Back in Jerusalem

It's been a while, sorry. In the last few days, we've gone to a winery, Tel Aviv, and spent the night on a kibbutz. Forgive me for not getting to a computer.

Ok, so the winery was located in the West Bank. Yes, that West Bank, the second most dangerous place in Israel (the first being the Gaza strip). The city we went to was right on the border with Jerusalem proper, so it wasn't particularly nasty, but we took a bulletproof bus just to be safe.

Alright, bulletproof busses are one of those terrible ideas that actually appears like a good one. Yes, it's smart to be protected in a turbulent area, but a much better idea might be to simply avoid such places that warrent a bus with plate glass windows. But that's just my opinion. Nonetheless, we really weren't placed in too much danger, because we were surrounded by--and I'm quoting our tour guide, here--"The good Arabs." In other words, people who just want to go about their day.

Here's a pic of the winery owner giving us a tour of his production facility.


Now look a bit closer, and you'll see that he's probably the only wine maker in the world that has a pistol strapped to his belt.


The rest of the day was spent hiking (with armed escorts) through the Jewish settlements in the region. The settlement issue is a complicated one, and warrants at least it's own posting, but I'll sum up the basic points. Ok, so Israel and Palestine are not exactly two equal states, the Palastinian territories (Gaza, West Bank, and a few others) are somewhat autonomous, but tecnically under Israeli control. Within them are Jewish outposts that are actually part of Israel, even though they may be surrounded by Palestine territories on all sides. They may not even be bigger than a single neighborhood, but are still part of the main state. Many were "settled" in a furious midnight land grab the day Israeli's prime minister signed an agreement halting all new territorial constuction (by Jews), so the residences are often no more than mobile homes or shanties placed on strategic hill top locations. But technically, Israel now has full control over the small areas, since its citizens own the land.

Personally, I think this whole issue (and the rest of the conflict, for that matter) is absolutely ridiculous. It's the type of juvenile behaviour that we had in grade school. Except that this game of King of the Hill costs peoples' lives. Arab land, Jewish land, who cares? There are bigger things to worry about than territorial claims.

Sigh.

On a brighter note, the next day was spent in Tel Aviv. We toured a tank museum run by the Israeli army, which was just what it sounds like. I did learn that women are allowed in the tank core, but only as instructors. Apparently the higher ups thought that beautiful Israeli women carrying M-16s might hold a guy's attention. I think that they were right.

The evening was spent downtown. If Jerusalem is God's city, Tel Aviv is the Devil's. All night parties, amazing beaches, alcohol that flows like water, and some of the most beautiful people that I've ever seen. How come we're only here for a day? There's not much more to say about an evening spent on the beach drinking beer and watching the World Cup on a giant projection screen, other than that it was one of those moments that really makes you love life.

We just got back from an overnight trip to the north, touring the holy cities of Tiberia and Svat. Tiberia was a quick stop, but we spent most of the afternoon in Svat, known as the birthplace of Kaballa. You know, Madonna's mysticism. The main attraction is a super-important Mikvah, a bath tub for the soul. Now, squeezing into a 1 meter pool with three other naked dudes wasn't exactly my cup o' tea, so I spent the day visiting a candle factory and rebuffing the intense barrage of tourist hawkers. ("My friend, my friend, I have good deal for you.")

Here's a pic of a fully intact mosaic floor from a 6th century synagogue.


And here's one of the top of our hike over the Sea of Gallilee.


Last night was spent on a summer camp-like kibbutz. It wasn't too much in the way of good blogging, but it was a nice relaxing evening of informal sports, good food and good company.

Alright, now I've got to rest up for Shabbat, I don't know if I'm ready for it yet. I'll check in after the weekend. All the best.

M

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Another photo

Hi there,

Nothing much has happened in the last couple of days (a good thing in Israel), but I did find another photo from Masada, the mountain fort that I went to last week.



M

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Camels, mountains, weddings and rabbis

Six months ago, if you told me that I would be spending Shabbat at a rabbi's house in the middle of Jerusalem, I would have asked if you were crazy. Or I would have asked if he had a hot daughter. But here I am, in the middle of Jerusalem, digesting three huge meals eaten in the home of a rabbi, who coincidentally has two gorgeous daughters--both married. But don't worry, I haven't had a spiritual upheaval, I met this rabbi through the trip. One or two of us students are paired with a local rabbi to chat for an hour a day. It's supposed to be a Jew & A about religious issues, but for me it's really more of a game of "stump the rabbi." I couldn't. Nonetheless, we hit it off and he invited me over to his house for the weekend. Just like the last Shabbat, I ate, I slept, I ate, I pooped. That's about it. As an aside, the cab driver on the way over tried to pimp some 16 year old girls to me. Sometimes I forget that I'm in the middle east, and then shit like that happens.

But I get ahead of myself, over the last few days, I've ridden a camel, climbed a mountain, drank with the trip rabbis (alcohol is ok with the Jews, sex too), toured nature preserves, floated in the dead sea and crashed a wedding.

So, the camel was an adventure. After my horseback experience in Argentina, I'm not quite back to trusting quadripeds, but I gave it a shot. The "saddle" amounted to little more than a sheet of leather (no stir-ups), and the beast was, well, a beast. Stubborn, unpredictable, and surly. Woo hoo.


Believe me, those smiles went away very quickly.

Jewish weddings are quite a phenomenon. A friend of one of the trip rabbis got married, and we were all invited to the ceremony. You're all familiar with the glass breaking, the garter removing and the dancing, but seeing it in person was something else. The first thing that struck me was the segregation. Look at the pic, there's a divider on the dance floor separating the girls from the guys.


This is one of those situations where so many jokes rush out of my brain that they bottleneck before my fingers and nothing comes out. You can add your own commentary.

Another difference between an orthodox wedding and others is that the guests are supposed to entertain the couple, not the other way around. This was done in the form of various dances, parlor tricks, flame throwers, and beat-boxing. Yes, even Snoop Jewey Jew got in on the mix, and he was actually pretty good. Bonus: I got to see all of my teachers (local rabbis) absolutely smashed. The next day's classes were a little awkward.

Speaking of Jews and booze, a few other students and I took the head rabbi out to a Hooka bar. For those of you who don't know what a Hooka is, it's like a bong with tobacco in place of weed (not that I've ever used either). If any religion has a chance of flying with me, there are certain prerequisites that must be met, and this is definitely one of them.


Yesterday, we were woken up at 2 am to drive to an ancient mountain fort in the south of Israel. Sunrise is a popular time to climb the mountain (for good reason), and was well worth the wake up call. Take a look:






I've climbed mountains a few times before, but never in 100 degrees of serious humidity. Needless to say, I stunk like a homeless man running a marathon. To de-funk, we took a dip in the Dead sea. For someone who has never been able to float before (being skinny has a price), this was quite a religious experience. That is, until the extreme salinity devoured every opening on my body: cuts, mouth, eyes, and others that I don't need to elaborate on. But suffice it to say, I've never enjoyed a shower quite as much as the one that I took when I got out.

Afterwards, we headed to a nearby nature preserve. I snapped a few pics. Enjoy.




Ok, I think that brings us up to date. I've got a few more big days coming up, so I'll try to check in soon.

Myles

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A few thousand words about Israel

[This is post 3 of 3 for the day, so scroll down if you haven't read the others.]

A pretty standard Israeli scene: white shirts, cheap food, beautiful soldiers.


Airport or shopping mall?


Market adaptation.


Jew-itos.


A high-school field trip with assult rifles.


Where am I?


Three peoples, three languages, one powder keg.


P.S. These are the pics from a few posts ago that weren't working:

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Pant Shitting at 500 Feet

Today, in an apparent effort to scare us into prayer, the group organizers took us repelling near the Dead Sea. There's not much more to say, so take a look.

Putting things in perspective:


My sister, Arielle, for those of you that don't know her:



Some goober crapping himself:

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Terminally Undeclared

Unlike Argentina, I haven't had much free time to just sit down and write on this trip. Accordingly, my posts have been nothing more than straight-forward activity lists. Those types of posts are no fun to write, and presumable no fun to read. But I'm finally over the jet lag, so I'm going to skip a nap and explain something. I hope it's worth it.

So the story today, kids, is about the Jewish phenomenon of yeshivas. Anyone who read Chaim Potok in middle school knows about kibbutzes--essentially self-contained Jewish farm communitites. We're talking circumsized hippies, here. Yeshivas are a similar concept, just replace working with studying, and you've got it. Men of all ages come from all over the world to give up material trappings and read the Torah together. Fun stuff.

A few things probably come to mind, like where does the money come from? Kibbutzes can grow their own food, or at least make stuff to sell, but yeshivas don't make much more than introverts. The solution? Everything has a benefactor. The only thing that rich American Jews like more than Barbara Streisand is their names on shit. The Seth Berger study center. The Samuel Cohen door handle. The Abe Goldstein urinal. You get the idea.

The other thing you might be wondering is, why? I can think of a trillion things more interesting than studying ancient Jewish law, to say nothing of the no-sex issue, but the Jewish culture places a very high emphasis on learning. Hence the disproportionate number of ivy-leaguers. So, at first I though, "Wow, these guys are really into their beliefs." And a few guys training to be rabbis really are. But it seems like the vast majority of them are the type of guy that still didn't have a major by senior year. The type that gets tripped up over paper or plastic. These guys haven't decided to devote their lives to Judaism, they haven't decided shit! Here comes along a school that is not only free, but it pays you ($500-$3000/month)! The men in these centers have wives, they have kids, but they don't have jobs. Seems off to me.

Is that lightning forming?

M

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The greatest day of my life

That's it, I'm hooked.

So, for all the gentiles out there, the day of rest is serious business for the Jews. It starts at sundown on Friday, followed by a meal that could only be described as fit for a king. A really fat king. We're talking double-digit courses, huge quantities and homemade deserts.

I spent the evening with a local family, who offered me room and board for the weekend. We spent Friday evening after the meal talking and relaxing; writing, physical stress and making plans are prohibited. I could get used to this.

I woke up the next day (way into the next day) to find a giant tray of amazing pastries waiting for me. After slowly getting ready, I went to another family's house for a lunch that was just as big as the last night's dinner. This was followed by an equally huge third meal, and an evening walk through the neighborhood. I'm still full.

It's Sunday today--the start of the work week--so we're back in our routine, but I'm already counting down to next Friday. Resting this hard takes preparation.

Talk to you soon,
Myles

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Indiana Jewnes

Hi there,

Last night we toured underneath the wailing wall that I told you about yesterday. It's an active archeological site that's only been operating for the last couple of decades, but the area's amazing. Some of the tunnels were recently created, others are ancient aqueducts, and others are simply spaces between the wall and buildings that were built next to it. As we went deeper into the tunnels, we saw modern Jerusalem turn into remains of the Muslim, Christian, Roman, Herodian, and original Hebrew periods. We went hundreds of feet down below the current street level, to the level it was at in ancient times. This was some really cool, seriously historical stuff. In fact, a few years ago, when an entrance to the base of the temple mount was found, a very quiet operation was started to enter what was essentially the basement of the original temple. This is underneath a very important mosque, and the worldwide Muslim community went into an uproar, as they saw it as undermining their territorial possessions. The conflict quickly escalated, and within a day of starting the excavation, the UN had to step in to avoid another all out war. The entrance was filled with concrete, and that's how it remains today (I saw the actual gate, it's huge). The Jewish community was extremely disappointed, since they suspect some very important artifacts to be down there, like the Arc of the Covenant and the original gold menorah from the second temple (you know, the one of Hanukkah fame). This is such an important site (for several religions), and I'm pretty surprised at how close we got.

Today was spent walking around a huge Jewish marketplace as the locals got ready for Shabbat. It was just as you'd imagine, lots of black suit-clad men buying food and supplies from actively hawking merchants. Yet another step back in time. I've got a few pics, but my sister's got the camera cable, so I'll have to post them tomorrow.

Oh, wait, tomorrow is Saturday, the Jewish Sabbath, so everything in the city shuts down, especially internet cafes. The group has arranged for a bunch of the neighborhood families to take us in, which means good food, a real bed, and (this is the best part) no alarm clock. Very religious Jews don't drive, don't use computers, don't write, and don't worry, they just sit around and eat. This is one custom that I could really get behind.

M

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Holy Walls and Shady Markets

Ok, finally some time to write a decent post. I'll start from the beginning.

As I hinted at yesterday, the dorms that we're sleeping in are a bit, well, basic; but it's nothing that I haven't seen a dozen times over in hostels. However, some of the guys on this trip don't stay in hotels with less stars than they have fingers, so it's been kind of a shock for them. My room has 6 beds, a closet, a window (very important in the desert), and something that I suppose once resembled a lock. My bed's tiny, no surprise, but I was especially shocked when I jumped up - exhausted from traveling - and I was swallowed up by the bed frame. I'm on a top bunk, and the bed was missing its support board, so I fell through the beams, mattress and all. I knew that I wasn't going to last long without a board under my bed, so did what any resourceful traveler would do in this situation; I stole one. At the time, there was an empty bed, so I "borrowed" a board from one, and went to sleep. That is, until until one of those 5-star types barged into the room, dumped his bags, and turned on the lights. He turned on the lights! I was too tired to start a fight, plus I didn't want bad blood between me and someone with a key to my room. But I'll admit, I couldn't help but laugh when he got swallowed up by his board-less matress. Touché.

The next day (yesterday), with the dorm shenanagins behind me, we visited the Kotel - or wailing wall. It's all that's left of the original holy temple of ancient Jerusaluem. We're talking big time significance, here. It's like St. Peter's, Mecca, and Sarnath all wrapped up into one. Here are a few pics:


(In the backround are hugely significant mosques and churches. Only in Jerusalem. The mosque was actually built on the actual site of the Jewish temple; talk about adding insult to injury!)

This was one that I took last night (I live way close), it's packed during the day. Religious Jews believe that this is a direct line to God. No secretaries, no answering machines.


Here's an artsy fartsy one that I took while walking around the Jewish quarter.


So, last night we went out to the bars (it was my little sister's first legal drinking experience), and it was quite a site to see American tourists, Hassidic Jews, and armed, off duty soldiers all sharing brews. Only in Israel.


My sister got back to her place just fine, but my friend and I started noticing the signs changing from Hebrew to Arabic as we walked back. Uh oh. We were getting more than a little bit nervous, but it turns out that we were just in the Armenian quarter, only 7.4 on the dangerometer. We made it back just fine, but it was quite an adventure.

I actually went to a bazaar in the Arab quarter today, after hearing from a Rabbi that it's not too bad in during the day. Nonetheless, I didn't want to take out my camera, so you'll just have to use your imagination.

Well, I'm late for dinner, but I'll check back in soon.

Myles

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Shalom from Israel!

Hi all,

After a grueling 24 hours of flying, we made it here in once piece! First impression: not that scary. Tell my mom that. But don't tell her that our city tour today was accompanied by an assault-rifle carrying guard. Or that almost every single store has a metal detector and/or an armed guard. Or that heavily armed military personnel line every street. Basically, there are lots of guns here. Our dormitory (very generous use of the word) is located right in the heart of the old city neighborhood of Jerusalem. I'm pretty much sleeping in the heart of all major world religions. Amazing.

Time out. The Hassidic Jew at the computer next to me (you know the type, sideburns, hat, suit, etc.) just started bumping Lil' Jon on his computer. Hilarious. Are we really all that different?

Computers here are expensive and crappy (Mid-East, remember), so I'll keep it short, but I think a quick overview of the country is in order to bring everybody up to speed. There are several quarters of the city, aside of the obvious Jewish one. There's the Muslim one, the Christian one, and the Armenian one, in addition to a few smaller ones. All of them are separated by mediaeval-age walls, and stumbling through the wrong one is akin to wearing a Lynyrd Skynyrd shirt in Compton; you just don't do it. Technically speaking, however, Israel in not a religious state, but that's like saying technically, RuPaul is a man. The politics are run by Jews and the businesses are run by Jews. Thankfully, I can play for a few teams, so I just bring out whatever side is necessary.

The entire city is cordoned off by a giant metal security fence that separates it from the West Bank (the Palestinian quasi-state). Needless to say, just looking at the place could get me blown up.

I had a funny story about checking into the dorm, but I'm already racking up the Shekels here, so I'll save it for the next one. Talk to you all soon.

Myles

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I'm back!

Hi everybody,

After a 6-month adventure travel hiatus, I'm back on the road, and I couldn't be happier! This time, I'm off to Israel. Yes, that Israel. There are a few philanthropies that offer free (or cheap) trips to Israel for Jewish students, and I've hooked up with one of them. I'm going on one of the longer trips, the only catch is that I have to pay a little bit. However, it's a very little bit. I'm getting airfare, room and side trips paid for; my contribution pretty much equals what I'd be spending on food during the three weeks that I'll be traveling, and I'd be spending that no matter where I am. So, I'm essentially getting a free trip to the Middle East simply for being a member of the tribe. Seems like the circumcision was worth it.

I can already see the questions brewing, let me take a stab at a few of them.

Q: Wait a minute, are you even Jewish?
A: Technically yes, although anyone familiar with my level of Jeweyness knows that I'm quite a few candles short of a menorah. The thing is though, my Mom's a pure bred, so they can overlook the fact that my dad's from a Catholic family. Granted, if they knew that he's Lebanese too, they'd probably ex-jewmunicate me in a heartbeat. But we won't tell them that.

Q: But Myles, I thought you hated group travel?
A: You're right, I think that getting lost is half the fun of traveling (and I don't own any Hawaiian shirts, which appear to be compulsory). However, there's one thing that I hate more than prescribed itineraries, and it's getting blown the f up. I think I'll stick with the pros. But...

Q: Aren't you afraid of getting blown the f up?
A: Of course, but people travel to Israel all the time, and at least a few of them come back in one piece. Hopefully I'll be a lucky one. Besides, I'll be with a group, and terrorists would never strike a pack of wide-eyed American tourists. Especially if they're Jewish.

Oh man, what am I getting myself into?

I guess I'll see soon enough. Once I get there, I'll tell you more about the trip. At this point, I really don't know very much, except that it's free!

Now, what to pack...

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The last throws

Well, I made it. After a relatively uneventful day of travel, I'm safe at home, with everything intact. As promised, here is the ode to porteño culture that I promised quite some time ago. I figured that if I don't write it now, you'll never know just how much I loved the place.

1) Walk
This is immediately evident, and perhaps the most important step in becoming a true porteño. Cars are a last resort, and the ones the do use are about the size of a toaster oven. Although, in defense of our lazy asses up north, the city is set up for walking, unlike our post-Ford suburbias. Every neighborhood has a few small grocery stores that are easy walks, and bigger destinations like movie theaters, etc. are easily reached by public transportation. I've made plenty of jokes about how crazy the busses are from the outside, but once you're on one, they sure are nice.

2) Chew with your legs still
That's the best subtitle I could come up with, sorry. But the point is, when Argentines eat, they eat. They don't eat and drive, eat and walk, or eat and breath, they'd choke. They do have plenty of good conversations, though. Although, as late as they eat, that's not as nice as it sounds. I can't tell you how many times I've wanted to yell, "NO, I DON'T WANT TO TELL YOU HOW A BICAMERAL CONGRESS OPPERATES, I'M FUCKING STARVING!" But I don't, my host family's nice.

3) Throw away your watch
I've been stating at my computer screen for about 20 minutes trying to think of something funny to say about this subject, but I can't. Without getting too Socratic on you, I'd like to point out that the to-the-second time concept is a purely imagined human construct, and completely arbitrary. It's a relic from the age of trains. Before then, it was, "I'll meet you sometime after noon." These days, we North Americans coordinate our schedules with railroad precision. But it doesn't have to be that way. Imagine not having to floor the accellerator to prevent a 2 minute tardiness to school or work. Two minutes! Granted, it's nice to be able to count on someone meeting you when you expect, but at what cost?

4) Know what's virtual and what's actual
People in Argentin talk in cafés, not chatrooms. The buy their books from nice old men down the street. They see the sun. Computers aren't nearly as popular as they are in the US. The economy might have something to do with that, but I think there's a difference in the people, too.

5. Buy your bread from a baker
I kind of hinted at this with the books from old men line in the last point, but small business are much more prevalent in Argentina than anywhere else I've seen. There are plenty of huge chains, both domestic and international, but they are the minority. There's a noticeable difference in the quality of food and products made by someone passionate about their work. Starbuck's hasn't broken into Argentina, yet. I was initially very surprised at that, since coffee is such a huge part of the culture, but the people are very loyal to their corner cafés, and the same can be said about the full spectrum of businesses.

6. PDA
Woah, I'm getting dangerously close to legitimacy, I think it's time for some boobies. I can't tell you how many personal displays of affection that I've seen over the course of the last several months. Old people holding hands on a walk, young couples picknicking in the park, teenagers sucking face on the busses, the list goes on and on. In general, the culture is just a bit more open than ours, and people do what they want to.

7) Moderation, moderation, moderation
This one might also be tied to the economy, but I think it's more of a cultural issue. And I don't just mean food, buy the way. I went to a computer store the other day for some CD-Rs to burn my photos onto, and the attendant asked me if I'd like them with cases or without, and I said without, so he went behind the counter and brought me back a single CD! It was actually all I needed, and was a nice surprise to not have to buy the 25+ spindles like in the US. There are a million other little stories like this, and the cumulative effect is obvious.

Of course, they don't have it all together; there's litter everywhere, the economy's junk, and they have very little regard for the lives of pedestrians. But all things considered, it's a wonderful place, and I would recommend it to anyone.

Well, that does it. This is my final posting for a while. It's the end of an adventure, or as I like to think, the beginning of the next. But don't worry, I'll be back; I have a habit of getting myself in interesting situations, I think that it's the only way to live. My next adventure is getting into med school, and that'll probably keep me away from the blog. But the next time I find myself with a story worth telling, you'll be the first to know, I promise. Talk to you all soon.

M

Rescued!

I'm happy to report that I've made it safely to Buenos Aires! The pilot strike hasn't ended, but late last night, we were sent a giant 747 to bring back most of the stranded passengers to Buenos Aires. I tell you, it was like the last flight out of Saigon. When it was spotted in the air on its way over, everyone ran to the window, some took pictures, and I saw at least two teary eyes. Once gates opened, people started shoving their way on to the plane, fighting over seats, and yelling at the crew. It was madness, but when we landed, there was quite a collective sigh of relief and a round of applause for the pilot. I'm still not sure who that could have been, though, since supposedly no one's flying, but whoever it was did a great job getting us back! And I'm here just in time for my 10pm flight home.

Speaking of which, it still feels weird to be leaving. Six months is a long time to be away from the people you care about, and I'm very much looking forward to being home again, but I had a little twang of nostalgia as we flew into Buenos Aires last night. This has been an amazing experience, and I'm going to have so many wonderful memories for the rest of my life. Sorry, but I think I'm allowed one sentimental posting.

Next time I write, I'll be paying with dollars. Talk to you then!

M

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Stuck at the end of the world

What some might call an inconvenience, I call a vacation extension.

Remember that pilot strike that I alluded to yesterday? Well, it just turned serious. What started out as a 50% reduction in flights (not affecting the company branch that runs my route), turned into a complete company shut down overnight. The union said that the strike will run until at least Tuesday, and the airline has responded by placing several newspaper ads calling the group a criminal organization that often resorts to threats and violence to achieve its demands. Only in Argentina. At least I took the "Argenfactor" into consideration when I booked the ticket. I still have two days until my flight back to the US on Wednesday, but it could be close.

About an hour ago, this was shaping up to be a cranky posting, but I just got back from dinner, compliments of Aerolineas Argentinas. They also gave me a room voucher that I could redeem at the hotel of my choosing. Needless to say, I'm sleeping on quite a few stars. And a box spring, something I haven't seen for 6 months. I also haven't seen a door lock or in-room electricity in a while, either. Let me tell you, there is a heaven, and it has a great view of the mountains.

I'm going to take this opportunity to offer some of my observations on travel methods in South America. I had been saving them for their own posting, but this one is as appropriate as any. Since we're already on the subject, I'll start with the air. I'm not going to bring up the strike again--because it's been said--and because it's equally likely in any industry; the economy's pretty fickle. However, there is one holiday promotion offered by the primary air carrier in Latin America (TACA) that I find particularly amusing. It offers, and I quote, "1) Our guarantee that at least two pieces of your checked baggage will arrive on the same flight that you do. [This seems like it should be assumed, but maybe that's just me] And if for any reason it doesn’t, we’ll make up for it by giving you a coupon worth $50 off future transportation! 2) Our guarantee that your excess baggage or boxes checked as baggage will be delivered to you within six days of your arrival at your destination." Six days, woo hoo! This is a promotion, mind you, after Dec. 12, anything goes.

City buses and taxis are equally treacherous to the pedestrian, but at least I feel somewhat safe inside the former. Being in the latter is strikingly similar to the wild ride of Mr. Toad, except he had a seat belt.

Long haul buses, my recent specialty, are nothing to set a watch by. The also make airplanes look quite appealing, even now. For instance, my guidebook had recommended one particular company that I used for my first trip out of Buenos Aires. It departed late, arrived later, had uncomfortable seats (and too many of them), a misanthropic driver, an even meaner passenger attendant, and food that was only rivaled in its lack of taste by its lack of substance. All in all, not my most pleasurable Argentine memory. I thought that, for the first time, my guidebook had missed a recommendation. Then I took another company.

Alright, that's all the ranting I'm going to do tonight, I've got to get up early for an exciting day of begging gate agents to stick me in the cargo hold. But first, I'm going to go run around my room naked, order some room service, take a hot shower, and steal a few towels. Talk to you soon.

M

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Adventures at the end of the world

Here's what I've been up to in Ushuaia.

On Friday, I explored Ushuaia and visited a few museums. The best one in town is the museum of the ex-prison. This is the interesting history that I alluded to earlier. Ushuaia got its start as an Argentine penal colony, kind of like the Australia of South America. The prison was as fortified as Alcatraz (with less escapees, actually), but the irony is that the prisoners were allowed, and often encouraged, to work in the town. The reasoning was that if they wanted to escape, there's no where to go. Look at a map, the very southernmost region of the continent is a series of islands with freezing water surrounding them. And while you're looking, you'll notice that, at the moment, I'm as close to the south pole as I am to Buenos Aires. I thought that news was kind of interesting.

That evening, I bought a boat ticket for a lap around the Beagle canal, named after the boat in which Charles Darwin sailed here. It's filled with the type of isolated islands that Darwin used to justify his theories on evolution. The most notable were a colony of sea lions, and several others with interesting species of birds. I never thought that I'd use interesting and birds in the same sentence (other than "that bird tasted interesting"), but the ones down here are really bizarre. Nothing like the crap bombers I'm used to seeing in the US.

Next day, Saturday. Along with an Italian guy and a French girl from the hostel, I explored the Tierra Del Fuego National park. It had been raining all throughout the previous night, and sporadically that day, so the place was extremely muddy. I just about lost my boots several times. We'd be walking along a trail, and the 80 lb. Italian guy would do a little jig across a wet spot, and the French girl would hop along with equal aplomb, then I'd come along with all the finesse of an elephant in free fall and be up to my waist in seconds. I'm still filthy.


Today. I went to a chairlift to view the local glacier, but it was down for repairs, so my friend-of-the-day and I decided to climb up ourselves. And once we reached the viewpoint, we decided to keep going. So I've finally done it, I've climbed a glacier. Now, this isn't the Bs As on ice that you saw last week, it was more like a high altitude snow river. But, combined with the freshly falling snow, I felt like quite the adventurer. We went up incredibly high, well past any marked paths and intelligent stopping points. In retrospect, it probably wasn't the best idea, but we made it back and had a ton of fun. Take a look.


Click here to see how we got down.

I have a ticket back to Bs As tomorrow, but there's a pilot's strike going on right now, so we'll have to see what happens. Either way, I'm sure glad not to be taking a bus back. It took me a combined 70 hours to get here, and I'm ready for a flight! I'll let you know how it goes.

M

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I hope I don't fall off!

I've arrived at the end of the world! Ushuaia, Argentina is the southernmost city on the planet in the province of Tierra del Fuego. Land of the fire, my ass, I'm freezing! It's absolutely gorgeous, tough.

Sorry, I don't have any coherent story planned, but I'd like to fill you in on my day.

The bus ride involved a ferry trip (the bus just drove onto a boat!) in which we were surrounded by playful dolphins. The scenery was desolate but strangely alluring. It reminded me of Dr. Suess's book "The Lorax", after the factory comes to town.

The bus's pit stop was at a bakery in which there was a sort of mini-zoo exhibiting the local fauna. It was one room with several small animals wandering around. It's about time I saw some beaver!

Ahem, sorry.

The bus eventually emerged from the strange anti-forest to reveal a quaint coastal fishing town with an interesting history. More on that later.

The internet cafe is playing a smooth jazz cover of Marley's "Redemption Song". That settles it, I've heard it all.

Ok, I'm off to bed, there's a lot to do tomorrow!

M

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Mountain Myles

Hi everyone,

My second day in El Calafate was spent navigating the glacial lakes of the region. At least, that's what I think happened. Nothing knocks me out faster than a boat trip on rolling waters, especially when I'm as sleep deprived as I am now. It was pretty much just an expensive nap punctuated with amazing scenery. Here's a sample:


I'm not doing a full day boat trip justice by describing it in three sentences, but I'm excited to tell you about the rest of the week, so here goes.

I had signed up for a highly recommended overnight trip across the Chilean border to see the Torres del Paine national park. But when I got back from the boat trip, the hostel staff told me that there weren't enough people going, and the trip was cancelled. I wasn't too upset, since the trip cost a lot of money (hostel-organized trips usually do). It was $200, which may not seem like a ton, but it goes a very long way down here. Plus, after singing up, I heard that the relatively undiscovered Argentine side of the same mountain range was even more spectacular. So there I was, with two newly-free days, and itching for an adventure. There wasn't any time to waste, so that night I bought a ticket for an early bus to El Chalten, the base camp for exploring the mountains. Even though the majority of the 4 hour trip was along a dirt road, I slept like a baby.

I got in around lunch time to the smallest town I've ever seen (Argentina's newest, by the way). There was just one road with a scattering of hostels, restaurants, and outdoor stores. I had a backpack full of food--no surprise--but I didn't have any other camping gear to speak of. Thankfully, the weather was surprisingly pleasant. (The night before, my German hostel roommates told me of their experience, "Yaah, zee vehzer vas haribul".)

I asked around for a camping store, and one was recommended as having good prices. I should have asked for one with good equipment, but that's another lesson learned. I rented a tent, a sleeping bag, and a ground pad. $10, total.

I set off around 2, alone, but it wasn't too long before I found my first hiking buddy, another German. The weather was absolutely spectacular, and the views were even better. Take a look:


We hiked into the park for a couple of hours until he had to turn back; he wasn't camping. I forged ahead, again solo, with only one semi-serious episode of "where the hell am I?" Around 7 or so, I found the campsite that I was looking for and began to set up my gear. Remember, I was fresh off of running up a mountain with the Italian national team, so I had began to think of myself as a regular Sir Edmund Hillary. This is the mindset I was in when I started constructing my comically undersized mancoon of a tent, so you can imagine my frustration at taking almost an hour to put it together. It was a crappy tent, already in rough shape, but my ineptitude just about destroyed it. Notice the duct tape.


Embarrassed by showing just how much of a greenhorn I was, I sheepishly looked around, expecting army grade gear and rugged, trail-worn faces. What I saw were otherwise peaceful people just about at blows with their camping partners over which piece goes where. I wasn't alone.

A Belgian guy that was on my boat trip recognized me and came over to chat. He was an interesting guy that's been all over the world, but what really held my attention was his camping stove. The sun was starting to set, cooling off the forest dramatically. Not to mention, the campsite was right at the snowline, so it got pretty chilly. Besides, the can of creamed corn that I brought for dinner would have tasted awful if I ate it cold.

Once night fell, an amazing day quickly turned into a harrowing night. After making plans with the Belgian, I retired to my "tent" to discover that the sleeping bag that I had rented barely made it up to my nipples. And it stunk. By this point, the sun had completely set and I was violently shaking, wondering how bad things might get. Now, for those of you who have never warded off hypothermia at high altitude, it puts some pretty crazy ideas into your head. First one: I could borrow the Belgain's camping stove and build the world's most poorly placed space heater. That one didn't stick around too long, don't worry. At the same time, I wasn't yet comfortable enough with my Belgian buddy to ask to share his tent, but the idea did cross my mind. What I ended up settling on was putting on every piece of clothing that I had brought. Two shirts, two socks, two pairs of boxers (ever so important), pants, a fleece, and a windbreaker. I had even considered putting on my shoes, but they wouldn't have fit in my sleeping bag.

Somehow, I managed to fall asleep for a few minutes (a testament to how tired I was), but even then, my mind was playing games with me. I had the most vivid dream of an early sunrise and a warm morning, and was halfway out of my tent before I realized what happened. And I wasn't happy about it. I didn't really fall asleep until after the sun came up, only to wake up to the alarm clock that I forgot to turn off. The morning wasn't much better than the night, so I literally ran laps around the campsite to warm up while waiting for my friend to rise. He had his own gear, so his peaceful, warm slumber was cut short by a temporarily insane Myles violently shaking his tent. I still don't feel sorry for him.

Our hike that morning warmed me up quite well. The prize of the park is a 500 meter trek to the closest and best viewpoint of the giant granite cliffs you saw in the background of the last photo. But here's the kicker, the altitude change was also just about 500 meters, so it was like climbing 5 football fields' worth of stairwells. It was tough. But, as is the theme, the view was well worth the effort. The climb led to a secluded lake that had formed in the crater on the side of one of the mountains. Imagine reaching the summit of a very tough hike and immediately being surrounded with more natural beauty than you've ever thought possibe. Giant granite cliffs, a water fall, a secluded lake, snow capped mountains and wind swept plains all in one amazing panarama. The photos don't do it justice.



The afternoon consisited of a relatively calm hike back, which was entirely resisted by my exhausted legs, but I made it back. A cup of tea, a nap on the bus, and a warm shower had never sounded so good. Now, if anyone's wondering, it had been 4 tough days since my last bathing, so I was like human paint thinner Not that I'm bragging.

I've got one more tale to tell, but it's mostly pictures, so I might as well include them in this posting. Yesterday was spent on the ground, touring of the world's only non-receding glacier, Perito Moreno. It's the size of Buenos Aires, and absolutely incredible, take a look:





Tonight, I'm off to the end of the world, talk to you then!

M

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90 pesos to run up a f*ing mountain?

Wow, where to start?

I set off for Rio Gallegos from Puerto Madryn several days ago on an overnight bus that shouldn't have taken more than 18 hours, but for some reason, the police were out in full force. Almost every bus I've ever been on has had to pass through a police checkpoint at some time along the journey. Generally, they're just a bureaucratic relic from the days of military dictatorships, but they were actually used this trip. Thrice. Police stormed the bus each time and asked for everyone's papers and recorded the passengers on board. Because of this, and an unusually late departure (even for this country), I arrived at my destination 6 hours late. So I missed my connection and had to kill the day in the capital city of the Santa Cruz province. Way less interesting than it sounds. I did meet a few interesting travellers, though. Catching the last bus, I arrived in El Calafate, Argentina at 1am with 2 shirts, one fleece, one windbreaker, and a pair of shoes. Not much, considering that this city is generally regarded as the glacier capital of the world. After a very solid slumber, I woke up early and asked the staff at my hostel for a few good side trips. The first one was a trek up to a very scenic vista overlooking the city. It included dinner and departed that afternoon.

I was picked up at my hostel by some employees of the estancia that hosted the hike. Looking around the bus, I realized that I had again met up with another branch of the traveling geriatrics. Wonderful. I wondered what kind of "adventure" could be in store for me and the octogenarians. We stopped at a few other hostels, at one point picking up a guy who was probably in his lower thirties. Even though he looked Italian, I was at least happy to have someone to relate with, if not speak the same language. It turns out, though, that we ended up picking up his wife downtown, so I was once again the lone ranger.

We arrived at the estancia around 6pm (no problem, since the sun doesn't set until 10:30 this far south). It turns out that there were several options to reach the vista. Most of the other travelers went off to the horse stables or Land Rovers, but the Italian couple and I stuck around to climb up on our own power. This is where things started getting ugly.

So, our guide turned out to be an Argentine professional basketball player, so of course he's in shape. And the couple? They're two members from the Italian Alps professional mountain climbing team scouting out locations for their next practice center. And then there's me, the out of shape yankee exchange student who's been sucking down cows' legs for the past six months. They hauled ass. To make things worse, I was lugging around my backpack, since I didn't have a lock to store it in my room. We scaled the first 1000 meters (of altitude change, not trail length) in thirty minutes. For those of you that think in yards, that's fast! And for the kicker, the guide asked us if we wanted to run the last 300. Sergio and Monica didn't even need to think about their answer, so all three heads immediately turned to me. Of course I was going to say yes; I'm a guy, mildly competitive, and full of myself. I thought I could handle it. What followed is a little fuzzy, but I can remember thinking, "and I'm paying for this shit?!" All jokes aside, though, the view at the top was well worth the effort, but I'll let you decide.



And yes, that's a skull in my hand. I found it on the way up. It's probably a puma. I had to leave it behind, though, it was smelling up my backpack, and I definitely don't need any help with that.

Ok. I've got a whole day to kill before my 3am bus out of here, so I'm going to go get some lunch and give you a chance to digest this. I'll be back in a bit with the best part of the week.

M

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Hang in there

I've been accumulating quite a few stories over the last couple of days in El Calafate. [Sneak preview: the Italian mountain climbing team, police searches, missed bus, wild cattle, and a 3 hour tour that lasted almost as long as Gilligan's.] Unfortunately, I've got neither the time nor internet connection to relate them all just yet. As it is, I've hiked for an hour to find the only internet cafe in town, and I'm being charged a rate appropiate for house rental on the beach. So I've got to keep it brief. Not to mention, I've got get ready for a a 7 am bus that will take me to an even more remote part of Patagonia for an overnight hike. I'll be alone, rediculusly underprepared, and undoubtedly starving, so I should have a few more stories by the time I return. Before you get too worried, Mom, there will be plenty of other hikers out on the trail, I just won't know any of them. Wish me luck.

M

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¡Muchos penguinos!

That about sums up my day! A group of people from the hostel and I set out for Punto Tombo, Argentina, the largest penguin reserve in the world. Now, before you get your hopes up, all 1,200,000 of them weren't agregated in a giant waddling herd, as I expected. They are during part of the year, but this is the month when the babies are born. The familes stray from the herd and pick a piece of the tundra to hatch their eggs, so visitors can see them up close. Really close, as in a momentary lapse in concentration means you're going to step on one. Well, on with the show. Enjoy.

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One less joke

Well, I've got to cross one joke off my list. The hostel is finally getting a younger clientele; It must have been a tour group or something. Either way, I'm no longer the baby of the place. I'm still in a minority though, since about every country is represented here, even Australia. That's how you can tell a travel destination is really world class. If they're going to pay the $2000 to get off their island, they're going to be damn sure it's worth it. Americans (the northern variety) travel more than anyone in the world, but we really don't know our ass from the Eiffel tower. That's to say is that Americans travel on reputation and buzz factor more than actual destination worthiness. My recommendation: go to Argentina!

Ok, I shouldn't wander, there's plenty to talk about today. I woke up early again to head out for a tour along the coast. It started out with a quick bus ride to the water to meet a whale watching boat. And let me tell you, Greenpeace was right, Willy's really got something going for him. We also saw sea lions, penguins, seals, and dolphins. I'd really love to show you a picture of the last group, but they're quick little suckers. They were swimming alongside our boat and jumping out of the water for a few entertaining minutes. Of course, most of these species are just a few Captain Ahabs away from extinction. I'm not going to go on a big diatribe, because I sure do love sushi, but the planet's oceans are in worse shape that its forests, so lets give them a break.

We spent the afternoon checking out another interesting ecosphere, but from the land. It was a unique beach formation that seals love to play on. I debated making up some bullshit about how they form, but I don't even know enough to make stuff up. Besides, I know a few marine biologists that might be reading this. I'd better just show some photos.


This is it, but I'm not sure what it's called. It sure is cool, though.


And another one.

(Technical difficulties on this one, sorry)

The obligatory whale one, although it was a bit harder to take one of these guys (actually girls, mother and daughter) because they kept moving. They really could have flipped our boat if they wanted.


This photo is of one of the largest, most beautiful specimens of its kind. And of a big fossil, too. Did anyone not see that coming?

I should have some good penguin ones tomorrow.

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A little exploring

Hi everybody,

I woke up today to the geriatric society popping in their teeth around 7am. S-E-V-E-N. How do these people live like this?! But it did allow me to get in a full day of exploring.

I went to a small Welsh settlement called Trelew, where there was a surprisingly well developed dinosaur museum. And that's about it. But at least it allowed me to get a feel for the area and plan out the next couple of days. I travelled with one of my roommates that had the same plans for today. Besides, we thought that us young ones should stick together. She's 50. And don't give me a hard time, or call me Oedipus, there are slim pickings for travel buddies. She actually turned out to be pretty cool, though. She's an Argentine doctor from Bs. As. that is interested in natural remedies, so we had plenty of things to talk about. We spoke in Spanish all day, which was great practice.

I've got a few pics from the museum that I'll post as soon as I can. Tomorrow's going to be a very cool day, so I'll post any whale photos that I can get.

I'm tying up the only computer in a big hostel, so I'd better keep this short. I don't want to keep grandpa up too late. Talk to you all tomorrow.

Myles

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And I'm off

Well, I've safely arrived at my first destination, Puerto Madryn, Argentina. It's a small fishing town with the bluest water I've ever seen. I'm in love with the place, and I haven't even gone whale-watching yet. My hostel is clean, quiet, and safe, which begs one question: where the fuck am I? My apologies the easily bothered readers out there, but if you saw this place, you'd be just as confused. The first thing I noticed (and really my only point of discontent) is that I'm the youngest person here. By a lot. I just came back from dinner with a group of women old enough to have given birth to me. (That's to say, about 35-40, right Mom?) This is the weirdest hostel dynamic I've ever seen. It's really more like a retirement center with ash trays. Don't get me wrong, it really is a nice place, it's just not...well, fun. That's probably not a bad thing--since I'm here for the nature, and there will be plenty of time for that. Actually though, an early bed time is fine with me, I slept about 20-30 seconds on the bus over here. To give you some perspective as to what it takes to keep me up, I've slept through three earthquakes and a tornado. It was quite a bumpy one. As such, I'm way too wiped out to carry this posting much further, but I'm got some cool things planned, and I'll keep you posted.

M

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Woo hoo!!!

Hey everybody,

There's no better feeling for a college student than the one that comes after turning in your last final of the semester. Except, perhaps, the one that comes the day you leave for a three week trek through Patagonia. Lucky me!

After a week marked with awkward goodbye dinners and one-upping comparisons of travel plans, I'm off. Well, not quite; I'm sitting in the bus terminal, but I'll be on my way soon enough. I'm planning on seeing the biggest glaciers in the world, the southernmost city in the world, and the largest migration of penguins in the world. Without, of course, amounting the biggest debt in the world.

I don't have time to go into too much detail, but after i arrive at my first destination (a mere 24 hours from now), I'll post something that does the location justice. Talk to you all then!

Myles

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I'm really not in Kansas, anymore

Buenos Aires is just modern enough to occasionally trick me into complacency, and I forget that I'm really in another culture. And then there are times when the shock winds up and slaps me in the face. Last night was one of them. I went to the graduation dance of my host sister's high school, the closest equivalent we have up north is the prom, but going into it with that expectation was what really floored me.

The "prom" was held in a standard disco that had closed its doors to the public that night. It started at 10, so of course we didn't even leave until 11. By we, I mean the whole family; it's for everyone, not just the students. There was supposed to be food, so I didn't eat, which left me absolutely starving by the time the tiniest ham and cheese sandwiches I've ever seen were served at midnight. I lost count of exactly how many I ate, but it was much closer to triple digits than I'd like to admit.

The sandwiches were part of a cocktail-type setting, with the families all chatting with each other. That was pretty ho-hum for me, since I didn't know any of them, but there was a little comic relief when a long lost friend of my host family came up to me and was absolutely astounded with how much I'd grown. Then I pointed her in the direction of my significantly shorter host brother. Her guffawed response was enough to keep me chuckling for the rest of the night.

Around 1, all the students piled into decorated buses to take a lap of the city while shouting out their accomplishment. I've seen a few of these buses cruising the city before, so it was nice to know that wasn't just me choosing the wrong tour company. While they were gone, the parents and siblings went to a nearby bar to kill time until the students returned. It wasn't to hard to hear their return, and ran to meet them at the club. One girl was too drunk to make it off the bus, and once my host dad/doctor made sure she was ok, all the parents gave her a hard time. She'll be pretty embarrassed when she goes back to school.

At this point most of the parents went home to at least get an hour of sleep before work. My host siblings and I went back to the club to hang out with the students for a bit, and it looked more like a riot than any school dance I've ever seen. There was a hired group that was pounding beats out on marching drums with all of the students dancing around them. If anyone's seen footage of a Brazilian carnival, you know what it looked like. Then the band gave way to a DJ, and the place turned into an normal (invite only) club. We only hung around for a bit longer, since the people I was with actually did stuff during the day, but it was a lot of fun. Considering that my host sister hadn't woken up by the time I left the house at 4 (I didn't rise too early, myself), I'd be really surprised if it ended a second before 7am. I'd like to see that at my high school!

M

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