steve_sara's TravelStream™ — Recent TravelPod.com entries

steve_sara's TravelStream™ — Recent TravelPod.com entries TravelStream™ news feed for member steve_sara on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/steve_sara en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Fri, 28 Sep 2007 22:28:07 -0400 http://www.travelpod.com Final thoughts — Bogota, Colombia http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/steve_sara/southamerica/1188497340/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/steve_sara/southamerica/1188497340/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/steve_sara/southamerica/1188497340/tpod.html Fri, 28 Sep 2007 22:28:07 -0400 DOS GRINGOS EN SUDAMERICA

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Bogota, Colombia

Now that we're not at some shady internet cafe and instead in the comfort of our new apartment, Steve has given up on any kind of ending to this blog. I'm hoping that we don't have to tell the same stories over and over, so here's a summary of our best and worst in South America.BEST MOMENTS Place: The amazing Galapagos Islands and finally seeing Machu Picchu after hours of pouring rainCultural Experience: Being the only tourists at the Copa America semi-final in VenezuelaMost adventurous: Paragliding (Sara), Canyoning (Steve)Best beach: Playa Medina in Venezuela... paradiseBest interview: Steve saying live on Argentinian radio that Al Gore invented the InternetBest sunset: The "fire in the sky" on the Bolivian Salt FlatsBest present: Flying over Rio in a helicopter Best restaurant meal: El Mirasol in Buenos Aires, Argentina (huge steaks with great sauces like peppercorn or mushrooms)Best homecooked meal: Shrimp moqueca by Victor's mom in Maceio, BrazilBest wine: Ruca Malen Malbec from Mendoza, ArgentinaBest beer: Skol from BrazilWORST MOMENTS Place: Stuck in Guiria, Venezuela after not getting on ferry to Trinidad and TobagoFood: Steve's beans and fruit juice meal in Ecuador that chipped his tooth and made him sick for a weekHealth: See above. Also Steve's big toenails that both died and fell off (gross) Most embarrassing: Riding up Colca Canyon on a mule (Sara), getting ready to be frisked by Colombian military, only to find out they only pat down men (Sara) Scariest: Arriving in Puerto La Cruz in Venezuela at 3am, many hours earlier than expected, and waiting until dawn outside the police office at the bus stationStolen: Realization that someone stole my iPod, realization that someone managed to steal Scott's bag from under his chair at an empty restaurantBiggest disappointment: Lake Titicaca in Puno, Peru... the floating islands were way too touristyMost uncomfortable: A woman trying to sell us a hike to Machu Picchu starts to openly breastfeed her baby, while still talking to us and trying to look us in the eye. We didn't know where to look. FOOD Food that I'll miss most at home: Bife de chorizoRunner-ups: Fresh exotic fruit juice, roasted chickenFood that I love here that I won't miss at home: McDonald'sPopular food at home that you should be able to find here: Peanut butterPopular food here that you should be able to find at home: Dulce de leche (caramel-like spread, great on desserts, we bought 3 tubs to take home but they were confiscated at the airport by guards who claimed they were "liquids" and therefore banned from our carry-ons)Food that I want to eat right now: Thai, Vietnamese, Japanese. If in Windsor, Penalty Box's Chicken Delight.Food that I don't want to eat in the near future: Rice & beans with mystery meatONLY IN SOUTH AMERICA Common occurences here that I won't miss at home: - Hostel owner says: "Yes, we have hot water, 24-7"... Sure you do!- Throwing your toilet paper in the garbage- Having to carry around your own toilet paper- Remembering to take the toilet paper from every hostel, since you never know you might or might not have it- Frequent black-outs in small towns- Stray dogs all over the place- People can't understand you if you don't pronounce a word exactly as they do. Example: At this restaurant, I give the waitress a Canadian pin to give to her daughter. Me: From Canada. Her: (blank stare) Me: Canada. Her: ?? Me: The country? Canada? Her: Canad-A! Si!STEVE & SARA Things Steve envies about Sara: Ability to fall asleep on command on buses, sense of directionThings Sara envies about Steve: Ability to repel mosquitoes, instant conversational ability by talking about the country's famous athletes Most annoying thing about Steve: MoodyMost annoying thing about Sara: Indecisive Most useful thing in our backpacks: Packing cubes keep Sara organized, small flashlights allowed us to hike up Machu Picchu in the darkMost useless thing in our backpacks: Travel insurance (thankfully, only needed once for the stolen iPod) But provided peace of mind for our parentsAmount Sara spent on souvenirs/gifts: Hundreds of dollars... I don't want to add it up right now since I am brokeAmount Steve spent: Considerably lessNumbers of phone calls home: Sara - 4, Steve - 4 (we did email frequently)BLOGWho spent the most time writing: SteveWho spent the most time editing/layout: SaraWhich of our "readers" posted the most: Jarrett DeckerHonourable mention: Sean Smith ANIMALS Favourites: Penguins in the Galapagos, Alpacas in Peru, Caymans in Ibera in ArgentinaLeast favourite: Seen one carpincha, seen them all (I like my carpincha wallet, though)The most illegal: A man in Cartagena carrying around a sloth, and allows you to take pictures with him(for money, of course)TRAVELLERS We met the most people from.... England We really liked people from... Belgium and Denmark Didn't really like the people from... Can't do it. Don't want the hate mail.People we bumped into the most by fluke: A couple from Belgium that we met at 5 different points in Peru and Bolivia, including the Bolivian jungleWEATHER Hottest place: Manaus, Brazil... jump-off point to the Amazon. It was a sweat-dripper.Coldest place: Night 2 of the Bolivian Salt Flats tour... the coldest that I've been in my entire life. Steve was also freezing, amazing considering that he's from North of 56. Worst weather: Pouring rain the morning we hiked up Machu PicchuTOWNS Every town has: A Plaza Bolivar and a Hostel FamiliarCheapest hostel: Posada Don Chilo, Rio Caribe, Venezuela - $5 a night, and it wasn't the worst room we've been inMost expensive hostel: Cartagena, Colombia (Thanks Washington!)Funniest bar: Barney Gomez Bar in Salta, Argentina Most interesting town: El Congo, where all the homes are on stilts in the water, in the middle of nowhereLeast interesting town: Ciuidad Bolivar, Venezuela - the town that completely shut down at 5pm, including restaurantsMost security: Crossing from Chile into Argentina. Our bus was searching, our bags removed from the bus, searched with us standing beside them and then searched again by a sniffer dog. Steve took a picture and was reprimanded in Spanish and told to delete the photoMUSICMost frequently heard Spanish band: ManaMost frequently heard English band: James Blunt (god he sucks)Sara can't believe: I heard my all-time favourite song - Bryan Adams' Everything I Do - almost every single day, in English OR SpanishDISASTERS Places that we visited that have since had disasters:1) Riobamba, Ecuador - 2 tourists died on top of the train2) Ica, Peru - recent earthquake killed over 400 people3) Huacachina, Peru - 2 tourists killed in sand dunebuggy accident in August4) TAM airlines, Brazil - flight from Sao Paolo crashes while landing, worst plane crash in Brazilian history (We flew this airline several times, though didn't go through Sao Paolo)OVERALL... Country we visited that we'd return to: Colombia (anytime), Brazil (World Cup 2010 for Steve), Argentina (as an adult)Country we missed that we'd come back for: ChileLeast touristy country, in a good way: ColombiaLeast touristy country, in a bad way: VenezuelaIf I were a travel agent, I'd send you to: ArgentinaIf I were to let you in on a secret, I would send you to: San Augustin, ColombiaMOST OF ALL.... Thanks to our gracious and friendly hosts in Colombia - Manuel and Laura for putting us up, Rafa for showing us a good party, their mom for her great cooking, Laura for putting up with our spanish, and all of their friends. Also thanks to Hector in Bogota, it was great to see him in Colombia instead of at Carleton!Our hosts in Brazil - Victor and Gabriela for showing us the best of Brazil's beaches and seafood, Victor's family for putting us up in their beautiful penthouse and his mom for cooking us some great Brazilian dishes!We had our best experiences and best food when we were shown the place by locals. You are all always welcome in Canada! Lastly, thanks to Joyce and Scott for visiting us in Argentina. Especially to Joyce, who allowed my lifestyle to improve with nicer hotels and loads of good food and wine! I already miss the constant sense of excitement and feeling that if you don't like something, move on. If you like it, stay. It was weird to have all of my possessions out of storage and not have everything I need in one backpack. I guess the plus side is now we are much better dressed! Well, I am, anyway.I'm looking forward to seeing everyone, and I promise not to steal your toilet paper.Thanks for reading,sara & steve
]]> Ciudad Perdida — Santa Marta, Colombia http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/steve_sara/southamerica/1186856040/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/steve_sara/southamerica/1186856040/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/steve_sara/southamerica/1186856040/tpod.html Sun, 23 Sep 2007 22:05:05 -0400 DOS GRINGOS EN SUDAMERICA

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Santa Marta, Colombia

SARA SAYS...Steve has described me as Sara "There's trekking in South America?" Brunetti. It's true that my favourite vacation activity in lying on a beach, so I'm still not sure how Steve managed to talk me into a 6-day trek to Ciudad Perdida, aka "The Lost City". The drawbacks: Lots and lots of walking, mainly uphillIt's rainy season, meaning clothes will get wet and stay wetMy running shoes are somewhere in VenezuelaMust carry all belongings needed for 6 days on my backGuide books advise "extreme caution" since 8 tourists were kidnapped in 2003I thought our (alternative) Inca Trail trek was hard and it was only 4 daysDid I mention a lot of walking?The incentives:Only a few weeks of the trip left, so must make the most of themAlready skipped Mount Roraima trek, to Steve's dismay (but I'm still happy about skipping it once I heard that you had to poop into plastic bags)Shut Steve up about how lazy I am, hopefully not inspiring a sequel to "Sara's Diary"Off-the-beaten path attraction... Ciudad Perdida has been to compared to Machu Picchu, except without the touristsSo you may be asking, what is Ciudad Perdida? According to the Lonely Planet..."Ciudad Perdida, aka Lost City, was built between the 11th and 14th centuries and is one of the largest pre-Columbian towns discovered in the Americas. There are about 150 stone terraces, which once served as foundations for houses. It's hidden deep in thick forest amid rugged mountains, far from any access roads - the return hike to the city takes six days.Although the city was built between the 11th and 14th centuries, its origins are much older, going back to perhaps the 7th century. Spread over an area of about 2 sq km, it is the largest Tayrona city found so far, and appears to have been their major political and economic center. Some 2000 to 4000 people are believed to have lived here.During the Conquest, the Spaniards wiped out the Tayronas, and their settlements disappeared without a trace under lush tropical vegetation. Ciudad Perdida lay hidden for four centuries, until its discovery by guaqueros (treasure hunters) in 1975."OK... a lost city, rugged mountains, newly discovered... sounds pretty cool. I tell Steve that I'll think about it.PRE-TREKWe arrive in Santa Marta late in the afternoon, after a hellish two-day journey from Merida, Venezuela. We decide to take a tourist bus over the Venezuela-Colombian border to prevent any hassles, even though it costs much more than we had anticipated. We're guaranteed that we will stay on the same bus, but instead, we're hussled off the bus with our belongings into an old car, driven over the border, and put on a local bus in Colombia. We could have done that ourselves for much cheaper and I wouldn't have lost my running shoes in the process.I'm still up in the air about doing the trek, so we go to Turcol travel agency (the only agency that runs the tours to Ciudad Perdida) to see when the next tour leaves. We are told tomorrow, and given the impression that they don't go every day. It's 5:30pm and she need to know if we're going in the next half hour. I can tell that Steve really wants to go and if we're going to do it, I want to get it over with asap so I can hit the beach asap. We quickly buy the most expensive shoes that we can find for me in Santa Marta, and sign up for the tour.DAY 1: A JEEP RIDE & 4 HOURS UPHILLOne of the many reasons that I don't enjoy trekking is that you must keep up with the group so that you're not stranded in the jungle. And generally speaking, I am usually the slowest of the group, huffing and puffing at the back. I joke to Steve that I would like a grandma or two in our group, so I won't be the only one struggling.To my surprise, when we show up the next morning, we are paired with Martin from Switzerland and the entire Ortiz family, originally from Colombia and now living in NYC. Their family includes two teenage boys, mother, father, two teenage cousins, father's cousin and family friend. Fatima, the family friend, tells me immediately that she's 57. Eliza, the mother, tells me that she was talked into this and doesn't like walking either. My prayers have been answered!We embark on a jeep ride to starting point. It's a strange-looking vehicle and Steve and I keep bumping our heads on the roof as we bounce along the unpaved road. We're in pain and we haven't even started yet...We pass a military checkpoint up in the woods, where our driver presents a list of our names and passport information. Some of the guys look very young and all are carrying massive guns. One is even carrying the biggest gun that I've ever seen in real life, but we don't dare take a photo.A weary group of tourists who have just finished the trek are waiting for us at the starting point. They are dirty, smelly, ravaged by mosquitoes and obviously drained of any energy. "It's worth it," they all say but there is an underlying fatigue that lends a false air to their enthusiasm. You can tell they are all glad that it's over.We begin our walking. Steve and I stroll along, enjoying the fresh air and a few river crossings. Until we hit test number one, an uphill hour or so where I remember exactly why I HATE trekking. I immediately give Steve my backpack to carry and keep going with my philosophy of "slow and steady, just don't stop". When I try to explain this to our guide Miguel in Spanish, he says "mas rapido?", as in "you want to go faster?" No, I just don't want to stop. I am slightly mollified by the fact that I am in the middle of the pack.We arrive at Camp #1, where we sleep in the best hammocks so far. I find out that the "clean water" that we're being provided with for our water bottles is from the river. I really hope that I make it through this trip without getting sick. DAY 2: 4 MORE HOURS, REALLY 6 FOR OUR GROUPRise and shine. We find out later that the other group visited a cocaine factory in the morning (which they said was disappointing) but our group is strictly pg13. We spend the whole morning walking, climbing, walking through mud. It's hot and we take advantage of every watering hole we find. I become less picky about drinking the water from the river. Steve's so hot he sheds his clothes at one such watering hole, a bathing beauty (foreshadowing more nudity to come). Otherwise, not too much excitement until we reach Camp #2, where I head for the shower and the boys in our group immediately go for a swim in the river. After my shower, I walk down there with my camera... only to see that Eliza the mother is crying and her older son Carlito is stranded on the other side of the river. Turns out he and another guy jumped off a rock and swam to the other side, but the current is too strong to swim back. What makes it really funny is that the other guy is buck naked. He didn't want to lose his boxers so he'd taken them off while he went for a dip, never thinking he could get stuck for over a half hour while the guides struggled to set up a guide rope to hold onto. So you have Carlito (totally calm), his mother (visibly upset), a naked guy (holding his hands over his nuts), guides (trying repeatedly to throw rope to one another) and a bunch of onlookers on the other side (sensing some danger but mostly watching with amusement, especially the naked guy). Once the rope is set up, there is no problem crossing back to the right side. Mother and son are reunited, naked engish boy gets his shorts back, mother berates guides for letting underage son participate... life is good.It wasn't until the excitement is over that I realize that for the first time on this trip, Steve acted sensibly. When I told him that I was surprised to see him on this side watching instead of being stranded on the other, Steve called it "a moment of clarity and good sense". Wish he had those more often. DAY 3: A WHOLE LOT OF STAIRS... 1,300 IF YOU'RE COUNTING We begin the day with a bit of rock climbing. We walk along a small ledge with a solid rock wall to one side and the edge of the cliff on the other. It has been raining so the ledge is muddy and seems to be getting smaller by the minute. We arrive at the water's edge to see the other group just finishing wading across the water. Our group is extra cautious after yesterday's mishap, so we cross by cable car. Unlike in Peru, you don't have to pull yourself along and it's about a third of the length. I'm like an old veteran of cable cars, this one is no problem!We begin the real walk, more uphill with lots of rocks in the way. I notice on the way up that the sole of my cheap shoe is starting to separate from the body of the shoe. I also notice that Carlos, the father of the family, has two pairs of running shoes hanging from his bag. When I ask if these are indeed extra shoes, he says yes and would I like to borrow them? I feel bad and decide to wait until the shoes actually fall apart. This happens just one hour later. I put on the shoes, prepared to walk for the next three days with shoes that don't fit, but lo and behold, they fit absolutely perfectly. I am meant to be in this group. No backpacker would have an extra pair of shoes and even if they did, they would hesitate to lend them to you. Someone is definitely looking out for me. Thanks again, Carlos!I am extra cautious as we approach the river, which we are apparently going to cross 9 times today. At the first top, I take off the shoes, take off my pants and gingerly cross the river in my bathing suit. At the same time, another group returning from the trek emerges from the woods and stomps through the river, clothes and shoes and all. It's obvious that they know something we don't.From then on, we embark on one river crossing after another. So far, my experience has been limited to: jumping across stones, balancing on a log, crossing on a brokedown-looking bridge, or using a cable car. Because of the strong current in these rivers, this time the guides tie rope on either side and we hold the rope tightly as we fight to move against the current. This is a first for me, and it's a lot harder than it seems. The guides stand right behind us so we don't get pulled away by the current. In my case, they even carry my bag so it doesn't get soaked as I get pulled backwards. In cases where no rope is required but it's still tricky walking in the river, they even hold my hand. What gentlemen. Steve waits behind me to take pictures in the hopes that I loose my balance and fall in the river. What a gentleman. We finally stop for a bite to eat after hours of walking, just as the sky is starting to cloud over. We're told we've reached the bottom of the Lost City, it's just an hour walk straight uphill on ancient stone steps. 1300 stone steps, to be exact. I tell Steve to go ahead, and I'll finish at my own pace. Natalia and I attack the steps my way, slow and steady. I count the steps as I go, and realize that this won't be as bad as I thought. That is, until the sky opens up and we are soaked to the skin in minutes.It's reminds me of our Machu Picchu climb, but this one is even more remote. The steps are narrow, we're pushing water off our faces and as we emerge from the path, we can see round platforms made of stone foundations. We meet another guy who asks us if we know where we're going. Me: "Up?"We realize we are at the start of the Lost City. As we continue to climb, we see more of these foundations and eventually, we reach a massive one that we're told was the city centre. It is eerie and really cool to be standing in the pouring rain as we imagine this place as it once was. At one point, I hear a huge clap of thunder, probably the loudest I've ever heard in my life.Next we're taken to our camp. The rain means that the water crossing has flooded and we're basically walking over the top of a waterfall to our camp. Steve is already there, watching the rain from our remote camp, which is completely surrounded by trees. We're sharing this camp with more people than we imagined, but we enjoy the atmosphere regardless. DAY 4: CIUDAD PERDIDAI should have saved that paragraph on the history of the Lost City for this part, because even though we had an excellent guide, all I know is that it was a major commercial centre for the Tayronas way back when, thriving on trade between the tribes located at the bottom of the river. When the Spaniards came, they were impressed with how advanced their trade system was and realized that to conquer the Tayronas, they would need to cripple it. They did this by forbidding the lower tribes from trading with the Tayronas. Cut off from the outside world, they eventually heard about the Spaniards and fled to the surrounding forest. As a result, the Spanish never explored Ciudad Perdida and didn't have the chance to swipe all its valuables. Two feuding graverobbing brothers found the site in the 1970s and long story short, eventually had a fight to the death. The one brother who survived began selling antiquities on the black market, attracting the attention of the Colombian government, who sent their own team of archeologists to protect the site. Our guide was among those who spent years at Ciudad Perdida, so he knew every nook and cranny. We would have liked to see more but as usual, it started pouring around 2pm so we were marooned in our small camp on the hill. We played Steve's "weed" card game with the two teenagers in our group, I'm sure much to the delight of their parents. We enjoyed a silent lightning show in the evening... wait, didn't we pay lots of money in Venezuela to see that apparently "unique" experience? DAY 5: THE MOST I'VE EVER WALKED IN ONE DAY We got up early to get a headstart on this day, billed as the hardest day of walking and disappointing because you've already reached your destination and this is just the crappy part of walking back. Today, we'll cover the ground of day 2 and day 3. After a slow descent down the 1,300 steps (almost harder coming down than going up, because they're so narrow and slippery), we cross the river. Because the current is strong, we take a path through the woods, instead of crossing the river 9x again. It was like rock climbing... way up, way down, river crossings, etc. Steve says it was the most exciting part of the entire walk. I say it was the hardest walking that I've ever done in my whole life. Not for the first time, I wonder how the older ladies in our group can handle this. They are at the back of the group, but not too far behind. As we cross the river for the last time, I take a look down at Carlos' shoes - they are soaked and really filty. I'll bet when he lent me his shoes, he never expected they would get treated like this!The walk back to camp #2, where we will have lunch, is marked by two events - the guides obviously felt sorry for me because as we approached another one-hour uphill session, they offered to carry my bag. This was a bonus for Steve. And I actually passed someone as we were walking - two girls and their guide. The girls looked completely miserable, while I was buoyed by the fact that we were progressing towards the end.After lunch, the daily rain started. Unfortunately for us, it was just as strong as the downpour at Ciudad Perdida, but we had another 4 hours of walking to go. Steve had his usual "business" to take care of at the camp, so he was late joining up with the group. I was worried that he would get lost because the path was immediately flooded over, turning some river crossings into waterfalls. But the navigational genius found his way.The rain contributed to some miserable walking that afternoon. Even after it stopped, it had turned the path into a mess of mud. We climbed up muddy hills, we struggled not to slip down muddy declines. As Steve and I guided ourselves back to the camp, we questioned ourselves at several points, but after a seemingly endless walk, stumbled upon the same lady from the beginning of the trip selling snacks. Steve and I both bought a coke, a taste of pure heaven after five days of drinking river water.I thought we were finally down, but she told us we had another 45 minutes to go. It was approaching sunset, so we walked quickly. Just as darkness arrived, we had one last river crossing and finally, finally, we were at the camp.The young kids were already there. To our surprise, so was one of the older ladies - she had hired a mule. I was proud of myself that I didn't have to hire a mule, like I did in Colca Canyon in Peru. (Steve had brought some money with us, just in case, but now we were able to be more generous with tips, since the guides carried my bag so much). The final three members of our group came in about a half hour after us, by then it was pitch black. It was the longest day of walking that I've ever had in my life, and even sleeping in a hammock sounded great.Martin from Switzerland was sick of wearing wet shoes, so decided to warm his shoes by the fire. We all laughed at him but little did we know that it would be him who had the last laugh.DAY 6: YOU MEAN I DON'T HAVE TO WALK ANYMORE? When we woke up, Steve's shoes were still soaking wet and with blisters all over his feet, he decided to follow Martin's example and put his shoes on the fire. So did Juan. Next thing I know, Steve has a layer of skin missing from his hand - when he grabbed his shoe, the rubber from the shoe label had melted and burned into his hand. Juan wasn't injured but his shoes were in worse shape - the laces had burned and there was a huge hole in one of his shoes.Having a doctor in our group once again paid off for us - he had an extensive first-aid kit that was much better than my sad pack of wet bandaids. After Steve's hand was wrapped and Juan's shoes were put back together using a Macguyer-like method (turning random objects into relevant tools), we took off on our final day of walking.Steve was on pace with me as we descended the last huge hill, due to all of the blisters on his feet. Remember that I am wearing someone else's shoes, but they fit perfectly and I am totally blister-free. Thanks again, Carlos!We start to see familiar sights as the town comes into view. We are excited to reach the same restaurant where we started, because that means we are finally done. One of the older ladies also took a mule today but her counterpart, Fatima, reaches the restaurant not too far behind us and tells us that she's not even tired. "Let's walk back to Santa Marta!" she says. (It's a 2-hour drive) I hope that I can take a walk about the block when I'm 60, let alone complete a strenous hike to the middle of nowhere.We are dirty, we are tired, I've wrecked two pairs of shoes, Steve's shoes are history... but we're feeling pretty good. I could not have done such a trip at the beginning of our South American trip, but this wasn't too bad and a pretty unique experience. I am happy about our decision to take this journey... but still look forward to heading to the beach. Of course, being South America, we're not totally finished. On the way home, our bus busts up a tire.AFTERWORDWith all that walking behind us, Steve and I decide to drop off the face of the earth at Parque Tayrona, where you spend your day on the beach and your night in a hammock. We find out that we have to walk 45 minutes to the first beach, then 30 to the next, then 30 to the next. I guess we aren't done with walking just yet.... but at least we're combining the walking with my favourite activity - lying on the beach. Can we stay here forever?
]]> The Ultimate STEVE SAYS...SARA SAYS - Part 1 — Salto Angel, Venezuela http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/steve_sara/southamerica/1184872020/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/steve_sara/southamerica/1184872020/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/steve_sara/southamerica/1184872020/tpod.html Fri, 24 Aug 2007 13:56:06 -0400 DOS GRINGOS EN SUDAMERICA

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Salto Angel, Venezuela

SARA SAYS... Steve, I think it`s time for an intervention. Readership for our blog is way down and you're clearly to blame. STEVE SAYS...What do you mean?SARA:  My friend Jenny T summed it up in her last email: "I`m loving the blog still, but I need to see less of Steve's ass."STEVE:  Okay, but in another e-mail, your former CBC co-worker, the classy Alison Smith, called me both ´voluble´ and ´loquacious.' SARA:  You do know what those words mean, right?STEVE:  That I look hot in a speedo?SARA: No, you idiot, it´s just a fancy way of calling you a big mouth.STEVE:  (trying to look up the definitions on the Internet)SARA:  Plus, sometimes I read other people's blogs for useful information on our next location.  I just realized that we provide absolutely no help to other travelers.  Shots of you in a Speedo might even deter people from going to the beach. STEVE: Okay, you win, no speedo shots (pouts and crosses arms).ENTERING VENEZUELA STEVE:  Sara and I were lucky enough to see Peru`s Machu Picchu and Brazil`s Christ the Redeemer before they were named to the ¨New 7 Wonders of the World,¨ so again trying to beat the rush, we decided to enter Venezuela before it was put on another prestigious list, the Axis of Evil. SARA:  We were also starting to feel lost in Brazil without our Portugese guide Victor.  I even had trouble at the Embassy (McDonalds).  I tried to order a Combo #5, but she thought I wanted 5 of them. Argh.  And Manaus was the hottest place I've ever been to in my entire life, not to mention the hideous mosquitoes.  Here's my useful tip for Canadians crossing into Venezuela by land at Santa Elena, you DO NOT need to get a tourist card in advance, as indicated in some travel books and on the Canadian government's website.  You just need your passport.  How did we find this out?  The hard way.  It took us almost an hour to find the Venezuelan Embassy in a taxi because the street numbers in Manaus range from 5 to 80 to 300 and 800 and back again, all on the same street.  On one building, the number 6, on the store beside it, the number 81, and beside it, the number 301. You get the picture.  Total confusion.  We only found it thanks to the Venezuelan flag hanging outside.  Of course, it was closed.  My persistent ringing of the doorbell in blatant disregard for the office hours prompted a man in casual clothes to actually come to the door and answer our questions, in English no less.  Venezuela is looking up.  STEVE: Here`s even better advice. BRING AMERICAN MONEY. Venezuela artificially inflates their currency, pegging it at 2,100 bolivares for every U.S. dollar. However, if you bring in greenbacks, you can change them on the black market at a rate of  $1 for about 3,600 bolivares. Using some quick math, I believe that`s 75% more spending power. Could someone who isn`t an idiot check on that for me?SARA: Can`t help you.STEVE: No surprise there, a couple of months ago Sara actually asked me how many millilitres were in a litre. Let`s call it a moment of weakness and move on. Anyway, we entered Venezuela with some American money, but as soon as we saw the prices for the Angel Falls tour ($210 each with black market money), we knew we`d need more. Thanks to the advice of a helpful tour agent, we got a lift back over the Brazilian border, didn`t stamp our passports or go through any form of customs, went to a Brazilian bank, took out $850 US worth of Brazilian Reals, came back into Venezuela, again bypassing customs and swapped our Brazilian currency for the same great black market rate.When you think of the black market, you picture seedy, gold chain wearing dudes in alleys who would just as soon steal your money, but in Venezuela, everything`s a legit, almost neat operation. As soon as they spot a gringo in Santa Elena, guys on street corners start shouting, ¨Cambiar, cambiar.¨ You can`t escape it. Then, if you show interest, many of them will then invite you into their office (consisting of a desk, drawers with cash, and a calculator) before sending you away with a fistful of bolivares. Imagine the fistful I had after changing 1700 Braziilian Reals ($850 US). Over three million in bolivares, packaged in a thick wad of $20,000 bills. Never have I felt like such a bigshot. I wanted to buy myself a briefcase, a hooker, an NBA referee, anything to keep the feeling of power alive.  I settled with offering $1 million bolivares to sleep with some hot-dog vender`s wife. She was fabulous.  SARA: That never happened.STEVE: Fabulous, I say.(brushes hands together) There, that should shut Sara up about not being helpful to other travelers.GRAN SABANASTEVE:  First up, a 6-day trek of Roraima (2810m), the grandest of the mysterious tepuis (flat topped mountains) that line the Venezuela`s border with Brazil. Roraima was the inspiration for Sir Arthur Conan Doyle`s The Lost World and is labeled a ¨Must-Do¨ in all travel guide books.  Roraima's huge plateau is skirted by astonishing vertical walls, lifting it a mile above the tropical savannah. Stepping in the footsteps of some of the great Victorian explorers, you walk through ancient forests and under waterfalls to its summit of surreal rocks and crystal valleys. Sounds amazing right? How'd you enjoy Roraima, Sara? SARA:  Sorry, Mount Roraima just did not appeal to me.  After weeks of good livin' with Victor "Let's have a snack!" Lopes, the thought of a 6-day trek made my stomach turn.  After hearing from the tour operator about the problem with gnats and the necessity for thick socks to facilitate tricky river crossings, I was out.  STEVE: That was Sara ¨There`s trekking in South America?¨ Brunetti, give her a hand everyone (roaring applause).  Anyway, because I don`t want our readers to be robbed of the same experience I was, I`m pasting a very informative blog on Roraima below. Sara found it while trying to decide whether to exert herself or not. The blogger, also named Steve, passes on some conversational nuggets he heard from two gay trekkers on his hike:"Mark where is the baby powder? I need to powder my nuts." "Right here baby." "Mark, can you tighten the straps on my backpack, I like it a bit tighter around my hips." "Sure cutie, one sec."  "Mark, I am not crossing the river on that log, there's no way I will make it." "Oh you can do it honey." You better cross right now you little clown, or I'll kick your faggot ass back to DC.(http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/stevefn/rtw2004 /1110666660/tpod.html )  SARA: What is it with the name Steve, are all you guys hilarious or what?SARA: You can`t just start writing shit under my moniker or this will never work!STEVE: Ah, no speedo shots, now this, I`m handcuffed here. SARA:  Wasn't the Gran Sabana jeep tour much better than Roraima anyway, given that it was pouring rain?  And you obviously wanted some excitement, trying to turn the jeep tour into some extreme sporting event.   Waterfall after waterfall after waterfall, you tried to spice up the tour.  The first one had a slippery rockbed, which you semi-successfully turned into a slip'n'slide.  (Only a small slide, but no broken teeth).  The next one had a huge 10m drop into a small but apparently deep hole.  The guide tells Steve that he's jumped off the cliff before and it's safe if you jump straight down from a certain spot.  Given that it's pouring rain and the grass is slippery, most people would say it was too risky.  Steve?  He's taking off his shirt, giving me his valuables and kissing me goodbye.  Luckily, this story has a happy ending, but one of these days.  I don`t get it. The thought of dancing in public paralyzes him with fear, but he'll jump on a cliff 'cause our Venezuelan guide says it's safe??? STEVE:  It`s true. I`m scared of the salsa, the tango, the merengue, you name it. And you can forget about me approaching a girl in a nightclub. In fact, I think on a subconscious level I just thrill-seek to  counteract my general ¨unmanliness.¨ While I don't bring girls home from the bar, I jump out of planes. While I can't fix a car, I bungee jump. While I need Sara's dad to do all our home repairs for us, I jump off high cliffs into suspect waters below. While I once drilled through a $800 kitchen table I was putting together as a student employee at a furniture store, I repel down mountains, white water raft, sandboard, whatever. I sprinkle in a poop story here and there and voila, you have yourself a man.   SARA: And what a man!!! May I add that you`re very well-equipped downstairsSARA: That's your last warning or this blog's over. This won't be a repeat of "Sara's Diary."  But speaking of poop stories, I believe you have another one.STEVE: Nope, even if I wanted to tell it, people are even more sick of them than the speedo shots.COPA AMERICA SEMI-FINAL:  ARGENTINA V. MEXICO SARA:  I entered Venezuela with a fair amount of caution. As someone who has checked Canada's travel advisories many times at work, I decided to check out the advisory for Venezuela on the government's website.  Let's just say it wasn't a ringing endorsement.  In fact, it was the kind of travel advisories that make you think twice about going somewhere.  A newly added section about the Copa America warned that Canadian tourists should "minimise the amount of time spent in the vicinity of soccer stadiums before, during and after matches."  Phew.  Good thing we're not going to a soccer game.STEVE: ¨Hey, the semi-final between Argentina and Mexico is only an hour away in Ciudad Guyana. Want to go?¨ SARA: Didn't the Canadian government say something about soccer games?STEVE: Nah.    And after attending the 3-0 Argentina victory, I don`t know what the Canadian government was so worried about. It was probably the most well-run, safe and enjoyable spectator event I ever went to. Ciudad Guyana is practically a city from the future. It couldn`t be more modern. In fact, it`s more American than most American cities. Advanced roadways, bridges, huge shopping malls, cinemas and practically every restaurant chain. Not just the usual Burger King, McDonalds, KFC trifecta, but Wendy`s, Subway, Papa John`s, Tony Roma`s, Friday`s and Applebees. So while Hugo Chavez apparently hates all things American, he has no problem Eatin` Good in the Neighbourhood. SARA: And, how`d you like the game (which we would`ve missed had we climbed Roraima,  might I add)?STEVE: Well, the action was fast and furious. What a pace. I didn`t know where to look. I mean, all these perfectly tuned specimans doing what they do best on a world stage. I jumped, I screamed, I did the wave, I drooled, it was amazing. I don`t what else to say. SARA: Messi`s goal was unbelievable wasn`t it? STEVE: Messi`s goal? SARA: Wait a minute, did you even watch the game? STEVE: No, but let me explain. Every Venezuelan girl has a boob job.  While 80% of Venezuelans are under the poverty line, they spend 20% of their household income on cosmetics and personal care products.  They also have the most plastic surgery done per capita. And obviously, a premier event like Copa America attracts rich men who want to be seen with these fine ladies on their arms.  SARA: It`s true, and these young girls are always with these old, nasty guys.STEVE: It just turns my stomach. All these men who cast aside their wives and shack up with younger models. Just terrible. These men will never experience the joy of growing old with a loved one. Finishing each other`s sentences, taking each other to the hospital,  rubbing moisturizer on each other`s leathery skin, watching reruns of Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman...      SARA: Okay, okay, that`s about enough, we get the picture.STEVE: If I get rich, I would never do that to you honey, never (looks over at hot dog venders` wife rolling around in his bed with 1 million bolivares).   ANGEL FALLSSARA:  We did enjoy our hostel in Ciudad Bolivar, which will remain nameless (DON CARLOS), but when they found out we were going to Angel Falls through a different company, the owner informed me that we had just booked "a crappy tour."  An utterance of anger.... or truth??STEVE:  Crappy tour or not, we saved $100 dollars by taking a 2.5 hour jeep ride instead of a direct flight to Canaima. In fact, I wish I held the money for this entire South American vacation. After keeping Sara in line, I could be one of those consultants companies hire to come in, overlook operations (expenditures, the workforce etc.) and start getting rid of redundancies. You know, cut the fat.SARA:  I certainly wouldn`t have spent as much if Steve was always in control of the money.  In other countries, due to the abundance of ATMs, I always had the money to buy things - gifts, souvenirs, food, you name it.  But because of the black market exchange, we've been living off the money we took out in Brazil for over 3 weeks.Here are some examples of the "choices" that Steve has given me in the past week or so...- "Sara, you decide.  Shrimp for dinner, or water to drink.  Forget the shrimp, let's eat those cheap hot dogs on the street."- "C'mon Sara, we could take a taxi directly from Mochima to Puerto La Cruz for $20US.  But we could also take a 'por puesto' (small local bus) from Mochima to the main road, flag down another por puesto en route to Santa Fe, then transfer to another one in Santa Fe.  It will take twice as long and we'll be the only tourists doing it.  I`m sure the locals won't mind our big bags blocking the aisles.  Think of the savings!"- "Yeah, that is nice jewelry.  But $10,000 bolivars?  I know it's only about $3, but that could be our lunch tomorrow.  I know we should be buying gifts... but I'm going to have to say no to this one."- "What did you say, the zipper on your small bag with all your important stuff is broken?  You can't fix it?  Do you REALLY need a new one, we only have a month left.  (Sara carries passport, money, cards and camera around for 2 hrs in a plastic bag, then snaps)  Well, if you're going to cry about it, here's $10 to buy a new bag.  Good luck on your search, that's your spending limit for the week."     So sorry, friends and family, no souvenirs or gifts from Venezuela.  My spending has been virtually stopped in its tracks.  You better hope for something in my last spending spree in Bogota.But in the case of Angel Falls, the savings did pay for our Copa America tickets.  I felt good about it... until I saw the airport.  It looked like someone's rundown garage with a few plastic lawnchairs outside.  I saw a sickly-looking dog running around and said to Steve, "That's the most disgusting dog that I've ever seen."  Then I saw another one and said, "No, THAT's the most digusting dog that I've ever seen."  And then I saw the small planes.  Why oh why didn't we spend the extra $50?  Aren't our lives worth that much? STEVE: Class operation all the way. While we weren`t offered shelter from the sun (or even chairs), drinks, food, a clean bathroom or any updates on when we might be taking off, I thought they did a helluva job.SARA:  This is also the place where I experienced my first rejection of a Canadian pin.  Courtesy of the Embassy in Washington, I've been spreading Canadian pride and joy to the children of South America with flag pins & stickers.  A forlorn-looking local boy was standing around this decrepid airport, so I offered him a sticker.  He looked at it, looked at me, then shook his head in disgust.  Maybe he saw my face as I looked around his airport.STEVE: Offering those crappy stickers to kids is one thing, but what takes the cake is when she breaks them out for adults or other tourists. A rejection was well overdue. In fact, it was easily the highlight of my day. SARA: Anyway, after waiting over an hour, we squeezed into a small plane with our new friends Christianne and Mike from Belgium and Francisco from Spain.  We left Harry and Enda from Ireland at the airport.  After a breathtaking but thankfully safe flight, we landed at a rustic camp.  We asked about the Irish guys, only to be told they were "on another tour."  Huh?  Typical South American tour.  Sure enough, they showed up hours later with a woeful tale of being left at that airport for 2 more hours.STEVE: While the Irish guys stewed in the Airport, the rest of us headed for Salto Sapo. On the way, I got talking to a 19-year-old Venezuelan teenager sporting a Kurt Cobain t-shirt. Here`s an excerpt of our hour long conversation, much of it not straying too far from what`s below: Me: ¨Te gusta Nirvana?¨Norberto: ¨Me gusta mucho, te gusta?¨Me: ¨Si, me gusta tambien. Te gusta Pearl Jam?¨Norberto (great name by the way): ¨Si, me gusta. Y Stone Temple Pilots?¨ Me: ¨Oh, me gusta mucho.¨  PART II: The tale of Trinidad and Tobago — Mochima, Venezuela http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/steve_sara/southamerica/1185478260/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/steve_sara/southamerica/1185478260/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/steve_sara/southamerica/1185478260/tpod.html Tue, 21 Aug 2007 00:28:10 -0400 DOS GRINGOS EN SUDAMERICA

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Mochima, Venezuela

SARA SAYS...I told you Steve, Part I was a resounding success. People seemed to enjoy the fact that they could read our blogs without seeing your ass. Here´s what your former grade 9/10 English teacher had to say:"Sara, thank you, thank you, thank you for a getting a grip on Steve's speedo and poop urges.¨ -- Cindy BurkeSTEVE SAYS...C´mon, that doesn´t count, she´s obviously biased. Just look at this comment I received:¨The entire community was disappointed with your change of direction, please consider inserting more speedo shots in your next entry.¨ -- Illinois State Penitentiary SARA: From a prison?STEVE: Those ladies are lonely.SARA: That´s a male prison. STEVE: Nevertheless, Cindy Burke is biased. Imagine, devoting your whole life to teaching English, only to have punk kids running around the classroom, not giving a damn about what you say. Then finally she gets through to a student, she has high hopes for him and instead of a novel, a short story, perhaps a book of poems, he writes a blog full of poop jokes. It´s sad, really. Anyway, this one´s for you Cindy: Aside from being outrageously cold, Venezuelan buses have ¨Solo Orinar¨signs on their bathroom doors. Normally, I´d be fine with this, who wants to crap on a bus anyway? But when your traveling for over 12 hours, anything can happen. ¨Solo Orinar¨ is pretty harsh if you ask me, especially if you have a stomach ache. On this certain overnight bus ride, I had one. And you can´t say I didn´t try. I felt like I should´ve been awarded some kind of trophy for clenching under pressure. However, I finally had to relent around 3am in the morning.I tip-toed down the stairs to the bathroom, gently closed the door behind me and calmed my stomach before cleaning up as fast as I could. Mission accomplished. I opened the bathroom door to return to my seat when who was waiting for me, but the bus attendant himself.Remaining very cool and innocent, I tried to brush past him, but he held his ground. And what I remember is not screaming or swearing, but silence, dreadful silence. He just looked at me like a disappointed father. His demeanor shouted, ¨You know what you did wrong, don´t pretend like you don´t,¨ but he remained mute. Finally, he pointed at the sign. Instead of playing the ¨I didn´t see it¨ card, I went with ¨No entiendo espanol.¨ I don´t think it worked and unlike the Peruvian train, there were no smiles or laughs exchanged afterwards. I was scared, this was my first Venezuelan bus ride and I didn´t know the punishment for such a clear violation. While I really didn´t see the sign in Peru, this was more of a premeditated pooing, a kind of "Crapping in the First Degree with Intent to Streak". This could hold consequences. SARA: But it never. Nothing happened, did it. You just wanted to use that premeditated pooing gag and congratulations, you took six paragraphs to write it.STEVE: You´re making me feel how that bus driver made me feel all over again. Actually, this whole blogging process feels like that bus ride. I was told I couldn`t do something, I heroically fought to clench the details inside, but alas, they ended up exploding out. And now I feel better...and lighter, 10 pounds lighter. SARA: Anyway, this is the part where we wow everyone about our trip to Trinidad & Tobago. After all, we were so close to the Caribbean, why shouldn't we take advantage of it? Now, we just had to get there. We spent a few days in Santa Fe while we waited for the weekly ferry (yes, only once a week) on the Venezuelan coast. We enjoyed a hostal on the beach and boat rides to secluded islands. Dolphins, iguanas, colourful coral, you name it... a taste of good things to come. Unfortunately, the Lonely Planet has it all... all wrong. Especially the part about transportation in Venezuela. They said we could take a "por puesto" (small bus) to the next town and then catch a bus to Guiria, where we'd get the ferry to Trinidad. Wrong. Instead, we spent the day transferring from por puesto to buses to muscle cars. Yes, muscle cars.STEVE: Unlike anywhere else we´ve been in South America, there´s never a bus in Northeastern Venezuela. There´s just guys in wife-beaters who happily inform you there is no bus. Then they refer you to a guy with a muscle car from the 70´s. These cars are huge, boats on wheels with drivers who are all too glad to captain them. Most of them sport driver´s gloves, take race car type turns and have paint jobs like ¨2 Fast 2 Furious¨ or ¨Big Wheels.¨ The whole thing has a strange, ¨I`ve stumbled into a James Dean movie¨ kind of feel (I know I'm mixing decades here).I wish I could go on, but as I described in the last blog, I´m not manly and can´t really give you any make or model on these cars. However, on this night, our mode of transportation was the ¨Conquistador.¨ It made Sara´s grandfather´s Buick LeSabre look like a Volkswagon bug and I`m pretty sure its emissions would`ve given Al Gore the heart attack that, so far, over-eating hasn`t. SARA: I didn´t care what that car looked like, I just wanted to get out of Carupano and never set foot in it again. After three hours in the Conquistador, we finally arrived in Guiria only to find that all the hostels were booked, likely by others about to take the ferry. Great foresight by the two of us as usual. We almost said ¨yes¨ to one hostel before Steve peaked in the washroom and noticed a turd in the toilet. About time somebody paid him back. After he saw this, the owner "remembered" to mention there was no water in his place. We ended up spending the night in another hostel, in a room that made the Flora House (Steve`s old college place) look like a palace. STEVE: Hey, I loved the Flora House. It had both a foosball and a pinball table. Funnily enough, the four guys I lived with and myself created rules where if you scored no goals in foosball or had under 25,000 points in pinball, you got spanked (HARD!) with a giant plastic spoon that my one roommate, Andy, used to make home brew with. And around both tables was a Spanksie Hall of Shame photo gallery, proudly displaying all of us getting spanked. Even stranger still, we`re all straight. I know that whole story had ¨homoerotic¨ written all over it. SARA: Ah, so that`s what guys who don`t get laid in college do. Anyway, we got up really early the next morning and nabbed the last two boat tickets. Again, the Lonely Planet made it seem like it´d be a cinch, but we almost never got to go. STEVE: That would`ve sucked. Imagine how mad I would`ve gotten if we didn`t get to go to Trinidad and Tobago. I probably would`ve called all Venezuelans ¨morons who couldn`t organise a bake sale, nevermind a socialist revolution.¨ That would`ve been mean. SARA: So, we`re sitting at the dock, waiting with the other passengers to get on the ferry when a big, black caribbean guy taps me on the shoulder. He points to jeep parked nearby and I recognize the lady from the ferry's office in the driver's seat. He tells me that we should take our stuff and go with her. While we protest, saying the ferry is just about to board, he tells us to take it up with her. Of course, once we're in the car with her, she starts driving away from the port.So, suddenly we`re left staring out the back window at the ferry as the jeep hauls us away. Back at the office, we meet more gringos who were pulled off the boat in favour of a local student group. STEVE: But, we still got to go right?SARA: No.STEVE: That seems awfully unfair.SARA: Yeah, but she had some good news as well. She said we can all go NEXT Wednesday, only a week from now. STEVE: I`m okay with that, no, I really am. No need for name calling, or anything like that. SARA: So, decision time. Do we spend another day trying to get to Trinidad via fishing boat, the alternative the other travelers are trying to organize? Or, do we get out of Guiria now, via the bus that's about to leave? We booked it out of there as fast as possible... heading for Rio Caribe, which our books said had "most beautiful beaches in Venezuela." Of course, on the way there we had a stopover in lovely Carupano and had to arrange (with the same guy) yet another muscle car to take us to Rio Caribe. We felt good about our decision until we realized the next morning:1) We forgot Steve's swim trunks (not his famous speedo) in Santa Fe2) We were running out of American dollars and our plan to get more in Trinidad was now ruined. Without American dollars, Venezuela flips from being one of the cheapest countries in South America to one of the most expensive. 3) The beaches may be the most beautiful in Venezuela, but they`re impossible to get to.4) Once we got to the beach, we couldn't stay there because it was too expensive. I wanted to finally spend the "CBC splurge gift," but we couldn't justify spending our dwindling U.S. dollars.STEVE: Before she left, Sara's coworkers gave her cash to spend on a nice hotel for a couple nights. So, for the last six months, all I`ve heard is, ¨This could be our splurge,¨ or ¨That`d be a nice splurge, ¨ or ¨Splurge, splurge, splurgie, splurge.¨ Don`t know if it`s coming through, but I got sick of the word ¨splurge,¨ although I`m now using it to make fun of Sara, which is strangely enough, making me start to like the word again. SARA: If you weren't so cheap, we would`ve splurged months ago. Stay tuned to our blog for news on an upcoming splurge.STEVE: Splurge. SARA: The beach we ended up visiting, Playa Medina, was like that picture-perfect postcard. Palm trees, white sand, blue water, no garbage, sandy swimming, fresh fish for lunch. The only problem was getting there. We got up at the crack of dawn to get a por puesto to the beach, only to find out that it drops you off on the side of the highway. At this very sign, in fact (see photo). So, we think we're close and the locals waiting for the bus tell us it's only a half-hour walk. No problem. Sure enough, it ends up being nine kilometres, most of which we had to walk, until finally hitching a ride in the back of a truck. STEVE: Yeah, and when Sara has to walk or hop from por puesta to buseta to bus in the sweltering heat, her face starts to get red, her brow becomes all sweaty and her hair`s absolutely everywhere. Actually, come to think of it, she resembles Bill Murray`s character in Kingpin during the final bowling scene. SARA: What, you`re playing the hair game? Has anyone reading this, seen Steve`s hair when he hasn`t cut it in two months. Everything becomes big and puffy, except for his island, which sadly, remains the same size. STEVE: That`s it, you thought ¨Berutti¨ was bad, I`m changing your moniker to ¨Big Ern.¨ BIG ERN: Moving on, since it was such a hassle to get to Playa Medina, we decided to go back to Mochima National Park, and stay at the small fisherman's town of Mochima. Turned out it was vacation time in Venezuela and everyone else had the same idea. We were lucky to find a room in someone's house before heading to the beach. We found out the entire country was there and so was their garbage.STEVE: When you travel in poor countries, you have to get used to the garbage. People are always throwing bottles out of bus windows, or tossing trash into the river. They just haven`t been taught any better. That said, Venezuelans are extra dirty, a new breed of litterers, if you will.Mochima is a national park, yet, you couldn`t run your foot through the sand without finding ten or more beer bottle caps. Extra amusing to me, is that Venezuelans all drink light beer that comes in these small 222ml bottles. When eating lunch one day, we noticed three guys on bar stools, plowing through these things. At least 40 dead soldiers were proudly displayed in front of them. Yes, a light beer drinking contest! That`s like Michael Vick pitting poodles against each other or Kobayashi chowing down on cocktail wieners. SARA (refusing to be called Big Ern any longer): Or Steve using one-ply toilet paper. By now, we can only imagine what bliss it would be in Trinidad & Tobago. We are the only tourists in a crowded town of vacationing Venezuelans, and Steve is in total cheap mode. We eat hot dogs on the street for dinner (Steve eats his Kobayashi style), drink only water and enjoy the one english movie channel on TV. This isn't the way to travel! We decide to move on to our last destination in Venezuela... Merida. Steve, forever watching the budget, puts us on a small bus to the highway. We switch to a bus to Santa Fe. We switch to another bus to Puerto La Cruz. We then switch to our overnight bus to Merida, another 20-hour bus ride. A vacationing Venezuelan family, all 15 of them, sit directly behind us and talk for the entire night. Silencio, por favor!We arrive in Merida and the next thing I know, I'm jumping off of a cliff. How did I get talked into paragliding?? I had a very rough take-off, getting violently pulled into the air, dropping back down again, jerking up again... you get the picture. I screamed the entire time. Steve was taking a video of this monumentous occasion, but his camera crapped out (what a shame). Here is a picture of me at take-off... I'm smiling, but that is a look of real and total fear in my eyes! It was weird, almost surreal, to be sitting up in the air, looking down at my feet with only mountains and the city below them.And it was more than a little scary, although worth it. And at least I had a smooth landing... the same can't be said for Steve "Rough Landing" Dominey. STEVE: No, not another black eye, but a scraped shoulder that`s starting to look like it might scar. But, don`t let this discourage you, paragliding is a walk in the park (even Sara did it), I`m just not meant to fly.The next day I tried something a little more daring, canyoning. Not to overhype this activity, but it`s by far the most fun thing I`ve ever done. Myself and two others were taken to a canyon in the jungle. We were given a wetsuit, a wetjacket and a helmet and proceeded to follow the cold river downstream. Walking in it (ruining my shoes in the process), zipping down natural waterslides on my butt, back and stomach, jumping off cliffs and repelling (abseiling) down three waterfalls measuring 10m, 25m and 35m, respectively. The first two waterfalls I repelled down were insane. There was no thought of proper form, I just did everything I could to get to the bottom as fast as I could. Water was blasting me in the face from above, I had absolutely no idea where I was until I touched land, it was an incredible rush.The whole day was an incredible rush. Four straight hours of this stuff. You jump off one cliff, then you slide down the next, it seemed like it went on forever. It was like a day at a really good waterpark without the lines or possibility of breaking something. Luckily, I again escaped with a minor injury. I smashed my tailbone on a rock. Three weeks later and I`m still complaining about my ass. However, the sentence ¨Tengo dolor en mi trasero¨ never fails to get a laugh from the locals. As a sidenote, I wear contacts, so I had to wear those goggles in the photos. I was going to go on another rant about how the pictures are further proof that I look terrible in all uniforms, but I think the goggles work for me. Yep, I`m definitely sportin` the goggles. Walking on Water by Steve Dominey — Merida, Venezuela http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/steve_sara/southamerica/1185916920/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/steve_sara/southamerica/1185916920/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/steve_sara/southamerica/1185916920/tpod.html Mon, 20 Aug 2007 14:58:28 -0400 DOS GRINGOS EN SUDAMERICA

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Merida, Venezuela

While at Angel Falls, two Danish guys told Sara and I about a phenomenon that occurs nowhere else on earth, the Catatumbo lightning. Almost every night, frequent flashes of lightning light up the Venezuelan sky over Lake Maracaibo.  What makes this occurence so unique is the lightning storm isn´t accompanied by rain or thunder. It´s soundless. Scientists have yet to explain it, but the most accepted theory is the lightning occurs when cold air from the Andes meets the warm air from South America`s largest lake, Lake Maracaibo.Needless to say, when we arrived in Merida, witnessing the Catatumbo lightning was at the top of our to-do list. However, we were running out of American currency to trade on the black market and once we did, we`d have to take money out of bank machines at a rate of 2,100 bolivares for every dollar, compared with 3,600 bolivares for each dollar on the black market. So, we had to go cheap. We turned down a pricier trip from Arassari Trekking, where we´d visit the stilted village of El Congo, apparently the best spot to witness the lightning. Arassari´s tour sounder better, but so what, we saved 260,000 bolivares ($72 US black market).  Besides, while in Peru, we already saw a tribe that lives on a lake. They used buoyant plants to construct these floating islands that they perched their houses on top of. Sounds pretty cool, and it was, but the whole excursion just seemed like an excuse to sell us handicrafts. Way too touristy. So, this time we`ll stick to seeing the lightning, thanks.    The jeep ride from Merida to Lake Maracaibo is a long, all day process, but something we know we won´t have to do again and something we know will be completely worth it once it gets dark.To pass the time, I decide to pry some information out of our tour guide Ingrid. ¨Does it look like a good day to see lightning?¨¨Yes, I think so.¨¨Will those clouds be a problem?¨¨Yes, maybe.¨The whole day`s like this. I try to get information from Ingrid, but with every question, I get rebuffed, redirected or rewarded with a useless answer. I have to find out if we´re seeing lightning. It`s the only reason we even went on this excursion, which the agency also dressed up with the promise of birds, monkeys and crocodiles.Me: ¨How many of these trips have you done?¨Ingrid: ¨To Catatumbo, maybe four or five.¨Me: ¨And how often do you see the lightning?¨Ingrid: ¨Maybe 50% of the time.¨Me: ¨What!¨Okay, now I´m worried. Why is no one else worried by this stat? Sara`s putting on an optimistic front to counteract my usual pessimism, but the others on the tour (a Danish girl and two German lesbians) don´t seem bothered in the least. After the jeep ride that just won´t end, finally does just that, we all hop in a boat. Our driver, Omar, takes us to his stilted house on the lake. It`s in a neighbourhood of about seven or eight such houses, but this is clearly not a village. Omar doesn´t even live in his, he just makes money taking tourists here.  And for a stilted house, a place that´s literally on stilts in the middle of the lake, it`s quite nice. We`ve definitely stayed in worse places over the past 6 months.  It has a clean bathroom, tiled floors and Sara`s favourite, hammocks to sleep in. Not that we´ll be doing much sleeping, we have a date with lightning. We just have to wait for nightfall.Me: ¨Wait a minute, is that a full moon?¨Ingrid: ¨Yes.¨Me: ¨Won´t that be a problem, it not being that dark and all?¨ Ingrid: ¨Yes.¨ C´mon, a full moon. It only happens one day a month and we´re unlucky enough for it to be tonight.  Again though, I appear to be the only person sweating it. Besides, Omar and Ingrid tell me the lightning doesn´t usually occur until the middle of the night (2am) and they´d wake everyone up if it did.So, we´d have to play the waiting game. But the waiting doesn´t last long. Around 11pm, while playing cards with the others, Omar informs us that the lightning has started. Yes!Sara and I immediately run outside to observe this once in a lifetime experience. Sara: ¨Is that it?¨ Me: ¨I think so.¨Sara: ¨Where is everyone anyway?¨They're finishing their card game. Are you shitting me, no wonder they weren´t concerned about the lightning earlier, they´d rather play crazy eights. And the worst part is, they aren´t missing anything. The lightning is sporadic at best, doesn`t illuminate the sky and seems miles away, hidden behind clouds. Finally, Ingrid comes out to join us. ¨Is this it?¨ I ask. ¨Yes.¨¨Is it usually better than this?¨¨Sometimes.¨Arghh. I just want to know if we should feel unlucky because there´s a full moon, it´s cloudy and the lightning is underwhelming, or lucky because at least we´re seeing a phenomenon that occurs nowhere else on earth. Let´s try this again:¨How would you rank this on a scale of 1 to 10?¨¨A five.¨¨A five, hey?¨¨Some people don´t even get to see it.¨¨Did you hear that Sara, 50% of people don`t even get to see it. This happens nowhere else on earth!¨ And sure enough, instead of being disappointed, we actually start cheering on the lightning like a pair of sad lightning groupies, sitting alone on the deck while the others continue to play cards. And in the absence of thick cartoon-like lightning bolts, our expectations get lower, leading us to say things along the lines of: ¨That one lit up the clouds really well,¨ or ¨That`s been the third flash in the last 10 minutes, awesome!!¨  While continuing to gaze hopefully at the sky, we`re startled by a splash behind us. ¨What was that?¨ Sara asks.¨Someone went to the bathroom,¨ I reply.¨No, it wouldn`t just go in the water.¨ ¨We`re in the middle of the lake in a stilted house, where do you think it goes?¨¨Why go through the charade of having a bathroom and toilet then, why not just a hole?¨(We hear the same splash. Sara shakes her head, feeling deceived).Ingrid again joins us on the deck and in a rare moment of honesty for a tour guide on an inferior tour, tells us the lightning´s better at the village of El Congo. Knowing we blew this one, Sara and I nod our heads in understanding. However, unaware of our blunder, Ingrid continues to rub the mistake in our faces.  She starts describing El Congo, making it sound almost magical. In the middle of a lake, three hours by boat to the closest town, a community of 2,500 people live on stilts, some spending their entire lives there, never once seeing the rest of Venezuela, not even putting a foot on solid earth. And by the way Ingrid describes it, they don´t need to. These people have a church, a plaza, shops and even a school. Me: ¨A school? What does this school teach? Ingrid: ¨I don´t know, like a normal school?¨Sara: ¨Geography? This is a lake, we are here, Venezuela is 3 hours that way, subject finished.¨ Me: ¨History?  This village was built many, many years ago. In 1996, Luis caught a big fish in over there, subject finished.¨Intrigued, I beg Ingrid to tell me more.¨Well, they have cows there.¨¨Cows!!! On stilts?¨¨Yeah, I even bought some cheese.¨ ¨How was it?¨¨It was good, they do it nice there.¨What? Now I`m completely blown away. Not only do these people have cows pasteurizing in the backyards of their stilted houses, but they're making nice cheese? How do they do anything nice there, they´re on stilts for Christ´s sake.And what are these cows thinking, exactly? Years go by, they´re eating grass by the mountains and suddenly, bam, they`re surrounded by water on some kind of farm animal  Alcatraz.Noticing that we´re bummed out about not being able to see the village, Ingrid tries to cheer us up, telling us that our tour´s much better than the last one she did. Apparently, nobody in the group could sleep because the guy in the stilted house next door was playing loud music all night. Unbelievable. Imagine, moving to a middle of a peaceful lake, only to have some asshole move next door and host jamming parties all night.  You´re left shaking your fist at him from across the lake, ¨I said turn that music down goddammit!¨  Then, I notice another problem with lake life. Me: ¨Who built their house first,¨ pointing at the place directly in front of us, obscuring some of the lightning, ¨Omar or that guy?¨Ingrid:  (just laughs)But I want an answer. While Sara and I were in the Bolivian jungle, our guide woke us up early to take us to the perfect spot to watch the sunrise. A group of us, just parked on the water, enjoying nature as we waited. It was peaceful, monkeys and birds stirred in the trees, our cameras were primed for amazing photos, when out of nowhere, another group´s boat entered the picture.  We were all watching it, wondering just what their driver was doing exactly, getting closer and closer until finally, he pulled his boat directly in front of ours, completely blocking our sunrise. I mean, we could practically reach out and touch the other boat. And it wasn´t like the lake was small, he could´ve parked anywhere. Our guide just shook his head, muttering ¨estupido,¨ before calmly moving our boat back, then pulling it right in front of theirs. It was hilarious. I kept waiting for the other driver to do it right back, I mean, it could´ve went on forever, or at least until the sun rose I guess. Anyway, that´s what the stilted house in front of Omar´s reminded me of. Say you`re Omar, your great-great-great grandfather built a house with prime lightning viewing location and then someone rolls into the neighbourhood and builds their house right in front of yours. You`re looking on, powerless, as this stilted house mansion is being erected right in front of you. "Hey Omar, I´m thinking about putting in a second garage," or "Yo, Omar, do you think these stilts will support a third floor?"After chatting a bit longer, we eventually give up, retiring to our hammocks for the night. But we were both pretty silent the next day. Sara craved the lightning bolts we saw pictured at the tour agency and I couldn´t stop thinking about El Congo. Do they have a mayor, police officers, how about a local coffee shop where everyone gossips about who banged who last night. Leaf Rapids had one of those. ¨I have to see this village,¨ I told Sara. ¨I haven´t even been there and I have enough material write a book!¨Sara: ¨I´m sure it´s not as glamourous as it sounds.¨Me:  ¨You know, I could move there for a year, immerse myself in their lives and voila, my first novel, Walking on Water by Steve Dominey.¨Sara: ¨You´re not moving there, don´t be ridiculous.¨ Me: ¨It´s a catchy title though, you gotta admit.¨So, after another long jeep ride back to Merida, Sara and I do what days ago would´ve seemed unfathomable. We go to a Venezuelan bank machine, take out 1,000,000 bolivares -- at a rate of 2100 bolivares to $1 US, that´s almost $500, with black market cash, it wouldn´t even be $300 --  and book the more expensive Arassari Catatumbo lightning tour, the one we were to cheap to pay for the first time. It costs the two of of us 800,000 bolivares (Arassari gave us a deal out of pity), not to mention the 640,000 bolivares we paid for the first tour and another whole day in a friggin´ jeep. I know, ouch.   This time, our guide`s Cesar, a Spaniard who hates Venezuela´s food, music and litter problem. He´s also discovered over 70 species of frog and knew the Crocodile Hunter, Steve Irwin, personally. Midway through the long van ride (we upgraded from a jeep), we stop for lunch. And as Cesar takes our orders, I wonder where else on earth would a respected frog expert and environmental conservationist be taking my lunch order. ¨Hey frog boy, I wanted a Coke, not a Pepsi, hop back there and get it right this time!¨The situation´s absurd, but then again, we´re on our way to a stilted village. On this trip, we´re accompanied by six other tourists, two of which can´t get it through their head that the lightning they´re hoping to see doesn´t actually touch the ground. These Scots are also having a hard time figuring out why Sara and I are doing the tour for a second time.  I begin to wonder the same until Cesar tells us a little history on the village.Apparently, Christopher Columbus sailed by it on his way to mistakingly discovering America in 1492. After seeing the natives living on water, he called it ¨Little Venice,¨ a title that eventually became the name of the country of Venezuela. When laying eyes on Little Venice for the first time, I feel overwhelmed, almost overjoyed . Sara and I are in a separate boat from the rest of our group, so we ask our driver for an advanced screening of the town.  There are pigs, chickens, dogs, cats and just like the rest of Venezuela, ¨Vote for Chavez¨ signs spray painted all over town.  The Death of a ´Stache and Birth of a Script — Manaus (only for sports fans), Brazil http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/steve_sara/southamerica/1183588260/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/steve_sara/southamerica/1183588260/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/steve_sara/southamerica/1183588260/tpod.html Tue, 10 Jul 2007 17:56:21 -0400 DOS GRINGOS EN SUDAMERICA

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Manaus (only for sports fans), Brazil

A week ago, I was surfing TSN´s website for new NHL signings (Glen Sather should join Muckler in Shady Pines, by the way) when I noticed something in the ´TSN Broadband` section. ¨No, no, no,¨ I said out loud. Concerned, Sara asked me what was wrong. ¨I think Schultzy shaved his ´stache,¨ I replied in a panic.Like many of you non-sports fans, Sara had no idea what I was talking about. But for those of you who like sports (or just moustaches for that matter), you know how devastating this event was. Chris Schultz is a man who should be filming milk commercials for Christ's sake. Or was, I guess.Now, I´m predicting this recreant act will prove to be the worst career move since Felicity cut her hair. But, you can´t blame Chris Schultz, a myriad of factors were working against him. First of all, I think TSN has instituted some kind of corporate policy banning moustaches. In the last few years, Glen Suiter, Rod Black and Darren Dreger have all shaved their upper lips. Just kidding, I only mentioned Dreger because wouldn´t a moustache be the perfect compliment to his act?You know how people are told to imagine the audience naked when they´re nervous? Dreger has just the opposite look on camera, almost like he wants the audience to imagine him naked.  I think a moustache is all he needs to supplant Bob McKenzie as Canada´s preeminent Hockey Insider.  Also working against Schultz is the moustache´s continual decline in popular culture. Everybody´s going under the razor. Alex Trebek, Cheech Marin, Rosie O´Donnell, the list goes on and on. Tom Selleck´s lost his flavour-saver multiple times, but perhaps more disturbing is what he´s doing now. Recently, I saw him on Boston Legal with a goatee. I´m fine with that. What I found particularly problematic was his love interest appeared to be Candice Bergen and worse yet, he was getting shut down. You´re telling me that the defining sex symbol of the `80s can´t land a 61 year-old Murphy Brown?  A moustachioed Magnum would never let this happen.Finally, Schultz might have ditched the soup-strainer because he felt betrayed by it. After all,  he was 22 games under .500 picking NFL games last season. So, he didn´t want to do it, he just felt he had to. I can picture him blubbering in his bathroom mirror, razor quivering in his hand as he tried to get himself together. Talking to his lifelong friend, ¨You know this is your fault, don´t you?  It didn´t have to be this way.¨ But lucky for Schultzy, I´m coming to the rescue. Short of him murdering Jim Van Horne for his moustache, this is all that can save his career. What is it, you ask?Well, it`s a script for a 2-minute item to be aired on the Sportscentre preceding his first Risky Business of the season. This piece will make fun of his miserable record picking NFL games last year, while getting people excited for the selections to come. The audience will respect him for mentioning his failures, but more, for his humility.  Why am I taking time out of my holiday to do him this favour? Because I believe he´s hands down the most entertaining analyst on Canadian television and the only one with a sense of humour about himself. Or at least I hope he has a sense of humour. If not, he could literally crush my head in his meaty palm.  So, without further delay, the television event of the year:------------------------------------------------------------ --------- Starts with The Dean of Canadian Sports Commentators in his interview chair.(By the way, did Brian Williams just start calling himself that and wait for the title to stick? ¨Brian, you´re on in 5 minutes¨ ...¨That´s the Dean of Canadian Sports Commentators to you, never call me Brian again.¨ or ¨Who told you the Dean likes whole wheat bagels? Take it back and go easy on the cream cheese this time.¨  Either way, I chose Brian Williams because he´s, well, the Dean of Canadian Sports  Commentators, and the 2010 Winter Olympics are still a while away, so it´s time for TSN to start getting some value out of that big, fat contract.) Brian Williams: "Last year was a tough on you, wasn't it Chris?"Chris Schultz (fighting away tears): "I just couldn't pick ´em, Brian, I couldn't pick 'em."BW: "22 games under .500. Is that why you shaved the moustache?"Schultz: "Yeah (sighs). I was desperate. TSN told me they were going to bring back Norm Hitzges.¨  BW (looking at his papers): ¨And it says here, you tried a career change?"Schultz: ¨That´s right.¨ MONTAGE:  1) Lloyd Robertson (or alternative CTV anchor): "And now, here´s Chris Schultz with your 5 day forecast..."Schultz (in front of a big board with 3 bright yellow suns over FRI, SAT, SUN): "Break out the beach towels and suntan lotion Canada, it's gonna be one hot weekend!!"      QUICK CUT: (Sound up of thunder crackling). Quick shots of lighting bolts, rain falling, water filling the streets, trees getting knocked down by the gusting wind. 2)eTalk Daily graphic flashes across the screen. Tanya Kim´s standing on set (date key reads May 3rd) Tanya:  ¨Over the weekend we sent our own Chris Schultz for a chat with party girls Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan. Chris, what´s the scoop?¨ Schultz:  ¨Thanks Tanya. I had heart to hearts with these girls and I´m telling you, they´ve matured, I don´t see any more trouble in their futures. I´m predicting great summers for the both of them.¨QUICK CUT:  Sound up of Paris escorted to jail, cut to picture of Lindsay Lohan passed out in a car.3) Cory Woron (in a hospital gown and headcap): "So, you're sure you know how to do this?"Schultz (in doctor's mask, snapping on rubber gloves): "Sure, I've delivered all 3 of my children myself."   (PICTURES OF CHRIS' 3 CHILDREN FLASH ACROSS SCREEN: An older boy with a moustache, a younger boy with a moustache, then a cute little girl with a moustache.) Schultz (camera positioned as if it's in the womb): "Push, Push!!!" (Sound up: Woman screams, you hear a baby cry) Schultz (holding up baby): "It's a girl!"Woron (nudges Schultz, clears his throat and points at baby's crotch)Schultz: "I mean, it's a boy!!"   ----BACK TO INTERVIEW---------------- BW: "So, after all that, what made you come back and pick games on TSN this year?"Schultz: "Let's just say I got some help from an old friend." CUT TO: (TSN's MAGGIE THE MONKEY spinning a wheel with NFL teams on it. Schultz is looking on, smiling) Schultz: "I have a feeling this year will be different Brian....I really do." End with shot of Schultz hugging Maggie the Monkey  -----the end------------------------Okay, perhaps ¨TV event of the year¨ was overstating it, but I had to conform to TSN`s broadcasting standards and practices. They are Canada's Sport's Leader after all. And I`m charging nothing for it, it`s absolutely free. Call it a ¨Thank you for not firing me¨ gift.  Actually, I do want one thing. How would Dreger feel about a moustache? Could we at least ask him?  
]]> BRAZIL....Speedos, Crabs and Victor Lopes!!! — Maceio, Brazil http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/steve_sara/southamerica/1182922320/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/steve_sara/southamerica/1182922320/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/steve_sara/southamerica/1182922320/tpod.html Thu, 05 Jul 2007 14:07:52 -0400 DOS GRINGOS EN SUDAMERICA

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Maceio, Brazil

STEVE SAYS....A little housekeeping before we begin. Congratulations to Aaron and Ange on their wedding, and more importantly, to Kris Millett, who kept the tradition of banging slutty bridesmaids alive and well. Even before it was glorified in the Wedding Crashers, I felt like the only guy who´s never accomplished this feat.Sara´s attempt at cheering me up: ¨Well, I´m the bridesmaid for my sister´s wedding in December, so maybe you´ll finally get some.¨Let´s face it, that´s not the same. It doesn´t even count. I´m still bummed out. And while on the topic of dating Sara, I feel obliged to wish her a happy 30th birthday. It seems like just yesterday when we met. I was a young impressionable 19-year-old and she was a needy older woman who promised to help me with my homework.   A lot of people ask me, ¨Steve, how is it dating an older lady?¨ and I say ¨It´s not for everyone, but....¨Sorry, Sara´s interrupting me. ¨What are you writing there? I´m not 30, you asshole, I´m only 28. Stop saying I´m 30!!!¨Nevertheless, happy birthday darling. Now to the business at hand - evaluating Brazil, easily the most common tourist destination in South America. But how does it stack up? Well, in order to make it easier for you (and having nothing to do with giving me yet another silly concept to base a blog on), I´ve decided to break it down by category. Getting inBrazil is the only country in South America that requires Canadians to obtain an entry visa.  While citizens of other Western nations need only their passports, Sara and I heard the process was very difficult for North Americans.Therefore, we weren´t overly confident about our first visit to the Brazilian Consulate in Buenos Aires. Within minutes of getting in line, an old man walked out muttering, ¨It´s impossible, absolutely impossible,¨ two guys told us, ¨You´ll have to come back at least one more time,¨ and we witnessed the greatest public meltdown of all time that didn´t involve Tom Cruise. A young American girl, who had just told me this was to be her third attempt, approached the window with an air of optimism. Within thirty seconds I heard arguing, then complaining, then in a high-pitched squeal...¨Do you not want me to get in?¨ (lady behind window shrugs)¨You know what, fuck Brazil, fuck Brazil!!!¨   Well, we had a much easier time. After providing the consulate with three months worth of bank statements, tickets both in and out of the country, the address of where we´d be staying, $50 each and a passport photo, we got processed on our second visit.     I wish I could find that girl for no other reason than to rub this in.   The WomenThat´s right guys, fasten your seatbelts, time to discuss Brazilian women. When Brazil was revealed as our next destination, the e-mails started pouring in (or these 2 did anyway):From the message board, Jamie House requests, ¨Take a lot of pictures of the 'scenery' in Rio.¨And look at this one, printed here in actual font size:I NEED TO KNOW HOW THE WOMEN IN BRASIL LOOK!!!!!  LOTSA PICS!!!!!!!Because this guy´s moving into a brand new house with his girlfriend in a couple months, I´ll protect his identity by referring to him only as M. Lafleur. No, no, no, to be safe, let´s go with Matt L..Anyway, without further adieu, pictures from the world famous Copacabana beach: I know, not what I was expecting either. While there´s still a lot of scenery (I bought new shades for this very reason), there´s a whole lot more to try and avoid. In Canada, for instance, if you´re fat, old or just plain flabby, you´d probably opt for a one piece bikini. In Brazil, the women are buried in a two-piece. And to make the ¨eye candy¨ percentage even worse, you have to factor in the dudes in speedos. These guys make Europeans look shy.More on this later. The BeachesOf course, they´re amazing, but I´m not here to make you jealous, so I´ll continue to focus on the drawbacks.Lying on the Copacabana isn´t as relaxing as you´d think. Sure, there´s a 4.5 km beach of golden sand, 26-degree weather and the Atlantic Ocean to swim in (okay, now I´m trying to make you jealous), but there´s also hordes of venders asking you to buy something every 30 seconds. Here´s a list of the products for sale: towels, bags, towels that turn into bags, sarongs, soccer jerseys, baseball caps, beach hats, shades, swimsuits, jewelry, handicrafts, sun tan lotion, peanuts, beer and an assortment of other beverages, ice cream, cotton candy, biscuits, cheese on a stick and yes, in the sweltering heat, shrimps on a stick.I know I´m missing something. And these guys don´t ask if you want something once, they come back again, and again and again. -- ¨Sunglasses, sunglasses, sunglasses.¨ -- ¨No thank you.¨-- ¨Very cheap.¨   -- ¨But we´re both wearing sunglasses. Are we really your target customer?¨-- (blank stare)...¨Very cheap.¨-- ¨Arghhh!¨Activities That Could Kill YouAfter being too fat to skydive in Argentina, I was pleased to find out that hang gliding was on the menu in Rio. I was told as long as we had a good take-off, my weight would not be an issue. If we had a poor take-off, we´d end up in the trees on the side of the mountain. So, I waited for the count of three and took off in stride with my attached guide, running about eight fast steps down a declining ramp before dropping right off the edge.For a millisecond I felt that ¨falling¨ sensation, then the wind grabbed me and before I knew it I was flying higher than Lebowski, looking over the buildings and beaches of Rio.  The ride felt incredibly smooth, although quite short. The take-off was impeccable, now I just had to land. I followed my guide´s instructions carefully (he was strapped to my left shoulder): 1) Release my right leg from the harness--check 2) Straighten my body--check 3) Put my left arm over my guide´s left shoulder--check.  So far so good, but we were still going pretty fast and the ground was only getting closer. Approaching the sandy beach, I felt like the pilot. Unfortunately, I was actually the plane and my legs were the landing gear.I imagined hitting the ground and slowly running to a stop. However, when the moment of truth came, I took a step, but instead of running, I did a face-plant right into the hang glilder´s aluminum bar. Black eye # 2 (as you may recall, #1 occurred in the Galapagos). While we were laying in the sand, the guide quickly noticed my swelling eye. ¨Our take-off went much better,¨ he said. ¨You think?¨ Victor Lopes  Back in my first ever blog (Bogota, Colombia), I introduced you to Manuel Mendoza, one of two exchange students sent north of 56 to my hometown of Leaf Rapids, Manitoba. Well, Victor Lopes was the other guy who got screwed. Victor gave me more backstory on exactly how he ended up 12 hours north of Winnipeg for a whole year. Apparently, the agency handling the exchange didn´t tell him where he´d be going until one week prior to his departure. Eager for information on his new home, Victor  bought a Canadian atlas. One problem, Leaf Rapids wasn´t on that map or any other map for that matter. Talk about a surprise.(For current and former citizens of my little town, I´ve attached a video of Victor Lopes. He´s obviously been heartbroken since he left and is struggling to maintain the will to live.)When Sara and I arrived at the Salvador airport, Victor and his lovely fiance, Gabriela, were waiting with a rental car. Victor was my best friend in grade 11 and we picked up right where we left off. ¨You haven´t changed a bit,¨ he said. ¨Exactly the same...well, except with less hair.¨We then starting catching up on each other´s lives and not surprisingly, a lot has changed for the both of us in the past ten years. We´ve done a lot of growing up.  Let´s compare: Victor: owns car  Steve: walksVictor: lives in a penthouse apartment/used to live on the beachSteve: lives out of a bag/used to live underneath gay bar ZippersVictor: partnered in a successful music promotion companySteve: partnered in this blogVictor: dating his girlfriend for 5 years/getting married in JanuarySteve: dating his girlfriend for 7 years/any year nowVictor: opening up a new bar and a new restaurant in the upcoming months/will be richSteve: going back to school in the upcoming months/will mooch off SaraYeah, pretty much identical resumes.After learning about each other´s new lives, I then had to get to the bottom of something. --¨Victor, what´s with all the speedos in this country?¨--  (imagine in Portugese accent) ¨Speedo, what is that?¨-- ¨You know, really short, tight swim trunks.¨-- ¨Ahh speedo. Everyone in Brazil wears this. I have speedo.¨-- ¨No Vic, not you too?¨-- ¨Yes, and I brought one for you.¨ --  (laughter all around)-- ¨You think I´m joking, but I brought for you, I did.¨When we got back to the hotel, Victor, true to his word, produced a baby blue speedo for me to try on. However, I suspected it was his back-up speedo and flatly refused. ¨I will never wear a speedo,¨ I said.ReligionLike all of South America, the majority of Brazilians are Catholic. But, because the Portugese practically invented slavery  (3.5 million slaves from 1550 to 1888) there are many spiritual Afro-Brazilian religions as well.  At the Copa... Copacabana — Rio de Janeiro, Brazil http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/steve_sara/southamerica/1182129900/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/steve_sara/southamerica/1182129900/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/steve_sara/southamerica/1182129900/tpod.html Sat, 30 Jun 2007 18:56:48 -0400 DOS GRINGOS EN SUDAMERICA

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Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

SARA SAYS...Copacabana.My earliest memory of this word was when my cousin Sue had her first date at a bar in Sault Ste. Marie called "The Copacabana".  In typical Brunetti tradition, my family sang this song - cleverly altered by my Aunt Vicki - to humiliate Sue."At the Copa... Copacabana.  Susie and Darren at the Copa... Copacabana."  Repeat while dancing, until Sue gets mad.Ok, fast forward to the present.  What´s better than celebrating your birthday on the Copacabana Beach in Rio?  How 'bout nothing.Except as Steve keeps telling me, I am getting close to 30.  Look on the bright side... we still have two months left before we return to Canada and exciting stops like Venezuela and Colombia.  I will have some form of job when I return.  And I have a mature boyfriend with his head on his shoulders and his priorities in order.  Yeah right.Speaking of his maturity, I´m surprised we didn´t receive more viewer mail about the picture of Steve´s bare butt on his photo edition.  I guess it´s an unremarkable butt.I was concerned in my last entry that this photo would exclude us from Travelpod fame.  However, I just received this email yesterday (for real):"Congratulations! Your travelogue has been selected to be featured and has been added to our queue. Please keep in mind that we typically have several months worth of travelogues queued to be featured but you will be notified when your travelogue is featured on our main page."Finally, we´ve put those journalism degrees to good use.Ok, let´s keep this one short, for once.  I´ll just talk about the soccer game, my birthday and our "favela tour." SOCCER GAMENo trip to Rio is complete with a trip to Maracanã, the world´s largest soccer stadium.  The Lonely Planet and other guidebooks endorse such a trip, but suggest going in a group and/or bringing absolutely no valuables with you.  We decided to go to the game after visiting a local fair in the same area, so I chanced it by taking my camera.  In non-typical fashion, we arrived at the stadium hours early to get tickets. Good thing I took those Spanish lessons in Buenos Aires, it´s really doing a lot of good here in Brazil.  To me, Portuguese sounds like Russian or some other kind of gibberish.  From what we could gather from the hundreds of local police at the stadium, none of whom spoke english, there is nothing around the stadium except favelas (poor neighbourhoods).  So we killed time drinking beer in the parking lot, surrounded by the local police who were there to provide security for the game.The game was worth the wait.  It was Botafogo, one of Rio´s largest clubs, vs. Nautica, a small club likely about to get creamed.  Still, Botafogo´s fans turned out in droves.  You would have thought it was a Finals match, especially given the large number of firecrackers.The biggest excitement of the game was Nautica´s only goal, one of the biggest flukes that I´ve ever seen.  For your viewing pleasure, I found the play on Youtube.... http://youtube.com/watch?v=YIizaqbwg38This goal stunned the Botafogo fans for a few seconds, then fired them up further.  The result was two more Botafogo goals in quick succession, ending in a score of 3-1.  (See, I could write sports highlights too)Using the camera that I wasn´t supposed to have, I made a video of the fans when Botafogo scored Goal #2.  We were in the "calm" section of the crowd and were not robbed.  It was a good experience to see the Brazilian excitement and obsession with futbol with our own eyes.    MY BIRTHDAYIt has already been discussed in this blog that Steve is quite the penny-pincher.  This birthday, after indulging me with another morning at the beach, he sprung for an expensive experience for my birthday... a helicopter ride over Rio.(Sidenote: I´m sure this had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he himself has always wanted to ride in a helicopter and was excited to cross it off his list of adventurous things to do in his life)Regardless of his motivation, the ride was breathtaking.  We went just before sunset, and the highlight was circling the Christ the Redeemer statue.  The ride lasted 13 minutes but it felt like only 5 minutes.  Riding in a helicopter was very smooth, very loud and very fun.I think it´s funny that we´re both ducking in the photo in front of the helicopter.  The noise was so loud that we thought our heads might get cut off, when in reality, you can´t even see the propellers in the photo.  We enjoyed sushi for dinner, then went to Lapa for some samba in the evening.  It was a great birthday, and as Steve will likely point out, one of the most expensive days ever.  FAVELA TOURWhen I heard about people taking "favela tours" (i.e. a guided tour through the poorest neighbourhoods of Rio), I couldn´t decide if I thought it sounded interesting or voyeuristic.  I mean, if I was poor, would I want busloads of rich tourists riding around my neighbourhood gawking and taking pictures of my life?In the end, my interest outweighed my misgivings, mainly because of a recommendation from our hotel to go with a specific company that gives the social context of the situation.  Also, because I really liked the movie "City of God" and wanted to see if it was an accurate portrayal of life in the favelas.  (If you haven´t seen this movie, go out and rent it.  http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0317248/ )Our guide Christina told us that this movie was an accurate reflection of favelas, where druglords make the rules and people follow them.  Almost 20% of Rio´s population lives in a favela.  We went first to Rocinha, the biggest of Rio´s 750 favelas, and were told not to take pictures out of the window, just in case we accidentally took a picture of one of the "soldiers", the young look-out boys.  They were easy to pick out because while the streets were full of busy people, they were the only ones standing still.  An average worker on minimum wage in Rio makes R$350 a month (about US$175)... these boys made $R800 a month.  We saw the favela from above, a crowded mix of buildings covering a sloping hill with houses built upon other houses built upon other houses.  Our guide explained that the favela is also full of working class people, not just druglords.  The people don´t pay taxes or pay for electricity (take a look at a typical electrical box on the street) and live in close proximity to the places they work, such as the main beaches of Copacabana and Ipanema.  The close proximity of the favelas and the fancy beaches is one of the big contradictions of the city, which has the biggest disparity between rich and poor in the world.   We were told that it is forbidden for the people of the favela to steal from tourists, since it attracts police attention.  While I felt safe walking on the streets during the day - Rocinha really felt like a small city within a city - I´m not sure that I would test this theory at night.    We also went to a smaller favela, Vila Canoas.  Here, an Italian family sponsors a small school for about 100 kids.  In Brazil, public school only lasts for half of the day, so for the other half, many poor families send their children to beg for money on the streets.  Or, they become mixed up with the drug culture.  The top private school costs R$4000 per month, impossible for those who make R$350 per month.  This school, supported by the Favela Tour, occupies the kids for the other half of the day with classes, activities, snacks, a new computer room and even some scholarships.  There were lots of smiles here. The kids also sold crafts they made.  Natalie, these kids have mastered the magazine products!  (No purses like yours, though).  Steve was touched by the experience, so he reached into his heart and his wallet to buy a pack of homemade cookies.  ¨I just wanted to make a difference,¨ he said, as he quickly crammed them into his mouth. I´m surprised he didn´t ask if they sold any milk.We took a walk into the favela, a maze of tight spaces where you could definitely get lost.  We got a glimpse into some homes, many of which looked cozy with televisions, couches and pictures on the wall.  All in all, it was a very rewarding experience, especially interacting with the kids at the school.  If you´ve stumbled upon this blog and are thinking of taking a favela tour, I would strongly recommend this Marcelo Armstrong´s company. If you want to learn more about the non-profit that runs the school, their website is belowTour... www.favelatour.com.brSchool... www.parati.inf.brAccording to local news reports, the City of Rio has created a program in which city residents can rent rooms in their homes to tourists for the upcoming Pan American games, set to start in Rio in July.  Mostly in response to the high costs of hotels in the main tourists areas, it will be available in different areas of the city... including the Vila Conoas favela that we visited.  That would be an interesting story, following the tourist through their experience in a favela!A SPECIAL BONUS... CAPOEIRA While in Salvador, we saw some amazing demonstrations of Capoeira, a form of fighting/dance that originiated in northeastern Brazil.  I did not actually take part in this, just the photo op.  I did film two videos for you, to get an idea of what this dance looks like.  It looks even more amazing in person. UPCOMING ENTRIES....Tease for Steve´s upcoming entry:  he´ll talk about the "eye candy" on Rio´s beach, his experience hang-gliding off a cliff and Brazilian waxes.  We´re now in Maceio, Brazil.  We´re staying with Leaf Rapids´ other exchange student from 10 years ago, Victor.  Both our dreams have been realized.  Me - over 100 beaches.  Steve - cheap shrimp and crab.  Will we ever leave??   We´ll have another entry soon.Happy Canada Day!
]]> STUCK IN THE MIDDLE OF A DOMINEY FAMILY VACATION — Buenos Aires, Argentina http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/steve_sara/southamerica/1181771580/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/steve_sara/southamerica/1181771580/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/steve_sara/southamerica/1181771580/tpod.html Tue, 26 Jun 2007 09:18:21 -0400 DOS GRINGOS EN SUDAMERICA

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Buenos Aires, Argentina

SARA SAYS...First of all, some Brunetti family news.  Congrats to my sister Katherine, who just got engaged!  She and John will tie the knot on Dec 22.  I've always called her my "little" sister, since she is two years younger... but now she has a house and a fiance, while my stuff is in a storage unit and I'm living out of a backpack.  At least one of the Brunetti girls is mature.  The same definitely can't be said for the Dominey boys.  When Steve says you need the maturity of an 8-year-old to enjoy their humour, I think he's overreaching.  Spending three weeks dealing with the Steve-Scott combo is enough to drive anyone insane.  If someone calls me "Berutti" again anytime soon, they better be prepared to get punched in the nose.Note to Joyce:  You don't have to take Steve's trash-blogging lying down.  You are entitled to a rebuttal, which I promise to post with Steve's entry.  You gave birth to that boy, he shouldn't be telling the world that you're gassy.   Whoops, that almost sounds like I´m saying you´re gassy. No, no, no, Steve´s mom is not gassy. And for the record... yes, it's true that on my first day in Buenos Aires, a bird shat on my head.  But isn't that supposed to be good luck?? At least I was the one eating a steak and Steve was eating pasta, not vice versa as he claims in his blog. What was better with Joyce & Scott, and what was not(+) = POSITIVE(-) = NEGTIVE(+) Our overall quality of life improved with Joyce's arrival. Our hotels had stars (even if it was just one) and our overnight buses had seats that turned into beds and the bus attendent served champagne.  If I had money, I'd open a bus company like that in Canada and drive Greyhound out of business.      (-) Our increased travel budget had nothing to do with Scott, aka"Master Freeloader".  I think he even managed to get me to pay for him at some points along the way.  He's so sly that you don't even notice.  According to Scott, whose wisdom was passed on as I tried to contribute some pesos to the bill that Joyce was once again paying, "The trick is to never contribute any cash, even a small amount, so that after a few times, no one will even expect you to pay.  You should put that money away, Bertuzzi."  (That's Scott's own take on Berutti)  (+)  The return of my iPod. Those of you still mourning the theft of my iPod by nasty Ecuadorian thieves will be happy to hear that Joyce brought me an new iPod, filled with my own music.  Thanks Dad, I've got a nice leather wallet here with your name on it.  Happy Father's Day.(-) The loss of another iPod.  The return of my iPod is offset by the loss of Scott's, in a daring theft already outlined in Steve's entry, a theft that still makes me shake my head in disbelief.  At least they didn't get my backpack with my new iPod in it.... it would have only lasted a week!  (Just kidding Dad, this one's hidden in my bra as you suggested)(-) Scott's credit and bank cards were also stolen, eliminating any possible way of buying, or contributing, or paying for anything during his entire trip.  If it weren't for his outrage after the theft, I would have thought he arranged it.  (-) Argentinian bank machines.  We found only two bank machines in all of Argentina that would dispense more than AR$350 (about US$133).  This meant you had to do several transactions to get sufficient cash, leading to more banking fees.  Steve refused to take out money at these machines, claiming he was going to wait until he found one that gave larger amounts.  Of course, this meant Joyce and I had to take out money, and Steve had none for most of the trip.  Obviously someone was listening to Scott, resulting in another clever ploy to get mom to pick up the tab.       (+) The red meat.  Argentina has the best food in South America by far.  You should see these "bife de chorizos"... a new york strip steak, usually more than a few inches thick, no bbq sauce needed.  It makes the steaks at Remark Farms look like minute steak.  The best part is that the biggest one we've ever had here was only $10.  I would say the steak is the best thing about Argentina, period. Joyce:  "Don't you guys ever get sick of eating at restaurants?"When they're serving rice and beans, most definitely.When they're serving nice juicy steaks, a resounding no.(-) Too much red meat.  In Canada, I don't think Steve or Scott has even come across a piece of steak that they can't polish off.  In Argentina, the only way that I finished a piece of steak was to split it with Joyce, while the boys made it their mission to eat each and every piece of steak left on their plates.  This led to a condition that Steve called the "meat shakes"...  a condition that can only be described by picturing a piece of bloody steak on a fork, then a shaky hand lifting the fork to their mouth.  Total meat overload.      (-) Since Joyce left, we've had to downgrade from big steaks to the "menu del dia", the cheap food that all the Argentinians are eating for lunch.  Goodbye, Mrs. Moneybags   (+) Luckily for us, the menu del dia is often "mini" bife de chorizos.  These "mini" bifes are still larger than any steak you would get in Canada.  Our steak dinner yesterday was $3 each.(+) More red wine for me.  Joyce's arrival meant that I had a partner in crime for drinking loads and loads of wine.  This included good quality bottles purchased at wine stores for a few bucks, a series of tastings at a specialty wine tasting store and a spectacular day touring four of the best bodegas in Mendoza.  Joyce drinks white wine, which meant I got to drink all of her untouched reds.  As you can see, I take after my dad... my face turns red after too many drinks.  Mendoza is wine heaven.     Side note:  Go to the wine store immediately and buy a Malbec from Mendoza, they are fantastic.  My favourites were the Obra Prima Malbec (http://www.familiacassone.com.ar/) and the Ruca Malen Malbec (http://www.bodegarucamalen.com).  I shudder to think how much these wines cost in Canada, if they are even available.  I thought about shipping some to Washington, but the cost of shipping was too high especially considering they would probably already be gone by the time I visit.  (Sorry, Julie, but you know it's true!)      (+) Bikes and wine.  Last thing about wine, I promise.  Whatever genius came up with renting bikes near the bodegas must not be a cheap drunk.  That takes some skill!  By our third vineyard, we were definitely drinking and driving.  But it was the only way to get Steve and Scott to the bodegas.(+) Better planning.  Those who know me, know that I like to plan things.  I've been letting things work themselves out during this trip, but with only 3 weeks in Argentina, we had to be on our game.  I think it worked out well, even our pickstop in Parque Ibera.  I may have been the only one to enjoy it, mostly due to our Lodge there... great food, great rooms, great view, totally off the tourist path.  Plus, more alligators!  http://www.ibera.posadadelalaguna.com (-) I really like the name Brunetti.  I really hate the name Berutti.  I know what you're thinking, don't let them know that it bothers you.  It didn't at first, the first day, the second day, the first week.  By the second week, and them using it constantly, it started to bother me.  In the third week, when they added the theme song sung to the tune of La Bamba, it pushed me over the edge.  Steve says the name has legs and he's going to keep using it, but he won't have anything between his legs if he keeps this up.(+) A companion in adventure:  We enjoyed already-Sara-approved activities such as rafting (very cold water, leaky boots) and riding horses (this time, an even more beautiful landscape of the Andes Mountains).  Steve told me he would get me a ring if I got his mom to go skydiving, but I respect people's limits.  And Joyce and I shared the same passion for another adventure - shopping.  Oh, leather, leather and more leather.  And thanks to Joyce for taking it all home with her so my backpack is once again ready for more shopping action.(+)  An ally for relaxing:  Skydiving.  Paragliding. Trekking.  Rappelling.  Horseback riding.  Sure, I can do some of it, but do I want to do that everyday?  No.  Steve and Scott did.  Some days Joyce and I joined, others we didn't (i.e. wine tour day).  One day, we convinced them that they really needed to see "Alta Montana" near Chile, even if it meant a bus tour.  We were rewarded with one of the most scenic days yet.   Iguaza Falls  (+)  What, you actually want to hear about what we did for 3 weeks?  Iguaza Falls was an amazing site, especially from below in our speedboat.  It was worth the overnight bus there, wasn't it Joyce?  Definitely one of the highlights of South America for me.(+) I saw a toucan, just as we were about to leave the park.  The coolest bird ever!(+) Seeing 3 countries at once.  On a boat tour in Iguazu, Joyce and I were able to see Argentina, Brazil and Paraguay, all at one time.   Buenos Aires(-) The Obelisk.  Buenos Aires' landmark looks like a miniature Washington Monument.  The city loses points for originality and execution.(+) The neighbourhoods of the city.  La Boca and San Telmo.  Recoleta Cemetery.  Tango at Cafe Tortoni.  A futbol match.  Really, book your ticket to Argentina now!  Street shopping, colourful buildings, tango, wine and cafes. In La Boca, while Joyce and I were busy buying art and taking photos of the neighbourhood, Steve and Scott were taking photos of themselves as women.  Ah, what cultured boys they are. (-) "Boys will be boys" aka the Steve-Scott combo:  With one brother egging the other on, and vice versa, you end up with things like the naked butt photo, the bidet video and the gay-brothers-in-wetsuits photo shoot.  Ok, I may have taken those photos and even laughed at the bare butt photo.  But now I'm worried that this questionable content will hurt our chances of being a TravelPod favourite blog, since I thought we were a shoo-in.  Thanks, Steve, thanks a lot. I hope everyone you know makes the bare-butt picture the desktop for their computer. (+) Someone his own size:  It was nice to see Steve pick on someone his own size, and deal with the consequences.  At least Scott was good for something.Happy birthday, Joyce.  Hope you had a good vacation in Argentina, in spite of the fact that both of your boys are still boys, not to mention mooches.  Oh, and thanks for the wine tour, the hotels, the steaks and so on.  It´s difficult to go back to paying your own way again, after you've adopted the Scott Dominey philosophing of mooching.  Now I really am part of the family.After this week's spanish lessons, onwards to Brazil.  It's been so cold here, I can't wait to get back to the beach.  Hello, Copacabana!STEVE SAYS....I like this ¨Sara Says¨--¨Steve Says¨ thing we have going here, it allows me to freely intrude on Sara´s blog anytime I like. And it sort of has an 80´s television type feel doesn´t it? You know, when stars on the same network made cameos on each others shows. Since I never got laid, one of my favourite memories from University was when a bunch of us caught Jessica Fletcher (a.k.a. Angela Lansbury of Murder She Wrote fame) making a cameo on Magnum P.I. Did I just say that? Of course I´m kidding, a TV show being one of my greatest University moments. Ha...c´mon, it´s not even in my Top 5.But, to the reason I´m here. Sara deviously hid the video of her trying to mount a horse until after my blog was posted. Which leaves me with no other choice. Not only do I now have to show it to the world, I must provide a running commentary to the soundless masterpiece.(Before camera´s rolling)Sara: ¨Don´t shoot a video of this you asshole, get that camera out of here!¨ (Camera starts rolling---running commentary)   Sara places her left foot in the stirrup, pauses for a moment, then tries to use the saddle to pull herself up....Oh, I´m sorry, not this time.  She then takes the time to turn around. Watch her lips. ¨I said put that away, Scott, you´re such a little shit.¨ Another guy comes into the picture. Let´s see what pointers he can give our gal. First,  he drags her away from her ranting, then in a sweeping motion with his right hand, seems to tell her, ¨You see, what you want to do is get on top of the horse.¨ Sara replies, ¨Ok, got it,¨ to this vital piece of information, and.....she´s struggling, this doesn´t look good...she´s not going to make it. Then, in a last ditch attempt, the guy heroically pushes her butt atop the giant beast (horse).   Video closes with Sara flipping off the camera.the endI must´ve seen that video at least 20 times by now. I can´t get enough.However, while in Argentina, I also found the time to watch the NBA Finals, recently won by Argentina´s own Manu Ginobili and his San Antonio Spurs.  Here´s an example of a typical Argentinian basketball telecast for you sports fans: Telecast begins. Commentators introduce themselves. One of them happens to be Sebastian Ginobli, Manu´s older brother. I´m sure this won´t affect his playcalling.Game starts. Manu hits a three. Announcers go absolutely crazy, ¨Jee-no-blee.. Triple..Ar-hen-tina!¨ Commercial Break. Oh, Ginobili´s in an ad, some government sponsored message. Next commercials starts. Oh, it´s Ginobili again. He´s got his shirt off and is dribbling like a mad man. Gatorade: The Thirst Quencher. Next ad begins. What do you know, it´s Ginobili reading the local sports section. It´s on newstands now. He was shilling absolutely everything! I´m telling you, when you´re in your local supermarket, just keep an eye out for Ginobili Brand Tampons. ¨Just because Manu gets into the flow, doesn´t mean you have to.¨We´re back from break. Tony Parker and Tim Duncan take over the game for a solid quarter. Parker makes an amazing lay-up. Can we see the replay before the break? Nope, it´s a replay of the Ginobili three-pointer from 10 minutes ago. Fade into commercial. After the Spurs won in four games, I was half expecting the Argentinian station to arrange a separate MVP presentation where the spanish commissioner Pablo Stern would hand the hardware to Manu.Okay, cameo over, I´m off to Brazil.    SARA SAYS...We've got a real double-standard going on here.  I work day and night uploading pictures while Steve spends his time writing his blog.  The only thing I'm allowed to do on his blog is the layout of the photos that I've uploaded.  When I finally get to spend some time writing my entry, he's got to butt into that, too.  I guess 2 blog entries this time just wasn't enough for him.  For example, here's a snippet of an actual conversation we had last night....Sara (writing in her journal):  You know what you didn't write about in your blog?Steve:  What?  And why are you telling me now, I already sent out the email.Sara:  I was just writing about your mom and brother's last day here.Remember that homeless guy we saw taking a crap by the Congress buildings?Steve:  Oh yeah....Sara:  I thought that would be your kind of material, with the poop and all.Steve:  How could I forget that?!  That IS my kind of material.  Iwonder if the internet cafe is still open.  I could add it now.Sara:  But it's 1am!  I need to get up tomorrow morning for my spanishlessons.  You're going to leave me now?Steve:  Stop the presses!  Stop the presses!!! (goes running out the door)And in my own defense, the first time I tried to get on the horse, the guy told me to stop because the strap wasn't low enough.  I did get up the second time, with a helping hand.  You should be allowed to get on from the other side, with your right knee (my good one).  But otherwise the running commentary is pretty accurate.  Scott is a little shit.Ok, now we're really finished.   
]]> DOMINEY FAMILY VACATION - Photo Edition — Buenos Aires, Argentina http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/steve_sara/southamerica/1179602760/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/steve_sara/southamerica/1179602760/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/steve_sara/southamerica/1179602760/tpod.html Fri, 15 Jun 2007 15:01:52 -0400 DOS GRINGOS EN SUDAMERICA

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Buenos Aires, Argentina

STEVE SAYS...If you ask me, what could be better than having your girlfriend thumb through her old yearbook, willing you to relive those classic moments with her? What about the thrill that runs up your spine when your dad breaks out the old film projector for the holidays? Well, actually, the only home movie that makes me feel nostalgic is the Pam and Tommy sex tape. Ahh, the Internet´s golden age. I have a feeling I´ll be telling my future son about that one like how an old man complains about today´s music. ¨Now my boy, that was a sex tape.¨  Anyway, my goal today is to capture that same ¨heart-clenching¨ photo album excitement and bring it to the blog form. The occasion? A visit to Argentina from my mom and brother. Roll the highlight film:Joyce and Scott walk through the Buenos Aires airport gates and I´m immediately drawn to my brother´s head. He´s shaved it for the first time and I think I´ve got him. His hairline looks terrible, just look at that male pattern baldness. I think to myself, ¨Not only do I have more hair than him, but this is just the reason why I should hang on and not shave my head.¨ But just to be sure, we should literally go head-to head. The floor´s yours Michael Buffer:¨In the left corner, with a head weight of at least 50 pds, we have Steve ¨Beaver Pelt¨ Dominey. And in the right corner, at three-and-a-half years his junior, the one, the only, the ¨Rapidly Receding¨ Scott Dominey... Let´s Get Ready to Combover.¨  Judge Mills Lane: ¨Okay gentleman, I want to see a clean hairline. No Rogaine, special shampoos that promise to stop thinning hair, or whatever the hell Bobby Hull slapped on his head. Touch scalps and take your corners.¨ Sorry about that last picture, I needed to distract you from the fact that Scott clearly has more hair than me. By a long shot. I still look good though, right guys? Phew, that´s what I thought.  Now, it´s time to stroll through lovely Buenos Aires. Sara´s been taking photos of me mimicking statues in streets, churches and parks all over South America, but with my brother here, I think this exercise got a little out-of-hand. You be the judge: Photos taken prior to my brother´s arrival: Photos taken during my brother´s stay: Ahh, my butt in all of its glory. What was that mom? ¨You´re bloody 26 years old, grow up! That´s disgusting, who wants to see your ass anyway? You just ruined my day.¨   Actually, my mom wasn´t a fan of any of our posed photos, especially the ones we took at Argentina´s famed Recoleta cemetery (burial site of Evita). Me: ¨C´mon mom, it´ll be a hilarious shot. You and Sara just need to get down and bow to me.¨Mom: ¨No, I don´t see anything funny about it. It´s disrespectful.¨Sara: ¨Actually, I was thinking Steve and Scott could be bowing at your feet.¨Mom: ¨Okay, maybe just this one.¨In a cemetery mom? You should be ashamed of yourself.And that´s nothing. She rode a horse and a bicycle, drank exorbitant amounts of wine, paid for most of the dinners and hotels (love you mom) and even went white-water rafting.Readers in unison: ¨No, not more shots of you in a wetsuit?¨Me: ¨You guessed it suckers!¨   I know that was horrible for you, but just imagine the photo shoot. We actually got Sara to shoot those. Sara: ¨Okay boys, touch your toes, show me those luscious rumps. That´s nice, that´s nice, Scott, I´m really liking what you´re showing me. Steve! What are you thinking? More crotch thrust, more crotch thrust....that´s better. Beautiful baby, and that´s a rap.¨ And if you liked those, how about these two of Scott and I a dress?   C´mon, how happy are you that I didn´t actually wear a skirt? But while I refused to show my inner-Marv Albert, I think its become shockingly clear just how immature I am. And with the damage already done, I see no reason not to post these two videos Scott and I shot in Buenos Aires. One of them deals with the use of bidets in the country while the other takes a look at Argentina´s Playboy magazine.  In order to view them, you need computer speakers, patience, and as always, the sense of humour of an 8 year-old.  While you´re waiting for those to download, take a look at Scott´s attempt to make an Esteban-esqe transformation. Because there´s no spanish translation for the name  ¨Scott,¨  he´s asked to be referred to only as ¨Julio.¨ Still downloading? I know, I know, just keep reading and we´ll get there. In the mean time, I might as well clear my conscience about something that´s been bothering me. I killed that Austrian guy from Bolivia´s Death Road. Here´s the shocking proof: Actually, that´s my friend Jeremy´s handy work. But now that I know this type of photo manipulating service is available, the sky´s the limit for these blogs. In the next edition, look for me partying at Brazil´s Carnaval (held every February), comforting Paris Hilton in her jail cell (sadly only available in pathetic grainy, night-vision) and hoisting the Stanley Cup with the Anaheim Mighty Ducks. Speaking of which:You didn´t think the Sens would win did you? Ahh, how adorable. Let´s see some more:  That last one is my favorite. Cue bowl of cream of wheat slamming: Beautiful. Just beautiful.
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