Ain't No valley Low Enough

I really love the outdoors and seeing beautiful scenery but I'm not an adventurerer per se. Nevertheless, I always seem to forget this and agree to go on multi-day camping trips and several hours long kayak trips, only to conclude at the end that I really hate that shit. I'd rather appreciate it from a calm boat ride or a lift. Camping eludes me; I hate sleeping in tents, it smells, it's stuffy, I really don't get the appeal. I hate being dirty, I like to hike though, and by that I mean take a walk on flat ground for an hour or so. Mind you, I'm in good shape, I work out several times a week and I am fair game for exploring a new city by foot. But climbing a volcano at a 60 degree angle for four hours just really isn't my cup of tea. Let me take you on my journey....

I paid 80 USD, which is a bit steep (haha) but oh, it would be so worth it, right? The fee included a guide and all my gear; backpack, gloves, gaiter, windbreaker, snow pants, some butt protector thing (more on that later), metal clamps, boots and an ice pick. Yeah, it's when I saw the ice pick strapped to my pack that I thought this might not be a great idea.

Anyway, my dumbass is still all excited, Giulia is nervous and I'm telling her she'll do great. Which of course she did. I on the other hand, climbed for about 15 mintes, my lungs raging and my heart ready to explode, I had to stop. I was so mentally unprepared for this expedition that not only did my body need a minute to adjust but now I was scared. I did a little crying because we all know I do that so well and then I told myself to man up and keep rolling. I hate looking weak in front of people. I can' tell you how terrifying it is to be 3,000 meters up a mountain, and digging your feet, which now weight about 15 pounds each thanks to the boots, into volcanic ash, and sliding back with each step. Because of the crumbly nature of the sand and ash, taking one step forward often resulted in two steps back. Finally, I think after an hour or so, although I had no sense of time during the trek, we came upon snow. “This will be better,” I thought. “I'm from Buffalo, I can DO snow and ice.” I thought if I planted my feet firmly in the snow, I'd do a lot less sliding backwards. Which was mostly true for about ten minutes until we hit real ice and then it was a slip and slide free-for-all. In addition, we were now engulfed in a full-on gale, threatening our balance and making a fall off the side seem very plausible. At this point, I was feeling the Tourette's coming out in me, I let the f-bomb slide out a few times, muttering and cursing to myself as I inched facefirst in the ice up this goddamn mountain. I thought I'd really much rather let someone waterboard me for free, keep my 80 bucks and spend it on a nice bottle of Veuve and some oysters. This climbing shit was for the birds.

What could I possibly think about to distract myself from this hell? My mother told me about a writing practice she had done the week before in which you answered three questions. What surprised you today? Inspired you? Motivated you? I get the subtle difference between motivate and inspire but it didn't really seem all that different to me on last Thursday or Friday or any other day I had it in my head. But ohhhhh, I saw the difference on that hellish Sunday morning. What surprised me was how f-ing hard it was it climb this goddamn mountain. The tour companies, likely eager to sell, don't forewarn you about much, don't ask if you have asthma, a heart condition, nothing. I'm pretty active and I'm fairly young so I did NOT think that I would be having such a hard time. What inspired me? Giulia's 22-year, Swiss self scurrying up the mountain like a damn billy goat. Not for nothing, but that girl smokes like a chimney. Damn! What motivated me? Honestly? Fear, pride and chocolate. I was terrified of falling off that mountain and being left alone so I stuck with the group. My pride would not let me quit in front of others and the promise of an enormous chocolate gelato after the climb really paved the way.

Did I mention that it is high summer right now in Chile? That means the sun is hot as hell but you're on a mountain with snow and wind and you've got to stay covered up to avoid sunburn and illness. So we're all sweating like animals and I would venture to say the gear they gave us wasn't washed after each use, rendering a distinct and altogether unpleasant aroma. Also, you have to put on sunblock every 12 seconds or so or else the sun will scald several layers of your skin off. Try slapping some SPF 70 on a sweaty face with pebbles stuck under your nails and volcanic ash coating your hands and I dare you not to get any in your eyes, producing an unbearable stinging, profuse eye-watering and clutching of face for at least ten minutes. When it subsides, repeat immediately.

After what seemed like hours, we finally reached the top, well, almost. Our guide told us that the volcano was spewing too much gas, which is toxic, so we'd just wait 15 minutes or so. Great, because I was not really convinced that the toxicity levels would have plummeted in a scant 15 minutes. But make it to the top we did, where I most certainly ingested my lifetime recommended intake of sulfuric gases. Anyway, we started to make our descent, where things got a lot more interesting. We strapped on those butt protector things, really high-tech diaper-like contraptions slathered with duct-tape, and made our way down the mountain on our butts. There were all these paths carved out by millions of other peoples' weary butts and I begrudgingly admit I had a ball cruising down the mountain in this fashion. They told us to keep our legs out but all that surface area would slow you down so of course, I pulled my legs in and went for the fast ride. One woman in our group didn't understand the mechanics of physics very well so she kept getting stuck and then we would have a sort of snowy-mountaintop bumper car thing going on that was also quite funny. We now were shrouded in clouds and there were times where you'd be hurtling forward with no one around you and the snow and clouds eating up every sound, the ash creating an eerie, grey veil on top of the snow, it was really quite incredible.

We finally made it down the mountain,looking bedraggled and exhausted, except for Giulia of course, who looked all smiley and accomplished. It's amazing how quickly you forget the pain because an hour later I was showered and enjoying an ice cream cone in the sun and feeling quite pleased with myself. Yes, I know that it is good to challenge yourself mentally and physically and in retrospect, I suppose I was glad that I did it. The day was really a lesson in patience and humility and while I don't regret it, I think I've had my fill of conquering the great outdoors for now.

First Installment from Chile!!!!

Hola, long time, yes, I know. On my trip, I will be blogging and sending out mass emails, if there is some overlap, please forgive. I hope to focus more on food here and of course, be a little more colorful than I would be in mass emails. That may change though. Stay posted.

So, let's start with the food! So far, so mediocre. But improving. The first day I got into Santiago, I went down the street and ordered pastel de choclo, a Chilean dish. If I were from Chile, this would be comfort food. It's a big mush of sweet corn topping with eggs, beef, chicken and olives. It was pretty good actually, although when it's 90 degrees out, it's not exactly what I had in mind. I'm a big fan of hard-boiled eggs in all dishes (on greens with some bacon, in braciole and red sauce) so I enjoyed that but something just wasn't right about that "beef."
Also at this point, I had no clue about prices in Chile so I'm thinking $4,800 (divide by 600 or so) made for a pretty cheap meal. Today I wouldn't pay more than $2,500 for lunch since, as we know, I'm damn near a local now. Really though, I have a much better grasp of the relational economics at play now than I did upon arrival.

For dinner, I went down the street and paid an exorbitant amount for a salad and some really dry bread with chorizo. As an aside, I can overlook the dry bread because I love that the menu described the bread as being "crowned" in chorizo. Lot so menus have things "bathed" in chocolate or caramel and even if it's just ok, I love the way it's worded. The next couple of nights, we cooked at Monika's apartment, which was both affordable, delicious and had the extra bonus of close proximity to a rooftop pool!

On Friday, Giulia and I got on the bus to Vina to relax and escape the Santiago sun. You'd think on the coast, we'd find some good seafood but it was all overpriced tourist crap and fast food. We finally found a place and I had a very nice grilled fish and papas salteados, nothing remarkable but pleasant. I also had my first pisco sour, or should I say I ordered one, took one sip and then promptly spilled the entire thing all over myself so that I smelled like a brewery.

Incidentally, things here are really sweet. I ordered a fruit juice at the market in Santiago and the man asked me if I wanted it very sweet. I said not really and he proceeded to dump a LOT of sugar in. Then, while walking around Vina, we kept being seduced by the smells coming from innumerable bakeries. Finally we could take it no more and gave in. I got lemon pie with the most voluminous meringue I've ever seen. Except it wasn't good, no discernible lemon taste, just straight sugar.

When I got to Valparaiso on Monday, I went straight to a little restaurant near the Central Market called Donde Carlito's, known for it's seafood. I got the Paila Marina, which is another Chilean dish that I apparently can't stand. Their cuisine doesn't seem to have much flavor. This dish was essentially a fish stew, with a cloudy, grey, obscenely hot broth and a ton of different seafood. The soup was so hot, I had to wait about 20 minutes before I took a bit, and let me tell you, it was not worth the wait. The broth reminded me of dirty bath water and the seafood was boiling away in it for what seemed like forever. We all know I HATE overcooked seafood. At this point, I was getting kinda pissed and fearful that I would spend the rest of the five months eating the bread, which is the only thing I like so far. To the market I went, bought some tomatoes and avocado and happily dined on that for a couple days.

On Thursday, I went to the Hare Krishna place and for about $2, I got a huge, wonderful bowl of white beans and pumpkin with a great salad that was topped with shredded beets, as well as some apple-tamarind juice that was delicious. Things were looking up! For dinner, I went to a panaderia and bought a spinach pie with egg in it that of course I loved. And it cost 500 pesos, which isn't even a dollar.


Thursday, I had lunch with two friends from the hostel. We did the daily menu thing, which means you get an appetizer, entree and dessert or coffee for a set price, usually much cheaper than anything on the regular menu. Salad here generally means iceberg but the fried fish entree was fresh and well-cooked. The coffee was pretty wack but decent for Chile, where Nescafe seems to be the norm. I'm really missing coffee. However, this place also does the the fresh juice thing, I got watermelon-aloe and it was slammin'.

Finally, I had to go and get the bus to Pucon. It started not so great. I was sitting on the second floor of the bus in the last row and I knew whoever I got to next to would be a real jerk because who else waits that long to get their bus ticket? Me and this a**hole, apparently. Not only was he sitting in the window seat, he didn't even look up when I sat down. I mean, first of all, he knew that wasn't his seat and second, if we are going to spend the next 12 hours together, most of it in the supine position, could I get a nod or something? The bus was stifling, it smelled like bad breath and my kind neighbor had his big elbows and knees all in my space. But somehow I fell asleep and when I did, the jerk was gone and I got to watch the sun come up over the mountains and the glistening Lake Villarica. A good ending after all.
Quickly hiked to my hostel, took a much-deserved shower and went out exploring. I love Pucon, it makes me want to sing “The hills are alive...” Really, it looks like Austria here, all dewy pines, and soaring, snow-capped mountains. And a volcano! Which I might climb tomorrow! Anyway, I digress. I did two things today that I've been meaning to do; eat machas and mote con huesillos. Machas are like clams but they area specific variety native to Chile and they are often served baked ala parmigiana. It was kinda pricey but I figured I deserved it after spending the night with Mr. Elbows and Knees. Mote con huesillos is a drink or a snack, depends on how you look at it. I saw it all over Santiago and had no idea what it was. Well, it is fantastic, corn kernels and preserved peaches in their juice. I know I'm not explaining that well but there is no other way. It's like three things at once; the chewy corn (not like our corn, by the way), the sweet and lightly spiced juice spooned over it, and the sweet peaches.
OK, sorry for the abrupt ending but the hammock out by the pool is begging for a nap.

Italy: Part One

So I was going to do this long, extended, several-part post on my magnificent trip to Italy this past fall and I just keep pushing it to the side. It was so monumental and filled with delectable morsels that I feared I would not do it justice by memorializing it in my usual, haphazard, bullet-point laden way. Now it's been over two months since my return and I've said nary a word, not so much as a peep. Well, before this year is over and my memory comPLETEly fails me, I am going to give it a shot.

I arrived in Rome on Wednesday morning after a long, long plane ride. I took the subway to our "B&B," which was less a bed and breakfast and more a rented closet in a crazy lady's apartment. It was odd to say the least but I'll touch on that a bit later. Anyway, Nicole was just finishing up breakfast and so I laid down my bags, took a quick shower and we were on our way! First stop was to pick up our Roma passes. We took the subway to Repubblica to that end and the way, we saw our first gelato place so we stopped for a quick taste. I got ciocolatto, Nicole got pistaccio and although in my now, less-euphoric state, I can admit it wasn't the best I've ever had, I swooned nonetheless. First gelato in Rome!

We hopped a bus to head towards a neighborhood known for pizza, cheap pizza at that. I should remember the neighborhood but I don't and this is an example of why I should have attacked this task two months ago. We weren't on for long when we jumped off to take pictures of this and that, Rome is gorgeous and crumbling and majestic and on and on. We found ourselves at a spot called PizzeriaRe and procured ourselves a table outside and, still giggling and mumbling in our imperfect Italian, managed to order some pasta dish and also a pizza. I don't know what we ate but it was marvelous; the pasta was chewy and had just the right bite, the pizza was light as air.






After that, we took a stroll through Campo di Fiori and across the river to Trastevere. As soon as we came upon the Tiber river with its tree-lined boulevards and ancient bridges, I just fell in love. I fall in love all the time so perhaps you may think this wasn't noteworthy but just wait til you see it for yourself! Still stuffed from our magnificent lunch, we decided to skip dinner and just have gelato.