In Case You Didn't Know

I am back in the United States of America. After months of life and travels in South America, followed by a secret 5-week period in St. Louis, MO, I would like to publically and officially proclaim myself as being located in the United States, both body and mind. Since a lot of things have happened and a lot of things have changed over the last year, I have decided to do a little Q and A to catch up with myself.

So what really happened down there?

Well, during the 9+ months that I was "abroad" I was actually practicing yoga and learning how to paint murals from the czech mafia in Prague.

What are you doing now?

That is a really good question and I will answer it as seriously as I can at this point in my life. Currently, I am uploading press releases, hanging out in baby toy warehouses, and finishing off the rest of the hummus.

I know this has been a long and intense interview and I know you have already answered a lot of questions today so I am just going to ask you one more question. Did you hear about the fire at the circus?

Actually, I did. I heard that a lot of people lived and a lot of people died.

Notes

Currently, I am in Chiclayo, Peru, aka the City of Friendship. The people are really friendly here, but I am not so sure how good they are at making and or maintaining friendships. Yesterday, chupe de mariscos was eaten. That is my favorite coastal dish in Peru. Today, sudado de mero was eaten. Tonight, a bus to cajamarca will be taken.

Here is a list of some of the things I have learned in the last couple of months...

I like writing and speaking in passive present and passive future
Tailor Hicks is an American Idol
UFOs are difficult to find
More people vote for American Idol than for the US presidency
Security guards in Cuenca, Ecuador earn $100 a month and two bullets
Teaching is difficult
Teaching is rewarding
Pooping is easy
Pooping is rewarding
Cake in Peru is a lot better than cake in Ecuador
Crossing the border at 3 am is risky in that there might not be anyone at immigration to stamp you
Ecuadorians love KFC
Ecuadorians love Pio Pio
Ecuadorians are the best line cooks in the US
Having friends visit is a good idea even though sometimes they cheat at cards
I have two pairs of jeans, one has a hole in the butt and the other has two holes in the crotch
People of all ages enjoy playing BINGO

more to come...

Scent of a man/woman

Sometimes people wear too much cologne. And sometimes other people wear too much perfume. Occasionally these same people are also using too much hair gel. Every now and then you are caught on an elevator with one of these people, spending a precious 23 seconds of your life holding your breath, biting your lip, and trying not to pass out. If you are lucky, you live. And if you live you are ecstatic, but you are also wondering why this happened to you. You are wondering why no laws exist to protect the innocent. Twenty five years in the slammer should do it. But if they offend again, then it is a life-term followed by torture. They will sit in a small non-ventilated room with dozens of bottles of their preffered artificial scent, all empty because the contents are spread all over the walls, the floor and their body. At last we are solving the problems of the world.

Leap Year Valentine

Once upon a time a gangly freshman, a timid sophomore, a boisterous junior, and a smiley senior came together in a long and narrow dorm room not knowing what the brisk night would bring them. There was probably some ping pong and there were definitely some jokes before the 4-some realized it was a very important American holiday and not one of them had a significant other of the opposite sex in which they could pass the time. But as the witty thinkers that they later proved to be, the quad of young men posed the idea of spending the evening together inside the warm and musty walls of Friendly´s Restaurant in Arlington, MA.

The frosh held on to the seniors shirt as he whipped around the road´s curves while the sophomore and the junior giggled in the backseat, anticipating a highly intimate evening. And when they got to the diner, the two pairs sat across from eachother as though it were a double date. Three of them ordered burgers and the senior ordered a buffalo chicken meal. The pretty brunnette waitress eyed each of them from the kitchen as the conversation skipped around from topic to topic often landing on the topic of the very pretty waitress herself. When dinner was over they wrote the telephone number of the long and skinny room from where they congregated before the meal and they signed all their names across the receipt. Clever they thought. Exciting too.

They went back with fully bellies and grins on their faces, extremely pleased with how the night turned out. Their good friend greeted them at the door of the long and narrow room with a fleeting smirk. Now that they were back from the bitter night and the cozy restaurant they could tell their friend the tale of the evening. But maybe it was better if they didn´t. For this was a special night that would be repeated for years to come. It would be repeated until finally some greater force pulled one of them across the Mississippi and another to a separate continent. Not one of the four young men foresaw this as a possible reality, but now that it is here they will be without each other for the first time.

A year for contemplation and reflection. Next year promises life and congregation.

Cows and Bulls

Growing up in Missouri I had a childhood in which I was exposed to rural America every so often. Just drive 10 minutes out of the St. Louis city limits on any highway and out both sides of the car you will see vast cornfields, beat up barns, and grazing cattle. Sometimes we took weekend trips out of the city to find peace and quiet, but more so to be educated about the undeveloped land that surrounds us. Being in the country in the wilderness, on farms, was not out of the ordinary at all.

So I find it incredibly ironic that I had to travel all the way to the south of Ecuador to learn that some cows have horns. It seemed a bit odd that every time I saw a herd of cattle, none of them seemed to be cows-they all had horns. But I had never seen a cow with horns in Missouri. Cows with horns are bulls. Bulls have horns.

But as I finished up a 4-hour hike I assure you that my tired and delirious eyes did not deceive me. Off to my right was a PASTURE full of cows with horns. There were two hornless babies and both were nursing on whom I thought up to the very moment of utter-sucking were bulls. So unless these baby cows were orally pleasuring their fathers, I now know that some cows just have horns.

Organic Food and Lots of Farts

It's great to be back in the Andean paradise of Vilcabamba, Ecuador. It seemed like only days, but in fact it had been over a month. A period in which I saw most of Ecuador, the beach, the jungle, the biggest cities, and all the mountains inbetween.

In that month away I didn't once forgot what organic food tasted like. How pure it feels entering your system. You feel nothing but clear headed and healthy. Wow did I miss it!

But what I did fail to remember is what it does to you hours later. The pressing gas bubbles it forms in your stomache. The farts. The smelly room. The farts. The smelly sheets. More farts.

But farts aside, organic food is the future. I mean just think about the environment, our bodies, the land.

In conclusion, I'm willing to continue eating organic food at the price of a plethera of unbearably bitter farts each night.

Dear Emily

I know it has been some time since I have written you. An unexcusable and rude period has passed. You´re probably wondering if we´re even still friends. If i remember your brother´s name. If I appreciate the amount of donuts that were consumed one late summer night.

Well, the sun beats down on my typing shoulder and I wonder some of the same types of things. I really do amiga. i wonder if copa air will ever fly to cuenca. I wonder if Ecuadorians are burning George Bush masks tonight because they think he is a great hero. And I wonder why so many midwesterners spend their winter vacations in Mexico.

It is natural to have questions. We all do. And some of us even have answers. But as we creep into the 7th year of the century I think it is important that we keep one thing in mind. We must be concious of the idea that the future is only undeveloped history.

So I write this letter from Quito, Ecuador not knowing much about the world other than that it is small and it is vast. And I know there are a lot of good people who fill it and I am fortunate to know many of these good people. So to you friend and to you friend and to you friend, Happy New Year.

See you in 2006!

Asi es, Asi sea

Since it has been weeks, almost an entire month since I have last recorded in this spotty compilation of my life´s occurences, and since I just ran into Miles,(half of the famed British couple who I just found out are postponing there trip to Chile to surprise mom and pop in Barbados)I feel that I owe something of value in this entry. And since value can be difficult to define and like most things is completely relative, I will not attempt to aknowledge how much or what kind of value I am presenting.

So with out further a do I must go ahead and reveal today´s confession, which is that I may or may not be in South America. What I´m saying is that I may not have ever left my country of citizenship. My work as a psychologist in Cajamarca may as well have been an intership at St. John´s Mental Health in Portland, Oregon. Perhaps my neighbors pet monkey Valentina was really just a black lab. And my conversations reffering to god punishing us with hurricanes could just as well been your typical neoconservative jesus freak from the midwest. I know this is not news to every one. There are many rumors floating about as there always are. And since I consider truth to be another one of those things that is relative, I prefer not to distinguish between rumor and validity as I consider this an impossible act. I cannot prove I am neither here nor there, so like the movie Gossip, every one will decide for themselves what story they want to beleive. Myself included.

In effort of not being too philosophical I will go ahead and tell some stories.

Story #1
About two weeks ago I woke up with red dots all over my body. They covered every single spot of skin except for where I was wearing underwear(on my head). The next day I woke up drenched in my own urine. The next day I woke up and my red spots were completely gone. The next day I woke up and took my pissed soaked underwear out of a tightly tied plastic bag and breathed in the humiliating yet fresh odor.

Story #2
I got on an airplane in Cuenca, Ecuador. The flight attendent said the flight would last 30 minutes. My watch read 8:33am and 17 seconds when we took off. My watch read 9:03am and 49 seconds when we landed in Quito. It was a good flight, although it lasted more than 30 minutes.

Story #3
My shower happened not to get hot one day so I tiptoed into a middle aged woman´s apartment and used her shower. I pulled a little from her soap, but only read the labels of her shampoo and conditioner.

Seven Days

In the last week I have:

fought a shrub fire on top of an 8,000 ft peak, worked at an international food fair, started a literary magazine, helped finish a hiking guide, road in the back of a pickup truck, read one book, drummed in a drumming circle, climbed 3 mountains, picked my nose 17 times, broke one waterglass, asked someone to make 50 copies, talked to one amazon parrot, got splashed with water in Loja, saw 10 baby ducks, met a wierd guy from Carthrage, Missouri, saw a belly dancer belly dance, used a jacuzzi and drank fanta from the tap.

I probably did some other things too.

Calling All Paths

At last I have called out to the universe and the universe has responded. It has taken me from the devil’s rotting cavern and thrust me upon the negative ions; a special spot where everything is amplified until it meets its highest potential energy and there it plateaus.

Yes, last week’s maniacal work came to an abrupt end upon meeting one of the world’s most active activists.

Where am I? This I cannot tell for the protection of all parties involved. But amongst the variety of orchids, organic chickens, and wilderness spa, it is safe to say I am in paradise.

Here in paradise I have had some fairly profound thoughts:

What is one supposed to do with the bits of food that come out of your mouth when you floss? If you leave it on the string you are running a high risk of putting it on your cheek when you go back in. I have been rinsing it off before going back in. But what if you don’t have water?

I really like donkeys. I like them so much that I have come to the sad and pathetic realization that the first three letters of donkey constitutes my entire last name and that I find that really cool. I am thinking of purchasing a donkey and riding it through South America. Undoubtedly, my donkey will induce less vomit than the bus.

Donkeys sound like sea saws. Donkeys sound like a rickety bed in which 2 or more people are making love.

You can be a complete and well-rounded individual without having any nose hair.

Clean it up

Up above the village of Vilcabamba, way up in the clouds, along a green mountain ridge, lay a path of dirt and rocks. Up there a rooster is the first to get a peak of the sun as its reflection creeps over the mountians summit. The rooster then alerts all the roosters below and gradually the town wakes to a peacful madness.

Town drunks empty there already empty bottles into their dry mouths. School children hold hands and skip across the street. Police men gather around a post and share cakes and croissants. And I walk upstairs to the bar so that I can sweep up dead beatles, mop their blood and decide what to do with the several dozen live beatles that scamper across the floor.

I feel dirty. Not because of the dead beatles nor because of their blood. And not because I havn´t showered in 5 days. I feel dirty because I am volunteering at a whore house. The owner calls it a hosteria which is supposed to be some form of hotel or hostel. But in reality it is a whore house. There are many whores and there are not many not-whores. But if it were just a whore house and I happened to be just working at the bar, the place that serves alcohol and fascilitates this sort of practice, then I might not feel so dirty.

Perhaps I wouldn´t feel so dirty if the owner slept with less guests. Or less employees perhaps. Or perhaps I wouldn´t feel so dirty if dishes were cleaned and if mineral water wasn´t from the tap.

But although it may sound like it, I am not complaining. Not only am I surrounded by beatles, I am also surrounded by lush, green, mountains. I am surrounded by mango and banana trees. And I am surrounded by roosters that crow all day. It might not be enough to make me feel clean, but I always have the option to hike to a waterfall and sit under it until all dirtyness is washed away.

Real Reality

Sadly, I have been reading next to nothing. I did read cosmo in spanish in which I learned how to detect a jealous friend. And I read the rotary club of cajamarca monthly press release. I have certainly read some road signs, price tags, and restaurant menus. And occasionally I read the logos on hats, shirts, and neck braces of those who pass by.

But I havn´t read anything quite of the substance that I am used to. A long novel, a collection of short stories, a newsweek feature. Those are the things that keep my brain from turning into a pot of cebiche. And although I have hit my head on cielings, fans, and other low hanging objects several times, I attribute the degeneration of my brain to none other than lack of reading.

This is not a plea for help. This is like a Severe thunderstorm warning that you see at the bottom of your television screen.

In other news, Ecuador seems to be a beautiful country full of banana trees and empañadas. It is a bit easier to poop here and there are parks full of curious iguanas. Some people say river, others say ocean. Nobody gets in a fight over this issue. And bowling does exist. In fact, the world bowling hall of fame might be in Ecuador.