tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59634907887476195622024-02-07T18:03:27.718-08:00La Pura VidaA sample of my revelations found through travel, sport, martial arts, culture and much more in the continuous exploration of la pura vidarngerlachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03205236235131275270noreply@blogger.comBlogger88125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963490788747619562.post-79180491558536759872013-07-06T12:47:00.001-07:002013-07-06T12:47:59.530-07:00Adventura-Guay Part I<div style="text-align: center;">
A quick 3 hour boat ride across the Rio de la Plata (River Plate), the wide river mouth separating Uruguay and Argentina, and we set down in Montevideo. The night was cold and misty. We quickly put on the jackets, put lights on the bikes and pedal away from the port to the hostel. A welcome surprise at the hostel awaited us, a friendly guy from Ft. Worth, Texas willing to lend his nice beach cruiser bike to Anish. It comes included with an extra innertube, pump and helmet. That was easy! What's next? Dinner, let's grub. We take a quick stroll across the plaza to the first place we see open. Upon sitting down and warming up with some vino and whiskey across the table, a part of the ceiling falls and hits the ground, reminding us all how lucky we are for not sitting below that tile, the rest of the trip may have been history. Well we live to enjoy this meal. What's for dinner? </div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Chivito. What's that? </div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
BAM</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_OlliMS2BAjOooHhkglzR7Yy51Cv37-pk0XYCe8AFofupHqQTAfPyQhhWr2C1H9nNv1b3DsEAStOSaOeRI6GoZ2sVSzmOMuG2hNbSD7tmMZGRH7QXTpIpR_FYvq3PzWp_o_zV5jl0fo7f/s1600/935905_10152963885850556_1740312812_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_OlliMS2BAjOooHhkglzR7Yy51Cv37-pk0XYCe8AFofupHqQTAfPyQhhWr2C1H9nNv1b3DsEAStOSaOeRI6GoZ2sVSzmOMuG2hNbSD7tmMZGRH7QXTpIpR_FYvq3PzWp_o_zV5jl0fo7f/s320/935905_10152963885850556_1740312812_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chivito Uruguayo<br />photo courtesy of: Jason Adams</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The photo above explains why we did nothing else for the rest of the night, food coma. We arise early the next day ready to ride to the bus station and get up to Punta Del Diablo. Fortunately, we see an ad in our hostel for a house to rent in Punta del Diablo, Nao Tem Fim (Portuguese for there's no end). A nice house run by a guy named Nico. More about Nico in a little bit. On the ride to the bus station, I get the first flat of the trip. Oh boy, here we go, already one innertube down. Willi Whit the trip mechanic quickly changes out the flat while providing instruction to Anish, changing a tire 101. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dy43Hu43z_iMopuZ91z9LdAJLQ4llFu3sdyRxihHciKveebjjobS-pWUgZFVR2DfhUdqU1yaMKYrvYAb9gwNQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The rest of the band continues to the bus station to ensure we can catch a bus to Punta del Diablo with six bikes, no easy task. Fortunately it's low season. Luckily we score a bus leaving at 2:30pm, it gives us a couple hours to hangout at the bus station/ shopping mall/ food court. Total cost of bus trip is $35us + $8us for each bike. Four hours of riding up Route 9 de Uruguay from Montevideo to Punta del Diablo on bus and we arrive in Punta del Diablo and it's already dark. The bus drops us off and we're lost already. Good start to the journey. We all quickly turn on every flashlight in our possession in order to put our bikes back together.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZSuZJxUTIViA1NFVwVWJ1SKWmOlVAF3x_7KUSy_2TMvhIl54m4CWFNKhc8-4ld-TWzEdS1zESIQhHdUfZmX76XlgPjGi-0B94BEsV9-BAi9ZNFylCcLqXHDabIxff0aduZGXkT90SWH2-/s1600/1009738_10152963885890556_266942814_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZSuZJxUTIViA1NFVwVWJ1SKWmOlVAF3x_7KUSy_2TMvhIl54m4CWFNKhc8-4ld-TWzEdS1zESIQhHdUfZmX76XlgPjGi-0B94BEsV9-BAi9ZNFylCcLqXHDabIxff0aduZGXkT90SWH2-/s320/1009738_10152963885890556_266942814_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Putting bikes together in dark after arriving to Punta del Diablo<br />photo courtesy: J Adams<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
As we're wondering which direction to go on the main road, a nice girl rides by on a sweet beach cruiser bike. She offers her generous help. Her name is Mariana. She's so nice that she goes back home to get a collection of maps. Some are of Punta del Diablo, some of the whole departamento (state or province) of Rocha, some of Uruguay. She's the bike angel who answered all our prayers. Then she mentions Don Diego is the place to go eat and watch her and friends dance to candombe. Candombe is a style of music influenced from African slaves, much like tango and samba of Argentina and Brazil respectively. It includes 3 drums and provides enough beats to dance all night. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
First, we must find our house, Nao Tem Fim. This place is dark, very few street lights and no sense of direction because the sun has disappeared on us. After 20 minutes of riding in all directions, we find the house. Nico and his dog, Limonada, are awaiting us with a heated home. Life is good!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
After settling in, we take Mariana's recommendation and go to Don Diego, the only open place in the village. We're the first tourists this place has seen in over a month it seems. For a good hour, we're the only people in the restaurant, accompanied by an old man named Luis. This man, Luis, is like the Uruguayan Socrates of our trip. He's a silver-tongued devil charming Brett, the one girl with us and telling us his many life stories, some believable, some not so much. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwSYYpzlbU3WIIiexeiMjiLacOJrfGY9_D5dps9gp6_y94EKZJFihOmKrXTl0fjkGG2zpxxLZeawnSNiDTDqBq4eB4cLO49TLQmQoEEdrdz_QwFJ-z2fuNz-mivYfsJsdpwmbGzNm844PP/s1600/IMG_1118.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwSYYpzlbU3WIIiexeiMjiLacOJrfGY9_D5dps9gp6_y94EKZJFihOmKrXTl0fjkGG2zpxxLZeawnSNiDTDqBq4eB4cLO49TLQmQoEEdrdz_QwFJ-z2fuNz-mivYfsJsdpwmbGzNm844PP/s320/IMG_1118.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Luis, aka Uruguayan Socrates, flossing with a knife after one of his many stories<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The nice server comes to show off his beer pouring skills, ''with or without foam?'' He tilts the glass with the beer bottle to pour without foam, the man's got skills so let's stay a while. The best of this night is yet to come. Mariana and friends arrive with the candombe drums. Then, what none of us expected happened. An old man rolls up to the bar on his wheel chair, ditches the wheelchair for his cane and struts into the bar, this is the party man of the century. He gets the whole restaurant dancing to the candombe drum beats, ''Vaaamooooo chicos, vaaaamooos,'' he screams from the dance floor. How can we say no to a man who was just in a wheel chair and is now dancing? We all join him with our own gringo-styled version of candombe dance. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyFlc2JqX5ubM3OOXyrHP2gdMVpSgPzkk7FmKTdbOMbYY61KqtdauUvifmC1vi5S6iTo4ncL49fxmGUF4wvB7OLPDtylP89q2OkzSSV7vFgWH4NZlWAxbHv2Lq3ZJ9GD9alMjaEpbZYhmW/s1600/1002231_10152963886010556_19144591_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyFlc2JqX5ubM3OOXyrHP2gdMVpSgPzkk7FmKTdbOMbYY61KqtdauUvifmC1vi5S6iTo4ncL49fxmGUF4wvB7OLPDtylP89q2OkzSSV7vFgWH4NZlWAxbHv2Lq3ZJ9GD9alMjaEpbZYhmW/s320/1002231_10152963886010556_19144591_n.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the ol' man dithced his wheel chair and showed us how to dance!<br />photo: J Adams</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The rest of the night is a blur, dancing with the kids, grandfathers, brothers and sisters of the Punta del Diablo village. This is why we love travel, nights like this!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The next day, we awake to a beautiful, sunny day. It's already noon and we haven't eaten yet, we take a quick ride down to the village to get some food. After a nice meal and sharing stories of the night before, we get our first glimpse of the beach...</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE0uD3PDlTfS2zXqEYVgjPAY_DAJV59Bq1mDNMfml33Jx-b2sZqji7VFcc9kOOM8Y2l2MPP8rJliVoKorGEqIsOT9TlJ_DQVBVKu0K7BjxOQdFVWEZGUnV5KQ79a1HK6OBftJxMZXed_Lp/s1600/IMG_1124.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE0uD3PDlTfS2zXqEYVgjPAY_DAJV59Bq1mDNMfml33Jx-b2sZqji7VFcc9kOOM8Y2l2MPP8rJliVoKorGEqIsOT9TlJ_DQVBVKu0K7BjxOQdFVWEZGUnV5KQ79a1HK6OBftJxMZXed_Lp/s320/IMG_1124.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">checking out beach of Punta del Diablo for first time, muy buena!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
After an hour of playing carelessly on the beach, we decide to test out our biking legs by venturing north of Punta del Diablo to Parque Nacional de Santa Teresa. The journey is a 24km (15mi) round trip. The wind also seems to be at our face the way up. Regardless, we arrive to the parque in just a little over an hour. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Upon arrival to the park, it appears my front tire is punctured, spitting slime out on every rotation. That's 2 flats in 2 days, this could make for a long trip. The air holds in the tire just enough to get us to the beach, just so happens to be one of the most beautifully, deserted beaches I've ever seen. Not a bad place to change a flat tire.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuGxB6OIaZ3l3MbfQIt4fqhtnVS9pVl7j_nIUx_sopSlFTQgHa7spHBEZF8Lvqb4SEkgWrvCeXymq6fzzvt0jXVf8RZz031-xwr1t9jOZjLaLkoUZsnJ2dS3yPDtgJ_bYgiUQyTK878G3I/s1600/IMG_1129.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuGxB6OIaZ3l3MbfQIt4fqhtnVS9pVl7j_nIUx_sopSlFTQgHa7spHBEZF8Lvqb4SEkgWrvCeXymq6fzzvt0jXVf8RZz031-xwr1t9jOZjLaLkoUZsnJ2dS3yPDtgJ_bYgiUQyTK878G3I/s320/IMG_1129.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There is nowhere I'd rather change a flat than here, Playa Grande Parque Nacional Santa Teresa, Uruguay<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
We spend a good 2 hours at the beach enjoying every minute of the solitude drinking a mate and watching the waves crash. The journey back, we decide to take a 'shortcut' based on the recommendation of the guards at the Park entrance. The shortcut leads us through some beautiful areas of inclines and declines. Now we're warming up the leg for the 350km journey that we embark on tomorrow. The sun sets on us and we're riding in the dark, again. We make it back to the house and we all have one thing on our mind... asado! We go to the village supermarket to buy all the meat, veggies and wine. Nico fires up the parrilla (grill or barbecue). As the meat and veggies cook on the grill, we sip wine and watch Willie Whit prep all 6 bikes for the journey. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTVsXdUu4yUryS4DQOH2yMMu90kGKr2GoLYPoOyaU1lyFKV3MqHUGDLIgBsQa4SEp6HsrAHa4LQkH3u9iuxjC62nsk3eo1Iuz9jVNVzxxB3WhFGAJ5sIbsCW7xQe0XieWUrsyrLQBioMRq/s1600/580148_10152963886705556_186400691_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTVsXdUu4yUryS4DQOH2yMMu90kGKr2GoLYPoOyaU1lyFKV3MqHUGDLIgBsQa4SEp6HsrAHa4LQkH3u9iuxjC62nsk3eo1Iuz9jVNVzxxB3WhFGAJ5sIbsCW7xQe0XieWUrsyrLQBioMRq/s320/580148_10152963886705556_186400691_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">bici maintenance </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
After the bikes are prepped, it's time to grub. This may be one of the best asado meals we've had, thank you Nico, there is not better way to prepare our panzas for the journey ahead.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO7-k9jwrXfbc-Yese6jVbimEjmO19jZiNZdqooHDVdEmWYAg2xBoYXSpx8LYrIUuYz4SuXc361dRBj8bKmq2ZtaHGzL8jG27ClHCKyO5JOUs05jyAWiTuiVsvvO_pto4qOygSoOYIHHe6/s1600/935921_10152963886650556_1196074954_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO7-k9jwrXfbc-Yese6jVbimEjmO19jZiNZdqooHDVdEmWYAg2xBoYXSpx8LYrIUuYz4SuXc361dRBj8bKmq2ZtaHGzL8jG27ClHCKyO5JOUs05jyAWiTuiVsvvO_pto4qOygSoOYIHHe6/s320/935921_10152963886650556_1196074954_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">chorizo, lomo, bell peppers on the parrilla, yum!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The asado has the food coma effect, hasta mañana.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
We wake up, it's Monday morning and we're ready to start the journey south west towards Montevideo. The plan is to try and get to Cabo Polonio which is about 60km south. However, we get a late start so we'll see how far we actually make it. Nico surprises us by telling us he's joining us for part of the way. We're all stoked and ready to ride. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWjwcXKggCFDN-30dI0uqDAwKg37y9yUTrnRg7CLa65Qw8wVQS5rvc_EyT8RGkwsYl6ttq2VWfIYaqZthAiJpLCniRCHoo9j900iMnWqsbb2QUR2-kzKPvPePcn1-FO2D9fTYVUYNsFOVZ/s1600/1011942_10152963887365556_570766705_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWjwcXKggCFDN-30dI0uqDAwKg37y9yUTrnRg7CLa65Qw8wVQS5rvc_EyT8RGkwsYl6ttq2VWfIYaqZthAiJpLCniRCHoo9j900iMnWqsbb2QUR2-kzKPvPePcn1-FO2D9fTYVUYNsFOVZ/s320/1011942_10152963887365556_570766705_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the crew fist pumping to a good ride ahead: L to R, Amit, Anish, me, Willi, Brett, Nico, Jason<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />rngerlachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03205236235131275270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963490788747619562.post-75994702905175519762013-05-09T16:22:00.001-07:002013-05-09T16:22:36.779-07:00Adventura- Guay: El principioIt started like anything, as an idea to get out of the city and cover some real ground on two wheels. The coast of Uruguay called our attention through various tales told by amigos, a curiosity to explore more lands via la bici. Originally, we planned to do this trip in April of 2012. It was like an unrealistic dream due to lack of expenses and large workload. We pushed it up a year. We who..? <br />
<br />
Amit Patel: funny, charming, sarcastic buddy from San Francisco, CA. He's been a brother since la universidad. It had been too many years since we've reunited. He's a true wiseguy, literally speaking.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTEe2GiaKbumNFi-s_RqK1T1a3t0zD0if3V9Ex1EzCT1cnG0rq8TpxOayboMGnun_bT0ePPrsl8U1-lIzxi4V1xseUOH9f_jbR5NCJTSYdm7PpdYjjFsGzDTwIxAaHh_p7Efmhx02qVBoq/s1600/936952_10151644796515482_1750379087_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTEe2GiaKbumNFi-s_RqK1T1a3t0zD0if3V9Ex1EzCT1cnG0rq8TpxOayboMGnun_bT0ePPrsl8U1-lIzxi4V1xseUOH9f_jbR5NCJTSYdm7PpdYjjFsGzDTwIxAaHh_p7Efmhx02qVBoq/s200/936952_10151644796515482_1750379087_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amit's model shot on the dunes of Cabo Polonio, Uruguay</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Jason Adams: lively, spontaneous, vibrant Jason Adams from east coast of the US of A, Asia and now currently residing in San Francisco. He loves travel and inspires us to travel more and live more in the moment. Just the perfect dude to have around. <i>''Adventura Guay." JA</i><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWaDwUL5dn0D8HAI9wa5_58t2Zg8_fe9R8uzUWHSaxr33bfSO6DLyGMg5K76UiJBCmXAtuDcTqEEykwT8xnsNqzghrro85HFjGqIjoxL2RBJw3Dv2yca6G_HCDsFx63L-3FhJ3Bz0H_5Qo/s1600/IMG_1101.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWaDwUL5dn0D8HAI9wa5_58t2Zg8_fe9R8uzUWHSaxr33bfSO6DLyGMg5K76UiJBCmXAtuDcTqEEykwT8xnsNqzghrro85HFjGqIjoxL2RBJw3Dv2yca6G_HCDsFx63L-3FhJ3Bz0H_5Qo/s200/IMG_1101.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jason, prepped and ready in Montevideo, Uruguay</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Willi Whit: Also known as BJ, Guille, Will, uncle. The idea man, the reason Biking BA exists. You can spot him riding with no hands down Ave. Santa Fe with a big smile. Someday, this man will fly!<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitG_Lnup7SWh6EgDSVqVP92yVy73sgl5yQsOID_ogc8whJ5_P6N3DWY_b8KVMX5PMDaSbI_NNu3SPZJavWWykmn1kfElfXCfbGtFnEufSD-edRFPBMoAOf0dWDbd6lZQf1lo2dgxGKn_YC/s1600/IMG_1163.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitG_Lnup7SWh6EgDSVqVP92yVy73sgl5yQsOID_ogc8whJ5_P6N3DWY_b8KVMX5PMDaSbI_NNu3SPZJavWWykmn1kfElfXCfbGtFnEufSD-edRFPBMoAOf0dWDbd6lZQf1lo2dgxGKn_YC/s200/IMG_1163.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Willi taking a break outside of Aguas Dulces, Uruguay</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Myself: Aka Binho, Colo, Red. I'm one lucky dude.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTdG6cvrnFWYzF2TPn8V_WsH2k41LvbljmnS5cmdbNETRDR3Qy_0y-aYUPL0q4SErPZCls7aBvXRq1qxUJkBbM-npn0ZOCieRmxUhcsNpOL4O0JBrqv4Hc6lytvSlg_1dl7AHjv3nqU8PE/s1600/GOPR0767.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTdG6cvrnFWYzF2TPn8V_WsH2k41LvbljmnS5cmdbNETRDR3Qy_0y-aYUPL0q4SErPZCls7aBvXRq1qxUJkBbM-npn0ZOCieRmxUhcsNpOL4O0JBrqv4Hc6lytvSlg_1dl7AHjv3nqU8PE/s200/GOPR0767.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Smile upon arrival to Montevideo, Uruguay</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
...So we pushed it to April 2013. One more year of growth for each of us and we can better prepare for this. Amit comes two weeks separated from getting a cast off for a broken wrist. Jason arrives with fresh wounds after a recent crash, training for the trip riding the streets of San Francisco. Speaking of streets of SF, check out our friends who run <a href="http://www.sosfbiketours.com/" target="_blank">Streets of San Francisco Bike Tours</a>.<br />
<br />
There were four of us. But who's going to take care of us? Enter, Brett Rezek, yes it's a girl with a boy's name, get over it. She's amazing and was perfect for this trip. She always has food with her and makes amazing trail mixes. She also resides from Colorado, Durango to be exact. Brett has been with us at<a href="http://www.bikingbuenosaires.com/" target="_blank"> Biking Buenos Aires</a> since November 2011. The longest tenured employee we've had, she has earned this trip with us.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh08s1EavSlz1Ls4DjRov9WpiUtxAQAZoExhaMQRHuC5K0bm1BqDRXZEm-U-wIc7HXOwdducKdgnsNCVNgaO-Uk3S-RdXKdKOtcOnOaCFvMBtNxAgETChFF0woQVcBatgXiEJkNcDoLjN7g/s1600/IMG_1280.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh08s1EavSlz1Ls4DjRov9WpiUtxAQAZoExhaMQRHuC5K0bm1BqDRXZEm-U-wIc7HXOwdducKdgnsNCVNgaO-Uk3S-RdXKdKOtcOnOaCFvMBtNxAgETChFF0woQVcBatgXiEJkNcDoLjN7g/s200/IMG_1280.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brett finding a puppy on the side of the road, outside of La Paloma, Uruguay</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
There were five of us. But wait, someone has to jump on board spontaneously to make this trip exciting right? Enter Anish Shah, friend of Amit and Jason. He so happens to be in Buenos Aires and very intrigued by this journey. He hops the boat from BA to Montevideo with us without even having a bike. The plan was to be in Montevideo one night and take off the next day in the afternoon, leaving Anish 16 hours to find a bike.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiixqJMN-mY0kWjdI7ZRKkDsV4YAcbisdX6RAn1dXrqZCjIO0PJJyxapTUM1XR_LyuTXgKc00Ocyn6UffhKsKzeXvmU_WOCWkS8Kskz4enzstdUofp0RaACyIMKeSK21mqul_NbIB5zm9QC/s1600/IMG_1102.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiixqJMN-mY0kWjdI7ZRKkDsV4YAcbisdX6RAn1dXrqZCjIO0PJJyxapTUM1XR_LyuTXgKc00Ocyn6UffhKsKzeXvmU_WOCWkS8Kskz4enzstdUofp0RaACyIMKeSK21mqul_NbIB5zm9QC/s200/IMG_1102.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anish after scoring his bike and helmet from a guy in our hostel in Montevideo, Uruguay</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Let the adventure begin...rngerlachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03205236235131275270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963490788747619562.post-76223622348337015922013-03-10T10:42:00.002-07:002013-03-10T10:42:43.280-07:00O Samba do Brasil<div style="text-align: center;">
<em>February 6th 2012</em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em>Excerpt from journal of travels in Brasil 2012</em></div>
<em></em><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivgZsBfyGVI7EaN0ObHftS4olPuqLHg7_0vzXHhDzRDhQOMt6do6TU6phNLxWJ0KxNAQuW_-zgOXZBK49WpDQ8bEq3zBqQpJvQmVFd7DW-ezOUJN4SphnIYvqwS63jfeS3kPHRZs4GAE5D/s1600/046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivgZsBfyGVI7EaN0ObHftS4olPuqLHg7_0vzXHhDzRDhQOMt6do6TU6phNLxWJ0KxNAQuW_-zgOXZBK49WpDQ8bEq3zBqQpJvQmVFd7DW-ezOUJN4SphnIYvqwS63jfeS3kPHRZs4GAE5D/s320/046.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Left to right: Danielle, myself, Lívia, Maria enjoying a Saturday Samba </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<em></em><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Three days into my visit here in Sao Paolo and the felicidade (happiness in portugues) is becoming part of my bloodstream. Yesterday, we went to a feijoada and Samba. This is a gathering at a very nice, quaint restaurant in an authentic part of the city. The street was filled with colorful buildings and smiling people enjoying their Saturday afternoon. </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCZ-O95gDYrFOt-KwPKkhcWr-FtGuJb0DtYIWjFHyAHtrojqUyzMxgKy6H3YC4Df4ZXiHl3pNKlAO8l4GinoDYzQ906TrvxgXy6OwaeKcITWR8SR6X3skpaWyeuJlv_T1Spiw8JJPHWdXs/s1600/057.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCZ-O95gDYrFOt-KwPKkhcWr-FtGuJb0DtYIWjFHyAHtrojqUyzMxgKy6H3YC4Df4ZXiHl3pNKlAO8l4GinoDYzQ906TrvxgXy6OwaeKcITWR8SR6X3skpaWyeuJlv_T1Spiw8JJPHWdXs/s320/057.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
A man next door is in the barbershop getting his haircut meanwhile we are preparing to indulge in a typical Saturday Brasilian style lunch. Feijoada is a plate of rice, beans and pork served aside with flour of mandioca. The beer complements the dish to perfection. Fried banana and mandarin are also a nice touch.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHka0sklqVWovr5kb8TO2DgjNK4cxwdDF52t6YdGhpqMPwCgdL6ly5EUKdqjdoPtEFN8u2oloddsKXCDNlLFIm5-OFuwxtm1z-kBMNR5e5I54Dj0oDmrUophKGvfG1eh241omqxTHiA3Cm/s1600/047.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHka0sklqVWovr5kb8TO2DgjNK4cxwdDF52t6YdGhpqMPwCgdL6ly5EUKdqjdoPtEFN8u2oloddsKXCDNlLFIm5-OFuwxtm1z-kBMNR5e5I54Dj0oDmrUophKGvfG1eh241omqxTHiA3Cm/s320/047.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
The tasty food goes down slowly with the cervejinha (beer) and the Samba band is finalizing their set up. Testing their many beautiful instruments, they all pass smiles, laughs and jokes. When the first drum beat hits and the beautiful vocalist of African descent begins to sing, the people light up the room and start dancing Samba. I had no idea how the steps were but my girlfriend took my hand and showed me slowly the steps. By this point the cervejinha has lowered any inhibitions I had to dancing in public a dance I'd never known. The steps come easier with each beer and each drum beat. After several songs, the whole restaurant and it's patrons are on our feet dancing together. The love being shared through this dance is like nothing I've ever seen. With every passing song, the samba eases its way into my heart and I'm in drunk, happy and in love. I so happen to look across the dance floor, aka the restaurant to see one other gringo dancing his life away. We catch eyes and realize that we are the two luckiest gringos on the planet to be experiencing this. It is impossible to be upset, stressed or angry while dancing samba with these fine, Brasilian people. The power of the drum beat and energy around the room encapsulates any fleeting thought of yesterday or tomorrow. There is only this beautiful moment, with these beautiful people sharing this beautiful sound.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGFNouhXckBg2BW6Bw2JRS0tlaXzAI4fj6STQ-I5HIxI4OSKz34wTPuLgQu6Err2p4Cih4rJilrGSObajHFVIQTiPMVoh7mMpSLOmHH4zfxEnZ2ykocEsQcSon9BlOJEsyn1rHzZFv747Q/s1600/065.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGFNouhXckBg2BW6Bw2JRS0tlaXzAI4fj6STQ-I5HIxI4OSKz34wTPuLgQu6Err2p4Cih4rJilrGSObajHFVIQTiPMVoh7mMpSLOmHH4zfxEnZ2ykocEsQcSon9BlOJEsyn1rHzZFv747Q/s320/065.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em>"O Samba é o pae do prazer, o samba é o filho da dor"</em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em>Translated: "Samba is the father of pleasure, samba is the son of pain"</em></div>
rngerlachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03205236235131275270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963490788747619562.post-23605911707186392402012-06-08T17:47:00.001-07:002012-06-08T17:48:05.299-07:00Shhh. Listen to your body<div style="text-align: center;">
Breeeeeeathe in 1, 2, 3</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Exhaaaaale 1, 2</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Heart pumping at a steady rate, the attention draws to my heartbeat and breath. Finding a 3 second inhale and 2 second exhale sets my rhythm. With a constant focus on my technique, my mind only drifts when I no longer am aware of my breathing. Five kilometers into the run I look back to see where my running partner for the day, Karri, has set back to. The Finnish soldier is about forty meters trailing at his own steady pace. At the end of the 8.5km loop, I stretch and wait for Karri to get there. My energy seems rather high on this Friday afternoon. After greeting Karri acting like I'm not even breathing hard, I confidently state my intention to run another loop. He wishes me luck and rides on his blue cruiser out of the Eco Reserve on his merry way. After a quick stretch, I venture back onto the trail at a slow pace. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The pain sets in not even 500 meters into the run. The left knee feels stiff and extremely sore all of the sudden. Now it feels like rusty metal bending in a heavy wind everytime I flex the knee. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
This cannot be happening, not now. Flash back four years ago, the same pain setting into the left knee. Flash back 18 months ago. Yup, I recognize this feeling.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The It band not only hurts on the outside of the knee but inside as well. I quickly walk back and hop on the bike back on my merry way. Perhaps I was getting a little ahead of myself with this whole process. My mind wants to do one thing and my body stands it's ground with a purpose. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Flash back nine years and four months ago at the State Champion wrestling tournament in Denver, CO. My mind is poised for a state title run. My body, ribs in this case, gives me a dose of reality with incessant pain every time I rotate laterally or horizontally. What is one to do? Perhaps I haven't learned a very simple, yet often overlooked, art form. Listening. Not just listening, listening to my very own body. It has powerful messages that can not be disregarded. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Where to go from here...</div>rngerlachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03205236235131275270noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963490788747619562.post-57501994717741507522012-05-16T14:58:00.000-07:002012-05-16T14:58:03.112-07:00Running back to life<a href="http://www.atletismorosario.com.ar/42k/" target="_blank">Maratón Internaciónal de la Bandera en Rosario, Argentina</a> awaits me, my legs, running shoes and heart. That's right, I signed up for a marathon, the full 26.2miles/ 42.9km. <br />
<br />
Am I crazy? It'd be hard to argue that I'm not. I haven't done distance running in two years. A nagging IT band injury stopped my brief long-distance running career. For you non-runners, the IT band is Iliotibial band, the muscle that runs from your hip down the oustide of your leg. The pain is often felt in the hip and the outside of the knee, where I so often felt it. <br />
<br />
Fast forward to 2012 and I'm daring to go from zero to 100 with my running, much like my blog posts. I now have something that is a bit more exciting to write about. Plus, it's low season with bike tours so I have a bit more free time to put pen to paper. Two weeks into my training I feel the IT band pain again, hmmm. Ok, it's time to figure this out. After some research, I've narrowed it down to either A.) I need new running shoes. B.) I need to correct my running technique C.) I'm just not a runner.<br />
<br />
I'm vying for option B at this moment due to not wanting to spend more money on running shoes and I'm not ready to give up running. So I've been working out my IT band muscle with many stretches and strength training. I've also taken up a new form of running called <a href="http://www.chirunning.com/" target="_blank">Chi running</a>. I literally am re-learning how to run. My training sessions have been just as much mental exercise, focusing on every move and how my feet land, as physical. It has become somewhat meditative, all I think about is my breath and every step in stride. It's a great way to forget about daily stress and problems.<br />
<br />
Curbing stress and problems. That is why I like to run. Yes I also bike about 30km a day around the city and play futbol twice a week. Those are both great forms of exercise. However, running is just different. The way I feel after a long run is unlike any other feeling. My mind and emotions are pure, clear and balanced. My body? Exhausted and pumping blood at a rapid rate. If you find a good stride in your run and feel no pain sometimes it's hard to stop, just ask Forrest Gump. I decided to get back into it because a good friend of mine down here is also running in this marathon. He was a J. Robinson wrestling camp attendee as well. Anyone who really knows me well, knows that those 28 days in Minnesota with J. Rob and company were the most challenging in my life. I never thought I'd say it, but I miss those days.<br />
<br />
My parents will question this marathon decision with memories of shin splints and hip problems that I had while running cross country in high school. My form was awful then, I knew nothing of good running technique which slightly makes me wonder if my coach ever noticed or cared. <br />
<br />
Nonetheless, I'm back at it. I'll keep writing as my marathon training continues. June 24th is the marathon date. It takes place in Rosario, 4 hours up the river from Buenos Aires.rngerlachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03205236235131275270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963490788747619562.post-43038278744292154652011-12-30T10:22:00.000-08:002011-12-30T10:31:31.954-08:00Note from my brother<div align="center">It's not very often I receive long messages from family, especially my brother. We've always had a relationship of picking up where we left off instead of keeping in touch extensively. Today, I received an email from my brother about upcoming change in his life that inspired me and made me damn proud to be his lil' bro. Whether your beliefs differ from his or not, you must admire his insight and writing, thus I share with you...<br /><br /><em>Happy holidays! Happy new year... happy birthday Jesus... happy solstice! In all matter of reality, we should have based the calendar new year around the solstice. I demand calendar reform from this Gregorian bullshit. We could even pretend that Jesus was born on the solstice just to appease the Christians.</em></div><em></em><br /><div align="center"><em> I'm looking forward to 2012 with great anticipation. I haven't been this excited and scared and intrigued by coming events in a long time. In fact, I've never felt the way I feel now. I'm living in madness right now. Not in a bad way, just general madness. I think about all the crazy shit I've done in my life and I still can't clear my head of the shockwave set off this fall by a casual spill on my bicycle. The most painful and mind-consuming traumatic injury of my life may be the best thing that ever happened to me. The healing process of the organism is incredible. It's like the awareness of self comes reverberating all around in everything I sense. It didn't happen all at once and it's not just me, but everything around me feels more alive.</em></div><em></em><br /><div align="center"><em> As you all know, I've spent my entire life in cruise control. Lucky me, right? I learned at a young age how to tweak the system in my favor. I never cared for school and I definitely never learned anything, but I always did just enough to get by. I've used that same technique over the last decade to manage financial security and good health. But jobs are like relationships. It's no place to be if you don't want it. I could be the best chairlift mechanic in the industry, if that were what I wanted. If I really cared to own the situation, I wouldn't just work on the equipment. I would engineer every chairlift right down to the nuts and bolts to be more efficient and environmentally compatible. But I don't really want to. Basically, I can perform this sort of work, but I'm simply not a mechanic. It's time to be honest with myself and stoke that inner fire again. I've always been comfortable with life changes. It seems I am at my best in times of transition. It's the idea of job security which frightens me. It's the security which dulls the mind. But life transition offers the chance to sharpen the edges and focus on execution. But where's the passion? What to do? It didn't come to me as an epiphany. All I needed was a few seeds. Once the thoughts were planted, I watered them with research and life began to appear in a far more peculiar fashion. Never has anything so changed my fundamental perception of the world than the combination of a few seeds in the past year. Yeah, so breaking my face was a 'seed', or more directly a wake-up call. </em></div><em></em><br /><div align="center"><em>Who are we to impose our values on the future</em></div><em></em><br /><div align="center"><em>- Another 'seed' came from a speech at the Aspen Ideas Festival this summer. Aubrey de Grey is a prominent gerontologist who believes that aging is completely not necessary. Seriously, check him out on youtube. Essentially, he doesn't see any reason why we should just accept death and aging as a natural process when we have evolved to manipulate our way out of natural processes. He believes we can manipulate ourselves on the cellular and bacterial levels to refresh and re-up our bodies through therapy. What caught my attention wasn't the general subject of immortality, but rather the fact that he admits it may not occur in his life time. But he has dedicated the rest of his life to bringing light upon a subject that people today find not only controversial but demoniacal on many levels. "Who are we to impose our values on future generations." This was the line that got me thinking. This was a seed.</em></div><em></em><br /><div align="center"><em> So I thought to myself, what if people from millennia past foresaw the future and left warnings in place to tell us that our way of life is wrong. Some people may say, 'yeah, you're right let's go back to the old ways.' But I think most people would defend their lives. If the past generations altered things to the point which current time were effectively and fundamentally different, we wouldn't be here. Our families, our cities and all the things we know would be gone. Would you allow past generations to alter our evolution in such a manner? </em></div><em></em><br /><div align="center"><em>I truly believe that nothing but recyclable matter exists after death. All life occurs within the realm of respiring cells in the ever-constant process of decay. A friend of mine once questioned the enduring sadness of this position. She even accused me of being a depressive and hopeless being who should have more faith in the simple joys of life. Sadly enough, she is missing my point. In theory, all life concedes to the perpetual cycle of the next generation. Whether an afterlife exists or not, I have no interest in what lies beyond. What could be more liberating than living for this life, and this life only? Why rest any hope on going to heaven when heaven is here on earth? This is it. Love it, respect it, study it, own the experience. To me, life is religion. God didn't make man in his image. We make god in our image. Again, evolution. We can become masters of our own destinies. We won't be around for it, and we won't always be rememered, but life in some form is immortal. I do believe this. </em></div><em></em><br /><div align="center"><em>Right Now-</em></div><em></em><br /><div align="center"><em>Worship? Why not worship the true creator of all life as we know it. I dig our world's creative relationship with the star in our daylight sky. Creation is due solely to the nearly improbable events of the last four billion years. The chances of this particular experience of life in all it's odd and unusual forms is nearly infinite. The connection is perfect in it's way simply because of the reality that it even exists. That is to say nearly impossible, one can only guess at the sum of trillions of a trillion billion chances at this exact outcome. Earth is a cell in the universal sea of outer space. Just like the first single-cell organisms which appeared in the shallow tides and the volcanic soils of the young earth, we appear in microcosm wading through the cradle of life. Simple prokaryotic cells born of base elements, electrified by ultraviolet radiation, who photosynthesized for over one billion years just to release enough oxygen over the surface of the waters to create an ozone membrane and allow for an oxygen-rich atmosphere. The evolving complexity of organisms over the next two and a half billion years, along with the complexity of atmospheric cycles has given way to a species whose dashing attempts of conquest and desire for understanding had driven all life to the brink of fatal pressures. Our greatest imaginations cannot comprehend the rarity of our current circumstances. There are so many questions and endless mystery to life. There is so much we'll never learn so much we'll never know, but we'll never stop asking the questions. We will never cease to uncover the mysteries. I just want to live like heaven is here on earth. This is it. I want to draw the most accurate connections to natural world. I'm going back to college to study biology. I hate academia, but right now it is going to provide the right framework around my self-education. I need to surround myself with like-minded people for once in my life. People seeking truth in life. So there you have it, back to school next fall. That's all I've been trying to say here. CSU or CU Denver to burn up my GI Bill for a couple years of undergrad core curricula, then on to grad school and an everlasting life of continuous education and research.</em></div><em></em><br /><div align="center"><em>Sorry I had to drag that out so big, just trying to get the idea across.Let's skype soon, Love you bro!</em><br /><br />Love you too hermano, suerte en 2012 :)</div>rngerlachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03205236235131275270noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963490788747619562.post-28833317880122520322011-12-25T08:12:00.000-08:002011-12-25T09:58:37.035-08:00Blissful momentTense, all tense muscles remind me I'm not breathing properly. My shoulders, my neck, my face all tight and caught up in the world of responsibility. Managing a tour business in high season, based on level of service. Keep our service level high, keep our friendly faces smiling, keep our name in the right light. So many thoughts, anxiety level inclines until I remember to inhale. <br /><br />I stretch the legs, set aside twenty minutes. Emails, you leave me alone for a minute. Phone, shut the hell up for just a minute, maybe even twenty. People, give me this moment. Take it easy, just for this moment, shhhhh.<br /><br />Hamstrings stretch, quadriceps stretch, breathe in... breathe out. Gluteus maximus, stretch to the maximus, so tight from the pedaling motion. <em>I'm sure lucky to be complaining in my mind about a job that I absolutely love</em> I think in each stretch.<br /><br />My position transfers to lotus, stillness. Just... breathe!<br /><br />Inhale 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.... hold... exhale 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6<br /><br /><em>Email the accountant, respond to Alejandro, call Ingrid...</em><br /><em></em><br />The thoughts make their way quickly to the moment of stillness. Invited or not, thoughts find their way in the backdoors and sidedoors of the mind, even the doggy doors. My awareness stops them in their place, then lets them pass. <br /><br /><em>Remember to update finances, check bike maintenance log, go buy a few onions for dinner...</em><br /><em></em><br />Through the sidedoor perhaps? My awareness becomes scissors and cuts the tangle of thoughts invading this moment, cut them away... they float away in pieces.<br /><br />Inhale 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.... Hold.... Exhale 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6<br /><br />The muscles begin to relax a bit after several rounds of uninterrupted breathing.<br /><br /><em>Hmm, rice, veggies and chicken or pasta? I'm hungry, what's for dinner?</em><br /><em></em><br />Just breathe, be here, be now.<br /><br /><em>But my stomach is growling, listen to the body right? I need to call my benzinha tonight and email my family.</em><br /><em></em><br />Inhale 1-8... Hold... Exhale 8-1. <br /><br />I feel lighter, with each exhale the muscles loosen and the tension gives way to slack.<br /><br />More thoughts arise, this time, I don't fight them as I usually do. Accept the thought, observe it, embrace it fully. This thought is here for a reason, it snuck it's way through the windows of my mind and I greet each one that comes through with a smile and a hug.<br /><br />Poof... stillness... bliss.<br /><br />Moments of absolutamente nada proceed, no thoughts occur, sneak in, nor ring the mental doorbell. I've embraced them and they're gone.<br /><br />Inhale 1-10... Hold... Exhale 1-10. Light fills my bloodstream, each blood cell is a particle of light. I'm not longer physical matter but rather a field of energy. Energy connecting with other forms of energy, all flowing on different wavelengths, but flowing nonetheless. The bird chirp outside the window, the honking in the distance, the smell of eucalyptus from the candle are all inside of me, the world is inside of me.. why? Because it's in my head, it's my perception. This eucalyptus candle may smell different to you, the honking and bird chirps may come across your ears differently, but it's your perception, in your world. Breathe in, let it go.<br /><br />This moment is bliss, this moment is peace, this moment is meditation. And just like the moments of stress, tension and dis-ease... this too, will pass. <br /><br />Happy Holidays, may they be filled with moments of joy, peace and love.rngerlachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03205236235131275270noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963490788747619562.post-78310926017217776422011-09-28T05:21:00.000-07:002011-09-28T05:25:51.927-07:00Confessions of a 26 year old<div><div style="text-align: center;">Here I sit practically in my own pile of vomit, what have I just ingested? Where am I?....</div><div style="text-align: center;">Quién soy (who am I)? My mind races at a rather calm, curious pace. The ants crawling around in this dark liquid that was just in my tummy make me question if these ants were just in my stomach. What just happened to my life?</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">It's October 1st, 2010, three days after I turned 26...</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I observe my surroundings, the tree above me blows lightly in the wind and the hillsides in front out in the distance show off their greenery. The chant of shamans fade in and out. "Yaaa haaayy ayaaahh," they echo from high and low in this state of continuous observation. No judgement arises, no level of curiosity falls. Suddenly, I am connected to the universe in and around me. Brief moments of simplicity and beauty somehow justify the fact that I'm sprawled on a grassy hill with my insect buddies taking in the scenery across the rolling Colombian countryside. About forty minutes prior, I ingested ayahuasca, a drink made from a vine native to the Ecuadorian/Colombian region of South America. Widely popular among indigenous people of this region, yaje (ya hay), it's local name, is used as more of a spiritual experience to purge the bad energies out of one's body. It literally purges you, causing you to vomit all of the parasites out of your stomach. A friend in our hostel invited us to come along and here we find ourselves, surrounded by Shamans burning sage and incense chanting away.</div><div></div><div style="text-align: center;">I gaze at the beauty around me and begin to reflect on my life as if I'm on my death bed. I first think of family, every single one of my family members and what they mean to me and how they've shaped me. I want them to be here with me, experiencing this. But, I know this is an experience I must keep as my own. I have never felt so close to truth. With my mind at peace, I enter my own little confessional...</div><div><br /></div><div></div><div style="text-align: center;">Twenty six revolutions around the sun and I reflect.</div><div></div><div style="text-align: center;">I've tasted the sweet nectar of a freshly-squeezed maracuya in Bogota, papaya in Cartagena and Acaí in Rio de Janeiro. The smell of a woman's perfume has knocked me upside the head and silly before.</div></div><div style="text-align: center;">My heart has been broken, repaired, broken again, and now in the process of becoming the heart Neil Young was searching for... made of gold. I've broken the hearts of others, I've made others cry only to bring about my own tears. I've made peoples' days while making others sick to their stomach. I've found that it's not worth it trying to have my cake and eat it too, only so many calories of greed can be had in this life before it turns into heartache.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I've lied, stolen, cheated and have felt the consequences of all three.</div><div style="text-align: center;">My sight and hearing have worsened while my intuition has improved. </div><div style="text-align: center;">I've seen some of the most beautiful landmarks this world has to offer, yet I've seen so very little. I've come to realize, the more I see, the less I know. </div><div style="text-align: center;">I've preached to the choir and have practiced what I preach, at times. I'm human, I too have made many mistakes and have been hypocritical.</div><div style="text-align: center;">According to Einstein's definition of insanity (doing the same thing and expecting different results), I've been insane more than several times in my life. I've walked like an Egyptian to Cyndi Lauper and done the walk of life to Dire Straights. My fondest memories are road trips with my family to California listening to Canned Heat and CCR. Memories of eating dinners at Uncle Donn and Jerry's made me feel never too far away from family while at college. Through it all, I've been one lucky dude. Maybe it's the red hair or maybe from some good deeds but throughout the years, I've been very surprised at how lucky I am in this life. I realized it when I was volunteering in 'villas' outside of Buenos Aires, when I was talking to a man with no legs in the streets of Bogota and when I ride my bike past people in wheelchairs. Not everyone starts with the same set of tools in this life but I've seen some do more with less and some less with more. In the end, it's up to us, each and every one of us to shape our own life. I just realize, I've been lucky to have received a good set of tools in my life, not literally speaking. I'm one of the least mechanically inclined people I know. </div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">My family has been the rock that has propelled me into this great, big, scary world of opportunities. I've felt what it's like to be on top of the world, only to then be in the gutter. I've felt like a King at times and a failure other times. I've come to know that feelings are only that, feelings and nothing else. They come and they go. But one thing remains certain, as long as I'm human, they'll always come back... the happy, the sad, the disappointment, the envy, the content. Each and every one of them will come and they'll go.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Through it all, I've come to see that there is only one thing eternal, this moment. This moment, right here and right now is all we really have control of. I've come to see that this is easier said than done. My realizations have also led me to belive I still know very little than what I'll know in the next 26 years, this intrigues me.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I've come to believe all we are is energy and information. We transform energy in different forms and gather information through our own conditioned ways. I've come to believe in technology but adore the ways without technology. Letters, phone calls and personal visits go much further today in a world of texting, emailing, tweeting and facebooking. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Through it all, I realize that the first 26 years of my life has been one hell of a rollercoaster and I have no regrets. Every moment has taught me something and brought me to where I am today. None of this would have been possible without the support of my family and friends. The biggest revelation I've had in my first 26, now 27, years of life is that I am just a human being with as many faults, aspirations and desires as the rest of you. I like to recite Lynard Skynard's words, "I'm a simple kind of man." When I start making things complex in my life, my happiness goes away. To a point I enjoy challenges, they push me to be a better person and expand my vision. I have also come to enjoy the simpler things in life; sitting on a porch with family watching the day pass, eating fruit, taking a bike ride, whistling a favorite tune, listening without interrupting, 'being' rather than always 'doing' and most importantly saying "I love you." </div><div style="text-align: center;">Because in the end, that's all we really need right!?</div><div style="text-align: center;">Today I turn 27, it's been a year since I had that spiritual experience with the Shamans in Colombia. It will be one that was good while it lasted and shaped my search for truth in everything.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Turn the page, to the next chapter in life.</div>rngerlachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03205236235131275270noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963490788747619562.post-89157564979636856482011-09-13T19:01:00.000-07:002011-09-14T09:49:33.523-07:00Coffee & a Cigarette?!<div><div style="text-align: center;">Strolling down the cafeteria-filled streets of Buenos Aires, you're bound to see los Argentinos sipping cafe and smoking a pucho, Argentine slang for cigarette. This country has one of the higher rates of cigarette consumption in South America. The people of Buenos Aires, porteños, also make a habit of visiting their psychiatrist, is there a correlation? Maybe, maybe not however my experiences being a resident here over the last several years confirms one thing, these people stress a lot. You see it in their faces on the public transportation and walking down the streets. It could stem from any number of things, but one thing is for certain, their stress leaves for brief moments when sipping their cappucino and smoking their cigarillo. </div><div><br /></div><div> </div><div style="text-align: center;">I was walking down Avenida Santa Fe the other day and I realized that everyone sitting in front of the Parisian-styled cafes had a cigarette and a cafe. Two very active stimulants turning their stressed frowns upside down. I for a brief moment wondered, what's so great about this?</div><div style="text-align: center;">My addiction is more on the healthy side, yerba mate and riding my bicycle. However, I wanted to be Porteño for brief few moments and see what this is all about. I had an extra 8 pesos in my pocket to spare for a cafe con leche (coffee with a splash of milk), so I ordered at the next cafeteria I walked past. With an extra 30 minutes to spare in my daily tasks, I indulged into the more toxic stimulants to feel a little bit more Argentine. Or maybe I was looking for the ultimate teeth-staining experience. Either way, I was missing one thing... a pucho. It didn't take me long asking the old man at the table next to me, "me regalás un pucho por favor, señor?" He gladly allowed me into his world of stimulants. With a flick of the lighter, I was one shrink short of being fully porteño. </div><div><br /></div><div> </div><div style="text-align: center;">To be honest it wasn't as bad as I expected, I could see how these people can become so dependent on these fixes. I can just see my parents back home now saying "noooooooo, don't you dare pick up drinking coffee.... nor puchos!" </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Not to worry, after exactly 23 minutes of people-watching, pucho in hand and sipping cafe, I felt a little buzz but was looking for water to rinse out the disgusting after taste. Well, that was fun being porteño on Avenida Santa Fe for a brief moment. It was a good moment but one that confirmed that I have the right addictions. Time to go back to being a gringo on a bike, </div></div>rngerlachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03205236235131275270noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963490788747619562.post-19624395063438914422011-09-03T20:13:00.000-07:002011-09-04T15:31:35.756-07:00Happy Birthday Padre<div>One of my greatest inspirations for succeeding in life, my padre Kenneth Karl Gerlach. He's raised me since I could barely walk. Legally he is my step father. Far from the legalities, he's been the father that I've needed every step of the way. He's played a huge role in making me the man I am today. Although I may not be wealthy in profits... yet. I am wealthy in experience, support and love. Thank you Padre. I wish you the happiest year of your life. Feliz Cumpleaños, I love you!</div>rngerlachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03205236235131275270noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963490788747619562.post-2185789297283225542011-04-08T17:26:00.000-07:002011-04-08T18:17:49.811-07:00The Foreigner with a SmileHe's no Argentine, it's apparent in his facial structure, hair color, wardrobe and funky gringo accent. The looks he attracts are felt from all angles on the streets, in the buses and in the subway systems. We're all people watching, other people watching me... rings Jack Johnson in the earphones. They all take at least two looks up and down, not on purpose. It's more out of genuine curiosity. Look how this stranger dresses, it's not like us, where is he from? The body language is even different. The stranger feels a bit uncomfortable the looks drape his every move. He takes a deep breath, swallows his shaken confidence and throws a nonverbal bomb. It's one that comes unexpectedly and immediately disarms those around him. All of the sudden, the tension the foreigner feels is diffused with this unspoken message. Everything returns to normal and the people feel more accepting to this non-Argentine. <div><br /></div><div>All of this with a simple smile. Some of these people appear as if their facial tissues and muscles have forgotten how to form a smile. All it takes is one dimple to remind them. Why not let the foreigner initiate the good energy... all with a smile :)</div>rngerlachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03205236235131275270noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963490788747619562.post-22204923458841842382011-03-13T11:23:00.000-07:002011-03-13T11:58:01.592-07:00Mother Nature WinsI look at the clock on my cell phone, it reads 15:00. Yup, it's tour time. Here I stand at Plaza Dorrego with the bikes ready to go and nobody shows. <div><br /></div><div>15:01, the clouds release and the showers begin to rain down on the bikes and myself. Everyone takes cover in their stores. Yet, I, well I must get all of the bikes back in their respective storage space... 3 blocks away in a garage. I start by locking the bikes I'm leaving and taking 2 bikes at a time down the cobblestone road of Avenida Defensa. People in the cafes look at me confused. ''What is this gringo doing running with 2 bikes down the street in a rainstorm?" I look back and muster a smile. Two bikes locked safely in the garage, now time to run back to Plaza Dorrego for the rest. Again, 2 at a time. </div><div><br /></div><div>"Oye, there goes that same gringo running with 2 more bikes in this torrential downpour." What is that <i>boludo</i> thinking?</div><div><br /></div><div>Rewind several weeks: Biking BA has decided to store bikes in a garage several blocks from a highly touristy plaza. Lo bueno: It's very affordable to store the bikes in a garage near a closer location to our South Tours. Lo malo: We must arrive at least an hour in advance to transport the bikes from the garage to the meeting point, 2 at a time. It's not the most efficient way of preparing for a tour, but '<i>es lo que hay</i>.' </div><div><br /></div><div>So there I am, 20 minutes into the storm, drenched and defeated. Nobody showed for the tour, rainstorm duh. I had heard it was going to rain but I went to set up for the tour anyways, hoping the weather man was wrong. Dedicated or stupid? You tell me.</div><div><br /></div><div>I then hop on my bike and make the ride back to Palermo area, 45 minutes away in the rain. The water drips out of the foam handlebars as I cruise through the slowing storm at a leisurely pace. The taste of defeat, oh so bittersweet. </div><div><br /></div><div>Then I ride past a young man with no legs in a wheel chair, wheeling himself down a puddle-filled sidewalk with a smile on his face. A health dose of perspective sinks into my bones. It could always be worse. What am I bitching about? Sometimes, a little perspective is all we really need. </div><div><br /></div><div>I love Buenos Aires for that reason, whenever something may seem upsetting or negative, turn the corner and you'll find a good dose of perspective. It lies in the faces of each <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cartonero">cartonero</a>. </div><div><br /></div><div>The rest of the ride home, I carry a smile and know that tomorrow the sun will shine and another tour awaits. For now, I feel warm in the cold rain knowing I have a place to sleep tonight and am surrounded by good friends and family all around. More tours will come and the next time, maybe I'll believe the weather man.</div><div><br /></div><div>Spanish phrase learning:</div><div><i>boludo- A common term in Argentina used between friends. Literally means someone who's head is filled with air, like a ball. Can mean fool or friend, depends on how it's said.</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>es lo que hay- Also very common here. Literally translates to 'it's all there is.' Used often in terms for settling for what there is.</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div>rngerlachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03205236235131275270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963490788747619562.post-12120200589503305852011-02-04T21:33:00.001-08:002011-02-04T21:58:29.872-08:00Vale La PenaIt's 2:37am local time Buenos Aires, Argentina. The freshly brewed yerba mate injects caffeine to keep my brain cranking away at the Biking BA business plan. This has been a work in progress for over 4 months, has changed over 30 times. The end goal? To get investment into our company. <div><br /></div><div>The process, many nights like this analyzing the risks of investing in this simple business. Remember my talks about keeping things simple? I do my best to practice what I preach. This has been a challenging project. And that's why I love it. I take a second to step back and look at my life....</div><div><br /></div><div>Here I sit, a 26 year old kid with some ambition to create something much larger than myself. It's a Friday night, no wait, 2:38am Saturday morning. The friends are out partying and I'm sitting here looking at potential risk analysis charts, SWOT analyses and many other theoretical business practices that we can make practical in our business. Is it worth it (vale la pena)? Who knows, who cares. This is where I chose to be at this point of my life and I must say, no complaints. Putting in this extra work, even if it doesn't lead to results and goals desired, is part of growing. It's about the journey, not the destination. The last 100 days or so that I've been in Buenos Aires trying to start a business has been the most educational time of my life. Everyday, I'm amazed at what I don't know. I feel that I know less every day. </div><div><br /></div><div>How cool is that? Everyday, class is back in session. The name of this course... life! It's tough kid, life isn't for wimps I've heard. What is being learned by trying to start a business in Argentina? </div><div><br /></div><div>Patience, first and foremost. This has to be one of the most inefficient countries on the globe. The exchange rate is 4 pesos to the 1dollar, it also takes 4 times as long to do what takes 1 time in the states--> patience!</div><div><br /></div><div>Communication. From calling manufacturers to emailing vendors in Spanish, this has been one of the most challenging... yet rewarding.</div><div><br /></div><div>Creativity. With limited resources financially speaking, we are forced to make the most of what we have. For example with the limited amount of bikes in stock, we've put out the idea of bike sponsorships. People or companies sponsor a bike and get their name on the bike. We will also put ads on our rental bikes and charge a low monthly advertising fee for the mobile ad space. This will help with some extra cashflow in the meantime--> un poco creativity.</div><div>By the way, a special thanks to those who have already sponsored a bike!</div><div><br /></div><div>These are just a few lessons one may learn in pursuing a passionate project. </div><div><br /></div><div>In our case, even if our company doesn't end up where we envisioned it, we will certainly be better than before because the journey has far more significance than the destination in this classroom called life. Happy learning!</div>rngerlachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03205236235131275270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963490788747619562.post-16636738616013050942011-01-25T14:12:00.000-08:002011-01-25T15:06:30.178-08:00Life is Short.. Live it Your Way.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwmM8NjuAvX_guPTjqJmmwAEnsPRZ8nWcFM3LevmnPPf-PlblK-uPeIvbmK0VQpxaIIrjApN8_3UBpp_59ZBrjJ86wCCkh1yXDzo-8lV8XdJS9xN3dEZWy9RXCwm5ycsbouMMhFk3TkWWE/s1600/The-Holstee-Manifesto.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwmM8NjuAvX_guPTjqJmmwAEnsPRZ8nWcFM3LevmnPPf-PlblK-uPeIvbmK0VQpxaIIrjApN8_3UBpp_59ZBrjJ86wCCkh1yXDzo-8lV8XdJS9xN3dEZWy9RXCwm5ycsbouMMhFk3TkWWE/s320/The-Holstee-Manifesto.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566250125742599154" border="0" /></a> The image you see above is the brilliant manifesto by our friends at <a href="http://shop.holstee.com/pages/about">Holstee clothing</a>. This might as well be my personal manifesto that I never took the time to think of, if that makes sense. Everything in this manifesto is how I strive to live my life, so thanks for the reminder Holstee friends. If you're like most every other human with a pulse and a healthy sense of curiosity, you've probably felt lost in your life before. Then you find yourself, then lose yourself again. What is this cycle all about?<br /><br />I don't know! But it's a great question that I've vowed not to ask myself anymore.<br /><br />I don't have all of the answers for why things happen in my own life and I feel ok saying that you shouldn't have all of the answers to the mysteries in your life. Let's remember that life truly is simple, it was never meant to be complicated... but we human beings complicate life and blame it on... life itself. Let's not confuse simplicity and ease. Life is not always easy, nor should it be. How would we grow and evolve as human beings without challenges and the 'life is so damn hard' moments? The difficult moments are usually our most telling times as we learn more about ourselves in the never ending pursuit of 'finding ourselves.' More often than not, our actions and emotions are products of our minds. The mind is a tricky bastard, don't let it control you, dictate you or demoralize you. Remember, life is short! Why live your whole life trapped in the complexities created by the mind?<br /><br />Yesterday, an Argentine lady jumped off of a 23-story building and came crashing down on top of a taxi, without the driver in it. The building she chose to end her life off of is called the Panamericano. It is known for its roof-top bar with a great view over Avenida 9 de Julio in Buenos Aires, one of the best views in the city. She must have been caught up in her mind and lost all hope and then decided to make life shorter than it already is. Yet, fortunately for her family, she survived. Yes, she survived the fall, probably thanks to the taxi cab saving her life. Who knew taxis provided such life-saving services? Ok, all jokes aside, this is a miracle. Anyone hopping from higher than 10 stories is usually applying for their one way ticket to their respective after-life destinations. This Argentine lady is going to wake up in her hospital bed with 2 broken hips, internal bleeding but is expected to survive. Hopefully, she'll reward the angels looking over her.. and the taxi that was below her by living her life her way this time.<br /><br />What if you came face to face with death? Picture death as a person smiling at you and daring to grab your hand, kiss you, and pull you to the other side. In reality, isn't that what death is? Death is our best friend, reminding us to not take life for granted. The beauty of our friend death is that it is staring us in the face each moment of every day, whether we know it or not. Any one of these moments could be our last... Now, is it so hard to live your life?<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Author note: This post is not intended to inject fear in any of my readers and I apologize in advance if it has. It is intended as a friendly reminder to take a deep breath, smile, and live <span style="font-weight: bold;">YOUR</span> life!</span>rngerlachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03205236235131275270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963490788747619562.post-38671190038887427152010-12-29T16:40:00.000-08:002010-12-30T05:32:37.757-08:00Turn the Calendar, Turn the Page, Turn Yourself<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPpeCk3XTqUhNgyyuDI76FqmaOeSodaEFaCVCY-ALe4wkh63Fu52Wp1D2bsIdsB7VYnzY5En2dy_Yb0soN1eotR84oArZgCtoNFOM2DilSBoM4xm-9nrzSNTBRcTMzSncezHaqMniobpjz/s1600/turningpages.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 254px; height: 156px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPpeCk3XTqUhNgyyuDI76FqmaOeSodaEFaCVCY-ALe4wkh63Fu52Wp1D2bsIdsB7VYnzY5En2dy_Yb0soN1eotR84oArZgCtoNFOM2DilSBoM4xm-9nrzSNTBRcTMzSncezHaqMniobpjz/s320/turningpages.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556458982946402098" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><i>Turning pages from 2010 to 2011</i></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">Looking back on my <a href="http://rgerlachpuravida.blogspot.com/2010_01_01_archive.html">2010 Resolution and Goals</a> with my feet kicked up after a long day on bicycle, it's time to reflect people. How was your 2010? What's in store for 2011? New Year's is my second favorite holiday behind Thanksgiving. The new year represents the turning of a chapter in our lives dictated by the calendar, no better time to reflect. Thanksgiving is a holiday that should be actualized on a daily basis but the fact that we make a point to touch our gratitude pulse on one day is special.</div></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >In my personal reflection, I realize that I only fully achieved 40% of the resolutions and goals I set out for. Upon further analysis of the goals that I did not achieve or those that are in progress (60%), all of them have lead to something different. Different is ok, although it may not be what I set out for, something good came in an alternative form. For example, instead of the the pursuit of Spanish literature, I've followed my language passion into learning another language... Portuguese. Brazilian beauty intrigued me into learning its language. That's just one example but in my refl</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >ection it's interesting seeing how much life has changed in the last 365 days. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >The year started in the bitter cold of the rocky mountains passing days at Monarch Ski Area then hitting the Golden coast for a road trip with my 2 hermanos (one from anotha motha). Then came a summer time of mountain biking and working 6-7 days a week to save money for a return to South America, one of the successful resolutions! Then came the migration south in September. Colombia was my home for 6 weeks and the perfect transition to my life here today, in Buenos Aires. One whole revolution around the sun and I find myself back in the southern hemisphere, this is the place for me now. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; ">So now it's time for resolutions and goals in 2011, let's turn another page. This year will be one to remember, I can feel it!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >1. Grow Biking BA into top 5 tour companies in Buenos Aires with 2 locations and a fleet of 100 bicycles.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >2. Learn Portuguese- At least the basics of the language to where I can hold a 10 minute conversation with my fellow Brazilian friends in their language.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >3. Learn <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Capoeira">Capoeira</a>- This Brazilian art is like a mixture of martial arts and break dancing requiring incredible core strength and flexibility. It has a great history behind it too. Read about it by clicking the link above. Also, to see a good video of capoeira, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Capoeira">check out this video</a>. Every time I see people performing capoeira live, it intrigues me to the point of wanting to jump in. Only if I knew how...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >4. Write more- I'm aware that I lose motivation for writing at times but I love it when I'm actually putting the pen to the paper. So I must find what will I do to make it a habit and be continuously motivated to write while balancing the rest of my activities. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >5. Visit 5 places I've never seen- This includes the Salta/Jujuy region of Northern Argentina and others on the list are Uruguay and Bolivia. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >That's it! Yes, this year I'm only going with 5 resolutions. I laid out 10 last year and realized that I need to keep it simple for 2011. It's time to simplify and focus on what I enjoy doing on a daily basis, being active. Biking, 5 vs. 5 games of futbol, learning capoeira and samba all will bring me enough joy for one year. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><b>Living 2011 as if world really will end in 2012</b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><b><br /></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >The Mayan calendar predicted that the world as we know it will no longer be in 2012. I'm not 100% convinced of this, however I will use it as an opportunity to propose that we all live 2011 as if the Mayan Calendar is correct. Within legal and moral judgement of course. But what's wrong with living each day of this year as its the last May 5th, June 17th, September 28th, etc. that you'll live. We all might show a little more humility, love and passion in our daily life. So take it or leave it, to those who wish to approach 2011 this way, I can't wait to see how your life will be this time next year. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >I sincerely hope 2010 dealt you as many ups as it did downs. To living yet another year through our ups and downs with grace, love, health and felicidad. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div>rngerlachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03205236235131275270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963490788747619562.post-12145464873165332332010-11-30T18:00:00.000-08:002010-12-05T09:20:54.723-08:00What is La Pura Vida?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdevMm_-aRll7U6IFGo9Tt9Qc_KT5J59hRl13F8_VpzDQV7-BzyprO8WS4fSyo5rcsbKCIR5nAqdEZsaLTyD5QnaVGXRZL1X9U0dbFTnpcIePZA7wfWfMJw6IlmJym7gcucJAKDY6_AG5t/s1600/what_puravida-233x300.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 233px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdevMm_-aRll7U6IFGo9Tt9Qc_KT5J59hRl13F8_VpzDQV7-BzyprO8WS4fSyo5rcsbKCIR5nAqdEZsaLTyD5QnaVGXRZL1X9U0dbFTnpcIePZA7wfWfMJw6IlmJym7gcucJAKDY6_AG5t/s320/what_puravida-233x300.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545531924593885458" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>image from change.org</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">A slow steady realization settled in and I thought to myself, "Hmm self, it has be a while since I've written a blog on La Pura Vida blog. The self always responds in silence as a mirror of reality. With no excuses to lean on, I search for more meaning of why blogs are even beneficial. They help us upload and share information with others in our own pursuit of education, reasoning, happiness or whatever it may be. La Pura Vida, perhaps. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Pondering back to why I ever started La Pura Vida blog in the first place, I recall I was sitting at a dining table in my first week of Buenos Aires, 3 years ago to the day, using what little Spanish I had known at the time to name my new blog, translated 'the pure life'. The pure life wasn't so much about living free of sins but about exploring a pure life yet to be fully understood. La pura vida, like much in life, is very subjective and is open to interpretation. The intention of this blog was to show my personal life and pursuit of living la pura vida. It consitutes of living healthy, physically, spiritually, mentally and emotionally. They're all interdependent. By living healthy in all of these facets, I mean living without toxins-negativity and trying to be something that I'm not. La Pura Vida is living a well-balanced, simple life. We all like to make life complex sometimes and we must remind ourselves to simplify everything and remember what's really important to our well-being. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Personally, these are the elements that constitute my own pura vida- healthy foods (fruits, veggies, yerba mate, etc), yoga, cardio exercise, meditation, writing, reading, learning new languages and cleaning. Cleaning? Yes, ever since I left home at 18, I've been a product of my ''neatness counts'' Dad and can't stand being in a dirty place. Without clutter, dirty dishes, etc. it's much easier to focus on the other elements. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Some of the readers on this blog have asked me where I get my views or philosophy on life from. Here is a list of my favorite blogs or websites: </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">www.thefourhourworkweek.com/blog</div><div style="text-align: left;">www.zenhabits.net</div><div style="text-align: left;">www.realage.com</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And that's it, those are a few of my favorite online sources that inspire my pursuit of the pura vida.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">My favorite authors are:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Deepak Chopra</div><div style="text-align: left;">Eckhart Tolle</div><div style="text-align: left;">Tim Ferriss</div><div style="text-align: left;">Edward Abbey</div><div style="text-align: left;">Del Carnegie</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Many of my views and inspiration for travels and writing this blog come from these sources. However, my greatest source for new inspiration is from you, anyone who reads this blog. What is your own personal pursuit of la pura vida?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div><br /></div>rngerlachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03205236235131275270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963490788747619562.post-24061943785187001182010-10-18T13:58:00.000-07:002010-10-18T17:39:19.926-07:00BIKING BUENOS AIRES<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ZWbCiO0ZD9TSrecF42oyG6suLU9OKOt6YopmvvN1iHSgxQvEKkYDEdNx2lQlcsLW6SFXGqCz_AOBm10e2HQz48OrGRGJiZxRtVDrR4hXyDcsR5D0gxEfUTIsRJOVOcNQOHV6VP2Kv5hY/s1600/untitled.bmp"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 201px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 198px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529550034446165682" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ZWbCiO0ZD9TSrecF42oyG6suLU9OKOt6YopmvvN1iHSgxQvEKkYDEdNx2lQlcsLW6SFXGqCz_AOBm10e2HQz48OrGRGJiZxRtVDrR4hXyDcsR5D0gxEfUTIsRJOVOcNQOHV6VP2Kv5hY/s320/untitled.bmp" /></a><br /><div>The main reason I wanted to move back to South America, Buenos Aires specifically, was to help my good buddy Chilly Willy Whittle get his bike tour company in high gear. One of my favorite things to do when visiting a foreign city is explore it via bicycle. With each pedal, you get to see the many different lives on the streets. One corner you may see kids kicking around a futbol, the next corner you're greeted by drummers performing for a few pesos. Three blocks later, the smell of carne or empanadas may activate the appetite. It's interesting, fun and absolutely liberating exploring foreign lands by the pedal.<br /><br />This is an opportunity to follow a passion and put to test our creativity, innovation and determination. It's truly exciting. If you or anyone you know has plans in the near to far future of visiting Buenos Aires, please let them experience the city the most fulfilling way...<br /><a href="http://www.bikingbuenosaires.com/">http://www.bikingbuenosaires.com/</a>.<br /><br />To see our latest blog on our latest biking experiences in Bogota, <a href="http://bikingbuenosaires.wordpress.com/">click here</a>!<br /><br />We leave Bogota tomorrow for Buenos Aires with our vision in mind and on paper in the form of a business plan. As much as we've learned just putting together the business plan, we've only hit the tip the iceberg. Let the lessons, challenges and rewards begin.. See you in Buenos Aires!</div>rngerlachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03205236235131275270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963490788747619562.post-52445465539867249042010-10-08T14:59:00.000-07:002010-10-18T13:58:51.354-07:00Caribbean Waters Part II/ Santa Marta<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwbgvZR__EuAxzQFEFUbJS_CLJI4IS4GpPS3oI4EcEYL31m8aQH75a5t7JTUN-M8sn1vJBRoLyje6HNOKyGonjt_j7RWlk-zisZVeCU0xal9K9ReZap_xGmuLZq3m4ad3wYhoArhTyOxLz/s1600/126.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 257px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 222px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525820582698931138" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwbgvZR__EuAxzQFEFUbJS_CLJI4IS4GpPS3oI4EcEYL31m8aQH75a5t7JTUN-M8sn1vJBRoLyje6HNOKyGonjt_j7RWlk-zisZVeCU0xal9K9ReZap_xGmuLZq3m4ad3wYhoArhTyOxLz/s320/126.JPG" /></a> <em>Santa Marta, Colombia</em> <div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div>Where has the time gone? I sit here on our balcony looking out to the crystal Caribbean blue reflect the sun to my eyes. Seven days have passed here in this beach community that has been a major time trap. We don't return to Bogota for another three days. Ten days in Santa Marta is like one long dream that you never want to end. Why does it have to end?? "This too shall pass," the Buddha once said, such a painful reminder in some cases yet a healthy reminder in others.</div><div><br /></div><div><div>Gilles, the Dutch owner of our apartment, told us he moved here seven years ago and has never left. Now he sits in his office two blocks from the beach and hires a bunch of Juans to bring the tourists to him so he can rent out his apartments. We had a great time negotiating with Gilles. All of our negotiations up to this point have been taking place in Español, which has been very frustrating to Jason, the wheel n deal kind of business man who thrives on getting the best deal for his friends every time. He's the best guy to travel with, always making things exciting. Anyways, once the opportunity to negotiate in English presented itself with our Dutch friend Gilles, Jason jumped on it and brought Gilles down in price $20/usd per night. The result, we stayed the final 8 nights of our stay in Santa Marta in a roomy flat that can fit 12 people. For the six of us, we each spent $10/night and had plenty of space and a nice hammock on our balcony, full kitchen, dining room, 2 bathrooms, laundry... todo! Oh have I mentioned the advantages of travelling the Caribbean coast in low season? See previous post <a href="http://rgerlachpuravida.blogspot.com/2010/09/caribbean-waters-part-i.html">here</a>.<br /></div><br /><div>So the last seven days have been that dream one doesn't want to end. My ears have been plugged since I left the island in Cartagena. I never knew swimmers ear could be such a pain in the ass. I am now being labeled as the grandpa of the trip. "Robin! Listen to me.." they say. "What? What did you say? I can't hear you," I reply like a frustrated old man. All remedies have been tried. Over the counter medicines, shaking the ear and jumping, and even the ol' plug the nose and blow trick. None have been a successful remedy, so for now I accept my temporary deafness and tune into my other senses. My eyes and taste buds have been the most delighted by this beautiful beach community. My skin has even felt the bathwater of the sea here for hours on end. This place has been amazing and has provided some of the best sunsets one could ask for...</div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 180px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 216px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525807823681402530" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1PmYbJSjJgoE6kcWak77qUDcomY2KkQN3wmrMzdWwA1v5to_RePwJK0n2GeWX3baIOASVWzLoxY4KXXnLHuPPcC7DaBi5VkNlM0NKcx3bLvcrYW6cMCrmbT1fusfKAHfKse-AfPugIFEy/s320/211.JPG" /><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 247px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 196px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525802953268976706" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi34qvw-MVPsca7doSILiQgwhvmR6iibJfQwftdxXYUoxJRlQozY0UYzbrqFqviyS5nTklLCU6jIWH2Obl89-ym5UBWimzFn9Ht_0S-hnpQnruxuHQcbr6G7YQBnEoNnyV7W6wvSrbUxQWR/s320/143.JPG" /></div></div><p></p><br /><p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 272px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 229px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525806794564991986" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMI3YkrcRO-brk4qoFOc_HuJyySwd5HbqE0_rinTIuS9R7LlBI0gR0GMtj9e9UwhyhCZuHDUA8m5DaSy3TS_R6AMZNUrawbehFf9LF5em2a3jADlofcOkCe65UxX9yMPZpW_iMActeMj9l/s320/147.JPG" /></p><p></p><br /><p>This place called Santa Marta has also shown us things we don't expect to see, like babies being bathed in public.....</p><br /><p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 274px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 244px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525809903824856274" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQVDQwL9oYLzKZ39N2UO65cvmhlXG9wzGK3y9itMToBK3bOd_BDg2n8EdxhgRy9OxySG4POOwSyvIrYTf6qGfdHtJU2xe0atrTHpKqr_jAAbr8nYA21BmJkKADVVt6szYrhGhBqr_uJJ64/s320/130.JPG" /> </p><br /><p>...or more people on the beach at night than during the day as a regularity. </p><p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 251px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 207px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525811734838204034" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZUn_rW2lU2bOk7XjXQHCzNWaSufQilDtqrGxzT5YcpiJcSTxtUVWmb8zQSUWd0oy-asojlm6kTjSeRhyphenhyphen8Erpn_3EJ6xDaMrRV_cgsGzHRlwhKh1FgR0wU67BoYcMWeMAPjTeLrLv3VurQ/s320/155.JPG" /> </p><p>The locals also wouldn't expect to see one gringo pushing off another for a backflip</p><p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 256px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 219px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525812454878993378" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFpWzrMeAv7MTyf0YJOfse4EMV1PnGT9vDmIUIIyXIkHekr87jFG7WKFyahtxYUwtvInA_Ez5EBo6AWkXwz0pQjoe1T5SWPUE8ESU3EbSsyFVBDpLekWUtMM9WaqTmu7EWNOupqW-QYICX/s320/209.JPG" /> </p><em>BJ's patented backflip w/ a little help from Jason</em><br /><br /><br /><p>This is a place where I was even lucky enough to capture lightning crash at night marking the beginning of just another daily/nightly warm shower...</p><p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 247px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 231px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525814127827878594" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEfX3j-FkptjpKCjI1eOWkmJzFnYhyXjUHMd-EZWxvOO6GcgRrFv39chOutsV7URcTwZSo1RH6uyO4cJyNDJoqaHOsxJaBWtEyDtGO2NrHZr0pYwSzb3EFFobGRpQ-bkfJxzj3KHZvUAoG/s320/124.JPG" /><br />This is a place where the Sierra Nevada Mountains loom over the coast. The eastern edge of the city starts the ascent into the lush green mountains. The roads are no car's best friend yet the people are friendly enough to gringos to make them want to stay in this paradise. Our time here in Santa Marta was not just consumed by loafing on the beaches, only 80% of it was. Give us a break, we did take day trips to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tayrona_National_Natural_Park">Parque Tayrona</a> and ancient <a href="http://poorbuthappy.com/colombia/travel/place/minca/">Minca waterfalls</a>. Yet, laziness did get the best of us here in Santa Marta. </p><p>A side note: It's known as the honeymoon location of Colombia and it lived up to its reputation. We so happened to be here during the Colombian Valentine's Day. In one day, I counted forty six different couples taking their long walks on the beach, que lindo! </p><p>However, people really must not see too many gringos in this area since they often approached us as if we were celebrities as did this beautiful Colombian nena... </p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 263px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 257px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525818084898032626" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF1iOSTYFN6XbhvdvCvYui8hBgIYp6FyekfsOtcWol5oepP0_7fXCkCRVv_d9IeOWqGrfqOQH5C0fYsP3b222EnzLXeqvf9j9MHTZdbJ40oKDOdaPoUO7Hpl5aF1JPTwqtqhouneYusapW/s320/135.JPG" /><br />With every step in this bath water, with every yummy bite of the Caribbean fish & rice meals, with every damn stinking lazy moment in this hammock of the balcony, with every beautiful Colombian woman walking by, with every jaw-dropping sunset and with every breath of Caribbean coastal air, I am most grateful to experience this paradise... Santa Marta, you're the dream I never want to wake up to...<br /><p></p><p></p><div></div><div></div><div></div></div><br /></div>rngerlachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03205236235131275270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963490788747619562.post-19638406305924775902010-09-15T21:38:00.000-07:002010-10-04T10:25:08.378-07:00Caribbean Waters Part I<div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Seventy minutes of flight and the warm, humid air coats our Gringo skin. Those who were battling allergies in Bogota are now cured quickly by the Caribbean climate. It feels as if we´re in a complete different country. The Spanish here is mucho más rapido and the temperature gives us warm greetings. The only similarity between the coast and Bogotá is that it rains like clockwork every afternoon. Its simply a choice between a cold shower in the high city of Bogotá or a warm shower on the coast. For now, we´ll switch it up and spend some time in the warm showers. Break out the flip flops, swimming suits, sunscreen, insect repellent and the shades. We're livin' this one Caribbean style...</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span> </div><div align="center"><em></em><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 265px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 188px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524226222015197586" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMJORhEIX9hHoReEcM475j79xQN0VROyyzRocCFEFElNqQZPGdkDk4KlWODzmqZT1lkd5KQvz-BVqQrFcTPCVKLCSR0Mt0W_62c7EAr5GlA8uMqQIWFyrA3tlUwZXFIgk7J-X3W-TqIdIb/s320/001.JPG" /><em>Good morning Cartagena from our apt. balcony</em></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Upon arrival to our rented flat in the Boca Grande peninsula of Cartagena, we are approached by 'Caribbean Salesmen.' "Oye chicos, coca, departamento, muy barrato, muy barrato.." The gringos have arrived and everyone there knew it. The advantage of travelling the coast during low season is the affordability of everything. We managed to score a really nice apartment/flat to comfortably accomodate all six of us with a balcony view, blender, fully equipped kitchen among other amenities for a price of $12/person/night! The disadvantage of being the only gringos in sight during this low season is that we are target for every salesmen... and there are tons of them. For now let's just call them Juan, for some reason most salesmen were named Juan or Carlos. </span></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">Our first full day, we decide to take advantage of our location, head 3 blocks north and walk the beach. The Juan's (all of them) were delighted to see us step foot on the sand. "Chicos, cerveza cervezas, snorkeling, gaseosas (sodas), muy barratos chicos.." Aaand here we go, every 30 feet we walk, we're approached by an average of 2.8 Juan's, they're aggressive and we're highly entertained. We finally find one guy who approaches us speaking broken English and his name is Johnny, he wins best salesman of the day this day for getting us to rent out his cabana and order a few cervezas from him. No need to go anywhere if you want to buy any food or beer or massages. They bring it all to you. Juan's salesman sister, Juana we'll call her loves to approach us offering masajes. They actually don't offer, they tell you, ''promocion, masaje, masaje, es una promocion," and start rubbing your shoulders or legs. Some Juanas are so aggressive, you have to show your mean gringo side and walk away or yell at them. It's an interesting game here, are we celebrities that are just so damn irresistible or are we just wearing $ on our skin in low season? We'd all like to think the former but the latter is the reality. Day 2, we take a boat ride to Playa Blanca on an island about 25 minutes from Cartagena... </span><br /><br /></div><p align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">The Island:</span></strong></p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 203px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 244px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524230904747930306" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9LlHuLjRFy71SGa1H-M3ejJLsZyCE9J2edkyR_p_VsVqgU8lPP50PJi7hTmauxENFKAngLhuWbDAOMqnM_qippN7amHWboUZ-pppVPDZua9P7Jy1fsGoi93uXKrm8gDFFVZIpIhBdbPrk/s320/067.JPG" /> <p align="center"><em>Playa Blanca</em></p><p align="center"><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">Nearly twenty five minutes of a choppy boat ride out from Cartagena, we (only us 6) are dropped off at Playa Blanca on an island. What was strange about this? They told us to get off and everyone else on the boat kept on going. We were rather confused but went with it. As we unload the boat, 30-40 Juans and Juanas come out of the trees of the beach and start approaching us. "All hail, the gringos are here." We were all upset that none of us took a video of this scene, it was like a movie. Masajes, beers, food, ceramics, fish, ceviche... todo barrato chicos. Barrato for those who don't know español means cheap. They say everything is cheap, however we like to negotiate. Whatever price they'd quote us on, we'd respond with "pfff, no, no gracias, too much money," even if it was dirt cheap. We became master negotiators. </span><br /></p><p align="center"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 279px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 210px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524232060801962674" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqxh2SyDaLv6y8Qa19iuZqx5Oml85bwQyGN8qpZgmaTimZ2pdUkt3fYTilDHwofawYgTKkn93BPvtAt4wYbD8Axm66Fo1mLlROF1SgoiK8pv7deqH8SDzIPmQ-WjpvqEIIzQsRtSiaGqow/s320/074.JPG" /> </p><p align="center"><em>Jason, Mike, BJ and Dora in negotiations with Juan Uno, Dos y Tres</em></p><p align="center"><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">We had successfully denied every massage offer until Jason decided he was going to give in and buy himself a massage. This opened up the can of Juanas, once Jason lied face down on the sand and committed himself to a massage, ten other Juanas came over and attacked Reed and I, we literally would have had to run away to get away from the attack of the masajes. Dora, BJ and Mike were swimming in the bathwater called the Caribbean meanwhile before we could say "No gracias Juanas," Reed, Jason and I were all lied face down receiving the best masajes ever. No happy ending included! But for the price of $15 USD, I had four Juanas giving me a massage for thirty minutes. Twenty minutes in, I was considering how I could live on this island forever, Juana paradise. After we were in a nice relaxed state, our yummy fish lunch was awaiting us at the next cabana over. </span></p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 236px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 216px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524238143018150210" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq_Qn8dUPfn2VQ16Ldc86o_3SnFtQHjzHabP6juz_aKytaYAddGvUsSUo8YRcF5yHIcLmlnGC2h3RSlZus0I7GXfggTph7xfTUlU-Dzmw-ETda5IUU3fAPD2j6umfJYCc02fkupWlRzrO7/s320/078.JPG" /> <p align="center"> <em>Jason opening up the can of Juanas</em></p><br /><div align="center"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 247px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 232px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524234749260394866" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgKjUkrFRKumuOdUejJPs9ipH5EmJ8NHXLyL2NNZhxNr0Q1kIB04J4TKAT6JKykvdtBV7kQF2q533GWxVNc6gR984Wlmzwd0GOb6aRADD3wJFC_LdJYM2rMoG9kVnDJPxcVhL47LtXCF7R/s320/083.JPG" /> <p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><em>Best fish lunch I've ever tasted</em><br /><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">The rest of the day was a breeze, for some reason all of the Juanas stopped bothering us and disappeared, perhaps their daily income from us gringos had been successfully earned, congrats Juana you won in the end. Regardless, we felt victorious agains Juans, maybe because they didn't offer masajes. The todo barrato that they offered just didn't seem as appealing. Three days in Cartagena and we were ready to move up the coast to Santa Marta where prices are even more affordable and the Juan/Juana mix isn't nearly as aggressive. Three hours on a bus up the coast to Santa Marta and round 2 of Caribbean Waters begins...</span></p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 265px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 210px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524236589371923890" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVsY2zCyA3-MejlrKNlvZ5009fokHJf_9sNhe1aRi6sXaAdsopBK1uobhpJUA7nKMHMptJxnBQl256IGUHdf77dP0t_7fwcFpvU37Lrpi448bHunrnwmmZUicnaXX91FM_LKygFKr2HJOw/s320/034.JPG" /> <em>Sunset from our balcony in Cartagena</em><br /><br /><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></p></span><br /><br /><br /><p><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span></span></div>rngerlachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03205236235131275270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963490788747619562.post-30672324885240516502010-09-13T09:58:00.000-07:002010-09-18T19:07:01.295-07:00Simple Lessons in Bogota<div style="text-align: center;"><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" ><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMMiq2PpPzCOu2p7323jh4Q-BBBlAgabAlIwzlWsaCTXqL8w4g66ldSg0K4vvFZaEfhbJKxJxTqT0PKdZj4hdrMnZo2-KEtBWXPA6Ee9-ml2i9s66ZONOSVvS8crcG9q6DSyOMmpuJdkT9/s1600/IMG_0134.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 262px; height: 192px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMMiq2PpPzCOu2p7323jh4Q-BBBlAgabAlIwzlWsaCTXqL8w4g66ldSg0K4vvFZaEfhbJKxJxTqT0PKdZj4hdrMnZo2-KEtBWXPA6Ee9-ml2i9s66ZONOSVvS8crcG9q6DSyOMmpuJdkT9/s320/IMG_0134.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518434252946227858" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:85%;">View of Bogota from top of Monserrate Mountain<br /></span></span></span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></span></div><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" ></span><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >The lungs draw shorter amounts of air in every breath. Half way up the mountain of Monserrate, which peaks over Bogota at nearly 11,000ft high to the east of the city, our legs weaken with every step. </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >To our side is Hector (Dora's padre) who has been made a weekly Sunday routine of this climb. He stands about 5'5 and is 73 years young. Hector's stride is pushing the pace and making the mid-20's Gringos look rather weak in our ascent to the top of Monseratte</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >. </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >Bogota itself is nestled in a valley at 8,500 feet. We were drawing for deeper breaths just on our walk to the bottom of the mountain. </span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">As we near the top, beads of sweat slide down the cheek with every step in the high Colombian air with the sound of Church bells in the distance. Sunday morning church music greets us as we arrive to the top of Monseratte. The rising sun feels much warmer at the top as we can now see much more to the east at approximately 7:15am. Gasping for air and soaking up the moment with my companions, I'm amazed to see Hector calmly smiling at all of us. Is this guy for real?</span></span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" ><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzbQqR2KgtSiB51Z9tXX4CpDPVjjPY_zxqwtlggxFarB5lWpQWADUK-hqCwCW0QEz5bnNa2qE15atLRrpLvdtJxBnAIHxAmaKy5_3qnsDAQYPZNISHCh2YkP-qiAOJ9z7fzgQf2OuDlHrg/s1600/IMG_0130.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 286px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzbQqR2KgtSiB51Z9tXX4CpDPVjjPY_zxqwtlggxFarB5lWpQWADUK-hqCwCW0QEz5bnNa2qE15atLRrpLvdtJxBnAIHxAmaKy5_3qnsDAQYPZNISHCh2YkP-qiAOJ9z7fzgQf2OuDlHrg/s320/IMG_0130.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518431718107941698" border="0" /></a></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Hector (not tired) & I (tired)</span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">At 73, he just gave us lesson number #1 in this blog po</span></span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">st: Age is only a number. Hector gracefully ascended this mountain with a 'cruise-control' pace and showed us young guns that some get better with age. </span></span></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">We begin to follow his lead as he shows us a place to do some abdominal workouts on rock seats. The church music complemented by the morning bird's song is just better than 'Eye of the Tiger' at this time. We explore the top of Monseratte for a good hour or so before we make the quick descent down to Bogota. Hector's amazing factor goes up on our charts as quickly as he leads us down the mountain. He begins running down with us, bouncing from step to step with plenty of spring and pep. I catch up with him as we wait for the others. "Are you really 73 years old Hector?" I ask him in Spanish. He laughs and responds that he is with a big smile on his face. He then proceeds to explain how his body has yet to deteriorate at this age, living a very active lifestyle. But at 73? really? Well, Hector just became another mentor as he gladly tells me of how great he feels. He's never even taken a pill, all natural medicines for colds and the flu, leaving fruit and vegetable shakes as the remedy of choice. Gracias Hector for making us feel your age but at the same time showing us age is only a number. </span></span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" ><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvI3UlTz-GTbgeruldLcMIXu5qUZj2IBOthzkYzb-7HEW2BXa8m8pHzjNfT56VeOtCNnGRb_gEfGT5kRoVRM9dpEa14XkxPjZ0INHoDb-2xh6fdnvF7qpVhpL9EmKk3eDNGKK4YkjOXa4W/s1600/IMG_0142.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 329px; height: 242px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvI3UlTz-GTbgeruldLcMIXu5qUZj2IBOthzkYzb-7HEW2BXa8m8pHzjNfT56VeOtCNnGRb_gEfGT5kRoVRM9dpEa14XkxPjZ0INHoDb-2xh6fdnvF7qpVhpL9EmKk3eDNGKK4YkjOXa4W/s320/IMG_0142.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518432843609917810" border="0" /></a></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">The crew on the top of Monserrate with Sunday morning church in background</span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">On to lesson #2... Driving in Bogota Colombia! </span></span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">BJ has been our Chauffeur through the streets of Bogota until the question hit me somewhat unexpectedly, "Robin you wanna drive this time?" Hmm, driving in Bogota, Colombia. I feel pretty comfortable driving manual cars and after watching BJ maneuver his way through these streets, I feel hestitant, yet so tempted. "Sure, lets do this, " I say. Two blocks in, I feel the difference in the pace of traffic and obstructions. The rules of the road here are simple... No rules. Who needs lanes? Who cares for pedestrians? Nadie, just step on the gas and keep up with traffic. One must maintain aggressive on these roads or you're causing an accident. Fortunately, BJ is co-captain and giving me tips as far as how to most efficiently navigate through these streets. Several times we come within inches of being side swiped or side swiping another vehicle. The urban jungle of Bogota was my first lesson in driving internationally. If Los Angeles traffic isn't enough fun for you, come to South America for some excitement behind the wheel!</span></span></span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Lesson #3: The US has more influence than I even imagined...</span></span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">After 30 minutes of receiving my international drivers lesson, Dora, BJ and I end up at her parents' house (Hector y Nelly). We are greeted by passion fruit licuados (shakes). The taste of the fresh pulp is simply perfect as we begin to pick Hector's brain some more. Dora had told me that he is fascinated with our country, the US of America. So I open the can of worms and ask where this fascination comes from. The history lesson begins. From Thomas Jefferson to Abraham Lincoln to Theodore Roosevelt, Hector gives me the background on each of them and what made them so great as leaders and as people in general. Jefferson's brilliance, Lincoln's resilience and Roosevelt's work ethic. The world would not be what it was today without Benjamin Franklin, the Wright Brothers and Martin Luther King Jr.'s innovative and revolutionary vision. After 45 minutes, I again look at Hector in amazement and ask myself who is this guru? It just goes to show that you need not be citizen of a country to know its history inside and out, one day Hector may make his way to the country adores so much to see what the American Dream is all about. What really is the American dream all about anyways? It might just be based in the principles and hard work of the aforementioned people, those who have not only changed one country but also one world. </span></span></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">The rest of the day was consumed by more love from Aunt Tita as she decided to treat us to an after-dinner drink of 20 year old Colombian Brandy. She had been waiting for a special occasion for... well... 20 years I suppose. We felt very fortunate and almost undeserving of such a nice gesture. I've never been a fan of Brandy, but 20 year old Colombian Brandy from the hands of one of the nicest ladies one could know. Perfecto... Salud! Now off to the coast, we start in Cartagena....</span></span></span><br /></div><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" ><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw8EFNnoqLdfuQH-m8QDr5XInX1myfw85B0gFShtvpaPuIK2rA6hH3FvjwlPcFd3CwBWJyDvvf2wyGKYVCRjVYnL89WRW7M_mVM1m8ZrCLxv5vPaBQTX41B4Dmhh0dXMZd17Uah-f_ey01/s1600/IMG_0176.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 235px; height: 174px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw8EFNnoqLdfuQH-m8QDr5XInX1myfw85B0gFShtvpaPuIK2rA6hH3FvjwlPcFd3CwBWJyDvvf2wyGKYVCRjVYnL89WRW7M_mVM1m8ZrCLxv5vPaBQTX41B4Dmhh0dXMZd17Uah-f_ey01/s320/IMG_0176.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518436286265162114" border="0" /></a></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Dora y Auntie Tita pouring the Brandy, Salud!</span></span><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><br /><br /></div></div>rngerlachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03205236235131275270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963490788747619562.post-67112780712282484622010-09-11T13:44:00.000-07:002010-09-12T16:42:09.635-07:00Colo Arrives in COLOMBIA<div align="center">My eyes open slowly as my ears feel the pressure of the descending airplane. It's been nearly 30 hours without decent sleep, mainly resting on floors in airports (Denver, JFK, Orlando) and cat naps on the plane. The lack of rest no longer matters anymore as the captain announces en español our descent into Bogota. My restless body fills with excitement suddendly as I begin to feel giddy like a kid on Christmas morning. I ask the nice family next to me (from Bogota) about their favorite kinds of food. Without much thought, they respond with ajiaco (soup), sancocho and yucca. All sound amazing from their descriptions.<br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">Bienvenidos a Colombia Colo! The people here in South America call me Colo (colorado) because of my red hair, not to be confused with my home state of Colorado, though ironic to them. The long line through customs quickly reminds me of the inefficiency in South America compared to that of the Estados Unidos. Though, I'm simply happy to just be back. I can't put into words what it is about this continent that fills me with so much joy. </div><div align="center"><br />Our group for these 3 weeks of travel through Colombia is somewhat dynamic and quite comical to the locals. Dora, from Bogota, is our tour guide and girlfriend of my good amigo BJ (college roommate). We also have Mike Cando (good buddy and my compañero on my first venture to Buenos Aires) coming from Argentina. Jason (also friend from college) is meeting me at the airport so I can be a translater and get us to Dora's Aunt's house safely via taxi. The last 2 of our group are William Reed and myself from Colorado. BJ (William), Reed (William), Jason, Mike, myself and Dora. When you see us its two tall Willy's (one 6'4 another 6'6), Mikey (Philipino), Jason from Hollywood, myself (red-head) and our gracious tour guide Dora. You just have to see us walking down the streets of Bogota to appreciate the comedy of it all. Fortunately I spot Jason in the customs line right away and we pick up our luggage. The taxi driver, Raul, brings us to Dora's Tia's house in 30 minutes. Upon arrival, we are greeted by the rest of our crew, glasses of vino and a yummy dinner of chicken, potatoes and rice. After a good hour of chatting, laughing and catching up we all slowly make our way to our respective bedrooms. The house contains 8 bedrooms, perfect for hosting us gringos!<br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 222px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515775549881021794" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi8d9YLbnK74YM-ZnFzMJpgxqbHOJIEYE1svGCudmPSu-fR6jyWjlUvDa6Gt5FI74S2pMixj9sn8Jvmo9R_CtO7-EIw2rbqvjTYlIWib_BoTJuQi7F-Z7JgMUlUWuWqVOfk-9q-jwCtlaA/s320/059.JPG" /> <p align="center"><em>Excited for breakfast prepared by Tita and Dora, all smiles!</em><br /><br />I awake the next day to the calls of breakfast (desayuno). "Tita (Dora's Aunt) has breakfast prepared for us," BJ exlaims happily. The perfect way to awake our first day in Bogota. Eggs and cheese on a tortilla with Colombian Cafe. Sounds simple, tastes delicious!</p><p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 263px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 231px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515777220231336258" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYMUY6YNLCnztGEPiUVgnC2JUm7lspisYtNo9oFs_DfXeBsXRE5oL648Sf1XjoA5Sno1_ad4-aNAnMvB2xlWixKtXsmWegAIegM7X4cVIWSc6UHbBlMYHe_Wu0alQmzdd7dXHOouMgJGaw/s320/066.JPG" /> </p><p align="center"><em>The group from left: Tita, Dora, BJ, Jason, Reed, myself enjoying breakfast</em></p><p align="center">We then venture to a huge market to buy food for our stay. Now this is no ordinary mercado. Tita called it the best/cheapest place to buy food in Bogota. BJ is our chaffeur through the city of Bogota, quite an interesting experience. We came within 8-12 inches of hitting other cars or people numerous times. We arrive at the plaza and quickly realize that we are the circus show of this shopping exerience. This is no Safeway or Alberton's. They bring the pigs in and slaughter them at this market. Fresh meat is an understatement here. Around every corner we walk people gather in groups to analyze us like we're either rock stars. Reed, 6'6 attracts people from all over the market. We are being analyzed like we're not human, this is a bit uncomfortable but we all laugh it off. After two hours in the market we return for a great lunch (yucca, potatoes and carne). </p><p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 253px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 208px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515781582496141298" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNCzTIOLE-0vxVji6O0t1eRRqKinVTZm5a6F0NmFnewQbrUNwvCCpFQY603pt3EVj0-zEYu-w3IAjRlSYGNE5Q2FGvHpqEKriuds63ebGH1lA_d8_QsBlq71mojEEoG4FXOyAkIFJuA6Cx/s320/073.JPG" /> </p><p align="center"><em>carne at the plaza, appetizing?</em></p><p></p><p align="center"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 262px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 233px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515783978750711602" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiLNxFZoOVGgtakN1eNyJNjhgCyzfuN5x86N2AZwCFyh711s4HlSRjCBVNK750qOWQrB7YIPz5MsUB93Q4yqnb-3HZEaoDAmGCpUPAWX8WgGUijiLCwL3rW2jF7YzLNNY1TQUMGZSkb2Pb/s320/080.JPG" /> <em>Fruit for days at the plaza</em><br /><br />Over lunch we truly realize the significance of being in Bogota as Americans. Ten to twenty years ago, this city was in constant turmoil. People could barely walk the streets without being targeted by the drug cartels with guns or bombs. She shares stories that are still fresh in her mind, you can see it in her eyes and hear it in her words. We all quickly realize how much the city has cleaned up. The most recent president, Uribe, helped Colombia turn its 180 and become a country that us gringos can now enjoy. "Gracias a Dios y gracias a Uribe," she continually says intermittenly in the stories.<br /><br /></p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 233px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 217px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515786872848112610" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz23zMdOIFS0rJMpLsSIe17Y1W7PtKRk4e9BvCgAvvEviAvYX-6V20F6AMwA9qWs71gADIiXIhg2NcTNPAVfwOYju9koNGnZbVaVt1DWpy1YRKCUc0wzwlbP730aCDGaDhmyL0nVQYqaFc/s320/094.JPG" /> <p align="center"><em>A candycane-like church 2 blocks from our place</em><br /><br /></p><div align="center">Our newfound appreciation of being in Colombia safely, so far.... (keep your fingers crossed) leads us through the night where we find ourselves at a local bar drinking with Dora's amigas and cousins. We danced away the night with very affordable beverages and learning the local salsa dances. This is unreal, we keep saying to each other. Such a special experience thus far and so much more to come. Gracias a Dios y gracias a Uribe that we're here.<br /></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 239px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 211px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515789615380178146" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg653fFY9S03MMyZlXvel5jB1GQeL8oEAkIbeZP5SYWiolciFz7pNpi8qwF3Zujr3b_Sjj-p-WupKHA7kFSjW3CK_TLLZ6eZTM_lIi2PN-KzTeoCyl_TUXthHxSlgdsMZlNUXKeFXAn_yR/s320/060.JPG" /> <p align="center"><em>Our living area at Tita's casa, very relaxing</em><br /></p><div align="center">I now am being summoned to the patio's barbecue to help out with tonight's Colombian-style asado (bbq). If we're not exploring the city or learning salsa dances, we're gathering and enjoying meals together, such a beautiful way of life and I only hope you can vicariously experience this all with us through these words. Now, lets enjoy another meal together, can you smell the carne marinated with peppers and onions? I can, now let's eat! Until next time, Bon appetit Señoras y Señores!</div>rngerlachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03205236235131275270noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963490788747619562.post-72674298513706116732010-09-01T14:00:00.000-07:002010-09-01T14:09:21.597-07:00September Never Gone..Happy 1st of the month. September has arrived signifying my favorite time of year. For those going to school, its a time to step up your level of knowledge, you better know more by now kids! For sports fans, professional football is underway and the baseball season is winding its way towards October when all of the MLB magic happens. Basketball and hockey are on deck and ready to take over the airwaves as well. For those living near Aspen trees, you're about to witness some beautiful colors on the leaves. For the rest of you, just admit it.. September is a great month. <br /><br />Yes I am biased, my date of birth lands at the end of this month (28th) reminding me how young I am every year. This September will be the best yet in my calculated foresight. <br /><br />In seven days, my good buddy William Reed and I board a flight to migrate with the birds south. Colombia will be our place of exploration for a few weeks until September is gone then we'll continue to my 2nd home, Argentina!!! This is a time of preparation for round deux in the Southern hemisphere. The 1st round was a great learning experience and has me feeling very relaxed for this next adventure. My Spanish is polished, mas o menos and my packing is more suitable and practical this time. I no longer own a vehicle, whew! No more car payments, check! No car insurance payments, check! Substantial money in the checking account, check! No, I'm not rich by any means but I do feel more prepared to budget travel with all of the connections developed from round uno. I've parred down on many of my possessions here and its quite liberating. A great source to help my psychologically accustom myself to fewer possessions is one of my favorite blogs, www.zenhabits.net. Look forward to my next post on packing for travels in another country. Until then, enjoy your first day of September :)rngerlachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03205236235131275270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963490788747619562.post-73171436007107332272010-08-13T10:36:00.000-07:002010-08-13T10:51:51.227-07:00Happy Friday the 13th and Happy 823 years!Tis Friday the 13th, no big deal right? Well, I've never fully understood the mysticism of these days. Perhaps, the reason people question their every move on these days can be attributed to all of the Jason horror films. We are a society intricately intertwined with Hollywood, right? <br /><br />The real reason I'm writing this post today is because I had something even more awesome brought to my attention today. This month of August 2010, there are 5 Sundays, 5 mondays and 5 Tuesdays. This only happens once every 823 years! I mean, I am reminded of this every 823 years and you'd think I'd remember by now but no, this one snuck up on me. All jokes aside, hopefully this is a cool fact of the day for you. <br /><br />Last night, I sat on my deck and watched the meteor showers. It blew me away, it was two times better than 4th of July fireworks. Why? It's natural. If you've ever watched meteor showers you might feel the same way. Anyways, all of this together was enough to spark another blog post, maybe I'll write a better blog on the next Friday the 13th or better yet.... 823 years from now!rngerlachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03205236235131275270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963490788747619562.post-39313158649140492632010-07-13T21:39:00.001-07:002010-07-13T22:29:44.990-07:00Once Upon a Camping Time<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1cTKzLGpd8qvYbNhqm6tMPYRkW2wCy4KlNQm3-WQwarX9tK8Nr9gM-YnuM23Zt-2VprdE_6wcSbz95XFbFCbZxTHuc9nbqmFel-Ko9mK3k3xYXh4-1C8keJkDXPMV1ZU0s7If_gKgufkV/s1600/099.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1cTKzLGpd8qvYbNhqm6tMPYRkW2wCy4KlNQm3-WQwarX9tK8Nr9gM-YnuM23Zt-2VprdE_6wcSbz95XFbFCbZxTHuc9nbqmFel-Ko9mK3k3xYXh4-1C8keJkDXPMV1ZU0s7If_gKgufkV/s320/099.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493625139718716850" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJfeNIgidMP0pKvBY-oRBNdUcFRkwobUQzDD7dN5vyzXchxF_CbpMDPe9nqOsZwrQXvsAQASiixYTp9ViBYYce6iCRmtDtnduNikxXYHiWHKfCW8ONmuOz69jCYIO7-eqIcLSiuvu5KIlg/s1600/154.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJfeNIgidMP0pKvBY-oRBNdUcFRkwobUQzDD7dN5vyzXchxF_CbpMDPe9nqOsZwrQXvsAQASiixYTp9ViBYYce6iCRmtDtnduNikxXYHiWHKfCW8ONmuOz69jCYIO7-eqIcLSiuvu5KIlg/s400/154.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493617483234778882" /></a><br /><br /><br />The crickets serenade us as the sun sets more quickly and lets the fire be the final source of light. A belly full of hot dogs and s'mores and the smell of campfire lining the nostrils and every pore, now this is camping folks!<br /><br />One of the many beauties of living a summer in colorful Colorado is the ease and accessibility of escaping civilization. One moment, I'm watching the final minutes of a World Cup championship game and celebrating a Spanish victory with a Sangria.. or two.. maybe three. Well let's just say my presumptions had matched those of Paul the Octopus, I had this 6th sense that Spain would win, so I began 'celebrating' with Sangria in the pregame. There I sat wondering what it'd be like to be in Madrid celebrating a victory as I sipped this, my fifth actually, Sangria. <br /><br />Approx 37 minutes later..<br /><br />Here we are in Reed's truck taking on the 4 wheel drive experience on Boss Lake Road just a half mile before our camping destination. One mission in mind, get away from any worries by passing the evening with good friends under the stars over a campfire. Wow, those Sangrias sure kicked my butt and made me appreciate being a passenger on this journey. The fresh air wifts through the the trees and the Aspen leaves are alive on this day. As we arrive to our friend's cabin, camping mentality sets in. All of the sudden I crave hot dogs, potato salad and s'mores to soak up this fruity wine in my belly. The cabin is perfect for camping; no electricity, no running water, a real rustic feel and an old fire place. Just down the hill from the cabin was the fire place and another thirty feet away was a horseshoe pit. Another fifty steps and you are greeted by a beautiful creek to drown the sounds all around.<br /> <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIWB2ZAwi2Ly4QXL7Ub-dl4I60YvQepAlfb0K_D5gYnw2rmjLEP0ng5Z1yb-ZATwRcII765iEWNsbRUBH2e4pcbesdrS7zVeJGf_b3i9jz5iU2g5jss9oOXNja16O_l4U5SW2rEgV7Jqt-/s1600/135.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIWB2ZAwi2Ly4QXL7Ub-dl4I60YvQepAlfb0K_D5gYnw2rmjLEP0ng5Z1yb-ZATwRcII765iEWNsbRUBH2e4pcbesdrS7zVeJGf_b3i9jz5iU2g5jss9oOXNja16O_l4U5SW2rEgV7Jqt-/s320/135.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493624353496839298" /></a><br /><br />What makes this experience so great is that nobody can get ahold of you from outside of your campsite, almost a primative feeling in this technologically connected world. I ponder what can be much better than camping in the mountains, then the mosquitos begin to bite. "Ouch! Somebody get me the bug spray quick!" Now we all smell of camping perfume, bug spray and campfire. Yummy, makes me want another s'more. As we all gaze at the stars and spot certain constellations and shooting stars. The song "It's times like these" by the Foo Fighters starts running through my head to complement the crickets' music. "... It's times like these, you learn to live again..." cricket, cricket.. and over again. <br /><br />Sleepiness begins to set in, not sure if its all of the World Cup beverages or the peaceful setting as the fire slowly dissipates. Perhaps, the combination of the two. Ahhh... sleeping in the outdoors.<br /><br />"Guys, there's a bear outside, somebody wake up and come out there with me.. all I have is a flashlight... crap!" our buddy Reed says emphatically as he lobbies for the rest of us to awake. What would camping be without the prospect of fighting off a bear? Unfortunately for big 6'7" Reed, he had to go pee solo with the thought of a bear awaiting him... nope, no bear. So we think at least. As the sun rises the next day, we all tell our account of Reed's bear cries. Cooking breakfast over another campfire, the birds' song has replaced that of the crickets'. Oh, the smell of campfire and bug spray has grown on me and the stream down the hill calls me again for more quality time... "It's times like these.."rngerlachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03205236235131275270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963490788747619562.post-25394814680194571492010-07-10T09:15:00.000-07:002010-07-10T09:27:01.556-07:00Daily GratitudeI awoke another day to the birds chirping, the sun shining and the air so fresh from an overnight rain storm. Wow, it sure feels like paradise and I know Colorado in the summer months is as beautiful as any other place on this globe. I can't help but feel my gratitude pouring out with each morning yawn. A good friend once told me the best favor we can do for ourselves is focus our energy on what we're thankful for. "That which we think about and thank about, we bring about," my friend exclaims when my energy has apparently shifted towards unnecessary worries.<br /><br />So with that in mind, today, I am grateful for:<br /><br />The sun shining<br />The rolling clouds<br />Afternoon rain showers<br />Friends & Family who bring out the best in me<br />Having multiple jobs<br />Having goals and aspirations<br />The money in my wallet (even if not that much :))<br />The roof over my head<br />The food in my kitchen<br />The books that line my bedroom<br />The bed I sleep on<br />The Honda Civic that gives me problems but ultimately serves its purpose<br />Music, music and more good music<br />Spanish language<br />The mountain view I have every breakfast<br />and today I'm most grateful for having today to be alive!<br /><br />Hopefully you'll take a few minutes every morning to consider what you're thankful for, try it... it might just be your new best habit.rngerlachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03205236235131275270noreply@blogger.com0