so south america...

My good friends Blake and Patrick are off in South America seeing all they can see. And this is what they have seen. -- bryan

uo!ëO

South America.. the land of gauchos, ceviche, and bolivian bed bugs. Ah, the majesty, the temerity, the unknown unknowns.

B: And then there was Patrick.
P: Hi.
B: Note the crowd that gathered just for his hair. The beginning of a legend.

B: After dirty Lima, our first stop were the sand dunes of Huacachina.
P: We did all we know how to do. Frisbee.

B: Patrick made me take an Abercrombie shot.
P: It was to appease the Sandworms.

P: Blake loses his frisbee and jumps headlong into the abyss.
B: It was just like that scene in Return of the Jedi.
B: Wow. Way too many nerdy references ALREADY.

B: We took a night bus to Arequipa, 12 hours from the dunes. It was "economico".
P: It peed coolant all over the highway in the middle of the night...in the middle of the desert...in the middle of the long exposure photo.
B: WhaT!

B: In Arequipa we ate tasty 3 sole ($1) vegetarian menús, and drank with a few local Peruvian dudes. They forced me to play guitar and then laughed.
P: One of em asked me to teach his 9 year old son saxophone the next morn.
B: What Patrick's "rusty spanish" conveniently overlooked was the fact that this guy's 15 year old daughter was the sax player, not the 9yrold boy. There was some reference that night to "saxo sexo".
P: By you.
B: Anyway. It turned out it was the wrong type of sax, and she ended up giving Patrick a lesson.
P: At least I didn't give her my number.
B: Note to reader: Patrick lies for your entertainment.

B: The dad gave us a wooden mask as a present.
P: Im the one in the middle.

B: Hey! That's me!
P: Blake wont let me upload the one where her arm is around him.
B: I work with kids for a living. I'm ruined.

P: What i wake up to every morning.

B: We passed quickly through the crap-ass town of Puno, skirting the southern border of Lake Titicaca (highest navigable lake in the world, yea!) to the Bolivian resort village of Copacabana. Patrick matched our hostel.
P: On the stormy, windy, misty roads up and down through the Andes we passed not one, but TWO overturned passenger semis, one still on fire with people strewn everywhere.
B: I had to tell Patrick about these, since he wouldn't look.
P: Hold me.

B: Titicaca.
P: Bolivia claims they got the titi, and Peru got the caca.

P: Bolivian security.

B: Bolivian Armada. No joke. Check out the fast-pursuit watercraft in front.

B: Boating it to Isla del Sol, where the sun was born in Quechua legend, Patrick and I happened upon a particularly new-looking hostel with a lake view. He soaked it up.
P: Stop stalking me.
B: Well, SOMEONE forgot to bring a memory card bigger than 32mb AND a usb transfer wire. SOMEONE. Who could it be? Who? Who, Patrick?

P: Blake, smug, after escaping bolivian armada.

B: Patrick felt a bit overexposed in the high altitude.

B: Feeling better now.

P: This is the attitude of all fauna on the island.
B: Precocious.
P: I dont even know what that means.

B: Isla del Sol, in all its...
P: ie, the view from our $3 a night penthouse.
B: 'nuff said. Until next time.

6 Comments

Posted on 11 Feb 2007 by blake