What are you doing in Bali?

Ganesha is ready for rain at The Yoga Barn, Ubud

I don´t know. What AM I doing in Bali?

I was hemming and hawwing over the lodge placement in South Africa for days. I couldn´t sleep and felt more stressed about it than I had felt about anything in a year. I avoid stress like it´s my job, so I sent a curt but polite email to the lodge explaining that I would not be joining them after all and hopped on the next flight to Hong Kong. Then to Bali. As you do.

So I am writing from Bali now. Spent a week near Seminyak basically flying around on the back of various scooters and working on getting rid of my safari guide tan. 4 days in Ubud attempting to center myself at The Yoga Barn. It was not the life-changing experience from Eat Pray Love as portrayed by Julia Roberts. I was expecting enlightenment and Javier Bardem, but instead it was more mild boredom with Cheech and Chong.

So in another few weeks I will fly on to Santiago Chile to make my fortune. Or not, as the case may be. At least hoping to ease the hemorrhaging of cash out of my bank account and keep the accounts ticking over so I can initiate phase 2: Central America.

Awkward Tracker seat Dismount

Not my most flattering photo, but one of the few I have of myself in the bush

Greetings from Johannesburg – Continent 5!

What do I say? I have been “off the grid” for quite some time. In fact, I spent most of the last 6 months living in the South African bush training to be a safari guide. I don´t know why either. It seemed like a great idea at the time of registration, even though it did cut into my South American extravaganza. And increasingly less of a great idea as the course progressed. Don´t get me wrong, I feel fortunate to have been in a position where I could hang around looking at trees and animals for a few months, but my personality does not mesh with the demands of a safari guide´s lifestyle. Namely, long hours, low pay, and an unflattering wardrobe. No thanks.

Who knows, maybe I just resented cutting my previous holiday short to go on another type of holiday where I had to get up at 4:30 every morning. I like animals as much as the next person, but 4:30am is pushing it. And carrying a rifle around is annoying and detracts from the experience. I much prefer to go hiking in areas where there are no dangerous animals and you can easily get lost in your own thoughts.

But I digress. What I wanted to write about was the new plan. The Grand Scheme. The next phase. I don´t know what it is, but it involves a month working as a guide (just for kicks), then a quick jaunt back to Hong Kong to see friends, then high-tailing it back to Chile to see about a job. Any job. Or maybe no job. I have no idea. Working is overrated, but necessary. At least occasionally. We´ll see how this goes…

Oh right… I was writing a blog

So I guess I’ve been remiss in writing any updates. This is mostly due to the fact that my iPad was stolen (along with EVERYTHING ELSE I OWNED) my second day in Buenos Aires. Both backpacks were taken from my locker in Ritz Hostel. So there’s that. I spent the next few weeks attempting to re-clothe myself. Did you know bras in Argentina only come in S, M, and L? This is a MAJOR problem. Even the women in the shops agreed with me. How has this not been addressed?? Business opportunity number one.

Also, the ridiculous Argentine government has set the Peso/dollar exchange rate at 5:1, which is insane. The black market runs around 8:1, but because I only had my ATM card and credit card, I had to buy everything at 5:1, which means every time I bought anything, my blood boiled. The ATMs will also not allow you to take out more than 2000 pesos at a time, and they charge you 30 pesos every time you use an ATM. What a racket! Let’s move on, I can feel my vessels constricting.

Obviously I was pretty angry about the start of my trip and I had a nice 10 days to hang out until my new US passport would be ready (USD135 down the drain). Note to US Embassy in Buenos Aires: how about you invest in a little photo machine instead of asking citizens to leave the premises to find the man with the white van in the park who will take your photo under a tree while seated on a plastic stool. I’m fairly certain I was told to stay away from men with white vans in the park who want to take your photo. But there I was, alone in Buenos Aires, seeking one out. His handiwork below, clearly cut freehand.

So that’s me for the next 10 years.

Anyway, a lot has happened since then. In fact, that was 3 months ago. I am now in Sucre, Bolivia, hanging around doing pretty much nothing. Something I am very good at. I’m going to take some Spanish lessons for a few weeks, so should have some time to avoid studying by updating this blog. I’ll try to do so via pictures more than words, as I find that’s what everyone is interested in anyway. At least that’s all I look at on other people’s blogs. Which I look at pretty much never.

I have some journals from Cuba as well which I’ll try to edit slightly. Some of my favorite pictures are from there so that will be tough to put together. Or not. Whatever. All depends on how patient I am with uploads. Which pretty much means you may never see another photo. I’ll try though.

Currently listening:

Hidden Treasure – DJ Vadim

Scuba diving in Playa Giron

Feliz Nuevo Año – 1 January 2013

Sitting in a casa paticulare in Havana Vieja. Booming hangover from the 900 mojitos we had last night. And a cigar, which Mylene smoked most of. I’m not a big cigar fan, but when in Cuba I suppose everyone has to have at least one. Or two. I’m sure we’ll smoke a few more before our 3 weeks is up. We paid 9CUC for the Romeo y Julieta cigar. And got a free lesson on how to hold it properly from a man sitting nearby who was appalled by our lack of knowledge on the etiquette of cigar smoking. Now we know.

Lazing around nursing our sad heads. Mylene is laughing reading her journal from when she was working. So frustrated then! Very happy to be doing what I am doing now. Which is admittedly, nothing at all.

There’s a lot of music in Havana. Everywhere. You can’t get away from it even when you just want it to be quiet. Please. Please be quiet. Please. Oh my God…

So we spent our New Years in a bar called La Bodeguita del Medio made famous by Ernest Hemingway and also our man Fidel. Many mojitos later and we found ourselves in a club with Roberto and Victor, our new friends from Oslo, via Mexico. There was dancing and some laughing involved and then a taxi ride in a 1950s era Pontiac, and all of a sudden the front desk was calling to say we were supposed to have checked out 20 minutes ago.

The bell boy took us to his friend’s house to stay, so that’s where we are now. Just prior we found a restaurant charging 3.50 for chicken and rice and a tukola, which is a sad excuse for a soda. Stick with the lemon flavour. And live music again which was ok at that stage. Cuban food is not fabulous. Neither is the cola, but the mojitos are great. Much better than you get outside Cuba. Fresh mint and very little sugar and only a tiny splash of soda water. So essentially, rum.

Favorite cat-call so far: “Hola! Charlie’s Angels! Come into my restaurant. Blue eyes, free drinks!”

Also, our back packs are REALLY heavy. Something has to be done about that.

Initial impressions of Cuba: people are pretty friendly. Men like to tell you you are beautiful, which really never gets old, everyone seems to be just hanging out on the street, they leave their front doors open, and they really like Michael Jackson. And Adele.

People like to ask where you’re from a lot. I never really know what to say. They look confused when I say American, skeptical when I say from Hong Kong, and if I say Irish they more often than not misunderstand and think I am from “Hollanda”, not Irlanda. Regardless, I think everyone here has a cousin or child living in the Miami area.

First blog

I’m not really sure how to do this blogging thing. I feel a little geeky, but I guess it will be easier than sending emails separately to everyone.

I’ll be heading to Mexico City on Dec 30th to meet up with my friend Mylene at a hotel near the airport. Sounds awful and shady when I put it that way, but that’s what’s happening. I hope she’s sitting at the bar doing tequila slammers with an ex-con when I arrive. It’s just my romantic vision of Mexico.

We fly out to Havana fairly early the next morning so no use floating around in Mexico City for half a day (sorry Olmo). That’s the plan anyway. I’ll periodically try to update this blog with some comments and more importantly photos so you can see what I’m up to and also take bets on how long it’s been since I had a proper shower. (My record so far is 6 days sans wash in Nepal).

Next update and official beginning will be from Mexico City in 2 days…