Highly unemployed

What have I been doing since I got home you ask?? Well, other than NOTHING, here's a taste of my re-americanization.

First, I went out in Boston and purchased several $5 beers, which was budget crippling.
Second, I registered my car for $142, which was budget crippling and downright unexpected.
Thirdly, reconnected my cell phone, which only took 3 hours on the phone with some verizon customer rep from Atlanta or Texas. A pleasing day time activity to be sure.
Fourthly, I went to the dentist, which is an costly day time activity.
Fifthly, to combat my wallet hemorraging and also to reconnect with my fellow american bretheren, I went to Walmart. And as suspected, both the parking lot and store interior are filled with what scientist call; wife beater wearing WT.

It's good to be home.

Things I missed most while being away (in order of importance):
1) TIE: Hidden Valley Ranch Dressing and my Family
3) TIE: Bagels and my Friends.
5) Thick maine accents
6) My middle aged woman car (Burgundy in color) that is making a disagreeable thumping noise near the front right tire that wasn't there 6 months ago. I CAN'T wait to fix that one..
7) Being able to communicate with over half of the population.. very underrated.
8) 4 consecutive episodes of sportcenter in the morning.
9) Anna's super Burrito with everything over there (pointing to a collection of condiments near the burrito maker).
10) A lot. but mostly, home.

I will be kind of out of internet range for a good portion of August, but I will be putting up posts from time to time. So, if you have any interest, I hope you keep checking out what this exceedingly mature, well-groomed traveling intellect who exclusively writes in cursive is up to. By the way, Chilean soup tasted like crap and so now begins the "American Pot Pie" phase of consumption.

Unofficially home

I am a 25-year old male, continually dabbling in a quarter life crisis. Having left South America (with zero pay, a nomad lifestyle and a kick ass mullet), I packed up my belongings and returned to the United States. I know approximately 2,000 people in the U.S., my english is improving, and i love Sahne Nuss Chocolate bars (which don't exist in North America). Join me as I become a re-matriculated citizen in my own country. (PG-15 and three quarters).
ps. I hope the re-matriculation ceremony includes a ribbon.

Unofficially, The End.

Goodbyes suck ass

Sentimental side note of the day (part two of a two or three part series): I had to say farewell to the Arniboldi's last night because they stayed up at their ski house for the long weekend, and I needed to get back to Santiago to catch my flight. I was incredibly fortunate to meet the Arniboldis and I will never be able to repay them for their generosity, hospitality and for them taking me in as their gringo son. They played a huge role in the success of my trip, and were are big reason I ended up coming to South America to begin with. Furthermore, they taught me that Chileans dominate most board games and that mostly countries with latitudes of 49 degrees or higher host indoor tennis tournaments. It was a sad goodbye, but I am confident that we will see each other again in the future. (They will certainly be seeing a lot of me during Season III of Lost).

Another sentimental side note: The Arniboldi's have a massive furry white dog. I have never been able to remember his name, so I just called him "oso blanco" (white bear). Sadly, white bear is on very sick and may have cancer. This make me very sad, because I love to goofy bastard. Dogs just moved from On notice to Chill with Me.

On the topic of animal humanity, I think I need to confess a certain incident that occured about 8 years ago on Interstate-95. I was driving down the highway with my highschool girlfriend going about 75mph, and while passing a line of cars that were moving slowly in the right lane, a mother duck and her 10 ducklings in tow started crossing the highway. When I saw them, they were about 200 feet in front of me. I had three options:

1) Stop my car in the passing lane from a speed of 75 mph and with traffic behind me. This was a bad option.

2) Vear my car over into the other lane, thusly either engaging in a high speed side collision with the car next to me, or running that car off the road. This was a bad option.. OR

3) Staying the course and wipe out a full family of 11. This was an unfortunate option.

Long story short, it was either us or the ducks, so the mother duck met my front bumper with a thud, and the remaining baby ducks (who I don't think I explicitly killed) were left to fend for themselves without a mother. I still hold out hope that a few of them survived.. WHY COULDN'T THEY HAVE BEEN PIGEONS??? or giga pets?? I feel bad.

Along those lines, I have given up my angst towards many things:

Chill with Me: Dogs, Dinosaurs, Steak, Ear Muffs, Duck Duck Goose, Argentine Vendors laughing at my 'Benjamins', Olga, Shats, People giving me horn, Stray Dogs, Sahne Nuss.

Upgraded from "On Notice" to Chill with Me: Bolivian Buses, Screaming kids on buses kicking my seat and farting, Not outsourcing my travel planning, Dish rags.

Upgraded from "Dead to Me" to On Notice: Chess, Mandarin Oranges, Hangovers, The Secretary of the Treasury, salami.

Still Dead to Me: Mamushka Chocolate Store, persons who stole my Camera, Nalgene, Spaulding Jacket, ski gloves, ear plugs and headlamp.

I am Sorry: Ducks

If there was a male equivalent to a ski bunny, I would have been it.. (perhaps a ski moose or ski mountain lion..)

I Just returned from a ski weekend with the Arniboldi's, which can be considered a wild successful for the following reasons:

1) I got a new nickname: I have never had a nickname. However, since I now have stupidly shaggy hair with a detectable mullet, they have stopped calling me Estuar and now refer to me as "Sawyer," (the guy who has stupidly shaggy hair and trouble with authority from the TV Show, "Lost"). To make myself feel better, I now call "Pedro" (the tall, skinny 15-year old Arnibolidi with short hair) "Hurley" (the 4oo lb. fat 30-year old with long hair and an imaginary friend from "Lost"). I don't get it either.

2) I entered and won a ski race on Saturday. This impressed the Arniboldis. And as Lucho (Father Arniboldi) pointed out: It was especially impressive since I had been on a deserted Island for the last two years.

3) There was a lost in translation story, which always provides me entertainment:. I was watching Tennis with Lucho, and I asked him "Where do Roger Federer's endorsements come from?". Lucho methodically began telling me that Canada, Russia and a few other locations in Europe are where most of the indoors tournaments take place. However, those tournaments are typically boring, lack the high profile players, attract crappy sponsors, etc, etc.. About 2 minutes into his answer, he speculated "I think we misunderstand one another.. you did not ask about indoors tournaments, did you??" I said, "no... endorsements... but it is good to know more about the indoor tennis too".

4) The ski/snow pants I borrowed made me look sleek and slender. So too did the rear entry ski boots.

Things that weren't so successful: my ability to win board/card games against any member of the Arniboldi family. Games they destroyed me in on multiple occasions this weekend:
Connect Four (0-2)
Poker (0-1)
Chess (0-7) (I lost one game in 4 moves)
Othello (1-4)
Bullshit (0-2)
Dice game where bluffing is heavily involved (1-15)
Mario Brothers (0-1)
Sudoku (1-1)
Rocks Paper Scissors (1-2)
life (the game and real thing) (0-36).

Basically, I was humiliated. But I DID win a ski race in purple snow pants... against 10-years olds.

It's like "Speed" meets "Groundhog day" only i don't get to make out with Sandra Bullock or the bad actress from Groundhog Day.

It is almost redundant at this point, but... My bus broke down on the way back to Santiago. We experienced electrical difficulties while crossing the Andes, leaving us stranded on a mountain pass with over 10 feet of accumulated snow for three hours without heat. I played Sudoku to stay warm.

In total, I spent 364 hours on buses in the last 6 months, which if you do the math is more than 15 days (two+ weeks) of bus riding. This includes 14 overnight trips sleeping (more like unsleeping) on buses. In other words, 1/12 of my trip was spent in a bus seat. And most of that time was spent saddled next to crying toddlers or an imposing (size-wise) seat mate. (I got peed on once too).

Overall, I have covered over 20,000 miles by bus, plane, car, boat, dingy, strawboat, 4x4, finicular, train, foot, bike, gondola, donkey, etc. Ok Stu, we get it!! enough complaining about transport. (And to that I respond; I just want to give reason to any future case of hemorrhoids).

The last leg of my journey ends at the Arniboldi's in Santiago, Chile. We are going skiing this weekend, and I am borrowing their extra ski equipment that, as they pointed out, was last utilized by a middle-aged woman many years back. ALL I can hope is that the ski pants don't make my butt look fat.

Sentimental side note of the day (part one of a two or three part series): I have no idea how many people read this blog, but I have heard from many of you and I appreciate your mostly kind words. I understand how it could be hard or annoying to read about some unemployed 25-year old wandering around South America visiting national parks, checking out the South American nightlife and getting goosed by midgets while you are working hard back home. (I know most of you are particularly jealous of the midget goosing incident). I just wanted to say that I really appreciate you taking the time to read one, some or all of my postings, and writing these posts has be really fun for me. And if you didn't get a shout out, let me know, and I will try to squeeze you in in the next few days. Thanks, Estuar Pole (My name to every South American who tries to pronounce it).

March of the Penguins... or Brazilians if you prefer.

Bariloche is a destination ski town attracting visitors from around the World. And by "around the World", I mean mostly Brazil. The town is bustling with Brazilians who just want to get a glimpse of snow, make snowballs and throw them. Each person seems to be having the time of his or her life and parades around with a massive smile comensurate with a guy who just received a paid weekend getaway to Vegas with his friends from his girlfriend, wife or wives (assuming they practice polygamy).

Since Brazilians don't wear anything but skimpy swim suits, none of them own any winter clothing, and thusly, they all arrive here and rent ski outfits. Variety is a little spotty...

If you notice, the people are waiting in line for ski lifts, yet they don't have any of the necessary equipment to actually ski. Instead, they go up to the mountain wearing moon boots, have a snowball fight while waiting in the lift line, ride the lift up the mountain, have a snowball fight up on the mountain, and then ride down the lift down where they point and laugh at each other for wearing such stupid outfits. It's a vicious cycle.

In other news (And I can report this after the fact (mom), because I am not in a wheelchair): I nearly broke my neck when I accidently skied off a 12 foot cliff and landed on a flat section which consequently ejected me out of my skis and I proceeded to land directly on my head, leaving a 5-inch deep imprint of my head in the packed/wet snow. Immediately thereafter, I obviously took out my plaster of paris kit and saved the formation.

This just in: I am about to get on my final bus journey of my trip (20 hours).. I can no longer see the monitor through my cascading tears of sadness.

More luggage lightening.

I lost things of sentimental value again (montage set to Leanne Rhymes "How do I live without you" or Barry White's "My First, My Last, My Everything" below). I had my Spaulding Polyester Jacket and my swix ski gloves stolen. I bought the Jacket in Australian a while back, and it made me feel cool. Now I will have to rely on my Patagonia Fleece.. which we all know is Social Suicide. On a less important scale, the gloves were about 6 years old and had yet to fully mature.

My Jacket, along with my friend's Jacket were taken from a Bar last night. Christy's jacket contained a her camera and credit card, which is infinitely worse than the items I lost in my jacket.

Items such as a camera and/or credit card are quite common at a bar establishment. What isn't as typical are the items I had in my pockets while visiting the bar/nightclub last night. In my left pocket was my ear plugs, Bolivian coins and a half-roll of toilet paper, and in my right pocket was my gloves and my headlamp.

I wonder what the thief was thinking when he rummaged through my jacket pockets... "Sooo.. I just robbed this guy who definitely frequents nightclubs as evidenced by the coolness of his nifty jacket, but apparently he thinks the music is too loud, doesn't trust the supplied single-ply TP and clearly thinks the level of light is inadequate.. Weird. Oh well, I guess I should get back to my video game and being the miserable piece of shit that I am... MAAAM.. MEATLOAF!!!

I am obviously pissed about losing my stuff, but I feel worse for Christy. If there was ever a bright side to having my camera stolen in Peru, it is that it CAN'T be stolen again in Argentina.

One other note from the evening: The rock band at the nightclub was pretty good, and the English lady we were hanging out with asked them upwards of 8 times (in complete seriousness) if they would play a Britney Spears song. It was kind of like a drunk chick asking Pearl Jam to do a bang-up rendition of "My heart will go on" by Celine Deon.

RIP Blue, Blue and White Spaulding Jacket. 2002-2006 (Cue Barry or Leanne..... now.)

Caught taking a photo of a photo of a party of cinco

Soo.. I was telling you about the man with 4 wives. There is a computer in the Hostel with a backround picture of the happy couple (multiple??), and I wanted to take a picture of it for documentation purposes and to give myself a hearty laugh 5 months from now when I am withering away in a cubicle.

I had to be covert in order to take this picture, and when the opportunity arose to take it, I grabbed my camera (my backup film camera) and zoomed in to get a good close up of the happy Party of 5. (fyi: Neve Campbell was not present). Unbenounced to me, my film camera (which I hadn't used in one calendar year) was on red eye shutter flash, and when I pressed down to take the picture the intricate 7 second strobe-light process commenced. At about second 2, one of the 4 wives (NOT Sarah Love Hewitt) walked around the corner and saw me taking a picture of the computer. After darting into another room, the final flash finally flashed and the camera took very magnified picture of the beige wall. The lady proceeded to turn off the monitor, and thusly I only have a mental picture of the love pentagon.

Other news: I used shampoo in the hostel shower today that smelled like chicken.
In a related story, I am off to go eat steak. (My fingers are crossed that the restaurant sells meat-scented conditioner..)

Revenge of the nerd (and some weird freaky deaky $hit)

I'll admit it; The loss of my water bottle was an operator error. I got off a bus, put him on the sidewalk while organizing my luggage and then walked away leaving him chilling on the curb. I am pissed at myself for this, but don't worry, I am not as distraught Tom Hanks was when he lost his volleyball in Cast Away. (Although, i did take all my clothes off and wore a dangly piece of cloth around my waist for a few days).

I was persuaded to put on some additional layers when I arrived to Bariloche, Argentina (via a 20 hour bus ride), because Bariloche is a ski town, and ski towns typically have climates that require more than shredded loincloths. (Although, I will probably test this theory).

I have traveled to Bariloche before and decided to return for my last week in South America because I liked it so much. Actually, the real reason I came back was to eat $8 filet mignon at a really good steak restaurant, buy almonds wrapped in Chocolatey goodness and cast a spell on the Mamushka Chocolate Store (Reference Blog : April 14, 2006).

One thing I didn't prepared for: Staying at a hostel that has four attractive female employees in their mid to late 30's... and learning that they were ALL married to the same 60-year old man. Hostel Polygamous is a cool place (and by cool, I mean cheap), and the vibe is somewhat "Eyes Wide Shut," as you never know what type of freaky stuff is going on next door (like woman 1, 2, 3 or 4 performing an at-home catheterization) or if the old man is going to plop dead on the floor due to frivolous overstimulaton. I'll obviously keep you posted on if he drops dead. But don't hold your breath, the guy must be like the energizer bunny.. or at least a NBA Player.

Forced goodbyes are the hardest.. Take Care little buddy..

I lost my Nalgene water bottle with the blue strap and worn duct tape. This upsets me almost more than having my Camera stolen. Seriously.

I am sure you all possess those items of minimal economic value, but you have had them so long that the sentimental value becomes lofty. Well, that was my water bottle. Water bottles do not typically have long half-lives, so our courtship over the last few years was something special.

The last places my water bottle was with me:
1) Squished up against the cold bus window by obese woman in adjacent seat. What a shitty way to go.

Please view the following photographic montage with a heavy heart and either the song "What the world needs now, is love, sweet love" by Burt Bacharach or "Happy Together..." by The Turtles stuck in your head. RIP white water bottle with blue strappy thing and duct tape. 1998-2006. Forever yours, Stu

Excuse me a moment while I weep mightily (yet masculinly).

"I am sorry sir, we are going to have to ask you to go hump yourself"

After 40 hours of bus rides, I made if from Bolivia to a Chilean City named Iquique. I had a flight the next day from Arica, Chile (5 hours north of Iquique by bus) to Santiago, but I knew my flight made a stop in Iquique. Mmm.. the wheels were in motion.

Effectively, (and to make this more U.S. friendly) I was in Washington D.C. and had a flight the next day from New York City to Atlanta with a stopover in Washington D.C. As a major in Economics and a graduate of nursery school, I knew it was in my best interest to ask the airlines if they could change my ticket to embark from Iquique, rather than Arica. This seemed quite reasonable, and I believed my pleadings that I had just endured 2 straight overnight buses and the thought of another 5 hours on a bus to Arica ONLY to return to the spot I am right now made me suicidal would more than cripple the heart cords of the lady working at the airline desk.

In addition, I winningly (eventually losingly) pleaded that I had ALREADY paid for the seat of the first leg and they could re-sell my seat on that flight if they preferred. Afterall, generating revenues for big, greedy, face-less corporations is something I strive for.. (So too is halitosis, scurvy, hangnails, a heavy dose of thalidomide to curb my future pregnant wife's morning sickness, male pattern baldness, etc..).

Understanding my dilema, the lady at the counter said she could ABSOLUTELY help me out for a change fee of $160. My rambled thoughts at this moment in time: "WHAT THE F! Are they kidding me with this $160 bull$hit? The plane is going to stop in Iquique anyway! It's not like I am causing them any inconvenience! In fact, I am one less person to give their shitty peanuts to on the first leg of the flight! Not to mention, I smell gamey as hell after not showering for 2 days and the lady sitting next to me on the last bus was comparable to an incoming tide in terms of slowly sneaking her oversized body over on to me/my seat. I paid for my seat. She didn't. (I should have asked her to compensate me a percentage of the ticket fare commensurate with the percentage of my seat she occupied). Similarly, I think she shattered my clavical when pinning me up against the ice cold window.. I can hardly contain my excitement for my first Sahne Nuss..

After the thought bubbles dissipated, I suggested that it would be cheaper to buy a one way ticket from Iquique to Arica for $50USD, and then fly from Arica BACK TO IQUIQUE and then on to Santiago. She said "Yes, but that would be stupid."

If I knew how to say "you just proved my point asshole" in spanish, I would have been dropping that line like Mr. & Mrs. Jackson dropped Michael as a baby.

Long story short, the 5 hour bus ride was the perfect night cap to 2 days on a bus, and I was utterly giddy with resentment when we stopped over in Iquique today on my flight to Santiago.