All Manner of Treachery

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Peru:

In 2006 a waterfall called Gocta was discovered by the outside world. Natives had kept it secret for centuries, fearing the curse of the mermaid who lives in the pool below. It´s the third highest waterfall in the world.

I once saw a family of five on a single 125cc motorcycle in India, I thought they´d reached the weight limit for such a small bike, but Lima proved me wrong. Although there were only four, they were four hefty men.

Ecuador:

I´ve only known Ecuador through the window of a bus. It reminded me of what a child depicts in a finger painting: black and white cows, green grass, blue sky, and white clouds. Things seemed to be in order.

Columbia:

An interesting thing happens in countries that, due to unrest, have been closed to travelers in recent years; the whole country sets out to prove that they really are a nice place to visit. It´s happening in Columbia now and it makes for a good time. People are incredibly friendly, and inordinately helpful –if they don´t have an answer for you they´ll go and find it. Besides that Columbia is beautiful, I´m reminded of scenes from ¨Mighty Joe Young.¨

We know a guy who works at the U.S. embassy in Bogota. He and his wife hosted us in their posh apartment, fed us prodigiously, and gave us tours in their car. On Independence Day they took us to the Embassy to celebrate properly with other Americans. The Embassy is beautiful, although it´s not in the best part of town. Just before we arrived there we passed the seedy looking ¨Eros Motel, ¨ known for its hourly rates.

The Ambassador gave a moving speech. I got a little emotional and, despite my country’s flaws, I am proud to be an American. His speech included mention of the 2007 hostage crisis with the FARC. The Columbian army gave one of their helicopters a decoy paintjob (mimicking the Red Cross), and boldly flew into the FARC´s camp. Someone who was able to mimic the FARC commander´s voice had, moments before, been on the radio with the camp´s leader, explaining that the Red Cross would be permitted to transport the hostages to another FARC stronghold. The order didn´t make a lot of sense, but the rescuers had the nerve to stay in character, and since it appeared to be the commanders will, the hostages were released. ¨Counter-terrorists Win! ¨

My knowledge of Bogota´s previous mayor, Antinus Mockus Civicus, made me predisposed to falling in love with the city. Mockus, as he is affectionately known, is the most unconventional politician I know of. To encourage traffic law observance he hired an army of mimes to make fun of j-walkers etc. Accident rates fell drastically. He made a television commercial that featured him, in the shower, explaining how to bathe without wasting water. Thanks to his water campaign there is potable water piped through the entire city (nearly unheard of at this latitude). Mockus would regularly dress as ¨Super Citizen, ¨ -complete with spandex and a cape- and wander around downtown gaining support for his initiatives. I find his style of politics refreshing. So many politicians get their way through corruption and domination, Mockus twists people’s arms, but he does it righteously. At one point Mockus got up to make a speech in an auditorium full of rowdy students. The crowd simply would not quiet down; he was unable to begin his speech. Mockus coolly walked to the side of the podium, did an about-face, and mooned the entire student body. He waited patiently through their uproarious reaction, and then the room fell silent. He pulled his pants up and proceeded with his speech as if nothing had happened.

We’re in Cartagena, Panama, an old pirate town through which a lot of South American gold passed on its way to Europe. Concentric stone walls, and several forts, were used in defense against many ransackers, including Sir Francis Drake. Although the city has a new face, the pirate vibe remains, including general pirate iniquity. The assortment of prostitutes is astounding: fat, thin, tall, short, African and Latin. The only common trait seems to be ugliness.

There are no roads through the Darien Gap (between Columbia and Panama). The area is controlled by the FARC and abounds with all manner of treachery. We´re looking for a boat in order to circumvent these problems. It looks like it will cost about three times what we anticipated. Ouch! I guess we´ll write it off as an investment in our own future.

This is my blog archive, read my most recent stories at www.thewholeworldround.com

An issue arises in unguided travel, there’s nobody to tell you the names of the marvelous things you see. No doubt they’ll soon have an iphone app that can visually identify plants, animals, and landmarks (I hear the droid can look at random things around the house and tell you their online cost and where the nearest vendor is). Anyway, until apps get even cleverer, I’ve resorted to naming things myself.

Around Machupichu there is an exotic, red-leafed plant that caught my attention. In order to keep the memory from fading I need a way to refer to this plant, even if only in my own mind. I named the plant Sylvester. I reckon I’ve got just as much right as any other human to name things. I’ve got names for all sorts of stuff: waterfalls, constellations, cloud shapes. You should name some stuff too, like Adam did. Make the world yours, it’s fun. You may, down the line somewhere, find yourself at odds with the Audubon Society or the National Observatory. Should this happen, it’s ok to let them think their name has more clout than yours. They’ve been naming things for a while. But at the end of the day, lest you become tempted to deny your authenticity, remember what Dr. Suess said, “Be who you are and say what you feel. Those who matter don’t mind, and those who mind don’t matter.”

Who can be trusted? It’s an important question when you’re traveling, especially when you consistently seek out the cheapest lodging in town (often dormitories which house occasional grungy travelers but primarily native temp workers). An ongoing issue for us is the importance of conveying trust to the people we meet. When you walk in to a hostel dormitory, head straight over to a locker, and put your stuff behind a fatty padlock, you are effectively screaming distrust to everyone in the room. And it’s a shame. Extinguishing trust is a crappy way to initiate relationships with new roommates. Witnessing is what we’re all about, and I’m totally stoked that we regularly have opportunities to talk about Jesus. I feel, however, that without trust, witnessing is painfully handicap. Jeremy and were discussing this problem, and he had a good idea. When we do feel the need to be protective and whip out the padlocks, it is helpful to make a joke out of it. “Hey I trust you guys (Jeremy might say to our new companions), but this joker is always trying to rob me.” And he would point in my direction. Obviously this doesn’t convey complete trust by any means, but it draws a laugh, and lets people know we would prefer to assume the best. We’re trying.

We’ve been staying in an amazingly hospitable home in Lima for the past few days. Our friends Josue and Caleb have neither running water nor sewer, but they’re clever enough to live comfortably without those luxuries. Both brothers are studying theology at the Adventist university in Lima, Josue is spending an extra year studying Public Health. I was asking Josue about his plans for the future and he said something that really inspired me. “I think I will work here in Peru or another third world country (he’s well connected, super witty, and speaks perfect English…he’s got options). I don’t want to try to live a ‘comfy’ life while there are so many people who need me here. It’s about where you are needed, not where you’d be most comfortable.” What a magnificent attitude!

I can’t believe how mountainous this part of the world is. In a lot of Peru there just isn’t any flat ground. And yet they farm… anywhere and everywhere, often building terraces, often just planting regardless of pitch. I’ve seen yucca growing on cliffs that would be rated 5.7 in the Yosemite Decimal System. I’d need my harness and a belayer to feel safe harvesting, but the folks here don’t seem worried about it.

Tomorrow (Monday) at noon, we board a bus that will arrive in Bogota -also at noon- but on Thursday. I only memorized my times tables up to the 12X12, but I’m pretty sure 3X24 is a ridiculous number of hours to spend on a bus. By the time we arrive in Bogota we’ll be swatting the great great grandchildren of the flies we were originally swatting in Lima. I’m wondering if they’ll stop to clean the bathroom. I have a method of dealing with this problem though; if I eat enough white bread I can usually get constipated enough to keep to myself. ‘Til next time…