tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31313506228354204072024-03-05T10:05:08.819+03:00A-Rod Aroundajrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221103219153345134noreply@blogger.comBlogger233125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131350622835420407.post-88835346401351981872013-08-25T13:20:00.003+03:002013-08-25T13:20:51.880+03:00A New CountryUganda, USA, now I'm off to Sweden. Read about my experiences in Sweden at: <a href="http://www.arodgoesabroad.blogspot.com/">Living and Learning in Sweden</a>ajrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221103219153345134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131350622835420407.post-77189548987240083642011-10-25T03:30:00.004+03:002011-10-25T23:52:01.497+03:00Love Makes The World Go 'RoundI have a new love. He's only a few short days old but his wrinkled hands, translucent skin and murky eyes have captured my heart. My friends Ashley and Bart had a baby boy on Sunday night. It was moments of tension, disbelief, excitement and a new love previously unknown. New life is one of the most incredible moments in life. I am always in awe.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsUCttSB7OGZZ9yyXo2TCGPfDMcvSUsU9gREn3v6dtE7SkvH6-UojittJXrvK6h83cx0hyGZsQQqcqua_yeYlXetxO_1ez3mPZOiL3x_lb_-LiZHSpnGSJkEV6XAoScg6D5QqOJXEh3YA/s1600/sweet+Max.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsUCttSB7OGZZ9yyXo2TCGPfDMcvSUsU9gREn3v6dtE7SkvH6-UojittJXrvK6h83cx0hyGZsQQqcqua_yeYlXetxO_1ez3mPZOiL3x_lb_-LiZHSpnGSJkEV6XAoScg6D5QqOJXEh3YA/s320/sweet+Max.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667422846374498978" border="0" /></a>The funny thing about love is that it can be limitless. It multiplies, grows and spreads beyond human comprehension. I have many different loves in my life. Numerous experiences and opportunities have given me the chance to love and be loved. Love is something I am always learning about and hoping to spread.<br /><br />It is with much love that I say goodbye. This is the end of my blogging here. I used this space to share my life and experiences living in Uganda and then my readjustment back to life in the States. The time has come to move on now. I am moving back to the West Coast tomorrow. I think readjustment will be a life-long process because Uganda forever changed my life. I have learned more about myself, my values and priorities, my desires, my family and friends, my responses, my hopes and my understanding of love. One thing I appreciate about life is that it is always changing. As hard as change is for me, I am excited to keep on changing and growing and learning more about myself and life as time goes on.<br /><br />May peace and love reign!ajrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221103219153345134noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131350622835420407.post-78384018225587550842011-10-21T19:31:00.007+03:002011-10-25T20:38:44.779+03:00Leaving The Familiar<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdm0pwfCf-1fvdBBa5_ahqj-M18EbwGjf3Pff23toEKTr1n_-Kp3lbd7qv0eZiWtc6ddcn0k46dB8QhQ6Zi10rGcIz0GZQbXHoG5-dzCxz3Joao2GL8tcvxr8NfI-HvDDbYphIEJzQdyM/s1600/at+the+lake.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdm0pwfCf-1fvdBBa5_ahqj-M18EbwGjf3Pff23toEKTr1n_-Kp3lbd7qv0eZiWtc6ddcn0k46dB8QhQ6Zi10rGcIz0GZQbXHoG5-dzCxz3Joao2GL8tcvxr8NfI-HvDDbYphIEJzQdyM/s320/at+the+lake.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667422552588841778" border="0" /></a>My chest is heavy and the tears are constantly at the back of my throat. Change is coming. I am making lists and deciding what to pack in my head. I am having last minute coffee dates and quick trips to all corners of the State. I'm saying goodbye to friends and family. I have been fairly displaced for the last few months traveling from one adventure to the next using Minnesota as my base. Now, I am making that last jump to be permanent for an indefinite amount of time. But it means packing one more time and having to say goodbye to people and places I love.<br /><br />The Land of 10,000 Lakes has a beauty of familiarity for me. This is where I grew up. The combines harvesting in the fields, the sun setting on the lakes, the Minneapolis skyline, the bluegrass bands playing with washboards and spoons, the flannel wearing bearded urban woodsmen, are all pictures of comfort and safety. It is a world I understand.<br /><br />It is also a place where snow covers the ground for way too many months and temperatures don't rise above freezing for weeks/months on end. As much as my heart loves this place, I don't love winter and I don't want to do it this year. I can't go back to the equator right now but I can take myself off to a place without coming snow, ice and freezing temps. I am looking forward to not having to shovel my car out and pay high utilities because of heat.<br /><br />I don't fear change since I make it happen so often. But I really hate it. And I struggle with the process of change. Once again, and hopefully for the last time for a long time, I am fighting that clench of anxiety and overwhelmingness that courses through my whole body making me shaky and often immobile. I have made this choice to move and I know it is right but it is hard.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Becky was visiting from Georgia! She loves Fall and even Winter in Minnesota<br />but notice she doesn't live here anymore either.</span></span><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1JdFUhBRsuV_nfE2BtQQbavvJdUQ959DNPSHCiHVZOA7lSuT-lQiJRBEApERb-d52A29ldvzueQA-Nqe0_Ba8t4U06VhdCUJYwvoVV6VarViV2HKqsrrMLEEUk-6Ve9WTGHWo6oSB7hk/s1600/becky%2521.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1JdFUhBRsuV_nfE2BtQQbavvJdUQ959DNPSHCiHVZOA7lSuT-lQiJRBEApERb-d52A29ldvzueQA-Nqe0_Ba8t4U06VhdCUJYwvoVV6VarViV2HKqsrrMLEEUk-6Ve9WTGHWo6oSB7hk/s320/becky%2521.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667422470581611698" border="0" /></a>ajrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221103219153345134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131350622835420407.post-46266205216072664122011-10-20T01:02:00.013+03:002011-10-21T23:55:47.296+03:00Once Upon A Time I Met My Best Friends<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvn-zP0lCnlOsTyv1g7-tDewyVkQwNuXPOiGrAwjERbs7N5Zdrjs2TVA6ni4Ut2eqFbohGSNtTuxDycCU0pGe3yGClPXaeIB-hF_vfQcN2EjblmDQnHFdQXpci_csPnmZYCMIRg5fr7V8/s1600/all+us+girls.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 217px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvn-zP0lCnlOsTyv1g7-tDewyVkQwNuXPOiGrAwjERbs7N5Zdrjs2TVA6ni4Ut2eqFbohGSNtTuxDycCU0pGe3yGClPXaeIB-hF_vfQcN2EjblmDQnHFdQXpci_csPnmZYCMIRg5fr7V8/s320/all+us+girls.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665330220296336866" border="0" /></a>Once upon a time, in 2003, I went canoeing in the Adirondack Mountains for 12 days. The liberal arts college I was going to attend required a wilderness credit and I chose to do it before starting school so that I would meet people and have friends going into my freshmen year. When I received my list and discovered I was assigned to the all girls patrol I was not happy. What I didn't know was that this group of girls would become some of my biggest supporters throughout college and some of my best friends in life.<br /><br />LaVida (the wilderness program) introduced me to 9 very different women from across the United States. We didn't all become best friends but we were all friends. And we were there for each other during our years of college. We would reunite once a semester and catch-up on what was new or the same. I always knew those girls would be there for me if I ever needed them. And now, a few have stayed close and continue to share in my life.<br /><br />Lisa was very quiet on LaVida but she had an adventurous spirit that was evident. She liked to sit back and observe everyone. She wore a blue bandana and it was always sticking up in the back. Throughout my college years Lisa remained a friend. She made me laugh and she thought I was funny. Flattering. As the years since college have flown by we have had similar gypsy tendencies and found ourselves living in different cities and countries - never together but both experiencing similar lives.<br /><br />Once again Lisa is wanting to travel and so I found her in Minnesota for one day interviewing for a job in Germany. I couldn't pass up the fortune of us being in the same State so I picked her up from the airport, waited while she had her interview, then spent a few hours catching up before she flew out once again. It was good to chat about the world and our place in it.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Lisa sleeping in the lean-to wearing her blue bandana - 2003</span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-wcutsS7bYwBDwfByIdXusyeHno2m8xkBj4U2OTVq9tfV9_6QbhFZuUSLeliBQacLxRYgE3Lz3wLbUlxudeVFxsyTlTH0D8pRCWJn3ko5wy9PROxujtVCnUwugOe7g3tDFVwjrE_JkDo/s1600/lisa+sleeping.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 217px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-wcutsS7bYwBDwfByIdXusyeHno2m8xkBj4U2OTVq9tfV9_6QbhFZuUSLeliBQacLxRYgE3Lz3wLbUlxudeVFxsyTlTH0D8pRCWJn3ko5wy9PROxujtVCnUwugOe7g3tDFVwjrE_JkDo/s320/lisa+sleeping.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665329654972673554" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Lisa and I drinking tea and sharing adventures - 2011<br /></span></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFZndh9rW0RifBmISRYTUNgv6mQxeve7sf6uCKMXE_IhlY23v41GN0aJxaWrK9Cy9wqeNeBEklTm2QYftNUVydtpPbh45GW7xJ-FRv08pQw2W8i4YQuQqVE0Z6MZh2CiNmu79NqRgJZfI/s1600/lisa+and+me.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFZndh9rW0RifBmISRYTUNgv6mQxeve7sf6uCKMXE_IhlY23v41GN0aJxaWrK9Cy9wqeNeBEklTm2QYftNUVydtpPbh45GW7xJ-FRv08pQw2W8i4YQuQqVE0Z6MZh2CiNmu79NqRgJZfI/s320/lisa+and+me.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665333718465124258" border="0" /></a>I've written of her before but Bridget and my life also started together on LaVida. She cried as the LaVida van pulled away and she left her mom. She claims I asked ridiculous questions. But despite our rough start, thinking the other was crazy, we built a friendship. We lived on the same floor as freshman and later shared an apartment. We have vented over dirty dishes and cooked fun meals together. We have been there through break-ups and new relationships. We have asked personal questions and shared our hearts. We have written letters and made expensive phone calls when the distance separated us. We have stuck it out and owe a lot to LaVida.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Bridget and I snuck to the lake while we were supposed to be on a solo time - 2003</span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1PWKNgSd1eXBcvwWT5kIeOXWOycnarvA8ghyphenhyphenY_cLORD8kn5ACQ39x-CQ8meMkD7RvaGxVrP2R4R1_PtlfqhtYOq-DOL6-4bpulfSIW9wDhKM7IK2kNRO-EtxFD_XVLP0fK1BkESuJKCY/s1600/Bridg+and+I+on+the+beach.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 217px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1PWKNgSd1eXBcvwWT5kIeOXWOycnarvA8ghyphenhyphenY_cLORD8kn5ACQ39x-CQ8meMkD7RvaGxVrP2R4R1_PtlfqhtYOq-DOL6-4bpulfSIW9wDhKM7IK2kNRO-EtxFD_XVLP0fK1BkESuJKCY/s320/Bridg+and+I+on+the+beach.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665329654181411042" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Bridget with her baby Parker at the beach - 2011</span></span><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBBG4Pfye4keXhNfGSpk83pnDhk7ooHaoGwSAL0LTJpj6BqDMN6anIZuCAe6SDjPD6DcQp1VmCYRVQaEOu-_cVyLnRFwK129QzV1LocKM1yoSD6QKmXCTDQGHS1EBlpTFzlbmeXkYIL1I/s1600/DSCF7126.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBBG4Pfye4keXhNfGSpk83pnDhk7ooHaoGwSAL0LTJpj6BqDMN6anIZuCAe6SDjPD6DcQp1VmCYRVQaEOu-_cVyLnRFwK129QzV1LocKM1yoSD6QKmXCTDQGHS1EBlpTFzlbmeXkYIL1I/s320/DSCF7126.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665334444814041154" border="0" /></a><br />And, always, there was and is Jenelle. Jenelle is my kindred spirit, my best friend. From knowing what it means to be gluten-free to digging in a little harder with that J stroke in the water, she's there. Jenelle lets me rant and rave and understands what I mean at the end of it all. She asks the maddening question, "How does that make you feel," and won't let me get away without being introspective. We've lived together as roommates and confidantes. We've tried oil swishing diets and daily walks to the beach. We've procrastinated papers together and skipped work. We've shared more tears than anyone could imagine over both rational and irrational feelings. We've come a long way from that canoe on Lake Placid. And I'm so glad we're still going.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Jenelle and I in bandanas cooking dinner on LaVida - 2003</span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg64SbT3NN3iSe_1smtUsa7Jap6-JNC-fieyXpNjKFr4eJx811_17p0SJXCSGKMFnK8VnM11LoN_7d20MCXsITBWxQEm2ZggGHO0UsdG4i8cHQrqNr4L6rEc_9qYmdZkaiy_ycX2gc_Vj0/s1600/cooking+with+jenelle.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 217px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg64SbT3NN3iSe_1smtUsa7Jap6-JNC-fieyXpNjKFr4eJx811_17p0SJXCSGKMFnK8VnM11LoN_7d20MCXsITBWxQEm2ZggGHO0UsdG4i8cHQrqNr4L6rEc_9qYmdZkaiy_ycX2gc_Vj0/s320/cooking+with+jenelle.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665330312956064626" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Jenelle and I with Oakland and San Francisco behind us - 2011<br /></span></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE-JRMUGpZj_f_8e3SfX8QePkvU8dBylulrAD5AvHaizNnVWaLaLGS5_Fg08GP00_TbwgNWBsrZTKJ4YARB2ZaJIVFqtpZ0LwxOBi0IAnb8TO7mA0rjhUBer4pQygHl_N3CSDQ14oVuQQ/s1600/Jenelle%252C+me+and+the+Bay+area.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE-JRMUGpZj_f_8e3SfX8QePkvU8dBylulrAD5AvHaizNnVWaLaLGS5_Fg08GP00_TbwgNWBsrZTKJ4YARB2ZaJIVFqtpZ0LwxOBi0IAnb8TO7mA0rjhUBer4pQygHl_N3CSDQ14oVuQQ/s320/Jenelle%252C+me+and+the+Bay+area.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665332941732584946" border="0" /></a><br />Those girls I met on LaVida shaped and defined much of college for me. Some of them are still providing guidance and comfort. I am so very thankful for getting assigned to that all girls patrol and canoeing around the Adirondacks with them. My life is greater because of these friends. May we carry on many more adventures together!ajrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221103219153345134noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131350622835420407.post-7337261253785196622011-10-18T18:16:00.004+03:002011-10-18T19:32:12.078+03:00InterviewsIt is about time for me to head back to the Bay Area. I've spent the last few weeks farming and enjoying Fall but it is now time to go back and work. I have been applying for jobs and even had some phone interviews. Hard to imagine on the farm, right? What do phone interviews even look like when in rural MN out of reach of cell phone service? Well, I drive to the nearest cell phone tower at a gas station and sit in my car. When I think about the other person on the line seeing me like this I laugh. I am quite the site let me tell you.<br /><br />Yesterday, two of my sisters and myself all had interviews. I went to the gas station while the other two had face-to-face interviews. Ash was offered the job immediately. Melissa and I have to wait. But it is encouraging to have made it to this step. It's exciting to think of the new lives we can make for ourselves. The possibilities are somewhat endless. So here I go once again. Making moves and choices and creating new adventures.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Sisters together for the first time in almost 2 years!</span></span><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg670eq14zW_8l7B4qzIkGW1bdIYmWbIyU_I5pSawtotC9b0qbiN4fAwVFx8DqZnpC16RtMjq51tRx0UYb7TV5rvGZUoXuE8RscnTpaT017K4bui_jjNlUG6VHVArFg56iqIu55AoTsYoc/s1600/sisters.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 215px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg670eq14zW_8l7B4qzIkGW1bdIYmWbIyU_I5pSawtotC9b0qbiN4fAwVFx8DqZnpC16RtMjq51tRx0UYb7TV5rvGZUoXuE8RscnTpaT017K4bui_jjNlUG6VHVArFg56iqIu55AoTsYoc/s320/sisters.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664856587019030514" border="0" /></a>ajrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221103219153345134noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131350622835420407.post-22300058708877448342011-10-14T23:32:00.004+03:002011-10-15T04:55:10.869+03:00Progression of Life<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLk6StikqsDjcZ07YEDRW63kfQxaudvE9opUSs9IxJACEGsEMtHwFwAjsOwv05brUDPCvjpfiG21VtZ2TV3uhInfSDD1FC-VBBxXBaFfzOdxdEGQ5Ux3cuhy9ZSeM6ejww9HOWiWeYdoU/s1600/adelynn+growing+up.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLk6StikqsDjcZ07YEDRW63kfQxaudvE9opUSs9IxJACEGsEMtHwFwAjsOwv05brUDPCvjpfiG21VtZ2TV3uhInfSDD1FC-VBBxXBaFfzOdxdEGQ5Ux3cuhy9ZSeM6ejww9HOWiWeYdoU/s320/adelynn+growing+up.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5663448480999451778" border="0" /></a><br />My childhood friend who I went to visit in Montana when she had a baby came back to Minnesota to visit. Her dad was in an accident so she came to see him and help out. Mostly, I would say changes in my friends are slight and the evidence of time is not so apparent. None of that can be said in regards to children. With Sarah, who hasn’t changed, came Adelynn, Sarah’s 5 month old daughter. I met Adelynn when she was 2 weeks old. Now, at 5 months, she looks like a different person. So much growth and change has happened. <br /><br />My friend Ben and his wife had a baby and I went to visit them. It was so fun seeing Ben holding this little girl (Margot) and knowing that he is now a dad. Forever more Ben is a dad! What a crazy concept. One day you are not a dad and the next day you are. I love this stage of life: being part of my friends lives as they get married, buy houses, start families - what a cool time. As much as I hate personal change, I do love the progression of life. It amazes me. And makes me so excited.<br /><br />My sister got engaged! She was pretty confident Phill would ask her this weekend but she was very surprised when it happened on a Thursday. Phill was pretty nervous and excited beforehand. Afterwards, both were jittery with excitement and happiness. It was fun seeing them. Phill made a comment of how Ang was no longer his girlfriend. She is his fiancé now. And soon will be his wife. Events change words. How beautiful is that?!<br /><br />And so, life continues to progress in all its different forms.ajrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221103219153345134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131350622835420407.post-34934091147508408562011-10-11T03:15:00.005+03:002011-10-15T00:00:07.161+03:00Understanding<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsbjuIEr5ry82tFPvI9oxGF_nRFmIe-Lpj7djAT-M91PfC7uWDhJBg2_o1U1CVKeFM8xbj-gnjBjrtIZ0sX8ss7yKW8rUE6VTuodSnfiB9J9S0EBwHtQb3NNS_SoqsR6BFFNKjWjOvIRM/s1600/...Hunter%2521.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsbjuIEr5ry82tFPvI9oxGF_nRFmIe-Lpj7djAT-M91PfC7uWDhJBg2_o1U1CVKeFM8xbj-gnjBjrtIZ0sX8ss7yKW8rUE6VTuodSnfiB9J9S0EBwHtQb3NNS_SoqsR6BFFNKjWjOvIRM/s320/...Hunter%2521.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5663451840593378114" border="0"></a><font size="1"><span style="font-style: italic;">Hunter and I in Uganda (2010)<br /><br /></span></font></div>Are there words to convey the feeling of being completely understood? I often fail to find them to fully express myself. But you know when you are talking with someone and what they are saying resonates deep inside you? Even when words escape you, you still feel connected and understood? I recently had a time like this with my good friend Hunter. <br /><br />Hunter and I were in Uganda together and throughout our service I found him to be a very understanding friend. We left around the same time and I have found he continues to put words to my feelings and he experiences some of the same struggles that I do. Hunter came to Minnesota the other day and we spent time catching up and processing life over plantain pancakes and tea, how appropriate.<br /><br />It is comforting to find another person who feels the duality of life. We are happy, but sad; content but uncomfortable; driven yet directionless. I am really thankful for the time we had together. As Hunter says, "It really was great to see you. I don't think the saying, "misery loves company" is appropriate here, but it was reassuring to know that those times that I think it's really difficult, at least there's some other crazy person who may be agreeing with me!"<br /><br />Yes, Hunter, I too am crazy. But we'll just both keep living and take comfort in knowing we are understood in that department.ajrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221103219153345134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131350622835420407.post-50534007822455007432011-10-07T00:31:00.001+03:002011-10-07T16:07:27.323+03:00Left BehindI didn't come to love traveling and visiting people completely on my own right. I was influenced by my family. Growing up, we took family vacations and the talk of world history, events and politics was always present at our dinner table. It really isn't surprising that they too like to travel around the world. <br /><br />What I find surprising is that I am on the other end this time. Usually, I am asking my family to take me to the airport or pick me up. This week, I was the one dropping off and will pick them up. My mom is off to South Carolina with her friends. My sister and brother-in-law went to Boston for a wedding and to visit our sister. And my sister in California went to Las Vegas with her friends. <br /><br />Where am I you ask? This time I'm the one left behind to cook and clean and man the home front. Yes, I am a little jealous. My farmer father also may be less than happy to be left behind. But I think the meat and potatoes guy is most disgruntled with being left behind with a vegetarian daughter.ajrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221103219153345134noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131350622835420407.post-39189501833344887732011-09-29T16:02:00.006+03:002011-09-29T17:37:55.652+03:00I Love the North East!The North East holds another really important person for me: my sister Ang. She is in her last semester of college and when she wasn't writing for the Boston Globe, planning graduation, working or going to class, she made a bit of time for her best older sister. I introduced her to some of my favorite old hang-outs. We drove around taking in the charm of New England. I listened to all her problems and gave sound advice (at least I think so). She graciously rubbed my back as we snuggled in bed - well, there may have been a few complaints but she did it! We also walked a few beaches in there too.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Notice Ang still has that bright-eyed look of the young and innocent to her.<br />I, on the other hand, am brow furrowed from the harshness of life.<br />Or, maybe it was just our individual responses to the sun in our eyes:</span>)</span><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimj_AzeOjOdlfNRRG-IciGeoGqhR6ZZL8WTL5FzIG2rVrv7bY0MotV4JGiq0cH4G0M5wTxxd7My_3yfbt9baNCSwVroMCIGKQdOKo9x23r5zrDA4XjSl34PjBN-ilY7Cp1Yv9okwTap6I/s1600/angandme.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimj_AzeOjOdlfNRRG-IciGeoGqhR6ZZL8WTL5FzIG2rVrv7bY0MotV4JGiq0cH4G0M5wTxxd7My_3yfbt9baNCSwVroMCIGKQdOKo9x23r5zrDA4XjSl34PjBN-ilY7Cp1Yv9okwTap6I/s320/angandme.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657766781189576754" border="0" /></a><br />It was fun seeing a part of her life. Ang asked if it was weird seeing her in Boston. We never lived there at the same time. Other friends asked if it was strange seeing them 3 years later now with husbands, children, houses, driving BMW's and Saub's. It was different, yes, but it seemed normal too. It's a natural progression. They're living life, I'm living life. Those exterior changes are interesting to see but it's the interior ones I want to grow with them through and hope they grow with me.<br /><br />While the biggest part of what I love about the North East is the people, I also absolutely love the ocean and the beach. It is probably my favorite place in the world. Any large body of water does it for me but there is just something extra special about the ocean. It brings me peace and calm. I find rest there. I tried to get in as much beach time as I could on this visit. I even made it to the water in Massachusetts, New Hampshire <span style="font-style: italic;">and </span>Maine! And I was honored to be along for Bridget's son Parker's first trip to the beach. He loved it, of course!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBUUJ-wCbgJOOcJpfUm7k_lD8uWIKE-T_mw3B78h26GddOw9QbnFDueLr3L5_wLLM2P-E-VOIs4ciRJj7XU_mppc0hnwhEdufXcOkEqGZ7xTcA2QZJBVCbnT3l3bs0YTOL0zL8aeOIc1Q/s1600/beachpath.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBUUJ-wCbgJOOcJpfUm7k_lD8uWIKE-T_mw3B78h26GddOw9QbnFDueLr3L5_wLLM2P-E-VOIs4ciRJj7XU_mppc0hnwhEdufXcOkEqGZ7xTcA2QZJBVCbnT3l3bs0YTOL0zL8aeOIc1Q/s320/beachpath.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657766626177221842" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPU9l-MicY1DuzXuHTBuR6rbqzlirn8Jlds5xiYJTReYrAgxadnsN1JBsI84h_7qO1hMDAW5cbxRx5JaIKDOnRjdSRu4endu1u9rK9kcNCgMR6RzR5l1miMXm1xvt86tL5q1z0rE60Sbg/s1600/meandparker.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPU9l-MicY1DuzXuHTBuR6rbqzlirn8Jlds5xiYJTReYrAgxadnsN1JBsI84h_7qO1hMDAW5cbxRx5JaIKDOnRjdSRu4endu1u9rK9kcNCgMR6RzR5l1miMXm1xvt86tL5q1z0rE60Sbg/s320/meandparker.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657766646351789042" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9v9t5ckBGfMmo3pxFWVon9cbjZSHLeHj0B5qHAE4-xebylBea9aRpB0_CEtqjIM_82AOCZe5efAESbyolGAuet17HbOA8qsV8K3Qmpe6it0wyrRKJWLuB3SO7PWDIp9a86yB2QS8-t24/s1600/mainebeach.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9v9t5ckBGfMmo3pxFWVon9cbjZSHLeHj0B5qHAE4-xebylBea9aRpB0_CEtqjIM_82AOCZe5efAESbyolGAuet17HbOA8qsV8K3Qmpe6it0wyrRKJWLuB3SO7PWDIp9a86yB2QS8-t24/s320/mainebeach.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657766642343277522" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6dl6FjBcws47_gcZN0-ThUozqCHpqcbeWNlZxXefhM_0huic-htoo4eR_py7uUE3w3iQnECys9wwEdHBb0PjG2oGVLp_WYIYtyJYdQNNBOZ_hA0qD8QIuIrgD8MYzEpFu5gsi9RVDVaE/s1600/reverebeach.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6dl6FjBcws47_gcZN0-ThUozqCHpqcbeWNlZxXefhM_0huic-htoo4eR_py7uUE3w3iQnECys9wwEdHBb0PjG2oGVLp_WYIYtyJYdQNNBOZ_hA0qD8QIuIrgD8MYzEpFu5gsi9RVDVaE/s320/reverebeach.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657766629885017442" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKiy0CUDx3IU7MBvm2B4O1_sYjv6Lw61_Yz0-aSK9qhWPCq52z5R1t86jq9PGJq38V68UhNriRS_tFlyIpEsPcRkeaVK94r8EXsfGBHxatcVFI32bQYGtz_Mp3Uk4dlj-zdSddO_X5hGw/s1600/cranebeach.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKiy0CUDx3IU7MBvm2B4O1_sYjv6Lw61_Yz0-aSK9qhWPCq52z5R1t86jq9PGJq38V68UhNriRS_tFlyIpEsPcRkeaVK94r8EXsfGBHxatcVFI32bQYGtz_Mp3Uk4dlj-zdSddO_X5hGw/s320/cranebeach.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657766653679824402" border="0" /></a>Fall in New England is a time for apple picking, going on drives to see the vibrant changing of leaves, apple cider donuts, hay rides, pumpkin ice-cream and last minute trips to the beach when it is a surprisingly warm day. When I was in college and even after, my friends and I would drive up to Ipswich to walk through a corn maze and buy fresh fall produce. Outside of the corn maze there is a measuring stick to mark your growth over the year. Since I started going there I haven't grown. Every year it says the same thing and every year I am a little disappointed. At least I'm not shrinking...yet...<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">2006</span><br /></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFOhg1TRzJ5P-3BXUo6bspmSRQrcj7JRS-CzKTOALr5c3ANo-ogiqN37-2jIYi7J0_qxdJDdHLvNKb_4D8rc8-C3dbaFAX1yUVL3mGL-GGZxb8kpSrsoi29Ow2EZYPCIXGbDnJM8OUYRw/s1600/always5ft.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFOhg1TRzJ5P-3BXUo6bspmSRQrcj7JRS-CzKTOALr5c3ANo-ogiqN37-2jIYi7J0_qxdJDdHLvNKb_4D8rc8-C3dbaFAX1yUVL3mGL-GGZxb8kpSrsoi29Ow2EZYPCIXGbDnJM8OUYRw/s320/always5ft.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657767107728503826" border="0" /></a>Five Years Later...<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">2011</span><br /></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3RyEE2CBfMe_qhn1lNJdsKt5uB0p4CEDVZRt-nVZUWQxJxiHQCkQWftccQ1Ytnl0BAMULKT-ifhoKkRU-Del1ISaWRsNgYMx842RVUFx92B2944DXJhjWQBMuygtroLsbETAJYh8NIZM/s1600/always5ftforever.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3RyEE2CBfMe_qhn1lNJdsKt5uB0p4CEDVZRt-nVZUWQxJxiHQCkQWftccQ1Ytnl0BAMULKT-ifhoKkRU-Del1ISaWRsNgYMx842RVUFx92B2944DXJhjWQBMuygtroLsbETAJYh8NIZM/s320/always5ftforever.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657766996862642754" border="0" /></a>And so I left the East Coast, the same size I have been for years, with baby spit up on every outfit I brought, sand sticking to my toe nails and so much love in my heart for the beauty of the area, the memories I have and most of all for the deep friendships that pass the tests. Goodbye New England. Until next time...ajrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221103219153345134noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131350622835420407.post-45089428409069758502011-09-27T02:06:00.010+03:002011-09-30T16:07:52.648+03:00East Coast FriendshipsOver the last 6 months I have learned more about friendships than I thought I needed to know. When you reach your late 20's you think you have a good understanding of friendship. The drama of middle school friendships are over. The drifting apart of high school friends is passed. The staying up all night learning minute details of each other in college are through. Yet, as life continues and the true friendships stay, you learn what it really means to remain friends.<br /><br />All through my time in Africa I had great friends calling me once a month, writing e-mails, and sending letters and packages. I felt supported and loved. I needed those notes of encouragement and reminders that I was still loved back home so that I could keep living my life in Uganda confidently. While that may have been a testing time for some friendships - who is going to stick with you when you live 8000 miles away - I didn't feel the test until these last 6 months when I was living in the U.S. again. Who is going to accept that you are different now? Who is going to ask the probing questions that make you be honest with yourself and with your friends? Who is going to call you over and over even when you don't have the strength to return their calls? Who is going to get on the next train when you are having the saddest day of your life and come hug you? Who dares to keep living with you when you barely know what living is in that moment? I am usually strong and friendship doesn't seem too hard. But I recently went through a time when I wasn't the strong one. I needed my friends to be strong for me. I needed them to ask me how I was really feeling. Friendship was hard.<br /><br />I am very thankful for the friends I have. These last few days in the North East have revealed more friends who have stuck it out with me -who want to know who I am and who accept the differences and the things that have stayed constant. Thank you for your understanding and your love! May we continue to weather life together.<br /><br />**********************<br /><br />Molly, you make me see life more abstract. You help me live in the gray and be happy there. You ask me hard questions and let me ask you hard questions. I value your advice and am honored when you ask for mine. Thank you for taking me into your home and letting me live a bit of life with you and your family. Your daughter makes my heart melt. I am so proud of the mom you are and the wife you try to be. Thank you for sticking with me. I am so thankful for your friendship.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">I can't believe I didn't get any pictures with you Molls but here is a piece of you I absolutely love!<br />Rose<br /></span></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixBF2bOd3vZsaw17ZWRukhoIUGmNVjrdszlcw0LS73x2mc6XcsoJ1MyMeX0V658K8nI5qCgZoHrFMilkJH2Fr0SQNhhzS7bHG7CWjKwv7HJh14l-dsvhocjKVKaE1jhnjXeSE1sK8tpl4/s1600/rose.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixBF2bOd3vZsaw17ZWRukhoIUGmNVjrdszlcw0LS73x2mc6XcsoJ1MyMeX0V658K8nI5qCgZoHrFMilkJH2Fr0SQNhhzS7bHG7CWjKwv7HJh14l-dsvhocjKVKaE1jhnjXeSE1sK8tpl4/s320/rose.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657406518361685218" border="0" /></a><br />Celeste, you are a new friend but one I have been through so much with already. You understand a part of me that most cannot because they haven't lived it with me like you have. You also understand this crazy time of adjustment and I am thankful for your words letting me know I'm not alone in these feelings. You make me smile and remind me to be young at heart. Who else makes getting face paint and airbrush tattoos so much fun? Your joy for life is infectious. Thank you for being there for me. Kwagala nnyo Mukwano gwange!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh80HKFUHWupT6HPTlrje4szOI7j74BcgiT85B0QAva0ZNbk6AyhIdetFTMvMiE0YmPU-dKtOiSvwQ42gY2XxD0WEIfMn_dZ6BrMqYpGVZuoROzrHCmOygQkGLCUb0DBMfHHtQIHapwYWc/s1600/funny.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh80HKFUHWupT6HPTlrje4szOI7j74BcgiT85B0QAva0ZNbk6AyhIdetFTMvMiE0YmPU-dKtOiSvwQ42gY2XxD0WEIfMn_dZ6BrMqYpGVZuoROzrHCmOygQkGLCUb0DBMfHHtQIHapwYWc/s320/funny.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657405910204062306" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Celeste, me and Thomas - RPCV's from Uganda at the Jazz Festival in Boston 6 months after leaving Uganda</span></span><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoFVitWxVnOz7k-l5qAxqK6jgnU4tqj4pO6OI0nSG14ehYRXJxrviJ6Lt8KvXxO33VW206pJqb1M0G5aI253yRajsCAhAUKHwfn8g6G-RkLgpZnOunuO-64VoRULRj_WhtdRkCTcXmNYA/s1600/funnywiththomas.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoFVitWxVnOz7k-l5qAxqK6jgnU4tqj4pO6OI0nSG14ehYRXJxrviJ6Lt8KvXxO33VW206pJqb1M0G5aI253yRajsCAhAUKHwfn8g6G-RkLgpZnOunuO-64VoRULRj_WhtdRkCTcXmNYA/s320/funnywiththomas.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657405902168847730" border="0" /></a><br />Diana and Paul, you remind me of all the experiences we have been through together. Your recount of life leaves me breathless from laughter. You both ask questions that challenge me to be thoughtful and not flippant with my response. Your sense of time gives me hope that parts of Africa can live in America. Thank you for your firm gentleness and your genuine interest in who I am and who I will and can be. Your friendship is so special.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Me, Diana and Paul at the beach in Maine - ahhhhh</span></span><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXmBOZFphFHdG9Br3AZMVQblV2UN8nYs6MlsPGz8EtdSoWriuObJkoX7nQn6d2OT4LgqLUy6wMURd4nSutwj-cAItzOMS0MwgNZGUSWZMD-eNN24asLvficn2OIyNDS5oFssAgLKBhdw4/s1600/mainefriends.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXmBOZFphFHdG9Br3AZMVQblV2UN8nYs6MlsPGz8EtdSoWriuObJkoX7nQn6d2OT4LgqLUy6wMURd4nSutwj-cAItzOMS0MwgNZGUSWZMD-eNN24asLvficn2OIyNDS5oFssAgLKBhdw4/s320/mainefriends.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657406170306258034" border="0" /></a><br />Bridget, where do I even begin? You are so insightful. You know how to put yourself in someone else's shoes and feel for them. Thank you for you phone calls, emails, letters and packages over the years, especially over the last few months. I can't thank you enough for trying to understand me and changing with me. You don't let me get away with much. Your fight and exuberance for life make me want to live fully. You make me laugh so hard I almost pee my pants at times. Thank you for all you are to me and more.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">I decided this wasn't too scandalous of a picture to post<br />since you have already put yourself breastfeeding on your <a href="http://itsahuntlife.blogspot.com/2011/09/lovely-amanda-came-to-stay.html">blog</a></span></span><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">I love you! And Parker too.</span></span><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ZEf5wtCw3MGF3fuu1aeXr1_utbaBPcoMtUHo60PpsfRnHLNCCsqN0yAt2hUf5XsbMGV70sQpdma85tmpSX-bZD8APyROXRU1Jj40dsG-ISeqPSD6K_9OadUbNwLOCoErTF8ZCNzdYpw/s1600/bridget+and+me.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ZEf5wtCw3MGF3fuu1aeXr1_utbaBPcoMtUHo60PpsfRnHLNCCsqN0yAt2hUf5XsbMGV70sQpdma85tmpSX-bZD8APyROXRU1Jj40dsG-ISeqPSD6K_9OadUbNwLOCoErTF8ZCNzdYpw/s320/bridget+and+me.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657462555152407602" border="0" /></a> This trip East has reminded me further of how blessed I am to know and be known by some pretty incredible people. Thank you dear friends for living life with me.ajrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221103219153345134noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131350622835420407.post-8881404197497754152011-09-23T17:27:00.006+03:002011-10-02T02:22:11.469+03:00Boston, I'm back!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic12QytRxJzGkrDllmoUNEF0ZW_4c5ghhWw75QyywnelkRoCmyN1OQIT_-lVZEbiVMCSRy-L6Lv2puvfFGLNfml3hWyzO7cZtklrofAdRJ53CTg9BixI9uGKzRNmnmxivElkLafsm3gWs/s1600/boston.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic12QytRxJzGkrDllmoUNEF0ZW_4c5ghhWw75QyywnelkRoCmyN1OQIT_-lVZEbiVMCSRy-L6Lv2puvfFGLNfml3hWyzO7cZtklrofAdRJ53CTg9BixI9uGKzRNmnmxivElkLafsm3gWs/s320/boston.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657400094583161090" border="0" /></a>I used to live on the East Coast. A large part of my development happened there. I went to college and entered the working world when living in/around Boston. I love Boston! Yet, when I came back from Uganda, Boston was the last place I wanted to go. There were too many memories there. And too many people I would need to see. The pace of life seemed so fast I didn't think I could handle it. So I put it off. I talked on the phone to my friends there and made half enthused promises to visit soon.<br /><br />As time has passed I have become more emotionally stable. I am more confident in my ability to live in the States again. And a burning desire to see Boston and visit my old life pushed through. I called my friend Bridget and asked if she'd be around and after getting the affirmative, I bought my ticket before I could change my mind.<br /><br />As my plane descended over Boston and I looked out at the familiar sites I couldn't keep the smile from my face. I was back! I was coming home.<br /><br />It is always a struggle of wanting to spend quality time with people and wanting to cram as many activities in as you can when you visit. And really, who can resist the carrot cake pancakes with maple cream cheese butter from my favorite breakfast place on the North Shore?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6FKb9_V0IbT7-Je7XJPe9O_D7iNt7tW0iErVng4-NRD2haVU8uDPdy5HNCY6Bi-PCYi-cPdRNMl1H-XwRfC1rAGHXTLCMtRJvhd6XT7oPHbm1uoMQrDVn38V3OoiLlpKA3I7jgPiKC8s/s1600/sugar.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6FKb9_V0IbT7-Je7XJPe9O_D7iNt7tW0iErVng4-NRD2haVU8uDPdy5HNCY6Bi-PCYi-cPdRNMl1H-XwRfC1rAGHXTLCMtRJvhd6XT7oPHbm1uoMQrDVn38V3OoiLlpKA3I7jgPiKC8s/s320/sugar.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657401523136200498" border="0" /></a>And creamy pumpkin ice-cream from Richardson's? It's only a fall flavor after all!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQvenQcCTXKd3N1MP03QRZ6sXRp2P8Yj-SpxuPo3Wid53H0JlajJ7eS7EBR40yzkgGMjxXJd88qx-f2THn4yR_wL6GbPgXdknqhQLehlSOdD9stvuDESObN-31EnNnZAKj0s-ReZuLdQ0/s1600/icecream.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQvenQcCTXKd3N1MP03QRZ6sXRp2P8Yj-SpxuPo3Wid53H0JlajJ7eS7EBR40yzkgGMjxXJd88qx-f2THn4yR_wL6GbPgXdknqhQLehlSOdD9stvuDESObN-31EnNnZAKj0s-ReZuLdQ0/s320/icecream.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657401795363854642" border="0" /></a>The memories are good here. And the friends are fantastic. My time in Boston will fly so quickly. But I am very happy to be here. So watch out Boston, I'm back!ajrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221103219153345134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131350622835420407.post-52958133219351095492011-09-19T03:46:00.002+03:002011-09-19T22:39:52.676+03:00A MN Cultural NightMy friend Paul is into Minnesota cultural events. In August, my friend Lauren was visiting me from Philadelphia and Paul told us about the annual A Prairie Home Companion Street Dance that would happen in September. This event is to kick off the opening of a new season of A Prairie Home Companion by Garrison Keillor. They broadcast the show on the street in front of the theater and after the show the night is full of live music, contests, meatball and mash potato dinner and dancing. <br /><br />Paul goes to this event every year so I planned to also attend. When I was in South America I told the girls I was traveling with about it and JaNahn admitted to her huge crush on Garrison Keillor and became adamant about attended as well. She even heard about the Loon call competition and practiced all along the Amazon River. Lauren happened to be in town for work this week and extended her ticket to spend the weekend with me. So it was Lauren, JaNahn, Paul and I who hit up a true Minnesota cultural event.<br /><br />It was really fun to see so many proud Minnesotans and visitors hanging out on Exchange Street in St. Paul all excited about Minnesota accents and Loon calls. It was also fun to see Lauren, who grew up in South Jersey and now lives in Philadelphia, experience something so Minnesotan. <br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">JaNahn beaming from being in the presence of Garrison Keillor</span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRexkXEXbtGIM4jtDPxUp_VjMnLsxeQ5iDk2502fPsAPy3pYfkTA40F9oTNOMWveRca1qd8XenjC1AnMk9dt8xqHmAYwnDS_TcnC_AaVO1HeIlJRrxR5vrRmBT3N9hhD17aE-NU4MQ8dI/s1600/garrison+and+janahn.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 235px; height: 314px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRexkXEXbtGIM4jtDPxUp_VjMnLsxeQ5iDk2502fPsAPy3pYfkTA40F9oTNOMWveRca1qd8XenjC1AnMk9dt8xqHmAYwnDS_TcnC_AaVO1HeIlJRrxR5vrRmBT3N9hhD17aE-NU4MQ8dI/s320/garrison+and+janahn.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654152386835571970" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:78%;">Garrison Keillor moderating the Loon call competition</span><br /></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitLnjmmsac-GYRTwiqVHtSu56DA6kmeckeJMId6Q_ydQKWoDVv_GKxSPzJ8sum25X0eL2GzYpXQIOdRju6u2jlKfuuFNSXSVTm8BLDPz4CH4lgsVXqgru0Qu0_ENeTtBvDaDeIDBrtoa8/s1600/loon+call.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitLnjmmsac-GYRTwiqVHtSu56DA6kmeckeJMId6Q_ydQKWoDVv_GKxSPzJ8sum25X0eL2GzYpXQIOdRju6u2jlKfuuFNSXSVTm8BLDPz4CH4lgsVXqgru0Qu0_ENeTtBvDaDeIDBrtoa8/s320/loon+call.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654152392598502402" border="0" /></a><br />Afterwards, Paul took us around to a few other St. Paul, Minnesota hot spots. Here are Lauren and I at Mickey's Diner.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYq-fF_Gm4oJEdYlx88Ft5JjwWMvrqbEL-rGAA31uxBw-gnMcNpNj0NtfpQ0042sL_3NiEAWXgqIHII_7WYq07fK6Mh45JyBlXlZDv8Zh4Y3qGcgvbB4ATpTdke4WYBw1K_nI8YCgeOH8/s1600/micky%2527s+diner.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYq-fF_Gm4oJEdYlx88Ft5JjwWMvrqbEL-rGAA31uxBw-gnMcNpNj0NtfpQ0042sL_3NiEAWXgqIHII_7WYq07fK6Mh45JyBlXlZDv8Zh4Y3qGcgvbB4ATpTdke4WYBw1K_nI8YCgeOH8/s320/micky%2527s+diner.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654152261532372914" border="0" /></a><br />I find it strange yet normal to have different lives converge. Paul is a friend from growing up and represents so much of Minnesota to me. Lauren is a college roommate and my life out East. Yet, we all meld together somehow despite our different cultures. It really is beautiful.ajrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221103219153345134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131350622835420407.post-45290073119123939852011-09-15T17:44:00.005+03:002011-09-19T22:11:22.295+03:00My Endless Winter<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDqAtL_S_Twwdt_4ktiiFo0-zcOMb58jaVfX0qJOMfcgWdcajhSGzpI5dZz8CvRbulJbrnZDpeAR2WoyBiTTJaOVmb4Aok5EwGDR72nNAcQmYb1ATCA02qt1yFWAJ_8CAnqWDFsQ4Zb4M/s1600/plants.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDqAtL_S_Twwdt_4ktiiFo0-zcOMb58jaVfX0qJOMfcgWdcajhSGzpI5dZz8CvRbulJbrnZDpeAR2WoyBiTTJaOVmb4Aok5EwGDR72nNAcQmYb1ATCA02qt1yFWAJ_8CAnqWDFsQ4Zb4M/s320/plants.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652599414507723554" border="0" /></a><br />Why are there tomato plants and flowers inside our house? Because last night we had the first frost of fall. It is the 15th of September! Much too early if you ask me. I feel that I have been jipped of summer this year. I spent my summer in San Francisco entrenched in fog. I spent a month in the winter of South America. And now, I am in Minnesota and it is jumping into fall and winter. I don't like cold weather. Take me back Amazon!ajrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221103219153345134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131350622835420407.post-23128640375173350252011-09-10T16:19:00.005+03:002011-09-20T02:47:23.506+03:00Being a GypsyI sat next to a business man on my flight home. After telling me about his company and all that he does the inevitable question came, "What do you do?" To which I put on my innocent surprised to be asked this question face and say in all seriousness, "I'm a gypsy," and smiled slightly. "Seriously?" he asked. "Oh, yes. I travel the world as the wind blows. I work a little here and there. Enough to fund the next adventure." <br /><br />Of course, my mother is horrified every time she hears me say this. While she has supported and appreciated my life endeavors thus far, she also wants me to come across as responsible and not completely flighty. <br /><br />As a self-professed gypsy, I know this season of travel and exploration is coming to an end. I have one more trip planned and then I will become "responsible" and look for a job. I'm about ready to settle into life in the States again: have a steady job, get an apartment, make friends with my neighbors and so forth. This time of mourning, or readjustment as some call it, has been an adventure of self discovery in and of itself. I have been coming to terms with ending a life I absolutely loved and starting a new one that I can and will come to love too. After spending the last month in South America, I feel much more settled and confident in my ability to live. <br /><br />So, the end of my gypsy era is approaching. It isn't over yet. I still have another trip to make but it is coming to an end. In my heart, part of me will always be a gypsy. But the physical part will let it go for a time.ajrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221103219153345134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131350622835420407.post-37188396981768392552011-09-08T20:27:00.005+03:002011-09-19T22:08:11.350+03:00South American Part VII: BogotaPictures for now. Words to come soon...<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Bogota, Colombia</span></span><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpttFrvKq887kcoW6APBQm8N1oyWWQqidRKOx6AF5OzoQ3h3GQRx8ONFbRSy6g3-tvRjFyB7AKyftf_gk_3Kpzlqe8ndKr3hifSFVkG8KW951FKO3BOzK-oSstGiH3zvx_QSbMmBHUEWY/s1600/Bogota.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpttFrvKq887kcoW6APBQm8N1oyWWQqidRKOx6AF5OzoQ3h3GQRx8ONFbRSy6g3-tvRjFyB7AKyftf_gk_3Kpzlqe8ndKr3hifSFVkG8KW951FKO3BOzK-oSstGiH3zvx_QSbMmBHUEWY/s320/Bogota.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652610101479778242" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRiFDBkksj8TnTM59gsvJSUU8b9wcmsf58NsEB2-JokwF-P-0xyc3UJ0aOaTBfgW2reu5zr0UQsXlatl_yRiBe3WLt_Kj5XVDnaKu5xT7CUhTtkdwgD-zkPWIGuY3Eo8uVW4u84GIRkfg/s1600/Bogota+street.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRiFDBkksj8TnTM59gsvJSUU8b9wcmsf58NsEB2-JokwF-P-0xyc3UJ0aOaTBfgW2reu5zr0UQsXlatl_yRiBe3WLt_Kj5XVDnaKu5xT7CUhTtkdwgD-zkPWIGuY3Eo8uVW4u84GIRkfg/s320/Bogota+street.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652610211416311794" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Melissa with our new friend David</span></span><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiajYiq35oIlvYDl7DAFAli2GWIW08cdPhaoD8OVYdEZyvsxAvU5FdZLH_bcpI7P54wLpHtXXVUTgd9RmRlItKdUkNIw-LlqbZ8oK9ulf_mAp7nQtotgOoXcdNYl5YRoUSfqizjldccSTo/s1600/Melissa+and+David.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiajYiq35oIlvYDl7DAFAli2GWIW08cdPhaoD8OVYdEZyvsxAvU5FdZLH_bcpI7P54wLpHtXXVUTgd9RmRlItKdUkNIw-LlqbZ8oK9ulf_mAp7nQtotgOoXcdNYl5YRoUSfqizjldccSTo/s320/Melissa+and+David.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652610291480045394" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">JaNahn and I drinking coffee from cups that say, "Perfect Love" in Spanish</span></span><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMTNeqYoK5TNHHfW0qvlnN1qaO_g9p_jGo8bKRI4E52mNJ4_jmt7aYiP-aTwfwzL4F_TKowRoy4qTv0SOYyrqoHs1Leu8ClSSpyE9TjQHxpBs3Rl_btHoqgEnKrw-72OMWTSrLLwm7vf0/s1600/Perfect+love.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMTNeqYoK5TNHHfW0qvlnN1qaO_g9p_jGo8bKRI4E52mNJ4_jmt7aYiP-aTwfwzL4F_TKowRoy4qTv0SOYyrqoHs1Leu8ClSSpyE9TjQHxpBs3Rl_btHoqgEnKrw-72OMWTSrLLwm7vf0/s320/Perfect+love.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652610369432379922" border="0" /></a>ajrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221103219153345134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131350622835420407.post-3070898998774243772011-09-03T17:38:00.018+03:002011-09-19T22:03:31.760+03:00South America Part VI: The Tri Boarder<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqG26iwxv7SjYRCFkFnPXDJy86Z0I0v97xQjBrYve_KgKJOvxOBo7na9HnhZbvSyPFbTahyLMjq5FnS1czzldeypU60un8cTJPLNVcrVGlaAPA9vv1DxuWwfC_QXhZVbLsi3elcSElwcI/s1600/Tri+Boarder.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqG26iwxv7SjYRCFkFnPXDJy86Z0I0v97xQjBrYve_KgKJOvxOBo7na9HnhZbvSyPFbTahyLMjq5FnS1czzldeypU60un8cTJPLNVcrVGlaAPA9vv1DxuWwfC_QXhZVbLsi3elcSElwcI/s320/Tri+Boarder.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652613309851504930" border="0" /></a>We got off the boat at the junction of Peru, Brazil and Colombia. As this is the Amazon, and a developing world, getting an exit stamp was quite the trial. We had to walk with the sun and high humidity during the heat of the day to a little village in Santa Rosa. After finding the police, who you had to check out with first, and then a man with a stamp, we had to hike back to the river and take a boat across to Colombia. Then we had to go to the airport to get an entry stamp. However, all traffic into the airport was closed when we got there because a flight was coming in. Does this make sense? We eventually got the necessary stamps and even bought our airline tickets to Bogota for only $100!<br /><br />JaNahn, Kate and I popped over to Brazil for the night to see a festival that was going on. There were a lot of dancing women wearing g-strings and feather head dresses. All aged Brazilians were performing traditional dances and loud drums and other instruments were playing. It was fun to be in the crowd. We were given flags to wave and people seemed happy to have us sitting amongst them.<br /><br />Melissa was sick during our time in the Colombian Amazon so while she slept JaNahn, Kate and I went for on a jungle walk, explored Leticia and its many street food stalls and walked through the markets selling cheap products. The tri-boarder was a fascinating place. While the jungle is the jungle on any side, the towns were vastly different from each other. Santa Rosa in Peru was unpaved, small and simple. Tabatinga, Brazil was colorful with more scantily clad people. Leticia, Colombia was extremely friendly and developed with clothes stores, grocery stores, gas stations and paved roads with nice houses. Life seemed a bit easier on the Colombia as opposed to the Peru side.<br /><br />The Amazon continued to be a magical place for me and one I hope to visit again someday.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">No cars - only motorcycles/scooters - Leticia, Colombia</span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBg_HU8FJ_tUYZq9ZtanoZzxKzcIe-B1gUohU-a2rDp3eO4IlTA9e-sdKN2F_YMcVc-_EnHDSCaUv2XUmQzGPqojL0f9_IPi28-QDh8wRdDgzWO76tfXChWEvunJSssQMgLCZrXBI9Vuk/s1600/Leticia+traffic.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBg_HU8FJ_tUYZq9ZtanoZzxKzcIe-B1gUohU-a2rDp3eO4IlTA9e-sdKN2F_YMcVc-_EnHDSCaUv2XUmQzGPqojL0f9_IPi28-QDh8wRdDgzWO76tfXChWEvunJSssQMgLCZrXBI9Vuk/s320/Leticia+traffic.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652613551702463298" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Little shops/markets selling most anything<br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz-WAnSE6RL9UAkp1yoXoyi-jrJJC4xAu1t1gRRybzQxJADUOQOC-8xK-eD6RF0x0J4dHvkj5o0NwYGd70yAn-8HMLAbP2ZDP8_h_wRkBGbQXR_KLaSEJ89eWqZLY089_1JwGdLJxs1nE/s1600/market.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz-WAnSE6RL9UAkp1yoXoyi-jrJJC4xAu1t1gRRybzQxJADUOQOC-8xK-eD6RF0x0J4dHvkj5o0NwYGd70yAn-8HMLAbP2ZDP8_h_wRkBGbQXR_KLaSEJ89eWqZLY089_1JwGdLJxs1nE/s320/market.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652613559245849890" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">What else is there to do when it's so hot you can barely breathe? Eat ice-cream with JaNahn, of course!</span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxsNzP1GeM6Xwy-y6fVqzJ-aROjofvFd6KOaEMxnD8IIjVEMd38ECcP9bRmzq0ecnWpIkg96oVar16GWimITShYdmEp37IHgmpYQ-G3PSEBQMY4xDnMkC05J9kGzknue29nCA161RRze0/s1600/ice+cream+break.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxsNzP1GeM6Xwy-y6fVqzJ-aROjofvFd6KOaEMxnD8IIjVEMd38ECcP9bRmzq0ecnWpIkg96oVar16GWimITShYdmEp37IHgmpYQ-G3PSEBQMY4xDnMkC05J9kGzknue29nCA161RRze0/s320/ice+cream+break.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652613811809416050" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Delicious street food vendor!</span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAU7Licw19bs5AP8wAzxXSG-AP2v9_QF8wdB20g6YGI_IaBf7xenikRfv_5lizjROj3S3bwn_682NJspoOR5G7RQ7RiEeVkn4OLiD9R1xTDUUUGUbsLfuuFHem-tKSmQ7F28eo33FxB50/s1600/street+vendor.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAU7Licw19bs5AP8wAzxXSG-AP2v9_QF8wdB20g6YGI_IaBf7xenikRfv_5lizjROj3S3bwn_682NJspoOR5G7RQ7RiEeVkn4OLiD9R1xTDUUUGUbsLfuuFHem-tKSmQ7F28eo33FxB50/s320/street+vendor.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652613817886192562" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Alligator we saw on our walk that's retinas has been eaten by ants so it couldn't see</span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfupKUU7Gx89jLn91J8esrcYeDAXsPl1oJ0SM98Waj9mSv-zisv0NxZIhtyCyeMfBW-RWh5An8rrl64ylhXIFpSFI3CZIEy3u8N88I6_u9CB8K3MKSq5gjfJ32ZK9VvAR2JC9QmdlGKOU/s1600/Aligator.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfupKUU7Gx89jLn91J8esrcYeDAXsPl1oJ0SM98Waj9mSv-zisv0NxZIhtyCyeMfBW-RWh5An8rrl64ylhXIFpSFI3CZIEy3u8N88I6_u9CB8K3MKSq5gjfJ32ZK9VvAR2JC9QmdlGKOU/s320/Aligator.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652614123883337458" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Trailed path in the Amazon jungle</span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzgD4wQsFYHnOkTy8nDIO-i2tJL9mkIUiKzsVaqh7dip1WMH38EtCmC-642Kn_s6IQ2Hyv3PcmJB-LtbYnV2w8SyFWCTOzpUp-ey36TZC7kPvow8GReSmDGCyQleUcQLrVgOrM9hMZvVY/s1600/Amazon+Jungle.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzgD4wQsFYHnOkTy8nDIO-i2tJL9mkIUiKzsVaqh7dip1WMH38EtCmC-642Kn_s6IQ2Hyv3PcmJB-LtbYnV2w8SyFWCTOzpUp-ey36TZC7kPvow8GReSmDGCyQleUcQLrVgOrM9hMZvVY/s320/Amazon+Jungle.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652614114895766690" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">A real live anaconda!</span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-YQshVP-c_36vixud0pMYof8g584Aah8PENPoPzARLp0Ru1Z4tB-l4Q2esvjcrj5cW-XvW4eyZDyyNILDNe0F89z4jaUk1gQsIXy5tCYmh-YRtlz31cuFsCa-8jC1KZMwginlD-XsaOI/s1600/Anaconda.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-YQshVP-c_36vixud0pMYof8g584Aah8PENPoPzARLp0Ru1Z4tB-l4Q2esvjcrj5cW-XvW4eyZDyyNILDNe0F89z4jaUk1gQsIXy5tCYmh-YRtlz31cuFsCa-8jC1KZMwginlD-XsaOI/s320/Anaconda.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652614125853519618" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">The Amazon River was in low season</span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCBLwmSgw6MxESi1NHgYeqjmTXOVVawNCKdD5hZkeCWGJz5KwDtgoz3Axvb-QDHbTo4Kxuaz_l4NWg5pSr6gyPmW1IZk7g4n3G-QgscMJo68x09jCunBTLlT42SMlqrSWt5vxgk4LWXss/s1600/Amazon+low.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCBLwmSgw6MxESi1NHgYeqjmTXOVVawNCKdD5hZkeCWGJz5KwDtgoz3Axvb-QDHbTo4Kxuaz_l4NWg5pSr6gyPmW1IZk7g4n3G-QgscMJo68x09jCunBTLlT42SMlqrSWt5vxgk4LWXss/s320/Amazon+low.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652614370215272722" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Bridges connecting countries</span><br /></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioyIn8NG5YDCrAOZeROMcagjyjpx41c0xrxAdWOyLQCDKrEkdvKyatdZ3tVU9J00a77v1zclPGhp64ZyljS9EE8xCgoyMXd7fusRaLGIEtgtQYkj5uICRr-JLlGBL99jjGs19AjgebMRU/s1600/river+low.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioyIn8NG5YDCrAOZeROMcagjyjpx41c0xrxAdWOyLQCDKrEkdvKyatdZ3tVU9J00a77v1zclPGhp64ZyljS9EE8xCgoyMXd7fusRaLGIEtgtQYkj5uICRr-JLlGBL99jjGs19AjgebMRU/s320/river+low.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652614385296551346" border="0" /></a>ajrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221103219153345134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131350622835420407.post-22642860160998126402011-09-03T17:38:00.016+03:002011-09-19T21:34:53.697+03:00South America Part V: Drifting Down The Amazon<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfTci4Y44nhR2qU7Ngh5TLpVF5CGjV7VXyLZ8_sgQZwVGnFnPHsJAzPuCXbQC5EU9IkOP3gYb_d9mmLbmMOq94JkILfm7d79x4nD26-yPPT2v5vRmVxLZSLa3MshawEeZau22m1AA_0pA/s1600/amazon+river.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfTci4Y44nhR2qU7Ngh5TLpVF5CGjV7VXyLZ8_sgQZwVGnFnPHsJAzPuCXbQC5EU9IkOP3gYb_d9mmLbmMOq94JkILfm7d79x4nD26-yPPT2v5vRmVxLZSLa3MshawEeZau22m1AA_0pA/s320/amazon+river.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652641791435379522" border="0" /></a>Melissa loves the mountains. She couldn't stop raving about the beauty we were continually in and she felt deep peace and comfort there. I also love the mountains but it is water that brings me the most peace, contentment and life. It was with a bit of sadness for Melissa that we left the Andes Mountains and flew to Iquitos in the Northern Peruvian Amazon.<br /><br />Ever since the very first night in Lima, I felt like I could breath again. A weight had been lifted that I didn't even know was on me. It was in Iquitos that life really fully came back to me. Iquitos was hot and humid. Everyone rode on motorcycles because the city is only assessable by air and water. Things were slower. Dinner didn't start until 8 pm. Tarp covered restaurants were crowded near the markets with outdoor cooking stands. The markets were busy and hot with flies dancing around. The water was brown. The sun beamed down and I loved it all! It was the most like the life I used to live. I got it. I understood it. I felt comfortable there.<br /><br />We went down to the docks where there were no docks only cargo boats sitting on the sand being filled with goods. The first boat we went on was hot and dirty. The captain was indifferent to us. The second boat we checked out was clean and less hot. Again the man we talked to was indifferent to our wanting passage. The selling point for us was the butch woman we saw in the kitchen. We figured this Amazonian woman would be our ally if it turned out to be a boat of all men.<br /><br />We booked three hammock spaces and 1 cabin (really just a closet with narrow bunk beds). I knew I wouldn't sleep well in a hammock and we needed a place to lock up our luggage so this situation seemed like a good idea. The boat was scheduled to leave the next evening at 5 pm. We were there at 2:30 to secure good hammock spaces. The boat was a live with a million and four activities with men loading the boat with cargo and passengers setting up their hammocks. Cargo was everything from Fanta to cows to motorcycles. Probably some drugs too but they were not visible.<br /><br />It was incredibly hot on the boat while we waited for it to finish loading. I finally got off and sat on the banks in some shade and watched the loading process. At 5 pm they were still loading. At 6 pm they were still loading. At 7 pm they were still loading. At 8 pm they had finished loading and all passengers were supposed to be on the boat but they were still negotiating business with the so called authorities. At this point, we are convinced we are going to die on this boat from overheating. I went down to the open cargo area where the mothers with babies all stood flapping banana leaves or clothes trying to create a breeze to cool down their babies. I eyed the situation and slide up close to one mother hoping to benefit from her waving. With sympathetic looks I made friends with these women and offered to hold one of the babies. This was a selfish act. While I held the baby the mother waved her make-shift fan and I received direct fanning. While I did enjoy the slight breeze my torso soon became drenched in sweet from holding a hot little body and my arms became tired from the weight. But these were precious moments too. There is nothing like a little body resting in your arms. And there is nothing like a gathering of women suffering through a piece of life together in commonality.<br /><br />The boat finally pushed off at 10 pm. The girls went to sleep upstairs in the hammocks and I opened my cabin door trying to get the finally moving air in. Within the first hour we had hit 2 sandbars. By the second hour we ran straight into an island. It was a pretty big hit and caused the boat to teeter. I stepped out of my cabin to survey our status and found all the men passenger pulling on as many life jackets as they could get their hands on. Some were wearing 3! Not one woman or child had a life jacket. There are some things that really make my blood boil and selfish men who care nothing for the safety and protection of women and children really gets it moving. Seeing we were stuck and the crew was out digging in the dirt trying to dislodge us from the island, I went back to sleep.<br /><br />Storms can come up quickly and Santa Ana tropical storm hit with a force as we were still stuck on the island. The rain pounded in from all direction. I felt a slight mist from my bunk but found it refreshing. As I was about to drift off again I hear, "Amanda? We're coming in." And the three girls entered. We rearranged luggage and cuddled two to a bunk. The rain was raining in on the top deck and everyone had moved their hammocks and huddled in the middle trying to protect their belongings and stay as dry as possible. JaNahn said, "We're such Americans. We pick an adventure and as soon as it gets to be too much we go to safety."<br /><br />Eventually we got off the island and continued making our way down the Amazon River. The rest of our trip was smooth sailing and pretty relaxing. It was very slow since we stopped at every village along the river to deliver supplies and pick up other goods to be traded or sold further down river. I enjoyed just sitting on a bench with other Peruvian passengers as we watched the efficiency and order of taking on and off of passengers, the loading and unloading of cargo and the boat's orders of operation. The kitchen staff brought us meals three times a day. We had porridge every morning with bread. Lunch was rice and beans, vegetables and sometimes meat. Dinner was soup. There was nothing touristy about it. It was a functional boat doing its job on the Amazon River. I loved it!<br /><br />This stretch of the Amazon is the only place in the world you can see pink dolphins. We saw them! They were beautiful in their own way. Very interesting.<br /><br />The Amazon River and jungle is an incredible place. I am very happy we spent some down-time here.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Passengers passing time looking out as we floated along</span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_RVPAcd7PVSHPbO8zd9SbQHylFqgYWW2BPK1ieCquGeu7YDqJtuWIuxnjjDz2UpR3316LgrN3Ci-qy2BosJj8gse-peFmK2_SGJoqVtOX28_SQ1U0CDprU2gF6-DZk4dk5CMeJJK1VQg/s1600/passengers+gazing+out.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_RVPAcd7PVSHPbO8zd9SbQHylFqgYWW2BPK1ieCquGeu7YDqJtuWIuxnjjDz2UpR3316LgrN3Ci-qy2BosJj8gse-peFmK2_SGJoqVtOX28_SQ1U0CDprU2gF6-DZk4dk5CMeJJK1VQg/s320/passengers+gazing+out.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652641805225748578" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">Tributary along the river - villagers coming to gather supplies from the cargo boat</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZvXL3L3RFeOW6uwx18Ulzty9fMMND68VikkqkYHWuZbtcjX6t5lxaK9NQsQon4bA_PisIgDDWTIm284agaIFNDW_UFn_0xYSPjDuUZ-jlt8BxCh9D3tmKf4Y8EwFuUoNYJkn_6ZuzFEo/s1600/boat+traffic.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZvXL3L3RFeOW6uwx18Ulzty9fMMND68VikkqkYHWuZbtcjX6t5lxaK9NQsQon4bA_PisIgDDWTIm284agaIFNDW_UFn_0xYSPjDuUZ-jlt8BxCh9D3tmKf4Y8EwFuUoNYJkn_6ZuzFEo/s320/boat+traffic.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652641793110898690" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" >Little boys hanging out in cargo rickshaw as we float along</span><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrhBtzhcdSeyWkD0q-BcUfQpjwcUKcbrKPbupbRQ4P8CDjH8bjPy6z1BmkyVixIVsGVnqXigAeGWyAe7Cjeek7bLLhEe08ckWhqcTyyngVv87QajNKiBPGHyYAzHPQSHfr5iwaEzROtFs/s1600/small+boys.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrhBtzhcdSeyWkD0q-BcUfQpjwcUKcbrKPbupbRQ4P8CDjH8bjPy6z1BmkyVixIVsGVnqXigAeGWyAe7Cjeek7bLLhEe08ckWhqcTyyngVv87QajNKiBPGHyYAzHPQSHfr5iwaEzROtFs/s320/small+boys.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652641806558872402" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Cute kids we met - hanging out in their hammocks</span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP5pkzKo04J_HxEh0owq1oEl_cIUKyTwkuS2v_z44RXU2BNvHyM4YC8gm3xmMzzYKO-YqozSjbxak22Fv1-lDiPf5i4k8wfaq9rCcSY0h9Rq0m4uYPsA1zM3PD7uGrBgmebxy4XXHI7cw/s1600/hammock+family.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP5pkzKo04J_HxEh0owq1oEl_cIUKyTwkuS2v_z44RXU2BNvHyM4YC8gm3xmMzzYKO-YqozSjbxak22Fv1-lDiPf5i4k8wfaq9rCcSY0h9Rq0m4uYPsA1zM3PD7uGrBgmebxy4XXHI7cw/s320/hammock+family.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652641354861334610" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Melissa and JaNahn looking out as we float along</span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpjkVRiBKz1uNmGY_itZIbhBFigEYvjuzhFc6h9v9iP2fwb7FcsXRGc3ZADnlUdqQ7JyTgz6nGD-PXYnoGKvoihyphenhyphenp6Muf87APpew3FgjQpE_P8KYExLooNb8V-vQ-cNRBcw0fytd7Aq44/s1600/hanging+out.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 235px; height: 314px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpjkVRiBKz1uNmGY_itZIbhBFigEYvjuzhFc6h9v9iP2fwb7FcsXRGc3ZADnlUdqQ7JyTgz6nGD-PXYnoGKvoihyphenhyphenp6Muf87APpew3FgjQpE_P8KYExLooNb8V-vQ-cNRBcw0fytd7Aq44/s320/hanging+out.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652641347569768706" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Packed hammock space on the top floor</span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Hl4EXs4Ms0KyuOz7YE3TIU_5WqA8m2wWns2U-Ugsa3_wj8qP21gPgI4fv3V4ntc5XyP2vI8wRW8AWXU3YOLR92E5bsf88-s3Rro4Dh4i4aA6-MV5jS-84mUNOMkGV2lBpyZmZVyRRz4/s1600/hammock+life.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Hl4EXs4Ms0KyuOz7YE3TIU_5WqA8m2wWns2U-Ugsa3_wj8qP21gPgI4fv3V4ntc5XyP2vI8wRW8AWXU3YOLR92E5bsf88-s3Rro4Dh4i4aA6-MV5jS-84mUNOMkGV2lBpyZmZVyRRz4/s320/hammock+life.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652641344780894242" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Melissa with a stolen life jacket in my cabin</span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtaAXrERBQ6YIIncRFfFmoKG-pfOyXqw2NenEklKsdJ53CMlyqGk6EHoq5SP54-pl7quHgATL-F8tlMpykxyfYOwC0RTQhj5yrFu3hBZh4QcPQGXuV7Iql6kjcYWzS_IVreJ-o3ekXKmc/s1600/scare+melissa.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtaAXrERBQ6YIIncRFfFmoKG-pfOyXqw2NenEklKsdJ53CMlyqGk6EHoq5SP54-pl7quHgATL-F8tlMpykxyfYOwC0RTQhj5yrFu3hBZh4QcPQGXuV7Iql6kjcYWzS_IVreJ-o3ekXKmc/s320/scare+melissa.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652641358952949474" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Cargo on the front of our boat, at a port unloading and loading</span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVKdxCmwjAa7F7RggLLblbff9v1-Xhk5fLT_T717iU8GmDOY3GhKh8Z_0MD_IfQwecrcUMVVIaM_BVrNRR45Mjbyr9z40U9BD1e3bZ6uP4NGWFYr6Jkc37exPZrBio4HeQXHHWttUNYXM/s1600/boat+unloading.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVKdxCmwjAa7F7RggLLblbff9v1-Xhk5fLT_T717iU8GmDOY3GhKh8Z_0MD_IfQwecrcUMVVIaM_BVrNRR45Mjbyr9z40U9BD1e3bZ6uP4NGWFYr6Jkc37exPZrBio4HeQXHHWttUNYXM/s320/boat+unloading.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652640984946984962" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Village along the Amazon River</span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtvrHQQMEW6DNyEbs-sxGlxPrPvG6Amsx_xjNjaW5IfjPwj0iuPHt3i6748hCiOChfoaKqsBnj7iyEQM0qoaPqfSt_TaZn0YR1HUdXnR3OO_hqZyLEYzeXZ6ZtyNYlXwysEpvidOXuF4I/s1600/village.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtvrHQQMEW6DNyEbs-sxGlxPrPvG6Amsx_xjNjaW5IfjPwj0iuPHt3i6748hCiOChfoaKqsBnj7iyEQM0qoaPqfSt_TaZn0YR1HUdXnR3OO_hqZyLEYzeXZ6ZtyNYlXwysEpvidOXuF4I/s320/village.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652640977935095314" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Unloading cargo</span><br /></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhncQKvU2WZSlNjrPs1U7Mu44C5T_Z9LYk8MuEIdEZ8BQLFkQqXzYzJFLba3kCAddEHJjHW9BCsFramy7kCConZXbAG5hQsy_EJhKdEN7t28BhC1hyi7Kt9YvoKikslDW58u5xIrCNAEqA/s1600/passing+goods.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhncQKvU2WZSlNjrPs1U7Mu44C5T_Z9LYk8MuEIdEZ8BQLFkQqXzYzJFLba3kCAddEHJjHW9BCsFramy7kCConZXbAG5hQsy_EJhKdEN7t28BhC1hyi7Kt9YvoKikslDW58u5xIrCNAEqA/s320/passing+goods.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652640988368556882" border="0" /></a>ajrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221103219153345134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131350622835420407.post-58529079519401529232011-08-31T20:37:00.012+03:002011-09-16T16:05:03.663+03:00South America Part IV: Maccu PicchuWith our new entourage, we took off on the local bus from Cusco to Ollantaytambo. Ollantaytambo is in the Sacred Valley and the site of some Inca Ruins. Since we got there so early we had time to walk around the town before we caught our train to Aquas Caliente. It was a beautiful day. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJku9TN9SyCjHhyrYDPjwgWYQw678H1tp3ty0TJWGuB09Zj0xMkmqUqQk9vGVZkW9ChFDrUWJcPlUtjNIUxLg19EKC6TpVlDCQnXptIi_poxnrp203A9LDknd2RmIXJg0nzGcPcDb4Odo/s1600/janahns+egg+sandwiches.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJku9TN9SyCjHhyrYDPjwgWYQw678H1tp3ty0TJWGuB09Zj0xMkmqUqQk9vGVZkW9ChFDrUWJcPlUtjNIUxLg19EKC6TpVlDCQnXptIi_poxnrp203A9LDknd2RmIXJg0nzGcPcDb4Odo/s320/janahns+egg+sandwiches.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652651353261043074" border="0" /></a><br />Also since it was so early, we stopped on the street for some breakfast. These three girls scarfed down fried egg sandwiches (one girl a few more than the others) and I ate some delicious rice, potato and bean concoction. We all drank more coca tea hoping to ward off any altitude sickness. <br /> <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg14Y4zkv_Ua-tMRUefhX-Ob4INv3H54qK7mHuJ2eeLknxRx0vdL1fFFQhcfNODI8Yk3tBG9ee0-jzexnQx-Uo4MXmk_jIRtDfERD3sSzar629btROmcvuFG3426r0hIRsoC5_7U1ux2ac/s1600/Ulyantantambo.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg14Y4zkv_Ua-tMRUefhX-Ob4INv3H54qK7mHuJ2eeLknxRx0vdL1fFFQhcfNODI8Yk3tBG9ee0-jzexnQx-Uo4MXmk_jIRtDfERD3sSzar629btROmcvuFG3426r0hIRsoC5_7U1ux2ac/s320/Ulyantantambo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652648768396096770" border="0" /></a><br />From Ollantaytambo we got on the train to Aquas Caliente. It was a stunning and relaxing ride. Sadly, there is the tourist class and the coach class. I was furious when they wouldn't let us ride in coach. We had to pay more money and travel with the tourists. I understand the importance of tourism. I understand the income it provides for an economy and I participate in it with my travels. But I can only handle tourism to a point. And when it creates a clear division between travelers and the people and culture I have come to learn from, I become incensed. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIUFb_gJXme9SdO5m2ARAw2VrjrpRLBB2h4bjeZzmj8zFD_iij7XH7BZYUuV9PXa8iAVvTdVtVhWWGoF1MTffyj2RyhrUb7408QhP40-dycdi4wCzud-mg_LWewV4csjC0GofxmrVQzKw/s1600/Train+tourists.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIUFb_gJXme9SdO5m2ARAw2VrjrpRLBB2h4bjeZzmj8zFD_iij7XH7BZYUuV9PXa8iAVvTdVtVhWWGoF1MTffyj2RyhrUb7408QhP40-dycdi4wCzud-mg_LWewV4csjC0GofxmrVQzKw/s320/Train+tourists.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652648654956448594" border="0" /></a><br />Aquas Calientes is the base town of Maccu Picchu. It only exists because people who want to go up Maccu Picchu before sunrise need a place to stay the night before. I hated Aquas Calientes! While it was in a beautiful gorge, it was way too touristy.<br /><br />Since, I was about .9% afraid someone was going to check my passport number with my passport, I decided to go to the Maccu Picchu office in Aquas Calientes to clear this error. Ha! What a waste of time. The man looked at us like we were crazy and said, "What am I supposed to do about it?" Correct information is almost as important to Peruvians as it is to Ugandans.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_vxvcqYP-DqmFTAVHIRqkanYAegkw1si1TC7LC4iITuilXzMOKt2fZ9I9h11XNadiYs-tPOZETdx7Gz49kKoCzm7teTJ5vMCVtl2c1qxLymnRJZ2Mj-tGoBzsd2vvu8gqV8gCw7_NYRA/s1600/Aquas+Caliente.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_vxvcqYP-DqmFTAVHIRqkanYAegkw1si1TC7LC4iITuilXzMOKt2fZ9I9h11XNadiYs-tPOZETdx7Gz49kKoCzm7teTJ5vMCVtl2c1qxLymnRJZ2Mj-tGoBzsd2vvu8gqV8gCw7_NYRA/s320/Aquas+Caliente.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652648518232738658" border="0" /></a><br />The next morning we got up and were in line for the bus to Maccu Picchu at 4:30am. There was a collective excitement in the line of people. We were going to see Maccu Picchu! There was a slight fear in me that it wouldn't be all it was hyped up to be. I was feed-up with tourism at this moment but Melissa and JaNahn's over enthusiasm carried me through.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif2TO5VaF2uW6z7PTx8JPWeNol_OYaJUAAhWULk419IxtHLYLhFH9juZjVD4RBq_AqxziPXG9raJJ-5BLv-nTK9cdFgGSiLglNi_TlocvFLRPW0bw0F2VPQ9CPzUAiuh7vc8g8cdE9GRA/s1600/in+line+before+sunrise.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif2TO5VaF2uW6z7PTx8JPWeNol_OYaJUAAhWULk419IxtHLYLhFH9juZjVD4RBq_AqxziPXG9raJJ-5BLv-nTK9cdFgGSiLglNi_TlocvFLRPW0bw0F2VPQ9CPzUAiuh7vc8g8cdE9GRA/s320/in+line+before+sunrise.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652648338129482578" border="0" /></a><br />Maccu Picchu is all that people talk it up to be and more. What an incredible feat set in a stunning location. I was very impressed.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgShIFKWr_rhJ4kcpaK4oHsO092E6hHX8CZqgGED9eguqjR3TVHwHTvBxQYOPnDxg4SxNsjaZidpAAj6vUIuieIxovVvwBxbiSmhyotP678W2QI7YNt6YAN50mOrtaPcOzJffLIPCdZ_bo/s1600/mp+III.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgShIFKWr_rhJ4kcpaK4oHsO092E6hHX8CZqgGED9eguqjR3TVHwHTvBxQYOPnDxg4SxNsjaZidpAAj6vUIuieIxovVvwBxbiSmhyotP678W2QI7YNt6YAN50mOrtaPcOzJffLIPCdZ_bo/s320/mp+III.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652646998841545922" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBYDMOTP6CsxMbe-Z2nZG6dY4RhQ6zBUjx0u0mLX2Ah_P4sFkAnoZH6c3o1pHGk_Q0d8ueli6pmr2pcgF1JljU6WmkmjWfxaQxgILxSQUq0MhSkqocAcGmrEDn3VI0m7KOnABD9-zmsoQ/s1600/mp+II.jpg"><img style="display:block; 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margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeUHSTXafaVJ4mUvsy-4CrQLgOtf3GvitOSVogi8OtqgV_1sTQ2tm_m76heehEet0jxpFvLMxOTHKo3r58e9Pif78lVbrM__ym4IaA0MEZ5FpGBEpytVoh6lxRb1xXKcRlMWL8Vxnm0Ls/s320/mp+XII.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652648094076186610" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1RSLks9UFV3vYIppkcOovB_eioOyWuduOagbqd5Tqi-zA_Rctfkj9Ff6QMLBrfr4HWlEz5FLcBY_sX4n2k5jf9t6b3TCzh4PLAeFzriZ8pqEKfNqXPsz5uphiygaq1vhDXEGP3GHXSvI/s1600/mp+XI.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1RSLks9UFV3vYIppkcOovB_eioOyWuduOagbqd5Tqi-zA_Rctfkj9Ff6QMLBrfr4HWlEz5FLcBY_sX4n2k5jf9t6b3TCzh4PLAeFzriZ8pqEKfNqXPsz5uphiygaq1vhDXEGP3GHXSvI/s320/mp+XI.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652648090362559154" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAHX5efPXYoz113_tBRM8mp95VevN7l_pPK_oQVwUvtuksfA0aa6dmgjlDAuN2uHgHSDPH3tPzoNySGvTWkGdroh0U56KvYe90nGWPBJHLtNuOWWccoDzqmzJFRDyyihwr24rfjHwJdsc/s1600/mp+IX.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAHX5efPXYoz113_tBRM8mp95VevN7l_pPK_oQVwUvtuksfA0aa6dmgjlDAuN2uHgHSDPH3tPzoNySGvTWkGdroh0U56KvYe90nGWPBJHLtNuOWWccoDzqmzJFRDyyihwr24rfjHwJdsc/s320/mp+IX.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652648109429237490" border="0" /></a>ajrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221103219153345134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131350622835420407.post-81743723206240539122011-08-26T19:40:00.007+03:002011-09-16T02:20:24.528+03:00South America Part III: Cusco<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJvhIJNwSAUAmXtQAlAMrD26v6Cv7EEEDZwSyp3hlFEaNIB01g4iuLK9bOUr3OtU1LPQtqX5adYjVPHoTyr50htx5AUYbBofr_xgrdqWwYLIhwDv9IwPDLMsjC-K9-nPRfdt83ThonKVg/s1600/Andes+Mts.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJvhIJNwSAUAmXtQAlAMrD26v6Cv7EEEDZwSyp3hlFEaNIB01g4iuLK9bOUr3OtU1LPQtqX5adYjVPHoTyr50htx5AUYbBofr_xgrdqWwYLIhwDv9IwPDLMsjC-K9-nPRfdt83ThonKVg/s320/Andes+Mts.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652652883948977666" border="0" /></a>After battling altitude sickness, Melissa and I could hardly wait to be in lower elevation in Cusco. But first we needed to take the bus through the Andes to an even higher elevation. We took Dramamine that causes drowsiness and took off in the nicest buses I had been on since Taiwan. The seats were huge and they laid down with foot rests. We were very comfortable.<br /><br />While we traveled in comfort, we were still sick and exhausted. Emotions were heightened and our arrival in Cusco was not pleasant. Taxi drivers vied for our attention and with no plan as to where we really wanted/needed to go first (hostel or Maccu Picchu ticket office) our first sisterly fight may have taken place. But fear not, as only sisters can do, we made it through somewhat unscathed and with a slight plan.<br /><br />We had one day to get Maccu Picchu tickets for us and Kate and JaNahn who would be joining us the next day. We also wanted to see a few sites. However, with our late afternoon arrival and indecision of where to go, we arrived at the Maccu Picchu office after it had closed. We found a hostel and decided to venture out long enough to get dinner then go back and go to bed. We walked down to the Plaza de Armas and surprisingly to me, not to Melissa, we ate really good pizza (our first Western meal) and drank orange Fanta looking out over the plaza. It was a nice evening.<br /><br />The next morning we got up and went straight to the Maccu Picchu office to buy tickets. When we were almost there I realized I had forgotten my passport in the hostel. Figuring no one would really even check to see if the correct passport number matched up with my ticket at Maccu Picchu, I decided to make one up. And I did, almost completely confident it would work. We then had a nice breakfast and I got coffee before we went back to our hostel to await the arrival of JaNahn (our family friend) and Kate (Melissa's college roommate). JaNahn and Kate were joining us for the rest of our trip.<br /><br />With every car that drove past and every set of footsteps we heard walking by, Melissa would jump up and look out the window to see if it was them. A few hours after their expected arrival, the girls pulled up in a taxi. The street was incredibly narrow to the point where the hostel door almost had to be open so that the car door could be opened and they could shoot out. There were hugs, lots of laughter and stories to be told of canceled flights, sleeping in the Lima airport and also of our slowly improving health. We were all excited to see each other and continue (for them, start) our adventures.<br /><br />We quickly took off to explore Cusco. We visited Inca ruins, Spanish cathedrals filled with gold and silver, and made stops for hot chocolate and coca tea. Coca tea is supposed to help with altitude sickness and is made from the leaves of the coca plant which also can be made into cocaine. It has been a controversial plant for centuries.<br /><br />The carnivores in the group also tried the traditional dish of Peru: guinea pig. It came out looking at us and while they made valiant attempts to finish it, they just couldn't.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBblncwdFOg7fpXXnp6RvyNWMZk0JlVmaBKW9ERw384W5yvW3mYkZJohza5d4r4OUdZ3q_c3zxDFgsSKsGoB5wuQADSYb09_fo3zkX09SQK2OHW_zdNjOJ3ikCx71L_nFllAhb3NMxKVk/s1600/coca+tea.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBblncwdFOg7fpXXnp6RvyNWMZk0JlVmaBKW9ERw384W5yvW3mYkZJohza5d4r4OUdZ3q_c3zxDFgsSKsGoB5wuQADSYb09_fo3zkX09SQK2OHW_zdNjOJ3ikCx71L_nFllAhb3NMxKVk/s320/coca+tea.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652652648488631906" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmC70Ibue4l6xMKSb4IESr9XGFn21CbQClnK3cUJedlJJVXbeAvuuX4nPUtGXLqL0XvfMzQMV_fb5IRe0NI-HCEzEHXAifeerhC_SNUq8VO3WpZhAZIK1sabKotRrqFl2Z2S_OX5SIf1g/s1600/guinea+pig.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmC70Ibue4l6xMKSb4IESr9XGFn21CbQClnK3cUJedlJJVXbeAvuuX4nPUtGXLqL0XvfMzQMV_fb5IRe0NI-HCEzEHXAifeerhC_SNUq8VO3WpZhAZIK1sabKotRrqFl2Z2S_OX5SIf1g/s320/guinea+pig.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652652653649513682" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9rDbsg7deAQmp7ACK1KDJhPo_fyijW5af7nyFAce7ZiJl7PCcblKAr_1vMsCnPAIkXvRGNvRqjOXhTXhTkVxPP8xdCw0IVCejdDxaniWqFPnHQzdJnW-T-dwzEMSfvWOjNO69cs78Yl4/s1600/cusco+time.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9rDbsg7deAQmp7ACK1KDJhPo_fyijW5af7nyFAce7ZiJl7PCcblKAr_1vMsCnPAIkXvRGNvRqjOXhTXhTkVxPP8xdCw0IVCejdDxaniWqFPnHQzdJnW-T-dwzEMSfvWOjNO69cs78Yl4/s320/cusco+time.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652652804599357154" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsZQDNR8fb2OA_eJzwOAx-FTJmo-HysVM-NLmmoaYJeK_xhN1gn0IYPMpEUsoPgeK4tldImORw4RwUjRtadK5PhNA9tYTI3TWpfETvbl7pvHvU1TIE3aii3Egmr7zMzgDxRfuYZLIB3vU/s1600/cathedral.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsZQDNR8fb2OA_eJzwOAx-FTJmo-HysVM-NLmmoaYJeK_xhN1gn0IYPMpEUsoPgeK4tldImORw4RwUjRtadK5PhNA9tYTI3TWpfETvbl7pvHvU1TIE3aii3Egmr7zMzgDxRfuYZLIB3vU/s320/cathedral.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652652430081918578" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgktgMGyi1iHKBEQvRCl6WUIgy3dSrZrmy4QNt6kZx171tMD28_QB8-DdpVr14ZzgwoALnNOGGl0oQnauVM3Qs2mLTEVabmuJ35cyUWL9nguvNYBnuDGjPTVVcA1LGLuPCa3eaQ6ez99W4/s1600/cathedral+procession.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgktgMGyi1iHKBEQvRCl6WUIgy3dSrZrmy4QNt6kZx171tMD28_QB8-DdpVr14ZzgwoALnNOGGl0oQnauVM3Qs2mLTEVabmuJ35cyUWL9nguvNYBnuDGjPTVVcA1LGLuPCa3eaQ6ez99W4/s320/cathedral+procession.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652652433818942194" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMvf8sky7nb40Pp0VRAwguFWs-Ax1bJycQnMFZltPGYx39M_7AqIvVALa8gyncbAHg2PCPGASqcASd1nNTdXWp8NQd92RhZO1IFqjOwjXzaHe9gqWEcOt-aUr27gvpfXg-NsMA6cXDhbI/s1600/cusco.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMvf8sky7nb40Pp0VRAwguFWs-Ax1bJycQnMFZltPGYx39M_7AqIvVALa8gyncbAHg2PCPGASqcASd1nNTdXWp8NQd92RhZO1IFqjOwjXzaHe9gqWEcOt-aUr27gvpfXg-NsMA6cXDhbI/s320/cusco.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652652423249444210" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBlM6dx07yUrOqASJBWZBHji_dZp84NmHwYJh857K2R19LmpRKaCYw5Kdw7L_A8_tRT2O_oBMySu7iavyLSyiEkqb3wixowqo0bOeATZOK55vOoOFxUA5q0l8JibQRzSONy9vhUFV1ctc/s1600/cusco+square.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBlM6dx07yUrOqASJBWZBHji_dZp84NmHwYJh857K2R19LmpRKaCYw5Kdw7L_A8_tRT2O_oBMySu7iavyLSyiEkqb3wixowqo0bOeATZOK55vOoOFxUA5q0l8JibQRzSONy9vhUFV1ctc/s320/cusco+square.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652652416182762178" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSQvAWJdI4G7jbtisQHpO84bbOxmgtO_L_oYhpai5pXliOiVT4kCYRK7MIC1zRsMd_PM3s2JSDqvoN1REIf5SIIMSbcid-ESh4aVR0rk09PShL3OS3-pGh-TPXe_dE_T25NuwjUr_Jf9A/s1600/cathedral+II.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSQvAWJdI4G7jbtisQHpO84bbOxmgtO_L_oYhpai5pXliOiVT4kCYRK7MIC1zRsMd_PM3s2JSDqvoN1REIf5SIIMSbcid-ESh4aVR0rk09PShL3OS3-pGh-TPXe_dE_T25NuwjUr_Jf9A/s320/cathedral+II.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652652437464018978" border="0" /></a>Melissa and I had stocked up on our alpaca gear in Puno, where it is said to be the cheapest, but JaNahn and Kate needed to make some purchases. Maybe due to the fact that is was really cold or maybe because they were overly tired, the shopping got a bit out of control and later that night we put on all the alpaca gear we had accumulated between the four of us. Yes, we had become the epitome of tourist. But at least we were warm tourists.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjSPMJtGatVNYeAn1RZ2nnR-LEPBD1Nah7DZwAOAvbof4HoxI59PhKNRLUWPKbBKCxF8E1QmNl_kXB0daeRHxIQxbQWCASfuc7uzZHONeXlTfzQIXSP_tKUJusHL3T0EDwYIlPx38_jOs/s1600/alpaca+gear.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjSPMJtGatVNYeAn1RZ2nnR-LEPBD1Nah7DZwAOAvbof4HoxI59PhKNRLUWPKbBKCxF8E1QmNl_kXB0daeRHxIQxbQWCASfuc7uzZHONeXlTfzQIXSP_tKUJusHL3T0EDwYIlPx38_jOs/s320/alpaca+gear.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652651724046474610" border="0" /></a><br />Cusco was beautiful and rich in history. We did not have enough time there. I need to go back some day.ajrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221103219153345134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131350622835420407.post-18260498593693309902011-08-23T16:12:00.006+03:002011-09-16T02:23:17.181+03:00South America Part II: Puno and Lake TiticacaAfter Lima, which sits at sea level, we flew to Juliaca/Puno on Lake Titicaca which stands at 13,500 feet above sea level. Melissa and I have never felt so awful! We had altitude sickness as hard as you can get it before you die. I'm pretty sure. Our joints hurt, we had the deepest most painful headaches and I was vomiting. We took coca homeopathy, drank coca tea and went to bed. We didn't get up, except to throw-up, until the next day.<br /><br />Melissa and I made ourselves leave our hostel and see some sites even though we still felt awful. We walked to the Plaza de Armas and slowly made our way up the steps of the cathedral. Walking inside we sat down to rest. We stayed so long they started Mass around us. Ha! One thing I do like about the Catholic church is that you can walk into any Catholic church and follow along because they are all the same. I find such beauty in liturgy and communal prayers.<br /><br />After Mass, we had enough energy to walk outside the church and then sat on the steps trying to decide what to do next. While we caught our breaths and tried to not concentrate on our pounding heads, an older Peruvian woman approached us with a fabric bag slung over her shoulder. She sat down and began to show us all the alpaca knit items she had made. Since being in Peru we had encountered many homeless beggars and always struggled with what to do. Now, we had a woman who needed money and had goods to sell. This was a perfect partnership for us. And it was cold so alpaca knit socks, mittens and hats seemed like a good idea.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiowC9mPG-mEjuSlWyhN9mfBKwabUWEHfY6aBtB9Q58xH_QVRx4m7yWhSXpLC89BV3yRnNnM6ILl7yqncW0R7bxs3ug_KVqycDB1o0s9d1D6SC-6yCsK5mNmAO6oxLVTnzZp6SUikqzPdg/s1600/puno+cathedral.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiowC9mPG-mEjuSlWyhN9mfBKwabUWEHfY6aBtB9Q58xH_QVRx4m7yWhSXpLC89BV3yRnNnM6ILl7yqncW0R7bxs3ug_KVqycDB1o0s9d1D6SC-6yCsK5mNmAO6oxLVTnzZp6SUikqzPdg/s320/puno+cathedral.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652656915257456818" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHgZOKfAMpibu_6DBb5B6PPrVXxA4aHvZlkDhaohN8BEuTE75WvbeTUZ_v_r05zF37in1uvbc9JtwbvgmM0BndBVi_mf_8GWGySjYpJV_ga_JQxtfmVR764EkEpA23AaplhL8u1WP6gcM/s1600/peruvians+hanging+out.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHgZOKfAMpibu_6DBb5B6PPrVXxA4aHvZlkDhaohN8BEuTE75WvbeTUZ_v_r05zF37in1uvbc9JtwbvgmM0BndBVi_mf_8GWGySjYpJV_ga_JQxtfmVR764EkEpA23AaplhL8u1WP6gcM/s320/peruvians+hanging+out.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652656919287709138" border="0" /></a>Back in the 1800's, the Yavari ship was shipped from England to Peru. It took 6 years for it to be carried to Lake Titicaca, the highest navigable lake in the world. The ship was used to ferry people across the lake for many years and then was deserted and it fell to ruin. In the 1980's it was found and restored. While it doesn't take passengers anymore, you can visit the Yavari. Melissa and I thought this would be a low activity. It would keep us active but not require too much strength. A local woman on the boat was surprised we had come from Lima the day before. She told us when she comes from Lima she has to stay in bed for 2 days! We understood that need!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA5eGyCFqCeXOfSMBtsDi4tN3bFdrQiLk_MYLJRgY62o88t4ORck6Y6ncKSS1Q4gYrgU1NqD9ZGJH_bO_oFhZxpCRVbL9plWtCCQdyfb26PPWwAxFhzfu2XE-P4pqcmOVUy8rW4lE8S3o/s1600/Yavari.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA5eGyCFqCeXOfSMBtsDi4tN3bFdrQiLk_MYLJRgY62o88t4ORck6Y6ncKSS1Q4gYrgU1NqD9ZGJH_bO_oFhZxpCRVbL9plWtCCQdyfb26PPWwAxFhzfu2XE-P4pqcmOVUy8rW4lE8S3o/s320/Yavari.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652656769694904258" border="0" /></a>Besides seeing Lake Titicaca, I had wanted to see the floating islands. The Uros people lived near the Lake and when the Incas came they moved out onto the lake to save themselves. They created villages made of reeds that floated on the lake.<br /><br />There are local ways to get to the islands and there are tourist ways. 99.9% of the time I would chose the local way. However, I was so sick i didn't care how we got there so we went the easy way, the tourist way. It turned out to be very informative. They showed us how they cut the dead reeds and build their villages. They told us about their lives of fishing and knitting on the islands. And, of course, they tried to get us to buy their crafts and take rides in their reed boats. I had had enough of tourism at this point so Melissa and I got back in the boat we came in with a British girl and a Colombian woman. Everyone else fell prey to paying for a ride across the water in a reed boat.<br /><br />We made friends with the Colombian woman and soon she was calling us her daughters. We told her we were coming to Colombia in 2 weeks (my Spanish has slightly improved and I kept holding out two fingers saying dos semanas) and she insisted we stay with her when we get there. She told us she loves to cook and she will feed us well. Then with a big smile she said, "Mi casa es su casa." This made us all laugh and nod our heads. It's great to make connections when you travel.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd1QArv_RzNjiMyAZJWPi3XhA3HPzshGZx-BlBe_VPNJNuuLROVQfX4GiAJC6IZXTbq4ZqMWGrY7hSAfC8oC6ky16obZqg-JautSu-Z7ET9icc9g6v-tOTGTmrsoHSSI7y90vMYzQc_x4/s1600/floating+islands+I.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd1QArv_RzNjiMyAZJWPi3XhA3HPzshGZx-BlBe_VPNJNuuLROVQfX4GiAJC6IZXTbq4ZqMWGrY7hSAfC8oC6ky16obZqg-JautSu-Z7ET9icc9g6v-tOTGTmrsoHSSI7y90vMYzQc_x4/s320/floating+islands+I.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652656418233827874" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK9d1Z4-ZOUXWFJK7UTXzkRu_QoaZS0flF4Q3qOU7nBBZBHWdktjG1TEaGbFQUlCIkW7YLHcCJc7Au8-6fL6G_aABJD9HbSKbe_vtebLWqatUEtIBajxMzVVIk21g9pwUQv7jxdNVx_rk/s1600/floating+islands+v.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK9d1Z4-ZOUXWFJK7UTXzkRu_QoaZS0flF4Q3qOU7nBBZBHWdktjG1TEaGbFQUlCIkW7YLHcCJc7Au8-6fL6G_aABJD9HbSKbe_vtebLWqatUEtIBajxMzVVIk21g9pwUQv7jxdNVx_rk/s320/floating+islands+v.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652656437015653074" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgxX8_WAJPJrfqP9lG9rWrjEzYbQWyb3vhxlG_RWUKQq2VN8fs0zlT-I3xpk4Rew8g8B2NLx4i05BX_RXGuhGm49qcg9WISMeGARrM7r-xWyV5pGUATgtl_HOoTTO74JK85su8NUNFgEM/s1600/floating+islands+II.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgxX8_WAJPJrfqP9lG9rWrjEzYbQWyb3vhxlG_RWUKQq2VN8fs0zlT-I3xpk4Rew8g8B2NLx4i05BX_RXGuhGm49qcg9WISMeGARrM7r-xWyV5pGUATgtl_HOoTTO74JK85su8NUNFgEM/s320/floating+islands+II.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652656425642577650" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE-mHXMLzwD6bGtHY25bIF7IdxMKJTIZemESIWnuD8NRHoy8mDoaN7oU3CwM624kBCn3SAzenB4ZH2rlCJczbNZ6YXchtbxhfVK1EjTxVNKHdEBnn6AhPF6LK0kufIA3dmJDYRePEcVKw/s1600/floating+islands+VI.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE-mHXMLzwD6bGtHY25bIF7IdxMKJTIZemESIWnuD8NRHoy8mDoaN7oU3CwM624kBCn3SAzenB4ZH2rlCJczbNZ6YXchtbxhfVK1EjTxVNKHdEBnn6AhPF6LK0kufIA3dmJDYRePEcVKw/s320/floating+islands+VI.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652656542606779986" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV9n-ajAoUSXuoxztV7u-H-_WEnDs1F5pcbokxZ44DfnX_pRNktrMN9-LYyrUei7jhImExB_4mqlC-SSWRHUPBLvLBEg5NHxRrqaz_JvnfKHpahylEWZtBnc4Dcshka7d8pKOllBdpRd8/s1600/floating+islands+IV.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV9n-ajAoUSXuoxztV7u-H-_WEnDs1F5pcbokxZ44DfnX_pRNktrMN9-LYyrUei7jhImExB_4mqlC-SSWRHUPBLvLBEg5NHxRrqaz_JvnfKHpahylEWZtBnc4Dcshka7d8pKOllBdpRd8/s320/floating+islands+IV.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652656430726845426" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmJ-o2LR4lMKSghLl8FwSzYCTUkQZeXIwxj6Yqudu_vxGLhQDpwpwU-S-4wujxxXZ8sER0fIb8qSGt-xMKBQO2cy5Vu16JGic2s-YGu1Y-4bs_dEt2F_Zdsl82sl4F4H8XnigpadssVx4/s1600/floating+islands+III.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmJ-o2LR4lMKSghLl8FwSzYCTUkQZeXIwxj6Yqudu_vxGLhQDpwpwU-S-4wujxxXZ8sER0fIb8qSGt-xMKBQO2cy5Vu16JGic2s-YGu1Y-4bs_dEt2F_Zdsl82sl4F4H8XnigpadssVx4/s320/floating+islands+III.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652656427519594834" border="0" /></a>On our last day in Puno, Melissa and I decided to go to Sillustani up in the highlands above Lake Titicaca. These are pre-Incan funeral pyres and burial grounds. By this day we were feeling a little better and actually enjoyed our trip there. It was a hike up to the structures and the sun was hot though the air and wind were cold. My new alpaca sweeter kept me warm and it felt good to be active. It was an interesting place to see.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYqsxEUkErhj6LMCqIm4vIksPDfEWXfryip1AGteHjcnizJZ0sMLnFTqRY03Fc6cGERhGXdwrzx6uCRrPTGlKdipy9CIC5bNeo9N7Gv9CAX3TG_wJ8o9EkqcJWTwfv918rk22rtgE2WK8/s1600/Sillustani.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYqsxEUkErhj6LMCqIm4vIksPDfEWXfryip1AGteHjcnizJZ0sMLnFTqRY03Fc6cGERhGXdwrzx6uCRrPTGlKdipy9CIC5bNeo9N7Gv9CAX3TG_wJ8o9EkqcJWTwfv918rk22rtgE2WK8/s320/Sillustani.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652656111913169570" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLWgOU0nzs95EKAqygIfTFXjMCOfeoCRpitDa_xN4bdgmatI5JvJgR1We1IZCr8grl6IDDgf_p_gjEr6izqdHj2lTUjFKDgLMmBD006p3_2PTHMiS6lOQcbBwsSorw3vdgZvlm-6xnp_s/s1600/Sillustani+III.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLWgOU0nzs95EKAqygIfTFXjMCOfeoCRpitDa_xN4bdgmatI5JvJgR1We1IZCr8grl6IDDgf_p_gjEr6izqdHj2lTUjFKDgLMmBD006p3_2PTHMiS6lOQcbBwsSorw3vdgZvlm-6xnp_s/s320/Sillustani+III.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652656099022364482" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnjgjPcwY4e77kmg90CNlGr7hn1EV0hyfVLDM8tBfK5gj1T5J2y3anAHIakRi_60OS9N55yyBa5Xn_Hjhrap7TI5gJReIf-MTyt4aUoWJZC8M_UpoFeRosl1EX2twauAY8N891KcgjGwc/s1600/Sillustani+II.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnjgjPcwY4e77kmg90CNlGr7hn1EV0hyfVLDM8tBfK5gj1T5J2y3anAHIakRi_60OS9N55yyBa5Xn_Hjhrap7TI5gJReIf-MTyt4aUoWJZC8M_UpoFeRosl1EX2twauAY8N891KcgjGwc/s320/Sillustani+II.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652656114326063954" border="0" /></a><br />We were miserable in Puno due to altitude sickness so I don't feel we can really be objective. We tried to like it there but I can't say either of us are antsy to ever go back. I will caution EVERYONE I meet who wants to go to Lake Titicaca - NEVER go straight from Lima. Stop in Arequipa for a few days and gradually make the climb higher. I never understood altitude sickness before. Now, I can empathize with anyone else who has the misfortune of experiencing it.<br /><br />While the place wasn't amazing to us, once again we met some wonderful people who showed great kindness and perhaps pity on us. For these hospitable Peruvians I will always be thankful. And for our new Colombian friend, I look forward to time together in Colombia!ajrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221103219153345134noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131350622835420407.post-57591581566020717782011-08-23T00:28:00.011+03:002011-10-02T16:01:21.979+03:00South America Part I: I Love LimaBack in January when my sister Melissa was visiting me in Uganda, we dreamed of where we wanted to travel next. For years, both of us had wanted to see Maccu Picchu. Melissa was seriously talking with her friend JaNahn about going there in the next year and I thought I would tag along. Since I was already planning a visit to Ecuador if I didn't stay in Uganda, I thought it would be perfect for us all to meet in Peru after that. However, my sister actually has a job and responsibilities and couldn't make it happen that quickly so we planned our trip for the end of the summer. Not only did I want to see Maccu Picchu but I wanted to see the highest navigable lake, the Amazon River and jungle and everything else we could fit in a little less than a month trip. Melissa's only request beyond Maccu Picchu was to see Colombia. No problem, I said.<br /><br />Here we are several months later walking through Lima. What a beautiful capital city, greatly influenced by the Spanish and cuisine wise, by the Chinese. Melissa and I love Lima! While the people don't always look the friendlies, when you start up a conversation they are very helpful and kind. And honest! We took the bus the other day to another part of the city. Going was one price and we assumed coming back would be the same. It was actually cheaper coming back and the conductor on the bus handed us money back and took the time to explain this to us. What a welcome experience!<br /><br />It is Winter in the Southern Hemisphere which makes Lima very gray. Any color strongly stands out. I told Melissa my summer in San Francisco with all the fog and dreary weather, prepared me for Lima.<br /><br />Like many South American countries, squares/plazas abound every few blocks. Around the plazas are businesses, government buildings, museums, Presidential palaces and cathedrals.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Me in Plaza Bolivar (Bolivar is on the horse)</span></span><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfUqAxcqopDJbgcYD5OEI2h6bEeIrO-cKe1QmQPJz-OEpWiKVttgYqYP6ycdncEtmxvZ1LB-kuPttpjk7rWy5QZOL1WZuKCPD0NJLj-3b0rZz2ql9NTgKhoxYGAhn3xdR7qtG9wu_oLeg/s1600/3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 235px; height: 314px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfUqAxcqopDJbgcYD5OEI2h6bEeIrO-cKe1QmQPJz-OEpWiKVttgYqYP6ycdncEtmxvZ1LB-kuPttpjk7rWy5QZOL1WZuKCPD0NJLj-3b0rZz2ql9NTgKhoxYGAhn3xdR7qtG9wu_oLeg/s320/3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652663791975888946" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Beautiful blue church we walked by every day</span></span><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpENL55hd7vgrneW-HvGMH9tlwIJ9c-9y4ZF2hLs0JuvPvDzGUqXXIfQbIpJFaA4VOAngjlYXvjvo6MFteINpDMvkiCKD5hNaE3JUeRRmfMpqF6Fx8VaqIrH0N4AFHcB1dkK5oOmyJEIU/s1600/2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 235px; height: 314px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpENL55hd7vgrneW-HvGMH9tlwIJ9c-9y4ZF2hLs0JuvPvDzGUqXXIfQbIpJFaA4VOAngjlYXvjvo6MFteINpDMvkiCKD5hNaE3JUeRRmfMpqF6Fx8VaqIrH0N4AFHcB1dkK5oOmyJEIU/s320/2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652663788704204786" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">More dangerous part of town we were warned to stay away from but got lost and found ourselves there</span></span><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8oIn9mxLAI4CJ3Gg2aBmkmCeW6W8HFM3IW1WJQ-_ZBiyPSXCfBxv0XCamwsVp-wbmu9gSlYZoOcy8gL_yeD4PN2JLq9tjrryk7D_Hek2IBq2Sm50UsA11Rye1mOEBIBo-Bp5SX7wldmI/s1600/1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8oIn9mxLAI4CJ3Gg2aBmkmCeW6W8HFM3IW1WJQ-_ZBiyPSXCfBxv0XCamwsVp-wbmu9gSlYZoOcy8gL_yeD4PN2JLq9tjrryk7D_Hek2IBq2Sm50UsA11Rye1mOEBIBo-Bp5SX7wldmI/s320/1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652663786567972754" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Pedestrian walkway connecting Plaza Bolivar with Plaza de Armas - full of shops and eateries</span></span><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE22N3tA8hvcX_f3-ZGgZ7f-qF8NALv2_Cg_13SUS9InnMA3NJI0bgD3UH6siWNy_k8j1aDSgKZlTlwQzjBbH9M5SSdaerFN0gbrDarusCfuEyHX7Lg7Xo4XvBbsxen6m0obIrfBDTX_Y/s1600/4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE22N3tA8hvcX_f3-ZGgZ7f-qF8NALv2_Cg_13SUS9InnMA3NJI0bgD3UH6siWNy_k8j1aDSgKZlTlwQzjBbH9M5SSdaerFN0gbrDarusCfuEyHX7Lg7Xo4XvBbsxen6m0obIrfBDTX_Y/s320/4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652663799273099586" border="0" /></a><br />On our first day in Lima we went to the Plaza de Armas to see the changing of the guard at the Presidential palace. There was much pomp and circumstance as the guards marched with straight legs to what I thought was Peruvian brass band music but to what Melissa tells me was American composed brass band music. It was a surprisingly long ceremony but many Peruvians and tourists alike where there with cameras to capture the experience.<br /><br />We wandered around the streets, visiting different churches/cathedrals and eating a traditional Limean lunch of soup, fish and tea. After lunch we went to Catedral San Francisco. The outside is painted yellow but from farther back looks like it also has black polka dots. However, when you get closer you discover the black polka dots are pigeons! They cover the catedral and it's courtyard. We got there just in time for a guided tour. The only problem was that the tour was completely in Spanish. Now, after 2 years in Uganda, any Spanish I may have thought I knew no longer came to the forefront of my brain. I found myself translating everything first into Luganda and then into whatever Spanish I could pull at. It was rough to say the least. Somehow, I managed to get some of the gist of the tour and passed it on to Melissa. About half way through the tour, my brain hurt so much from trying to translate I gave up and we just nodded our heads and pretended to understand like all those around us. After all, we are Rodriguez's. It shouldn't be that hard. It is our heritage.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Plaza de Armas with the Cathedral and government buildings</span></span><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv5-IsJi17PUJmiOm37cVZKZD9QDGHKpKSonR38CoyCTA3hTuBzGMrp0xkQ6jZmQfJxKrhF_CVJzD1Goct6DEbwMu2HzFaOhanUWFrENaHUxWV4DqIkigx6R7LCJ1C_k9KNv0IYcG332M/s1600/6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv5-IsJi17PUJmiOm37cVZKZD9QDGHKpKSonR38CoyCTA3hTuBzGMrp0xkQ6jZmQfJxKrhF_CVJzD1Goct6DEbwMu2HzFaOhanUWFrENaHUxWV4DqIkigx6R7LCJ1C_k9KNv0IYcG332M/s320/6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652663511521156210" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">The Presidential Palace during the changing of the guard</span></span><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm4pdGUzn2Cgls3kN5skdSUuCzyOSTohbzdvYAPYmrAkoZJj26CKrD2rZElFWGfcZxKBLneHYf8bkis5yqbFUIr5yzvWWCavfjMnBndMv7I3UWZ-gMOaPRgLGLaO09ajLQYV1HGQreDh8/s1600/5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm4pdGUzn2Cgls3kN5skdSUuCzyOSTohbzdvYAPYmrAkoZJj26CKrD2rZElFWGfcZxKBLneHYf8bkis5yqbFUIr5yzvWWCavfjMnBndMv7I3UWZ-gMOaPRgLGLaO09ajLQYV1HGQreDh8/s320/5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652663505434291634" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Catedral San Francisco with the pigeons</span></span><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQQKBclBHknsMdpATHYpm5DTP0Xu-n1cwyJiLZx8C2QICrg_NNPcZBOVSNENsuSySFSQsd8drS7mIJEjq4k7VcPo-4ldCchvk1iqIVO1H6nt2TqBQrI8Zlu2wHtcRKmhNz3e0yiBIYjJU/s1600/7.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 235px; height: 314px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQQKBclBHknsMdpATHYpm5DTP0Xu-n1cwyJiLZx8C2QICrg_NNPcZBOVSNENsuSySFSQsd8drS7mIJEjq4k7VcPo-4ldCchvk1iqIVO1H6nt2TqBQrI8Zlu2wHtcRKmhNz3e0yiBIYjJU/s320/7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652663512983696450" border="0" /></a>Around every block is a new surprise for us in Lima. We found so many hidden treasures of beautiful doorways, interesting architecture and even street performers.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFXQb_NUXKDXaZN6l7nbhVIr4xJNEOb9o5jGMCheEC83YLW0nuwrlr5-xMfF1aUFv6ZpJtQ8Kwx0sFEE-a3_6GT1fSEvj85rFCmg-GyF6cmdXbTzbQmTGcBoi77IFzELpHto79vPPMvVU/s1600/8.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFXQb_NUXKDXaZN6l7nbhVIr4xJNEOb9o5jGMCheEC83YLW0nuwrlr5-xMfF1aUFv6ZpJtQ8Kwx0sFEE-a3_6GT1fSEvj85rFCmg-GyF6cmdXbTzbQmTGcBoi77IFzELpHto79vPPMvVU/s320/8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652663308043983410" border="0" /></a>On our second day in Lima we decided to go see Miraflores, a more upscale neighborhood known for it's stores, restaurants and craft markets. It is very touristy. Miraflores is on the coast and as I am a lover of the ocean, I wanted to spend some time here. The coast was beautiful though the restaurants that dotted the boardwalk were U.S. chain restaurants, much to my horror. Miraflores is a popular place to hang glide too and it was fun watching people do this. It was very windy and cold so here are Melissa and I trying to stay warm.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUvh_S1KK4jXZVWEv_rnhG-iH-Wg5ng4_bK5NJj6DnFKADATNzC_YnlYetwtpTZw11A_QadKpHpOP1-z-7-kz0Xfu24bOGKdoQyaDEGjGxvUmHptC2fgjOvUxJxzPoDzTiUGRjcMAxYP8/s1600/9.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUvh_S1KK4jXZVWEv_rnhG-iH-Wg5ng4_bK5NJj6DnFKADATNzC_YnlYetwtpTZw11A_QadKpHpOP1-z-7-kz0Xfu24bOGKdoQyaDEGjGxvUmHptC2fgjOvUxJxzPoDzTiUGRjcMAxYP8/s320/9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652663120200187554" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnGwLFQu5RuHuYFE75z_vJnzmZC96wDK8jBMVR4qAUJ5zeBpvfvuDc9OmUPaj_QRwNQHr4DAjWoC-Ujla4FI02AKW7B6o2kv7CZUV0mfZLy3jmbhhKjeej03KYDCyTRu-aCzLWTYu0dGo/s1600/10.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnGwLFQu5RuHuYFE75z_vJnzmZC96wDK8jBMVR4qAUJ5zeBpvfvuDc9OmUPaj_QRwNQHr4DAjWoC-Ujla4FI02AKW7B6o2kv7CZUV0mfZLy3jmbhhKjeej03KYDCyTRu-aCzLWTYu0dGo/s320/10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652663127580027474" border="0" /></a>While Miraflores wasn't our favorite part of Lima, I did have the best vegetarian meal I've had in a long time! After lunch we went to see some ruins. Melissa and I both appreciate history and we like visiting historic places. However, maybe due to our guides thick un-understandable accent or maybe to our sleepiness, we never really figured out what they were ruins of or from. The mud brick reminded me of Uganda. The excavation in the middle of the city reminded me of Israel. It was fun to climb around them though we still don't know what they are.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUK3M9KljXnYnHrCobyDqBEXhMcid31sErZzv6ZA2HyiJJEjXbMjpLonziGUEp3PsdfgYtVlYPv9YXKOG-tSmwBx9tE7kHU75wWjz-WinACzS4Z2NQbsT-PdsNVilihrY78hHufdqyzOI/s1600/11.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUK3M9KljXnYnHrCobyDqBEXhMcid31sErZzv6ZA2HyiJJEjXbMjpLonziGUEp3PsdfgYtVlYPv9YXKOG-tSmwBx9tE7kHU75wWjz-WinACzS4Z2NQbsT-PdsNVilihrY78hHufdqyzOI/s320/11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652662971318372258" border="0" /></a>In Lima we stayed with Familia Rodriguez. Having grown up in rural-Scandinavian-heritage-only-Minnesota, we didn't know any other Rodriguez's growing up. So coming to Lima and finding the Rodriguez Family we were sure they must be long lost relatives. Familia Rodriguez was an older couple who rented out rooms in their beautiful old apartment in Central Lima. They were very hospitable and kind to us. Papa Rodriguez gave us a map and a lecture our first day instructing us on where it was safe for 2 young women to go. He made big X's over parts of the city he deemed too dangerous. Every morning they made us breakfast and while I sipped a very satisfying South American cup of coffee and Melissa drank her tea, Mama and Papa Rodriguez would read their newspapers and sip their coffee with us. We loved this family atmosphere.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4SwTyweAqdCMxYxHfUrz6dJxPsYPQL8psmJpMQVVew9ltDdJcgSP4XjlXt69L0iw8yW8d0C6i_5TRXLC0pLkpZisG8q9qyi36pzBUnB4LQcgHoAdlyxFOe4euizzhYX7Obs7twlNMTCo/s1600/13.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 235px; height: 314px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4SwTyweAqdCMxYxHfUrz6dJxPsYPQL8psmJpMQVVew9ltDdJcgSP4XjlXt69L0iw8yW8d0C6i_5TRXLC0pLkpZisG8q9qyi36pzBUnB4LQcgHoAdlyxFOe4euizzhYX7Obs7twlNMTCo/s320/13.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652662804460436354" border="0" /></a>While our Spanish will improve over the weeks to come, at this point it is near extinction. I had read about Penas (Peruvian gatherings) much like a dinner show where a meal is served and traditional dances are performed. Because we were not confident in our Spanish, we decided to go to a club where Penas were performed in person to inquire on the times and prices early in the day. This way we could make our plans around the Penas and not show up at the wrong time due to our lack of understanding the posters we attempted to read.<br /><br />We walked down a very random secluded street past Peruvian men who knew the only reason 2 white girls would be there would have to be to go to the Penas club. They greeted us and kept pointing further down the street. When we arrived at Club Titicaca we were surprised to find many middle aged women in clusters standing around the waiting room. We were further ushered in to a ticket counter and after attempts at speaking and trying to understand what was being said, we circled pollo (chicken), the only food word we recognized on the paper the man held out and were handed 2 tickets and pointed at a door we were supposed to wait at. Not very long after, the doors opened and we were taken to our seats.<br /><br />What ensued for the next 5 hours was one of the most fun and crazy experiences of our lives. We felt like we had been thrown into Havana back in the 1950's. There was a stage where a live band played traditional Peruvian music and also crazy dance music. Every few sets traditional dancers would come out and perform folklórica. When they were not performing, the audience would get out of their seats and dancing on the platform. We had stumbled upon the great Limean pass time! They love to dance. No one came off the stage without sweat dripping from their faces and chests. It was really so much fun to see people doing what they love.<br /><br />Melissa and I enjoyed our pollo and were pleasantly surprised to also receive Pisco Sours. Pisco is the traditional liquor of Peru. It is a grape brandy they mix with lime and put an egg white on top. It taste similar to a margarita. For a girl who is allergic to eggs, this drink isn't the best choice. But it was delicious. You can't go to Peru and not experience this traditional drink!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-vYo5Kl5pvIRNoLUbd09J9dWIgV_xV4IP6licJcKedCx3wbTLoMqLAzsxxC_BFg61kDtRNunPAbkdH5BMnLVYCWKGd4z7_lL3xVJHHN4WWQtT5ex4B9NkN9wSYnIYmWwmwxHyXhWW3qw/s1600/15.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-vYo5Kl5pvIRNoLUbd09J9dWIgV_xV4IP6licJcKedCx3wbTLoMqLAzsxxC_BFg61kDtRNunPAbkdH5BMnLVYCWKGd4z7_lL3xVJHHN4WWQtT5ex4B9NkN9wSYnIYmWwmwxHyXhWW3qw/s320/15.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652662115009943170" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUcdaKth-LpaEzrGOEkePZLtWXr9_rwrYCZjLlzL5gFuoaGdAI3KV4BZXamqJoRnp_cOHF1PYoPUG0szi_Lht30eeZvUyXV5Sb5TORklj-glEQVWbOylPhtGJxBj0wRND9sfltuN529Z8/s1600/14.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUcdaKth-LpaEzrGOEkePZLtWXr9_rwrYCZjLlzL5gFuoaGdAI3KV4BZXamqJoRnp_cOHF1PYoPUG0szi_Lht30eeZvUyXV5Sb5TORklj-glEQVWbOylPhtGJxBj0wRND9sfltuN529Z8/s320/14.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652662108495808226" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgxog0kzj5hVZtfpGwApVQRbxgYnCNhY3oSJ6Wohq-2UaxTkF9yhEpbk8Kf8Bu5tfZKKDnGG8PaL4aJQOt5Hj5MtgCmKhOqC4lp-XYwTgGo1YoNVUDv6G4csg3ts8Qltt1rNyI8O8BqTQ/s1600/16.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgxog0kzj5hVZtfpGwApVQRbxgYnCNhY3oSJ6Wohq-2UaxTkF9yhEpbk8Kf8Bu5tfZKKDnGG8PaL4aJQOt5Hj5MtgCmKhOqC4lp-XYwTgGo1YoNVUDv6G4csg3ts8Qltt1rNyI8O8BqTQ/s320/16.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652662117231265074" border="0" /></a>Melissa and I also enjoyed eating off the street. If we saw many Peruvians buying empanadas, churos or most anything, we would try it. We only really had two disasters with this approach. The first was a pink desert thing Melissa saw several Peruvians with. Terrible. Just terrible. It was fake strawberry flavored soft styrofoam if you ask me. The second was hot chocolate from a street cart. Hot chocolate in South America, how can you go wrong right? They grow the cocoa beans there. Well, it was from a powdered mix. Not authentic in the least.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwSqvTSPCu0eayMzxuVz0wSsGpRs_i8Fi2aXVGA13kZ_7GcFKB8MeCV2Nf3SSt2pRO2hkiVjnyvK0P5osFrylNdrWlXWhHky04OJ1pwbhOkaKTTx3WVYaJZgrnXtFvRfuHplwhhGsTi7U/s1600/12.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 235px; height: 314px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwSqvTSPCu0eayMzxuVz0wSsGpRs_i8Fi2aXVGA13kZ_7GcFKB8MeCV2Nf3SSt2pRO2hkiVjnyvK0P5osFrylNdrWlXWhHky04OJ1pwbhOkaKTTx3WVYaJZgrnXtFvRfuHplwhhGsTi7U/s320/12.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652661885652133346" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEvbf7Nauc6cA6uSlEHfsrRARS-DnSKaflEn11O8jklKGCUeD4hGBWPF_EnJLWb8s-lBi0lxg8_9GmQdhLnV-JPN-vTuX9me9EfCNZlqVJVy3Xm1b1gJYUHi_Bg8s5EjifqOa99f5GY4k/s1600/17.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEvbf7Nauc6cA6uSlEHfsrRARS-DnSKaflEn11O8jklKGCUeD4hGBWPF_EnJLWb8s-lBi0lxg8_9GmQdhLnV-JPN-vTuX9me9EfCNZlqVJVy3Xm1b1gJYUHi_Bg8s5EjifqOa99f5GY4k/s320/17.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652661889265054418" border="0" /></a>Melissa was a very excited to see the animals that are so famous from coming from the Andes. Too bad our first experiences were with fake ones!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbUaBVkuLi9E4o-uREfJUxedr1VNKqOKsW9-3cOuXy0KXE2TgE67uU6dsPZxj8MWp30E9u06Hx6F6uHkM6ELe58uqCkgUBKHIrAtE9buY-WUxs_0H-x2nY_lWSWnVndLSft5J3uQKLb9g/s1600/18.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbUaBVkuLi9E4o-uREfJUxedr1VNKqOKsW9-3cOuXy0KXE2TgE67uU6dsPZxj8MWp30E9u06Hx6F6uHkM6ELe58uqCkgUBKHIrAtE9buY-WUxs_0H-x2nY_lWSWnVndLSft5J3uQKLb9g/s320/18.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652661705376128754" border="0" /></a>On our last night in Lima we went to Hotel Bolivar, where the Pisco Sour originated. It was good. It was over priced. But it was authentic!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjevANDgNGCsVWDossXuv8IVzB1DBhMuHsvuiTHRTZPi8XNzKqWxVddVEOFG3MNa07W2k7Oyzco9Ksu5LYqyxl-qvNWsXjvk0qA7uYyJ_wlP5DouZz-eK2tI1Z96ja8KYULpymIxwIkB_c/s1600/19.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjevANDgNGCsVWDossXuv8IVzB1DBhMuHsvuiTHRTZPi8XNzKqWxVddVEOFG3MNa07W2k7Oyzco9Ksu5LYqyxl-qvNWsXjvk0qA7uYyJ_wlP5DouZz-eK2tI1Z96ja8KYULpymIxwIkB_c/s320/19.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652661579577140914" border="0" /></a>Many people had warned us that Lima is a dirty and dangerous city and we should get out of it as quickly as possible. It should only be used as a passing through place. But Melissa and I loved Lima. We wish we had more time here. I guess we'll just have to come back someday.ajrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221103219153345134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131350622835420407.post-27168284793799815822011-08-02T05:53:00.007+03:002011-09-17T15:48:32.932+03:00Moving on...againThe time has come to move on yet again. There are many reasons I took this position but one reason was that it was only temporary. I needed time to re-learn U.S. living and I needed to earn some money for my next adventure. The City was good to me this summer. There are many things I have come to love about San Francisco. Somethings I will miss more than others. So, until we meet again San Francisco, goodbye:<br /><br />Fog<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinqgFOfjvacyDEPHNMH0TPKqx4OGWCzSX5-GNFCULgWnKBenEd0vKj7rrDJdKWdQzQf9DE8AjOOEnIZa1lqwpG0t_vyyoh65WmAmXUqDFN0HaAZXA1KRudJsPbbq1IkERwvBS67samsT4/s1600/fog.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 235px; height: 314px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinqgFOfjvacyDEPHNMH0TPKqx4OGWCzSX5-GNFCULgWnKBenEd0vKj7rrDJdKWdQzQf9DE8AjOOEnIZa1lqwpG0t_vyyoh65WmAmXUqDFN0HaAZXA1KRudJsPbbq1IkERwvBS67samsT4/s320/fog.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652670035896427394" border="0" /></a><br />Neighborhoods, Markets, Parks, Interesting Buildings and Murals, etc.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXaHlj5Hb1Y5YucRc8ezTW89Y4cGk8xbpJq2sc3f-hXlXimgD9hm3G2466ovc272hSmIXyqN2GXKnq2n8OiSA4XXbJQ4NpQ6zs6TKepPGbMOCKJaj1nfAC-yfDnv7k_aQ2G0o5Tu_92Mc/s1600/painted+ladies.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXaHlj5Hb1Y5YucRc8ezTW89Y4cGk8xbpJq2sc3f-hXlXimgD9hm3G2466ovc272hSmIXyqN2GXKnq2n8OiSA4XXbJQ4NpQ6zs6TKepPGbMOCKJaj1nfAC-yfDnv7k_aQ2G0o5Tu_92Mc/s320/painted+ladies.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652669723657316834" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb4TiOePUj6sgRmAicd7RRfG3E3DXYvnTT2y3SVSdh0XjbX4SXypXNzp-G0CZg1PpOZscMfUylGJW-KAMllLozrGPYxNrwNQuLcQ5TgPlsQ8Co8LLEr3XKMkVIFln5XOyZMAaBKeJXZrE/s1600/markets.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb4TiOePUj6sgRmAicd7RRfG3E3DXYvnTT2y3SVSdh0XjbX4SXypXNzp-G0CZg1PpOZscMfUylGJW-KAMllLozrGPYxNrwNQuLcQ5TgPlsQ8Co8LLEr3XKMkVIFln5XOyZMAaBKeJXZrE/s320/markets.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652669669444908434" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGzkMADzWqOGMwpsnnG0_6RBQ8-XHfPOdEdCb7eXbeW9hiWpQj6EMID3fyeM9PTHPymRwZXPYa_xAMAQ3smA-qUBlYV3bnltcmjdwgt7gVD4ABO_gxPmXQkI76tKUP1jhzc_EKim6RP2k/s1600/san+fran.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGzkMADzWqOGMwpsnnG0_6RBQ8-XHfPOdEdCb7eXbeW9hiWpQj6EMID3fyeM9PTHPymRwZXPYa_xAMAQ3smA-qUBlYV3bnltcmjdwgt7gVD4ABO_gxPmXQkI76tKUP1jhzc_EKim6RP2k/s320/san+fran.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652669665195017442" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVn60YXaGtV-kmBjVF8utjlMEkCO9WdT_VXyDqhGgg1bEfQiTt2FRSPXVq-eY18n9WLH6JprgYCvYf9DHcZaZ8cfWCh7oXBZs4GmpgEwWjPg0TLyukoqPS6njBv4fej3w_8UBrJ4QCxJo/s1600/golden+gate.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVn60YXaGtV-kmBjVF8utjlMEkCO9WdT_VXyDqhGgg1bEfQiTt2FRSPXVq-eY18n9WLH6JprgYCvYf9DHcZaZ8cfWCh7oXBZs4GmpgEwWjPg0TLyukoqPS6njBv4fej3w_8UBrJ4QCxJo/s320/golden+gate.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652669658898778850" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlfFuCcXFAC4wGzSauiQ7dy9CviBoFmTLQvhZxVBwo4o6BPfLLzdSqtz8fqQXqf4IAXaymxlr-te18Ak6xF7DakKbjjpUnJ2CxvmMFgt_pSnZg6UdKrNWBoLzjb0L864VU5N9UTrKsjxk/s1600/doloras+park.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlfFuCcXFAC4wGzSauiQ7dy9CviBoFmTLQvhZxVBwo4o6BPfLLzdSqtz8fqQXqf4IAXaymxlr-te18Ak6xF7DakKbjjpUnJ2CxvmMFgt_pSnZg6UdKrNWBoLzjb0L864VU5N9UTrKsjxk/s320/doloras+park.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652669728059357010" border="0" /></a><br />Great Food, Great Coffee<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXu1UFuOHuQVQhTXRkjjg328YX4NgVf98Bp88dkaqhSaSFA19TQ_a_nE5GCvVFmVx-WiQJDBWXlSnjgU1vYJ5rRvHB5A89y0gmiNSGvkCTFxI61IaL9h3ZOP2nZmqxDEnTrd42hRXiJME/s1600/food+carts.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 209px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXu1UFuOHuQVQhTXRkjjg328YX4NgVf98Bp88dkaqhSaSFA19TQ_a_nE5GCvVFmVx-WiQJDBWXlSnjgU1vYJ5rRvHB5A89y0gmiNSGvkCTFxI61IaL9h3ZOP2nZmqxDEnTrd42hRXiJME/s320/food+carts.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652669280829574418" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJkhD8BBD3fZPMC-H7THWoXXL2PTpq3nyUNoDhGMFfoqHVXqSygeB1A_BJzE7gNAAK9vke9Hn_L_71WLixWDZRl4XFvAMykXDp1OFE6qTM3Wn5CKilJjuggSYONbc0PDDjCIgydmdCmwI/s1600/blue+bottle+coffee.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 235px; height: 314px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJkhD8BBD3fZPMC-H7THWoXXL2PTpq3nyUNoDhGMFfoqHVXqSygeB1A_BJzE7gNAAK9vke9Hn_L_71WLixWDZRl4XFvAMykXDp1OFE6qTM3Wn5CKilJjuggSYONbc0PDDjCIgydmdCmwI/s320/blue+bottle+coffee.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652669287997398402" border="0" /></a><br />My Places of Refuge<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuS8Ypsu5M9eyoJTq9h9B-xdmZr0ws8DD6sviUlmoXRaYpzkR4H2uizem4KSR8Wlep5ME48kC5jgsrdayfJgYuT2g8Yyb544LaeVlzOGNaL-JXENjVRPj67sBgEiVQsCtg5AM_X1dTI7I/s1600/ocean+gazing.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuS8Ypsu5M9eyoJTq9h9B-xdmZr0ws8DD6sviUlmoXRaYpzkR4H2uizem4KSR8Wlep5ME48kC5jgsrdayfJgYuT2g8Yyb544LaeVlzOGNaL-JXENjVRPj67sBgEiVQsCtg5AM_X1dTI7I/s320/ocean+gazing.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652669097139790130" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaTQVzYdmnPMskU-kE-vZkxREUmGb5pUKnAS3wHaFfcMkagoguqfhSPMOBOFxE8Vn2TsbowduLTFC0jwTZnhkjK5nCfvfx0H63gDOk0vY_-SMLZ7f-9N3Q26GGc8mr-bmJe3gyilCgksE/s1600/ocean+beach.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaTQVzYdmnPMskU-kE-vZkxREUmGb5pUKnAS3wHaFfcMkagoguqfhSPMOBOFxE8Vn2TsbowduLTFC0jwTZnhkjK5nCfvfx0H63gDOk0vY_-SMLZ7f-9N3Q26GGc8mr-bmJe3gyilCgksE/s320/ocean+beach.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652669093449178338" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHNFM5_TqOocyp_r2AyeY5S-_YnsdIsWK4xrOj2TnqpurOEl-0nHhm38QmFTUSjpW8J3mM2rncadWY5QDBPtC1yT0HZQ8uzO-jMhiInIEfnRa7RjRXjWvGtdj1nloEFo18qjAYnoBtYLc/s1600/grace+cathedral.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 209px; height: 314px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHNFM5_TqOocyp_r2AyeY5S-_YnsdIsWK4xrOj2TnqpurOEl-0nHhm38QmFTUSjpW8J3mM2rncadWY5QDBPtC1yT0HZQ8uzO-jMhiInIEfnRa7RjRXjWvGtdj1nloEFo18qjAYnoBtYLc/s320/grace+cathedral.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652669103952016626" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">And the hardest part of leaving San Francisco</span><br /><br />The People - both new and old friends<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd3INRvlB6NF0_HvS4YVb5eVCPio5vJB2mWuYYIiWKIYhA40DlNvqr0r3EjRydDmUGGmDyi-PLeSwpTJvvLlH2Viq5L6wTN9u8Ihds5C9BRCUpMbDzKP4fZR8AM7PCN8C9PnfWS3XTWNQ/s1600/BFF%2527sII.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd3INRvlB6NF0_HvS4YVb5eVCPio5vJB2mWuYYIiWKIYhA40DlNvqr0r3EjRydDmUGGmDyi-PLeSwpTJvvLlH2Viq5L6wTN9u8Ihds5C9BRCUpMbDzKP4fZR8AM7PCN8C9PnfWS3XTWNQ/s320/BFF%2527sII.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652668755298070690" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgROe6EHplA5rr9w_jO7veJNuC8mjKcHRyjh3962mTs4xSA6tJ7RXGi7MoUh0iyrCQPfHtw3V0Kx7oMPy7tbsjigDsnbGdQZN-6jjmbJND5qCvn_A9lFCCC8_Ztgee7Wdpfd1_00yVbsYY/s1600/Me+and+Jenelle+hiking.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgROe6EHplA5rr9w_jO7veJNuC8mjKcHRyjh3962mTs4xSA6tJ7RXGi7MoUh0iyrCQPfHtw3V0Kx7oMPy7tbsjigDsnbGdQZN-6jjmbJND5qCvn_A9lFCCC8_Ztgee7Wdpfd1_00yVbsYY/s320/Me+and+Jenelle+hiking.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652668501118508978" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixs3_z5c5FLX0KZCN0r4Q7w5Q6mCK0xHnFQhNoGOkDm5QR5T60052MjQDt8hWs5fSkXx8MqSNSurXetXCQWWeQfMVjhbsgd33U4uQED38XV4hyryxUQXrqD5UFoR1C2l0otuhyWm3JJ-4/s1600/friends.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 235px; height: 303px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixs3_z5c5FLX0KZCN0r4Q7w5Q6mCK0xHnFQhNoGOkDm5QR5T60052MjQDt8hWs5fSkXx8MqSNSurXetXCQWWeQfMVjhbsgd33U4uQED38XV4hyryxUQXrqD5UFoR1C2l0otuhyWm3JJ-4/s320/friends.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652668504808893026" border="0" /></a>ajrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221103219153345134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131350622835420407.post-20250665960323576582011-07-24T07:02:00.003+03:002011-07-28T06:07:13.334+03:00Peace Corps WishesI was at the park standing in line to use the bathroom and over heard a conversation behind me between two women discussing public bathrooms. One woman was expressing her disgust with public bathrooms claiming how dirty they are. In my head I am contributing to the conversation saying I agree and that I prefer latrines. You squat and go, not having to worry about a toilet seat. As I am thinking this, the very words are expressed by the other woman! She then starts to talk about her experience with latrines in Haiti back when she was in the Peace Corps. At this point, I have to turn around and introduce myself. We chat about the Peace Corps and its tremendous influence on our lives. We exchange numbers and both smile at the small world we really live in. And then we enter our respective stalls both wishing it was a latrine.ajrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221103219153345134noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131350622835420407.post-22822031834634238532011-07-21T04:55:00.003+03:002011-07-28T05:56:21.154+03:00Melissa Visits!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj47v026Zh9PuQiSKepyn3M7t8aF1muKIBXjK5U9s_szHpMfCeC4w_En54U7w99AMGRPgI4jXUVxyKQPKiCinpy0iFTHnBJwcTcmGcEoEviO2rEpu56nti04JbV_piEN2WLKpQ26XHHzD0/s1600/Redwoods.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj47v026Zh9PuQiSKepyn3M7t8aF1muKIBXjK5U9s_szHpMfCeC4w_En54U7w99AMGRPgI4jXUVxyKQPKiCinpy0iFTHnBJwcTcmGcEoEviO2rEpu56nti04JbV_piEN2WLKpQ26XHHzD0/s320/Redwoods.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634230109495894466" /></a><br />Melissa came to visit. Yay for great sister time and exploring Redwood forests, seeing the "Painted Ladies" (Full House houses) and partying with good friends in Oakland together. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr4WsSSN6N0-O3Z27UciBgjkGKwiXiu6rRRAlAWkRZIMYzAofHpz1F9qSISGWQgOZ_SwWeDiLtYpjtyfooQVMRJ9rf8hMZa632BjNImpIJM6iX_Md3VfxMbOIf_51ibbINAkc-oUA3wOY/s1600/Painted+Ladies.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr4WsSSN6N0-O3Z27UciBgjkGKwiXiu6rRRAlAWkRZIMYzAofHpz1F9qSISGWQgOZ_SwWeDiLtYpjtyfooQVMRJ9rf8hMZa632BjNImpIJM6iX_Md3VfxMbOIf_51ibbINAkc-oUA3wOY/s320/Painted+Ladies.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634231070785125906" /></a>ajrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221103219153345134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131350622835420407.post-43514560863846966632011-07-15T00:23:00.003+03:002011-07-15T00:40:46.145+03:00My ModelI go to a yoga class at the Y on Wednesday mornings. I have been going for a few weeks now and there is one woman who stands out to me each time. She is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. At somewhere in her 70's, she has shoulder length silver/gray curly hair, high cheek bones, and strikingly perfect posture. When she is doing yoga every position is model perfect. Everything looks so easy when she moves and poses. I admire her greatly. <br /><br />Yesterday, after class, we were in the same cove of lockers in the locker room. We made eye contact and smiled and then she said, "I'm glad to see you in class again this week. Thanks for coming." That was pretty much the extent of our conversation but it made my day. My yoga hero recognized me and was glad I was part of her class! I want to model this behavior and also make others feel welcome and important.ajrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221103219153345134noreply@blogger.com0