tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86495385841830250532024-03-13T15:47:17.174-07:00Edible Escapades:Travel, Food, ImpactA journey that includes (in no fixed order) the appreciation of culture through culinary exploration, long- and short-term contact with people and animals, and global discovery via geographical displacement.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04505593557407711749noreply@blogger.comBlogger45125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8649538584183025053.post-2583800034525989042013-10-08T15:23:00.007-07:002013-10-08T15:39:38.869-07:00David's selection of things to eat, drink, see, and do in New Orleans<div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I put together a list for people traveling to New Orleans a couple of years ago, and it's been amended occasionally either after a visit or when I hear news from friends or family about some newly visited spot. I thought I'd take the liberty to share it with you. They're places I like and/or like to send people to. It all depends on what you're going for, how long you'll be there, what you're into, and what you hope to get out of your experience there. There's certainly much more than just this ...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Most of what's below is related to food & drink. I'd also recommend wandering down <a href="http://www.magazinestreet.com/" target="_blank">Magazine Street</a> and ducking into any & all shops, galleries, pubs, & shops that strike your fancy. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I hope you have a great time. Let me know if you hit any of these places. I should probably formalize the list a little better, but it serves its purpose for now. Who knows, maybe I'll come back and edit this post. If you have ANY questions about these places, other places, other ideas, ANYTHING, please let me know! Also, if you have suggestions or recommendations, feel free to add them in the comments.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-d8x9rxTzU8c/UlSJoeIirPI/AAAAAAAANpY/Fl_0dxs_SOQ/s1600/IMG_20130313_202851_125.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-d8x9rxTzU8c/UlSJoeIirPI/AAAAAAAANpY/Fl_0dxs_SOQ/s320/IMG_20130313_202851_125.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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Food & Drink</h2>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Some of these are definitely splurge options, some are less so. If you're looking for something in the French Quarter, places that come to mind are Muriel's, Stella, Broussard's, Galatoire's, Antoine's (but not Pere Antoine's). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">If you're willing to go just a few blocks away, on the uptown side of Canal Street, I might recommend <a href="http://www.restaurantaugust.com/restaurantandbar.html" target="_blank">August</a> for a good splurge venue. It's one of John Besh's restaurants. He is an adored figure in the contemporary culinary scene. It's high end, and a real treat. One of my friends goes there every year for her birthday. I've only been once. And loved it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">With regard to meat in New Orleans...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">You don't like seafood? No problem. We eat EVERYTHING in the Crescent City :-p Try jambalaya. It's normally with rice & chicken. Try red beans & rice. It's usually with smoked sausage. There's also gumbo made with duck (or chicken or turkey) and sausage. No seafood. That's actually the kind I make most often. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We're not really known for our barbecue, exactly. I mean, we have OK barbecue, but there are other parts of the south that are known for BBQ. We do eat a lot of meat, but I wouldn't necessarily say BBQ is a forté of the Big Easy. I'd totally recommend a roast beef or debris po-boy while y'all are there. If he's not averse to lettuce, tomatoes, pickles, and mayo, I'd highly recommend ordering a roast beef po-boy "dressed". Gravy & meat on soft french bread. mmm.... I think I might need to get one when I'm there next (duh!). Those you can get anywhere that has po-boys, pretty much. In other words, I'd try whatever meat dishes, sandwiches, preparations are available at places y'all go without looking explicitly for BBQ.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">There's a place I like called <a href="http://www.cochonrestaurant.com/" target="_blank">Cochon</a>, in the Warehouse district, very close to the <a href="http://www.nationalww2museum.org/" target="_blank">National World War II Museum</a> (a fantastic museum!). It was listed by the local newspaper as one of the <a href="http://www.nola.com/dining-guide/index.ssf/2009/10/cochon_1.html" target="_blank">top 10 N.O. restaurants in 2011</a> (or 2012). It's owned by Donald Link, an awesome local restauranteur who works magic with pig. You could also just go around the corner (literally, about 60 ft away from the front door, there's effectively a side door that takes you in) to Butcher, also owned by Donald Link. They've got sandwiches & such. Worth a visit if you're in the Warehouse district and want something smaller. I went there just to get sausages to bring back to Seattle. I usually stock up when I go home and keep sausage from Louisiana in the freezer here. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I'd also recommend a muffaletta (pronounced along the lines of /muh fuh LAH tuh/) from Central Grocery on Decatur. Two people can split a half and you'll have plenty of food. Or, if you can get a quarter, get a quarter & keep eating your way through the day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">If you happen to go one day to Magazine Street, there's a place called The Rum House that has good food & good service. There's another neighborhood restaurant called <a href="http://www.joeyksrestaurant.com/" target="_blank">Joey K's</a> that's a neighborhood homey restaurant that'd be good for a lunch break. Speaking of neighborhood color, there's <a href="http://katiesinmidcity.com/" target="_blank">Katie's Restaurant & Bar</a> in Mid City.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">You mentioned <a href="http://www.neworleansonline.com/neworleans/nightlife/frenchmenstreet.html" target="_blank">Frenchman Street</a>, I believe (or maybe I did). </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">There's lots of music & bars & restaurants on Frenchman. If you're walking back to your hotel from there at night, do us all a favor and walk on a street with bright street lights.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Food</span></h3>
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Praline Connection</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">If you're looking for food on Frenchman, you might want to check out <a href="http://www.pralineconnection.com/" target="_blank">The Praline Connection</a>. My brother seems to go there whenever he comes in town, especially when he visits his friends that live in Faubourg Marigny. It's soul food, creole, cajun, and delicious.</span></div>
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<b>Port of Call</b><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">(Esplanade Ave, just on the edge of the French Quarter): drink to order: Monsoon (rummy & tropical, IMHO, better than a hurricane from Pat O' Brien's -- but you should go there too!, which is too syrupy and medicinal). Great big BURGERS & baked potatoes. Get a burger. Seriously. Medium Rare. Go for bacon & cheese and/or sauteed mushrooms. Load up the baked potato. Split it with someone you love.</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Drago's</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Either in Fat City in Metairie (the original location) or at the Hilton downtown (newer. never been to the downtown one, but owned by the same local family). Charbroiled oysters there are amazing!!! It's a really good food off the beaten path (the Metairie restaurant).</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Café du Monde</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">at Jackson Square</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Beignets & café au lait (can get very crowded on weekend mornings)</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Vacherie</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Named after a town in Creole country, this <a href="http://vacherierestaurant.com/" target="_blank">Vacherie</a> is on the corner of Toulouse & Dauphine. I haven't been there, but the menu looks pretty darn good. Who knows. This is your lagniappe entry.</span>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Other restaurant/food possibilities</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">You really can't go wrong with any of these. They're listed in no particular order, but the last four are in a different category, as they're all in the French quarter and of a slightly different ilk. Some are a tad more old school New Orleans creole and, IMHO, may be resting on their laurels.</span><br />
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<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Central Grocery 923 Decatur St, in the French Quarter. Go here and get a 1/2 muffaletta (pronounced muh-fuh-LAH-tuh). 1/2 is pretty big, fyi. It's an Italian grocery/deli. The muffaletta is a New Orleans traditional sandwich. Various sliced meats & cheeses, olive salad (think chunky tapenade mixed with other pickled veggies), oil & vinegar, on sesame seed bread that is hard to find anywhere else.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://www.jacquesimoscafe.com/" target="_blank">Jacques-Imo's</a> - LOVE IT. In the Uptown/Riverbend area. Crowded: getting a table can take a while. New Orleans fare like stuffed catfish (catfish sauteed & topped with a sort of crabmeat or crawfish dressing, redfish, mirliton (aka chayote squash in other parts of the US), crawfish, etc.) While you wait for a table, get a drink & walk across the street to the art gallery and check out some work from local artists.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://www.patoisnola.com/" target="_blank">Patois</a> - "classic french food with a local accent"</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://www.restaurantaugust.com/" target="_blank">August</a> - I have deep respect for <a href="http://chefjohnbesh.com/" target="_blank">Chef John Besh</a>, who was born & raised in Southern Louisiana. A couple of friends of mine go here regularly. I would actually recommend checking out <wbr></wbr>and going to any of his restaurants. I think August is probably the most upscale of any of them (as of this writing). Domenica, in The Roosevelt Hotel, is helmed by Chef Alon Shaya: really good, innovative Italian-inspired dishes.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://www.cochonrestaurant.com/" target="_blank">Cochon</a> - Donald Link is a native Louisianian (like John Besh). He's got some phenomenal food there, rooted in the meaty traditions of South Louisiana. There's also a butcher shop/deli next door called Butcher that's got super sandwiches and such that are less expensive than but just as tasty as the fare at Cochon. Another delicious Donald Link restaurant is <a href="http://www.herbsaint.com/" target="_blank">Herbsaint</a>. Went there with my parents in October 2011 & had a wonderful dinner.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://www.gautreausrestaurant.com/" target="_blank">Gautreau's</a> - went there with my parents when I was home in November 2012. It was a bit pricey, rather elegant, and a very memorable experience. It's uptown and probably not very well known by people not from the city.</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">. . . . . . . . . . . . .and classic institutions. All fairly upscale & each with unique merits:</span></div>
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<li><a href="http://www.broussards.com/" style="font-family: inherit;" target="_blank">Broussard's</a></li>
<li><a href="http://www.antoines.com/" style="font-family: inherit;" target="_blank">Antoine's</a></li>
<li><a href="http://www.galatoires.com/" style="font-family: inherit;" target="_blank">Galatoire's</a></li>
<li><a href="http://www.arnauds.com/" style="font-family: inherit;" target="_blank">Arnaud's</a><span style="font-family: inherit;">. The bar, French 75, is a super spot for classic cocktails. The bartender Chris Hannah (if memory serves) is a master. Worth going even just to have a drink at French 75 and wandering through the mini Mardi Gras museum between the bar and the restaurant</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Here are a few places you might consider for breakfast, brunch, or lunch (among a HOST of others!). Lots of places have good brunches. These two are more old school/traditional & are frequented by</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">tourists & locals alike:</span><br />
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<li><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://www.brennansneworleans.com/" target="_blank">Brennan's</a> - an institution</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://www.commanderspalace.com/" target="_blank">Commander's Palace</a> - During the week they have $0.25 martinis & cosmopolitans @ lunch time (yes, really). If you're feeling like a high end lunch, go here. Dinner is probably pretty expensive. Only been for lunch.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://danteskitchen.com/" target="_blank">Dante's Kitchen</a> - a lovely local restaurant (only been there for brunch) with outdoor seating on River Road</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://fathengrill.com/hours-location/fat-hen-grocery/" target="_blank">Fat Hen Grocery</a> - Got eggs creole last time I was there. Hearty, homey. There's a meaty, bbq smoke smell in there that drew me in. Really light & open.</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://www.nola.com/">NOLA.com</a> and especially or <a href="http://www.bestofneworleans.com/">Best of New Orleans</a> should have some news about what's going on. You'll also want to pick up a copy of Gambit weekly to see what's going on, what's hot, what's not.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Drink</span></h3>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Daiquiris</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">There are lots of places that have slushy machines churning up alcohol with many flavors of sweetness. New Orleans Original Daiquiris / Fat Tuesday probably has the largest variety and</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">the largest number of locations; but if they see daiquiri anywhere on a sign, there will probably be at least a few flavors.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">French 75 Bar</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Check out the bar at Arnaud's restaurant. There's a bartender there named Chris Hannah. He's awesome. The cocktails are wonderful, inventive, and powerful. Be fancy. And while you're there, take your drink and go peruse the collection in the small Mardi Gras museum upstairs.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Carousel Bar</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">214 Royal Street @ corner of Iberville inside the Hotel Moteleone, in the French Quarter: sit at the bar, it rotates ... slowly. The revolving <a href="http://hotelmonteleone.com/dining-entertainment/carouselbar/" target="_blank">Carousel Bar</a> has been there since 1949.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Lafitte's Blacksmith Shop</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And you mentioned the candle-lit Lafitte's Blacksmith Shop. Yes. Simply Yes. If you're curious and adventurous and haven't had your fill of sugary & very potent alcoholic frozen beverages, order a frozen voodoo (Everclear & grape ... look out). </span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Pat O'Brien's</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">You must at least stroll through Pat O'Brien's bar(s) at 718 St. Peter St., just a couple of blocks from where you're staying. Have a drink in the piano bar or sit on the patio...or both!</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />Mid City Lanes Rock-N-Bowl</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">4133 S Carrollton Ave THURSDAY NIGHT is usually Zydeco Night. <a href="http://www.rocknbowl.com/">Rock N Bowl</a> is always great fun: bar, dance floor, live music, bowling. who could ask for anything more. I liked the old location better, but that was before Katrina (alas!). Still a lot of fun. Check their calendar online. Cover is probably $10 at the door. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Rock n Bowl is in mid city. If you go to Jacques Imo's in River Bend that night for dinner, for example, then you're pretty close to Mid City Lanes.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Maple Leaf Bar</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://mapleleafbar.com/">Maple Leaf Bar</a> is on Oak Street Uptown/Riverbend area. Live music just about every night. Rebirth Brass band plays there every Tuesday. They've got local music, funk, good stuff, in general... and it's close to Jacques-Imo's (see below).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This is a fantastic option for something close to Jacques Imo's since it's just two doors down. <a href="http://www.rebirthbrassband.com/" target="_blank">Rebirth Brass Band</a> plays there on Tuesday nights when they're in town. You can totally hear them from the street if you don't feel like going in. I don't know what time their set would start, but you could check them out for a bit before or (more likely) after dinner. It's traditional funk(y) brass band music from New Orleans. It's the kind of stuff that gets me movin'.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Tours / Tourism</span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Cemeteries</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Take the Canal St. Streetcar away from the river and go to a cemetery or two, or take it to the N.O. Museum of Art, possibly depending on what rotating exhibits might be there, or just to City Park. During the holidays there's a very nice light display in City Park.</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">New Orleans Historic Voodoo Museum</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Little known but very interesting small <a href="http://www.voodoomuseum.com/">Voodoo Museum</a> at 724 Dumaine St. in the French Quarter. Talking with the proprietor is worth a visit. He's an interesting character himself!</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Old New Orleans Rum</span></b></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">If you're interested in checking out an awesome local distillery one afternoon, <span class="il">call</span> <a href="http://www.oldneworleansrum.com/tour-the-distillery/old-new-orleans-tours/" target="_blank">Old New Orleans Rum / Celebration Distillation</a> (<a href="tel:504-945-9400" target="_blank" value="+15049459400">504-945-<wbr></wbr>9400)</a>. They have a courtesy van that picks you up in the French Quarter if you like and can take you to the distillery & back to your hotel.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">For a little New Orleans history and woowoo...</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://www.bloodymarystours.com/tours.html" target="_blank">Bloody Mary's Tours</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I'm not sure if Mary does all of her tours or if she has people working for/with her. She's a voodoo priestess who led a workshop I attended at the Folk Magic Festival in New Orleans in 2012. Her walking tours are $27/person and the semi-private van tours are around $67/person.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://www.hauntedhistorytours.com/" target="_blank">Haunted History Tours</a> does a lot of volume and consequently has lower rates, it looks like. Their walking tours are $20. I'd be more inclined to go w/ Bloody Mary and get a unique and personal perspective.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Swamp Tours</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I came across these:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://www.cajunprideswamptours.com/airboat_tours.htm" target="_blank">Cajun Pride Swamp Tours</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://www.louisianaswamp.com/html/airboattours.html" target="_blank">Louisiana Swamp Airboat Tours</a></span><br />
<a href="http://www.bigeasystore.com/SWAMP/swamp-airboat.html" target="_blank">Jean Lafitte Swamp Airboat Tour</a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">There's a chance they may end up being operated by the same company. I might just see if your hotel knows anything or can guide you, get you a deal/discount, or something. I unfortunately don't remember the company we used when we went. I do remember that we had a blast. We drove ourselves, which made the price lower. It may seem a bit pricey, but it's a unique experience and a really good time! Keep an eye open for a discount somewhere.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">In Closing</span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Wow. This is a lot (more) to digest than I had originally anticipated. I realize I need to distill this better going forward -- but I'm just getting you as much as I can. Really, I'd love to be there myself to guide you on a customized, guaranteed-to-be-spectacular experience of the city myself.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Hope this helps. Have fun in New Orleans!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Please do let me know if you have any other questions.</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04505593557407711749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8649538584183025053.post-67611778640793179972012-09-28T09:05:00.001-07:002012-09-28T09:05:48.928-07:00early autumn<div><p dir=ltr>man leaves hot yoga<br>
crow eats toblerone in street<br>
greyer skies, damp earth<br>
</p>
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04505593557407711749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8649538584183025053.post-21540446019229572612011-05-17T14:35:00.000-07:002011-05-22T18:33:10.539-07:00Red Beans & Gas<div style="text-align: center;"><i>Fall is nice -</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Just like [red] beans & rice.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>The leaves fall down,</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>All the way to the ground.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>And that's why fall is nice.</i></div><br>
a classic: AABBA<br>
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That may have been a second or third grade poem. Let's hope second. I've come a long way from whichever year that was - emotionally, spiritually, physically, and intellectually (whew). Speaking of coming a long way, recalling that lovely bit of verse I wrote at seven or eight years of age made me want to see if the grammar school I attended had a web presence. Sure enough: <a href="http://www.stbenilde.com/">St. Benilde School</a> is on line. Back in the day, I don't even know that we knew what "on line" (or "online"?!) might have meant.<br>
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</div><div><div>But I digress.<br>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/6/6f/FEMA-3320-EM,_Mississippi_Disaster_Declaration.svg/500px-FEMA-3320-EM,_Mississippi_Disaster_Declaration.svg.png" width="244" style="background-color:white"></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2011_Mississippi_River_floods" target="_new">MS counties declared federal disaster areas</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/6/6a/Morganza-spillway-times.jpg" width="207"></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2011_Mississippi_River_floods" target="_new">Atchafalaya Basin floodwater travel times</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br>
</div><div><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mississippi_River">Gichi-ziibi</a> (or misi-ziibi) continues to grow, crest, surge, and overflow its levees, inundating towns, homes, and people in the Mississippi Delta and southeastern Louisiana. Feeling nostalgic as I often do, especially in times of regional crisis, I decided to make red beans and rice this Monday.</div></div><div><br>
Monday is traditionally red beans and rice day, as pretty much anyone in New Orleans can (hopefully) tell you. In short, the story goes like this:</div><div><div><br>
<ol><li>Sunday your family eats a ham.</li>
<li>Monday is laundry / wash day. While you're slaving away doing the wash, beans simmer away without much fuss in a pot for a few hours, accompanied by hocks and other hunks of ham left over from the day before.</li>
</ol></div><div>... a New Orleanian "set it and forget it" meal.</div><div></div></div><a href="http://blog.edibleescapades.com/2011/05/red-beans-rice-gas.html#more">See the rest »</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04505593557407711749noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8649538584183025053.post-53291687273523075022011-01-18T17:14:00.001-08:002011-01-18T17:31:15.119-08:00Gruel & Unusual Punishment? I think not!<p>The veil of midwinter morning bleakness in the Pacific Northwest is lifted when honey and cardamom make an appearance at breakfast.</p><p>During a much desired and long-awaited trip out of town to my friend Joseph's cabin on Herron Island, amidst talk of travel, art, food, language, etymology, and many other topics that lie outside of the realm of hard sciences, we prepared breakfast. I monitored a half-dozen rashers of Trader Joe's uncured, peppered turkey bacon (<a title="etymology of 'bacon'" href="http://www.etymonline.com/index.php?term=bacon" target="_blank">etymology</a>: Proto Germanic *bakkon "back meat") in a cast iron skillet while Joseph created a masterpiece that, familiar to him, opened my mind and mouth to novel possibilities in alimentary exploration.</p><p>Joseph combined polenta, a small handfull of raw unsalted cashews and pistachios, a generous cluster of raisins, and equal parts of Trader Joe's Original Hemp Drink and water. Stirring the mixture, he perhaps recited an incantation in Greek or Turkish or Persian or some other language spoken in the area surrounding Western civilization's cradle then placed each bowl in the microwave. Within about five minutes, out came a hearty vessel of morning time comfort food.</p><p>Once the fakon (= faux bacon) was crisp, we sat down to a table where glasses of freshly squeezed orange juice and strong just brewed coffee awaited. Joseph brought out a small vial of ground cardamom. Adding a heavy pinch of the sweet, bitter, heavenly aromatic powder to his bowl, he suggested I try the same. I happily swirled in a bit of cardamom, tasted, and thought, "this is like a deconstructed Middle Eastern confection...hmm, maybe I could drizzle in some honey." Either because he read my mind, independently had the same thought, or knew from prior experience that this was a good idea, Joseph was already on his way back to the table with a big jar of honey (that he had meticulously re-liquified---in the sink, on the stove, in the microwave, on the space heater---the day before).</p><p>Honey proved to be the element necessary to bring about <a title="explanation of citrinitas" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Citrinitas" target="_blank">citrinitas</a> in this <a title="cf. Magnum Opus" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Magnum_opus_(alchemy)" target="_blank">alchemical parvum opus</a>: substantial sweet sustenance from ground grains and seeds, nuts, fruit, water, and honey. </p><p>Thanks, Joseph, for the retreat treat.</p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04505593557407711749noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8649538584183025053.post-81493401148142335842010-04-26T07:51:00.001-07:002011-05-22T15:25:21.900-07:00Experimenta!It's going to be hard to explain the feelings I've had since arriving in Brazil. But let me try to start.<br>
<img align="right" alt="maxixe" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464461194902178754" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S9WqgTsNC8I/AAAAAAAAAjQ/XD9udrrA6wA/s320/DSCF6881.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; height: 200px; width: 280px;">It began, without a doubt, when I encountered a first helpful stranger in the São Paulo airport. I didn't speak Portuguese really but understood some & spoke mostly poorly affected Spanish in response to people who spoke to me. This made getting a SIM card a bit difficult. Another complicating factor in this endeavor was the fact that I, being a foreigner, am not a bearer of the all important CPF, a sort of citizen tracking number that is requested or required for many purchases (from online bus ticket purchases - ouch! - to SIM cards and more!). This guy in the store spoke on the phone with people from the carrier, then ended up just starting over with another carrier and getting a pre-paid SIM for me as if it was for him. This is apparently common practice, and it allowed me to procure yet another phone number.<br>
<a href="http://blog.edibleescapades.com/2010/04/experimenta.html#more">See the rest »</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04505593557407711749noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8649538584183025053.post-24224562808941670572010-04-25T15:37:00.000-07:002010-04-25T16:52:45.346-07:00Greetings, Readership!<img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 199px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S9TKtZUE6fI/AAAAAAAAAio/y3bY25RpbMQ/s320/DSC06124.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464215129145272818" /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">On</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">the</span> bus to Salvador <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">from</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Maceió</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">between</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">watching</span> <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0327597/"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Coraline</span></a> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">and</span> <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0385307/"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Miss</span> Simpática 2</a>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">and</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">then</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">after</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">the</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">latter</span>, I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">had</span> some <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">thoughts</span>. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Why</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">have</span> I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">not</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">been</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">writing</span> more? <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">Why</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">have</span> I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">not</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">been</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">posting</span> more?<div><br /></div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">Very</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">recently</span> I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">experienced</span> a major <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29">breakthrough</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30">and</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31">had</span> a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32">minor</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33">flood</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34">of</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35">revelations</span>. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36">Those</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37">may</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38">be</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39">revealed</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40">externally</span> as <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41">time</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42">goes</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43">by</span>. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_44">Suffice</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_45">it</span> to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_46">say</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_47">that</span> I'm <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_48">cautiously</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_49">optimistic</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_50">about</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_51">the</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_52">future</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_53">at</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_54">present</span>.</div><div><br /></div><div><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S9TMgTQX2DI/AAAAAAAAAiw/8v3A74VeUWA/s320/IMGP0466.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464217103204079666" /></div><div>...<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_55">so</span>... <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_56">WELCOME</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_57">BACK</span>! <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_58">It</span>'s <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_59">certainly</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_60">not</span> for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_61">want</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_62">of</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_63">thought</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_64">that</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_65">there</span>'<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_66">ve</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_67">been</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_68">relatively</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_69">few</span> -- <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_70">er</span> -- <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_71">practically</span> no <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_72">posts</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_73">over</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_74">the</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_75">past</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_76">few</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_77">months</span>. I'<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_78">ve</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_79">been</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_80">traveling</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_81">and</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_82">experiencing</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_83">and</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_84">encountering</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_85">and</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_86">eating</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_87">but</span> n<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_88">ot</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_89">necessarily</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_90">recording</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_91">ideas</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_92">or</span> memories <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_93">like</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_94">one</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_95">may</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_96">have</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_97">wanted</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_98">or</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_99">expected</span>. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_100">Moreover</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_101">it</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_102">seemed</span> to me <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_103">that</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_104">much</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_105">of</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_106">my</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_107">record</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_108">of</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_109">travels</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_110">in</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_111">Perú</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_112">was</span> too <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_113">much</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_114">of</span> a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_115">journal</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_116">or</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_117">even</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_118">itinerary</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_119">or</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_120">timeline</span>. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_121">Or</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_122">was</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_123">it</span>?! <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_124">At</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_125">any</span> rate, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_126">there</span> are <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_127">posts</span> to come, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_128">in</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_129">various</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_130">flavors</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_131">and</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_132">from</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_133">various</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_134">locations</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_135">around</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_136">South</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_137">America</span>. Some <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_138">readers</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_139">will</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_140">like</span> some <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_141">styles</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_142">of</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_143">writing</span>/<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_144">content</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_145">while</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_146">others</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_147">of</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_148">the</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_149">faithful</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_150">will</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_151">like</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_152">others</span>. Natural, não é?</div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_153">Ya</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_154">can</span>'t <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_155">always</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_156">please</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_157">everyone</span>. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_158">Am</span> I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_159">just</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_160">learning</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_161">this</span>? No. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_162">Am</span> I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_163">just</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_164">now</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_165">putting</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_166">this</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_167">into</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_168">practice</span>? <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_169">Trying</span> to.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_170">Acceptance</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_171">people</span>. <i><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_172">Acceptance</span></i> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_173">was</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_174">the</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_175">word</span> I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_176">chose</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_177">when</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_178">my</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_179">friend</span> Lisa <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_180">asked</span> me a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_181">month</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_182">ago</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_183">what</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_184">word</span> I'd <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_185">want</span> to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_186">be</span> mine for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_187">the</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_188">next</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_189">year</span>. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_190">What</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_191">would</span> I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_192">like</span> to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_193">work</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_194">on</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_195">or</span> realize <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_196">in</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_197">my</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_198">life</span> for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_199">the</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_200">next</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_201">year</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_202">in</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_203">one</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_204">word</span>. <i><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_205">Acceptance</span></i>. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_206">Acceptance</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_207">of</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_208">myself</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_209">shortcomings</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_210">gifts</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_211">skills</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_212">all</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_213">of</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_214">it</span>. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_215">And</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_216">also</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_217">acceptance</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_218">of</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_219">other</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_220">people</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_221">with</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_222">all</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_223">of</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_224">their</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_225">character</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_226">traits</span>. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_227">This</span> is <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_228">not</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_229">the</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_230">same</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_231">kind</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_232">of</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_233">Acceptance</span> I'<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_234">ve</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_235">wanted</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_236">in</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_237">the</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_238">past</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_239">which</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_240">was</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_241">Acceptance</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_242">BY</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_243">others</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_244">OF</span> me. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_245">My</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_246">worth</span> is <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_247">not</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_248">determined</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_249">by</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_250">whether</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_251">other</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_252">people</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_253">like</span> me <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_254">or</span> n<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_255">ot</span>. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_256">Lots</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_257">of</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_258">people</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_259">like</span> me. I'm <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_260">happy</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_261">about</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_262">this</span>. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_263">If</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_264">however</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_265">someone</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_266">somewhere</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_267">along</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_268">the</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_269">way</span> decides <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_270">he</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_271">or</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_272">she</span> does <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_273">not</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_274">like</span> me for some <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_275">reason</span>, I'm <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_276">just</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_277">gonna</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_278">have</span> to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_279">be</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_280">ok</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_281">with</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_282">that</span>.</div><div><br /></div><div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 280px; height: 178px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S9TSITedSgI/AAAAAAAAAjI/QCg-MkJ9o7E/s320/IMGP0556.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464223288016062978" /></div><div>No blog <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_283">posts</span> for a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_284">while</span>. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_285">Have</span> I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_286">disappointed</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_287">people</span>?</div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_288">Perhaps</span>.</div><div><br /></div><div>Is <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_289">there</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_290">anything</span> I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_291">can</span> do <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_292">about</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_293">their</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_294">disappointment</span>?</div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_295">Not</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_296">really</span>.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_297">Would</span> I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_298">have</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_299">been</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_300">ok</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_301">with</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_302">this</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_303">in</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_304">the</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_305">past</span>? </div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_306">Not</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_307">really</span>. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_308">Am</span> I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_309">now</span>?</div><div>I'd <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_310">have</span> to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_311">say</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_312">yes</span>.</div><div><br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04505593557407711749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8649538584183025053.post-88221498923051517012010-03-15T14:06:00.000-07:002011-04-25T16:09:22.713-07:00Coopes<div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471577205555173746" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S-7yepI9mXI/AAAAAAAAAlE/p1VN0DTHZtE/s320/DSCF7188-coopes.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; height: 240px; width: 320px;" /></div><br />
<img align="right" alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471577187875321778" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S-7ydnRwd7I/AAAAAAAAAks/8hYbB_VLAfc/s320/DSCF7104-cleaning.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; height: 240px; width: 160px;" />Without a doubt, my favorite aspect of the time I spent in Capim Grosso was getting to work from time to time at Coopes, a cooperative of about 150 farms in the region around CG, in interior Bahia. My primary activity there involved the processing of licuri (pronounced /li ku 'ri/). Processing, here, means anything from cutting raw licuri and removing bichinhos, to squeezing oil from toasted & blended licuri using a specially made machine, to adding pinga to a big bucket of the fruit to make liquor de licuri.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471577196389985458" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S-7yeG_z7LI/AAAAAAAAAk0/zuWNS3Dfwbw/s320/DSCF7337-pitu.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; height: 180px; width: 260px;" /></div><br />
<img align="left" alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471577199976899650" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S-7yeUW_5EI/AAAAAAAAAk8/690w-7Ehbo8/s320/DSCF7377-bottle.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; height: 180px; width: 260px;" />In addition to finding the walk to Coopes away from The Association a welcome and relaxing activity, even when it was 35+ degrees outside, I found whatever potentially repetitive activity I might do for a couple of hours once arriving to be therapeutic. Moreover, the president of Coopes is an entertaining and delightful businesswoman. Oxalá I can and will somehow play a part in getting licuri introduced into the US in at least some of its forms: licuri flour, toasted licuri as a snack, licuri butter (cf peanut butter - YUM!), licuri liqueur, and licuri oil, of course! The uses and nutricional benefits are many.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471577213027830114" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S-7yfE-lSWI/AAAAAAAAAlM/BJm1ovjjWfc/s320/DSCF7101-natural.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; height: 240px; width: 320px;" /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04505593557407711749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8649538584183025053.post-82826984792082739692010-01-16T12:01:00.000-08:002010-05-10T11:24:16.912-07:00¡Ecuatorianamente Refrescante!<p>Besides the $10 rip-off taxi ride from the airport that should have been about $4, it was really really nice to arrive in Quito. Especially coming from Lima! The air was clean and the sky was clear and blue.</p><br /><p>I was going to visit Dr. Gustavo Lovato, a friend of mine from AGES ago at the University of Alabama who is now the director of the <a href="http://www.casadelamusica.ec">Casa de la Música</a> in Quito. I would say the last time we saw each other was probably May of 1997. The staff in his office knew I was coming and greeted me with great hospitality. The first afternoon I was there I sat in on some auditions. There was a man playing guitar and harmonica or singing pasillos and there was an Ecuadorian girl studing in Chile who had the most beautiful voice. The operation seems like an excellent venue for musicians to promote both Ecuadorian and European music.</p><br /><p>Although I no longer remember the name of the place we had dinner that first night, I know it was in the old part of Quito and has outdoor seating and live music on the roof. This was one of those meeting of several worlds and several times dinners. Gustavo and his wife Nancy (who I hadn’t previously met) were going with me to have dinner with two friends from Seattle, Phil and Jeff, who were wrapping up a few weeks in Quito. I love reunions of this sort, where you meet people you know from one context in an entirely different one. This was somewhat reminiscent of coincidentally being in Tokyo a few years ago at the same time as my friend Yvette (also from U of Alabama days) for an early morning fish market stroll and sushi for breakfast.</p><br /><p>The señora del desayuno never disappointed: my breakfasts at Gustavo & Nancy’s were delicious. There was a lovely plate of fresh fruit, fresh juice, and tea. It was in Ecuador where I started to understand the importance of the blender, which I suppose I instinctively was aware of already, given my family’s “beach and blender” nature.</p><br /><p>I had an opportunity to go with Gustavo to the Universidad de los Hemisférios where he teaches. And I even got to sing. Being with Gustavo and thrown into the world of music and musicians reminded me of a world I love and miss, reiterating the importance of music in my life.</p><br /><p>Gustavo and Nancy have two polite and apparently well-raised adults. Their 19-year-old son Estéfano, also a musician, offered to show me around. We went up the teleferiQo toward Rucu Pichincha (but not to the crater, since it was getting late and cold). We shared a combi with three Argentinian college girls to La Ronda in the center of the old part of the city and strolled around. There are so many churches to see. They’ll pretty much all have to wait for my next visit to Quito. Estéfano and I sat in the Plaza del Teatro (@ Teatro Sucre) and had a beer and empanada de viento. After getting back home, Gustavo, Nancy, Blanquito (super loving dog they adopted), and I had wine and tostados (toasted corn) and other snacks. Well, I guess Blanquito didn’t really partake.</p><br /><p>After a breakfast that was fruit-rich and included “algún huevito”, the four of us left for Otavalo, where there is an incredible textiles market every Saturday at the Plaza de Ponchos. Our journey included travel by foot, taxi, then my first experience on a public bus in South America. It was pretty crowded, but I imagine it could be much more so.</p><br /><p>We went first to have lunch in Cotacachi then moved on to the beautiful Lake Cuicocha for a while before hitchhiking (got in back of pickup truck) to head down to small town near Otavalo, where we got on the bus to Otavalo. The Plaza de Ponchos Saturday market was awesome! I did buy some stuff but definitely wanted more. Without a doubt, I would certainly go back there. Although I intended to make gumbo or jambalaya for dinner, we got back to Quito too late to go get stuff and make labor-intensive southern louisiana dish.</p><br /><p>Fortunately we weren’t famished because, en route back to Quito, we had bought and consumed some biscoch[oe] de Cayambé from a vendor who came onto the bus. Since I was off the hook for dinner, la Señora de la Merienda/Cena made hamburguesitas w/ mashed potatoes, salad, and jello. Just like that. It was my last night there that I finally got an opportunity to meet Gustavo & Nancy’s lovely daughter Valentina and seven-year-old granddaughter Ashy. Ashy was adorable! After we ate, Gustavo sat down with her to teach her about chess. Meanwhile, I squished stuff into bags and eventually went to sleep so I could be ready for my travels to Galápagos very early the following morning.</p><br /><br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04505593557407711749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8649538584183025053.post-61359993292994395282010-01-10T14:32:00.000-08:002010-02-18T15:58:58.717-08:00Cu[zs]co, formerly pronounced /kOsko/One way to get to Cusco is by tour bus that makes five or six stops along the way. This is the way that we got to Cusco. In total there were seven passengers, our guide Marcos, and our driver aboard a full-sized bus. Besides the four of us, there were three women from Bahia. By the end of the trip I found this out and was speaking with one of them, Solange, a fair bit in Portanhol. It was during this trip that I realized I had a lot more practicing to do before getting comfortable spouting out what I thought to be Portuguese sentences.<br /><br />Along our journey we made stops at Pukara (Red Fort), perhaps the town most associated with the creation of twin toritos that peopel put on their roofs to guard their houses. In Pukara I also learned about the chacana, or cruz andina / andean cross, and Hatunyaca, or the Great Decapitator. Importantly, it was here that I first learned about the condor, puma, and snake, and their respective associations with the world above, this world, and the world below.<br /><br />We also stopped for a photo op at the highest point along our route from Puno to Cusco: La Raya.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S33Th3DPGyI/AAAAAAAAAhY/RTYkiMag-50/s1600-h/DSCF4901.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 270px; height: 190px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S33Th3DPGyI/AAAAAAAAAhY/RTYkiMag-50/s320/DSCF4901.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439736503600093986" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S33ThTEiabI/AAAAAAAAAhQ/-VMrgNKkNqs/s1600-h/DSCF4919.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 190px; height: 270px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S33ThTEiabI/AAAAAAAAAhQ/-VMrgNKkNqs/s320/DSCF4919.jpg" alt="David and Camelid" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439736493941877170" border="0" align="left" /></a>Continuing on, we stopped to check out exemplars of suri alpacas (short hair), huacayo alpacas (long hair), and llamas (longer hair & look much more like horses in facial features). This tourist stop did not have any vicuñas living there. These animals are much more rare and have very expensive wool. As M, J, S, and I are standing around posing with alpacas and llama and eventually guinea pigs (cuy) in the “Andean Kitchen”, I noticed that the llama seemed a bit more agitated or agitatable than the alpacas. Before long, I’m either petting it or feeding it grass and it tries to start eating my shirt. Note to self: tuck shirt in next time around a llama.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S33NffPz99I/AAAAAAAAAgQ/EcHL-ZfjKxc/s1600-h/DSCF4907.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S33NffPz99I/AAAAAAAAAgQ/EcHL-ZfjKxc/s320/DSCF4907.jpg" alt="flute band" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439729865780885458" border="0" align="right" /></a>At lunchtime we stopped in Sicuani for a tasty and filling touristic buffet. There was an Andean band whose music I bought on CD if only because it was inexpensive and may serve as background for a slide show one day. Really they were no better or worse than any of the ones we see at malls or on street corners around the US (and the world, for that matter). Maybe I’ll try to blend in as an Andean musician as a filler job when I get back to the US.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S33NfmRkeyI/AAAAAAAAAgY/AWv3TBksXR8/s1600-h/DSCF4947.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S33NfmRkeyI/AAAAAAAAAgY/AWv3TBksXR8/s320/DSCF4947.jpg" alt="Raqchi" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439729867667307298" border="0" align="left" /></a>At Raqchi we had a brief stroll around a fairly in tact Inca citadel. Our stop in Andahuaylillas gave us an opportunity to see The Sistene Chapel of the Americas, rightly known as the church of St. Peter the Apostle, and old Jesuit church that still has a functioning pipe organ from the 1700s. Inside this beautiful church, one is not supposed to take pictures or videos. However, Matt sneakily filmed darkness as someone seemed to be warming up or tuning the agèd organ. I haven’t checked yet to see if the sound came out, but it was pretty cool to hear the old instrument wheeze into action.<br /><br />Of linguistic interest, our Peruvian guide Marcos on the bus used vuestros/vuestras several times. My cuiosity was piqued regarding the use of this form in South America. Maybe it’s common and I’m just too long out of Spanish Linguistics classes to remember.<br /><br />Upon arriving at Hotel San Blas in Cusco in the afternoon, we discussed the plans for the next few days with Cecilia, our travel/tour agent, and got recommendations for dinner, drinks, etc. She mentioned her friend Barbi owns a restaurant/bar called Bullfrog’s, which she pointed out to us en route to the hotel. M, S, and J went on a reconnaissance mission to make plans for the night, etc. They met Barbi and decided we’d go there for dinner, so we did.<br /><br />Our waiter made excuses every time he came to the table about why things were - i.e. he was - slow. His friend works there, he’s just filling in for her and has never waited tables before, etc. Eventually we got our drinks. I decided it would be caipirinha night, as I have on several occasions, purposefully foreshadowing the Brazilian leg of this journey.<br /><br />Once our order for food had finally been taken and our lengthy wait (with interim drink) was over, I found before me one of the most curious and scrumptious meals to date in Peru: steamed trout wrapped around black quinoa with parmesan and spinach (I believe) served over a bed of ginger sweet potatoes.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S33Nf2DNGuI/AAAAAAAAAgg/jgiwMuj-9ww/s1600-h/DSCF4979.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S33Nf2DNGuI/AAAAAAAAAgg/jgiwMuj-9ww/s320/DSCF4979.jpg" alt="trout" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439729871902022370" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br />Dinner was followed by a greeting from Barbi and discussion of a potential return to Bullfrog’s later. We went to Fallen Angel, a nicely decorated but quiet (that night) bar/restaurant. Instead of continuing to drink, I went for a refreshing blended honeydew beverage and was quite happy with my choice, especially given the topic that came up shortly after our drinks were brought to us. Jason and I spoke at length about things religious, as did the others until they got bored or turned off by the subject. Maybe the name of the place had a role in inspiring our topic. Carlos, one of the couple who owns Fallen Angel, was talking mostly with Matt & Shawn. Shortly after 6am the next morning, J & I woke up and looked across the long quad-bed room, over two empty beds, at each other. M & S were still out.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S33NgnLnoUI/AAAAAAAAAgw/Ag2wHnumxgQ/s1600-h/DSCF5060.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S33NgnLnoUI/AAAAAAAAAgw/Ag2wHnumxgQ/s320/DSCF5060.jpg" alt="cathedral" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439729885090652482" border="0" align="right" /></a>J & I went for a morning stroll rather than waiting around for our recently returned roommates to awake. Just after leaving a note for Jessica & Lisa, two friends from LUC, we ran into them coming back from breakfast. They gave us a recommendation for a spot called <a href="http://yanapay.facipub.com/">Aldea Yanapay</a>, a restaurant whose proceeds benefit an orphanage and school run by the proprietor (Yuri). After another hour or two M & S met us in the square by the cathedral and we headed to Aldea Yanapay for brunch a while later. Although the food was a tad unimpressive - and this was a function of the section of the menu whence the food was ordered - the colorful setting and presence of lots of toys and games made up for any minor lacunes. How often does one play Jenga at a restaurant, anyway?<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S33NgBWoGYI/AAAAAAAAAgo/dprr_jcYa90/s1600-h/DSCF5024.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S33NgBWoGYI/AAAAAAAAAgo/dprr_jcYa90/s320/DSCF5024.jpg" alt="jenga" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439729874936273282" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S33PKeT6TDI/AAAAAAAAAhI/naTn_9PHupo/s1600-h/DSCF5102.JPG.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S33PKeT6TDI/AAAAAAAAAhI/naTn_9PHupo/s320/DSCF5102.JPG.jpg" alt="colorpackage" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439731703775644722" border="0" align="right" /></a>We left Matt to recuperate from his night out and two weeks of hanging out with constant company and went on a city tour of Cusco in the afternoon to the cathedral, Koricancha, and Sexywoman (Sacsaywaman / Sacsayhuaman). During the tour we were conversing a bit with three Australians (Troy, Ruby, Faren) and ended up inviting them to meet up with us for dinner with Lisa and Jessica at a place called Brava. Jess, suffering from altitude sickness, didn’t make it out. The meat was good, but the rosemary potatoes prompted me to ask the manager, when he said that was their normal taste, “you generally serve burnt food to people?” Of course not. Now that was an offensively silly question, David. I must have been drinking to come off that rude with the manager, but oh well. Good thing we were done eating and ready to walk out the door. Pity he didn't take the burnt potatoes off the bill.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S33PKcHP1yI/AAAAAAAAAhA/tT_toHp_4DM/s1600-h/DSCF5091.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S33PKcHP1yI/AAAAAAAAAhA/tT_toHp_4DM/s320/DSCF5091.jpg" alt="ollantaytambo" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439731703185659682" border="0" align="left" /></a>The Urubamba River flows through what is called the Sacred Valley. The city of Pisac and magnificent site of Ollantaytambo are found here. The archaeological and historical interest of this area is enormous. After spending the day marveling at Inca technology and craftsmanship and perambulating the market in Pisac, we made our way by train to Aguas Calientes, where we thought we had a room reserved. Eventually resolving the fiasco of a missing reservation, we got to bed early and prepared for Machu Picchu.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S33PJ8H_-YI/AAAAAAAAAg4/HZlXIp-wddw/s1600-h/Market+at+Pisac.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S33PJ8H_-YI/AAAAAAAAAg4/HZlXIp-wddw/s320/Market+at+Pisac.jpg" alt="pisac" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439731694598879618" border="0" /></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04505593557407711749noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8649538584183025053.post-54621413250931754742010-01-07T13:38:00.000-08:002010-02-18T14:17:48.920-08:00Two Days of T & ASprang up at the sound of a train passing around 6am. “JEEEZUSS!”<br /><br />After breakfast at the Eco Inn, we stored our big bags and headed off to the lake with an overnight bag. Mmhmm... repacked & departed.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S3233uhMVhI/AAAAAAAAAfA/EyAu_eU55cM/s1600-h/urosislands.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S3233uhMVhI/AAAAAAAAAfA/EyAu_eU55cM/s320/urosislands.jpg" alt="Uros" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439706092941366802" border="0" align="left" /></a>The four of us were taken to the boat, Wayra Cusi, that would carry us around Lake Titicaca for the next 30 hours with our guide Clever & Captain Elias. The first stop, about two hours from Puno, was at one of the Uros Islands (Waliqui), part of a network of floating islands made entirely of totora reeds that grow in the lake. Clever and Hugo, the presidente of the island where we stopped, gave a brief presentation about island life then the tourists were whisked off by one of the five families living on the 90’ stretch of “land” to see their dwelling and ideally purchase one or more items they had made by hand.<br /><br />The highlight of our stop on this Uros island was my encounter with a kitten. I think I had seen about 12 cats in total since arriving in Peru, as compared with the 200 dogs I’m sure I’d seen.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S326YYueScI/AAAAAAAAAfg/pqjngxk36rQ/s1600-h/uroskitty.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 260px; height: 180px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S326YYueScI/AAAAAAAAAfg/pqjngxk36rQ/s320/uroskitty.jpg" alt="Kitty" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439708853050427842" border="0" align="center" /></a><br /></div><br />Maybe if I weren’t predisposed to feelings of guilt, I would have enjoyed the experience more; but as it is, I felt torn about how vaguely exploitative this encounter was until later in the day when speaking with Jason about it. I was led to a slightly different and more positive perspective about the role of the tourist in the life of the Uros Islanders, an Aymara speaking people of Lake Titicaca.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S3234PbWgJI/AAAAAAAAAfI/nPW7969QRSE/s1600-h/amantani-valleader.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S3234PbWgJI/AAAAAAAAAfI/nPW7969QRSE/s320/amantani-valleader.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439706101775237266" border="0" align="left" /></a>Just as a heavy hail storm came in, we cruised on towards Amantaní Island. The Quechua speaking people of this island greeted us warmly, and the passengers of our boat were separated to go with our host families for the night. The four of us were to stay with Sra. Valeria, who, as it turned out, is the wife of our captain. I recognized upon landing that I would probably like this place much more than I had the previous stop. Sra. Valeria led us uphill toward her home. During the walk, S began to feel ill. Altitude sickness had struck. Our host mother started immediately to collect leaves, and S encouraged us to go ahead and leave him there for 10 minutes to try to recover. After showing us our accommodations with very low ceilings, our Sra. Valeria gathered some more leaves from her garden and used them with the ones she had collected to make an infusion for S: ruda, muña, coca, and salvia. This may have been my first sighting of real traditional medicine. We only had coca & muña in our infusions. She also gave S eucalyptus leaves to put under his chullo (alpaca wool hat) which she or her daughter had made. He was sick for pretty much the rest of the day & night.<br /><br />Our lunch consisted of quinoa soup followed by an omelet with rice and potatoes. Very simple, but satisfying with a cup of mate de coca & muña. That afternoon there was a soccer game with the locals, but we opted to go for a short hike up the female mountain on the island instead. At the top there is a temple around which you can walk counter clockwise and make a wish. Various wishes were made.<br /><br />Before descending the wee mountain we had picarones with sugar cane syrup that reminded me of molasses. Really, this was just to give us enough energy to get back home for dinner after a short rest. After a variant on quinoa soup, we had a creamy sauce of potato, carrots, zucchin, and other vegetables over rice. Needless to say, this was followed by a mate de coca.<br /><br />Time to dance!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S3234RtgyPI/AAAAAAAAAfQ/iYTxlMhTh4U/s1600-h/amantani-fiesta.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 270px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S3234RtgyPI/AAAAAAAAAfQ/iYTxlMhTh4U/s320/amantani-fiesta.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439706102388279538" border="0" align="right" /></a>Sra. Valeria and Capitán Elías gave us each a poncho to don with our chullo and then we headed off to the big dance party that was being held in honor of the visitors. A band of andean musicians played a series of long traditional songs, to which we danced in big group circles mostly. A few dances and a beer later, we headed back to Valeria & Elias’ house, even though it seemed Valeria could have “partied” for another hour or so. S had already gone back since he was sick. It was a valiant effort on his part to go out in the first place. Upon arriving at our casa for the night, M, J, and I lay out in the field to gaze at the second most impressive night sky I had ever seen (first was in Namibia a couple of days after arriving at Harnas).<br /><br />Our breakfast the next morning was two light, thin pancakes that were not quite crepes. These we had with either sugar or jam. Obviously, we had mate de coca & muña to drink. We said our goodbyes to Valeria and set sail for Taquile Island, where supposedly it is the men who knit.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S3234xE8CqI/AAAAAAAAAfY/WhfR2rvvVCU/s1600-h/taquile-directions.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 204px; height: 280px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S3234xE8CqI/AAAAAAAAAfY/WhfR2rvvVCU/s320/taquile-directions.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439706110808033954" border="0" align="right" /></a>The visit to Taquile was relatively uneventful. We were to stroll uphill to the Plaza de Armas, hang out for a while and optionally look at artesanías, then have a fixed touristic lunch. The vistas were indeed pretty, and lunch was tasty enough: pancitos with encebollado, sopa de quinoa, trucha a la plancha with rice and potatoes, and a maté de coca and muña.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S326YyPsb8I/AAAAAAAAAfo/3H8MvNJDQ_w/s1600-h/taquile-hoopnbottle.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S326YyPsb8I/AAAAAAAAAfo/3H8MvNJDQ_w/s320/taquile-hoopnbottle.jpg" alt="Taquile child playing" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439708859900653506" border="0" /></a><br /><br />During the three hour boat ride back to Puno, I stayed mostly on the top deck to get some sun and recharge. Jason & I had our second longish conversation up top. We arrived back to the Eco Inn to clean up before venturing out for dinner at Don Giorgia, which had been recommended to us the day before.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S3233QnZ9TI/AAAAAAAAAe4/E06DeSlBrmM/s1600-h/puno-dinner.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S3233QnZ9TI/AAAAAAAAAe4/E06DeSlBrmM/s320/puno-dinner.jpg" alt="Puno dinner" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439706084914361650" border="0" align="left" /></a>This was one of our better dinners as a group. Complimentary pisco sours to start may have influenced this perception. We started off sharing lomito de alpaca (small pieces of loin of alpaca) which were coated with a yellow fine grain and served with rectangular cheese pillows rolled in quinoa cereal. My main was cancacho andino with oca and potatoes. Everyone seemed happy. The bottle of wine (a Peruvian Tannat) we shared may have also contributed to our opinion of the general quality of the meal where the pisco sour left off. Not surprisingly, I ordered a coffee, which ended up appearing on the bill, while the other three in my party got complimentary coffees identical to the one I ordered. For dessert, we shared a wine-poached pear with sabayonne.<br /><br />The following morning we were off to Cusco. Ready, get set, go!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04505593557407711749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8649538584183025053.post-83705640492553720132010-01-04T12:48:00.000-08:002010-02-18T14:27:53.799-08:00A Rapid Quick Peak at Arequipa<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S329o3q1WzI/AAAAAAAAAgI/pZXmBTUy3nE/s1600-h/stacatalina-orange.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S329o3q1WzI/AAAAAAAAAgI/pZXmBTUy3nE/s320/stacatalina-orange.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439712434769451826" border="0" align="right" /></a>In the morning we arrived at Arequipa, having had opportunities to sleep, eat, and watch a movie or two en route from Ica to Arequipa. Most likely due to fatigue from the bus ride and a lack of quality sleep, we chilled at the hotel for a couple of hours in the morning before venturing out into Arequipa. During said chill time, I had already gone out to go get my ticket from Cusco to Lima at the LAN office, noticing on the walk that it seemed a bit more difficult to walk around. Had we gained altitude, or was I just exhausted? Once everyone was ready, we went to the Cathedral then stopped for the apparently requisite late morning Pisco Sours M & S would have. All things considered, and with hindsight to help, we should have stopped for lunch then but forged ahead anyway, largely perhaps because I wanted to get to see the Monasterio de Santa Catalina. This is a Dominican convent from the 1600s where initially the novices were living in comparative luxury, complete with servants, china, and fine linens. Since these were typically the second daughters of rich families, the wealth of the family dictated the comfort of the girls. Eventually the vatican and a strict mother superior changed all of this, but the result is that a beautiful city within a city was created in the middle of Arequipa.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S329n7tkm3I/AAAAAAAAAfw/KPrGrJFPATA/s1600-h/stacatalina-nun.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 280px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S329n7tkm3I/AAAAAAAAAfw/KPrGrJFPATA/s320/stacatalina-nun.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439712418674809714" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S329oAq5KXI/AAAAAAAAAf4/hDTnzjIICGA/s1600-h/chicha-pulpo.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S329oAq5KXI/AAAAAAAAAf4/hDTnzjIICGA/s320/chicha-pulpo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439712420005751154" border="0" align="left" /></a>Our late lunch was held at Chicha, part of the Gaston empire of restaurants, in the Casona de Sta Catalina. Given the tardy start to lunch, cocktails were only reasonable. If only I could remember what I had! It was a fruity delicious thirst quencher. After sharing a piqueo de mariscos, I had anticuchines de pulpo over toasted querelles of mashed yellow potatoes. M had a pastel de choclo de maís, a sort of corn quiche/casserole with shredded beef inside. J had traditional arequipeño adobo. S had - surprise! - ceviche. It seems he had been having pisco sours and ceviche everywhere he went for the past several days. It would be discussed the following day that he might consider having something other than ceviche for at least one meal, his digestive system issues might be cleared.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S329oQ3hLvI/AAAAAAAAAgA/BnNWZlVsjik/s1600-h/arequipa-nctshirt.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 260px; height: 174px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S329oQ3hLvI/AAAAAAAAAgA/BnNWZlVsjik/s320/arequipa-nctshirt.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439712424353672946" border="0" align="right" /></a>After such a grand almuerzo, we all needed siestas. Eventually around 7 or 8 we managed to work our way back to the streets, obviously with less hunger than would dictate having dinner. I noticed a few places that had queso helado, a traditional arequipeño ice milk. Although I should have just gotten one and said “screw dinner”, I forged ahead not wanting to spoil my appetite. Silly! Eventually we stumbled upon a cheap t-shirt store due to a curiously gangsta mannequin outside and strolled out each a couple of t-shirts richer.<br /><br />By the time we finished a drink or two at a bar with decent lighting and good artwork, it was already close to 11pm and hard to find an open restaurant on a Monday night. There was a cheap Turkish sandwich & light fare place open that J & I were ok with but then got drawn by the others to a place down San Francisco called Mystica that was still open. The menu of the day looked appetizing but seemed like it would be too much. No one was eating there, but no one was really still eating anywhere except for a couple of pizza places. For some reason, the menu of the day was no longer being served, but one could compose it oneself by ordering a la carte. Tant mieux: who needed all of that food anyway! M & I ended up getting one of the mains from the daily menu. By the sound of it, a promising dish: lasaña of rocoto relleno. Rocoto relleno is a traditional Peruvian dish: somewhat spicy pepper stuffed with seafood & cheese. Deconstruct it and turn it into lasagna, layered with one of the 4000 kinds of potatoes the country is known for. Having had this restaurant’s deconstructed version of it, I’d describe it more as frozen seafood that was overcooked and layered with potatoes and peppers.<br /><br />Next morning at 8:30 we had a bus to Puno. Repack & prepare for departure!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04505593557407711749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8649538584183025053.post-27734664073305374452010-01-04T06:32:00.000-08:002010-01-27T06:45:12.997-08:00Along Less Interesting Lines<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S2BPVyiOoEI/AAAAAAAAAdE/H7Nw8gvyzGQ/s1600-h/colibri.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S2BPVyiOoEI/AAAAAAAAAdE/H7Nw8gvyzGQ/s320/colibri.jpg" alt="colibri" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431428386370003010" border="0" align="right" /></a>I can remember hearing about or seeing articles and television programs about the Nazca lines ever since I was little. It was a pretty exciting prospect to fly over them...<br /><br />After hearing some frightening tall tales of bus travel in Peru from Katia, Ericka, and friends, I was a bit trepidatious about jumping on a bus that stops on the highway at night for people who flag it down. Nevertheless, I had to get from Playa Asia to Ica to meet up with Matt, Jason, and Shawn. After a somewhat cramped and toasty three hour ride, I met Matt & co. at Discoteca The Who, where I had one or two Machu Picchus (yes, I managed to have Pisco, even after the events of three days prior) and a bit of dancing and people watching.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S2BPWCNccEI/AAAAAAAAAdM/6deHu1kNGJk/s1600-h/astronaut.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 310px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S2BPWCNccEI/AAAAAAAAAdM/6deHu1kNGJk/s320/astronaut.jpg" alt="astronaut" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431428390577795138" border="0" align="left" /></a>The next morning the four of us headed off by hired car to Nazca, where we were to get on a wee avioneta to fly over the famous Nazca lines. If forced to say so, I’d have to confess that flying over the Nazca lines was not as incredible an experience as I might have liked, considering how into such things I used to be. If you’ve seen a Discovery Channel or National Geographic special about the lines, then you’re good to go. In retrospect, while on the ground you don’t really get an idea of the size of the drawings or even know you might be in the middle of one (if you were allowed to be in the middle of one), from the sky you don’t really get a sense of how big they are, except that they’re visible as identifiable objects. Basically, it’s a problem of perspective. It might have been nice to spend a bit of time that day studying the history and mystery of the lines and their discovery.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S2BPWi6VAHI/AAAAAAAAAdU/l4KXllynbXY/s1600-h/papagallo.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S2BPWi6VAHI/AAAAAAAAAdU/l4KXllynbXY/s320/papagallo.jpg" alt="papagallo" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431428399355986034" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S2BPWpRynUI/AAAAAAAAAdc/1MMkw7xeUh4/s1600-h/secodecordero.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S2BPWpRynUI/AAAAAAAAAdc/1MMkw7xeUh4/s320/secodecordero.jpg" alt="seco" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431428401065008450" border="0" align="right" /></a>On the way back to Ica, we stopped for lunch and a vineyard/pisquería tour at Tres Generaciones vineyard & distillery, which is also the home of La Olla de Juanita. YUM! Ordered chicharrón, ensalada de pallares, encebollado, seco de cordero with morusa de pallares. We tasted about three different qualities/types of pisco before two gave up and headed back to the table to see if our order was ready. Here we also had for the first time tuna: no, not the fishy, sashimi grade or hockey-puck dry cooked fish or squishy canned stuff - the prickly pear kind that makes a tasty juice. We headed back to Ica, to Matt’s cousin’s apartment, with Taxioke (or Carioke) en route. Our bus for Arequipa was to leave at 8:30. Gentlemen, please repack and prepare for departure!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04505593557407711749noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8649538584183025053.post-47287082590512563312010-01-03T18:15:00.000-08:002010-01-27T06:24:13.527-08:00How ever did I make it to Asia?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S1UrnHIxdnI/AAAAAAAAAc8/36MZM49HlvQ/s1600-h/rainforestnativity.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S1UrnHIxdnI/AAAAAAAAAc8/36MZM49HlvQ/s320/rainforestnativity.jpg" alt="rainforest" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428292876795737714" border="0" align="left" /></a>While I wished all of the LUC gang, the Sotho, and the Peruvians in SFA a very happy New Year, I was content to be taking a break from the the cold water of our port-o-potty-sized showers and ubiquity of sand there. Hector dropped Christine and me off in Lima, where she and I repeated the LUCOF tour from two Saturdays prior but at a slightly slower pace. We also added into the tour a stop by the Nativity Scene a la Rainforest Cafe visit at Nuestra Señora de la Merced church.<br /><br />Once Hector got Keith from the airport later in the afternoon, he met up with us and the four of us went for a drink in Miraflores. To make a long story short, I left the table about 1.5 pisco sours into the night and didn’t ever make it back. Someone eventually found me, and Keith started feeding me pepto bismol. I don’t recall ever consuming 10 pepto bismol chewable tablets to alleviate this sort of problem, but I was in no state to argue effectively. I was pretty much carried to Hector’s car and taken to Ericka’s house at Playa Asia, not without an incident or two along the way, apparently. Poor Hector!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S1UpjpnmNgI/AAAAAAAAAcM/vGy0prQ3TZ8/s1600-h/hammock.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S1UpjpnmNgI/AAAAAAAAAcM/vGy0prQ3TZ8/s320/hammock.jpg" alt="hammock" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428290618309096962" border="0" align="right" /></a>That night I slept for a couple of hours curled up in a ball propped up against the wall in the shower. Not exactly comfortable, but definitely comforting! I woke up on 31 December 2009 feeling not entirely horrible. After relaxing in the hammock for a while, I slowly made my way with the others off to The Boulevard mall complex for some shopping. Did I need a new bathing suit? Really? Obviously!<br /><br /><br />For lunch that day back at the beach house, I tried my first Peruvian causa. Yellow potato stuffed with ingredients. In this case, one with octopus, one with langostino, and one with crabmeat.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S1UpjcXYdJI/AAAAAAAAAcE/b1pES5IqZmI/s1600-h/causa.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 118px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S1UpjcXYdJI/AAAAAAAAAcE/b1pES5IqZmI/s320/causa.jpg" alt="causa" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428290614751425682" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S1UpkJx1EUI/AAAAAAAAAcU/F1EUxqSd4z8/s1600-h/prefunk2.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S1UpkJx1EUI/AAAAAAAAAcU/F1EUxqSd4z8/s320/prefunk2.jpg" alt="jumping" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428290626941948226" border="0" align="right" /></a>Around 5:30 or 6 the buzz of decorating the house for the pre-party started. I realized I probably wasn’t going to actually get a disco nap in before New Year’s Eve festivities began. Decoration included creating floating candles for the soaking pool all’improviso out of used plastic water bottles. The result of our [or mostly Keith’s] efforts was glorious! Several of Ericka’s friends came over for snacks and drinks before we were to head to the clubhouse party after midnight. 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, Happy New Year! Time for grapes & wishes: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12. A few calls were exchanged between the US & Peru at this point. Of course, Mike called right at Midnight Peru time, thoughtful chap that he is. Of course, my parents called right after, loving padres that they are.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S1UpkVLSMYI/AAAAAAAAAcc/dkNlI37AZgY/s1600-h/funk1.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S1UpkVLSMYI/AAAAAAAAAcc/dkNlI37AZgY/s320/funk1.jpg" alt="clubparty" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428290630001504642" border="0" align="left" /></a>The party that we walked to at the beach club after leaving Ericka’s reminded me so much of the Endymion Extravaganza. There was finger food, booze, good people, and groovy music (from Abba to merengue to R&B to cumbia to mambo to reggaeton) from 12:30 til 6:30. Around 4:30 or so the aguadito de pollo (a.k.a. levanta muertos) so we could make it another 2+ hours.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S1Upkj_iTQI/AAAAAAAAAck/XQdvEkStzAQ/s1600-h/postfunk1.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 180px; height: 260px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S1Upkj_iTQI/AAAAAAAAAck/XQdvEkStzAQ/s320/postfunk1.jpg" alt="luckycharms" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428290633978760450" border="0" align="right" /></a>There exists a New Year’s tradition of running into the ocean, possibly wearing clothes you were partying all night in. Our modified version involved stopping at the house on the walk to the beach and changing. In we went! Shortly after what would otherwise be an invigorating dip, people collapsed into various sleeping spots. I took the hammock!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S1UqH26G0zI/AAAAAAAAAcs/XJCIdt4qBG4/s1600-h/maracuyacoladas.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 220px; height: 140px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S1UqH26G0zI/AAAAAAAAAcs/XJCIdt4qBG4/s320/maracuyacoladas.jpg" alt="colada" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428291240351683378" border="0" align="left" /></a>After two hours of sleep, I changed into my new bathing suit to take advantage of the sun. Pretty much the entire day was spent lounging in the glare until the task fell upon me to do what the Rojas family, as beach & blender people, would do well: make improvised piña coladas. There was maracuyá (passion fruit) sorbet in the freezer, so we had maracuyá-piña coladas, ordered lunch from the club, and lounged some more before playing cards that night. There would have been worse ways to spend day 1 of 2010.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S1UqIF38QqI/AAAAAAAAAc0/NMsa41WkY0I/s1600-h/corvinaarrebosado.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S1UqIF38QqI/AAAAAAAAAc0/NMsa41WkY0I/s320/corvinaarrebosado.jpg" alt="arrebosado" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428291244369134242" border="0" align="right" /></a>My last day with Ericka, Shel, and the bunch at Playa Asia was also a good one: Ruben, Ericka, and I went for a jog in the morning, then we crept off to The Boulevard for lunch. I had my first pescado (corvina) arrebosado here: basically, fish fillet enveloped in a thin omelet, obviously served with rice AND potatoes. There was a cosmopolitan toast of despidida then off to Ica by highway-stop bus I went to meet up with some Seattle [+1 CA] boys.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04505593557407711749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8649538584183025053.post-34466327692257252202010-01-02T12:46:00.000-08:002010-01-05T18:34:46.551-08:00Long Overdue Visits<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S0P1xhaeMwI/AAAAAAAAAas/MeYjMLuMRJo/s1600-h/slcathedral.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 280px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S0P1xhaeMwI/AAAAAAAAAas/MeYjMLuMRJo/s320/slcathedral.jpg" alt="cathedral" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423448607416005378" border="0" align="center" /></a><br /></div>It felt like such a long time since I had been home. The last day in Amman I could only think about how excited I was to be going back to New Orleans to see my family, friends, and an inspriningly loving guy named Mike who would happen to be there for a conference just before Thanksgiving.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S0Px4lmJSNI/AAAAAAAAAaU/l7OTKYQ0qxo/s1600-h/dadbday.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S0Px4lmJSNI/AAAAAAAAAaU/l7OTKYQ0qxo/s320/dadbday.jpg" alt="family" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423444330751281362" border="0" align="left" /></a>My sister was originally the only person in NOLA who knew I’d be coming in. A couple of weeks prior I decided to give her the ok to tell my brothers in case they could make it in for any of the family celebrations that take place in the last week of November every year. I’m very glad I did. Steve & Rory made it in for the first weekend I was there, to celebrate my Dad’s 75th birthday and Jeff & Susan made it in a few days later to celebrate my parents’ anniversary. It was an incredibly reassuring experience to be so delighted to be in New Orleans again, and I was thrilled to be able to show Mike and his speech pathologist comrades around a bit.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S0Px4eEuRrI/AAAAAAAAAaE/yBhAYKh8duM/s1600-h/ashapeeps.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 186px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S0Px4eEuRrI/AAAAAAAAAaE/yBhAYKh8duM/s320/ashapeeps.jpg" alt="asha" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423444328732051122" border="0" align="center" /></a><br /></div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S0Px4g4Mo1I/AAAAAAAAAaM/yid_KUTL_pU/s1600-h/airboats.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S0Px4g4Mo1I/AAAAAAAAAaM/yid_KUTL_pU/s320/airboats.jpg" alt="airboat" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423444329484821330" border="0" align="right" /></a>Probably the highlight of tourism at home was an airboat trip (Airboat Adventures) on Bayou Barrataria & environs after a very wet morning and a previous day that saw at least one member of the group rallying (where’s my beer?) after about 60 oz of bloody mary from Port of Call. Debbie, Heather, Mike, and I had a blast with our guide named Steve and his little friend Bud cruising around the swamp & marshlands wearing big yellow earphones.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S0Px5K09iwI/AAAAAAAAAak/KL33bWoZ06Y/s1600-h/zoo-whttigers.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S0Px5K09iwI/AAAAAAAAAak/KL33bWoZ06Y/s320/zoo-whttigers.jpg" alt="tigers" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423444340745538306" border="0" align="left" /></a>A very close second was a trip to the Audubon Zoo with Joel and Mike. I was wanting to take Joel to the zoo when I got in town ever since I was still in Africa. Of course, it was unclear how I would react to being at a zoo for the first time after my experiences at Harnas and with African Impact's Lion Rehabilitation project. It was a fantastic day, but I probably would have preferred to stay the night and spend another day there with the animals.<br /><br />The time with out of towners, both friends and family, unfortunately flew by. Thanksgiving came. I think I stayed up all night the night before Thanksgiving (the first of many nuits blanches in which I didn’t do anything but hang out at my parents’ house in the Big Easy) and started preparing food around 7am. The up-side to this was that I was in the kitchen all morning and mostly with no other contributing chefs ... couldn’t imagine a better place to be. Another positive outcome was that we were eating at 3pm and there was none of the typical “when are we eating? it will be Christmas soon” comments. There were two programs on WYES TV on Thanksgiving, which we watched after most of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. They focused on culinary traditions in New Orleans. I was captivated, and my parents ended up pledging to the public television station so that we could get copies of the programs.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S0Px4-XCmxI/AAAAAAAAAac/ePkktiMeEXY/s1600-h/saints-friends.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S0Px4-XCmxI/AAAAAAAAAac/ePkktiMeEXY/s320/saints-friends.jpg" alt="friends" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423444337398815506" border="0" align="left" /></a>I’d have to say that I watched more professional football during the three weeks I was at home than I have in maybe 10 years or more. The Saints were on a roll and it was very hard not to get caught up in it. This presented some great opportunities to spend time with my best long-standing friends from Jesuit and a few chicas that came into the picture later in the game. Whenever I go home it’s a comfort to see them and be comfortable with the familiarity of our friendship. Generally there’s always a rushed feeling to our encounters, but this time I was able to see several of them on different occasions, from pizza and Saints at Robert & Gina’s house to pizza & Saints chez Fong to a tour & tasting session with Joi & Sarah at the Old New Orleans Rum Distillery. By the way, if you tend to order rum drinks and are in a place that you think might have a certain selection of rums, PLEASE ask for Old New Orleans rum by name (Crystal, Amber, Cajun Spice are all quite nice and are available in several cities around the country. I’ve appointed myself ambassador for them, so I’m spreading the word.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S0P1yBTqluI/AAAAAAAAAa0/WiySSR9qBiE/s1600-h/oldnolarum.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S0P1yBTqluI/AAAAAAAAAa0/WiySSR9qBiE/s320/oldnolarum.jpg" alt="rum" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423448615977391842" border="0" align="center" /></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04505593557407711749noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8649538584183025053.post-75752068690468020352009-12-30T15:05:00.000-08:002010-01-27T06:46:26.347-08:00Reaching Out in Ancón (part 1)I bought my ticket for Peru in the beginning of December: not exactly round trip in the narrow sense but maybe in the broad sense of US to South America to US. Arriving around the same time as my friend Matt, he agreed to wait for me in the airport and invited me to stay at his parents’ house for the night. In theory this would help in the timeline of my acquiring a visa to later go to Brazil. If only we had woken up earlier than ten the next day! I got to the consulate about one minute past noon. Of course no one could take my documents since it was lunch time and they only receive visa request from 9:30 to 12:00. Oh well. Went back to Matt’s parents’ house for my first Peruvian meal: pallares y arroz.<br /><br />That evening I met Hector at the airport in Lima, after some time searching for each other, and headed off toward Ancón/Santa Rosa, to the community of San Francisco de Asís. Thus began my stay in Peru.<br /><br />Long days of hard work are punctuated with interactions among rowers & non-rowers, Peruvians & estadounidenses, young & less young. Sometimes there is a successful communication but, more often than not, there seems to be a bit of haze somewhere in the exchange. The people of this community have been incredible. Giving, gracious, welcoming, warm, eager to help, deeply grateful to have us here: these are all ways one could characterize the many wonderful characters of SFA that are working alongside us to create something special for the future of their community.<br /><br />For the weeks I'm working at the <a href="http://www.lucoutreachfoundation.org/">Lake Union Crew Outreach Foundation</a> project in San Francisco de Asís (Ancón) I will probably just pass along content from Rome Ventura, the director of Lake Union Crew and head of the construction project here in Perú:<br /><blockquote><span style="font-weight: bold;">WEEK 1 UPDATE</span><br /><br />Hello Everyone,<br /><br />It's Sunday here and the Week 1 team is halfway through their time here already!<br /><br />I know they are all happy to have missed the process of unloading, passing up the hill and stacking the 4,000 concrete blocks on Monday and Tuesday before they arrived! At 24+ pounds a piece it was quite a process and we are all glad to have it done.<br /><br />Our 7 friends from Lesotho arrived on Thursday evening at 10 pm and frankly looked a bit shell shocked at the airport. They had trouble of some kind at each stop. At the border between Lesotho and South Africa, they were told that it isn't legal to have more than 4 people in a van without a permit....this meant delay, conversation and a bit of cash in order to proceed. (Since they cross that boarder often, this was new, surprising, and probably not even a new law....but hey, whatever it takes....)<br /><br />When they finally got to the airport in Joburg 5 hours later, they were told their flight was full. Catherine and Emmanuel pressed on and they managed to get on the plane. From there they had a transfer ... which went better for them. Only their seats were all over the place, but at least they were on their way.<br /><br />Once Hector and I arrived back at the site with them, they were very happily greeted by our volunteers and several of the locals who stayed up to be the first ones to meet them. Off to crash they went, with an 8 hour time difference, our wake up at 5:15 am was no big deal ;-)<br /><br />Project wise, lots has gotten accomplished with this week's team.<br /><ul><li>We have a painting team led by Keith who is plowing through getting the whole steel building's primer touched up and re-coated as necessary. They've already begun the final coating process at the west end.</li><li>Steve has been leading a small army of people with shovels and wheelbarrows, digging the footing trench for the second terrace.</li><li>Conal has been leading the framing team who has been building the window and door buck-outs and building and setting the footing forms.</li><li>Emily and Lisa have been cutting, bending and tying rebar for the concrete.</li></ul>Yesterday, everyone was drawn into action because we decided to see if we could pour the whole 2nd terrace footing in the half day that we work on Saturdays. We got up an hour earlier and hit it!<br /><ul><li>Steve and Conal set forms,</li><li>Lexi ran the sawyer station,</li><li>Em and Lisa followed with rebar,</li><li>Wayne ran the mixer,</li><li>Colette ran a troupe of local moms who were all over getting the buckets at the mixer station filled with gravel, rough sand, fine sand and cement. (She had them doing stretches while the mixer was spinning!)</li><li>Then came the 'boogie' brigade of wheelbarrows to the bottom of the hill!</li><li>The Lesotho team had experience with this! They would literally chase their wheelbarrow full of concrete down the sandy hill, braking as needed by dragging the legs.</li><li>Not everyone made the turn at the bottom ;-)</li><li>Fuchs had to show off by running back up the hill with his empty wheelbarrow!</li><li>David, who speaks Spanish, organized the group of people who pushed the empty wheelbarrows back up the hill, so the person who ran it down could get a rest.</li><li>Lots of cheering, lots of tired people, 7 hours later....60% of the footing trench was full.</li></ul>We'll finish it on Monday.<br /><br />After the pour, people showered and Ericka organized a van tour of Lima, the catacombs and a few other stops for an evening adventure. Naps on the way home ....<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">WEEK 2 UPDATE</span><br /><br />Hello Everyone,<br /><br />It seems like forever since I've been able to write an update.<br /><br />The holidays have passed and we are in full court press mode as we move toward the finishing weeks of this project.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S00OAOLHQ3I/AAAAAAAAAbU/doVGlNLO7QQ/s1600-h/DSCF4334.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S00OAOLHQ3I/AAAAAAAAAbU/doVGlNLO7QQ/s320/DSCF4334.jpg" alt="pig" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426008523018814322" border="0" align="left" /></a>To back up a bit, we had an awesome whole pig roasted over a pit that Conal set up on Christmas day. It cooked all day long and you should have seen the carving effort! Not exactly your holiday turkey! It was great though. Really tender, done all the way through and Carol rustled up all the fixings to go with it. We had just a few<br />leftovers....<br /><br />That morning our team of USA volunteers poured the first half of the concrete wall of Terrace #2 without any Peruvian volunteers since it was Christmas day, so we were totally beat and ready for the big feast that evening. Really a great atmosphere here. We came to work and that's what we did. Two of the three tines on the mixer even broke off during the pour, so we finished the job with a single paddle in the mixer. Fortunately it held up until we could get them welded back on the next day.<br /><br />Week #2 Volunteers rocked on the big task of the week, which was to get the steel structure of the building fully painted....and they got 'er done! It really looks cool all bright red on the gray hillside.<br /><br />As Week 2 transitioned into Week 3 Volunteers, the roofing team got new members, and we think the roof and the insulation will be done by the time this team leaves, next Wednesday. The big concrete floor pour is scheduled for Friday the 8th, so we'd like to be able to pour it all under the shade of the new roof and slow down the curing under full sun.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S00N-9fNYtI/AAAAAAAAAa8/SMHGgO3_X40/s1600-h/DSCF4269.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S00N-9fNYtI/AAAAAAAAAa8/SMHGgO3_X40/s320/DSCF4269.jpg" alt="bldgblocks" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426008501359829714" border="0" align="left" /></a>The masonry team just finished the 5th course of blocks all around the building, which was the sill level of the windows and the first horizontal bond beam. That means lots of detailed cuts and lots of concrete that had to be mixed, but we got it done and felt very satisfied. Now it gets tricky....less blocks due to the window openings, but everything is now off ladders and scaffolding to hoist the blocks up over the vertical rebar that sticks up.<br /><br />Oh yeah, and the porti-potti company's pumper truck broke down, so we didn't get a 'pick up' for 3 extra days. ....<br /></blockquote>There are official pictures from this project in the <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lucoutreachfoundation1">LUCOF Picasa album</a>.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S00N_LiMP3I/AAAAAAAAAbE/HFQChmQ0FFk/s1600-h/DSCF4379.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S00N_LiMP3I/AAAAAAAAAbE/HFQChmQ0FFk/s320/DSCF4379.jpg" alt="limasquarecow" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426008505130434418" border="0" align="right" /></a>My take on the Old Lima tour Ericka and Hector took us on in Week 1 is that we sped through a few sites and ran through the streets with barely enough time to take pictures or really take in anything. This is no one's fault. We couldn't leave Ancón until the pour was as complete as it was going to get that day, and we had to get to the catacombs before closing time. As there wasn't much time before sunset, we chased each other around a few blocks of Old Lima with Ericka pointing left and right. We headed to Miraflores where we really only had time and energy to eat dinner at Norky's (scrumptious rotisserie chicken - pollo a la brasa). People were mostly passed out on the way back to San Francisco de Asís.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S00QHp3hXFI/AAAAAAAAAbc/m0cgiqxOcVA/s1600-h/DSCF4231.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S00QHp3hXFI/AAAAAAAAAbc/m0cgiqxOcVA/s320/DSCF4231.jpg" alt="limacathedral" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426010849735171154" border="0" align="center" /></a><br /></div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S00N_65OMTI/AAAAAAAAAbM/RFdCLNKToLY/s1600-h/DSCF4314.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S00N_65OMTI/AAAAAAAAAbM/RFdCLNKToLY/s320/DSCF4314.jpg" alt="machado" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426008517843497266" border="0" align="right" /></a>The work in SFA has been very rewarding. Skill transfer among American and Peruvian volunteers has been pretty sweet. From my perspective, one of the best experiences, although lacking a bit since I was doing triple duty that day, was learning how to make Peruvian tamales from Miguel Machado. I've got a recipe and a date with some fellow volunteers to have some when I'm back in Seattle.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S00QH9t_haI/AAAAAAAAAbk/0kndCLFP8FA/s1600-h/DSCF4326.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/S00QH9t_haI/AAAAAAAAAbk/0kndCLFP8FA/s320/DSCF4326.jpg" alt="tamales" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426010855063913890" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br />Another highlight was a bbq at the home of the local chef Sr. Fluker. He made anticuchos de corazón, chorizo, and bife - of course served with choclo peruano (Peruvian corn) and a Peru Libre.<br /><br />Translating between English and Spanish has reinforced my "rusty" Spanish. Of course, locals are typically impressed with my agrammatical language skills. Fortunately or hopefully, I'm not transferring them to the Peruvians! One new ability I've picked up is block setting. I'm no mason, mind you, but I now know more than I did about setting courses of concrete blocks. All in all, the LUCOF project is turning out to be a mutually beneficial and rewarding undertaking. The people of SFA are so grateful for our presence and are working incredibly hard with us to build their community center. I cannot wait for it to be completed!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04505593557407711749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8649538584183025053.post-35187628565890682902009-11-10T23:59:00.000-08:002009-12-08T00:13:43.016-08:00Welcome to Jordan!<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/Sx4KLkpKT9I/AAAAAAAAAZc/U7cGxAuquCs/s1600-h/DSCF3387.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 226px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/Sx4KLkpKT9I/AAAAAAAAAZc/U7cGxAuquCs/s320/DSCF3387.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412774996077072338" border="0" align="center" /></a><br /></div>After paying about $25 (94 NIS) to leave Israel, I walked across the border to the Jordanian passport control station. The gentleman running my bags through the x-ray machine asked, "Where are you from?" I said, "America" (as I've learned it's a more widely understood response where I've been than the otherwise preferred "The States"). This Jordanian border patrol officer gave me the most genuine smile and warmly said, "Welcome to Jordan!" Now, I've since been welcomed to Jordan about 50-70 times, but his smile and demeanor stand out with those of only a few others as being truly truly welcoming. What a terrific first impression of the people of this country!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04505593557407711749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8649538584183025053.post-44301408028023647742009-11-10T22:00:00.000-08:002009-12-08T00:10:27.197-08:00Dov & Dolphins<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/Sw9Oj6MakHI/AAAAAAAAAYs/mR0Ej7K9pcg/s1600/DSCF3380.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: left; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 220px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/Sw9Oj6MakHI/AAAAAAAAAYs/mR0Ej7K9pcg/s320/DSCF3380.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408628056318972018" border="0" align="left" /></a>I planned on flying from Tel Aviv to Eilat, where I would dive with dolphins at a place I had learned about called Dolphin Reef. Rather than departing from the larger Ben Gurion International airport, I got a flight out of the smaller Sde Dov airport, which is closer to where I was staying. Adi dropped me off around 8:15 for my 9:20 flight -- this airport is a one room operation. This should have been fine if security hadn't, for some reason best known to themselves, targeted me as their object of scrutiny in a paranoid Israeli power trip act. They put me through a 35 minute inquisition that involved my recounting my travel itinerary to date to two people independently, showing pictures of Adi in Israel to them on my camera (after I said I had been staying with her during my stay in their lovely country), giving them names of some other Israelis I know, showing them pictures of lions and Israelis in Zimbabwe on my computer, and finally giving them Adi's phone number so they could call to verify our acquaintance.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/Sw9OkLV4EtI/AAAAAAAAAY0/K9F4PtgstrU/s1600/DSCF3381.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 204px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/Sw9OkLV4EtI/AAAAAAAAAY0/K9F4PtgstrU/s320/DSCF3381.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408628060922057426" border="0" align="center" /></a>The guard who was the magister of the inquisition said several times, "Why do you look so nervous? Don't be. You'll get your passport back and make your flight." If that was assuredly the case, why the hell were they going through all of this? I was very calm and collected for about 25 minutes of the process, and then I finally said, "This is incredibly frustrating. I have no idea why you don't believe my story and have kept questioning me about things that seem to largely be private and of no concern to anyone's security." Well, that's what I was thinking (or something very similar). What I said was certainly a much milder version which I uttered pretty calmly and with confidence because I had done ZERO wrong and was finally annoyed with the whole situation. She responded well to this, probably because they knew I was actually telling the truth about everything. Don't they regularly get foreigners coming through here saying hey met people from their country while working with lions in Zimbabwe?! She said they were just going to call Adi as the last part of the process. They did. Fortunately, she wasn't so fed up with me as to say, "David who?"<br /><br /><div>I was on my way after that. In retrospect, I'm wondering if they have some sort of special x-ray scanner that showed them the Palestinian kefiya I got in Jerusalem in my bag. Hmm…</div><br /><div>Upon arriving in Eilat I headed straight for Dolphin Reef. The dolphins there go out at night into the Red Sea but they come back every morning to spend their days around the resort. In addition to the excitement from this being the first dive after my Open Water certification in Knysna, I was mesmerized by the fact that these dolphins were swimming all around me -- that I was truly in their world more than they were in mine, which is the case at an aquarium or a place like Sea World. This event triggered lots of memories from when I was younger and wanted to be a marine biologist studying animal communication. </div><br /><div>One fantastic aspect of Dolphin Reef is their emphasis on non-tactile interaction. The dive master I swam with stressed that under no circumstances should we touch the dolphins during our dive, even if they swim right past us. This is not a petting zoo for t<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/Sw9OkUJdYTI/AAAAAAAAAY8/NqSfSDv9pJ8/s1600/DSCF3371.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: right; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 180px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/Sw9OkUJdYTI/AAAAAAAAAY8/NqSfSDv9pJ8/s320/DSCF3371.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408628063285895474" border="0" align="right" /></a>he guests who come. These are not trained dolphins. There was one scientist who was talking about the dolphins to people. If they dolphins came up to him, he'd rub them for a minute and they'd swim away and maybe come back a while later. My analogy is that these are more like playful cats than the dog-like trained dolphins who jump through hoops or do tail moonwalks on command. Dolphin Reef also has a more new-agey area that offers water relaxation workshops and relaxation experiences in some pools of different temperatures, with audible music below the water. Maybe I'll check those out next time. Being underwater with the dolphins and sitting on the beach for a couple of hours afterwards was relaxing enough for me. In a heartbeat I would dive again with these animals.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04505593557407711749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8649538584183025053.post-32906429409153391252009-11-09T06:00:00.000-08:002009-11-15T07:33:05.779-08:00A Little Judaica, a Little Christianica, and a Little Islamica<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SwAd_vXPbVI/AAAAAAAAAYE/ZYGXrGJfvII/s1600-h/jrslm-wwal-DSCF3035.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 270px; height: 190px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SwAd_vXPbVI/AAAAAAAAAYE/ZYGXrGJfvII/s320/jrslm-wwal-DSCF3035.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404352533727505746" border="0" align="right" /></a>Adi and I booked a tour of the "tunnels" underneath the Western Wall (Kotel) in Jerusalem for 9:20 a.m. At 9:20 a.m. Adi and I are sliha-ing people right and left, running through the streets of Old Jerusalem to get to the Western Wall. No problem. After going through the worthwhile underground tour and saying a prayer at the Western Wall, we set off on a self-guided amble through the Muslim Quarter and the Christian Quarter, stopping along Via Dolorosa a few times, as one should.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SwAYHsDCVjI/AAAAAAAAAXU/RU8z9FSOKc8/s1600-h/jrslm-DSCF3085.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 270px; height: 190px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SwAYHsDCVjI/AAAAAAAAAXU/RU8z9FSOKc8/s320/jrslm-DSCF3085.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404346073206642226" border="0" align="left" /></a>I really just wanted some falafel as a snack for lunch while walking around, to round off the bread and zatar we had. But the Hummus Tour had to continue! We had falafel and a bowl of Jerusalem hummus (mine with foul) each. Must walk off the chick peas!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SwAYH7fzZII/AAAAAAAAAXc/OLtusZRFT_U/s1600-h/jrslm-DSCF3080.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SwAYH7fzZII/AAAAAAAAAXc/OLtusZRFT_U/s320/jrslm-DSCF3080.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404346077353829506" border="0" align="right" /></a>Jerusalem is a place, like many others, that must really be experienced first hand. I'll simply say that there were several times during the day that I was moved. The greatest of these was in The Dormition. We met with Adi's friend Roni and then went to visit a friend of his named Bilal. Both of these gentlemen showed us great hospitality and generosity. Here are some of the other places Adi and I visited in the Holy City of Jerusalem:<br /><ul><li>Church of the Holy Sepulchre</li><li>King David's Tomb</li><li>Crusader-built Room of the Last Supper</li></ul><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SwAYIFI5DEI/AAAAAAAAAXk/Uq8SI3-G_Hk/s1600-h/mtbeatitudes-DSCF3337.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SwAYIFI5DEI/AAAAAAAAAXk/Uq8SI3-G_Hk/s320/mtbeatitudes-DSCF3337.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404346079942085698" border="0" align="left" /></a>Later in the week we traveled northeast to the Galilee. En route we stopped for a few hours in Nazareth (الناصرة/נצרת). Since Nazareth is heavily Arab Christian and it was Sunday, there was very little to going on. Even most of the shops were closed. We did, nevertheless, spend a good amount of time at the Basilica of the Annunciation and checked out the highly disappointing and poorly kept "Mary's Well" (if indeed what we were looking at was Mary's Well). In the evening, I took the opportunity to attend my first mass in Arabic with Adi (her first full mass ever) at the lower grotto of the basilica.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SwAYIOr9K2I/AAAAAAAAAXs/U54kfqG5t3I/s1600-h/tabgha+-+loaves+%26+fishes.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 280px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SwAYIOr9K2I/AAAAAAAAAXs/U54kfqG5t3I/s320/tabgha+-+loaves+%26+fishes.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404346082505075554" border="0" align="right" /></a>We continued East toward The Galilee, passing through Cana (where we didn't stop for a glass of wine!). In Tiberias we found a very nice restaurant called Little Tiberias (scrumptious eggplant roulade that was effectively deconstructed caponata with feta, and filet of a Red Sea fish called Denise in an herb butter sauce), and made our way to sleep in Migdal (also Magdal[a], as in Mary Magdalene). I saw no prostitutes on the streets of Migdal, so maybe it's been cleaned up in the past 2000 years. The following day we trekked on to<br /><ul><li>Kfar Nachum (Capernaum), where Jesus spent much of his time and where Peter and a few other apostles came from</li><li>Mount of the Beatitudes, home of the Sermon on the Mount</li><li>Tabgha, where the miracle of the loaves and fishes purportedly took place</li><li>Upper Jordan River</li></ul><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SwAYITU2LXI/AAAAAAAAAX0/VF5clTFPmtc/s1600-h/tsfat-sephardi-syn.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 280px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SwAYITU2LXI/AAAAAAAAAX0/VF5clTFPmtc/s320/tsfat-sephardi-syn.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404346083750325618" border="0" align="right" /></a>On the way back to Tel Aviv, we stopped in Safed/Tsfat (צפת), "World Capital of Spirituality and Jewish Culture" and home of the Kabbalah. There's an Ashkenazi Quarter, a Sephardic Quarter, and a Citadel atop a hill which provides stunning views of the surrounding area. It would have been nice to have a bit more time there to appreciate the art and cultural elements, but we wanted to make one more stop and had to make it back in time for an appointment in Tel Aviv. To take in a bit of a different culture from the region, our final brief stop in the predominantly Druze village of Holfesh for a Druze pita: a gigantic flatbread smeared with labaneh, zatar, something spicy like harissa, and a generous drizzle of exceedingly fresh olive oil, all folded into a manageable po-boy size sandwich. The kind lady running the roadside restaurant brought us an herbal tea made with freshly cut leaves typical of the Druze. This made for a fine late afternoon snack.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SwAd_xRasHI/AAAAAAAAAYM/rIX3IZjB8TM/s1600-h/z-holfesh-DSCF3356.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SwAd_xRasHI/AAAAAAAAAYM/rIX3IZjB8TM/s320/z-holfesh-DSCF3356.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404352534239948914" border="0" align="center" /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04505593557407711749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8649538584183025053.post-26975995414134550602009-11-08T06:00:00.000-08:002009-11-15T06:46:26.269-08:00Dining in תל אביבAfter a super 3 a.m. airport reunion with my friend Adi, with whom I had almost instantly hit it off in Zimbabwe and later traveled to Chobe National Park in Botswana, my first day in Tel Aviv was spent chilling, sipping Arak (cf Pastis) at <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SwAONY4ApqI/AAAAAAAAAWs/-zvMKD4nhp4/s1600-h/DSCF2928.jpg"><img style="width: 280px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SwAONY4ApqI/AAAAAAAAAWs/-zvMKD4nhp4/s320/DSCF2928.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404335176023058082" border="0" align="left" /></a>Mezizim beach on the Mediterranean, and sorting out how we would work the week. Adi generously shuffled her entire life around to accommodate me, and in advance of my arrival discussed Israeli culinary options with her network of friends. She had a list of roughly ten places we should go while I was visiting. Unfortunately, I don't know that she grasped, before I arrived, what the gastronomic aspect of my journey is about exactly. [Ir]regardless, we did not starve.<br /><br />Within the first two days I must have consumed about 1/2 kg<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SwAON8d3-3I/AAAAAAAAAW8/pdIdcJO5hak/s1600-h/DSCF2931.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 170px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SwAON8d3-3I/AAAAAAAAAW8/pdIdcJO5hak/s320/DSCF2931.jpg" alt="Arak and Olives" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404335185577114482" border="0" align="right" /></a> of olives. Adi made me an Israeli breakfast of salads, cottage cheeses, silan (date syrup), and bread. We had Libyan food at <a href="http://www.eluna.com/Rest/Casserole.asp?mumu=616">Casserole</a> one night, including an incredible eggplant mousse and a spicy beef cheek & lamb stew with couscous. The next night we had Georgian food (not of the fried green tomatoes, field pies, and chicken fried steak ilk, mind you) at <a href="http://www.telavivguide.net/Tel_Aviv_Nightlife/Bars/Tel_Aviv_Nanuchka_Bar_%28Lilenblum_St.%29_2005092859/">Nanouchka</a>. Herbs, walnuts, and plums seemingly play prevalent roles in Georgian cooking. I had a white bean and white wine braised lamb shank. Adi and I went for a drink nearby. I'm fairly certain Jesus served me my black russian.<br /><br />Well before I ever stepped foot on a plane, a friend in Seattle gave me a few suggestions of things to see and do while in Tel Aviv. One that percolated to the top of my list was having hummus/masabaha at Abu Hassan in Jaffa. Evita had her rainbow tour; the lunch at Abu Hassan, eating hummus using layers of quartered onion thus began my hummus tour of Israel and beyond. Thanks, Anat, for pointing me in this direction. [Here's a picture of the awning at Abu Hassan in Jaffa. Only just realized that the post is blocking the name of the place. Well, at least you can read what they serve: hummus, foul, masabaha, labneh]<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SwAONgP_ovI/AAAAAAAAAW0/QLPmoEUeVj0/s1600-h/abuhassan.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 305px; height: 152px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SwAONgP_ovI/AAAAAAAAAW0/QLPmoEUeVj0/s320/abuhassan.jpg" alt="Abu Hasan" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404335178002703090" border="0" align="center" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SwAOOHJfXsI/AAAAAAAAAXM/jJzS8_T2lR4/s1600-h/DSCF2981.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 225px; height: 145px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SwAOOHJfXsI/AAAAAAAAAXM/jJzS8_T2lR4/s320/DSCF2981.jpg" alt="beach" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404335188444405442" border="0" align="right" /></a>I wandered around Jaffa for several hours then and on another day walked from Jaffa back up the beach front to Adi's. Such strolling is necessary after consuming a few cups of blended chick peas at one sitting.<br /><p><br /></p><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SwAON-AYs4I/AAAAAAAAAXE/2AAgXpp2njM/s1600-h/DSCF3211.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 190px; height: 270px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SwAON-AYs4I/AAAAAAAAAXE/2AAgXpp2njM/s320/DSCF3211.jpg" alt="Chez Parents" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404335185990300546" border="0" align="left" /></a>One other noteworthy dining experience in Tel Aviv was having Friday night dinner at Adi's parents' place. We had her dad's famous grilled whole eggplant with tahina, avocado salad, puff pastry stuffed with mushrooms and vegetables, and goooooood goulash. Besides this, it was a real treat getting a chance to meet the parents I had hear so much about and converse with them for a few hours about everything from lions to sociopolitical tensions between Israel and the Palestinian Territories.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04505593557407711749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8649538584183025053.post-23731262870162368162009-11-07T23:40:00.000-08:002009-11-26T19:46:13.277-08:00Bobbing Along, Bobbing Along, on the Surface of the Extremely Briny Sea(Obviously to the tune of this <i><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RcQ3vNOAk8k" target="_new">Bedknobs and Broomsticks</a></i> song)<br /><br /><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/Sw9HdAWnrNI/AAAAAAAAAYU/fuNLhlErtdE/s320/DSCF3187.jpg" border="0" alt="" align="right" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408620241131908306" /> A trip to Israel or Jordan would not be complete for a tourist without a visit to the uniquely salty Dead Sea. People may or may not be aware of how much easier it is to float in the ocean, a gulf, or some other body of salt water. However, the experience of swimming or floating in the Dead Sea, besides leaving you with a slightly less than pleasant film of minerals coating your entire body, greatly magnifies the effect of salt water on an object's buoyancy. Oh, and it'll quickly remind you how much salt burns if you have any scratches or cuts, or if you get it in your eyes. The most impressive part, when you stop to think of it, is that almost your whole body is on top of the water. You could be in water two meters deep, lie on your side, and it would look like you're practically lying on sand just a few inches below the surface.<br /><br /><br /><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px; height: 160px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/Sw9Hdlr68OI/AAAAAAAAAYc/2R55FgeC0dY/s320/DSCF3133.jpg" border="0" alt="" align="right" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408620251153363170" />On the same day as our visit to the Dead Sea, we spent a few hours in Ein Gedi at Wadi David, or David's Valley, where there are a few waterfalls, some cool freshwater pools beneath them, and pretty trails of varying degrees of difficulty on the mountain. Just be careful the Nubian Ibexes (or Ibices even) are not throwing rocks down on you from above. I hear they do that sometimes.<div><br /></div><div><br /><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/Sw9HdlHsfXI/AAAAAAAAAYk/dylh3gI-kNo/s320/DSCF3180.jpg" border="0" alt="" align="center" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408620251001421170" /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04505593557407711749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8649538584183025053.post-49418076950073806272009-10-31T23:59:00.000-07:002009-11-15T05:58:28.929-08:00Smoke 'Em If You Got 'EmWhy is it that the US airline industry has led us to believe that cutting costs is essential for the survival of flight when airlines in many other parts of the world still serve meals (even on two hour flights) that they do not charge extra for, do not make you pay to check your bag, and generally have less expensive service from point to point? If I hadn't eaten on the flight from Johannesburg to Addis Ababa, I may have been able to try some of the food that smelled so good (once you waded your way through the cigarette smoke) in the airport there. Oh well.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SwAI1VRBsVI/AAAAAAAAAWk/L2maswYQamo/s1600-h/DSCF2918.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SwAI1VRBsVI/AAAAAAAAAWk/L2maswYQamo/s320/DSCF2918.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404329265179242834" border="0" /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04505593557407711749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8649538584183025053.post-88242985978020572992009-10-31T22:00:00.000-07:002009-11-15T05:55:16.046-08:00Mini Harnas Reunion (...LEFTOVERS!!!)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SwAFxNsqwKI/AAAAAAAAAWE/GfmxyKgWgUU/s1600-h/DSCF2846.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 210px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SwAFxNsqwKI/AAAAAAAAAWE/GfmxyKgWgUU/s320/DSCF2846.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404325895893336226" border="0" align="right" /></a> Marina greeted me at the airport with a warm Harnas welcome -- although there were no banners and streamers -- whisked me away to my home for the next few nights with her and Anton. She described their cat on the way there: Devil Cat (a.k.a. Siam). I figured I had seen or known worse, so I was not concerned. When I arrived and met Anton and the alleged Devil Cat, they both gave me a friendly hello and the latter wound herself around my legs in a figure 8 before proceeding to investigate the bags I had put down in my room.<br /><br />Apartheid Day (described in earlier post) filled the first portion of my stay. Let's not think about how I could justify leaving an area of town with so little only to cook and eat well for the next 28 hours, but the remainder of my stay in Jo'burg following the Apartheid retreat would be all about food and drink.<br /><br />It was decided that I would make jambalaya for my hosts as a way of expressing gratitude for putting me up for a few nights and taking care of me. Obviously, finding andouille in South Africa is not straightforward, so we prepared improvised jambalaya. Incidentally, in retrospect, I'd like to try it with some smoked chicken breasts I saw at Woolworth's and karvanasi if I have the chance to prepare it again in ZA. It was delicious, if a tad on the bland side for my taste. What is most important is that my hosts appreciated it and enjoyed it, which seemed to be the case. Success!<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SwAFxU9v0DI/AAAAAAAAAWM/wU7NoKC_a-Y/s1600-h/DSCF2885.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SwAFxU9v0DI/AAAAAAAAAWM/wU7NoKC_a-Y/s320/DSCF2885.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404325897844019250" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SwAFxpX41QI/AAAAAAAAAWU/o8J7F-nyAM8/s1600-h/DSCF2906.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SwAFxpX41QI/AAAAAAAAAWU/o8J7F-nyAM8/s320/DSCF2906.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404325903322371330" border="0" align="right" /></a>The primary -- yes, this is true -- reason or excuse for my visit to Johannesburg was to attend the Good Food and Wine Expo I had read about in South African Airways' Sawubona in-flight magazine on the way to Africa at the end of August. Marina and I bonded at Harnas over our mutual "career gap" status, so it is fitting that we attended the expo on Friday morning with the pensioners and the unemployed. Our first wine tasting was probably at 10:15, since we arrived at the expo center ten minutes prior. For me, the rest of the day was spent nibbling and sipping everything from <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Biltong">biltong</a> to brandy.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SwAFxm4U-HI/AAAAAAAAAWc/syjTrwmzLzk/s1600-h/DSCF2916.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SwAFxm4U-HI/AAAAAAAAAWc/syjTrwmzLzk/s320/DSCF2916.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404325902653126770" border="0" align="left" /></a>Through fifteen minutes of torrential rain, we went to dinner at Moyo with some friends and relatives of my hosts. I had the most tender ostrich filets in <a href="http://www.recipezaar.com/Berbere-Sauce-140767">berbere sauce</a>. Although I have no recollection of the exact item, I remember that dessert was mighty good as well. This was a perfect, if foreshadowing, final day in Southern Africa before my departure to the Middle East the following day.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04505593557407711749noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8649538584183025053.post-12793672184459495322009-10-29T22:00:00.000-07:002009-11-15T05:37:36.506-08:00Apartheid and the Part I Hated<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SwACbMbBPDI/AAAAAAAAAVs/uOXz1xYtyyk/s1600-h/DSCF2848.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SwACbMbBPDI/AAAAAAAAAVs/uOXz1xYtyyk/s320/DSCF2848.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404322219058871346" border="0" align="right" /></a>Thursday was a day to ponder the history of Apartheid. In the morning Marina and I went to the Apartheid Museum, where<br />I think I could have certainly spent another two hours than we did. There is a lot to absorb. Fortunately I would get the chance to spend additional time taking in first-hand accounts and personal experiences at the <a href="http://www.soweto.co.za/html/p_hector.htm">Hector Pieterson</a> museum in Soweto during my afternoon tour through the township. This small but moving museum traces the events leading up to and following the 1976 Soweto Uprising. Before today I didn't realize that the Uprising was a protest against the use of Afrikaans as a medium of education. Talk about a Language War!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SwACbKbHo8I/AAAAAAAAAV0/xF2DVa60H-M/s1600-h/DSCF2863.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SwACbKbHo8I/AAAAAAAAAV0/xF2DVa60H-M/s320/DSCF2863.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404322218522420162" border="0" align="center" /></a><br /><br />The most awkward and uncomfortable aspect of the township tour was walking into someone's home in the middle of the afternoon with my [very] <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SwACbQMOGxI/AAAAAAAAAV8/zA8PJ5br4m4/s1600-h/DSCF2879.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SwACbQMOGxI/AAAAAAAAAV8/zA8PJ5br4m4/s320/DSCF2879.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404322220070542098" border="0" align="left" /></a>local guide (not the driver who'd been showing me around Soweto), in a very poor part of the township. I was led into the mini compound/home of a woman who has 11 people living with her in total. Her family (she and three young girls) stay in one tiny shack, while the rest of the people are basically tenants that stay within the confines of her fence line. She was in the middle of cleaning some chicken innards to prepare for dinner. I am not sure what questions I was supposed to have for her, but I was free to ask them. "How many people live here?" That was a good one. "What are you cooking for dinner?" There's another. It is not that I would not have liked to spek with this woman, but the encounter, despite its natural setting, felt completely unnatural, forced, and awkward. Only a few minutes after leaving her place did I have to tell some locals selling curios just by where the car was parked that I was not in the market for ANYTHING I'd have to traipse around the globe with. Great.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04505593557407711749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8649538584183025053.post-9349192652754421802009-10-28T02:15:00.000-07:002009-10-29T15:30:48.789-07:00Travel, Food, [New] Friends, [Country] Life<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SugNAUfCGoI/AAAAAAAAAU0/ynZba82-rPk/s1600-h/DSCF2691.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397578452553570946" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SugNAUfCGoI/AAAAAAAAAU0/ynZba82-rPk/s320/DSCF2691.jpg" align="right" border="0" /></a>In theory, one is supposed to arrive at the Intercape bus stand thirty minutes before the bus leaves Stellenbosch en route to Knysna (pronounced /naizn@/). I arrived just after 6 a.m. "Bus stand" is an exaggeration. David stand, yes. Bus stand, no. Near the university there is a foot bridge overhead that serves as the landmark on the Intercape reservation confirmation page. Other than that, it is just a place on a street in Stellenbosch that has no indication that the Intercape bus (or any other one for that matter) stops there except for 1) the off-street section of the road that looks like it's about the size of a bus and 2) the fact that the stoned guy at Stumble Inn told me that's where it stops. <bus><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SugNvG1ZuII/AAAAAAAAAVE/QcWWyc0crZ4/s1600-h/DSCF2737.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397579256343148674" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 280px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SugNvG1ZuII/AAAAAAAAAVE/QcWWyc0crZ4/s320/DSCF2737.jpg" align="right" border="0" /></a>About eight hours on a moderately comfortable bus and a few refreshment stops, I arrived at the Knysna Quays where I was greeted by Julia, an acquaintance of a friend of a friend who graciously agreed to host me, sight unseen but with a few e-mails exchanged, for a week (or as long as I wanted) in Knysna. I don't think I could have asked for a cooler host. Before I even left Seattle, Julia had gotten in touch with Dell & Sanchia, the mother-daughter proprietors of <a href="http://www.fireflyeatinghouse.co.za/">Firefly</a>, a restaurant that is featured in the <a href="http://www.countrylife.co.za/index.php?p[IGcms_nodes][IGcms_nodesUID]=6c451f4ef9cfe677b1d8018989a7261a">November issue of Country & Life magazine</a>, about the possibility of my getting together with them for a culinary exchange of sorts. While they may have been <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SugNvY3W6QI/AAAAAAAAAVM/bBBM67bRwOw/s1600-h/DSCF2745.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397579261183191298" style="WIDTH: 280px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SugNvY3W6QI/AAAAAAAAAVM/bBBM67bRwOw/s320/DSCF2745.jpg" align="left" border="0" /></a>open to the idea, it didn't materialize over the time I was in Knysna. Nevertheless, I did have a beautiful dinner there with Julia my second night in town, which started with a star anis caipirinha (foreshadowing the Brazilian leg of my travels in 2010) and ending with a do-it-yourself spiced hot chocolate (harkening back to my days of DIY chocolat chaud in Brussels at Fin du Siècle).<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SugNvuE2MhI/AAAAAAAAAVc/kAMKPsOHE9s/s1600-h/DSCF2812.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397579266876912146" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 280px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SugNvuE2MhI/AAAAAAAAAVc/kAMKPsOHE9s/s320/DSCF2812.jpg" align="left" border="0" /></a>How I worked up an appetite that day was by calling Stefan, of Hippo Dive Campus, and embarking upon the beginning of my Open Water <a>PADI</a> certification all afternoon. The scuba course took place over the next couple of days in the bay/lagoon. I'm now certified and ready to do a bit more advanced diving when opportunity next arises. Sorry, there are no pictures of me in a wetsuit decked out in a snazzy BCD with big ol' yellow cylinder on my back.<br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SugM__LX_xI/AAAAAAAAAUs/swSmRLWCSa0/s1600-h/DSCF2674.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397578446833975058" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 280px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SugM__LX_xI/AAAAAAAAAUs/swSmRLWCSa0/s320/DSCF2674.jpg" align="right" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Since we're on the subject of animals, I should mention Julia's three dachshunds. This one is Tanouk, engaged in a stand off with one of those vicious stripèd animals who was hiding behind a planter on the balcony.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Before stepping foot in Knysna, I realized or decided that it was going to be a place where I could consider consumables and generally relax -- <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SugNvdfhPZI/AAAAAAAAAVU/57MieX5Zi7U/s1600-h/DSCF2802.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397579262425382290" style="WIDTH: 250px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 250px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SugNvdfhPZI/AAAAAAAAAVU/57MieX5Zi7U/s320/DSCF2802.jpg" align="left" border="0" /></a>on land or up to about 60 ft under water. Besides going to firefly, while visiting this town I had some tasty SA oysters, went to the farmers market, had incredibly inexpensive and delicious SA wine, cooked and ate with julia, and learned a few Xhosa words and a couple of dishes like umngqusho & umxube (each with different clicks: ‘q' & ‘x') with Thami. Beyond eating and drinking, spending a week here gave me a bit of time to enjoy the company of my host[ess], who I clearly hope will one day allow me to return the favor in my home...wherever and whenever I have one again...<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SugNv9KAJiI/AAAAAAAAAVk/jTtJ4t_2vkg/s1600-h/DSCF2837.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397579270925067810" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SugNv9KAJiI/AAAAAAAAAVk/jTtJ4t_2vkg/s320/DSCF2837.jpg" align="left" border="0" /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04505593557407711749noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8649538584183025053.post-67294020012903670132009-10-28T02:06:00.000-07:002009-10-29T14:31:21.896-07:00Deep in the Heart of the Winelands: CouchSurfing Without the CouchPaid more for the taxi ride from the lodge in Cape Town to the train station (R20) than the train ("first class") from Cape Town to Stellenbosch (R12). I love public transportation. [White] locals I spoke with over the next two days seemed impressed by my ability and willingness to take the train. Odd, seemed fine to me. Maybe they should try it.<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SugK_C8fd9I/AAAAAAAAAT0/ZdHJC2N7-2A/s1600-h/DSCF2633.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397576231642167250" style="WIDTH: 280px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SugK_C8fd9I/AAAAAAAAAT0/ZdHJC2N7-2A/s320/DSCF2633.jpg" align="left" border="0" /></a>Upon arriving in Stellenbosch Sunday morning, I was immediately struck by the scent of jasmine and maybe honeysuckle in the air as I walked to the place I was staying. In case you're wondering, the name of said establishment is the Stumble Inn. Catchy name and a decent (and CHEAP) enough place to stay, but I wouldn't call it home for an extended visit to the Winelands. After depositing my affairs, I quickly went out for a stroll around town. Stellenbosch is a beautiful small town with white buildings and oak lined streets, lots of small shops and cafes, and a generally good vibe. In addition, I went to a place for lunch that had a good wine selection as well as wireless internet access! (of course for a fee) <stellenbosch><br /><br />I had connected with a few local <a href="http://www.couchsurfing.com/">CouchSurfers </a>before arriving and, although none of them could host me, we made plans to get together while I was visiting. Sunday night I went over to the flat of some super nice students, Carel & Ericka, for tasty tasty TASTY hamburgers. I brought with me a bottle of Ethnopio, a SA red blend that turned out to be quite pleasant to drink with Ericka's burgers. This was my second CS experience since arriving in Africa, and we're two for two to date.<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SugK_lPWC0I/AAAAAAAAAUE/5fTDEDD25MA/s1600-h/DSCF2650.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397576240848046914" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 290px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SugK_lPWC0I/AAAAAAAAAUE/5fTDEDD25MA/s320/DSCF2650.jpg" align="left" border="0" /></a> On Monday I again demonstrated my enterprising nature in sorting out a train to Paarl (R8.50). Paarl had been on my itinerary since the moment I found out the Taalmuseum or Afrikaans Language Museum was there. After a fairly lengthy delay getting to Paarl, I meandered through a city where I sensed people actually live and work to find the museum. The woman who greeted me at the museum is a cultural historian who went out of her way to give me much more information than I would have expected to get on a one-to-one basis. It was an <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SugK_3MAxRI/AAAAAAAAAUM/otLe7-5D3bY/s1600-h/DSCF2654.jpg"></a>incredibly informative visit that I'm very happy I made time for. Disappointingly, I didn't get to the taal monument, however, since I needed to catch a train back to Stellenbosch. <taal><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SugLAC9VpNI/AAAAAAAAAUU/b2KiZucKMW0/s1600-h/DSCF2667.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397576248825586898" style="WIDTH: 280px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SugLAC9VpNI/AAAAAAAAAUU/b2KiZucKMW0/s320/DSCF2667.jpg" align="right" border="0" /></a>The train back to Stellenbosch arrived just in time for me to be picked up by another CSer, Leendert, who had invited me to go with him, his sister, and a friend to JC le Roux for champagne (sparkling wine & méthode cap classique) tasting. Again, another wholly positive CS experience! It was a pleasure to meet Leendert, Rosanne, and Jackie; and the champange & nougat pairing we had was a real treat.<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SugK_V2nv4I/AAAAAAAAAT8/yoqKJYI6UjU/s1600-h/DSCF2634.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397576236717817730" style="WIDTH: 280px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OIu7QJCa1sc/SugK_V2nv4I/AAAAAAAAAT8/yoqKJYI6UjU/s320/DSCF2634.jpg" align="left" border="0" /></a>By coincidence, I had been on Facebook a couple of nights prior at the same time as an <a href="http://www.iub.edu/">IU</a> friend. He mentioned that he had a good friend in Stellenbosch who he subsequently got me in touch with. Said Stellenbosch friend and I arranged to have dinner Monday night. Following a brief period of recuperating following the champagne tasting, I was ready for dinner with Dawie and François. Although not connections through CS, I'll lump them into the category of fantastic quasi-strangers who I met via some online social networking medium and walked away hoping to see again someday.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04505593557407711749noreply@blogger.com0