Saturday, November 17, 2007
Messing around on the interweb and I came across this.... We haven't been traveling internationally much much since our trip to Latin America. we've taken a couple of western US road trips though. The picture to the left was taken in Oregon this summer near Bend. So anyways, to the inspiration for this post....
Below are two maps of all the countries first me and then Raegan have visited. How lucky are we? Of course traveling is not about the tally. It's about experience. In a few months we're dusting off our passports and heading to Mexico City. It won't add any red to either of our maps. But for a few short days we will be able to listen, taste, smell, see, and experience life in one of the biggest cities in the world!
Jacob's map:
create your own visited country map
or check our Venice travel guide
Raegan's map:
create your own visited country map
or check our Venice travel guide
Thursday, January 27, 2005
A week ago I hadn’t worn socks for weeks. Our time on the island of Roatan, about 50 miles off the coast of Honduras, was well spent. Raegan and I worked on our tans beside clear Caribbean waters by day and drank rum with folks from the islands, mon, by night. Today I am in a 4th floor apartment in the west-village, Manhattan. It is loud and it is cold and it is expensive and my skin is getting dryer and whiter by the second. What happened?
I’ll tell you….
Latin America is in my rearview. We finished off our trip with a visit to a Mayan ruin and a week on the beach. Were we sad to leave? Not really. The island was wonderful, relaxing, beautiful, and more, but our trip had run its course. As our date of departure neared, we felt more and more at ease with all that we had accomplished and with the fact that our trip would soon end. Rather than dreading the date we spent the closing days thinking over the last year and getting increasingly excited about our return home. We’d look at each other every once and a while and say, “I can’t believe we did it!” And we’d speculate about what it’d be like to, for the first time in a long time, spend time with people who know us. Now we know. And it’s nice, really nice.
Our trip home (to the US from the island) represented a new record for us: eight vehicles in one day. It went like this: taxi to airplane to airplane to bus to train to bus to airplane to the biggest SUV ever! Welcome to America.
As many of you know we chose to do an east coast swing before heading back to California. It’s been great. It’s allowed us a chance to see family and friends, and to take culture shock dose after dose. We started off in Herndon, Virginia, a suburb of D.C. with my cousin’s family, the Baylor’s. We couldn’t have had a softer landing pad. We relaxed, watched football, ate leftovers and were treated to a home-cooked meal. I scratched my head a little at our beloved game of football. But besides that, our only real culture-shock moment for the day was on our trip to the “new”, Wal-mart sized grocery store. When we walked in to the hangar-come-store, the woman behind us was so overwhelmed by what she saw, she gasped to her friend, “Oh my god,” who responded, “Isn’t it beautiful?” We too were impressed with the selection and quality of the fare on hand. So much so that were stood in the way of the shopping carts of others, jaws agape, paralyzed. We didn’t calm down until we were buckled in and watching a Gilligan’s Island episode on the DVD player in the back half of the SUV on the way home.
Next was D.C. and the inauguration really put a crimp on our plan to ignore the results of the election for as long as humanly possible. Tina also treated us to the comforts of home. In this case it was new toothbrushes, cheesy poofs, good beer, and a Neil Diamond CD. But most importantly, Tina asked us a gazillion questions about our trip. Whenever she saw our eyes glassing over, falling into a culture shock coma, she would ask us how we acquired dental floss along the way. Or she’d ask something trivial. All jokes aside, this question-asking tactic worked wonders. Besides being interviewed we also walked around the mall, but we kept tripping over sand bags and falling in bunkers. Besides it was damn cold. Off to Baltimore….
Paul and Amy kept the hospitality train rolling. We caught up with Tim, who cooked a mean curry, and Mike and had so much fun we started planning the next reunion. Raegan saw the city for the first time and really liked it. We met a certain Olympian. We ate in dinners, drank beers in dives and had a crab feast in a strip mall. Very Baltimore, very America. We had a great time there. Next to Phili.
Chris picked us up at the Greyhound station and took us on a tour of the city of brotherly love. The next day we ate a cheese steak in the early goings of a snowstorm and then hunkered down as the snow fell and fell. It was a far cry from turquoise waters, but whataya gonna do? The next afternoon we sat in a waiting room for our bus and listened to Cantonese pop music. Isn’t our country weird and wonderful? We took the Chinatown bus to NY, where I sit.
New York is amaizing. We’ve had a terrific time catching up with our old college pals, Allison, Nat, John, and Thaddeus, and we’ve been able to hang out with many other wonderful people. We ate oysters in a subway station and spent $13 on a sandwich at Katz’s deli. Wonderful and weird, weird and wonderful. As I write this it’s 10 degrees outside. We catch our plane in 6 hours and we’re California dreaming. Off to the Met.
I think we both have another blog or two in us so stay tuned. Oh, and more pictures are on the way.
Comments-[ comments.]
I’ll tell you….
Latin America is in my rearview. We finished off our trip with a visit to a Mayan ruin and a week on the beach. Were we sad to leave? Not really. The island was wonderful, relaxing, beautiful, and more, but our trip had run its course. As our date of departure neared, we felt more and more at ease with all that we had accomplished and with the fact that our trip would soon end. Rather than dreading the date we spent the closing days thinking over the last year and getting increasingly excited about our return home. We’d look at each other every once and a while and say, “I can’t believe we did it!” And we’d speculate about what it’d be like to, for the first time in a long time, spend time with people who know us. Now we know. And it’s nice, really nice.
Our trip home (to the US from the island) represented a new record for us: eight vehicles in one day. It went like this: taxi to airplane to airplane to bus to train to bus to airplane to the biggest SUV ever! Welcome to America.
As many of you know we chose to do an east coast swing before heading back to California. It’s been great. It’s allowed us a chance to see family and friends, and to take culture shock dose after dose. We started off in Herndon, Virginia, a suburb of D.C. with my cousin’s family, the Baylor’s. We couldn’t have had a softer landing pad. We relaxed, watched football, ate leftovers and were treated to a home-cooked meal. I scratched my head a little at our beloved game of football. But besides that, our only real culture-shock moment for the day was on our trip to the “new”, Wal-mart sized grocery store. When we walked in to the hangar-come-store, the woman behind us was so overwhelmed by what she saw, she gasped to her friend, “Oh my god,” who responded, “Isn’t it beautiful?” We too were impressed with the selection and quality of the fare on hand. So much so that were stood in the way of the shopping carts of others, jaws agape, paralyzed. We didn’t calm down until we were buckled in and watching a Gilligan’s Island episode on the DVD player in the back half of the SUV on the way home.
Next was D.C. and the inauguration really put a crimp on our plan to ignore the results of the election for as long as humanly possible. Tina also treated us to the comforts of home. In this case it was new toothbrushes, cheesy poofs, good beer, and a Neil Diamond CD. But most importantly, Tina asked us a gazillion questions about our trip. Whenever she saw our eyes glassing over, falling into a culture shock coma, she would ask us how we acquired dental floss along the way. Or she’d ask something trivial. All jokes aside, this question-asking tactic worked wonders. Besides being interviewed we also walked around the mall, but we kept tripping over sand bags and falling in bunkers. Besides it was damn cold. Off to Baltimore….
Paul and Amy kept the hospitality train rolling. We caught up with Tim, who cooked a mean curry, and Mike and had so much fun we started planning the next reunion. Raegan saw the city for the first time and really liked it. We met a certain Olympian. We ate in dinners, drank beers in dives and had a crab feast in a strip mall. Very Baltimore, very America. We had a great time there. Next to Phili.
Chris picked us up at the Greyhound station and took us on a tour of the city of brotherly love. The next day we ate a cheese steak in the early goings of a snowstorm and then hunkered down as the snow fell and fell. It was a far cry from turquoise waters, but whataya gonna do? The next afternoon we sat in a waiting room for our bus and listened to Cantonese pop music. Isn’t our country weird and wonderful? We took the Chinatown bus to NY, where I sit.
New York is amaizing. We’ve had a terrific time catching up with our old college pals, Allison, Nat, John, and Thaddeus, and we’ve been able to hang out with many other wonderful people. We ate oysters in a subway station and spent $13 on a sandwich at Katz’s deli. Wonderful and weird, weird and wonderful. As I write this it’s 10 degrees outside. We catch our plane in 6 hours and we’re California dreaming. Off to the Met.
I think we both have another blog or two in us so stay tuned. Oh, and more pictures are on the way.
Wednesday, December 29, 2004
Happy Holidays! We’re back on the road and back on the blog after a hiatus. To those of you who check the site often: we’re terribly sorry for the delay. We’ll do our best to keep you updated in these last weeks of our trip. We’re going to be back, state-side by the middle of January and with so little time left we’re starting to reflect a great deal on our trip. We’ll be sharing some of those reflections in the coming weeks. No doubt they will be immensely profound. But for now I will bring you all up to date…
Raegan and I are in the cute colonial town of Ruinas de Copan, Honduras very near the Guatemalan border and also, you guessed it, the ruins of the Mayan city of Copan. We won’t be seeing the ruins this time around. We’ll be back through these parts in a few weeks. Today is a day of rest. We’ve spent the last three days on what is affectionately known as the chicken bus. Actually, we’ve ridden on several chicken buses and a good percentage of them earned their title. We’ve crossed nearly three countries in three days with these modified elementary school buses as our primary mode of transport. We could have made it three borders in four days if we had it in us to push the last 15 miles to the Guatemalan border today, but we just didn’t. We’re saddle sore from three days on these crowded and bumpy busses made to fit little children. My favorite ride was on the bus which was supposedly luxurious because they removed their old seats which can fit three across and replaced them with old airplane seats which fit two across. The only problem was that unlike the other buses, regardless of comfort, if you were taller than 5 foot 8 you simply couldn’t cram yourself in there. At least it was a problem for me.
But I must give the chicken buses credit where credit is due. They are remarkably efficient. In every city where we’ve caught them, when we were ready to go we walked to the market and there is one waiting. It doesn’t leave until it’s full, but that has never taken more than 10 or 15 minutes. Also, they’re incredibly cheap and very accommodating. They will pick you up and drop you off at any point along the route. Sometimes this can be absurd with one passenger getting picked up or dropped off 10 feet from another, but the driver and mate never bat an eye. This sometimes makes for a slower ride, but the drivers all think their Mario Andretti so they make up the time.
So where have these buses taken us? From Leon we headed to the lakeside city of Granada. This city really surprised us. We arrived with thoughts of revolution and war and found a beautiful and somewhat cosmopolitan city. We didn’t do much there. Our theory is that this is symptom of traveling for a long time. Exhibit A was our British friend who had a few months on us who we never saw far away from his hammock in the hostal. We did a little better, but were no strangers to the hammock. We spent one day swimming at a mountain lake and spent the night drinking beers and talking to a Nicaraguan (Nico) and a Costa Rican (Tico) about political corruption. They are experts on the subject. The last Nicaraguan president, Aleman is now in jail (horray!) because he stole about a quarter of the $200 million in Hurricane Mitch aide donated to his country, one of the poorest countries in the world. What an asshole. Costa Rica has Nicaragua beat (mostly because they have had a justice branch with teeth for longer) with their last three former presidents in jail for having sex with an assistant and lying about it. Just kidding, it was for stealing lots and lots money from the taxpayers.
From Granada we headed to the largest lake island in the world, Ometepe in the middle of Lake Nicaragua. This is a magical place. The lake, the largest in Central America was created when North and South America joined. It has fish found nowhere else on earth: saltwater fish and sharks living in fresh water. And the island was created by two volcanoes with spilt lava filling in the space between them. Sound pretty? It is. The islanders live a slow agricultural life. They are poor and are remarkably nice. Supposedly this is because the civil war never came to the island. Whatever the reason, we spend our time on the island talking to the locals, chasing howler monkeys, watching pelicans fish, reading in hammocks and drinking beers during beautiful sunsets. It was tough, to leave that is.
Since, we spent Xmas week in lala land, otherwise known as Flamingo Beach, Costa Rica with our families. We were really happy to get the chance to spend time with our families. It was fun and was needed. It was also a nice and unexpected pre culture shock. We hope they enjoyed their time, too. When they left it was hard to say goodbye, and even harder to get back on the chicken bus.
Comments-[ comments.]
Raegan and I are in the cute colonial town of Ruinas de Copan, Honduras very near the Guatemalan border and also, you guessed it, the ruins of the Mayan city of Copan. We won’t be seeing the ruins this time around. We’ll be back through these parts in a few weeks. Today is a day of rest. We’ve spent the last three days on what is affectionately known as the chicken bus. Actually, we’ve ridden on several chicken buses and a good percentage of them earned their title. We’ve crossed nearly three countries in three days with these modified elementary school buses as our primary mode of transport. We could have made it three borders in four days if we had it in us to push the last 15 miles to the Guatemalan border today, but we just didn’t. We’re saddle sore from three days on these crowded and bumpy busses made to fit little children. My favorite ride was on the bus which was supposedly luxurious because they removed their old seats which can fit three across and replaced them with old airplane seats which fit two across. The only problem was that unlike the other buses, regardless of comfort, if you were taller than 5 foot 8 you simply couldn’t cram yourself in there. At least it was a problem for me.
But I must give the chicken buses credit where credit is due. They are remarkably efficient. In every city where we’ve caught them, when we were ready to go we walked to the market and there is one waiting. It doesn’t leave until it’s full, but that has never taken more than 10 or 15 minutes. Also, they’re incredibly cheap and very accommodating. They will pick you up and drop you off at any point along the route. Sometimes this can be absurd with one passenger getting picked up or dropped off 10 feet from another, but the driver and mate never bat an eye. This sometimes makes for a slower ride, but the drivers all think their Mario Andretti so they make up the time.
So where have these buses taken us? From Leon we headed to the lakeside city of Granada. This city really surprised us. We arrived with thoughts of revolution and war and found a beautiful and somewhat cosmopolitan city. We didn’t do much there. Our theory is that this is symptom of traveling for a long time. Exhibit A was our British friend who had a few months on us who we never saw far away from his hammock in the hostal. We did a little better, but were no strangers to the hammock. We spent one day swimming at a mountain lake and spent the night drinking beers and talking to a Nicaraguan (Nico) and a Costa Rican (Tico) about political corruption. They are experts on the subject. The last Nicaraguan president, Aleman is now in jail (horray!) because he stole about a quarter of the $200 million in Hurricane Mitch aide donated to his country, one of the poorest countries in the world. What an asshole. Costa Rica has Nicaragua beat (mostly because they have had a justice branch with teeth for longer) with their last three former presidents in jail for having sex with an assistant and lying about it. Just kidding, it was for stealing lots and lots money from the taxpayers.
From Granada we headed to the largest lake island in the world, Ometepe in the middle of Lake Nicaragua. This is a magical place. The lake, the largest in Central America was created when North and South America joined. It has fish found nowhere else on earth: saltwater fish and sharks living in fresh water. And the island was created by two volcanoes with spilt lava filling in the space between them. Sound pretty? It is. The islanders live a slow agricultural life. They are poor and are remarkably nice. Supposedly this is because the civil war never came to the island. Whatever the reason, we spend our time on the island talking to the locals, chasing howler monkeys, watching pelicans fish, reading in hammocks and drinking beers during beautiful sunsets. It was tough, to leave that is.
Since, we spent Xmas week in lala land, otherwise known as Flamingo Beach, Costa Rica with our families. We were really happy to get the chance to spend time with our families. It was fun and was needed. It was also a nice and unexpected pre culture shock. We hope they enjoyed their time, too. When they left it was hard to say goodbye, and even harder to get back on the chicken bus.
Thursday, November 25, 2004
We are back on the mainland after a great 5 weeks in the D.R. This being our third visit, Panama City is now both comfortable and familiar. Well, at least familiar. We still haven’t gotten used to the humidity here. It is brutal.
Raegan and I just got a CD of our pictures from Panama and The D.R. made and we’re really excited to share them. Other excitement: we just ate turkey at a café (and washed it down with our first Dr.Pepper in months). It wasn’t quite like home (what is?) but is somehow better than the chicken and stovetop stuffing we were planning on eating. Happy Thanksgiving to all (who celebrate it).
Now I have the challenge of trying to take several weeks in the D.R and try and share them with you without going on and on and on and….
--I can start by saying that in the last 10 months we’ve had some terrific experiences and our time in the mountains of the D.R. rank very well among them. Because of the time that we had, we got to really know the people living around us. But more broadly, we gained an understanding of poor, rural life in Latin America that we couldn’t have gained otherwise. Nearly everyone we met in the mountains (and don’t balk at the term, there are none higher east of the Mississippi) here was very welcoming and generous. All cultural and socio-economic divides were bridged quickly over a cup of coffee or a game of dominoes.
--We did our best to accomplish things for the farm and community and had some results. We helped Julie in the library, finished a composting project and dug a trash hole. A real deep one. We started a canuco (or terrace), a real big one, but didn’t finish. We tried to help the community reforest a hillside near their water source, but the donated trees were down the hill and there needed to be a town meeting, and …. At least we got to walk around the mountains for an afternoon with Palolo, a man who holds the distinction of having the hardest-to-understand Spanish of any man on earth. Oh and he has a real big machete which he uses to emphasize points. But we were pretty used to hanging out with folks with big knives by then. After our walk we were invited into his home for a chat with his family. I smiled and nodded a lot. So did Raegan.
--We didn’t always love the rural life. As Raegan mentioned we had our fair share of rain and it was a drag. At times I was so bored I was praying for the rain to cease to allow me to resume digging enormous terraces or ditches. I started to dislike the pleasing sounds of Bachata music because the local station had a 5 song playlist and (like many stations south of Mexico) put a good 5 minutes of radio personalities screaming at one another between songs. I couldn’t play baseball again. This was especially tough, because I had finally figured out the complicated betting scheme. With the landslides, the guagua trips we did (foolishly) take in the rain provided our only excitement after days of reading, playing cards and dominoes and banging our heads against the wall. Our record was 25 passengers plus the driver (15 in the short flat-bed, me on the roof, and 11 inside). This may sound doable to you until you consider the luggage, tin roofing, 40lb bags of corn and rice, live chickens , etc, etc.
--Another thing that grated on us was the xeno/racism in the D.R. We generally found the Dominicans to be very friendly and hospitable, but unfortunately this doesn’t extend to everyone that lives among them. From our experience it is obvious that the Hatians living and working in the D.R., and there are many, are second-class citizens. This situation is further complicated by race. Most Hatians have near 100% African heritage, whereas Dominicans are more likely to have some Spanish blood. At times there are only subtle differences, but nearly always Hatians are darker and are thus easy to pick out. There is so much history here on this island with two peoples. I could write a book on this subject, but understand that this xeno/racism is sometimes blatant and sometimes subtle, but it is always present and ugly.
--I’m eager to learn more about the long and complicated history of this island when we get back, but we’ve already learned a lot by walking the streets of Santo Domingo. For several days earlier this week we walked by the first cathedral, university, and hospital in the new world. We were astounded at how little time it took these folks to throw up these permanent structures. All of this including a city wall and a big mansion for Christopher Columbus’ family were completed less than 8 years after he ran aground in the new world. (Other historical stuff of interest is Napolean’s grand plan for Samana, Haiti, the first free-black nation, the several overt U.S., Spanish, French, and British interventions, and our covert support of Trujillo who renamed the capital Ciudade Trujillo and organized the massacre of 40,000 Hatians less than 70 years ago. But we didn’t see any of that in Santo Domingo).
--There are nice beaches here. But everyone knows that.
Also, there are more pictures of the DR on Julie's site.
Comments-[ comments.]
Raegan and I just got a CD of our pictures from Panama and The D.R. made and we’re really excited to share them. Other excitement: we just ate turkey at a café (and washed it down with our first Dr.Pepper in months). It wasn’t quite like home (what is?) but is somehow better than the chicken and stovetop stuffing we were planning on eating. Happy Thanksgiving to all (who celebrate it).
Now I have the challenge of trying to take several weeks in the D.R and try and share them with you without going on and on and on and….
--I can start by saying that in the last 10 months we’ve had some terrific experiences and our time in the mountains of the D.R. rank very well among them. Because of the time that we had, we got to really know the people living around us. But more broadly, we gained an understanding of poor, rural life in Latin America that we couldn’t have gained otherwise. Nearly everyone we met in the mountains (and don’t balk at the term, there are none higher east of the Mississippi) here was very welcoming and generous. All cultural and socio-economic divides were bridged quickly over a cup of coffee or a game of dominoes.
--We did our best to accomplish things for the farm and community and had some results. We helped Julie in the library, finished a composting project and dug a trash hole. A real deep one. We started a canuco (or terrace), a real big one, but didn’t finish. We tried to help the community reforest a hillside near their water source, but the donated trees were down the hill and there needed to be a town meeting, and …. At least we got to walk around the mountains for an afternoon with Palolo, a man who holds the distinction of having the hardest-to-understand Spanish of any man on earth. Oh and he has a real big machete which he uses to emphasize points. But we were pretty used to hanging out with folks with big knives by then. After our walk we were invited into his home for a chat with his family. I smiled and nodded a lot. So did Raegan.
--We didn’t always love the rural life. As Raegan mentioned we had our fair share of rain and it was a drag. At times I was so bored I was praying for the rain to cease to allow me to resume digging enormous terraces or ditches. I started to dislike the pleasing sounds of Bachata music because the local station had a 5 song playlist and (like many stations south of Mexico) put a good 5 minutes of radio personalities screaming at one another between songs. I couldn’t play baseball again. This was especially tough, because I had finally figured out the complicated betting scheme. With the landslides, the guagua trips we did (foolishly) take in the rain provided our only excitement after days of reading, playing cards and dominoes and banging our heads against the wall. Our record was 25 passengers plus the driver (15 in the short flat-bed, me on the roof, and 11 inside). This may sound doable to you until you consider the luggage, tin roofing, 40lb bags of corn and rice, live chickens , etc, etc.
--Another thing that grated on us was the xeno/racism in the D.R. We generally found the Dominicans to be very friendly and hospitable, but unfortunately this doesn’t extend to everyone that lives among them. From our experience it is obvious that the Hatians living and working in the D.R., and there are many, are second-class citizens. This situation is further complicated by race. Most Hatians have near 100% African heritage, whereas Dominicans are more likely to have some Spanish blood. At times there are only subtle differences, but nearly always Hatians are darker and are thus easy to pick out. There is so much history here on this island with two peoples. I could write a book on this subject, but understand that this xeno/racism is sometimes blatant and sometimes subtle, but it is always present and ugly.
--I’m eager to learn more about the long and complicated history of this island when we get back, but we’ve already learned a lot by walking the streets of Santo Domingo. For several days earlier this week we walked by the first cathedral, university, and hospital in the new world. We were astounded at how little time it took these folks to throw up these permanent structures. All of this including a city wall and a big mansion for Christopher Columbus’ family were completed less than 8 years after he ran aground in the new world. (Other historical stuff of interest is Napolean’s grand plan for Samana, Haiti, the first free-black nation, the several overt U.S., Spanish, French, and British interventions, and our covert support of Trujillo who renamed the capital Ciudade Trujillo and organized the massacre of 40,000 Hatians less than 70 years ago. But we didn’t see any of that in Santo Domingo).
--There are nice beaches here. But everyone knows that.
Also, there are more pictures of the DR on Julie's site.
Saturday, October 30, 2004
Hello all, Raegan and I still have our heads in the clouds in the hi-lands of the Dominican Republic. We've been keeping ourselves busy doing some work related to the coffee farm and some community-building work in the town where the farm is located. I'll get more specific at a later date, I promise. Once or twice a week we head down the mountain to the town of Jarabacoa to remember what pavement looks like, what products can be bought and to have a little taste of the outside world, usually via the WWW. Next Wednesday will be our next taste, but before heading to the internet cafe, I intend to buy a bottle of fine Dominican rum and some Coca Cola -- limes can be easily plucked on the farm -- for either some post news-gourge celebration or mourning.
I know I'm preaching to the choir, but I must....
We can all remember when we were in school and some of our peers ran for the student council. We would like to think that the shy-but-nice/smart candidate would be victorious, but we knew that the elected would always be the most motivated or the most popular candidate (and in rare circumstances both). It just wasn't fair I remember thinking. And maybe it isn't, but popularity is important. It's important for a politician to have people like you, to be on your side. And the student-reps who used their popularity to their advantage got things done. Ultimately, as divided as our country is now, and likely will be for some time, either Bush or Kerry will be deemed a more popular figure next Tuesday. It's no secret who I like, but I don't think many Americans understand (or perhaps care) what the world thinks.
Given Bush's persistent use of his words on the stump, apparently Kerry made a mistake when he suggested in the last debate that there ought to be some sort of "global test" before we send our troops abroad to wage war. I don't think that he was suggesting that we should allow, say the Dominican Republic, or god forbid, FRANCE (!) to veto decisions related to our national security. But I do think he meant that the there should be some percentage of the world that doesn't think we're full of it. Afterall, we want people to like us, dont we? Well folks, from my informal survey of many people and places in the world over the last 9 months, people think we're full of it and they don't like us.
Since we left the US, we have met one man who was in favor of G.W. Bush. He was a Chilean businessman and like many in our world he was concerned with one issue. For him it was a free-trade agreement with Chile that Bush signed into law. Most take a broader view, and this exceptional man is not what's important here. I should be more clear: we haven't met anyone on this trip who sits on the fence, this man was the only person we've met abroad who was not a fervent Bush hater. People are truly afraid of Bush. They don't trust him and aren't sure if they should trust American citizens because of him.
Many people we've met have reasured us: "there is no way he can be re-elected." They cannot and do not understand how he could be at all popular in the US concidering how unpopular he is their communities, countries, regions, continents. (I don't either). An op-ed article I read in the conservative Santo Domingo daily yesterday characterized Bush supporters as ignorant and provincial people who want America to be an empirical power that can bomb who it wants when it wants. I'd hate to read what the liberal daily says. The article went on to lambaste American democracy in light of the fact that 50% of eligible voters will abstain, and suggested that a Bush victory (given his unpopularity and our absenteeism) would be sure sign of electoral fraud. Woah! The point I'm trying to make is: whether you believe this to be true or not, it's disturbing that a far-from-fringe foreign paper would put out such unsavory ideas about our people, country, and government. (And these ideas aren't just relegated to the developing world, aparently a London daily suggested yesterday that America needs a Lee Harvey Oswald reincarnate) Yes I'm concerned about these opinions, and so should you be. From the people I've met on the road (and no they're not all dreaded, traveling WMF protesters -- they're from many walks) I've gathered that these ideas are more deeply embeded we'd like to think.
(And guess what folks? Many people we've met who would like to immigrate for a better life don't want in. If they had their choice, they want Canada, or Italy, etc, etc.)
These ideas are far from isolated to this paper, to this country. It has been suggested by more than one person, that the current divide we (Raegan and I) have enjoyed on this trip between government and people is very fragile. That is: hatred of Bush and our governtment may not stay merely that, and could easily become hatred of Americans in general if...
So where did I begin? Popularity. We wish it wasn't everything, but it's damn important. And currently, our standing, and thus our power in the world depends on it more than we think.
But the election sure is close and I'm trying to be optimistic. Before checking the news on Wednesday I think I'll buy one of those famous Dominican cigars too. Have a happy halloween, and don't forget to vote!
Comments-[ comments.]
I know I'm preaching to the choir, but I must....
We can all remember when we were in school and some of our peers ran for the student council. We would like to think that the shy-but-nice/smart candidate would be victorious, but we knew that the elected would always be the most motivated or the most popular candidate (and in rare circumstances both). It just wasn't fair I remember thinking. And maybe it isn't, but popularity is important. It's important for a politician to have people like you, to be on your side. And the student-reps who used their popularity to their advantage got things done. Ultimately, as divided as our country is now, and likely will be for some time, either Bush or Kerry will be deemed a more popular figure next Tuesday. It's no secret who I like, but I don't think many Americans understand (or perhaps care) what the world thinks.
Given Bush's persistent use of his words on the stump, apparently Kerry made a mistake when he suggested in the last debate that there ought to be some sort of "global test" before we send our troops abroad to wage war. I don't think that he was suggesting that we should allow, say the Dominican Republic, or god forbid, FRANCE (!) to veto decisions related to our national security. But I do think he meant that the there should be some percentage of the world that doesn't think we're full of it. Afterall, we want people to like us, dont we? Well folks, from my informal survey of many people and places in the world over the last 9 months, people think we're full of it and they don't like us.
Since we left the US, we have met one man who was in favor of G.W. Bush. He was a Chilean businessman and like many in our world he was concerned with one issue. For him it was a free-trade agreement with Chile that Bush signed into law. Most take a broader view, and this exceptional man is not what's important here. I should be more clear: we haven't met anyone on this trip who sits on the fence, this man was the only person we've met abroad who was not a fervent Bush hater. People are truly afraid of Bush. They don't trust him and aren't sure if they should trust American citizens because of him.
Many people we've met have reasured us: "there is no way he can be re-elected." They cannot and do not understand how he could be at all popular in the US concidering how unpopular he is their communities, countries, regions, continents. (I don't either). An op-ed article I read in the conservative Santo Domingo daily yesterday characterized Bush supporters as ignorant and provincial people who want America to be an empirical power that can bomb who it wants when it wants. I'd hate to read what the liberal daily says. The article went on to lambaste American democracy in light of the fact that 50% of eligible voters will abstain, and suggested that a Bush victory (given his unpopularity and our absenteeism) would be sure sign of electoral fraud. Woah! The point I'm trying to make is: whether you believe this to be true or not, it's disturbing that a far-from-fringe foreign paper would put out such unsavory ideas about our people, country, and government. (And these ideas aren't just relegated to the developing world, aparently a London daily suggested yesterday that America needs a Lee Harvey Oswald reincarnate) Yes I'm concerned about these opinions, and so should you be. From the people I've met on the road (and no they're not all dreaded, traveling WMF protesters -- they're from many walks) I've gathered that these ideas are more deeply embeded we'd like to think.
(And guess what folks? Many people we've met who would like to immigrate for a better life don't want in. If they had their choice, they want Canada, or Italy, etc, etc.)
These ideas are far from isolated to this paper, to this country. It has been suggested by more than one person, that the current divide we (Raegan and I) have enjoyed on this trip between government and people is very fragile. That is: hatred of Bush and our governtment may not stay merely that, and could easily become hatred of Americans in general if...
So where did I begin? Popularity. We wish it wasn't everything, but it's damn important. And currently, our standing, and thus our power in the world depends on it more than we think.
But the election sure is close and I'm trying to be optimistic. Before checking the news on Wednesday I think I'll buy one of those famous Dominican cigars too. Have a happy halloween, and don't forget to vote!
Monday, October 11, 2004
Raegan and I safely landed in Panama City a few days ago. Immediately it became apparent that despite sharring many linguistic and historical ties with South America, we are on a different continent. First impression: how could the air possibly be more humid? We´re adjusting. Next was getting US greenbacks out of the ATM. What bland and boring money we have, but to this too we are adjusting. I don´t know if we´ll ever full adjust to the Quiznos Subs, Payless Shoe Source, KFC, TGI Fridays, Dominos, etc, etc... we didn´t realy miss those places so much. But we were really excited to be able to buy chips, salsa, and cheddar cheese at the 24hr Supermarket, things we really missed, and to be able to take refuge from the heat in a movie at the mall. Raegan and I are a little ashamed of ourselves on this account, and I´m not sure how we´ll feel when we get back to the U.S., but for now, malls are great.
Speaking of great, we had a terrific time in Brazil and our last few days in Sao Paolo was the cherry on top. We met Euduardo, who goes by Duda, in Buenos Aires and he invited us to stay at his house. He lives with two older men; Mosa who teaches languages (Portugese, English, Spanish and French), and Jean-Francois who has a few small businesses (Jeweler and purveyor of fine chocolates). Duda was nice enough to get us at the bus station at 6am before heading off to work, and Francois and Mosa oppened their home to us as if we were old friends. They´ll likely never know how nice it was for us to be in a home instead of a hostal.
Our last night in S.America was well commemorated. Raegan and I cooked dinner for our hosts and were joined by our traveler pal Jonathan. After dinner we went to a rock bar where the multicultural audience was singing Ozzie Osborn lyrics into their beer bottles. That sentence can´t explain the place, but at the time I felt like I had found the heart of the city. Sao Paolo is a really interesting place, and when we took our seats on the plane the next morning we had mixed feelings. Like Brazil and the rest of South America we felt that our time was too short to have seen and done all that we wanted to, but that we had given it a good run. In the last 9 months in S.America we tried very hard to feel and understand a place through our experiences and at times, like our last night in Sao Paolo, we succeeded.
Other thoughts on Brazil as a whole:
You need a guide to get where you want to go because "it´s dangerous." Like the location of a bus station compared to a Brazilian town, or the location of your next destination in this huge country: far from it. The earth is red, the land is green and the skies are blue. In mid-day the cobblestone streets are so hot the dogs scratch their ears standing up, and the men wash their shorts and bodies simutaniously in the watering hole. To battle the heat, find shade and have a beer or coconut chilled scientificly to fractions of a degree above freezing, or a mango or a papaya or a guava or a...... Have one anytime. Or sit in the hammock under a banana leaf, or under a fan, and watch the children play with their invented toys, the shirless men, the men in suits on phones, the young women in tight clothes (tighter when pregnant) or the old women carrying loads home on thier heads. Flip, flop, flip, flop. Smiles. Hear the music blasting from the speakers on the car, the election is coming, or from the radio, the guitar on the porch, the drum on the beach, or the voice walking to her job designing airplanes. Hear nothing: never. At night step up to the bar on, in, around the plaza and meet your friends of every color. Dance. Tommorow: work and dance again and know that you are tropical paridise, a country of 200 million souls, and a world power...who else is?
Here are pictures!
Comments-[ comments.]
Speaking of great, we had a terrific time in Brazil and our last few days in Sao Paolo was the cherry on top. We met Euduardo, who goes by Duda, in Buenos Aires and he invited us to stay at his house. He lives with two older men; Mosa who teaches languages (Portugese, English, Spanish and French), and Jean-Francois who has a few small businesses (Jeweler and purveyor of fine chocolates). Duda was nice enough to get us at the bus station at 6am before heading off to work, and Francois and Mosa oppened their home to us as if we were old friends. They´ll likely never know how nice it was for us to be in a home instead of a hostal.
Our last night in S.America was well commemorated. Raegan and I cooked dinner for our hosts and were joined by our traveler pal Jonathan. After dinner we went to a rock bar where the multicultural audience was singing Ozzie Osborn lyrics into their beer bottles. That sentence can´t explain the place, but at the time I felt like I had found the heart of the city. Sao Paolo is a really interesting place, and when we took our seats on the plane the next morning we had mixed feelings. Like Brazil and the rest of South America we felt that our time was too short to have seen and done all that we wanted to, but that we had given it a good run. In the last 9 months in S.America we tried very hard to feel and understand a place through our experiences and at times, like our last night in Sao Paolo, we succeeded.
Other thoughts on Brazil as a whole:
You need a guide to get where you want to go because "it´s dangerous." Like the location of a bus station compared to a Brazilian town, or the location of your next destination in this huge country: far from it. The earth is red, the land is green and the skies are blue. In mid-day the cobblestone streets are so hot the dogs scratch their ears standing up, and the men wash their shorts and bodies simutaniously in the watering hole. To battle the heat, find shade and have a beer or coconut chilled scientificly to fractions of a degree above freezing, or a mango or a papaya or a guava or a...... Have one anytime. Or sit in the hammock under a banana leaf, or under a fan, and watch the children play with their invented toys, the shirless men, the men in suits on phones, the young women in tight clothes (tighter when pregnant) or the old women carrying loads home on thier heads. Flip, flop, flip, flop. Smiles. Hear the music blasting from the speakers on the car, the election is coming, or from the radio, the guitar on the porch, the drum on the beach, or the voice walking to her job designing airplanes. Hear nothing: never. At night step up to the bar on, in, around the plaza and meet your friends of every color. Dance. Tommorow: work and dance again and know that you are tropical paridise, a country of 200 million souls, and a world power...who else is?
Here are pictures!
Tuesday, September 21, 2004
Raegan and I are in Northern Brazil and like my candidate for president, we´ve been flip-flopping a lot lately. Our flip-flop tan-lines are coming in nicely. Tonight we will be on the road once again to Lençois, an inland area with lots of hikes to waterfalls. Though this ride will not be as long as our last, we´re leaving a little sooner than we´d like -- it seems we could never have enought time to see this huge country.
On our last night in Rio, Raegan and I hung out once again with our parallel traveler Jonathan Udkow (from Oakland). He´s rented an apartment on Ipanima and as usual it was great to spend some nights with him. On that last night we were driven around by a wonderful couple, Clarisse and Rafael, to a few places only a local could know. They generously devoted an evening to ensure we got a good impression of their city (though they gave us a hard time for the brevity of our visit) and they succeeded. Our only regret in leaving Rio was not being able to spend more time with them.
Raegan and I have spent the last few days on the beach north of Salvador. The town, Praia do Forte moves about as fast as the palm trees sway and it´s been a nice reprieve from the somewhat more hectic Salvador. Yesterday we had a full day on the beach, our first since arriving in Brazil, and only got off the sand to swim or to buy roasted cashews to monch or a coconut to sip from. It was such a great way to pass the day we didn´t even mind our new lobster-colored skin.
Besides from being a sleepy fishing village slowly transforming into a beach resort, Praia do Forte is home to Brazil´s Tamar Project, a international organization devoted to saving sea turtles. This means you can buy every variety of turltle-related souveneirs you could imagine, oh, and you can also visit a center full of rehabilitaing turtles. They´re pretty neat.
Back to Salvador. This city, due to its unfortunate slavery-related history is blessed with amazing colonial architecture and a fascinating culture. The colonial center of town is a maze of coblestone streets lined with colorfully painted buildings. At night the streets smell of wonderful Bahian food and are filled with live music coming from whichever direction. Raegan and I stayed right it the thick of it. As wonderful as this area was, it was also full of tourist hawks.
As Raegan and I walked the streets at night we were usually asked every few paces to consider some good or service. The most depressing, and latter annoying were the children whos work was to collect empty beer cans. After Raegan and I watched a drum troupe in the streets for a bit, I bought a few beers and collected my change. The beer can boy wanted that change so he followed me from the sale over to Raegan. His tactic was to annoy, so after asking a few times he began to tap, tap, tap my shoulder. He walked beside me for a few blocks taking turns tap tap tapping my and Raegan´s shoulders. By this point it was a battle of wills and I explained repeatedly as I initially had, that I would give him my can when empty but he would not get one cent of that change. I meant that. Raegan and I sat down for a conversation, but the boy didn´t tire. I shoved him off and he returned with a rock, his threat for when I tried to shove him off again. After waiting him out for another minute Fabio and Flavia came to the rescue.
With the same words, but with more swagger, they managed to get the boy to leave us alone as they invited us to drink a few beers with them. Their sole motivation was to share our company, two foreigners they didn´t know, and to ensure we enjoyed ourselves in their city. In most parts of our country hospitality is an industry, here it´s a cultural attribute. We spent a few hours together struggling with each others language, but making up for our difficulty with a laugh or a thumbs-up (the Brazilian national symbol) .
Two days ago, Fabio and Flavia came to our Hostal and picked us up. They drove us up the coast and we carried on where we left off in our English, Portugese and sign language conversation. We visited Flavia´s house where we met her family and dog. She showed us some pictures of her and her friends. After adding another friend to our crew, we pilled back in the car and they took us the rest of the way (about 1.5hrs) to Praia do Forte. When we arrived they made sure we could check in to our hostal and they began their drive home. They had a concert to attend that evening. Providing our company for the ride wasn´t nearly enough to repay them for their kindness, but they didn´t seem concerned. I hope someday I´ll get the opportunity to ensure they enjoy my hometown.
Comments-[ comments.]
On our last night in Rio, Raegan and I hung out once again with our parallel traveler Jonathan Udkow (from Oakland). He´s rented an apartment on Ipanima and as usual it was great to spend some nights with him. On that last night we were driven around by a wonderful couple, Clarisse and Rafael, to a few places only a local could know. They generously devoted an evening to ensure we got a good impression of their city (though they gave us a hard time for the brevity of our visit) and they succeeded. Our only regret in leaving Rio was not being able to spend more time with them.
Raegan and I have spent the last few days on the beach north of Salvador. The town, Praia do Forte moves about as fast as the palm trees sway and it´s been a nice reprieve from the somewhat more hectic Salvador. Yesterday we had a full day on the beach, our first since arriving in Brazil, and only got off the sand to swim or to buy roasted cashews to monch or a coconut to sip from. It was such a great way to pass the day we didn´t even mind our new lobster-colored skin.
Besides from being a sleepy fishing village slowly transforming into a beach resort, Praia do Forte is home to Brazil´s Tamar Project, a international organization devoted to saving sea turtles. This means you can buy every variety of turltle-related souveneirs you could imagine, oh, and you can also visit a center full of rehabilitaing turtles. They´re pretty neat.
Back to Salvador. This city, due to its unfortunate slavery-related history is blessed with amazing colonial architecture and a fascinating culture. The colonial center of town is a maze of coblestone streets lined with colorfully painted buildings. At night the streets smell of wonderful Bahian food and are filled with live music coming from whichever direction. Raegan and I stayed right it the thick of it. As wonderful as this area was, it was also full of tourist hawks.
As Raegan and I walked the streets at night we were usually asked every few paces to consider some good or service. The most depressing, and latter annoying were the children whos work was to collect empty beer cans. After Raegan and I watched a drum troupe in the streets for a bit, I bought a few beers and collected my change. The beer can boy wanted that change so he followed me from the sale over to Raegan. His tactic was to annoy, so after asking a few times he began to tap, tap, tap my shoulder. He walked beside me for a few blocks taking turns tap tap tapping my and Raegan´s shoulders. By this point it was a battle of wills and I explained repeatedly as I initially had, that I would give him my can when empty but he would not get one cent of that change. I meant that. Raegan and I sat down for a conversation, but the boy didn´t tire. I shoved him off and he returned with a rock, his threat for when I tried to shove him off again. After waiting him out for another minute Fabio and Flavia came to the rescue.
With the same words, but with more swagger, they managed to get the boy to leave us alone as they invited us to drink a few beers with them. Their sole motivation was to share our company, two foreigners they didn´t know, and to ensure we enjoyed ourselves in their city. In most parts of our country hospitality is an industry, here it´s a cultural attribute. We spent a few hours together struggling with each others language, but making up for our difficulty with a laugh or a thumbs-up (the Brazilian national symbol) .
Two days ago, Fabio and Flavia came to our Hostal and picked us up. They drove us up the coast and we carried on where we left off in our English, Portugese and sign language conversation. We visited Flavia´s house where we met her family and dog. She showed us some pictures of her and her friends. After adding another friend to our crew, we pilled back in the car and they took us the rest of the way (about 1.5hrs) to Praia do Forte. When we arrived they made sure we could check in to our hostal and they began their drive home. They had a concert to attend that evening. Providing our company for the ride wasn´t nearly enough to repay them for their kindness, but they didn´t seem concerned. I hope someday I´ll get the opportunity to ensure they enjoy my hometown.
