la ciudad perdida

for those of you tuning in for pictures, i regret to inform you that i am a dumbass and left the cable to connect my camera to the computer at home. ¡doh! however, not to fret, i should be able to back up the pictures to disc soon...

upon arrival into santa marta, colombia, i immediately acquired three travelling companions via the hostel i was staying at. los cuatros amigos; we span hemispheres east and west with eyal from israel, charles from australia, and alyssa and myself representing the states. i met all of them within 12 hours of checking in, part nature of independent travel and part incredible luck. we set out the next day for a week long ¨trek¨into the sierra nevada mountains of santa marta en route to la ciudad perdida (the lost city).

these sort of tours are inbred with all types of awkwardness. this is bound to happen when you unite ten strangers for a week of spending every waking moment together. and unawaking moment.

awkwardness of too much silence. awkwardness of saying too much. awkwardness of being naked in front of strangers. awkwardness of bathing naked under a cold, cold shower in front of strangers. awkwardness of almost peeing on a tour guide. awkwardness of being farted on by a tour guide. awkwardness of walking through somebody elses home while they are trying to go about their daily lives.

the lost city was originally constructed over a period of about 80 years in the 8th century by a tribe, the tayronas, emigrating from central america. it´s an incredible feat when you see it and imagine the strenuous work it must have taken. to clear massive amounts of jungle, construct intricate paths and stairways and terraces using stones i would need a crane to lift. the tayronas were an extremely intelligent and advanced tribe, nowhere to be found today, after their disappearance in the 16th century during the spanish invasion. many of their secrets, including how to extract an acid from the indigenous plants to cut clean through rock and the extraction of natural dyes, were taken with their flight. modern day archeologists still study the land in an attempt to unveil some of the majestic knowledge.

while the tayronas have checked out, there is still an indiginous population living among the sierra nevadas, the main tribe being the quoguis (sp?). often times during the hike, we would stumble through the middle of their villages or interrupt the walking path of a few tribe members. i couldn´t help but feel like an asshole when giving the touristy toned ¨hola¨while they stepped aside for our group to stomp onward. (permission was granted by the tribe to the government for tourists to enter, but its still an awkward feeling). i asked once for a photo and was denied, so i will not be able to give you a concentrated image.

while the first couple of days were an inevitable uncomfortable ¨feeling out¨period, the group meshed pretty well after that. an average age of about 25, with australian, u.s.a., canadian, swedish and israeli members.

when i worked a couple of summers as a lifeguard in high school, there was an inordinate amount of ¨chill¨time. this led way to playing a number of childish, and hilarious, games. one of which was called ¨date, dump, fuck.¨ someone will throw out a list of three names, usually of the opposite sex of the players, and the contestants will align the names with the title of the game accordingly. at the pool, it was a kind of way to gossip, to find out who liked who - oooooo.

while the views are spectacular with water falls raining, strange bugs crawling and lush green mountain sides at every turn, there is still a silence that we want to fill every now and again. we play the australian and more extreme version - marry, shoot, fuck. a little bold, but we´ll go with it. since nobody knows anybody´s personal life (thankfully), the hat of names to pick from includes all sorts of genres; celebrities, superheros, villains, cartoons... most difficult proposition - hillary clinton, condoleeza rice and margaret thatcher. still have chills. 20 questions was the other go to, in which i found out australian actor heath ledger died recently. this is everything i know about current events.

our guide, ali, was perfection. since he lives in the mountains with his family, he could walk the trails blind if he wanted. he slowed his spanish for the silly gringos, allowing us to understand most of his historical monologues (i think?), guided each of us with outstretched arm over difficult points of the trail, continually gathered fresh fruit for mid-hike snacks, set up camp and cooked. every meal. his wage; $20. for the whole week. we made sure to line his pockets heavily at the trip´s end.

the highlight of the hike, for me, came on our day to tour the ruins. it was an in between moment. the last stop on the tour was the proclaimed fountain (waterfall) of youth. some dove in the miniature pool, some stayed out. i opted for in as my one thousand mosquito bites needed a refreshment. ali suited up and joined the fun. while everyone was getting out, ali turns to me and asks, ¿quieres ver la cascada más más alta? es muy peligrosa. do you want to see the much higher waterfall? it´s very dangerous.

DONE.

jesus, if ali had not been there, it would have been my funeral, for sure. the guy was bounding from moss covered jungle rock to vine to fallen tree limb like a god damn jungle cat. he would climb 10 ft. in 2 seconds and then look back down at me and laugh at my dumbfounded mouth, gaping open. a few times, i would got stuck climbing and ali would have to help me out. ali is about 5´7¨, buck sixty, MAYBE. i am 6´ 200 lbs. he lifted me like i was made of bamboo. we rose some 50 or 60 feet to get a glimpse of what nobody else got to see on the trip - a bigger and more intensified version of the waterfall, with not a peson in sight. una aventura magnifica.

i am in cartagena, colombia now, falling on the other side of the travel coin. i have not met anyone and am staying in somewhat of the dodgy part of town. my room resembles that of tom hanks´ on his first night in the city in the film, ¨big¨. however, the city´s center is filled with stunning spanish architecture still standing from centuries ago, so it will make for a nice stroll.

my spanish has been atrocious and as for comprehending the natives - oh boy. a bit fast for little mikey. but it´s slowly coming back to me and i hope to actually finish a conversation, clearly, by the time i return to the states.

guys; roseanne barr, bea arthur and barbara walters. go.
gals; george bush, dick cheney and john mccain. go.

be good,
michael

dreaming and driving (just go)

new year's day, 2008.

the holiday and snow's redemption for a week late arrival has reserved all lanes for one and allows my mind to drift. somewhere across town, phil is no doubt driving with driver's side window down, unnecessarily sporting thick black wraparound sunglasses and violently shaking his head to lcd soundsystem. oh, and of course, right hand on the wheel while the left is pumping like a piston out the window.

the last time i saw phil, three months ago in chicago, he was covered neck to knee in denim, screeching "debra" in his best beck falsetto at six oc'lock in the morning with a mean sweat-fall running from his chin down to a frightened female party goer. if she hadn't passed out and/or gone deaf by mid song, she surely succumbed to both by song's end. i cannot remember which. poor girl.

phil has chutzpah.

today, phil is returning and recovering from a two month road trip across big sky country and the u.s. pacific west (see: philiplauri.blogspot.com). i mention recovering because, to be quite honest, you looked like dog shit, phil; week old grizzly stubble, matted down mullet and unbrushed teeth for god knows how long. okay, MAYBE i'm exaggerating. maybe. the jist of our conversation in a desolate mcdonald's booth, drinking shitty coffee and tasting the childhood in my mcnuggets:

phil: how are you? what are you up to? what 's next?

me: you look awful

phil: (mildly annoyed laughter) seriously, how's it going?

me: seriously. you look awful. things are alright, i guess. waiting tables, passing time. i want to travel. i want to go to south america. mark and i trying to go for a few weeks in march.

phil: why don't you just go now?

me: huh?

phil: just go! jesus, if you feel you need to go, then damn it man, just go. everything else is bologna and cheese. (phil did not actually say bologna and cheese, however, it being a staple phrase of the man, i felt obligated to include it here)

good call, phil. i'm not certain why it took him making this simple and obvious statement for me to fly south. either way, four days later, i booked a one way flight to santa marta, colombia. the idea is to eventually make it to ushuaia, argentina, but, things can, and inevitably will, change. i hope to update this blog as frequently as my travels allow to let you know i'm alive and where i have been.

i will be meeting up with some friends along the way and by all means, if you are reading this and happen to be paying a visit to south america, please let me know!

why the long travel? why south america? why????

these seem to be the most common questions. i could say its simply an escape from "normal" life. or an extension of a previously planned vacation (although, i don't really think of this as a vacation as much as an education). or an attempt to re-learn the spanish language. or to see if there is any nook i can fit into on that continent for more than a few months. or that i will be damned if i don't see as much of the world as i can while i can.

it's a combination of all those things and more. i don't think i can give a straight forward response because the biggest reason is probably that i don't know why. a lot of it comes from the gut. there are some magnificent destinations in my sights, but by and large, i am most anxious for the in betweens. the ups and downs. the unknowns. and there are a lot.

i can't say that i'll find what i'm looking for, what the hell that even means, or that i am even looking for anything at all.

i can say that travelling is an excellent thing. that it allows my mind to stretch to a place and perspective that it otherwise could not reach. that my curiosities are outweighing my fears.

what i can say, today, is that i don't much remember the drive home from mcdonald's, except for a stupid face-encompassing grin and day dreams floating heavily as the flakes. half quenching the curiosity those dreams are soaked with seemed like a good enough reason to take off. el cuento proximo sera de suramerica. if you made it this far, thanks for reading.
be good, michael