Downhill Madness in Bolivia

I finally had the chance to review the CD of photos so thoughtfully provided by our tour company in Bolivia. I must admit that I didn't really check out much of the scenery that day except when we stopped to rest. I was a tad preoccupied with my brakes and avoiding the abyss. Eventually we made it through the clouds and down into the rainforest. We biked through waterfalls, over rocks, past makeshift shrines and eventually made it to Coroico, Bolivia where we lived it up at the Hotel Esmeralda for a few days. We were just living the dream...

The Dreadlock Mullett

Mendoza, Argentina. By this point in my trip I had become somewhat accustomed to the mohawk mulletts that most Argentinian youth, women included, embraced. It wasn't a look I understood, other than as an unfortunate homage to something better left in the '80s, and yet it was so prevalent that eventually I expected it. Then I saw this guy. Look at him, casually sporting a dreadlock mullett like it is the most natural hairstyle in the world which of course it is not. It was so obvious, so unique and so completely ridiuclous that I found myself looking around the cafe wondering why the rest of the diners were not choking on their cafes con leche like me. I had to document this mullett sighting (perhaps a first? National Geographic Channel anyone?) and took as subtle yet clear a photo as possible. Wherever this man is, this maverick of hair, I hope he is still rocking the hell out of his dreadlock mullett.

Feliz cumpleanos Dakota Wren!!!

My niece turns 2 years old today, and yet I can't imagine a time when she wasn't a part of our lives. Isn't it amazing how the tiniest, newest people can have the biggest and happiest effect? I haven't seen her since January but I imagine those bright blue eyes of hers soaking up every ounce of spring that Nature has to offer. The word is that she is talking much more now, has discovered the joys of Elmo and is taller every day with actual curls we can brush. I thought of her so often on my journey, wondering what places in the world will one day intrigue and beckon her to visit. Naturally I have quite a few S's for the little ladybug (S's being "surprises") Bolivia and Peru and Colombia. Considering that she is the only niece upon whom I can bestow my nurturing, maternal affection, I actually managed to exercise quite a bit of restraint in the presents department, but still I can't wait to see her open her regalos.

Happy birthday sweet Dakota! Te amo muchisima y para siempre.

Con mucho amor,

Tia Katie

CARTAGENA, Colombia

I took a break from all my leisure in Bogota to fly to the Caribbean coast. Ever since Romancing the Stone, that cinematic gem of my youth, I have wanted to explore Cartagena. Since they filmed the movie in Mexico, and it is in fact fiction, I had a slightly more mellow experience than that of Joan Wilder and Jack Colton, aka Kathleen Turner and Michael Douglas, but it was still cool. Cartagena was "founded" in 1533 and ruled by the Spanish for several centuries; it was a major slave port and the subject of numerous pirate raids that inspired the construction of the stone fortress wall that still surrounds the city to this day. I woke up early one morning and walked around the city, on the wall for most of the time; in some places it is even wide enough to boast tourist restaurants. The architecture in the city is extremely old. Colonial buildings, those that are gorgeously restored and others that are crumbling to the ground, exist on every street. There are not many roads inside the walled section of Cartagena that allow cars so walking around is easy and less dangerous for pedestrians than in other South American cities. I roamed the plazas and alleys until I got lost and then found. In between thunderstorms I spent some time on the beach accidentally sunburning my feet, reading a book and politely but firmly declining the many services offered by the walking beach vendors.

On my last night I stumbled upon La Vitrola Restaurante which is as it turns out one of the best places in the city. Being alone and without a reservation I still managed to sweet talk and smile my way to a table where I enjoyed a delicious seafood dinner, live music, and the unique Latin flavors of the tables around me. It seems to me that South Americans enjoy life more, savor the moment more, and I loved watching their evenings unfold and eavesdropping on their everyday tales and gossip. Knowing this was my last night alone, but grateful that I had Brendan to return to in Bogota, I raised my wine glass (OK a few glasses) to the end of my solo journey through South America. There were times when it was lonely, but I am tougher than I look, and more adventurous than I thought. I am so glad I followed my dream. Here's to the next one!

Back in the Jerz

Has it really been a week already? An entire week since these size tens were walking the streets of South America? Lucky for me I spent the past week in a dreamlike trance, intoxicated by both the culture shock and the shocking springtime that has turned the east coast into a colorful and scentful feast. It has been a long time since I enjoyed la primavera and I forgot how intriguing it is when the entire world seems to bloom at once. The neighbor's front yard is a pink carpet of fallen cherry blossoms and the daffodil bulbs I planted before I left are trumpeting yellows and golds. How can I think about a job and responsibility when Nature is dictating friskiness and release? I find it difficult to seriously consider the unfortunate reality of my bank account when the weather is so damn perfect, especially since I have no conversion rate crutch to make those dollars feel like more than they are. I leave for San Diego in less than two weeks and until then I shall write and run and read and play. It is good to be home.