1/16/2011 - Valdivia, Chile: Reverse Vampires

An hour into cruising around Santiago, I´m tired of being lost, so I bust out my GPS (compass) and start heading South. I stop in for some giant empanadas and get some proper directions out of the city. Once I´m on the freeway I start getting a little more enthusiastic about Chile. It´s by far the most developed country in South America, and is nothing but a first world, well organized, and well governed country. Its a long sliver of a place, but it thrives on its vast and greatly managed agriculture. Don´t even think about bringing a banana across the border, you might as well have a fist full of crack. The agriculture is highly regarded and for good reason. Unlike Argentina, they in fact have fruits and vegetables. It was awesome stopping in for a snack at a little stand on the side of the highway. While eating a peach, the shop owner comes over and gives some mystery fruit, which I rather enjoyed. Then when I went to pay, he wouldn´t accept any money. What a country! Beautiful landscape, great wine, stellar empanadas, and free fruit. Sweet!

A rare healthy snack

When it wasn´t raining (which it did a lot) the terrain and camping were fabulous. Crystal blue virgin rivers and somewhat untouched forest (Chileans do love their chainsaws.) It all makes for a really enjoyable drive. The only downside is this one specific type of bug. While I´m off discovering new cultures and landscapes. I also get to discover evil little animals as well. The colihuacho (literally translated to fag) is the worst creature I´ve encountered thus far. They´re about the size of a bumble be, but are like little reverse vampires on the hunt for only human flesh. They don´t care about cow patties or whatever the fuck normal bugs are concerned about. So as the sun was setting one would find me, bite me, or buzz around me waiting to land on me and attack. It was no use trying to shoo it away. Those evil fuckers are persistent. There were only two options: let it bite me or kill it. Obviously, I grab my weapon of choice (a empty two liter bottle), and head into the sun so I can see its shadow then seek and destroy. I look like an idiot, half battering my self, half swinging at nothing. Eventually I manage to give it a good whack and kill it. I´ve never felt so satisfied killing another living thing. By the time I left one campsite, I was up to about ten confirmed kills and maybe half a dozen wounded.

The next few days I spent riding hard through long, cold, and rainy days. I was nearly frozen and soaked to the bone, so I stopped in Valdivia. It was a bit off the Pan-Am, but I needed shelter quick. I was lucky to find a budget room with hot showers and a garage. I stayed a few days because frankly, I was tired of the fucking rain. So in between spats, I ran out and did some touristy things. The best was this awesome little fish market. What made it so special were these humongous lazy sea lions. About six of them have gotten smart enough to realize that there´s always a free meal at the market. So probably by chance they swam fifty miles upriver and found a new home. It was fun watching them fight over fish scraps. And also just stand in awe of their enormous size. They looked the size and shape of a thousand pound football. Other than that, it was a cutesy little quite town at the start of Patagonia.

Lazy mofos

My first taste of the Futaleufú

Damage

I wanted to avoid taking a ferry, so I had to jump back into Argentina for a quick stint. On my way back over to Chile. I met some very nice and very enthusiastic older German guys. They were on a tour through Patagonia on some Yamahas geared more towards dirt. They were fascinated at how far I´ve come on my own. I loved the ego boost so I chatted a while with them. Then one guy, Dan, was really interested in my bike because he wants to start a tour group in the States and buy a dozen. (Nice. Another business option.) We all process our border paperwork and hit the road. They finish early, so they´re a bit ahead of me. I was glad to be back on pavement, so I let the throttle rock. It was a fun twisty, hilly two lane road. Only a few miles in, I hit a nasty spiral right hand turn that seams to be getting sharper and sharper. I give the breaks a good squeeze, and maintain complete control as I drop into a quick hard left. I notice the damage right away. There are two bikes crumpled on the side of the road. Two of the four guys just went down. Hard. I pull over and help the guy whose worse off. He´s badly shaken up, and has already fallen down after standing up. We all help him up, and soon enough he´s got his mind straight. He was wearing all the right safety gear, but still got pretty banged up. He´s going to need a lot of stitches and down time. The other guy was pretty well off. Just some bumps and minor cuts. It was a nice reality check for me because I´ve got way too much experience for that to ever happen to me. (Foreshadowing. Yes, I think so.) As the ambulance comes and I start helping load what´s left of the I bikes. I feel very well put into my place. Easily could have happened to me. Needless to say, I took the rest of that days drive a bit slower. It was only another twenty minutes until I hit my destination of Futaleufú. (Don´t worry, I can´t pronounce it either.) I´m only stopping there to white water raft on (according to my google search) the best river in South America. Tell you all about it later. Ciao!

1/12/2011 - Mendoza, Argentina: Seizure Nights

As you can imagine, I´ve had a lot of time to ponder sitting alone, musicless on my bike. A lot of things have come into perspective like life goals, friends, family, and careers. It´s becoming more and more clear that the things I once valued have evolved into new and drastically different goals and ideas. Though all my lofty life goals are generally the same: get super rich, find a smoking hot awesome wife, learn to play ´Piano Man´ by Billy Joel, travel the world, catch a foul ball at an Angels game and give it to a kid, start a family, and I guess make the world a better place. Anyhow, I now believe I have more options to achieve those goals. Take my career, I´m an Civil Engineer by trade and education. Whereas before I would have thought it´s a vast field with ton of different areas to work in. I now look at it as a means to an end. There is an entire planet ready to spend money and pay me for numerous different ideas, trades, and products. Therefore, I´ve decided to go into business upon my return to the United States. Life is just too fucking short to waste away in a cubicle doing something you don´t absolutely love. So, I´m off to become a self made man / millionaire. (I mean, come on, a million dollars isn´t that much nowadays. 1911 sure, but now?)


But before all that, I should maybe focus on this trip. Right-O. Anyhow, I´ve been traveling alone over the last month, and it´s definitely a new experience. There are ups and downs like anything. For example I get to meet tons more interesting and new people (it´s much easier to meet people on your own), I get to be totally selfish, and I don´t have to listen to anybody whine about stupid shit. Because I can just move on anytime I want. The downside is it´s lonely. Sometimes when I´m riding hard and camping, I only get to chat with gas station attendants and restaurant workers. No deep political convos there. But all in all, I´d have to say the pros outweigh the cons, and some solitude isn´t the worst thing for me.


Bored of all this serious mumbo jumbo? I am. So I´ll talk about something fun, like my stay in Mendoza. Which by the way is a super fun awesome city. It´s got fun locals, beautiful tree lined streets, and plenty of outdoor restaurants / patios everywhere. I get in and find what I think is a nice hostel. Then I met some people and saw the bathrooms. There was one guy in my room I wanted to shank so bad. First off, super rude to me as I´m reading in bed. There's a problem because my guitar is touching his trash bags full of stuff. Ugh. Then he slept under my bunk and snored and farted all fucking night. I´m a pretty heavy sleeper, but that was way too much. The last straw was in the morning when his fat ass woke up and turned on all the lights and was ridiculously noisy. For fucks sake it´s a hostel not your apartment. It was probably the worst hostel since the high strung, weird ass, Purple House in David, Panama.


Anyway . . . I switched hostels the next day because my friend Arielle is in town. You may remember her from such blogs as: ´The Terminator´, ´Quality Time With The Griswalds´, or ´Where Am I?´. (Man those are some pretty stupid blog titles when you look at them. Oh well.) I pull up to her hostel and find the big yellow bus parked outside. I´m stoked to see their stupid ´truck´ parked outside. I met them somewhere in southern Bolivia. I saw a group of gringos and the bus by the side of the road. They were all outside chatting and taking a break. It was about time for me to do the same, so I made the quick decision and stopped. It was super. They offered me coffee, and within minutes I had a whole bus full of new friends. Later that night we all met up again in Tupiza, Bolivia for dinner and drinks. It was a fun and albeit sane night.


Jump ahead a week and a half. I randomly catch up with them in Mendoza. I´m hanging at the hostel pool (yeah, the new hostel had a pool and no douche bags, instant upgrade) when all the yellow bussers come in. It´s a very welcome change to camping because I can converse with other humans in my native language. Later we all go out for some Mexican food. (Disappointing. I swear when I get back I´m going to be such a fattie and eat so many damn burritos and cheese burgers.) It´s a huge group, but we all make it work. And as the huge group windles down, I´m left with Arielle and two girls from the tour group. It´s pleasant chatting and drinking outside in the warm night air. Before we know it, it´s one in the morning. So we head back to see what the others are up to back at the hostel. There we play some pool and crack open another bottle of wine. I´d say about three, we all decide that dancing is best course of action. Not unusual since things in Argentina don´t pick up until three or four in the morning. Our cab driver eventually finds us an open club on a Wednesday, and we´re welcomed with five dollar drinks and a constant strobe light. We all definitely make the best of it, and have fun until the place closes. We all get back into the hostel and after a quick, cold dip in the hostel pool in our underwear. We all drift to sleep until the next afternoon.


The next day, I enjoyed doing nothing all day long. Then we all replayed the exact previous evening. Except this time we had pizza and free tequila for a half hour. Which BTDub is so dangerous. The bathrooms were wrecked, but at least the party livened up a bit. I guess cheap tequila has that effect. Later after leaving the same seizure inducing club, I´m brought home by a super nice local girl. I find all the yellow bussers packed up and ready to head out to Chile. It´s six in the morning, so people are either just waking up and grumpy, or have stayed up all night and are super cheery and perky. It´s funny to see the dynamics of a big group like that. I eventually decide that sleep is a good idea and pass out for a few hours. Much too soon, I´m woken up by a hostel worker saying it´s one in the afternoon, and I´ll have to pay for another night. No way. I jump out of bed and pack up only to find it´s eleven in the morning. Damn, well I´m up and have a border crossing, so I take off way too early and hung over. I fight the wind of the crossing over the Andes for a few hours, but eventually I find a nice sunny spot to eat some cookies and take a break. Still hungover, I end up taking a nice long nap by the side of the road. It was super awesome and refreshing. Thank goodness I´m traveling alone on a motorcycle, so I have the freedom to stop and chill where ever I want.


Later, I cross the border into the capital, Santiago (aka a whales vagina). I was greeted by the dirtiest motel / whore house in the city. Whatever, it was late and I couldn´t find a youth hostel. I was sad to leave Argentina, but I know I´ll be back soon. Next up is Chilean empenadas, wine country, fruit stands, forest and plenty of rain. Bienvenidos a Chile.

1/7/2011 - Cafayate, Argentina: Argentina Dreaming

It really felt like a legitimate road trip the other day in Argentina. I was headed on a scenic highway to wine country in Cafayate. It was a splendid drive where there were actual outlooks over scenic views and plenty of natural phenomena to gaze at along the way. I´d drive twenty miles then stop at a giant rock formation or huge millions year old crevices. It was great! It was just like Moab in Utah, except it had a giant natural rock shaped just like a toad. It was awesome, if only all the roads were that spectacular.

Toad rock. duh.

Finally! Wine country.

 Sadly that´s not always the case, as the following three days were long flat and boring. And as always filled with many roadside repairs. I´ve learned to just budget extra time for when shit breaks down on the bike. It´s too bad though because I was becoming a time liability for my buddy Ray. Eventually I told him to move on because I was broken down and it was going to take me at least an hour to fix my problem. So we said our goodbyes and he left me with some great inspirational words. I was pretty frustrated at the time because I didn´t have the proper tools to fix my bike on my own, so I had to see a mechanic. But what he said was: "the end of the world is waiting for you." I love it. I mean I´ve come this far, so no matter what happens I´m still going to make it. I instantly got in a better mood, and once my bike was fixed I took off smiling for a new destination.

Pretending to look cool with the self timer option on the camera. ha.

And now for something completely different. (Great segue, I know.) But really, learning a new language has been challenging yet fun and rewarding. Of course as an American, I only speak English, but it really did start when I was forced to take a second language for two years in high school. Luckily I realised that I lived near Mexico, so Spanish was probably a better choice than German. Like everyone else I slacked off and only did it for the grade. Luckily for me some vocabulary and most of the grammar stuck. Skip ahead ten years and I´m living in Spanish speaking countries for six months already. It´s always a new experience learning something new, but language is totally different. At first I surprise myself by actually thinking in Spanish. That´s a good start. It´s much better to start in Spanish rather than translate your thought from English. Then I started to learn the intricacies, and about how to say things we have no way of saying in English. It´s nice, but it´s like that in a lot of other languages too. In Danish they have no word for ´please´. So naturally you can assume all Danes are rude. :)

One of the last steps in learning for me was actually dreaming in Spanish. Now that´s crazy, but consciously lets me know I´m getting there. I can´t say something like: "I´m going to donkey punch you right in the baby maker, then slay a baby deer for breakfast", but really, how often am I going to have to get that thought across. Maybe once or twice max. I´m content with my current level of comprehension, but until I can understand everything in a random ass episode of Los Simpson; I´m not fluent. I´ll get there though.

Right now I´m practicing and camping my way ever southward. Soon I´ll be in Patagonia, fishing and hiking the days away. I´m nearing my hard fought goal of Ushuaia. It feels nice to be on the home stretch, but really there is so much to do and see before I head back to the real world. Unill next time..

1/6/2011 - Salta, Argentina: Emersion

I´m making the permanent switch to wine and beef here in Argentina. Wine, because it´s dirt cheap. For a good red it´ll cost about two bucks. And that´s not even bottom shelf! And beef . . . oh yeah. As soon as I crossed the border I got one of the best sandwiches I´ve ever had at, of all places, a runned down gas station. I had a Milanesa, which is almost like chicken fried steak, but super thin and topped off with a fried egg and veggies. It may have been because I spent four hungry hours at the border, but it was a welcome change from the soup and dry rice in Bolivia.

It´s weird, but yet again things drastically change at the border. No more goofy hats, round dark faces, or dirt roads. Here come Argentina with its uppity young travel scene, paved roads, and very Western / European culture. It all comes with a big price tag in comparison, but really I´m stoked to be able to find parts and have options come meal time.

First stop on the list is Jujuy (pronounced hoo-hooey). It´s New Years Eve and it´s a big city. I´m still traveling with Ray, so we hit the town for a drink. We find the one open bar, and it´s filled with sad drunks without family. I guess it must be a family holiday. It´s not really how we celebrate the new year in the States, but a relaxed New Years is just as well. While we were out, we did hear some very important information. The Dakar motorcycle rally is coming to town in a few days. So I stick around an otherwise desolate town so I can watch a bit of the biggest motorcycle race on the planet.

I find out there´s camping , so the day before I get all geared up to leave. On my way out of town, I hit a small ditch and notice my bike isn´t sitting right. Its another subframe bolt. They really are feisty little buggers. No big deal, I know where a tool shop is, so I head straight there only to find out it´s siesta time and they´re closed. Fuck siesta time. Everything is closed from one to five in the afternoon. What a hassle, so I head to another place for the slight chance they´re open. Then it happens again. My bike is snapped in two. This time I open the bike up to find that the extra stress of a missing bolt and water rusting out the inside of my frame has caused the actual frame to rip apart. So there I am again in a foreign country with my bike in shambles. No calling Triple A. Ray was kind enough to find someone who knew a mechanic. They arrived and told me that he´s bringing a truck to take my bike to the shop. Sweet. Saved again. I´m glad I broke down in the city rather than somewhere else. Too bad this giant fat guy arrived on the smallest motor scooter you´d ever seen. It was like a giant slobby, smoking clown, on one of those teeny little bikes. (I have the greatest picture of this dude, but its on my iPhone which finally died, oh well.) Not really what I was expecting, but he helped my jimmy rig the bike with my cable lock so I could get to the shop. Three hours, fifty bucks, and about twenty cigarettes later, I´m back on the road.

The next day was Dakar, and after a great nights sleep camping. I´m ready for the festivities. There are cool tents, bitching bikes, trucks, and motorcycle enthusiasts everywhere. After the madness died down, every passer by wanted a picture with Ray´s giant BMW. It was nice to kind of feel like a rockstar, since all the racers had their bike shipped to the start in Buenos Aires. Pssshh . . . pussies. Didn´t even ride there. It´s all in fun though, and it seems as if Argentina and Chile really are taking in the race well. It´s only been here three times in it´s long history. It hilarious when I´m buying empenadas on the side of the road or at a stop light and strangers ask if I´m in the race. I should probably lie, but it´s still fun.

Having fun and looking goofy at the rally

Then after late night and short days ride, I arrive in Salta. I set up shop for a couple of nights, as it´s supposed to be one of the coolest cities in South America, and I also desperately needed new parts. So after I got all my work done, I was ready to relax and have a drink at the hostel bar. Now I´ve been traveling for about five and a half months now, and this is the first hostel where all the backpackers spoke only Spanish. It was great, I got to practice and make some new Argentinian friends. We all go out for dinner, and have Parrilla. Which is some normal beef barbecue, but with a healthy portion of mystery cow guts. I´m guessing: heart, kidney, liver, intestines, and some crazy blood sausage. Intestines weren´t my fave, too chalky and chewy. But the heart was damn tender and tasty. Definitely a new experience. (Can you tell when I´m writing and hungry? Seems I like to talk about food a bit much. ha)

After our meal two new Argentinian buddies and I head out to down town. It´s a long walk, but when we arrive it´s awesome. It´s almost like the Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica. I´m begining to like Argentina. It was a blast dancing and chatting totally emersed in the culture. It´s funny we were all talking with these three girls who were totally uninterested until my buddies tell them I´m from North America. Instantly they were all smiles and eager to chat with us. It´s hilarious, but sometimes you´ve got to drop the "yeah, I´m on a motorcycle and driving to the end of the world" line. Anyhow we all dance for a bit then the girls take off. (Standard) and I somehow lose my buddies at the club. So I take the long stumble home solo, and call it a pretty awesome totally Argentinan night.

Too much fun in Argentina

12/30/2010 - Tupiza, Bolivia: New Friends And Street Food

I know my blogs have been kind of Debbie Downer lately, but things are picking up so they shouldn´t be so depressing.

Anyhow, it hasn't been long riding on my own. As luck would have it, as soon as I got back to La Paz I was able to meet up with a buddy, Raymond from Quebec. Facebook being of some use, other than a complete time waster, provided us with some nice random circumstance to meet up. In Oruro we met for the first time in two months. It was nice to be back on the road, heading South. Because I had to get the fuck out of La Paz. Party hostels are nice, but man every night is just too much. So I said my farewells to my new friends and took off.

Oruro was a little city, but it had a ton of cool giant sculptures. It reminded me a lot of Ecuador. I got there and again I'm the only tourist for miles. It's a nice change from La Paz. So after I get settled, I head out for some Internet and my new fave: salchipapas. Yes, more kick ass street food. I'm instantly taken in by locals because obviously I'm not from there, and I still love they're local food. It's funny when you are approached by people just because you're eating some greasy local specialty. After a night there I meet up with Ray and we head for the largest salt flats on the planet in Uyuni. A wrong turn later, and we take a gorgeous detour towards Potosi. The roads are actually decent and mostly paved, so I'm definitely ok with the error. The next day we made the trip to Uyuni. And I'm blessed with a mostly paved gorgeous ride. Bolivia is a stunningly beautiful country. And I definitely got to take a lot of it in. The colors were probably the most amazing I've seen yet. Purple mountains, blood red rocks, and deep green willow trees speckle the ride. All those people who were suicidal and depressed because they couldn't see the world in Avatar, are first off retarded, and second probably never got their fat asses off the computer. Because there really is some breathtaking scenery on this planet, and unless you get off your ass you'll probably never see it either. I'm lucky and happy to have the opportunity to see some of the things I've seen.

What a gorgeous drive.

The salt flats are next, and from what I hear they're truly spectacular. I  can tell you I wasn't disappointed. I pussed out and took a tour instead of traveling the flats by motorcycle. It was a tough decision, but eventually I decided that my chain is in such piss poor condition (it actually fell off the day before) to play it safe. Since if I camp in the middle of nowhere, and my chain breaks I'm pretty much doomed. A few German guys went into the flats, only to get lost. They were found dead three years later. Hence, the guided jeep tour. It starts off quite well, because my truck is filled pretty girls. Not so bad, then after a quick visit to a train graveyard we're off to the salt. You might think that just a bunch of flat land would be kind of boring. But really it was awesome being surrounded by nothing but white salt, blue sky, mirages, and far away glimmering mountains. After a bit we're taken to a cactus filled hill in the middle. It's astonishing to drive for forty minutes and not see a thing then, bam, a giant rock. It was so out of place. I actually took a few photos, and eventually we headed back. It was a simply stunning place that I'm super glad I visited.

These salt flats provide all the table salt in Bolivia. This is how they collect it.

Finally comes my last day comes in Bolivia, and I couldn't be more pleased. Though Bolivia has a lot of culture and beautiful scenery. It truly is the dumbest country I've visited. It's tough to say because Bolivia isn't necessarily a third world country, but it's close. It's because simple things that north Americans find easy, Bolivians struggle with. Simple business practices like being clean and friendly are just so far beyond them. It's so frustrating. Searching for a trashcan only to realize: there aren't any trashcans. Everyone just throws it on the street. It's really no wonder why they're the poorest country in South America. I'll be happy to get back to a modern civilization and kick ass beef in Argentina.

12/26/2010 - La Paz, Bolivia: A Very Merry Christmas Bender

There's only been one time on this trip where I actually wished I was back in cozy cubicle with a hot coffee and full day ahead. I was in a bank in Rurrenabaque. It all kind of hit me at once. I was totally alone, waiting in line to get money so I could go back into the pouring rain and try to fix my bike. I was finally ready to leave and drive the legit death road back to La Paz. Of course the day I'm ready to leave, it's pouring rain in the morning. It hadn't rained all week. Whatever, I was over the town and just wanted to keep on south, so I took off anyway. Only to find I can't shift gears, and as soon as I let out the clutch the bike dies. Damn it. I was not in the mood, but I've got no other options. I push my bike to some cover and address and fix the problems. Sixty bucks and a new battery along with some tinkering with my shift lever and I'm back on the road. It's been absolutely brutal with my bike lately. Every time I ride I encounter a new problem that fucks with me. I've got a good streak of eight straight days of crap. Here's a quick list of shit I've had to fix in the last week or so: battery, starter, chain, gear lever, clutch cable (twice), radiator, speedometer, hand guard, and chain guard. It's so fucking annoying when you finally get all geared up and as soon as you get on the road something like your clutch cable snaps again in the middle of the city. Thus is my life with a bike that's almost ten years old. Next bike I own is going to be a bit newer, but for now I can only dream.


I´m pretty sure this isn´t supposed to happen.

Anywho, bike problems haven't been the only problems I've had over the last week or so. It's been a pretty deep valley here around the holidays. I guess it's not always sunshine and puppy dog tails. I didn't want to be alone for Christmas, but I was kind of forced to. Baby Gay attacked and fought me, hence no gift exchange there. Then my sweet Danish travel buddy, Teresa, had to go home as well. I couldn't help but laugh as the irony was oh too sweet and calculated. I, unfortunately, had to watch her ride away on a motorcycle taxi to the airport. What a fucking trip. I first have to leave my poor ex girlfriend, Nicole, on a bike. I still can't imagine what she felt like. Then a quick five months later I've got to watch a new friend leave on a motorcycle. Trust me, the cruel irony is not lost on me. It was all too much. The inevitable loneliness of life on the road finally caught up to me. And I hate to admit this, but I was definitely bummed out. It was a combination of everything. Losing a great buddy of mine, wishing a fond farewell to a new friend, missing my family and friends from home, and not even being able to lose my troubles on the road since my bike has been fucked. As always though, I suck it up and point my bike south. It's a long damn road.

Inevitably, I do make it back to La Paz in time for Christmas. I check into a really nice party hostel for the next few days. I happened to meet some super fun and cool people in my dorm room, so since it's Christmas eve and we're in a party hostel we've got to have a couple of drinks. It all starts pretty tame as a group of us are chatting away over some beers. Then since we're a little too far away from the bar for comfort, we all make our way closer. Only to find we need to perk our selves up. Easy solution: Jäger Bombs! So after what seems like three or four, I'm not tanked, but damn close. The night continues with me being a chatty Cathy with everyone at the bar. It's going well, people are all in a good mood and happy to make small talk or dance with me. Inevitably our hostel bar has to close, and throw a bunch of perfectly drunk people back on the streets or worse their beds. My group would have none of this sleeping business, so out on the streets of La Paz we went. We all end up at a club then continue to dance and drink the night away. Later, I end up talking with some super cool dudes about everything from girls to religion and traveling. But before I know it they're heading back to their comfy hostel beds. Well that wasn't for me, not tonight. I've had too much shit go down, and I miss too many people to call it what I thought was an early night. Too bad I was so far gone I didn't realize it was eight in the morning. Time to talk to the last few people left at the bar. I make my way over to the last table of people, and find a giant group of Aussies. They're amazingly welcoming, and we all bullshit and drink for another four hours until we're all kicked out into the harsh Christmas daylight. I've just about had enough, so I leave my new buddies as they're staying at another hostel. I stumble back to my dorm and find my roommates almost dead. They're talking and still alive. So we all laugh as we recap the previous night. Then at about two in the afternoon I say goodnight and finally head off to sleep. Christmas bender complete.

12/18/2010 - Santa Rosa, Bolivia: The Terminator

My blog, my opinions. Tough shit.

Now this whole fiasco starts off with another bad idea. Here it is: don't go into the amazon jungle with five bottles of rum and ton of pent up anger. The results are far from delightful. Four bottles should just about do it.

The night began pretty well, since everyone is happy to be where they are. Watching another perfect amazon sunset with a big cold beer. At this point I've got my Danish girl, Teresa, our chick twinsies: Ariel and Christina, and BJ. Since it's our last night in the jungle, we all have plans to go big. Usual hilarity, drinking, toad taunting, and general goofing around ensues. All pretty normal, until the night starts winding down. Teresa and I are the last to head off to bed, and we see Christina outside of the room looking tired. After a giggly discussion we find out BJ and a Ariel are hooking up in the bed next to Christina's. She outside trying to wait them out. Then while us three are chatting Ariel comes out. Shocker! It meant that the dirty French couple in our room were hooking up the whole time. We also find out BJ threw up inside the dorm. It's an interesting turn of events for the night. So we get all chatty and giggly and razz passed out BJ about how he threw up in the room, how he didn't want sex, and how he's been a bad drinker since the dress incident in Panama.
Now what happened next I remember vividly. I hear the door open, and all of a sudden I get kicked in the back. I turn around to find the three girls scattering, as BJ is furious and yelling at me from the top of the stairs. He comes down on the jungle lawn and it starts getting intense because he's physically pushing me. I resist the urge to fight back, and I apologize to him because really I shouldn't have talked some shit about a good friend to some people I really don't know as well. It's to no avail, there's nothing I can do calm him down. He keeps pushing me, then while Christina and I are still trying to smooth the situation out. BJ starts slapping and punching me. That's it. I've resisted enough, I've told him repeatedly that I didn't want to fight him, but I'm done. He's going to meet my fists: Jack Johnson and Tom O'Leary. I take a wide stance, place my right leg behind his left, and give him a nice right cross across the jaw. He falls and is shocked to find we're actually into it. Christina, god bless her, is still helping, and pins BJ down temporarily and tries yet again to talk some sense into him. As this is happening, I walk away with hopes that it's over. I talk to the other poor girls that are watching two close buddies duke it out. I apologize because really, it's partly my fault. In hindsight I shouldn't have let up and really should have straight kicked the shit out him while his drunk ass was down. Would have saved me some trouble because I had no idea what was coming up next.

Then as I'm walking it all off by the river, BJ's back and is even more pissed because I "sucker punched" him.  I explain that I didn't sucker punch him because he was assaulting me. At this point the whole camp is awake, because there are only screen doors and he'd been yelling for a good time now. The guides are out and trying to calm the situations too, but there's no stopping BJ. Too much anger he needed to let out at me. Next up round two. I resist again, but I'm getting pissed. This is absurd, he was physically trying to hurt me, so we scrap again. BJ's too drunk to land any punches while I'm fighting back, so he does the only thing he can. He lowers his head and goes for my hips and a tackle. I keep my balance this time, steady myself with my left arm, and throw as many hard right uppercuts into his face before we topple over. We wrestle, and he gains dominant position, but I've got a good grip on both of his wrists, so he's not going to land any haymakers while I'm on the ground. Thank goodness for me, the tour guides are there and break it up before my grip slips away. We both talk more shit, and I walk away. Again.

This where it all becomes clear. I'm avoiding BJ because I'm totally over it. I lay in a hammock, and the yelling harassment continues. He's so wound up, that he talks shit on me for the next half hour or so. Everything from the women I see, to the amount of money I spend, blaming me for our accident, and even fucking motorcycle maintenance. Everything over the last four months that's ever pissed BJ off is coming out in the jungle. Whatever, I can handle it. He's still fucking pissed and continues to yell for me to come be a man and fight him. Again. I'm not having it, so I stay low with false hopes that things are going to blow over soon. Then he starts picking on Christina, Teresa, and Ariel. That's it, yell at me all you want, but don't pick on innocent girls. I come out again because things are heating up between BJ and Christina. So I emerge and try to calm him down and apologize. Surprise, surprise nothing works, and he wants to go again. We yell at each other for a bit, I mean what the fuck is going on? "BJ what are you? A fucking terminator? Calm down man." Again it turns to blows, then to wrestling. I just miss out on a sweet sleeper hold because we're sweaty and winded. He's a better wrestler, so he gets top position, and I finally let him know I'm done.


Hasta la vista. Baby.

We both get up tired, and it finally appears this babies temper tantrum is about done. I'm so over this, like I have been for the hour or so he's been on terminator mode, so I tell him four months was a good run and walk away for good. All in all the next awkwardly silent morning, I find I took some good punches to the face. I've got two black eyes, a broken nose, and a nice cut under my right eye.  BJ is pretty fucked up too, he's got some bruises on his face, his shoulder is so whacked out he can't even put his own shirt on, and he also has a very visibly broken pinky finger. Serves him right.


Damage.

I've realized that all these issues could have easily been solved with a serious discussion that never happened. A deep pent up anger isn't healthy, and obviously didn't turn out well for BJ as he lost a good friend that night. I'm done traveling with him, I don't need anything like that in my life. It was totally unacceptable behavior, drunk or not. I simply will not tolerate that kind of shit, so I'm now headed to the end of the road solo. Man breakup complete.