Ja Rule in Rio, Carnaval in Salvador

They say that laughter in life allows you to live longer and that boozin' and partying till the break of dawn shortens it. If I add up the experiences I have had over the past three weeks in Brasil, I'd say I came out even, if not a little ahead, as far as my life is concerne, thanks to the crazy Israelis I hung out with in Salvador.

I flew into Rio from Santiago because I found out I could actually make the last practice parade for Carnaval at the world famous Sambadrome. Besides, any longer in Santiago, and I really would have applied for the Websense gig in Chile.

Since I was going to Salvador for Carnaval (about two hours north of Rio via plane) this was my only chance to see the worlds' most famous party for myself. As a sidenote, while I was planning my trip around the world, there were only about three things I really HAD to do-- drink a pint of Guinness in Dublin, Oktoberfest in Munich, and Carnaval in Brasil. I chose to go to Salvador's Carnaval early on because I heard that it was much less expensive to participate in the "bloco," or the street parade, and that you can purchase tickets to join the party the day of, instead of months ahead for the Carnaval in Rio. Given my schedule, it was obvious which one made more sense. Besides, I can't do EVERYTHING on this trip-- gotta save something for later, right?

The practice parade was ok-- but understandably so. The Sambadrome was still packed (it was free, after all) and it was just incredible to see everybody's ability to samba! Little kids, grandmas, old men, you name it-- they got it down. I learned a very simple step but just didn't quite feel right with how my "bunda" (ass) was shakin. A few beers took care of that problem.

After the practice samba that night, I went to the "favela" of Rocinho, infamously known as "South America's biggest slum" with two French Canadadians (Frank and Francois, I know, what are the odds!!??) I met from the hostel to see Ja Rule and Fat Joe perform. Many locals in Rio would never even step foot in these places, but I figured nothing really crazy (like the common gunfights between cops and the drug lords) would happen that night with a couple of famous American rappers in the 'hood. As I have discovered over my trip, whether it be looking for a hotel room in the middle of the night in Cairo, or walking down unlit streets in Bulgaria, -- there really is not THAT much of a reason to be concerned. Either I get robbed of my material possessions, or I don't. Perhaps I'm just really lucky, or just completely stupid. Or both. Either way, my friends and I came out of that concert unscathed, although the teenage boys with pistols in their pants was a strange sight to see at 7am in the morning, when the concert ended. Shouldn't they be watching cartoons during that time????

The following day, I went to see Cristo Redontor (Christ the Redeemer) with my friends, even though I went a few years ago the last time I was in Rio. You can never see Jesus too many times in your life, right? Besides, I had to "redeem" myself because the first time I went, I actually did not realize "He" was Jesus Christ until one of my friends told me after. That story will be served up at a later time, hopefully never...

I flew out to Salvador to meet up with some Israeli friends I met back in Calafate, Argentina. I was having beers with them one night back at the hostel, and realized they were pretty funny dudes, and figured it would be a blast to hang with them over Carnaval. Allow me to introduce the cast of characters, as it will serve to be an interesting backdrop to our 10 day stay in Salvador:

Doron, aka "The Terrorist," (since that is what his mother calls him) He is half Afghani, half Iraqi, born in Israel and convinced he will never get a visa to visit America. I concur. He is the living embodiment of Rodney Dangerfield's famous line, "If it weren't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all." Case in point: He was jailed in Ireland for one week amongst rapists, murderers, and a Palestinian for (get this) overstaying his visa for two days. When I asked him why wasn't the Israeli embassy involved, and he replied, "They did, that's why I stayed a week." Apparently, the Israeli embassy bungled some paperwork and Doron ended up staying longer than necessary.

Ben, half Yemen, half Polish, but more like Danny DeVito, if he were black. One morning, after a heavy night of drinking, he was lying in bed and was moaning something about, "I am going to die.... I can't get up...arggggghhh...." Knowing his Kryptonite, I asked him, "Wanna go eat?" Without skipping a beat, he responded, "Ok." Ben was always one step ahead of everybody with the perfect self-deprecating punchline.

Av-Sharon, aka "Rain Man with Ebola." He had a persistent virus in his eye that he thought he would lose. Over the 10 days I knew him, he applied everything imaginable (besides the meds the doctors prescribed)-- eggs, teabags, cucumbers, salt, you name it. He was obessesed with applying the meds at the exact hour, down to the exact second. Normally that would not bother me except I was the only one in the group who had a watch. I still wake up in cold sweats in the middle of the night with Av-Sharon (and his diseased left eye) asking me what time it is, every hour, down to the exact second!

Avi, probably the most even-keeled guy out of the group (including myself probably), but that's like saying which guy is the the sanest in a mental ward.

On our first night, Doron, with his infinite supply of bad luck, gets detained by the police for suspicion of possessing drugs (he wasn't.) Despite this, the police officer made him put both arms out and was struck by the baton...twice!

During Carnaval, there really isn't anywhere convenient to piss. Most people just urinate in the stairwells leading down to the beach, which is pretty disgusting actually. My first night, I was so traumatized by stepping in pools of piss with my slippers on that I bought a pair of cheap shoes the next day just for Carnaval. On our second night, Doron, with his unending string of bad luck, happened to be so drunk that while walking upstairs, he fell backwards down the staircase head over heels. He's like the bad actor in those B-grade movies who falls forwards when he is shot in the chest twenty times. When I asked him how it felt to fall down a flight of stairs and land in a pool of about 8,394 guys' piss, he told me, "It was amazing. It was like I was flying!"

One night, we got a little tired of the Carnaval in Barra, the main one in Salvador, and decided to go to Pelourinho, about twenty minutes away by car. It was much more low key, and I think Avi, Ben and I were the only ones who weren't locals. My ass got grabbed a couple of times, and a huuuuge woman literally grabbed me like a ragdoll with one arm and kissed me. Well, kiss isn't really the right word, as I really thought she was just going to eat my head off. Luckily for me, she didn't like Chinese food much and spat me back out into the parade.

Many of you, including myself, will be disappointed to see I did not take too many pictures during Carnaval. The crowds in the streets are so packed that sometimes I did not even have to walk on my own. The chances of getting pickpocketed were pretty high, so I decided not to carry my camera. However, for the last night of Carnaval, I bought a disposable one-time use camera, because, well, it was the last night. I got separated from the rest of the group that night, and ended up chatting it up with a nice lovely lady. We had a beer, spoke a bit and then she kissed me! (Man, these Brasilian girls are forward, eh?) Then she wanted $25 for her, ahem, professional services. Turns out, she was a prostitute! I declined, and left to go look for my friends. She chased after me, yelling all kinds of Portuguese poetry, and I decided to sneak into another bloco to hopefully lose her, which didn't work. She started berating me and scratching my chest and right when I realized she was actually hurting me, (adrenalin and booze will do that to you) the police showed up. Remembering Doron's first day, I figured at the very least, my arms were going to get a lashing. This crazy woman could have told the police anything! Four of them were restraining her, and one took me aside to ask me what was going on. I told them in Spanish, in my best, sincerest, "I'm the good guy" look that this crazy woman was chasing after me for no apparent reason except to give her money for services not rendered. (Or maybe she just wanted me to kiss her more???) Thankfully, the cop let me go, and I found my friends back in the safety of our own bloco.

The rest of the night was actually recounted back to me by my friends, as I apparently got Daniel drunk again. Allegedly, some really famous song came out and a dance circle broke out in our bloco. I then proceeded to dance in the middle with my, ahem, signature dance move- the one where you put both of your hands on your knees, and switch them back and forth, something obviously very different than the samba. Apparently, the circle of people around me started chanting, "Jackie Chan!!! Jackie Chan!!!! Jackie Chan!!!!"

I woke up the next morning to realize that I not only sprained my ankle, (did that happen in the dance circle?) but my camera was also missing! So, I got physically and verbally abused by a prostitute, almost got my arms swatted by police, sprained my ankel, got my camera stolen, and got the locals to chant Jackie Chan to my crazy inebriated dance moves. Pretty standard stuff, eh?

"So....What are you going to do when you get back?"

One of the most common questions I have received over my travels is what I am going to do when I get back to the US. Given that I "only" have about three more months left, I've begun to think more about what it is I really want to do. I've never felt so free in my life during this trip-- to do as I please, whenever I feel like, whatever I want, whereever I prefer, and however I choose, so it will be a difficult transition back to this thing called work. I will need counseling.

Assuming I do get back to the US, of course, there are a few options I have been seriously considering. The first and primary option is to open a hostel in Mammoth. I would get to snowboard and live the rugged mountain life, and who knows, maybe I'll even be able to grow a half-beard (fu man chu, whatever!) I've stayed in enough hostels to know what works and what doesn't. The downside to this is that it would be a huge financial risk, given the current environment. However, almost every successful entrepeneur I've ever read about started their business in the most difficult conditions. As the saying goes, with every crisis, there lies an opportunity.

The second choice would be to move to Denmark for a bit just so I can take advantage of the 6 week vacations there! Yeah, I know, "Haven't you had enough travelling already, Daniel?" The answer is a resounding no. I will never tire of seeing the world.

The third would be to go back to my old career in security software sales back in Los Angeles, or..... in Chile! Just out of curiosity recently, I looked up my old company's website while I was in Santiago and saw that there was an opening for a sales position here. Though Chile wasn't necessarily high on my list of places to live in prior to coming here, my recent visit convinced me that it would be a feasible option. I speak the language, it's close to ski resorts, tons of great wines, and, well, frankly, after travelling around the world, I feel as though I can acclimate to any country for awhile.

After my experience in Ghana, I have also been looking into the idea of working for an NGO somewhere in Africa, (or maybe even starting one myself!) Hunger, starvation and the world's problems will always exist, and I realize that my existence isn't just about me anymore. (For those of you who know me better, I am sure you are just as surprised about this admission as I am!)

Of course, if all else fails, I can always marry Shakira and continue living my jet set life, but she hasn't returned my phone calls and, well, the situation is looking not so good.

Needless to say, there are tons of options, but the great thing is that even when this trip is over, I will still have the option of doing whatever I want, whereever I prefer, and however I choose. Life is great, isn't it?

Chillin' in (Hot) Chile

After about a month of pretty bland food in Argentina, I was really happy to see that my first meal was accompanied by salsa, with CILANTRO!!! Those of you who know my propensity for all things cilantro can understand how excited I was about this. I spent the day walking around the streets of Santiago and I realized that it really reminds me of East Los Angeles in a weird kind of way. Mountains surround the eastern part of the city, and of course, everything is in Spanish, the air is a bit smoggy-- felt just like home!

Over the past month and a half, I´ve realized that being able to speak Spanish has paid dividends over and over again. A free beer here, a free bus ride there, a side dish of something special from the restaurant owner-- it all adds up and I´m just happy that this genorosity and hospitality is mostly due to the fact I am a foreigner who speaks their language. I´ve also come to the conclusion that elderly people are the best people to ask for directions. Some have even offered to walk me to where I need to be, so I suppose that´s something to keep in mind in the future. We have a lot in common I suppose, as neither of us have anywhere really to go right away!

After one quick day in Santiago, I decided to head out to Viña Del Mar, a coastal town about two hours west of Santiago. I saw the Pacific Ocean for the first time in over 9 months, and was somewhat nostalgic about LA, especially after being in Santiago. Sigh... only 3 more months left before I have to head back home. More on that later in a different post....

I met Katie (Texas) and Rachel (Michigan) at the hostel and spent the day hanging out in Valparaiso. Funny thing happened that day. Katie slipped and fell on her butt and subsequently, her left butt cheek shook (quite rapidly actually) uncontrollably for a few hours. "It´s moving by itself, I can´t stop it!!" "I feel like a rap video ho!!!" "Beyonce ain't got nothin on this!" Man, I haven´t laughed that hard in such a long time.... but after a half hour of this, we kind of started to worry. Like, what if it shook forever? Katie and I discussed the pros and cons of this at length and came to the conclusion that she'd make some good money for a few years, but after that would have a hard time getting a real job. We went back to the hostel, she had half a bottle of wine and everything was fine.

We also met a few other people from the hostel, one funny guy named Thomas-- favorite quote from him "I maht be from Louiiiisianah, but I´m nawt stupid." Thomas and Katie exchanged hilarious stories about growing up in the South over dinner and I realized that they had very different experiences than I did in LA. Like, shooting empty cans with shotguns at the age of 12, or, how to skin an armadillo (you hang it upside down on a tree), and the grunting noises they make when the stubborn bastards burrow under your house. Thomas also told me about this restaurant that serves roadkill, and I´m definitely going to make a pit stop there on my way back home.

After three nights in Viña Del Mar, I headed back to Santiago, to hang out with Sonia, a friend I met in Punta Del Este. She invited me over to her place to have "once," which is basically evening tea time....at 8pm! Sonia and her mother had a hard time understanding how Americans can eat dinner at 7. We spent the rest of the evening just talking about all the random things people talk about when you´re from different countries. I learned a few new Chilean phrases, like "pato malo" which directly translates to "bad duck," but really means "criminal." Neither of them had any idea as to why such an innocent bird can be used to describe bad guys. Sonia recommended I go to the Parque Mahuida the following day, and to make sure I take a ride on the Roderbahn.

When I arrived there, I saw this sled on wheels with no seat belt, no safety harness, nothing. The attendant just gave me two instructions, pull back to slow down, and push forward to go, well, as fast as you want to. I recalled the movie, "Cool Runnings" and realized that I felt like I was in a similar situation. Before I took off, I asked the attendant if it was safe to just go straight down without slowing down. He responded, "If you want to, but you might fall off if you´re not careful on the turns." The first ride down, I took it easy but decided to go the second time around full blast.... with my camera on my right hand! I know, probably not the wisest thing to do but I just had to do it because these rides, or, death sleds, just wouldn´t exist in the US. Unfortunately, my last turn was held in check by a father and daughter going much slower than me, but was still a blast!


All in all, good times again! Off to Brasil for CARNIVAL!!!!

Mucho Malbec in Mendoza

Mendoza was full of adrenalin-filled adventures and wine-fueled fun. The city itself has a very different vibe than Buenos Aires. The sidewalks are wider, for one thing, and the people here seem to know how to walk. (ok no more picking on the porteños!) I would even argue that Mendoza is a nicer city, but of course, that's just my opinion.

On our first day in Mendoza, Dana and I wanted to go wine tasting, however, most of the wine tours started at 8am, and neither of us had the energy to get up that early after our respective journeys (Dana took a 12 hour overnight bus from Buenos Aires, whereas I flew 2 hours from Buenos Aires to Santiago, then a 7 hour bus from Santiago to Chile... don't ask) Instead, we did our own little wine tasting within the city, bar hopping at wine o'clock, and ordering as much Malbec as possible.

The great thing about that day was that we had really nothing planned except to drink wine, and to find a place to watch the Super Bowl later in the evening. We found a bar right across from one of the restaurants we were hanging out at, and about 15 minutes into our first glass of wine, we noticed smoke rising out from one of the buildings behind it. A fire truck soon arrived, and an episode of the Keystone Cops ensued. One of the firemen rolled out the fire hose, but lost control of it as it rolled down the street. Once he took posession of said hose, he mosied on up the ladder to begin the firefight. There was no yelling or running around, surprisingly, and it seemed like these guys were not in a hurry at all to put out the fire. About an hour later, a second fire truck rolls in, and Dana noticed one of them was smoking a cigarette! We couldn´t help but laugh at the irony of it.

Later we hung out with a couple of Nurses from New York, Jenny and Kelly, we met from the hostel to catch the Super Bowl. We all had a blast watching it in an Irish bar, (naturally) even though there were only about 10 of us watching/screaming/yelling in the bar amidst 50+ other locals watching the other big game in town (Boca Jr. vs. River Plata.) There was even a German guy who knew more about American football than most of my friends! One of the guys at the bar happened to be a friend of my friend back in San Diego-- small world!

All four of us surprisingly woke up at 8:30 am the following morning (errr..a few hours later) to go trekking and rapelling, completely hungover with maybe 10 hours of sleep between the four of us. Dana hurled, I dry heaved a couple of times, and I am pretty sure the New York Nurses weren't faring any better.

After Dana left, (those Americans with their wonderful 10 day vacations!)I decided to stay a few more days to go white water rafting and of course, to do some more wine tasting. It was my first time going rafting and I was excited that it was a Class 4 river, which meant some pretty hairy parts. Somehow, I ended up being put in the front by our capitan, who sat in the way back. Every once in a while, he would yell forward (or was it backward?) and I would dig deep into the water, only to realize that I was paddling through air since the nose of the raft was perched high over a crest. One split second later, a splash of ice cold water would completely envelope me-- I could hear El Capitan continue to yell something, but I hadn't the faintest clue what he was saying. During the calmer moments he would tell me and the Swedish guy to my right that we were all screwed up and that we weren´t doing anything right. No wonder the Swedish guy took a dive... twice! Funny thing about the Swedish guy, the first time he fell over, I had to pluck him out of the water but had a hard time pulling him out because I was laughing so hard at this huge green booger on his nose. He had this look of near panic, which only made it worse for me because, well, how can I take a guy seriously with a big booger on his nose? I didn't tell him, though, since I figured the next nose dive (ba-dum-dump-ching!) would take care of business. The second time he fell over, I again had to yank him out, and this time I was dying of laughter because the same (?) booger was still on his nose! It must have been firmly anchored in with some cable strength nose hairs. Impressive. Luckily, I never fell off the raft, though I came close a couple of times.

All in all, good times in Mendoza. I rented a bike on my last day and went to about 3 (or was it 4?) different wineries. As a sidenote-- those of you who think Napa's $20-$30 wine tastings are expensive, you should come down here... for $3-$5, they will pour two three FULL glasses of wine. Talk about cheap! Me likey!

Argentina, Uruguay pics, round 2

Pics from Iguazu and El Calafate (finally!)