Wednesday, March 17, 2010

The Towers of Pain

The name evokes a daunting image. Torres Del Paine - an iconic symbol of the fierce Patagonian winds that have carved away the faces of these Andean mountain peaks. This Chilean national park is a large reason why Patagonia has been on my to-do list for so long.


From Chile - Torres Del Paine


The experience of hiking in this region comes with its own set of memories that pictures cannot capture. I met my hiking companion, Michael (21 yrs old, England), in a hostel. He is in the middle of a 9 month journey which started in Nepal and has led him to here. We were both looking for a competent hiking partner and I feel we both lucked out in finding each other.

From Chile - Torres Del Paine

Gear shops outside the park offer tent rental and other camping equipment necessary to camp for the 6 days we'd be hiking. We picked up a load of angel hair pasta, tomato sauce and canned tuna at the local supermarket and hit the trail. The weather was cooperative, which is notoriously fickle. In lower altitudes it warmed up to 60 deg during the day and didn't drop much below 40 at night.

From Chile - Torres Del Paine

The wind is what made this hiking experience more unique than any I've been on. It's hard to describe how windy certain sections of the trail were, or how much wind the tent endured every night. I can only offer a few anecdotes: At times the wind was so strong that I couldn't walk, and without a trekking pole to lean on, probably would have been knocked over. Other times, leaning into the wind and walking sideways was the only way to travel in a straight path. An unfortunate couple setting up their tent were shocked when the wind picked up their tent, blew it 100 feet up in the air and 60 feet out to the middle of a lake. Greeting other hikers on the trail was sometimes futile as the sound of the wind drown out any other audible sounds.

From Chile - Torres Del Paine

One of the more interesting phenomenon was the way the wind whipped up mists of water on one of the lakes. In the afternoon sun, the surface of the lake erupted into random explosions of rainbow.

From Chile - Torres Del Paine


We had one day of really foul weather where the rain was coming in sideways all day long. After 6 hours of hiking I was soaked and freezing. My right arm was nearly numb from the cold. Lifting your head meant needles of water hitting your face. It was great.

From Chile - Torres Del Paine

That's it for now, something short and sweet to get started.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

An Overview: Brazil, Uruguay, Argentina

I met Nate four years ago, back when he had a job-type-job and lived nearby. Two years ago, Nate downsized his life, quit his job, and started traveling. He eventually ended up working in Mexico City, where he met Charlene, a recent Brazilian transplant. In January 2009, Charlene, (nicknamed Chu, which sounds like "shu"), moved back to Brazil to help take care of her sick father. Nate was already making plans to leave Mexico, and so he followed her. The timing was finally right for Nate and I to travel together, so I followed Nate to Brazil.

Nate and I traveled together for one month. I met Nate and Chu in Sao Paulo and the three of us headed south along the the Brazilian coast. Chu then returned to her family while Nate and I dipped into Uruguay and Beunos Aires before quickly looping back.

I hope you keep reading, but if you just want to check out my pictures, it's cool. They are here.

I decided against keeping a travel blog while I was there. Given the short length of the trip and the lack of downtime, I limited my time on the computer and tried to keep a short written journal. I like writing about my travels, but writing an account post-trip lacks the urgency I normally feel to capture the chronological details of where I've been and what I've been doing. The truth is, I don't have any great travel stories, or any special insight to the places I've been. I've given some thought to the process of travel and have recounted a few episodes, just for the hell of it. But first, an overview:

Brazil is a wonderful country. In addition to beautiful land and warm weather, the people are friendly, happy and patriotic. Feel-good music permeates daily life and grilled meat is a dietary staple, all good things. Economically, Brazil dominates South America and the quality of life is relatively high. Despite the characteristics and richness in culture that makes Brazil a pleasant place to be, it can be a tough nut to crack for the backpacker. It's a sentiment that I kept coming across as I talked with other travelers.



South America has a lot of well-worn backpacking routes and Brazil seems to interrupt this South American experience in a number of different ways. Portuguese, which is phonetically complex, is a difficult shift for travelers who have been relying on rudimentary Spanish. Also distinguishing Brazil from its South American neighbors are its size, economy, and ethnic background. Brazil is the largest and the most expensive Latin American country with a racially mixed, immigrant population.

Brazil is big, really big, bigger than the Continental United States, and everything feels like it's far apart. The large distance between one point of interest an another kept giving me the conflicting feeling that I was simultaneously missing a whole lot in between and legitimately skipping over a whole lot of nothing. Or perhaps it is just a psychological hurdle that makes me feel that no matter how much I see, I am missing an infinite amount more.

Brazil's long coastline and fertile ground made it a magnet for European settlers and their African slaves. The racial diversity is so great that virtually any North American could pass as Brazilian. It was the first time I've been to a country where people consistently assumed I was a native, which kept throwing me off. Skin color aside, it's usually pretty easy to pick out someone from another continent by the clothes they wear or the accessories they carry. Small things, like an unfamiliar logo, are adequate indicators. I've managed to put together a completely forgettable, non-descript wardrobe of black t-shirts, which perhaps contributed to the confusion. I was actually thinking about this while I waited to board my flight back home. I was sitting next to a friendly mom whose toddler kept reaching out to me in an effort to play. I was happy to entertain the little girl and the mother was all smiles. When boarding started, I pulled out my ticket, which was inside my passport. The mother saw it and said, "Ah, you're American, that's why you're not talking. My daughter is also American, her dad lives in Florida." I was a little surprised, even while waiting to board a flight to the U.S., I apparently gave this woman the impression that I might be Brazilian. I mention all of this because it has the combined effect of making Brazil a little less accessible to the outsider, at least in the immediate sort of way. Blending in has its advantages in certain situations, but sticking out like a sore thumb offers more of an invitation for help, advice, curiosity and hospitality.


Tourism is certainly a key component in the economy, but the bulk of tourism dollars are not coming from budget backpackers. As money gets dumped into resorts and travel packages, a separation between cultures starts to occur, and the backpacker is left in between. Like many emerging countries, there is great inequity between the upper and lower economic classes, but Brazil is experiencing a relative boom in the middle class. I think the backpacker notices this (again, compared to other South American countries) as there is more of a class divide between those who use public transportation and those who don't, those who are independent and those who are not.

As I write this, I realize that it sounds as if I'm complaining that Brazil isn't 3rd world enough to be good for backpacking. This isn't the case. I believe that this notion of showing up to a country and wanting to discover something about it is dependent on both the country and the traveler having a certain level of accessibility. My inability to speak Portuguese coupled with my apparent ease at looking Brazilian did not make me very accessible. This was also likely compounded by my travel companions, Chu and Nate, who consistently spoke Spanish and Portuguese unless they were talking to me. It would be easy for someone to hear Nate and Chu speaking and assume that I also spoke Portuguese. Traveling with Nate and Chu also shielded me from a lot of direct interaction with people, whether it be the guy selling bus tickets, the woman selling empanadas, or the taxi driver.

Traveling with people who have significantly better communication skills is a double-edged sword. Getting needed information, or good advice, is much easier than simply relying on the few natives who have bothered to learn my native English. In the past, this reliance has put me in uncomfortable positions and effectively limits the number of people I can converse with. On the the flip side, standing next to someone while they do all of the legwork in complete fluency put me on the outside of the experience. It's natural for a travel companion who speaks the native language to do most of the talking but I couldn't help feeling like I was missing something as Chu got directions from the bus terminal or a restaurant recommendation from a passerby. At one point, the three of us were at the bus station and I was standing with my pack waiting for Nate to finish a phone call so we could board the bus. The plans had been slightly altered and after some confusion we finally boarded. When Nate sat down he said, "You know, I just realized that there are large spans of time where you have no idea what's going on." Plans were being made and re-made in another language, and I was just tagging along.

One avenue of accessibility that is opening up not just in Brazil, but all over the world, is couch surfing. Nate turned me on to couch surfing (CS) last year. It's a community web site, kind of like Facebook for travelers. Its basic functionality is to coordinate people who need a place to sleep, and people who can offer a place to sleep. Its greater purpose is to bring people of different backgrounds together, open up the inside track for tourists and allow people on a tight budget to travel for longer periods of time.

Its formal mission statement: Participate in Creating a Better World, One Couch at a Time
"CouchSurfing seeks to internationally network people and places, create educational exchanges, raise collective consciousness, spread tolerance and facilitate cultural understanding. As a community we strive to do our individual and collective parts to create a better world, and we believe that the surfing of couches is a means to accomplish this goal. CouchSurfing is not about the furniture, not just about finding free accommodations around the world; it's about making connections worldwide. We make the world a better place by opening our homes, our hearts, and our lives. We open our minds and welcome the knowledge that cultural exchange makes available. We create deep and meaningful connections that cross oceans, continents and cultures. CouchSurfing wants to change not only the way we travel, but how we relate to the world!"
If Couch Surfing sounds implausible, consider the current statitics: 1.1 million members representing 232 countries, 800 thousand available couches, and 2.1 million positive experiences, which represents 99.809% of all member experiences.

In addition to hosting and being hosted, many cities have active CS groups who organize social events with open invitations. In Uruguay and Buenos Aires, CS communities have weekly meet-ups at local bars, which was a great avenue to meet some friendly locals. Our stay in Montevideo (Uruguay) was almost cut short because of shortage of hotels and hostels, which were booked up by conference attendees. Nate and I went to a CS meet-up, and when a fellow surfer heard our plight, he offered us a place to stay right on the spot. At the end of my trip, I arrived in Sao Paulo, alone, the day before my flight home. I had flown in from the Argentinian border and had contemplated getting a hotel near the airport, which was an expensive ride from the center of the city. Had it not been for CS, I probably would have had a uneventful night in a crummy hotel. Instead, I had an incredibly fun night of good conversation, friendly people, and a nice home to sleep in. In the morning my host took me to her favorite place for breakfast before seeing me off to the airport. CS has the power to really change the landscape of travel, and I'm excited to take advantage of it as a surfer and as a host.




When I think about what makes Couch Surfing a powerful organization, it is that people are optimistic about the unknown. It reminds me of something Paul Theroux wrote:
“A traveler has no power, no influence, and no identity. That is why a traveler needs optimism and heart, because without confidence travel is misery. Generally the traveler is anonymous, ignorant, easy to deceive, at the mercy of the people he or she travels among."
Couch Surfers seem to understand and embrace this idea. They also seem to understand the value in traveling alone and the affect that has on your interactions with other people, which is sometimes hard to explain. I like what Jonathan Raban had to say about traveling alone verses traveling with a companion:
"Whereas traveling alone, everything happens. And also traveling alone puts you in this position where you will do almost anything to make contact with other people. My experience of traveling with somebody else is that you just hang around with them. Half the point of traveling alone is that you get so lonely you need to talk to other people. And so you find yourself hanging around late at night in bars talking with strangers, which you'd never want to do. It would seem an insane thing to be doing."
Perhaps this sense of optimism is amplified by the cross-cultural aspect of CS. It's easier to be more forgiving, more open-minded, more grateful when you're reaching across a cultural divide. Pico Iyer said it well:
"When walking down the street in Damascus or Ascunsion, I would find everyone interesting, and I would want to hear every story around because I wouldn't be walled in by the illusion that I know them. In Santa Barbara, I tell myself that I know something about a stranger's circumstances and can read something of them - which is, I think, an illusion."
Nate is actually the person who introduced me to couch surfing. He surfed a fair amount during his travels, and hosted many, many people while living in Mexico City. I'm grateful for his insight into travel and we share many ideals. In preparing for the trip, Nate and I were talking over Skype and he was checking out my CS profile. He started laughing at what I had written:
"It seems people have either too much time and not enough money, or too much money and not enough time. It's a tragedy."
I asked why he thought that was funny. He directed me towards his own CS profile, which read:
"Current Mission: "Change the inequity of time vs money and gain wealth in life experiences"
So we are kindred spirits, but not without our disagreements. It's funny how our different travel experiences have shaped our philosophies. He has traveled mostly in Latin America, speaking the native language, and without the burden of a return ticket home. I've traveled mostly to countries where the native language is largely inaccessible and have always had a return date scheduled in advance.

Nate has a rule: When he feels like he's exhausted the value of staying in one place, he stays one more day. He swears by this and claims that certain towns have ways of redeeming themselves. I don't doubt that this has paid off for him, but I've always enjoyed the freedom of arriving at a place, sizing it up, and deciding to just keep moving. These decisions of whether to stay or go are a gamble on time, which has always been a commodity for me.

Nate and I were talking about these around-the-world-trip tickets, which are gaining popularity these days. It's basically a package of airline tickets where you pick a few points around the globe and make your way from continent to continent, all for one low price. To me, it sounds like a good way to gamble your time. Nate disagrees. Every time he meets a traveler on one of these trips, they sound miserable, just comparing one place to the next. The conversation inevitably turns to, "Oh country X had better monuments/ruins/museums than country Y, but country Y had better beaches/food/mountains." Of course the people telling Nate all of this don't see their experiences as negative, but Nate is never impressed. Nate wants to travel slow, and when he doesn't like a place, he wants to stay there and talk to everyone he meets. I love him for it.

The Value of Coke

I have a distinct memory of walking around the dusty streets of Narok, a small Kenyan city, full of strewn garbage and crumbling concrete. The sky was clear, the air was hot and dry. People eyed me with suspicion. I was uncomfortable, physically and mentally. I bought a bottle of Coke from the corner store. The refrigerator rattled away, but barely managed to chill the stained bottles. I remember the Coke was delicious and it tasted like home.

I was thinking about that experience my first day in Brazil. Nate, Chu and I had been walking the hilly streets of Sao Paulo in the sweaty mid-day heat. My body felt a little out of sorts, partly from the new environment and partly from restless night I spent on the plane. I was hot, thirsty, and tired, so when Chu suggested that we stop for a Coke, I didn't waste time locating the nearest cafe. I shared my sentiments: "Coke is one of the most comforting drinks in the world. You can find it in any country."

Nate, always opinionated an unapologetic, incites arguments without hesitation. He tells people what they don't want to hear. I think most people really love this about him. It's a beautiful thing to watch him cut through the extraneous information of an argument and spell out the heart of an issue. I had been in Brazil for no less than four hours and he was already kicking off an argument that would continue for the rest of my trip.

Brazil has a kind of national soft drink called Guarana, which is named after the Amazonian berry that gives it its sweet, citrus flavor. It's loaded with caffeine and is very popular. Nate immediately pointed out that my nostalgia for Coke was preventing me from trying a more superior beverage, and I should be ashamed of myself for supporting a large multi-national conglomerate which not only exploits resources and people, but literally destroys every culture it touches. It was all a bit dramatic.

I was a little surprised at his tone. I was pretty sure that it was Chu, not me, who had suggested that we get a Coke. That was the word she used, "Coke", not "Guarana", not "something cold to drink", she said "Coke". We quibbled back and forth. I was said that it wasn't a big deal, and he held his position. I eventually lost patience him. "Look man, I'm going to try some Guarana just as soon as I feel like it. But right now I feel like having a Coke, and that what's I'm going to drink. Get off your pedestal, this nonsense about Coke being an evil company. Are you telling me that you've never bought gasoline supplied by an oil company that wasn't responsible for raping the land of a third world country with no regard for the rightful owners?"
"I just think you're making a big mistake, that's all."
That's how the conversation went every time we bought something to drink. I started buying Coke out of spite.


Later I learned what had spurred the argument. Coke is producing their own guarana-based drink and constricting business for the Brazilian-based soft drink through exclusivity contract agreements with vendors. Coke had also bought up a bottling facility in Chu's hometown, only to shut it down and send everyone home. Boo-hoo though. I didn't come to Brazil to defend the dynamics of the free market. Not to mention that Nate and Chu were hypocrites in the matter. In addition to occasional Coke consumption, they very frequently purchased bottled water produced by Coke-owned companies. There was no way I was going to concede this argument, especially when Coke is so wonderful and delicious.

A few days later we were returning from an all-day boat trip. We passed a convenience store and I noticed an ice cream freezer sitting near the door. I had a flashback accompanied by another nostalgic craving. When I was in China, I somehow got addicted to ice-cream-on-a-stick. I ate one everyday during that hot China summer, and seeing that freezer made me need one at that moment. We had spent all day in the sun and there nothing that was going to relieve my agony like a frozen vanilla ice cream bar with chocolate fudge in the middle. Nate protested. He assured me that I could find some homemade ice cream in one of the shops in town.
"Yeah, but I don't want homemade ice cream. I want an ice cream bar."
"You're telling me that you would rather have some inferior piece of garbage from Nestle Corporation than fresh homemade ice cream?!"
"Yes, that's what I'm telling you. "
Profound disappointment.

Days later the Coke conversation came up again. I asked Nate why it was ok for Chu to love the iconic Brazilian soft drink but it wasn't ok for me to love the iconic soft drink of America. He blew up. "If we were in the U.S., you could drink Coke until your eyes turned black! But we're in BRAZIL!"
I smiled. It was time for a peace offering.

When I travel, I like to bring at least one book related to travel or travel writing. There is something powerful in reading something that parallels your current existence, and it's a good way to frame and affirm your experiences. My travel book for this trip was: A Sense of Place - Great travel writers talk about their craft, lives and inspiration. If you like you the "travel writing" genre, this book is an amazing compilation of interviews with some of the truly great travel writers of our time. I couldn't recommend it enough.

I gave Nate the book and opened it to an interview with Frances Mayes (author of "Under the Tuscan Sun").
That sense of discovery is why I travel. I don't want anything pre-digested to guide me through a place. Remain open, I think, as much as you can. Of course, we always carry our prejudice with us to some extent, but I hate it when people come here and they want Coca-Cola all the time, they bring their candy bars. It's just so bad not to leave everything you can behind and see what's out there that you don't know.
It was too perfect not to share. Me and my Coca-Cola and my ice cream bars. And I call myself a traveler. I'm a disgrace.

As it turns out, Guarana is quite delicious, but would I forsake Coke? No chance.