Sardine) compared to our funky clothes at the end of the trek. Too bad we’ll never know.

Back to the 80´s...

Puerto Montt, Chile

February 19, 2007
S 41°28.372
W 072°56.750

“Festival Phenominal!” the headline in the morning papers claimed. We jumped on a packed bus leaving Castro around 9:45 AM; as were many other festival goers. Everyone was still a little giddy from the excitement the festival brought to the town.

When we returned to Puerto Montt around 2:00 PM, the sun was shining, so we decided to go on a “cruise” to a local island about 300 meters across the bay. We paid our 400 pesos and jumped on board a wooden rowboat with about 25 other people. I guess I shouldn’t call it a rowboat. Yes, there were oars, but there was also a little motor that puttered the boat across the bay. There were few rules on-board—smoking, no problem—however, everyone on board had to wear a life jacket. We probably wouldn’t have gone on a long trip in this type of rig, but we thought if this thing sinks we are close enough to swim for it. A picture of our skipper is to the left.

When we got to the little island, we realized why everyone was flocking there. It was at least 10 degrees warmer than the main-land on Puerto Montt. The little cove blocked the wind allowing people to sunbath, and for a few brave souls, swim. There wasn’t much else to do on the island except for warm up—I guess that made the trip worth it.

After we returned from the island, we headed to a little Cerveceria we noticed on our walk earlier in the day. We grabbed a little table in the non-smoking section (this was a first!) right under a couple of TVs. It took us a few minutes to realize the TVs were playing 15 second snippets of American Pop-Rock 80’s videos. Yes, that is correct, music videos from the 80s. Imagine… fifteen seconds of “Maneater”, “99 Red Luft Balloons”, “Footloose”, “Walk Like an Egyptian”, “Rock n-Roll All Night”, “Karma Chameleon”, “Summer of 69” and the list went on and on and on. We choked down another jamon y queso (ham and cheese) sandwich while being tortured by the 15 second clips. This went on for the first 20 minutes until we were “rescued” by full length videos from the 80’s.

Of course, we quietly sang along to The Boss, Blondie, Hall & Oates, Rick Springfield and others, while playing “What does this song remind you of?” It made us think of old friends, high school (junior high or grade school for Laura) and of course home. We hung out until Devo finished “Whip It” (whip it good). Overall, not a bad evening… and the beers were good.

It´s always fun to spend time in Castro...

Castro, Chile

February 18, 2007
S 42°28.909
W 073°45.739

We got up early to catch a bus to Castro, Chile. Castro, on the Island of Chiloe, is about 3 hours south of Puerto Montt. The three hour bus ride includes a 30 minute trip by ferry across the Canal de Chacao. The Chilean government took bids to build a bridge across this natural water-way in 2001, but construction has yet to start—I guess the Bay Bridge is one step ahead. As the ferry slowly carried our bus and others across the frigid waters we actually captured our first glimpse of a couple penguins. They poked their heads out of the water seemingly unfazed as the ferry crossed through their backyard.

We arrived in Castro, a sleepy little fishing town, at about 11 AM. The weather outside was noticeably cooler than in Puerto Montt and the skies were pretty gray, similar to a summer day in San Francisco, or more specifically, the Northern California coast. Reluctantly we’re now wearing our long pants and have traded our Tevas for our boots. Our “cold weather gear” seemed so unnecessary in Montanita, but now we’re glad we have it. The weather gave us an indication of what is yet to come in Punta Arenas, and the further south we go…brrr!

By 12:15 PM we had pretty much walked the entirety of the town. We started to make our way back towards the center of the town when we saw a sign in a storefront window announcing a Folklore Festival in the Park. We figured we had a few hours to kill and decided a Folklore Festival may be exactly what we need.

As we began meandering towards the park we noticed there were now several more people milling about the town than when we first arrived, and many of them were carrying backpacks obviously looking for a place to stay. It seems the Castro Folklore Festival is a big event and we quickly decided to find our place to stay before going to the park. We found a nice little Hospedaje with a panoramic view of Castro’s waterfront, tossed our day pack in the room, and headed back outside to get us some Folklore.

There were now several buses, with Al Parque-Folklore painted on their windows, swirling through the streets, honking their horns and picking up nearly anyone that was willing to go for a ride to “Al Parque.” We figured we already had enough bus time for the day and could easily hike the 3 miles to Al Parque; plus we weren’t in any hurry. After about two miles of walking towards our quest for folklore, the buses that were frantically swirling the streets and passing us as we walked along the road were now at a dead stop. The traffic appeared to be backed up at least a mile leading to the park.

We continued our climb to the park, still unsure of what may be at the other end, and the people around us kept multiplying. At first 30 or 40, as we got closer it turned into 100 and with 800 meters to go we could now see several hundred people all marching towards Al Parque. I turned to Marc and said, “this is like a pilgrimage.” Except we were not going to Mecca, we didn’t really know where we going. We knew one thing for sure…it would be a great story.

All cars and buses were now at a dead stop. We looked over at the bus windows nearly opaque from condensation and the poor people all trapped thinking they had a quick ticket to the Folklore Festival. We were very happy we opted to walk at this point. As we made our way up the final 100 meters along a dirt road a huge Caterpillar was bulldozing to allow for more traffic; yet headed straight towards the traffic. What the heck? Who thought it was a good idea to do this today?

We finally got to the ticket booth around 3:30 PM, paid our 600 Chilean Pesos each, and headed into the madness. As we walked in, we weren’t really sure what to expect. I said to Marc, “is this like the Castro Street Faire? Probably not since there are a lot of little kids.” Marc thought it would be more like a County Faire without the rides and rednecks.

The festival ended up being a nice family affair with everyone drinking some kind of fermented apple wine, plenty of food booths set-up selling meat on metal skewers, empanadas, even Curanto in to-go bags. Of course there were demonstrations such as: milling hay, building a fishing boat, fermenting apples for wine, and even a small rodeo. There were different stages set up around the park with live entertainment and locals dancing. Yup, all good ol’ Folklore.

We strolled around Al Parque for a little over an hour, sitting down on occasion to catch a live act. It was shortly after 5 PM, it looked like the rain would start any time, so we called it a day. We headed toward the exit (which was also the entrance) and found hundreds of people, who had not yet had an opportunity to partake in the fun, still pressing forward. We walked down the dirt road we came up, the line of cars still stretched out for at least a mile… good luck amigos!

First Sick Day...

Puerto Montt, Chile

February 17, 2007
S 41°28.372
W 072°56.750

Today was probably the toughest day to date on our trip. Not because we did something physically demanding, mentally challenging, or encountered a major logistical glitch, but instead we had our first sick day. We both caught colds on one of the buses, planes, metros, or possibly the hot weather outside and cool weather inside… it doesn’t matter, we’re sick. It took a great deal of convincing for me to succumb to Marc’s request to take it easy for a day. With the Torres del Paine circuit in Patagonia looming less than a week away, we didn’t want to jeopardize what we know will be a demanding 8-10 day trek. We figured a day of limited activity and rest was the best cure.

The day was difficult because I don’t like staying indoors all day at home, let alone in some strange place. All I could think about was a piping hot bowl of pho gai from our local Vietnamese restaurant, or maybe a bowl of chicken wonton soup from U-Lee, that I know would clear my nasal passages.

Finding a bowl of good ol’ chicken soup in Puerto Montt seemed almost impossible; fish soup on the other hand, can be found without a problem. We sat down in at least three restaurants, received menus, reviewed the menus, and left shortly thereafter—no soup in any of them! Plus, with my nose running like a faucet and my throat slightly burning, the last thing I wanted to do was spend 30 to 45 minutes “enjoying” the second-hand-smoke from the many nicotine addicted diners during our meal. After playing musical restaurants for about an hour we finally found one with chicken soup on the menu—they even had it. (Long story, but there have been several instances where we order something on the menu and they don’t have it “that day”.) The soup helped with the congestion, but still didn’t compare to my San Francisco favorites.

It’s days like this that make me weak and long for home. The desire to be close to things that are familiar—like our bed, comfort food and cherry Nyquil—challenge my mental ability to be gone for one year.

After a forced day in bed (yes, Marc forced me) I will probably wake up with a clear head and exited about our next adventure…a little overnight trip to the Island of Chiloe.

We´re headed south...

Puerto Montt, Chile

February 16, 2007
S 41°28.372
W 072°56.750

We traveled from Santiago to Puerto Montt today after an all day bus ride from Mendoza to Santiago yesterday. Today’s travel was pretty easy, a 1 ½ hour flight followed by a 15 minute bus ride into town compared to seven hours on the bus from Mendoza.

Still, back-to-back travel days take it out of us… imagine hauling two 40 lb. backpacks and a 20 lb. daypack from your hotel, onto the metro, into the airport, from the airport and back onto the bus, out of the bus terminal, and then thru the streets of a city (with no street signs) you have never visited, all in a quest for a hotel that may or may not have a vacancy when you arrive.

Anyway… the best part about today’s flight was the descent. I peered out the window by chance and saw a sea of cotton white clouds. As I looked closer, I saw snow capped peaks poking through the clouds, completely blending into the scenery like chameleons. The scene was absolutely stunning. As we continued our descent, we approached a large, bright blue body of water surrounded by several snow capped peaks; it appeared to be a picture post-card, but it wasn’t a picture… it was real.

After landing in Puerto Montt, we took a very easy bus trip into the city. As we headed towards town along a very narrow two lane road we would occasionally pass farmers driving their horse or oxen bound trailers doing their best to avoid traffic. We made a few turns and then had a straight shot downhill into the town. On the downhill, we had panoramic views of the town of Puerto Montt and the port with the mountains in the background.

After exiting the bus station we took a short hike (800 meters) through the city and found a place to stay; Residencial La Nave, a hotel and restaurant all in one. After a few confusing minutes of discussing Pesos per night ($22 USD) with the woman who seemed to be in charge, we dumped our gear in our room and decided to get some lunch.

We made our way back downstairs through the restaurant (which was now full of locals) and saw several people with large caldrons on their tables filled with seafood. We decided we needed to go no further and to have lunch right there. The caldrons were full of a Puerto Montt’s local specialty, Curanto.

The restaurant, a very simple place (like our hotel room) had square tables and wooden chairs. It appeared the majority of locals were ordering the Curanto—we had to try it! We decided to share one caldron since the bowl was massive. Our waitress brought us all the essentials for eating Curanto—a plate, spoon, knife, fork, bowl to place the discarded shells, bread, and a plate of lemons. After a few moments our very own caldron arrived.

The overflowing bowl had at least a dozen muscles, half a dozen clams, potato, sausage, pork belly, chicken, and a couple different dumpling type things, one with chunks of pork. The bottom of the caldron contained a piping hot tasty broth which was also served on the side in a cup and saucer.

The entire spread was somewhat overwhelming; we weren’t quite sure how to attack this meal. After sneaking quick glances, left and right, to see how the locals eat their Curanto, we determined you cut off a piece of meat or dumpling, put it on your spoon and dunk it into the broth in the cup and saucer. It also seemed important to squeeze the lemons over the entire cauldron, and dip the bread into some of the broth—at least that is how we did it!

Half the fun of traveling is trying new things, I am glad we tried the Curanto!

Our place was only $22.00 a night and of course all the toilet paper we could use right outside our door ;-)

Valentine’s Day in Mendoza...

February 14, 2007
Valentine’s Day

Mendoza, Argentina
S 32°53.353
W 068°50.862

We started Valentine’s Day out the same way we start every day…with a cup of coffee. We found a little café with tables situated under the shade of several sycamore trees outside on the pedestrian mall along Avenue de Sarmiento. Valentine’s Day appeared to be just as big of a commercial holiday in Argentina as it is at home. As we sat in the shade enjoying our café con leche we watched both men and women frantically rushing around to pick up last minute gifts for their loved ones, florists delivering roses, and young ladies walking around with the flowers they already received.

Since Marc and I left our wedding bands at home, we decided in the spirit of V-Day it would be fun to look for little bands to replace our wedding rings while we travel. I actually thought it would be a really good idea after a little “situation” in Valparaiso. As we were sitting outside at a café a Chilean man (mid-fifties and not nearly as good looking as he probably believed) sat down at our table and talked to us, or should I say me. It was almost as if Marc didn’t exist at the table. The guy provided us (me) with excellent information about the sites and some local restaurants, he even provided us (me) with his card and personal cell phone number. He was probably just being friendly, but there was definitely a vibe that I detected and Marc enjoyed immensely. I hoped getting rings would help us (me) avoid situations like this in the future.

After visiting a few stores surrounding the square, we headed to the craft show at the Plaza de Independencia where we found two very simple rings to wear for the remainder of our trip. After we put the rings on each other, we headed to a cute little wine bar to sample more of the local vino and finally caved-in and had our first (and probably not last) helping of ice-cream.

What a great way to spend Valentine’s Day!

Observations about South America

February 13, 2007

• Dinner starts after 10 pm, even on “school” nights.


• It’s normal to see toddlers out running around at midnight.


• The mullet is in…big time! The most popular mullet style is the dread-lock mullet. Business in front… smoke a bowl in the back. Pictures will hopefully be forthcoming and posted to www.mulletsgalore.com


• It is normal to see young boys, three years of age, “training” their mullet; obviously with the consent of their guardian.


• The steak and wine are fabulous in Argentina even if you aren’t a big red meat eater.


• When walking through a park, you are likely to find at least one, usually more, young couples making out on a bench, on the grass or in the shade of a tree.


• Everyone loves their ice cream. There are more places to buy ice cream than to buy coffee.


• After grabbing an ice cream at the heladeria it’s not uncommon to light up a cigarette or two or three… shit, why not just smoke the whole g’damn pack.


• We have not seen a single Starbucks! Whew!


• Stop signs do not mean stop; more like pause and punch it!


• It isn’t unusual to see a new mother walking down the street breast feeding—talk about multi-tasking.


• The stray dogs have a very good demeanor. They aren’t threatening at all even when approaching packs of them.

For the love of BEEF...

February 13, 2007

A special shout-out goes to Torrey Murphy who helped us figure out how to create links to all of our GPS coordinates. Tmurph is da’ man!

Mendoza, Argentina
S 32°53.353
W 068°50.862

First… let’s start by explaining Mendoza reminds us of what Sanger, Selma, Hanford or other small grape growing Central Valley towns resembled about 20 years ago. Quaint, unpretentious and relaxed…

Last night we headed to a local parilla (house of grilled meat) for dinner to have the Argentina specialty—of course, grilled meat. Not being meat eaters we were hesitant; but when in Rome… We arrived at the restaurant about 10pm and there were still a few empty tables. By 10:30, the place was packed, with no seats left and dinner hour was just beginning.

As we walked in the door, the smell from the grill permeated the place which created a Pavlov type reaction—our mouths started watering. The place had large, rustic wood tables and antique décor such as an old typewriter and a phone with microphone and ear piece. The bar was the main attraction when we walked through the door. There were wine bottles scattered throughout the place, some empty, some full, highlighting some of the top wineries in the region. Some bottles sat on top of wine barrels that were placed with no apparent method throughout the restaurant. The grill was in the back of the open-air restaurant where the owner worked feverishly to cook up the meat for all of his customers. A nice and rarely heard English radio station played in the background with music from U2, Bob Marley, Cake (Sacto represent!), Rolling Stones, etc.; of course, we asked our waitress for the station number and she was more than happy to share the station was 95.3 El Metropolitana.

We reviewed the wine list and decided on a bottle of Malbec Andeluna Reserva after we confirmed with our waitress that the selection was muy bueno. Next, we each ordered a salad—Marc ordered the tomato and onion salad (it’s summer time, so the tomatoes are nice and ripe!) and I ordered the La Barra salad. There wasn’t a description of the La Barra salad, but I was willing to take a risk. We also ordered the Bife de Chorizo medium.

Before the salads arrived we received two bowls and some bread. In one bowl was a tomato, basil, oil bruschetta type mixture. The second bowl contained two small eggs that ended up being very tasty quail eggs cooked to a sweet, salty perfection. The Malbec complimented these unexpected starters nicely.

Both salads were served in wood bowls with balsamic vinegar and olive oil on the side. The La Barra salad ended up being a mixture of tomatoes, green onions, bell peppers, and basil. We also ordered a cheese plate appetizer that was a mix of Argentinean Gruyere and something that resembled a dry jack.

The main course, the beef, arrived on a big wooden slab about 8 inches in diameter. The beef itself was a very impressive, huge chunk o’meat. We were immediately happy we decided to share this massive piece of meat that weighed at least 14-16 ounces. A piece of meat that large is difficult to cook perfectly all the way through and was obvious in our cut of meat. Some parts were medium, others were pretty rare, but we tried the various types and thoroughly enjoyed the whole experience.

We mainly came to Mendoza for the wine, weather and grilled beef. I have to say we haven’t been disappointed.

Mendoza... where´s da beef and wine?

Mendoza, Argentina

February 12, 2007
S 32°53.353
W 068°50.862

We headed out on a seven hour bus ride today from Santiago over the Andes to Mendoza, Argentina. Our plan… drink excellent wine, relax by the pool, and eat try some of what is supposed to be the best beef in the world. The longer bus ride meant we were in semi-cama class, which is a step above Clasico; seats that recline to almost 135 degrees, more leg room, a leg rest, and a little bag lunch. This bus puts Greyhound to shame!

Still, we definitely weren’t looking forward to the long bus ride, but we knew the scenery on the journey and the end results would make it worthwhile. The trip from Santiago heads directly east into the Andes where the bus climbs through countless switchbacks. The views coming up the switchbacks were absolutely breathtaking. A few of the peaks still had snow remnants from winter, but most of the snow had melted and was now running off in little creeks near the road. The ski lifts swinging in the summer the summer winds were now inoperable and looked out of place against the barren mountains.

Upon arrival at the border between Argentina and Chile all passengers had to de-board the bus for passport control. The line to cross the border and the whole process took almost an hour, but was a dream when compared to the San Ysidro border which can take hours. The inspection process is also a lot more thorough; randomly screening at least 25% of bags on board the bus and doing a visual inspection of all carry on luggage.

After completing the process we got back on the bus and headed down the other side of the Andes. The reflection from the sun as we headed down the Argentinean side made the mountains glow. The burnt orange color reminded us of red rock canyons near Vegas, except there were brilliant blue lakes mixed into the mountains. The views from the bus and experiencing more of the countryside is what convinced us to make this trek over the Andes.

Well, that the Malbec and the grilled beef…

Valpariso and our first familiar face...

Valpariso, Chile

February 11, 2007

We decided to take a day trip to Valpariso instead of hauling our luggage on the bus and through Valpariso for only one night. We didn’t want to miss is the city all together after reading good things about it in our guide book and feedback from other travelers. Plus, we hadn’t been on a bus for a few days and thought we needed some “bus” time.

We booked our tickets in advance. Good thing since the return trip home was completely sold out even though they had a bus leaving every 10 minutes. We opted for the 8am bus leaving Santiago, and the 6pm bus home. Each way was approximately 2 hours, so we thought this was perfect.

First, I should explain the bus system in Chile is very nice; there are even different classes of service mostly depending on the distance being traveled. Since our trip was short, we were on the Clasico, but the seats were comfy and with plenty of leg room. This felt like pure luxury after the infamous trip to Montenita.

We don’t want bore you with the details on Valpariso. We walked around the entire city by 12:30pm after arriving at 10a, and didn’t see anything too exciting (except for some of the graffiti art). The city is a big port town which also comes with the highest HIV rate in all of Chile. We saw a lot more homeless people here than in Santiago (or San Francisco for that matter). We don’t know if the people were homeless due to HIV, or drugs (the homeless did look “cracked” out), or both—most likely a combination.

The main attraction in the city is the 15 ascensors spread throughout the city. The ascensors, which translates into elevators, were used to bring goods and services from the port up to the people living in the hills surrounding the port. They are now simply a tourist attraction; similar to San Francisco’s cable car. They were built on railroad tracks, a big cable wheel, and a long cable with a car at each end. The big cable wheel rotates so one can go up and the other can go down. The cars are very rickety and, as Marc stated, makes the cable car look like an engineering marvel.

The ascensors might be the highlight for Valpariso, but the highlight for us was seeing our first familiar face from home. We met up with Kelsey Smith, Elise Tuttle’s roommate at UNR, who is currently studying abroad in Santiago. She happened to be in Valpariso for the day and was able to meet up with us. We were only able to spend a few hours with Kelsey and her friend Gabriel to share a few beers before heading back to Santiago, but it was nice to see she is doing well in her program.

The best way to compare Valpariso to something familiar is to compare it to Oakland, CA and the fact that it is always lost in the shadow of the larger city looming near by. In summary, Valpariso is to Santiago what Oakland is to San Francisco without the daily gang shootings (at least we think) and the street art in Valpo is awesome (see above).

Something smells fishy. Maybe it’s our laundry or maybe it’s lunch.

Santiago, Chile

February 10, 2007

We woke up early on our first morning in Santiago to continue our quest for a Lavanderia. We have been carrying around two bags of stinky, sandy clothes since we left Montanita on Wednesday. Our plan was to take care of the laundry in Guayaquil, but after searching the city for several hours we gave up, completely defeated.

After deciphering the Santiago Yellow Pages we found three places fairly close and within walking distance. We wanted to get our laundry done and then spend rest of the afternoon exploring Santiago. We struck-out at the first place since it wasn’t open on Saturdays, headed to the second place, and were successful—finally! The only catch, it was an autoservicio lavanderia which means you leave it, they wash and fold it, and you pick come back to pick it up. This actually worked out better for us, giving us time to do other errands while our laundry was being tended to.

With the chores out of the way, we finally headed out on the town for a walking tour. We hit all the highlights in Santiago, including the Mercado Central, a seafood market similar to Pike’s Place in Seattle. We were told to get seafood here, towards the center of the market, most importantly, we were told to be adventurous.

We walked into the market, which looks like it used to be an old seafood processing center. Along the outskirts of the market are the fish purveyors selling calamari, sea urchin, sea snails, various types of fish, mussels, shrimp, clams, and other unidentifiable sea creatures. The purveyors weren’t tossing the salmon as you see at Pike’s Place; however, they were playing their own little jokes on the crowd by playing with some of the various fish for sale.

As we headed towards the center of the market the hosts from the various restaurants started vying for our business, telling us they had the perfect table for us. We did a few laps of the market before deciding on a restaurant, La Joya del Pacifico. The decision was easy because the suave host explained he knew exactly where San Francisco was and loved Gloria Gainer and Jefferson Airplane. After we sat down at the table, the waiter promptly brought us bread, butter and a very fresh looking salsa. There were no chips with the salsa but it tasted wonderful with the soft bread and was a nice alternative to butter.

We both decided to get a bowl of the mixed seafood soup in an attempt to be adventurous. The seafood soup arrived at the table in a scalding cast iron bowl, and I immediately decided we were very adventurous since many of the unidentifiable items sold by the purveyors were now in our soup. We each took a bite—fantastic!

The sauce consisted of standard ingredients such as garlic, onions, tomatoes, white wine, cilantro, pepper oil, and small chunks of ham. The mix of seafood included clams, mussels, calamari, shrimp, white fish, sea snails, abalone, oysters and sea urchin. The final touch on the soup was a bit of sand and a few broken shells…we decided it wouldn’t be seafood soup without these final ingredients.

We both ate as much of the seafood as possible, dipping some of the bread into the soup or into the salsa, and washing it down with a nice cold Cristal beer. As we hit our limit, it appeared we barely made a dent in the dish, but our bellies were full and we were ready to explore some more.

We took one final lap of the market before heading back on the street to see more of Santiago.

Another travel day... Ecuador to Chile

February 9, 2007

We happily left Guayaquil, Ecuador and headed to Santiago, Chile today. Another travel day, it was bound to be adventurous, but not as crazy as the bus ride with the pisser—at least we hoped not.

We knew our arrival in Santiago was scheduled for almost ten o’clock in the evening, so we wanted to arrange a hotel and a ride from the airport in advance. This isn’t as easy as one would think. We started sending emails to different hotels prior to our departure from San Francisco near the end of January. Unfortunately, we never heard back from any of them. The day before our departure from Ecuador, we called our desired hotel (Hotel Monte Carlo) to ensure we had a reservation at arrival. They couldn’t pick us up at the airport, but we secured a reservation. Whew!

We landed in Santiago on schedule around 9:30 PM local time. We quickly deplaned, headed to the immigration check point, grabbed our bags, and, after customs, we braced ourselves for the normal onslaught of taxi cab drivers dying for our business. Our plan was to quickly grab some local currency at the airport ATM and jump in a cab. At least that was the plan… when we walked out of customs we saw a young Chilean gentleman holding a sign that said “Marc Heckman.” Perfect, we thought… the hotel actually came through with transportation for us – nice, we don’t have to haggle with the many cab drivers. Marc gave him the head nod and a big smile, he acknowledged, and we made our way towards him.

We started walking out of the airport without going to the ATM and I decided to ask the young gentlemen if we can pay him in US Dollars. He turned and explained we could take care of it at the hotel. The Velazquez Hotel won’t have any problems handling this transaction.

I turned to Marc, “The Velazquez Hotel?” I said, “That isn’t the place we called yesterday.” Marc and I kind of stop behind the guy and opened our trusty Lonely Planet guide—I scanned the page for the Velazquez Hotel. I couldn’t find the place on my first scan. The guy stopped, looked back inquisitively and waited for us up ahead; we quickly caught up with him. We had no idea where we were going, but figured it would be an experience and, at the least, a ride into the city center and a place to stay.

We got into the car and immediately noticed his gas tank was on empty—as in below the red line. As we drove out of the airport, headed to some unknown location, we saw a sign stating Santiago 16 km.

I thought… Oh great, we’re on the road to “somewhere” and the story behind it will be even better when we run out of gas. Every few minutes the car let out a little beep-beep to remind the driver it desperately needed a fill-up. Our driver didn’t seem phased at first and sped by gas station after gas station. The beep-beeps started getting closer together, and I think I saw sweat building on the driver’s forehead in the rear view mirror. Now he began to panic and started driving a little faster, determined not run out of gas with us in the car—we appreciated this. The beep-beeps were now coming about every 30 seconds when we finally exited the freeway.

The driver quickly drove to the hotel, even running through a questionable pink light and rolled up to Hotel Diego de Velazquez. We don’t know how they had a reservation for us, maybe an email sent a month or so ago, but they had a room with our name and we had a place to stay that night. We’ll take it!

The Quest for Clean Clothes...

Guayaquil, Ecuador

February 8, 2007
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We left the beautiful, relaxing beach at Montanita on Wednesday and headed back on the bus to the hustle and bustle of Guayaquil, Ecuador’s largest city.

First, I want to take a few paragraphs to give the beach at Montanita some justice. The beach in front of the place we stayed stretches to the South for at least 10km, all of which you can walk during low tide. The water isn’t the turquoise blue you see in postcard pictures, but it is a green-blue color. The beach is pretty clean thanks to an education program and the locals seem to take a lot of pride in keeping the white sands clean.

We swam/body surfed in the lukewarm, almost too warm, water during the day, mostly during low tide. When the tide started to come in, the water belonged to the surfers, who headed into the water in mass, and we promptly exited the water—you are only asking to get hurt if you stay in the water with the surfers. After we got out of the water we would play a little Frisbee to dry-off, and then head to the patio where we would watch the surfers, drink 750ml Brahma (a local beer) for a $1.50 each, and wait for the most beautiful sunsets we have ever seen to date. We repeated this “exhausting” exercise for five straight days…

Our time at the beach accomplished its goal—time to decompress after many months of getting ready for our trip—we were so relaxed, we didn’t want to leave. However, we realized it was only our first week of the trip and we have many more great things (and beaches) to see along the way.

We headed back to Guayaquil with enough time to accomplish one thing—do laundry. We had a couple of other small things we needed to do in the city such as drop some stuff in the mail and buy a new USB memory stick since Marc “decided” to go swimming with the last one, but our main goal was to wash the stinky, sandy clothes from the beach.

Our Lonely Planet guide (last updated in 2003) said most places specialize in dry cleaning, not laundry, except for one. The one was very close to our hotel—perfect! We wrote the address down and scoped the whole thing out after our arrival on Wednesday evening. We found the location, but it was closed, and a revolving metal door was pulled down in front of the business blocking access. The address didn’t have any signage on the outside, so we figured we would just come back the following morning.

We set out on our laundry quest on Thursday morning, with bags of stinky clothes in hand. The nondescript building we found the night before is now a small office space with about 20 computers and a guard armed with what appeared to be an automatic Uzi, wearing a bullet-proof vest, standing in front. (Don’t panic, most businesses have an armed guard protecting them from the city hoodlums). We decided it would probably be best not to ask the guard about what happened to the lavanderia and returned to our hotel, bags of soiled clothes in hand. We figured we would find another lavanderia while completing some of our other tasks for the day. We did check with the concierge in the hotel to see if they could help us with our bags of reeking clothes. The concierge pointed us to the ridiculously expensive hotel service ($2.50 per t-shirt) and advised us that there isn’t anyone in the area that does just laundry. There has to be someplace, we said to each other.

We walked around the city for at least two hours sightseeing, looking at USB sticks, mailing things, and we never found a single laundry facility. Defeated, we returned to our hotel, where it was nice and cool, and stayed out of the city for rest of the day.

Not too much else to say about Guayaquil… Of course we know there will be other nondescript cities like Guayaquil (hopefully with laundry facilities). We just hope we get the sense in advance to get in and out as quickly as possible.

Next stop… Chile.

First Culinary Delight

Montanita

February 5, 2007

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For several days now we have been approached on the beach by Ecuadorian vendors on bike carts selling cebiche oestra, or oyster ceviche. Well, they aren’t really bikes, but more of a three wheeled cart, the front of the cart is used as a traveling oyster bar and the back of the cart is used to maneuver the bike along the beach. We were a little hesitant to give the “fresh” ceviche a try since the vendors peddle up-and-down the steaming, hot beach all day and there’s literally no ice or refrigeration on the carts. Plus, we weren’t really sure where their product came from; we figured some type of Ecuadorian oyster farm. Is there such a thing?

This morning, during a long walk on the beach we decided to explore the tide pools located on The Point to the right of our place, and that is where we saw the ceviche guys stocking up for the day. They were actually pulling the oysters right out of the water as we approached. I decided this was as fresh as it was going to get—we had to try it!

Marc isn’t a big fan of oysters, so the guy offered us the especial mixto—fish, shrimp, and oysters. I walked away briefly and apparently the friendly vendor proudly pulled a sinewy 24 inch octopus out of a five gallon bucket of saltwater and asked Marc if he would like it included in the mixto… Marc politely declined; no gracias.

To start the dish, he shucks the oysters by placing a rock on the ground and gives them a few good whacks with a metal mallet. After opening the two oysters and removing them from their shells he cuts them up into chunks and tosses them into a bowl about 7 inches in diameter. He adds the shrimp and dorado (a white fish) that has been soaking in lime juice from a couple grimy looking Tupperware bowls. Then, he squeezed the first lime into the bowl, and added all of the ingredients from his cart including cilantro, red onions, jalapenos, salt, diced tomatoes and a couple quick shots of oil. He adds a second lime before asking us if we want some Tapatio like hot-sauce for a little extra heat. Of course we do! He gave us one squirt, and we encouraged him to keep going. Then he asked us if we want roasted corn nuts—sure, give us the works!

We sat down on the closest rock in the tide-pool and shared the $3 bowl of delight as the guy stayed close and waited for his bowl and spoon to be returned. The blend of flavors was perfect, titillating all of the senses—sour, sweet, spicy and salty. We alternated bites, passing the spoon back and forth. Marc stuck with the fish and shrimp (he did try a couple pieces of oyster since they were hard to miss). After the majority of the seafood was gone, we still took turns slurping up the lime juice with all of its wonderful flavors. With the bowl empty, immediately craving more, we handed “our” bowl and spoon back to our ceviche chef. While he washed the bowl and spoon in what appeared to be a soapy solution on his cart we told him we might see him again tomorrow for another especial mixto! He suggested again that we try the octopus—we will see.

I look forward to more culinary experiences like this one on the trip. Unfortunately, this is the only one worth talking about to date.

Super Bowl Sunday at the Point...

Montanita, Ecuador

Super Bowl Sunday
February 4th, 2007
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After our move to The Point yesterday, we immediately scouted out a place to watch the Super Bowl. The place we found is actually connected to our new hostel, Casa del Sol, and has breathtaking views of the beach from the bar, where you can actually walk right into the ocean (see pic).

The owner of the bar is a burly guy from Philadelphia named Mike. He owns the bar with his Ecuadorian wife who is at least 15 years his junior. Mike is probably 6’ tall, weighing in at close to 225, which might have been muscle at some point in his life, back in the football playing days. Mike and his wife permanently relocated from Philadelphia to Ecuador in November after the loss of his father. At least this is what we gathered from our conversations with Mike.

We started the pre-game festivities by watching “Invincible” with Mike. He was really pumped up since the story is about a guy, played by Marky Mark, who tried out for the Philadelphia Eagles in an open tryout and made the team. Mike made it clear he is a die hard Philly fan since that is the way he was born. He didn’t really care who won the Super Bowl, as long as it was a good game.

We quickly slipped from the movie to the pre-game show which was all in Spanish. We had a few minutes of hysteria until the game came on and we determined it was in English. Others trickled into the bar, mostly Americans, but nobody really cared about the outcome. Everyone was just looking for something to do until it was time to surf again.

We had the standard football pool where everyone picked their squares. We weren’t big winners there, but we did enjoy watching the game. We have only been gone one week, but it was nice to have something familiar on a Sunday night. There is nothing more familiar than good old fashioned football, hot dogs, beer and potato chips.

Surfs Up and All is Groovy...

February 3rd, 2007

Montanita, Ecuador
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After two nights in the party environment within the village of Montanita, we decided to head to the North End of town, also known as The Point, in search of sleep. The music boomed well into the wee hours of the morning, causing us to stay up late and wake up late. Each morning we woke up and there were new tents, almost as if they had been breeding, just to the left of our place in an open area of sand. As we walked by the tents, towards the beach, the smell of strong weed permeated from the tents. I am positive we would have found at least a half a dozen sleeping bodies on the beach at 8a, if we were up that early. We gravitated towards our room each night a little after 11p where I wrote and Marc read. Two nights of this was enough.

We made the one mile trek, fully loaded with our packs, along the beach at low tide to The Point, a place that was supposedly discovered by a California surfer 25 years ago, and found a new place to stay, La Casa del Sol. The place costs more than our last place; however, how much are you willing to pay for sleep, air conditioning and an overall better environment?

The two places, the village and The Point, are as different as oil and water, one chaotic and crazy with signs that say, “drogas prohibidad” the other calm and peaceful with people here just to surf and enjoy the ocean. The people from The Point do go to party in the village, but when they are tired they can come back to the peaceful, calm Point for a nice evening of rest and relaxation. The main focus of the clientele is to catch the waves morning, noon, and night.

The Manager of the place we are staying, Greg, is an American from D.C. currently living part time in Ecuador and the other part of the time in Indonesia. Basically, he follows the surf, and when the surf is flat, as he calls it, he manages hotels and has other things to do such as varnish doors, fix the cleaning process, and build out a real kitchen with a chef that puts out the quality food his clientele is looking for. Greg appears to be in his mid-to-late 30s, about 6’1” and 165, with a shaved head, he is a lean, mean surfing machine. Greg’s passion for surfing, and the obsession expressed by others we met, makes us want to go out tomorrow morning and catch some waves. Who knows, maybe we will!

People are Strange

February 1st, 2007
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We finally got off of the bus in Montenita at about 5:45p from Guayaquil after the marathon bus ride. Marc tossed his nicely sealed emergency Ziploc bag of stomach bile to the side of the road in a pile of plastic bottles, bags and other garbage. It was extremely hot and he was simply over-heated. Our goal was to get off the bus and find a place to stay as quickly as possible and begin the recovery process with lots of water. The temperature is now about 103 and the humidity is at least 70%.

We got our packs on our back, I grabbed the rest of our stuff, and we walked across the street to the entrance of Montenita. I wasn’t able to take in everything on our first walk through town; I wanted to get Marc taken care of first. I figured we had a few days to explore. We were looking for a place called, La Casa Blanca, since the place we were hoping to stay was located behind La Casa Blanca. No, there were not any street addresses, but the directions in Lonely Planet claimed all places were off of the main street into the Village.

We got to the first cross street. A car was honking its horn behind us—I went right, Marc went left. I see the sign in the distance for La Casa Blanca on my side. When I turned back to look for Marc, I peered down the other side of the street. There was a banner that read, “People are Strange.” The banner didn’t have much significance at the time since we had more important things to worry about.

I screamed over the car horns and blaring Reggae music for Marc’s attention and we made our way to the place we wanted to stay; boasting immaculate rooms, terraces with hammocks for every room, and most importantly private baths. We were in luck; they had a room for us with a mood setting mosquito-net and everything. We dropped off our stuff and headed to get Marc some water and a little something to eat. It was at this time we were finally able to fully absorb the village.

The village is a cross between a Grateful Dead show, the summer in Pacific Beach, known as PB to the locals in San Diego, and a greatly scaled down French Quarter in New Orleans. So picture this, you have guys in dreadlocks with their standard Guatemalan print shorts, carrying their surfboards (this is an epic surf village), and they have their roadie (or beverage of choice) in their other hand. Most people are walking the street barefoot, or with flip flops. Street vendors are peddling jewelry, chicken on a stick, fruit smoothies, empanadas, grilled corn, your name written in Japanese, or whatever else they can sell to make a few bucks.

Every place along the main street is a bar, restaurant, and hostel all in one. There are only two side streets and the main street, which dead-ends into the beach. We are clearly some of the older people in this village; which was confirmed as soon as we received the flyer for the “Full Moon Beach Festival.” There is a big party every month to celebrate the full moon, which is on February 3rd, and we were lucky enough to arrive in time for this festival, which is an all night rave on the beach—right up our alley.

We sat at a table that is close to the main street, perfect for people watching. There were a lot of young adults who look like they just never went home. I’m sure this is a great place for parents to come find their missing children.

As we sat having dinner and watching the human traffic, a young, very tan, female performer in a tank top and skirt is doing backbends in the street, preparing for a show of what ended up being flaming baton twirling. Her friends stood beside her for support. When she was finished with her performance, she went table to table trying to collect money for the performance. At the same time, two stray dogs wandered into our restaurant and began humping and all attention was immediately diverted to the copulating canines… which were actually more entertaining than the street performer. Of course this will bring more orphaned dogs to the village in the coming months. At one point I turned to Marc and said, “This place is a total freak show, do we belong here?” Marc’s response was, “we live in San Francisco, baby, this is nothing.”

The younger crowd continued to do laps around the village—it only takes about five minutes. As the night grew on, the circling crowd got larger, as if they were all waiting for someone to tell them the cool place to go. It was almost as if they were playing musical chairs, but the pumping music (Reggae, Jack Johnson, Latino, Salsa, etc.) never stopped. We never saw a single bar completely packed. However, we did go to bed pretty early, 11p, after our long travel day. The music continued to thump late into the morning.

By the end of the evening, I understood the purpose of the banner “People are Strange,” and it was more than a tribute to Jim Morrison.

More to come in Montenita…

What a Pisser!

Montanita, Ecuador

February 1, 2007
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We woke up fairly early today, 8:45a, knowing it was a travel day. Travel days are always hard since things are out of our control. Our plan was to make it from Quito to Montanita, a little beach town approximately 200 km from Guayquil. To make this trip possible in a day, we opted for the 45 minute flight from Quito to Guayquil (instead of the eight hour bus ride), and planned to take buses the rest of the way to Monteñita. This is really the only way to get there with the exception of hiring a private taxi.

I was the first to wake up when the alarm went off at 8:45a, I slowly made my way to the shower, having slept very little. I was convinced the anti-malaria drugs we are taking were messing with my mind, and, therefore, my sleep. Each night before we went to bed we took one of the little pink pills in preparation for our trip to the beach. After my shower, I decided I wouldn’t take the pink pill at night anymore, but instead I would take the pill in the morning. So, after my shower, and before breakfast, I popped my daily anti-malaria pill and started packing my bag in preparation for the day. Ten minutes into packing, Marc now in the shower, I started sweating profusely. I sat down on the bed for a few minutes and finished my book, “Running with Scissors.” I sipped on some Gatorade, fruit punch flavor, hoping the sugar would make me feel better. No such luck, I ran into the bathroom and refunded all of the Gatorade I just drank.

Marc stepped out of the shower at about this time. He too took a little pink pill at my suggestion. I convinced him to eat a Clif Bar before he got sick too. I should mention he made the same suggestion to me, which I promptly ignored thinking Gatorade was my best option, thinking of the breakfast we would have at our little B&B.

We made it through breakfast, no puking from Marc, and headed to the airport. I was feeling much better, since the pink pill was probably completely exhumed at this point. We boarded our flight promptly at 1p and made it to the other end with luggage in hand by 2p.

Our day, and the fun, was just beginning when we landed in Guayquil. We left the airport terminal, got in a cab to the bus terminal 1.2 km away to catch a bus to Monteñita, snaked our way through the terminal to the ticket booth, and got to our bus with about 10 minutes to spare. We were very lucky to catch the next bus, or we would need to wait two more hours in the heat. The temperature when we landed in Guayquil was 28C, or close to 88F, and the humidity was upwards of 80%. We were drenched by the time we got on the bus, and I suggested to Marc we grab a few waters before our departure—thank goodness we did.

Bus rides in other countries are always an experience, similar to the Stockton 30, but different. Our bus had a drape between the driver and the rest of the bus. This was a good thing because it prevented me from seeing the seemingly suicidal movements the driver was making. The passengers had another distraction, a movie. The movie for the trip was called DOA, Dead or Alive. I had never heard of it before this trip. Marc only knew about it because Jamie Presley was featured in Playboy, and they had a great article on the movie. Marc summed up the article for me—the chicks in the movie are hot, but the movie itself sucks. I have to agree with Playboy on this one. Thank goodness they have those great articles.

The bus made a few stops along the road between Guayquil and Salinas, our transfer point to Monteñita, but the purpose of the stops was to let food vendors on board. They sold anything from ice cream to chicken and meat kabobs to deep fried surprises. The aroma from the food was wonderful, a lot better than the stinky, sweaty passengers, but we opted out due to that damn pink pill we took early in the morning. We still had at least 2 hours on the bus and we didn’t want to risk anything.

We finally got to the transfer point to Monteñitas. The only indication was the porter, or ticket taker, yelling at us in Spanish. Luckily, we figured it out, and got off the bus with four young ladies with the same destination. We waited at a corner, in some village in the middle of the dessert, after purchasing another ticket for the remainder of the way, and waited for a bus to show up.

The bus finally arrived 40 mins later, completely packed, and we picked two seats in the last row of the bus, the only two seats together. However, when we boarded, instead of there being food vendors, there was a traveling drama team already in mid-performance. We were probably on the bus for two minutes when a man in front of us started yelling and chastising the act. One of the “actors” told the guy to listen, but at the time we didn’t know he was part of the crew. In the end, the drama team passed out candy bars to the bus, and then came back and collected the $.50 from each person. We opted out of the charade by feigning to not understand what was going on... which was true.

After the performance was over, the entire crew departed the bus and I moved over one seat to give Marc a little more room. The windows on the back of the bus didn’t open and it is hotter than Hades. I had the day pack between my legs, resting on the floor, and Marc was balancing our packs on his knees.

It is at this point I felt a drop of liquid on my foot. Immediately suspicious, I looked at the guy in front of me through the reflection in the window. Remember, he was the same one having a fit over the drama performance. I see something spouting up between his legs, I shit you not! I immediately pull up the day pack and turn to Marc and say, “I think he's pissing.” Marc peeks over the seat and confirms my suspicion. I pull my legs completely up, Marc takes the day pack in his lap, and I tell the guy sitting next to Marc. The guy instantly goes to the front of the bus to report the findings to the porter. The porter comes to the back of the bus and confronts the pisser. The pisser tries to blame the incident on the delay due to the drama team and, specifically, the guy who told him to be quiet and listen; at least we think this is what happened. I could only understand every few words, making the complete translation difficult. The porter wasn't making much progress with the pisser and headed back to the front of the bus for reinforcement.

It was at this time the guy sitting (and sleeping) next to the pisser realized what happened, he repositioned himself on the armrest, bought some popcorn from a food vendor on board and got caught up on the entertainment.

The bus continues for a few more stops before the porter and his reinforcement come back to confront the pisser, who is now standing up in the aisle. I think he got tired of sitting in his own urine. Then another guy joins the reinforcements and they all have a discussion with the pisser, to no avail.

Then, the two larger guys get behind the pisser and begin pushing him to a waiting police officer at the front of the bus. After the pisser was escorted from the bus the porter came back with a spray bottle of 'something' and few paper towels and did a half-assed clean up of the mess.

The pisser was gone and we were back on our way. This whole incident with the pisser took about 20 mins and during that time the bus was stopped and it kept getting hotter and hotter. The air circulation in the back of the bus was poor, and Marc still had the day pack on his lap to avoid the piss on the floor of the bus. Our water was long gone and, in retrospect, we probably should have bought a few more, but we thought we were almost there.

Marc started getting very anxious like when he has motion sickness. The back of the bus is not the best place to be since you feel every single bump in the road. Marc placed the day pack in the aisle within in reach, and stood up to get a little air. It was a little too late. Marc sat back down and asked me for his emergency bag. We were 5K away from our destination at this point. Marc spent the last 5K dry heaving into a gallon Ziploc bag thankful he didn’t eat any of the deep fried surprises along the way.

When we arrived, Marc took his zipped up Ziploc with him; we got our bags, and made our way into the town of Monteñita. The entry into Monteñita will get its own story later. We found a cute little place to stay, right on the beach, put our stuff away just in time to see the sun starting to set out our window.

We dropped everything and ran closer to the water, about 100m. The beautiful reddish, orange globe was right in front of us prepared to dive into the water for the night. It was the most spectacular sunset either one of us have ever seen.

I guess the sunset made the rest of the miserable day worth it.

First few days...Quito, Ecuador

Quito, Ecuador

January 31, 2007

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Today we took a trip 22 km outside of the city to see La Mitad de Mundo. The middle of the world is its own little city outside of Quito. There are several restaurants, parks, souvenir shops, with the highlight being in the middle of the “City.” There in the middle is a massive monument recognizing the spot on the equator when the latitude reaches 00.000.000. We headed directly towards the monument when we arrived.

Marc, with GPS in hand, was determined to verify the accuracy of the monument. The closest he got was 00.000.112 near the monument. He did find a spot with a reading of 00.000.049 closer to the fence of the city.

The highlight of the day, at least for me, was recording Marc standing on the big “O” for Oeste, or West, with the line dividing the two hemispheres below him. It was here that he let one rip, as he did in the Four Corners several years ago while traveling cross country with Mike T.; I know this because I have seen the tape highlights of that journey with Mike.

Tomorrow we will head to Guayquil, Quito and then over to the beach. The weather should be perfect—in the 80s almost all the time. We will relax on the beach for several days prior to returning to Guayquil. We hope to have internet access during that time, so keep looking for blog updates.

January 30, 2007
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We had a fantastic day exploring Quito. The town is broken up into three sections—Old Town, New Town and Mariscal Sucre. We hit all of them. As we walked from Mariscal Sucre through New Town, we got to the main park, Parque El Ejido, and continued through to Parque de Alameda.

We heard some noise in the distance, but decided to turn down a street and move away from the noise. Large crowds are not always the best places to be in foreign countries.

At the North corner of Parque de Alameda, there was a little monument that looked like a good lookout point. We climbed to the top, huffing and puffing a little since we are almost at 10,000 feet. We made it to the top and took a seat—we were the only people on top. This wasn’t a big monument; maybe 20 feet high with a weather vain on the top, but it was the perfect place for us to be at this point in time.

The same time we got to the top of the monument, we heard some yelling in the distance, and then we heard a few sirens. We looked out from the point we were sitting and saw some people running in the distance. A few seconds later the sirens drew closer, and we saw officers fully suited in riot gear. People were frantically spilling into Parque de Alameda, the look of fear in their eyes even though they are part of the protest.

Marc pulls out his camera to take a video of the protest and the people trying to escape the police in the riot gear. Next, the riot police unleashed the tear gas, as Marc captured the mayhem on his camera. The situation couldn’t have been too bad since the guy manning the hot dog cart was running with the protestors.

The tear gas cleared and we decided to depart from the top of the monument to complete our tour of Quito. We noticed a church from the top of the monument, Church of La Basillica, and decided to weave our way towards the historical monument. We did our best to avoid the protesters rest of the day, and it wasn’t too difficult since every where we went was heavily secured with police.

We ended the afternoon at the local British Pub having a few pints. Yes, this is kind of cheating since they speak English in the British pub, but it was day one—give us a little time.

I have to say our first day in Quito made us feel like home—those people in San Francisco protest everything too!

Bon Voyage

We are literally hours away from our big trip that has been 26 months in the making. We are currently camped out at the Hyatt Hotel near SFO (Priceline special!) and will board our plane at approximately 6:30 AM tomorrow morning, 1/29.

Everything up to this point has been well planned and completely under our control. Now, as we are about to board the plane, we are venturing into the unknown territory where things WILL be out of our control regardless of our meticulous planning. We are officially in the execution phase of the project, and it will take the team (Marc and I) to pull together to ensure as close to perfect execution as possible. I think we are ready for the challenge--I guess we better be at this point!

We know there will be challenges along the way--illness, missed flights, canceled flights, lost luggage, etc.--but each challenge will result in a story we can share with our friends and family along the way.

The emotions have been intense the past couple of weeks saying "see you soon" to all of our friends and family, some who made excuses to see us just one more time. After we went through the packing list one last time today, did some final touch-up cleaning, we placed our packs in Mike Swartz's rental car, and set out for the airport with red eyes (Thanks again Mike). We couldn't really describe how we were feeling--it wasn't sad, or scared--maybe it was good old fashioned anxiety.

We both know we are about to embark on something very special. We believe the anxiety that is running on high today will slowly dissipate when we land in Quito, Ecuador, and continue to diminish as we reach the coast of Ecuador for 7 days of complete relaxation on the beach.

We will miss everyone, including our City. We heard a new lady at Cafe Trieste yesterday say, "I moved hear from Cleveland, OH just a few weeks ago. I really like it because I feel like I am on the same wavelength as everyone else here. I was really tired of being perceived as a freak in Cleveland." Her new friend responded, "Well, it is San Francisco."

We don't think we will find a City we love as much as San Francisco, but that is part of our quest. That and a cup of coffee that can stand up to Cafe Trieste.

Please feel free to email us at mjheckman@yahoo.com or lssassafras@yahoo.com.

Two weeks... let the packing frenzy begin!

So... we're literally two weeks from departure. In two weeks from now we will be in Quito, Ecuador and our journey will be under way. But before we get ahead of ourselves we need to take care of all the last minute tasks. We knew the last 30 days would be extremely busy but I think we have actually done a good job at managing all the tasks (thanks to Laura, a.k.a Master Tasker). The past few days have been exhausting with saying good-bye to friends, the Kai Kln Reunion Tour, packing the house, and most importantly the organization and packing of our backpacks.

If you want a quick little snap-shot of what it has felt like you can watch Laura as she attempts to pack her backpack for a year's worth of adventure. The funky camera angle simply adds to what our lives have felt like for the past couple weeks.

Two weeks...

One Month Until Departure...

Well, we made it through the annual tour of the Central Valley of California for Christmas, and we are officially one month away from our flight date. Marc's last day of work is this Friday (12/29) and my last day is January 18th. I am taking the 2nd-10th off to pack up the house and get things ready.

The trip became very real over the holidays. There is a very good possibility we won't see some of our family again before we leave. There were a few tears as I said goodbye to everyone, including my nephew who will be 18 by the time we get back in 2008. There were two engagements during the holidays too--Marc's brother, Joel and my Maid of Honor, Jenn. The idea of possibly missing big events like these while we are gone also became very real this weekend. I guess we will find ways to deal with it. We are very happy for Joel & Lisa and Jenn & Kris. We hope they will meet us along the way to celebrate with us.

The calendar for January is packed with events for the trip. Packing and last minute shopping will consume a good majority of our days. We will also take advantage of the time to run, do yoga, and hangout at Trieste.

Check this site often for updates...especially after January 29th when we land in Quito, Ecuador.

Time to Go...

When we celebrated Thanksgiving last year we said, "when we get to Thanksgiving next year, we are pretty much there." Well, we did it. We spent the extended Thanksgiving weekend packing our drop boxes. The drop boxes include critical supplies we need during our trip. The boxes will be transported to my dad's house for shipment to Sydney and a few spots in Europe.

The trip is very real at this point. The majority of the people at our work know we are leaving, we spent a full weekend packing, and I forgot to mention, we also purchased the tickets for the second leg of the trip. Sometimes I have to ask myself if I am crazy for going on this trip, being away from family and friends for an entire year, but then I realize this is a once in a lifetime experience. Our friends and family will just have to visit us along the way.

This weekend, with the preparation of the drop boxes, really gave us a feel for how crazy January is going to be. We will have critical tasks to complete daily, preparing for the trip and preparing our condo for its new occupants. At least we are well organized and work well together under pressure.

The countdown to our departure date is 65 days, but only 36 more work days. I guess it really is...time to go!!

It's Halloween and we're 62 days away...

Back in January of this year we were in Guatemala I remember thinking... man, when we get to Halloween I know we will have made it! Guess what? Tomorrow is Halloween and it sure looks like we're gonna make it.

All systems are still Go! In fact, Laura has finally told her boss about her plans for 2007. She was so anxious about telling everyone at her work. I tried to explain to her that she shouldn't worry. I was sure her boss and coworkers would be excited for her; not angry or disappointed. Of course... I was right and her anxiety about telling everyone at work has been left behind.

Now the real anxiety... We're 62 days away from 2007 and traveling around the world for a year! Don't worry, we'll be ready to walk down the pier

Start - January 28, 2007: San Francisco, Quito, Guayaquil, Santiago, Valparaiso, Santiago, Puerto Mont, Punta Arenas, Puerto Natales, Torres Del Paine, Punta Arenas, Porvemir, Rio Grande, Ushuaia, Puerto Williams, Ushuaia, Rio Gallegos, Puerto San Julian, Puerto Madryn, Bahia Blanca, Necochea, Tandil, Mar del Playa, Buenos Aires, San Francisco, Auckland, Bay of Islands, Paihia, Rotorua/Lake Taupo, Te Urewera National Park, East Cape, Wellington, Picton, Marlborough Sounds, Nelson, Kahurangi National Park, Westport, Arthur's Pass National Park, Queenstown, Christchurch, Sydney, Hanoi, Halong Bay, Ninh Binh (Tam Coc), Hoa Lu, Hue, Da Nang, Hoi An, My Son, Nha Trang/Mui Ne Beach, Ho Chi Minh City, Vientiane, Luang Prabang, Vientiane, Savavvakhet, Pakse, Champasak, Si Phan Don, Pakse, Siem Reap, Phnom Penh, Bangkok, Mumbai, Delhi, Frankfurt, Cairo, Prague, Vienna, Bratislava, Budapest, Zagreb, Rijeka, Trieste, Venice, Milan, Parma, Bologne, Florence, Rome, Naples, Messina, Palermo, Barcelona, Mallorca, Grenada, Seville, Madrid, San Sebastian, Bordeaux, Brussels, Amsterdam, Frankfurt, New York City, San Francisco Finish - January 23, 2008.

100 days...

Well we're at 100...

Incredible, it seems I remember first talking with Laura about what it would take to do something like this trip just a few months ago. I remember we first talked about going for 3 months and then we figured 6 months was minimum. Well, in less than 100 days we will be headed out the door for a year.

Not much has changed since my last post a few months ago. Laura is on her way home from San Diego at this moment after yet another week of traveling for work. Over the past 14 days we have actually been within arms reach of each other 6 days. Can you imagine... that crazy woman is going to be within arms reach of me for a full year. Oooh, I'm gonna drive her nuts!

Our air tix to South America are purchased. First stop... Quito, Ecuador and we just keep heading south along the Pacific coast until we run out of land. After we run out of land we plan on heading north up the Atlantic coastline until we get to Uruguay. Then we'll be headed back through San Francisco before we head off to New Zealand and the remaining 9 months of our trip...

100 days... just 100 days.