Right Now - 26/12/09 4:26 PM

I'm sitting on my bed, if you can call it that, on Capitol Hill in Washington, DC. And just now, I decided to start writing again.  I've decided not to advertise that I am writing, but instead let people find it, if they do, and if not, that's okay too.  But for now, this blog is for me.  It's my private diary, in a way, made public.  It's me being as honest as I can to myself, but keeping myself in check, still diving into reasons I might not share.  This is my life, again, as best as I can record it, in only the ways I want it recorded.  This time it will be for me.  

I've been reading a book about "Buddhist Psychology" given to me by Margo, my ex-girlfriend's mother, after finishing Dan Brown's The Lost Symbol yesterday.  I chose to spend this Christmas alone, and believe me, it's lonely.  I think, in the end, I'm fundamentally lonely.  I question why I've done so much separation lately, and I think it's because I don't feel like I fit in and I feel weak.  With the combination of the two, I don't follow myself, but instead lose myself and follow others.  

I think I did a good job of that in Costa Rica, eventually being too distant from myself to even enjoy the sunset without thinking about what people were thinking about me at that time.  I drank more and more, surfed more and more, and frankly had a great time - but didn't connect with myself.  

And I started waiting.  I sat by idly, positive that the next "it" would come along and sweep me off of my feet.  But it didn't.  

And so I waited.  I kept options open.  I came back to Oklahoma for the wedding, and brought all of my stuff, but left Jake.  I wanted to be ready when "it" came.  I kept moving - horseback riding in Moab and Aspen; hanging with Kris in Denver; a weekend trip to see my beloved friends in San Francisco.  But it didn't come.  

In San Francisco I finally decided to move back to Costa.  It had been far too long since I had seen Jake, and the states were getting colder.  I wasn't welcome anymore where I had been staying, rightfully so.  I hadn't started working.  And damnit, I missed the surf.  I missed my Costa Rican family.  At the very least, in Costa people don't judge.  They are generally all just wonderful and supportive.  And as long as I was waiting for "it," I might as well be surrounded by love and waves.  

But something was missing.  I'd been waiting at this point for perhaps five months, and nothing.  Now, I had had some amazing adventures: Colombia, Ecuador, Peru, Colorado, California, Oklahoma - mountains and beaches, snow and surf.  But it was all just killing time.  It was all just waiting until it came around.  And in the meantime, waiting for Hazel to be born, and for Christmas to come around.  All waiting.  

And then Megan found out I had planned on moving back to Costa.  Before I could buy my return ticket, she forced me in the car to go to Doug's office so she could sign some papers.  It took the two of them in Doug's conference room for me to realize - I found it.  

It was right here.  It is right here.  I had just been to blind to see!  My purpose, my meaning in life, my everything was right here before my eyes!  So simple!  It is...

Wait... Taking a step back, the biggest part of my problem was not that I was lazy - certainly my life's adventures showed I was willing to get up off of my ass.  No, my biggest "problem" was that I could find no reason to do anything.  In a way, my journey had taken away all purpose, all meaningfulness.  I now no longer saw "good" and "bad" - I just saw things as they were.  I definitely saw suffering, but it was far beyond me how I could alleviate it, and if I could, whether that was a worthwhile endeavor.  I knew I had found nothing worth teaching, because what I had actually found was just that - nothing.  

And so I had become, well, dormant.  Nothing mattered, so why should I do anything?

But then it hit me.  When faced with no meaning in life, when faced with no purpose, there are two roads.  The first, which I had been on, is to despair.  To sit idly and stare at the world.  Wait.  Which was horrible.  But in that little office, it hit me.  In a way, what I had been waiting for came.  It.  

Purpose.  Meaning.  Life.  It.  

So simple!  And here it is. Without it, there can be no other purpose, no other meaning, no other reason for living than to search for it.  It, for me, right now, simply put, is the search for it.  

Oh, but don't think for a second I need to find it!  Because I already have.  I don't need to find anything, because it's right here.  But what I do need to do is search.  Because the search is my purpose.  

Perhaps some day that purpose will change.  Perhaps I will find another it in this search.  And when I do, this it will become the it of the past.  Perhaps not.  Perhaps I will confine myself to the search for it for the rest of my life.  And that will be wonderful too.  

And so I sit.  Alone.  On this unmade bed with Jake on the floor by my side.  Many have asked if I have found it yet on my search.  They ask whether working for "the man" in Washington is part of it.  They ask whether closing down Nova with Doug is the it I was waiting for.  How much people want me to be something other than who I am.  My answer is "yes."  I have found it.  Yes, working here in Washington is part of it.  Yes, having ridiculous, sinful fun is part of it.  Christmas alone.  Pain, pleasure.  Happiness, sadness.  It's all part of it.  Learning thai, relearning SPSS, talking politics with fascists, sweeping the floor, throwing snowballs at Jake.  

Am I satisfied?  Not really.  But at least I have found purpose again.  Am I following it at all costs?  Absolutely not.  And I'm not any happier.  In fact, I'm probably sadder.  I'm practicing.  I'm warming up.  I'm stretching.  

It's all part of it.  

Last Post

This will be my final post, at least for some time.  I find that blogging limits my freedom to be authentic, and so I'm going to stop it.  

Free Will

Don't read this if you are really interested in seeing Angels and Demons or reading the book.  This doesn't spoil the ending, but I describe a scene at the end which may ruin it for some of you.  

I finished watching the movie Angels and Demons the other day, which I downloaded from the internet to my computer and watched on this beautiful afternoon from a hammock on my porch here in Costa Rica.  At the very end, the cardinal that was in charge of the enclave says, "Thanks be to God for sending you to save our church."  Dr. Langdon replies, "You know I don't believe that he sent me."  And the cardinal says, "Oh my son, of course he did."  The newly elected pope is then shown giving Dr. Langdon a nod and before being presented to the awaiting public.  

I think what got me more than anything is the lack of appreciation shown directly to Dr. Langdon.  He was given a small gift by the cardinal, and only a nod by the new pope.  It's as if it awakened a part of me that I had lost in the past few months.  The cardinal and pope did not thank Dr. Langdon because they do not believe Dr. Langdon had a choice in the matter.  Dr. Langdon was just doing as God had determined.  And interestingly, I feel the same way - or at least have felt the same way, but have recently forgotten.  

Part of my spiritual transformation has been giving up the sense of control.  At the retreat I went to in Northern California, they have a saying that "everyone is at fault, but nobody is to blame."  Basically, it's an understanding that because a person is made up of his experiences, genetics, education, one can not give blame to that individual for any action.  Any negativity in the world is caused by something we have learned, some reaction that is not of our own making but instead some process or pattern that lives inside of us, but is not us.  If I get angry because you are late, I am at fault for my anger, but I am not to blame for my anger because it is a pattern I learned perhaps from my parents as a child when I witnessed my mother getting angry at my father for being tardy.  I was not in control in that reaction, but instead that pattern that lives in me was in control, and therefore I can not accept the blame.  

So, that's a concept that's relatively easy for me to grasp.  But can we then take credit for positives?  The cardinal and the pope both seemed to believe a human can not take credit for even extraordinary actions.  Our lives are in the hands of God, and we can not take credit for something over which we have no control.  And I agree!  I believe we are all acting as humans, through learned responses over which we don't have control, or on behalf of our spirits, which I don't see as separate or individualized.  Really, I feel our differences are human, but are spirits are all one.  Individually, therefore, we actually have no control, and therefore no blame or credit.  Blame for negativity can be given to the collective human experience, and credit for positivity can be given to the collective spirit.  

Really, this is a discussion of an individual's free will, and it also touches on responsibility, I guess.  I tend to believe that things happen the only way that they can, but I still believe in free will.  When looking backwards, it's easy to see that there was only one way possible, because the past can not be changed.  It happened in just the one way it could have.  But when looking at the present, I still have the feeling of free will.  Very strange.  

But because I look at the past and recognize that things happened the only way that they could, and tend to believe nobody is to blame or deserves credit, I find it very easy to forgive (I never really even have to as I don't really assign blame) and I have gratitude not to individuals but to the universe as a whole.  

For everyone, that is, except for myself.  I find it a lot easier to take blame and credit away from others than I find it to take away from myself.  I am struggling with decisions right now that seem enormously important, and I act as if my choice will be judged at some point in the future as good or bad - and I too will be judged based upon my choices.  And I'm pretty sure I know who that judge will be - because I have had feelings overwhelming guilt lately - judging my past actions as if they could have somehow been different than they were.  Hating myself despite the fact that I was blind.  Acting as if I know good and bad - acting like I can see clearly now.  Pain instead of compassion.  Hate instead of love.  

I guess it's time to find my way back to love. 

I'm the voice of one crying in the wilderness...

This blog started as a "Right Now," so hence the picture.  Please forgive me.  

Ahh, Sunday.  Much like Saturday.  And Friday.  All the days seem to be just the same right about now.  Surfing, reading, watching.  I feel like I'm waiting, but don't have anything to wait for.  

I've thought a lot about writing some of the things I've found interesting in the New Testament.  There's so much, though, and I certainly don't want to make this blog too much about religion or Jesus.  I'm now almost done with the four gospels.  I would say that if there are three things I have found in the Bible so far, that are that:

1. The accounts of Jesus don't show someone that is all love, forgiveness, and hope.  In fact, Jesus is frequently vengeful.  He's quoted as saying "If you're not with me, you're against me."  (Obviously I'm not quoting directly, because old English is silly, kinda like England English today.  Just silly.)  He tells his disciples at one point to shake the dust off of their shoes when leaving towns that don't accept them as a sign for Jesus to send them to hell when he returns.  In a couple of the gospels, he's quoted as saying "How long must I suffer thee?"  Another - "I come not to send peace, but a sword."  Sheesh!  Throughout all of the gospels, people fear Jesus and God, even when he has saved a life or cured blindness.  Don't get me wrong, I am sure that he is far more compassionate than the vast majority in his time (in John they try to stone him at least twice without any type of trial).  He has some wonderful loving things to say.  But he still preaches fear and hatred as a stick behind the carrot of heaven.  "But those mine enemies, which would not that I should reign over them, bring hither, and slay them before me."  Of course, followed a few pages later with "Forgive them, for they know not what they do."  Confusing, right?  
2. It's incredibly inconsistent.  Not just between gospels, but actually within them.  For example, in just Luke, Jesus is quoted as saying both "If you're not with me, you're against me" AND "If you're not against me, you're with me."  Two totally different positions, one far more compassionate and inclusive than the other.  When Jesus dies on the cross, it's written that he either cries out asking God why God has forsaken him (yeah, amazing, right?), or instead cries out asking God to take him.  I think one can find some good morals of the story in the gospels, but I find it really hard to base one's life morality on such contradictions.   
3. Jesus has some really bad parables.  Some are REALLY bad.  He says he uses parables so that the blind can see.  While his disciples may be able to understand his direct speech, parables help those who don't have the ability to understand like his disciples.  I actually dig this - it's as if they're meant to get around the intellect and into the subconscious.  Oddly, though, after almost every parable, Jesus has to explain the parable to his disciples.  And some of them flat out don't make sense.  On the other hand, one in particular struck me - A householder hires some men, and agrees to pay them a penny for a day's work.  Throughout the day, he continues to hire men, still agreeing to pay them a penny to work for that day.  At the end of the day, the people hired first in the morning are upset because the people that were hired later in the day received the same amount of compensation despite not working as long as those that started in the morning.  The householder's response is perfect: "Is thine eye evil, because I am good?" It definitely beats the parable about throwing seeds to the wayside, on a rock, in thorns, and on good ground, which doesn't help illustrate a point at all and makes you wonder why he didn't just say what he meant in the first place.   

Wow, I find myself going back and adding more and more.  Maybe I should dedicate a blog to the Bible.  Or write a book about it.  Nobody's ever done that.  I guess what I am finding is that Jesus was far from perfect.  He was a man, whether the son of God or not.  That's one of the things my mom loves about Jesus, and I guess we all have to accept.  In the end, I guess we're all human.  

In the end, there are some wonderful parts of the Bible.  John has definitely been my favorite of the gospel writers, as he has a very poetic way of following the story, and he also shows a more human side of Jesus in his friendship with Lazarus, Martha, and Mary.  He's also got a great sense of humor, like when one future disciple asks "Can there any good thing come out of Nazareth?" when he first hears that the Son of God has come from Nazareth.  I feel the same about Texas.  Jesus even jokes around with Nathanael when Nathanael first believes Jesus is the Son of God simply because Jesus saw Nathanael under a fig tree at one point.  There are some beautiful quotes, such as: 

• "No prophet is accepted in his own country."
  
• "For what is a man advantaged, if he gain the whole world, and lose himself."
• Oh, this isn't really a great quote, but I find it really funny.  Any time someone seeks revenge on someone else, regret of that person comes in the form of "weeping and gnashing teeth."  It's all over the gospels.  
• "Forgive them, for they know not what they do."
• "I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness."  AWESOME, right?  Obviously that's from John.  I want to write a book and entitle it that.  I am going to go move to a cabin in the woods somewhere and do that now.  MAN, I love that quote.  
• "The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth: so is everyone that is born of the Spirit."  

I just wrote a long paragraph about being directionless and still searching for meaning, but erased it.  I am just using words that make it seem like I am lost, and so I'm believing I am lost. Really, I'm just not inclined to move in a certain direction today.  Here is just fine.  My mind is trying to figure shit out.  It's trying to figure out what is best for me, when it doesn't have any way of every knowing.  It needs to chill.  I'm missing home (the Oklahoma one) a lot.  I'm missing Kris a lot.  And those emotions are making it harder on my mind to step back and concern itself with the execution, not with the policy.  I need to chill.  Pressure certainly won't get me anywhere.  I hear the sound, but can't tell from where it comes, or where it goes.  

In any event, I'm excited as hell to go home in a couple of weeks.  I can't wait to see Megan with her big ole belly.  I'm really looking forward to seeing Ryan and spending more time with him while he still looks like a peanut (does he?).  Family, friends, even Neil.  I'm a little nervous about seeing Kris, too, who I guess I'll see at the wedding.  Actually, I'm really excited about it.  Not sure if she'll want to chat or even say hi, but I hope so.  If not, that's okay too.  I guess.  I'm looking forward to taking Aaron on in Golden Tee.  And having a scotch with Terry.  And maybe dinner at Mamasita's with Douggie.  Wonder if I'll get the chance to watch the Sooners with sooner fans for the first time in, geez, a year?  

And then?  Who knows.  Maybe I'll head off to the wilderness for a month or many and write a book, or just watch my thoughts.  Maybe I'll find a way to travel to Africa.  Maybe I'll come back to my family in Costa.  Maybe I'll find that it's time for the mountains.  Or maybe it's time to spend some time at home and suck on some candy canes in December.  

For now though, I'm loving the waves on the longest vacation of my life.  It's hard to feel sorry for myself when I'm surrounded by such beauty - flowers, sun, beach, ocean, amazing people, Jake, sunsets.  It's all wonderful.  

Weeping and gnashing teeth.  Ha!

10 Days in Review

As my mom has probably noticed (and Kent too, who I haven't heard from in YEARS), I haven't blogged in a while.  So, like cheesy 80's movies - such as Rocky - I am going to do a montage to catch us all up.  

Okay, got home.  Check.  

Interlude - the loudest cricket EVER is doing his thing right now.  Seriously, it's deafening.  Sorry, you're probably not interested.  

Right, so got home.  Nothing happened.  I found myself surfing, reading the Bible, and watching US Open tennis.  I'm living with a guy who seems to always be watching tennis.  And so when I am not surfing or reading, I find myself watching tennis.  And I get into it sometimes.  There's a really cute girl who's name starts with W that is doing well.  That's my US Open tennis update.  

Okay, the Full Moon Party happened.  My friend, Lee, who watches tennis, DJ'd the party, and was absolutely awesome.  Had oldschool turntables, played a very eclectic mix ranging from funk to, well, something a long way away from funk.  It was super fun.  And I don't want to tell on the town or anything, but someone showed up with a bunch of mushroom tea, and a good portion of the town had a least a few gulps.  Of course, I didn't.  But, I did end up in a pink wig, wearing a dress, going commando, while dancing behind (and on - yeah) the bar.  But I repeat, I did not have any mushroom tea.  Here's a pic of Jenny spinning some fire, one of three roommates at the turntables, and a picture for your enjoyment and future blackmail or extortion if I decide to run for office. 

Okay, other things: Scott, Randall, Sean, Shilka, and I watched Costa Rica lose to freaking some team in blue the other day in the World Cup qualifiers.  While the game doesn't mean a whole lot to me personally, and I generally don't like watching a lot of soccer, we had an absolute blast (at least until the freaking blue team scored in the 90th minute).  It's fun when you decide to just go all out in cheering.  Here's a pic of us having fun.  

Jeni's gone again.  That's sad for me, but she'll be back in a few months.  It's kinda strange just not having her around, as she was kinda my go to friend to do pretty much anything.  I'm very much getting used to people coming and going.  There are actually very few people in town these days.  

I bought a new board!  Down to a 6'4"!  Which is strange, because I am actually considering going back to Oklahoma for an extended period to regroup.  We'll see.  

There's a great surf tournament going on in Oeste this weekend!  Gilbert Brown, Jason Torres, and our hometown hero Cali are all competing, as are some good amateur friends that are just enjoying the waves and surfing with these guys that you have probably never heard of.  Today was absolutely beautiful.  Jake and I spent most of the day watching the competition, hoping to catch some waves late, but never got around to it.  

Oh, yesterday though, Jake beat the break and swam around our boards for an hour as Pat, Brett, and I surfed some nice waves out front.  Every 20 minutes or so I invited Jake to take a break and climb on my board with me (I borrowed a longboard).  I'll need a special board, but Jake will surf within the next two weeks.  Mark my words.  Here's a picture of Jake at the tournament today, so you all know he's still alive.  

I'm ridiculously tan.  Nobody has ever been tanner than me.  All of the ticos look yellow next to me.  Two months of vacation in Costa Rica does this to people.  Oh, and I don't think I have swine flu.  It seems it's just a coincidence.  Or is it?

Okay, that's all I got now.  There's some US Open tennis on that requires my attention.  Has anyone seen my razor?  

Do I Have Swine Flu?

Umm, so, the President of Costa Rica got swine flu just before I left for Colombia.  The President of Colombia got swine flu just before I left Colombia.  And NOW, after just leaving Ecuador, the Head of Security for the President of Ecuador has died of H1N1.  

Sheesh.

Relying on Intuition

A friend of mine, Erik, who went to the same retreat as I several years before me writes a daily quote on his facebook account from his home in Aspen.  They pop up on my wall, and I read them from time to time.  Anyway, today's I really liked.  It's the concept I have been trying to express for the past year and a half since I decided to start making decisions not from an intellectual position, but instead from my spirit.  Anyway, here's the quote:

 "Whenever we need to make a very important decision, it is best to trust to impulse, to passion, because reason usually tries to remove us from our dream, saying that the time is not yet right. Reason is afraid of defeat, but intuition enjoys life and its challenges." - Paulo Coelho

Coelho, of course, wrote The Alchemist, which is a book I have written about here several times.  How much easier it seems for us to make intellectual decisions than face our fears and make intuitive decisions that may at first seem irrational.  If you are unable to trust your intuition, and need a rational reason to do so, read Blink.  Our intuition is so much smarter than our intellect, and takes into account so much more than our conscious minds ever could.  Use your intellect, body, and emotions to gather all of the information you can before making a decision, but then rely on your intuition to make the decision, and your use your intellect only to execute.    

By the way, another quote from Erik's wall:

"Surrender is faith that the power of love can accomplish anything... even when you can not foresee the outcome." - Deepak Chopra

Vago

WARNING: THIS GETS PREACHY.  

So, I had an interesting conversation with a friend a few days ago in Peru.  I just like saying that.  A few days ago, in Peru, I was talking to this friend... Anyway, Marion accused me of being lazy.  And, of course, I am.  So she's spot on.  But it got me thinking about this term that we use, and the ways in which we use it.  

Dictionary.com defines lazy as "adverse or disinclined to work, activity, or exertion."  Don't you love the word "disinclined," by the way?  But back to lazy.  Marion was accusing me of being lazy because I don't want to get a job.  I would prefer to not have a job.  Which isn't really true, though.  I would love to have someone pay me - it's really just that I don't want to do things outside of what I want to do to make that money.  And so, really, I just don't want to do things that I don't want to do.  When Marion met me, I was actually doing a lot!  I was traveling throughout South America.  In the days we spent together I went for several swims, I played a lot of ping pong, I got up one morning at 6:30 to catch some early waves and have a two session day, I ate ceviche for breakfast and bought fruits I'd never had to make juice, I had new and unique conversations with perfect strangers about laziness.  And yet I was being accused of being lazy because I don't have a job!  

And I've noticed this everywhere, really.  If you're not doing something you don't want to do - you're lazy!  How backwards are we?  Instead of aspiring to do only what we want to do, and commending those that have reached that stage for whatever reason, we use a derogatory term to refer to those that get to do what they want to do, and we compliment those that neglect themselves in order to make money or keep their status quo.  

So, as I sit here in beautiful Costa Rica, jobless, eating some canned pork and beans for breakfast, thinking about going for a late morning surf session after I make some travel arrangements to fly back to my home state to see the most wonderful people in the world (not you Neil), I have decided to change our use of the word lazy.  From now on, anyone who is disinclined to follow what they really want to do because they are too afraid of getting outside of their comfortable little work-sleep box I will call lazy.  And for those of you that are out there, doing the things that they have always wanted to do, taking opportunities and truly seizing the day, I will commend you.  Stop reading other people's blogs, following news stories about other people, or facebook stalking an ex-boyfriend.  Go live your life!  

I don't mean that you're lazy if you get paid - of course not!  You're not even lazy if you get paid doing something you don't want to do.  But you're a lazy SOB if you are neglecting yourself because you don't want to exert the energy after work to find a sailboat for a sunset cruise, or if you're too afraid of what your friends would think if you got up to dance, or if you're too afraid of rejection to even introduce yourself to that guy at the other end of the bar.  Snap out of it.  Don't turn on that TV tonight.  Go home and make a delicious dinner for you and your wife.  And pick up some flowers on the way.  When you feel like you should do something, do it.  Stop procrastinating.  Just go do it.  Pick up some paint and throw it on a wall or on a canvass.  Stop waiting to live your life.  Live it now.    

That got a little preachy for a Tuesday morning.  I think I'll put on some pants and make myself a smoothie to wash down those beans.  That's what I really want to do right now.  

Las Lajas

So, the virgin Mary appeared on a sheer rock canyon face a couple hundred feet above the river below near the town of Ipiales, Colombia.  And the Catholic church decided to commemorate the apparition with an absolutely beautiful church, built right on the sheer rock wall.  And they called it Las Lajas, which literally translated means The Lajas.  

The place is stunning.  Breathtaking, really.  I visited it while waiting for the bus in Ipiales (it's only about 10km away).  A particularly interesting part of the church is that the rock faces surrounding the church are filled with hundred of plaques giving thanks to Mary from families all around Colombia and Ecuador.  I took a lot of pictures at first, but then just went in and, well, prayed.  Not really to anyone, but just did a check in, and kinda talked to myself.  And I actually felt very peaceful.  And here's where I get strange - so brace yourself. 

At the retreat I went to in Northern California, we did a lot of visualizations.  In many of our visualizations, we visualize a certain previously unknown person who is our "spiritual guide," who helps us stay on our spiritual paths.  Each person visualizes his spiritual guide differently, and nobody actively chooses how to visualize his spiritual guide.  The guide just kinda comes to us.  It's been over a year and a half since the retreat, and so I know how strange this sounds to people, but this visioning helps enormously in my ability myself and be authentic.  My spiritual guide, for example, is named Emily, and looks a lot like the Liv Tyler playing the elven princess in the Lord of the Rings.  Again, I didn't choose this, she's just who came.  In my visualizations, I frequently ask her questions, ask for her help, or just listen to her and what she has to say.  I bet Liv would find that strange.  I think I may have just lost a lot of friends by sharing this, but anyway... 

While in the Lajas cathedral, I went into a visualization, and to my surprise, my spiritual guide came to me appearing as Mary.  And it was really interesting to me how similar Mary was to Emily.  Almost identical, actually.  Now, I don't believe in the Christian god, nor do I believe Jesus was any more a son of god than I am.  But there was something very soothing about Mary.  In her appearance to me, and in the images of her throughout the world, Mary is very much the personification of love.  In the statues around the church and the painting above the alter, Mary always has the look of compassion, understanding, and acceptance.  The same that has been provided to me by Emily.  And I felt at peace, there in the church dedicated to Mary, as Mary approached in place of my spiritual guide. 

Doesn't she kind resemble the virgin Mary?

And I now better understand the thousands of plaques giving thanks to Mary.  I guess to millions of Christians around the world, Mary is much like my Emily - a source of unconditional love and a guide to stay on that path of love.  And for me, Mary's very much become the same - her image now serving as a reminder to me of that compassion and acceptance which I so often lose connection with.  

Thank God only my mother reads this blog. 

Looks Like I'll Make It

I ran into a little problem on the border between Ecuador and Colombia, and thought I just might not make it.  Turns out that when I went to Immigration at the Ecuadorian border, the Ecuadorian side did not stamp my passport nor register that I was back in the country.  Which made me illegal.  Which means against the law.  On the Peruvian border, the immigration officer told me I didn't need another one, because I still have time on my old stamp.  It seemed strange, sure, but it was the middle of the night, I was mostly asleep, and I was trying to deal at the same time with an Israeli who didn't get an exit from Peru and desperately needed my help with translation.  

SO, today, when I showed up to check out of Ecuador, they said that they had to turn me in for being in the country illegally.  And that it costs a lot to get out of a situation like that.  They said $200.  

So, the negotiation starts at $200.  But here's the deal - as you may have seen in my last post, I ain't got no $200.  I don't have $2.  Or do I?

I pleaded.  I begged in spanish, and I said again and again how I didn't have any money.  I told them I had just enough to get to Cali and pay my exit tax.  I told them how I couldn't even afford a place to stay tonight, or I wouldn't be able to get out of Colombia.  And I BEGGED.  

But it didn't work.  They held my passport.  They wouldn't return it.  So finally, I said to the guy, okay.  He took me to the back room.  There, I told him that I could part with $10, and that's it.  Really that's it.  I haven't eaten in the past 36 hours because of my stomach, which has saved me some cash.  And so $10 I could actually afford.  And he agreed that it was enough to pay my fine.  Note: It absolutely was to pay a legitimate fine, and was in no way a bribe.  At no time have I ever or will I ever offer bribes to government officials in any country, nor would the fine people at the Ecuadorian migration office accept one.  

Bastards.    

And so he gave me my passport.  And he gave me an exit stamp (which will be interesting to see what happens next time I go to Ecuador with two exits and only one entrance).  

BUT, I'm on my way.  I'm back in Colombia, the place of my birth.  I'm hanging out in the border town of Ipiales for a couple of hours, waiting for a late enough bus to get me into Cali in at least some daylight.  I just ate a quarter chicken - my first meal in 36 hours.  It was awesome, and my stomach seems like it might handle it.  I also haven't had any water.  I had to be on busses for 7 hours or so, with no toilets, so I didn't want to upset and potential balance I had in my belly.  And I made it.  I'm getting on another bus in an hour or so, and should be in Cali as the sun rises.  I'm legal, I've got enough cash to get out of the country, and I've got a ticket that will get me damn close to the airport.  All of these things were weighing on my mind as I left Quito (those and the little stomach problems I was having) - and now I can just relax, get some water, and enjoy the cruise north.  

REALLY LOOKING FORWARD TO GETTING BACK TO COSTA!

Right Now - 29/8/09 3:47 PM

Right, well, I guess I didn't learn my lesson about the food.  Or maybe it was taking a shot of scorpion infused firewater.  Or maybe it is just life.  But I'm sick again.  This time no fever yet, but man my stomach is messed up.  But I look pretty tough with this bruise/gash on my face from two nights ago.  I look like I could mess you up.  But I can't.  Not with these dainty wrists.  

I'm in Quito.  I got here at 4:00 AM this morning.  I'm sick of getting places in the middle of the night, really.  I got here, not feeling great, and I was a bit stressed.  I took city busses all the way from the South end of Quito to the airport in the north.  I still didn't have a return flight, and the phone was difficult for two reasons: 1) I don't have the money to both make the phone calls AND make it to the flight; and 2) Copa airlines is retarded.  Maybe they're drunk.  

Anyway, after passing the airport, and then coming back to it, I finally determined that the central office of Copa, in downtown Quito, is the only office that can help me.  AND - they don't open until Monday.  So, I decided to make my way back to old town on some busses to try to find a place to rest, and perhaps find some internet so I can call Copa in the US for free on Skype.  

Right, well, after stealing another $50 from mom's credit card without her permission, I got a flight (thanks Mom) from the phone here at my hostel (Secret Garden in Old Quito).  And I don't have to go all the way to Bogota, which I can't tell you how good that is.  Here's the situation - I don't have the money to BOTH go to Bogota AND pay my departure tax.  I've done some studying online to tell me what my departure tax is, and while the answer varies widely, it seems like it's about $30.  I've got $50 and about $50 in pesos (Colombian variety).  The pesos should get me to Cali and leave approximately $25.  That leaves $5 I have to pay from my US cash.  I'll have to pay $8 to get to Colombia.  I'll have to pay $20 for lodging tonight, dinner tonight, and breakfast this morning and tomorrow morning.  Four meals between breakfast tomorrow and my flight (assuming two meals a day), each at $4, is $16.  That leaves me with - wait for it - $1.  $1 when I get on the plane.  Wow.  WOW.  Wow.  Wow.  Let's hope the tax isn't $32.  Maybe I can make it without dinner tonight. 

Regardless, in spite of my stomach and my absolutely horrendous money planning - both worldly concerns, I know - I'm in good spirits.  Mom, I got some pedialyte at the pharmacy, so I'll get all my electrolytes back.  I'm going to go lay down and watch a movie.  Haven't done that in a while.  

OH!  On the stairs between the first and second floors is a quote from Einstein, which I felt was right in line with Steve's comment the other day.  I never think about the future - it comes soon enough.  

Montanita - Meaning: Awesome

So, I guess what I really needed was just to get silly drunk.  And by silly drunk, I mean stupid drunk.  And by stupid drunk, I mean retarded drunk.  Awesome.  Let’s see some highlights:

• Rum and cokes to start at the hostel with the leftover rum from Alausi that has crossed the Peruvian border – twice. 
  
• Pizza and beer dinner with three Canadians and four German girls. 
  
• “Flaming Ecuador” shots with the gang.  The bartender rewarded me with a shot from a bottle filled with aguardiente and, get this, scorpions.  Not kidding you.  Oh, he set it on fire for me too. 
  

Morning after with the bottle of scorpions.  

• A serious danceoff – shirtless – with a local black guy for the affection of three Ecuadorian women. 

• I won.  

• Girls giving me lots of drinks - they drank free so they kept putting their straws to my mouth.  In spite of David's warning, I consumed.  And upon waking up - I still have my corneas.  No lesson learned there.  
• Mostly naked (all male) swimming with the Canadians in a pool at the bar.  Nobody joined us.  My boxer shorts have huge holes in them.  Locals took note.
  

• A dog fight in the bar, followed by an “I got this,”  and me joining the dog fight in an attempt to bite them back.
  
• Another dance off, this time involving the “worm” and a kick to my face - seriously.  And this time on stage.  And this time soaking wet after our swim.  This is when I became legendary, I think.
  

• Bloody face from the kick, and a bloody lip from an Ecuadorian girl with a biting fetish. 
  
• How does one lose a SOCK at a bar?  And just one!  
• Awesomeness.  

 

I’m on the bus on the way to Puerto Lopez, and it’s absolutely beautiful loking over the beaches from up on this small mountain. 

 

I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun in one night.  I think it was Fred’s party with the pink boa back in Marchish.  I had a blast with the Germans and the Canadians, and felt like life-long friends.  This afternoon, as I was heading to the bus stop, a local  that I did not know at all saw me passing and said, “Brian! Estas saliendo? Puedes quedar aqui!”  In other words, people know me.  I’m kind of a big deal. 

 

So, that was fun.  It’s hard leaving all the time though.  But now I’m heading to Quito if I can.  I still don’t have a flight home (that’s a long story), but I think I’ll try just going to the airport in Quito and seeing if they can help me there.  If not, I’ll head on to Colombia I guess, and figure it out there.  

Oh, I'm ridiculously low on money.  Maybe I can sell this Bible.  

Right Now - 28 Aug 1:30 PM

Chilling at an intenet cafe in Montanita. I'm just not feeling good about it here. Strange. The town itself is unattractive to me. It's mostly mud roads and construction. Not a lot of open space to just chill, other than on the beach. It's heavily overcast, and a little too chilly for the beach. Surfing doesn't really look like an option today.

I've got a lot weighing on my mind. Jake is sick. I have to try to change my flight back to Oklahoma. I have to book a ticket back to Costa Rica. I kinda wish I had chosen to go south with Marion. I miss Alex and the Irish with whom I had a blast yesterday in Mancora. I miss being grounded. I've lost a bit of my sense of adventure.

Maybe I am a bit depressed because I feel like I am taking steps back instead of forward. Maybe I am worried about what will happen at the beginning of October. I feel frequently these days like I have to figure out my life before making each individual decision. For example - the decision to go to Machu Picchu. I'm considering moving for a short period back to Oklahoma - at least to make it a home base for whatever I might do next (Nepal? Islands?). If I do that, then it makes sense to make the move when I go back at the end of September. And to that, I have to get everything arranged for Jake. Which takes time. Which I wouldn't have if I went to Machu Picchu.

I think really I am just tired. I'm in a place where really the thing to do is party at night, and I don't party that much these days. Especially when I am tired. I'm more inclined, really, to just pack up and take off. But to where?

This is another one of those lost days. Trying to tackle everything at once, and everything intellectually. Guess I need to spend some time alone. But that's hard too. I guess it's time to book a flight home.

Umm, Still Peru

So, as it turns out, I didn't quite make it out of Peru last night.  Alex, a friend I met in Banos, arrived in Mancora yesterday or the day before, and in spite of being very sick the night before, I hung out with him for a while yesterday.  And towards the afternoon, I was just not in the mood to move on, either north or south.  Feeling a lot better at the time, I just didn't want to get in a bus quite yet.  

I moved to a new hostel last night, and the difference between the two is as great as the difference between my last two nights.  In NAIF, the first hostel, I had a private room and bathroom in a very small, family run hostel with a nice little kitchen, a young daughter running around with her friends, and more hammocks than guests.  While I enjoyed it immensely, my final night there was borderline delirious with the fever (maybe over the border), and consisted of me shivering in bed or shivering in the bathroom for the better part of the night.  Loki, on the other hand - a name that has particular importance to me - was quite the opposite of the tranquilo atmosphere provided by NAIF.  The building is beautiful (as you can see here), with a large swimming pool, a big bar, pool table, ping pong, table soccer, volleyball, and perhaps 100 or more guests lounging in posh resort style.  I shared a room with 5 other people, and struggled to get some sleep over the heavy beats being played in the open bar/pool area after hanging out with some Germans until 1:00 AM.  While 1 AM doesn't exist at NAIF, it's early at this hostel, and is the time when may here go out to party somewhere else.  

In any event, I am still in Peru.  I met a couple girls from Germany last night that are headed to Ecuador today, and thought I might join them at least for the bus ride.  I'm guessing I'll head to Montanita overnight tonight, and perhaps spend a day or two there, and then head up to Cali and Bogota to catch a flight home.  I'm down to well under $100, and have about $40 worth of busses, perhaps, to get back to Colombia.  Then another $40 to get to Bogota - but I still have some Colombian pesos for that.  So, perhaps I have $50 left. That may last three days, but, wow, hrmm, this is cutting it close.  

Okay, so another day in Peru, and then north.  As far as you know. 

Note: You can't see here.  Internet connection sucks butt.  

Peru

Sunrise in Mancora.

Surf Peru - Check. 

So, a few days ago, when Alex, Ferne, and I got to Cuenca, we were planning on spending at least a night or two in Cuenca.  But something happened when we got to the bus terminal in Cuenca.  We checked on buses heading out, and all of us ended up buying tickets to leave Cuenca that night.  They went on south to Loja and Vilcabamba, and I traveled west and south to the Peruvian border.  Bus leaves at 9, it was only about 2, so we headed into Cuenca for a look around and some food (again, no burgers south of Cuenca), and back to the bus terminal to catch my 9 o'clock.  

I know this may sound a bit like a repeat of my border crossing into Ecuador, but I met an awesome French girl at the bus terminal in Cuenca as we were boarding the bus to Mancora.  Marion is down in South America after a friend's wedding in Guayaquil, Ecuador.  She's going to travel a bit through Peru before heading back to France next month.  She and I hit it off immediately, and were almost friends by the time we reached Mancora at, get this, 4:30 AM.  This marks the second time I found myself in a small town in a new country for the first time in the middle of the night with a girl from Paris without a place to go.  Strange, huh? 

So we took at mototaxi (tuctuc) to a hostel we had heard of, and after negotiating for a room, decided to just sleep a couple of hours in a hammock until daylight and then find a place to stay the following night.  After minimal sleep, Marion and I left for a walk to the beach just before sunrise to find some breakfast.  This town is beautiful.  It's dry - a real desert climate much dryer than I had imagined.  The sun is really hot, but the breeze that blows off the water is very cool.  There are quite a few tourists here, both from Peru and from away, but it's absolutely not even close to overwhelming like Jaco might be (and Jaco is nothing compared to most resort towns in the world).  The one main street is paved, littered with tuctucs everywhere, while all other roads, like the one by the beach, is made of sand.  There are beautiful women, hippies, Europeans, surfers, kiteboarders, sunbathers, and partiers.  But not many of each.  

NAIF Hostel. 

Yesterday I surfed a 6:30 AM session and a 2 PM session.  Peru marks my third country to surf in - behind Costa and Nicaragua.  The waves aren't huge (no big swell these days), but the point break is a lot of fun, although a bit crowded.  I find it easier to surf here, as the waves seem to wall up a bit better than in Oeste, even when they are small.  I surfed on a 6'8", which isn't very small, but is the smallest I have ever surfed, and I did really well.  Wetsuit in the morning, but only board shorts in the hot afternoon sun.  It was an absolutely wonderful experience.  I was a little nervous at first around a lot of new people, but quickly got in the swing of things and caught a good 10 waves or so yesterday.  Some over head-high.  Sweet.  

Me getting off the back of a waste-high in Peru. 

Marion and I have had the most wonderful conversations over the past few days.  We spent about exactly 72 hours together, and all of it together, with the exception of the few hours of sleep for the two nights.  She has challenged me completely, but at the same time we have helped each other to look at life, and living, from different perspectives.  I have absolutely loved connecting with her - however short lived it was.  

Marion left for Lima last night, as I suffered most of the night with what turned into a horrible fever.  While I have been pretty sure I would head south for the past couple of days, I think it's time I head back north.  I love the idea of going to Machu Picchu.  But I think I'm tired.  I miss my dog.  I miss Costa.  I miss Oklahoma.  It's only been a couple of weeks, I know, but I think it's time to start my adventure back north.  So tonight I will catch a bus, most likely back into Ecuador, and see if I can't catch a wave there back to Costa Rica, and then on to Oklahoma.  

For Better and For Worse

A good friend of mine told me today that she gets upset because people never write on Facebook or in their blogs about the bad times.  Generally, it's only pictures on Facebook of smiles and beautiful sunsets.  So, tonight, I am writing because this is one of those bad times.  

Not that it's all bad.  I am in a beautiful place... still in Mancora in Peru.  The place I am staying, while ridden with mosquitos, is a beautiful little hippy place.  I'll write all about the last three days in the morning.  But for now, I am writing because I am sick.  And it hurts.  

I have been doing the opposite of being careful with what I eat down here.  I have been careless, tempting fate every chance I get.  Ceviche of all varieties, fruits out of the mercado, juices made from small town water - you name it.  And somewhere along the way over the past couple of days, I found something that is haunting me.  It started yesterday with bad stomach cramps.  This morning, it turned to diarrhea and nausea.  Then this afternoon, the fever hit.  Accompanied by cold sweats and serious body aches, it has pretty much knocked me down.  Faced this morning with the question of going north or south on a bus, I now have no option.  

So my body hurts.  Everywhere.  If it weren't for the stomach cramps, it would feel like the onset of dengue.  But I know it's just the fever causing the pain, and the fever is surely related to whatever is happening in my stomach.  In a way, this buys me some time alone.  I've been spending the last three days with a very cool new friend, who took off for Lima tonight, and haven't spent any time with myself.  And so, like the yellow fever vaccination, this illness allows me to see an opportunity at the same time it forces me into it.    

And so I will lay here tonight, perhaps blog if I can not sleep, but likely stare at the swarm of mosquitos above me looking for any opportunity at exposed skin, thinking about which way the bus might take me tomorrow.  Torn between north and south, solo or with a friend.  Tonight, though, as usual, the decision was was in the hands of the universe, not mine.  

Banos to Alausi

On the road to Alausi. 

Hostel Panamericano Detail

The morning after our excellent bike ride, I hiked up the mountain next to Banos to get a great view from a lookout point called Bellavista.  The hike was a little much after the exertion the day before towing that crazy Australian damn near to Amazonia, and my back has been really bothering me since.  But that's no matter.  

We, being Alex, Ferne, and myself, representing three continents of English speaking countries, headed south a couple-three hours (thanks to Maine for the term "couple-three") to a city called Riobamba, which may be the fourth largest city in Ecuador, for all you know.  Our intention was to catch a train to a magical place called El Nariz del Diablo, or "Candy Mountain" in English.  All the guide books mention it, and for good reason.  It's the only interesting thing about Riobamba.  And it's not that interesting.  As it turned out, though, they were sold out from Riobamba, which was good news, because it meant we didn't have to stay there.  

And MORE good news... we could catch a train to the same magic Candy Mountain from a much closer and cheaper spot in Alausi.  And so we had a quick bite to eat and headed back to the bus station for another couple-three hours to Alausi.  

Side note:  On the train to Alausi, the bus stopped for a couple of dozen traditionally dressed Ecuadorians to board the bus and crowd the aisles.  The women still wear the clothing you see in the pictures; I was amazed!  Hats of varying styles.  Four or five layers on top, covered with a very brightly colored shawl.  Half a dozen skirts, with an equally brightly colored top skirt, sometimes with some lacy stuff towards the bottom.  And crazy wool socks pulled up to the knees.  But here's the thing, and I mean no disrespect; they smelled of rotten-onion trout.  I didn't even know rotten-onion trouts existed until I smelled them, and I kid you not, I am still smelling it today.  But I digress.  

After quickly finding perhaps the most meager accommodations I have ever had the pleasure of paying good money to lay my head in (and yet still considerably better than the house I lived in for the past 10 months), we toured Alausi in the dark, assuming we would be leaving the next day after our train treat.  And as it turns out, Alausi is absolutely beautiful.  I can not describe how magical the town park and church are after sunset in this 5000 person Andean gem (do I sound like a guidebook yet?).  I'll include a picture here so you can describe it yourself.  The whole town is magical, though, from the cobblestone streets, to the $2 big ass breakfasts, to the mix of traditional and modern dress and customs, to the old western movie style train station and balcony doors, to the gigantic statue of San Pedro, the patron saint of patron saints.  

Boys around the age of 7 to 9 run the streets covered in soot asking REPEATEDLY to shine your shoes.  I named one Pedro, and he and I had a great conversation consisting of him starting with "Something in Spanish that probably means shoe shine", and my response of "No gracias."  And then repeat.  Not a dozen times, but hundreds.  Eventually, we cracked little Pedro, and his smile beamed.  He enjoyed the game enough to bring friends back the next morning, and we finally cracked and gave them a dime or several to pose for the picture shown here.  Pedro is the one with his arms around two other boys.  Love those little guys.  Taught them to say "dirty shoes" in English.  Best of luck my friends.  

So we went and saw the Devil's Nose on a train.  Meh.  At it's best.  If you've done everything else in Ecuador and have lost your passport and therefore can not leave, you should do the train ride to Devil's Nose.  Or just lay on the tracks and wait for the train... that may be better.  

Afterward, we decided to drink our dinner in our penthouse, which was fun, and left us with nice little hangovers for the next day when I, again, changed my mind last minute and decided to head south to Cuenca, instead of out to the Ecuadorian beaches to the west, keeping the Three Amigos together for at least a few more hours, and seriously testing my cash reserves.  At the time of boarding, I had no idea where I would go from Cuenca, but Peru was weighing heavily on my mind.  So - close - to - Peru.  Must - go - to - Peru.  Doesn't that make it sound heavy?  I won't tell you how this turned out, but I'll give you a little teaser...  Da-da-da-da!!!  I'm in Peru!  But you knew that already.  Because I want my next blog to be about my trip to Peru and my first day here, I'm going to skip Cuenca with just this... Absolutely beautiful.  I don't like big cities, but if you are going to go to one, go to Cuenca (Ecuador's third largest city, as far as you know).  But avoid the burgers from this point south.  

Tomorrow's blog - PERU!  Neat.  Am I the only one excited about this?  Oh, don't get your hopes up; I'm still in the range of 40ish hours from Machu Pichu, and don't even have the money for the bus to get there and back.  

Right Now - 23/8/09 5:50 PM

Just a quick note - Peru is beautiful.  I'm at a sweet little hippy hostel right on the beach on the North coast.  It happens to have WiFi, so I'll blog tonight about the last few days of adventure.  Life is wonderful.  Can't find my razor.  

Right Now 22 Aug 2009 717 PM

I´m sitting in a little internet shop in Cuenca, Ecuador´s third largest city. I just arrived here by bus this afternoon, and plan on leaving tonight. The city is absolutely fantastic, and I would have very much liked to have stayed, but have already bought my next ticket when I was at the terminal earlier.

I´ve had an absolutely wonderful few days. I honestly feel great. I´ve been joyful the vast majority of the time, laughing at things that aren´t funny, smiling frequently at nothing at all. Just smiling.

Right now, my back is killing me. After the bike ride and then hike the following morning, which I will blog about soon, my disc started acting up again. But I feel physically excellent. I have quit smoking. I did cheat and have two cigarettes, but only two in the past week or more. I haven´t been drinking much, likely due to the lack of money. I feel strong.

I did start running into some intellectual questions about this spiritual path I seem to be on. They´re not really new, but I think that they are hitting me in a new way. I wrote this in my journal the other day...

... I feel a little lost today. Where´s the meaning? Where´s the purpose? If I´m measnt to live in the present, why? Why be happy? How do we accept the end? Or is there no end? And if there is no end, what goal could we have? Ease suffering? Why? Suffering is in the mind, so perhaps we kill the mind? And if we do that, why not kill our bodies too? Even if it was all to get to heaven, or to our lotus leaf, why? What´s there? If we wase all the suffering, then what? Then there´s no suffering to ease. If I haven´t found heaven, how can I say it´s better than hell? Haven´t people claimed to have seen heaven and chosen to return to hell?

Looking back, that passage seems really depressing. But I wasn´t at all depressed, nor am I now. My mind has just taken a step back and wonders why we would ever prefer to be in heaven, where there is no longer purpose. At least when we are in hell, we can have a purpose to get to heaven, or at least to get some AC or some ice cream or something. When you reach the top, which may be where I am going, or where I already am and don´t realize it fully yet, why go on? Does feeing joy and love ever get boring? Does numbing ourselves to our human condition really lead to something better than the hell we are in? If we´re on a rollercoaster and are fully aware, we recognize that the odds of being hurt are ridiculously slim, but if we choose to be blind, we can enjoy the fear and adrenaline from the climbs and falls. Does awareness really lead to something greater?

In the end, I guess there is only one way to find out. And I guess it gives me purpose. And that´s good enough for me.

I´ve started reading the New Testament. Surprisingly, it didn´t catch fire in my hands, nor have I been struck by lightening more than normal. I find the first few chapters of Matthew very much in line with my understanding of my spirituality these days. He argues against worrying about human needs, and instead find spirituality and human needs will be taken care of by themselves. He warns against thought, even. But then Jesus seems to get a little mean and starts threatening people if they don´t follow his lead. And I´m not sure I buy all of his miracles. I´ll write more about it as we go along.

By the way... I don´t quite know how to say this. I don´t really feel bad about it, because I think it was the Gideon´s intention, really, but I stole the Gideon bible from the hostel I stayed in for two nights in Alausi. I can just imagine me getting to the pearly gates, or whatever there is at the entrance to heaven, and God saying something to the effect of, ¨Seriously? You stole the BIBLE! You stole the freakin book in which I told you NOT to steal. No, you can not come in here. Jeezy Creezy, get over here! Get this guy.¨ And of course, Jesus would reply, ¨Stop calling me that! You know I hate it when you call me that.¨ And I guess I´d probably just take a picture and move on. Perhaps it´s for the best.

Did I steal that Jeezy Creezy bit from a Brittish executive transvestite comedian? Man, I gotta stop jacking stuff before it becomes a habit!

Biking Banos to Puyo

Okay, I had an absolutely incredible day today.  First, I woke up, as I had planned.  EXACTLY as I had planned.  I'm not as flaky as I thought.  

Following waking up, I had a steam bath.  This is pretty funny.  For $2.75, you get taken into the steam bath area next to the rooftop terrace.  It's all enclosed, with several small rooms.  You are placed in a wooden box, where you sit and a cover is slid on to the top, with only a small hole for your next to fit through.  And then it gets HOT.  And WET.  You sit there for a few minutes, and just as you're about to pass out, they take you out, and you soak a towel in a bowl being fed by a stream of frigid water for a second before running it up your right side.  Then left.  Then center.  Then right.  Then left.  Then back.  Super cold.  Then repeat.  In one of the repetitions, you replace the toweling with siting down in a running bath of frigid water and rub your abdomen in a circular direction with two fingers for a few minutes.  At the end, you are sprayed off (right side first again) with a hose like a jailor might do to a new inmate.  

It actually felt wonderful.  After that and some delicious breakfast, I bought a pair of socks (that makes two pairs, which is better than one), a plastic poncho, and some water, and headed on a biking voyage through the mountains with Alex, from London, who is now a good friend, and Ferne, from Australia, who is also now a good friend.  It was SPECTACULAR.  Here are some of the pics.  The waterfalls were gorgeous, and the views unparalleled.  After 25 kilometers, though, Alex's chain broke.  So, I bought a five foot piece of rope off of some guy in a nearby house for 50 cents, and tied a lead from my bike to his.  We put Ferne on the bike at the end of the rope, and I towed her to some of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen.  After another 25 km, though, I was dead.  My legs just wouldn't work anymore.  So we had a beer overlooking yet another spectacular section of the river as the sun set, and then caught a bus passing by on the way back to Banos.  

Honestly, it was one of the most wonderful experiences I have ever had.  Again, full of laughs, smiles, and at least for me, love.  I think I'll wake up tomorrow too.  

Banos

Wow.  Been cool.  First, some parting things on Colombia, about things I found neat in Colombia:

• There are armed guards at all the bridges.  That doesn't make me feel safer.  
• You have to wear a vest with your license plate number in huge lettering when you ride on a motorcycle.  They say it's because the FARC and Narcs used to kill people while on motorcycles and nobody could get their license numbers.  Interesting.  
• They love billiards up there.  Tons of pool tables.  Even a little pool hall in the bus station in Bogota.  
• On the bus, there's a digital readout of the speed of the bus where everyone can see.  When it's below 80 m/h, it's green.  Above 80, it turns red.  Above 100, it just says "Alerta, Alerta, Alerta."  That's not really about Colombia, but it was neat.  

Okay, on to the bus ride.  First, a 23 hour bus ride from Bogota to the border town of Ipeales.  That's a long bus ride.  But it was awesome.  I met a totally cool French girl in the Bogota bus station who was also heading towards the border.  Julie has been traveling around the world for the past year, and was heading to Colombia from LA to meet up with some friends from France when she heard that they were still in Ecuador.  So, she was taking a bus from Bogota to meet them in a cool town called Banos, a few hours south of Quito.  By the time we were at the border, we were great friends, and she invited me to come to Banos.  And so I did.  

But on the bus!  GOD did I feel love.  Smiling and laughing randomly as I stared at the countryside.  Even freezing in the middle of the night, I was elated.  And I still feel it.  I sat next to a Ecuadorian from Quito named David, who at one point tried (of course in Spanish) to start converting me to Christianity.  He's a Jehovah's Witness, it turns out.  Later over breakfast, he warned me not to accept drinks or candy from strangers.  That made sense, as they could drug me and rob me of my enormous wealth, but what HE was warning about was them drugging me and robbing me of my LIVER.  And kidneys.  And corneas!  Yeah!  He was sure to let me know that the going rate for a cornea is $20,000 or $30,000 US.  Which is good news!  I'm almost out of money and my corneas are in really good condition.  

So, at another point on the first bus, get this situation... An American (me!) living in Costa Rica sharing some Johnny Walker Blue Label scotch and some conversation in Spanish with a Pakistani living in Paraguay on a bus from Colombia to Ecuador.  How international is THAT?  Very.  That's how.  

So, we got to Ecaudor.  After 22 hours on a bus and a short taxi/collectivo ride.  See picture.  Crossed the border.  Had a good conversation with a border guard checking my bag about two dollar bills.  He was fascinated because a) they freaking use US dollars here (who freaking knew); b) they do not have two dollar bills; and c) he had recently seen one on display somewhere.  He thought it was funny.  We laughed about something.  

Then I got in another taxi/collectivo to the next town, and was just able to get a half chicken to split with Julie before rushing to the next bus that was leaving for Quito.  In THAT bus, nothing exciting happened, really.  Just 5.5 hours or so of Ecuador.  Some good laughing with Julie, a quick view of a wall and some identical buildings in Quito.  We planned to stay at a hostel near the bus station in Quito. 

But as it turns out!  That bus station "no funciona."  It no longer exists as a bus station.  So we went to a new one, that is NOT in the guide book I bought online with mom's credit card.  And it's a long way from pretty much everything.  SO, we got there and a) realized that Ecuadorians generally view South as up, which is why I was so confused talking with David on the bus about the layout of Quito; and b) a bus leaves in 10 minutes to Banos, and we can even have time to buy four beers if we really hurry.  And so we did.  

And finally, at 2AM, 33 hours after I left Bogota, a bus dropped me and Julie off in the dark, on a street, next to what they called a bus station, in a town I'd never been to, in a country I've only taken a few steps in, where it smells like pee (a dog in the cargo hold peed on Julie's bag - not kidding), with nobody on the streets, and without a place to go.  I was on high alert.  Thank god I know ninja.  

There were three hostel signs within view in this 13,000 person town.  Two had big gates shut on the entrance door.  One had three hoodlum looking 15 year old kids in the entrance.  We went for that one.  Turns out they had a room with two beds for $15 - hot water and even a TV.  Perfect.  We crashed.  In the Hostel Don Diego.  It wasn't pretty, and the street was loud with trucks, but I was able to lay vertical and stretch out.  Awesome.  

The next morning we went in search of her friends, who were rumored to be staying at a place called Plantas y Blanco.  So we set out.   The town is only about 10 blocks by 10 blocks.  It's neat.  Plantas y Blanco was only about 7 blocks away.  We found it, they had two beds in a dorm with four other beds and a shared bath.  Cool.  The friends weren't here, but they had been.  

Okay, this is getting long, so I'll bullet:

• Found friends (three French girls), who had found another friend in the jungle (Alex from London).  
• Ate delicious lunch. 
• Went to hot springs bath.  Back and forth between freaking hot mineral baths filled with Ecuadorians and freezing cold shower from beautiful waterfall that I'm looking at now. 
• Delicious pizza for dinner on the brick sidewalk by the center park in front of the church.  Beautiful. 
• Looking from the hostel's rooftop terrace, I saw two boys, perhaps 9 and 11, pee on the street.  And when I say on the street, I mean ON the street.  In the middle of it.  Just stopped in their tracks, whipped it out, and peed in the middle of an intersection about 10 feet apart.  It seemed natural.  Later I saw a guy peeing on a building right by a crowded street.  Sober. Apparently that's in.  
• Meet up for drinks, pool, dancing with another new friend, Jenny, also from London.  Four crazy French girls, a cool young London girl, Alex, Brian, and a slew of others from Spain, Chicago, Switzerland, and of course Ecuador, doing tequila shots and drinking oversized beers while concentrating on the longest games of pool on a tilted table in Ecuador.  Neat.  
• Drunk.  Late.  Night.  Security guard.  Street corner.  Top bunk.  
• I had planned on going either white water rafting or mountain biking today.  But didn't.  
• Excellent conversation with an Aussie who just came over from Venezuela about the spirituality and socialism.  Good timing after just finishing the Celestine Prophecy.  

This town is absolutely awesome.  Hot springs.  Jungle.  Biking.  Bungee.  White water rafting.  TONS of hostels, backpackers, awesomeness.  You should definitely stop by.  If you're in the neighborhood.  

Oh, so the Celestine Prophecy is all about coincidences, and get this.  Five pages before the end of the book, a character exclaims "Onward and Upward!"  Now THAT is strange (read my last blog).  Still don't really know what that means.  

Tomorrow, I plan on waking up.