Monday, May 24, 2010

What I will not miss about travelling

And to be specific.. Hostels. (The computer I{m on has a different keyboard, and I can{t figure out how to make quotes or apostrophes, so bear with me)
Last night I awoke to a

ohh UHh

sound.

I was not happy.

Sure enough about 15 seconds later the sound maker gets out of bed awkwardly hunched over and delicately walks out of the room to the bathroom. Did that dude just wet dream?

The layout
This guy has his top sheet looped around the rail on the top bunk (he sleeps on the bottom bunk) so he has a sheet wall creating a little private cubby. When I went to sleep the sound maker also had his laptop back there .... SURFING THE INTERNET, oh god. For the hour before I fell asleep this mouth breather was breathing even louder than usual, and I swear I heard some wet noises. Ill derail for a second and bitch about loud, mouth breathers. Do you not notice how fucking loud you are? Doesnt your mouth dry out?

Also
My mp3 player is ancient. When I first showed it to Dutch he exclaimed
Holy Shit! It also comes with a workout plan!

I stared back with a confused look. He picks it up and pumps it like a barbell.

Oh you sonofabitch

My iRiver H320 from 2002 kicks ass. I had this bitch playing video years before the iPod Video came out, AND I can listen to radio, and record the radio. The feature all you apple jerks wish you had? Two lines out, so two people can listen without using a splitter or putting one headphone in each persons ear, because if you even have a splitter, you can{t find it when you need it.

Downside to my iRiver h320..
It stops working at high altitudes. It says there are zero files on the harddrive, and thats that. I run into this issue every time I fly. I eventually realized if I turned it on early in the flight (before you{re really high up) it worked just fine. You cannot turn it on and expect it to work once youre way up there.

In Merida I had a big problem. The city was so high up, my mp3 player never worked. And there was NOTHING to do during Semana Santa, fuck. On day 2 or 3 I had a brilliant idea.. put the mp3 player in a plastic bag.. turn it on.. squeeze bag for the 30 seconds it takes to get going therefore simulating a lower elevation with the increased air pressure. BINGO! It worked! I had the same problem in Medellin (except when there was a high pressure weather system. Medellin is right on the edge, so if it was rainy or anything the pressure dropped just below the threshold and the mp3 ceased to function again)

Bogota is so high up (I guess, or there might be a problem with my baby) that no matter how hard I squeeze the plastic bag it still tells me there are no files.

Why is this relevant?
I couldn{t drown out noise makers shenanigans with some Tupac or David Guetta, I had to push through it without any help.

Later today noise maker started chatting me up. Said he had to get up early and teach a 6am class (freelancing gringo English teacher) and that he always sleeps through his alarms that early. So on the occasional days he has the early class he stays up all night. STAYS... UP... ALL.. NIGHT... ......

This mother fucker didn{t wet dream, he fucking busted one out in a room with 7 other strangers attempting to sleep. ahhhhh, not cool. This reminds me of a time I was at a computer lab in Auckland and the guy next to me started jacking off to erotic literature. To be fair this computer lab was trying to be modern looking and was really dim, but damn dude, you looked like you were having a seizure.

This afternoon I was hanging out at the Platypus hostel (like normal) and the Mexican guy in the group wanted to hear some terrible jokes. The group consisted of myself, black american guy, white brit, white aussie, half colombian half american girl, darkish israeli guy, and the darkish mexican.

Some people went for it and threw down some pretty rough black and jew jokes. When people ran out of their most offensive jokes the mex said he had a really terrible one. He was right, it{s pretty bad. Nothing I couldnt handle, but the colombian american girl didn{t find this one tolerable.

He says..
What sound does a baby make when you put it in a blender and turn it on?
Fuck, I dont know I was too busy jacking off.

Ba dum pshh
Thats all folks.

Sunday, May 23, 2010

Bogota

I have a lot of things I want to write about but I have been feeling extremely lazy the last few days. I am in Bogota now with a flight home on the 25th... not sure what I am going to do with myself when I am home, but hopefully it will be constructive. I honestly dont feel like being a tourist anymore, and I wonder if I should have spent the last 3 months going through Bolivia, Peru, and Argentina (maybe I would still give a shit about museums, or maybe I would be even more burnt out, who knows). That way everyday I could have a new city in front of me every few days, and maybe feel like I actually accomplished something during my time in South America.

I never even made it to the Coffee region in Colombia! Fuck. I am also regretting never making it to Giron, Villa de Leyva, and San Gil. I will tell myself that this might be a good thing, as it gives me something new to do when I come back to Colombia in the near future, but I dont think its working.

Saturday, May 22, 2010

Mexican Cartel - Baby daddy

A few days ago I woke up to a text from Dutch earrrly in the morning (5:30) that didn't make much sense. He normally isn't awake until 9-10ish, I didn't think too much of it and figured he'd call me later and explain.

Sure enough around 9 he calls me sounding very nervous and rushed. His first words are..
"B, is there room at your place?"
Groggily, "Uh yea, I think some people left yesterday or the day before. Why?"
"Ok, good. I'm coming over. I need a room."
"Yea? What happened?"
"I'll explain when I get there, see you soon." Click.

I met him at the door and helped him check in and get his room. I'm staring at him silently waiting for him to explain what the fuck is going on. Dutch has been sleeping at L's place for the last few months. Did they break up? Have a fight?

He finally understands my dirty look and motions for me to follow him into his room and close the door so no one else can hear our conversation. (this must have looked suuuper gay)

Sitting on the corner of his new bed fidgeting, rubbing the side of his face and looking down at the floor he finally begins..
"It started a couple days ago. People calling my phone asking questions about me, all on different numbers. Last night someone kept calling over and over, I answered at around 3:00. It was some girl asking if I remembered her from Leticia, says we fucked a lot and that she misses me and wants me again. L is lying next to me in bed listening to all of this, so I had to explain to her that this was all lies man, uhgg that took forever. This girl kept saying she wanted to meet me somewhere in Medellin, and using the same nickname L uses for me."

"This sounds like the guy in Mexico fucking with you."
"Yea, we determined that. She's trying to get me isolated man, this guy is trying to fucking kill me. L told him I left last month, but he obviously knows that's a lie. One of her cousins who is good friends with this guy has my number, he even has pictures of my face. Fuck man, I can't walk around the center anymore. L wanted me to set a time to meet this girl, but then she would go and fuck this girl up."
"I don't think that's very safe for her."
"She said he might kill her to get S (L's daughter)."
"Hm, yea. Killing you or her makes his life easier".

Now, a couple weeks ago Dutch and I have already had some conversations about this guy working as muscle for the Mexican cartels. That consisted of this bit:
"That guy better fucking die soon man, he's really pushing it working with the cartels. In his position, it's only a matter of time"
"We can only hope"
"L mentioned setting something up to kill him, but if it didn't work he would definitely come and kill her. If this gets too bad, I'll just marry her and take her with me."
"How will that work with her black list thing?" (L can't leave the country, she's on a gov't watch list of some type)
"Shit I don't know, but I can't just let her die here. I was thinking about sending those people in ------ (a small colonial town) a message asking if they would let her live there if things got really bad, I would send them the money. It would be some place for her to hide out, no one would know where she is except us."
"That might be a good option to have."

L recently told Dutch that while we were in Cartagena one of her friends called in a favor. L dressed up all hot and slutty and went to a certain store to distract a guy. Her instructions were to get this guy to walk to the very back of the store so her friend could shoot him, it was a success. This is basically the same tactic being used on Dutch.

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

The Spiral / Mother's Day

The first time L killed someone it was on accident. She intended only to put fear (I don't know why) into this girl by surprising her with the barrel of a revolver pressed to her temple. In all the excitement a finger found a trigger and split this girls head open.

Dutch compares the life of L to the main girl in "Rosario Tijeras", I just watched the movie a few days ago and it is surprisingly close. L's older brother bled out on the street from bullet wounds right in front of her at a fairly young age, which was a contributing factor to L's future violent actions. After she accidentally wasted that girl, she started to freak the fuck out and got involved with her Uncle's antics. L's mother recently told me this Uncle used to cut the feet off of live cows for fun, this guy is not a good influence on anyone.

It's midnight the day before Mother's Day and I receive a text from Dutch saying, "B, you're coming tomorrow".
I already knew he was going to L's sister's apartment for a family get-together, but I had no intentions of inviting myself or coming with.
"But.. I don't want to crash your thing with her family."
"I knew you would be like this, that's why I told you were coming, I didn't ask."
It was final.

I didn't even consider to ask where this family hangout was taking place until we had been in the cab for 20 minutes. I forgot the name of the barrio 30 seconds after they told me, but it was in the North of Medellin, a fair ways up the valley wall.
(In Medellin, a basic rule of thumb is the further south you go, the safer the neighborhoods are. The north consists of barrios resembling the shanty-like buildings you see in pictures of Rio de Janeiro. Another generalization of safety here is the higher you go up the mountain the shittier the neighborhoods get, of course there are a lot of exceptions, but it's generally correct.)

We walk up their steps, through their front door, and there are a bunch of faces I have never seen before.
"Aqui", the apparent man of the house (everyone is dressed up and he's in his boxers, nothing else) says to me and puts a cold
beer in my hand.
"Oh, hey watch out. They're going to get us hammered today, it's only a matter of time until the break out the whiskey." Dutch warns me.
Sure enough 2-3 hours and several beers later I get a glass with a few ice cubes in it and about 6 shots of whiskey. Fuck.
I'm trying to be polite and converse with these people, and they keep impeding my efforts by making my brain useless.

Someone brings out a chess board and a conversation of who vs who runs on for a few minutes. Thankfully I dodged the bullet and the first match (match? game?) is between Dutch and Boxers Only.

They apparently have two chess boards and L challenges me to a duel. We prop the table on a stool on the front balcony overlooking the street and a small community park. The day is beginning to cool off, the sky is a few shades darker, and children are out playing soccer in the park. Aside from the drug dealers hanging out in the part of the park with a few closely placed tree's, the atmosphere is heaven.

This was one of those moments you capture in your mind and cling to. It was during this time I began to realize how hard it is going to be to leave not only Colombia but specifically Medellin. I really felt like I belonged, L's sisters apartment and awesome family are giving me flashbacks to my home-stay in Suva, Fiji (one of the best experiences of my life).

Now, I haven't played a game of chess since 3rd grade. Which was also when I first learned how to play it..
I polished off the glass of whiskey only to have it replaced with a splash of coke and another 3 inches of rum. uhh "What are the rules again?" I struggle to muster up. L on the other hand, is 100% sober.

She begins by taking 6 of my pieces and severely neutering my attacking ability. My ego damaged I swallow the remainder of my glass and devote all of my focus on showing some cojones. L's sister comes by and throws 3 more inches of rum in my glass before I can politely decline, god dammit people. Somehow I am able to kill a few of her pieces, so if I lose I at least have something to show for myself.

All the while I'm wondering.. do I let her win because she's a girl? Nah, chivalry is pretty much dead anyways, ladies want equality, I'll show her equality. Do I let her win because she's Dutch's gf? Or because she has invited me to a family gathering and pumped me full of alcohol and food, or do I let her win because she has killed at least 8 people and I know she has a tazer stronger than the electrical outlets in The States resting in her back pocket?

Nah I really want to beat this bitch. I'm finally getting into the chess game and really, really, do not want to lose.

Nearly an hour later I finally hit her with a check-mate. In order to show her the upmost respect.. I stand up on my stool (quite wobbly as L's sister filled my glass for a THIRD time during the match) and shout some "whoo's!" and "in your face!"'s.

Instead of tazing me she just put her face in her hands and moped a little, I'll call that a success.





Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Aimless Abroad - Now with (a few) more pictures.

I jammed some pictures inbetween the blocks of text on my previous posts. I think they disrupt my rants a little, but that might be a good thing. There are more to come!

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

TOV - Aids, and L's background

While Dutch, myself, and the Brits traveled along the coast up to the Guajira Peninsula (pic below) he was waiting for some news from L. She is really paranoid of Aids and takes a test every few years. She does the 2 part series where the 2nd round comes 3 months later to guarantee that you didn't contract it a few weeks before your first test.



L has a little girl of 4 (I think) years.

Her baby-daddy is up in Mexico working with the cartels you're probably reading about in the news (if you're in the USA right now), making some $$ and sending it back to L to kiss her ass.

Dutch was feeling a little nervous about her Aids test because he wasn't as smart as he should have been with a girl in Ecuador - he came to Colombia after Ecuador. He wanted to get the phone call from L that her test came back negative before he went back to Medellin, because if she was positive.. she would probably kill him. And if not kill him, try to cut off his dick or something, she wants to be around for her daughter, so anyone standing in her way is going to get fucked up.

L lives in El Centro, which is one of the worst parts of the city to live. The pollution and homeless beggers laying on the sidewalks hit their highest density here. There is a hooker that will fuck you without a condom for about 30 US cents that hangs out around their street. Last weekend Dutch and L woke up in the middle of the night and looked out their window to see a crowd of people fighting and screaming.

A bunch of white guys had caught a black guy (he stole something) and were trying to hold him down while a guy swung a machete at him. Half the crowd was calling for blood, and others were shouting to let him go. Apparently shit like this is not all that unusual for them, so they went back to bed.

Two weeks ago L found a homeless guy sleeping in their stairwell on the top floor, which is where they live. My place in Prado Centro a few blocks away has two main gates/doors that require keys, their door off the street just swings open.

L first filled up a pot with water and threw it on this guys face, jolting him awake and confused.
She began screaming at him and kicking him in the stomach and face, stomp, stomp.

The man tries to get up while being fiercely kicked and falls down the stairs.

The edges to these stairs are not rubber like they are in some places in the States, each lip here has a sharp metal plate screwed to it. This stair well also does not have hand railings..

This lack of hand railings means when the man barrel-rolled off the top floor instead on crashing down one flight of stairs, he rolled off the sharp edge and hit the stairs after the landing that were further down. Crashing down face-first and then grinding down the remaining starts until the second landing he came to stop barely conscious in a growing pool of blood.

As he tried to get up and run (before his tumble off the stair ledge) he was shouting, "Porque Yo, porque Yo?!?!". (Why me, why me?!?) This haunts me a little.

Later that day Dutch and L saw him laying on the street, possibly unconscious.

The thing about this that bothers me the most is that because this guy was homeless, he hardly had enough money to feed himself. He DEFINITELY does not have money to go to the hospital and get some help. This guy's teeth were all fucked up (those that remained in his mouth) and his life just became that much harder.

"Tales" of Violence - Continued 2

During our strolls around Cartagena, and over a few beers from a Balcony in the Old Town at night before we hit the clubs Dutch brought me in on more happenings.

It is important to point out that L (his gf, remember?) is nearly 30 years old. This means that she grew up in the most violent times in Medellin, when Pablo Escobar was doing his thing. ($5,000 to anyone who kills a police officer). -> a small fortune at the time.

When L was around 7 years old (I'll check this and correct it later) her mother took her to see a dead black dude. This guy was murdered on the street and left on the sidewalk to rot for over a week. When L saw this rotting body, it had sat in the sun for about 5 days, while people stepped around him and went upon their daily routines.

Dutch said she was still able to describe the scent and sight of the maggots boring into the discolored flesh, also, this man was not shot to death. He was hacked by a machete.

L's Uncle apparently was involved in a lot of shady dealings and brought her into the shit as she grew up.. it shows.

"Tales" of Violence in Colombia

Before I go any further I'm going to post this warning in case anyone in the DEA or legal person of any kind would like to use my words in court.

"The stories and information posted here are artistic works of fiction and falsehood.
Only a fool would take anything posted here as fact."

One of my favorite things about traveling is that you can make a "close" friend in a day. You typically cut through the bullshit and will give up secrets you normally wouldn't tell anyone at home.

Even though these friendships are forged over a short amount of time, I think they're just as strong, and in some case even stronger than "normal" ones.

Over lunch that first or second full day in Cartagena with Dutch he told me about his hellish experience in a hospital in Ecuador. He's 23, and has some major kidney stones, after numerous tests in ghetto Ecuadorian hospitals finally deterined.


[Cartagena]

I decided to tell him about my hydrocele, one of my balls has a bunch of fluid surrounding it. Pretty sure it was caused by a hit to the groin during soccer or the time I caught the business end of a metal baseball bat in 5th grade. The doc's won't do surgery on this bad boy until it's causing me extreme amounts of pain, which will probably slowly increase over the course of a few weeks, months, or years because recovery time is 6-8 weeks of hell (so they tell me). Dutch on the other hand is going to feel completely fine one minute, and then the fury of god will be striking him down when he tries to take a piss.

He is going to be in incredible amounts of pain with absolutely no warning. I told him I would rather keep my hydrocele than trade with him, he on the other hand preferred his issue. Comparing our trips to the urologist with someone you have only known for a few hours definitely opens the doors for more conversation.

It also turns out we have both experienced very similar pregnancy scares, the interesting thing is we were both freaking out at the same time for the most recent ones, laying awake in bed during the same nights.

At this point either of us really has nothing to hide from the other, he decided to let me know about his girlfriend in Medellin named "L", and her acquaintances.

One day Dutch was sitting with one of L's coke dealing friends for lunch. The tables were near or on the sidewalk and some guy walks over towards them shouting giving them shit. Words are exchanged with the coke dealer and random guy. The random guy is holding a big pink bunny stuffed animal and throws it at the dealer, Dutch is still sitting at the table, fork in hand, wondering what is going on.

Random guy calls the dealer some word that sounds like gonorrhea (this word is apparently extremely offensive).
Dealer jumps up from the table, pulls out a butterfly knife whips it around in front of this guy's face, whilst holding the knife in his right hand punches the guy in the face (note what that would look like from the random guys view).

Random guy falls down on his back, dealer stands over him and starts stomping on this guys face and throat for a few seconds. Takes his foot off his face, looks at the damage, decides it's not enough and continues to stomp in this guys throat/face a few more times. He flips the butterfly knife back into it's smaller shape so it fits in his pocket, strolls back other to the table, sits down, and goes back to eating.

Confession - Bar

I.. like.. a reggae bar.

I don't know the name, but from the South East corner of Parque poblado, you walk about 50 meters and it's on the left. There's a big patio thing with tons of people sitting around.

I'm not sure why I feel embarrassed to like a reggae bar, I know a year ago I would have said it with no shame. I think it's because all of the gringo hippies here are so fucking dirty and annoying. They all seem to have weed farms at home and wear nothing but hemp, and carry around 6 little bags filled with string and other crap they made and are trying to sell.

These people are the reason for comments like, "fukkin' hippies". If I had to touch their hand, a large glob of purel would be the next thing touching my hand.

Within the first few minutes of my arrival they played a Caribbean/Latin American version of Rihanna's You Don't Love Me, and Akon's Mama Africa, they were very well done, and I was smitten.

The clientèle is pretty much all college kids, which is pretty nice after navigating through old dudes in Blue or other bars near Parque Lleras.

Monday, May 3, 2010

Disorganized Thoughts - week 2.5 in Medellin

Yesterday the guesthouse I am staying at received some new faces. For the first 10 days I stayed here the group of people didn’t change at all, now in the last three days we went from half-full to turning people away for a lack of space. Semi-related, the longest staying resident (6+ months) just moved out less than 5 minutes ago because he found a cheap place within walking distance of his school. He was a cool guy (taught English in China for a few years, so we had a lot to talk about), but I won’t miss waking up in the late morning to his girlfriend’s squeals while they fucked. His room was the penthouse upstairs, so her uh’s and ooh’s echoed down through the open laundry space right through my bedroom window.

Annyways, I was hanging out in the foyer area when three newbies poked their heads in. One was/is a cool older Jew(we talked about Israel and Jordan a lot, plus he gave me about 25 movies off his hard drive) named Moses, maybe 60. I think he’s in Colombia just to see what it’s like post-Escobar before he dies, the other is a couple from Florida.
“So, what is the area around here like”, asks the guy with his novia.
“Crack heads and underage prostitutes”
*Moses throws his head back as a flinch and grimaces, then nods with acceptance pursing his lips together.

Throughout our conversation I tried to tone down how shitty our neighborhood was, but I couldn’t lie and mislead them. If you want a nice clean safe neighbor hood that feels like an extension of the US, get your ass back to Poblado and don’t leave your padded room. Voluntarily living in Prado Centro is to live in the “real”, grimy, disgusting Medellin that is a much more accurate representation of the city.

“Is there any good nightlife around here?”
“Only if you take a cab or walk straight to the Metro, the streets aren’t safe at night”
“Oh..”
“Well, I guess you can—in some places—but you have to turn on your ‘don’t fuck with me face’”
“What does that look like?” He smirks, waiting for me to provide an example.
Christ, this guy is going to get eaten alive out there.
“It’s your atmosphere, you have to eat and breath confidence, walk like you know where you’re going no matter what. Like you’ll rip anyone who gives you shit apart”
I will fill another post on just this matter later..

This guy made me think how green I must have looked in Cartagena.
“Omg there’s nearly naked street beggers covered in 2 months of filth pissing and shitting in the streets”
“Eek, no traffic rules, or driving lanes, how do I cross the street?”
“That hooker is looking at me, oh no, aids!”

Later in the evening I was out having a few drinks with some of my local friends (in Poblado, I’ll mock the neighborhood, but Poblado has 90% of the cities bars, alright?).
It was my first time “partying” near Parque Lleras (full of gringo chumps paying for sex or taking girls they barely know on shopping sprees and shit so they can fuck them later).
Thankfully we were about 4 blocks off the square and around bars that actually had near-local prices again. We sat on this little ledge overlooking the street, I had a local girl under my arm, surrounded in good company, speaking Spanish well enough to carry a conversation; life was good. I think back to my first few days in Medellin and reminisce on my “green-ness”, once again struggling to even remember what worries were on my mind at the time.

The rumors about Medellin being a hotspot for gorgeous women is completely accurate. You can’t go on the Metro without running into a Colombiana that would stand out in a crowd back home. All of this hotness DOES come at a cost though.
Bitch list:
-Sex tourists, fuck off you pervy twats that can’t get laid at home. You are pathetic. You ruin it for every other man by throwing cash at these girls all day long. I woke up two days ago to a text from a girl saying, “Corazoon! No tengo dinero.. :(“

She invited me to go to a Finca with her friends this weekend, two days before we’re supposed to go she says she doesn’t have enough cash, and that she can only go if she can *somehow find the dinero* -> i.e. convince me to pay for everything, perhaps even for her friends too.

Another guy at this guesthouse gets calls everyday from women asking for 50mil or whatever to “tide them over” for a few days.

Two weekends ago the female friend of a girl I was hanging out with (I had only known this girl for a few hours) goes up to a street vender late at night, grabs a bunch of shit, then looks at me and sticks her hand out silently waiting for me to put some paper in it.

Bitch, I am not an ATM.

I can keep going with these examples but I want to save it for another post to really do it justice.

All it takes is a few guys without backbones to give in to these stupid demands and the whole city is wrecked. Every girl here seems to have a friend who is extorting cash from a North American or European, so when they meet one in a bar.. they want a sugar daddy too.

The girl I was out with last night went up to the bar (on her own) and bought me a beer while she got her own drink. I was absolutely astounded. I told the guys back at the guesthouse and received, “that’s when you know she’s a good girl”, “you better hold on to that one” and similar comments. The only problem is that I don’t get the “butterflies” with this one, that could be another post on it’s own.. again.

To wrap up this spiraling mess of a post, cute girls in Medellin that don’t want your money DO exist, it just requires a lot of searching, and that’s a shame.

Saturday, May 1, 2010

Travel Disappointment


There may not be a volcano over South America but there is a cloud of dust spewing from the DAS (immigration) office. Dutch is a really smart guy, but he's also really fucking dumb. One of the Brits even called him Autistic, but I think it's more of a semi-savant thing.

The first or second day we tooled around Cartagena he shared his experience with a shaman in Tena, Ecuador. He made the entire experience sound quite awful.

Cliffs of the conversation from my fuzzy memory:
"So, before you drink the ayahuasca a Shaman cleanses you, which basically means spitting water in your face and beating you in the head with a branch. The translator said my spirit was far away, so he had to do it for over an hour. There are these tribes that base their entire religion around ayahuasca and trip out on it all the time, it' basically a cleansing ritual. And by cleansing, I mean hours of shitting and vomiting in the jungle when you don't know what's going on. Forget about your body man, it's all about the mind".

Yep, he really sold me with that..
A week or two later when we started hanging out with the three Brits he told them the story too, at that moment they planned to do ayahuasca together in Tena whenever they left Colombia (their final destination is Buenos Aires, nothing unusual there). I said ayahuasca didn't appeal to me and that I would stay in Colombia or Venezuela, depending on where I was at the time.

7 weeks of pondering and countless google searches later I decide to man up (a few days ago). Fuck it, you don't get to trip balls in the Amazon with a shaman everyday, let's do it. Some of the comments online about ayahuasca were quite fascinating, someone described it as unlocking a door, walking through it, and turning around to go back only to find that the lock has changed -> meaning that ayahuasca is a one way street; it'll change you forever.

Dutch said his trip lasted nearly 10 hours, and for the next 30+ hours he was basically a zombie. Sitting hunched over thinking and thinking and thinking. He had some major life changing revelations and I was already letting myself imagine what I could possibly think about for my trip as we planned to leave this Sunday, meet the Brits in Quito and then head over to Tena by Wed for the Shaman.

During lunch this afternoon I asked him how long he has been in Colombia, he nearly drops his fork and looks at me with wide eyes as if a strange hand just grabbed his balls from under the table. "Fuck fuck fuck man, how the hell did I forget about that?!"

*few seconds of silence

"So you're over the 60 days then, huh?"

My question actually was directed to his total time in Colombia (because you can only stay 6 months every 12 months, [although I later remembered that the rule is now 6 months every calendar year, so if you timed it right you could actually stay for a straight year]) but it made him realize he's overstaying his tourist visa... by 20 days.. that's going to be quite a large fine.

We quickly polished off the rest of our rice, chicken, and fried plantains then Dutch ran off to figure out how fucked he was. I get a call a few hours later.

"Uh B, I'm not going anywhere on Sunday. I'm really sorry man. I have to come back to the DAS office on Monday to figure out how much my fine will be."

CRASH
My dreams of rolling around on my back in the dirt staring at the sky through the tops of the trees is taken away from me. The Shaman Dutch was going to take us to wasn't just any Shaman, I guess this one is really famous, it wouldn't be right to go without him, I don't even know if we could find the right spot without him. Plus I was going to have to spend about 30 hours on various buses just to get to Quito, only to turn around and reverse the path a few days later.

I can't really be mad, because he didn't have to invite us do it with him, and no one is more pissed off than he is. We still haven't gotten a response from the Brits yet from the Facebook message bearing the bad news, I know they were all looking forward to it for the last month.

But I am definitely disappointed :/ maybe we can find a shaman around here but it won't be the same without the Amazon backdrop and accompanying sounds, but I guess it's better than nothing?

If I ever have the opportunity to give it a go, I'll definitely write a follow-up.

Cheers