spanish speaking

Random complaint of the week

2008-12-01T16:49:00.003-06:00

Why are Pitchfork's search functions so terrible? Can someone stop trying to be so smart over there and start making the site a bit more navigable, please? And why do I still check out Pitchfork nearly every single day? Maybe that's the real question, my friends!

questions and observations involving sierra mist, etc.

2008-01-24T21:25:00.002-06:00

- who in the world would ever claim sierra mist to be their favorite pop?

- over the recent holiday season, while in an airport, i overhead an older, filipino-american doctor talking to a couple of american businessman about his granddaughter. "she has such an amazing outgoing personality," he said, "so friendly, always smiling, and she can talk to just about anyone about anything, too! oh, what a personality she has! really, it's like that of a hooker!"

new music blog

2006-09-19T22:23:00.000-05:00

THE HOP

<--the parliaments feat. george clinton

Hey, you! No peeing in the lake!

2006-07-27T15:06:00.001-05:00

Originally uploaded by rswells.

up at summer camp. wet hot.

all the photos

2006-07-09T23:48:00.000-05:00

i'm in kansas.
i'm about halfway through uploading the fotos from my recent trip to mexico and brasil.
i leave for camp in minnesota on wednesday.

i still don't know how to feel about zidane's vicious headbutt.

excerpts from most recent conversation with bríjido the taco man

2006-06-02T12:50:00.001-05:00

(upon my arrival)
b-it´s a miracle! i thought you´d gone away and left us for good!
r-no. i just went to eat elsewhere for a few days.

b-seems to me you´ve traveled to many places.
r-yeah, i guess so.
b-have you been to spain?
r-yes.
b-france?
r-yes.
b-england?
r-yes?
b-germany?
r-yes.
b-austria?
r-no.
b-portugal?
r-no, i´ve never been to portugal.
b-do you know where portugal is?
r-yes, i know where portugal is.
b-it´s just next to spain. a small country.

b-have you ever been to lebanon?
r-no.
b-saudi arabia?
r-no.
b-egypt?
r-no, i´ve never been to the middle east.
b-those are arabic countries...israel?
r-no.
b-now let´s go through the african countries!
r-but i´ve never been to africa.
b-algeria?
r-no.
b-ethiopia?
r-no.
b-the congo, angola, senegal?
r-no, i told you already. i´ve never been to africa.
b-somalia?

r-and if you could travel to one country, bríjido, which one would it be?
b-all of europe and asia.
r-no, one country.
b-just one?
r-just one.
b-denmark!!!
r-denmark? why denmark?
b-because the most beautiful women in the world come from there.
r-from denmark?
b-of course!
r-and how do you know that?
b-because they´ve come by here, they´ve eaten tacos here before. one with blue eyes, the other green. and long hair that went all the way down their backs. whooo! they were here in 2093.
r-2093? you met them in the future?
b-no, i messed up. i meant to say 1993. they came with their men, too. as tall as the fucking ceiling, i tell you.

(at this point bríjido walks away from me and quietly cuts up tortillas for a few minutes. he then groups the small tortilla bits in his old hands, walks outside, and gently drops them on the ground. he´s feeding the pigeons.)

(as i´m getting ready to leave)
b-where are your papers? you´ve got to have your papers on you!
r-i´ve got my little notebook here. just with random thoughts and notes.
b-let me see. ah, it´s in english, huh?
r-yep.
b-hmm...all i see are spiders.
r-well, here´s my driver´s liscense.
b-aha...says here that $50,000 goes to whoever turns in this young man, wanted for stealing women and eating without paying!

b-what was your name again? andrés, right?
r-no, it´s robert. like roberto, but without the o. where´s andres come from?
b-oh, that´s the name of my daughter´s boyfriend. she lives in tennessee. she studies dinosaur bones.

nearly a week in

2006-05-29T12:01:00.000-05:00

i´ve been doing the cultural rounds during the day: museums, parks, cathedrals, plazas. just between the alameda central and the palacio de bellas artes i found a guy selling some lp´s last thursday. i flip through what he has sitting out and then ask if he´s got any mexican rock from the 60´s and 70´s, like LA REVOLUCION DE EMILIANO ZAPATA. this signifies to him that i must know what the deal is. i don´t really, but i tell him that i´m kind of a dj and i´m mostly into soul and funk 45´s these days. he tells me to come back the following day and he´ll bring some mexican stuff on 45 that i might be into. alright ok.

back the next day, but not before entering the palacio de ba and admiring the murals, though many of them are so big that support columns for the museum´s very structure tend to block a complete view. when i go back to the music man, pablo, i see that he´s brought out his record player and has a small stack of 45´s with him. oh, and he´s got his leopard-skin pantalones on him and a girl that looks to be his daughter with him, but is really his girlfriend...he shows me a few items and i´m definitely interested, but vacillate on what to buy. in the end, i walk away with three: la revolucion de emiliano zapata on polydor, peace and love on raff, and tinta blanca on philips. pablo tells me he´ll have more next week, too. word.

from there i walk to a small taquería. i´m there by myself, save for bríjido, the taco man - a true character. he talks to me of tall germans, california, and the value of an education. i eat my three tacos soaked in lime juice and tell him i´ll be back. when? he asks. soon, i respond.

i see X-MEN 3 later that evening. without a doubt, i was the only gringo in the sold out theater. the movie was nothing more that ehhhh and i ate too much popcorn. taking the long way home, i see a men´s clothing store called ROBERT´S: EL ARTE DE SER (ROBERT´S: THE ART OF BEING). not quite the CREPUSCULARITY, but funny enough. i then pass through the zocalo and come upon a book fair. a pleasant surprise. make a few purchases before getting back to the hotel, playing a few games of tetris on my game boy, and then trying to get to sleep.

as a tourist, it seems that consumption works the quickest to abate the solitude, but the few friends i´ve found in pablo and brígido help too.

the next day, saturday, i start off with some chicken quesadillas - with the green sauce, aka the hot shit. my fire breath quickly went from dragon to dragoon. i spend the afternoon in chapultepec park and check out the huge and impressive anthropology museum nearby, though only make my way through maybe 1/3 of it in two hours.

that night i´m trying to kill the usual down time twixt dinner and bed when i hear this bad, bad music being played. it´s ostensibly a cover band at an outdoor cafe. vh1 gone bad kind of thing. all long hair, tight shirts, and self-styled attitude. making jokes about being wasted and on drugs at 9.45 pm. they went from some contemporary emo to radiohead´s ´creep.´ and the drummer. oh, god. the drummer was way off, doing all these superfluous flourishes and fills, but would not stop fucking twirling his sticks at every opportunity! he´s whirling them around like they were lassos. then, he takes a sip of his bottled water and directly spits it out like an aggressive fountain. some strange noise soon starts to emanate from the crowd. i look over to see one of the male fans standing up on a bench and threatening to take down his pants. he comes close, but eventually refrains and is pulled down from on high. the band ends with a cover of ´are you gonna go my way´ by lenny kravitz, which turns immediately into an extended drum solo. naturally. it´s all i can do to laugh and walk away.

more soon. yesterday turned into a big day itself, including a protest led by masked men and women and another encounter with brígido.

el df

2006-05-25T11:13:00.000-05:00

after a few fun-filled weeks with the good people of kansas city and lawrence, i arrived in mexico city two nights ago. the in-flight film was LAST HOLIDAY. a curious movie about christmas and cancer, starring queen latifah, ll cool j, and guest-starring none other than gerard depardieu. an unheralded classic, no doubt. upon arriving at the airport, i breezed through customs and was put into a suburban taxi with another american. his destination: a hotel called FIESTAMERICANA.

i checked in to my spot, HOTEL ISABEL, close to the city´s historic center. the elevator smelled of cinnamon. a few rooms down from me i noticed that 2 american dudes were drinking tequila drinks outside of their room. after dropping off my gear, i walked down to introduce myself and see what they were on about. turns out they had just graduated from occidental college in california two days earlier and were on a graduation trip. one spoke spanish very well, the other knew only a few words and phrases. they invited me to join them for a drink and i accepted. as we walked the empty streets, however, we quickly realized that we weren´t exactly in the social district. nevertheless, this did not stop the one dude from using one of his well-practiced phrases wherever we went: ´¿dónde está la mota?´ (´where is the weed?´) oh, americans - i feel that i feel a strange love for you all!

back at the hotel, i struggled for slumber. the bed felt more like a board, the pillow a styrofoam block. luckily, though, the modest room contained another bed and another pillow for your humble narrator.

yesterday started with a big breakfast: bread, sweet bread, scrambled eggs, beans, tea, orange juice. along with my 2 american counterparts, i then traversed the metropolis´ underbelly via the steamy metro. our main afternoon stop: the universidad nacional autónoma de méxico (unam), the country´s largest university. 260,000 estudiantes, according to the guidebook. it´s main attraction: the central library whose facades present the makings of mexico in mosaic on all sides (as seen above).

i left my compadres later that evening. they had switched hotels, looking for more exciting nighttime activities. i went back to ISABEL. in my room by 9pm. tired through and through, but, once again, finding little sleep. here i am today, though, armed with a few mild tourist trappings, about to make my way to the city´s main plaza, el zócalo.

bigote - 3.25.06

2006-03-26T12:34:00.000-06:00

bigote - 3.25.06
Originally uploaded by rswells.

radio radio and new friends

2006-01-15T20:22:00.000-06:00

i just found out that i will be on the radio at a much better time this semester: tuesdays from 3.00-5.15 (est) in the afternoon. you can stream the show during that time by going to the wcbn website. i start this tuesday. for those in and around ann arbor, the station is wcbn 88.3 fm.

i've also got some new friends these days. here are some more photos.

the dude

2006-01-02T17:28:00.000-06:00

curtis 2
Originally uploaded by rswells.

brother curtis made the first ever bowling team at shawnee mission east high school a few weeks ago; the young man promptly rolled an impressive 239 yesterday at the first day of practice.

bargain blaze

2005-12-27T18:35:00.000-06:00

ok, since so many of my ann arbor counterparts and colleagues are now busily blogging away, here's a little something from me, as 2006 is now nigh.

records purchased today:
{@ the music exchange in westport - sadly, this warehouse will be going out of business in the next month and it really is kc's big-time record store. everything 35% off}
esther phillips - 'from a whisper to a scream'
love unlimited orchestra - 'music maestro please'
shirley bassey - 'is really something'
player - 's/t'
charles wright and the 103rd st rhythm band - 'express yourself'
crown heights affair - 'sure shot'
the andrea true connection - 'more, more, more' (disco single)
jan hammer group - 'oh, yeah?'
al di meola - 'land of the midnight sun'
david crosby - 'if i could only remember my name...'
captain beyond - 's/t'
{@ 1/2 price books in westport. some cost 50 cents, nothing over $5}
eddie kendricks - 's/t'
carole king - 'music'
stevie wonder - 'characters'
al green - 'green is blues'
bobby caldwell - 'cat in the hat'
wes montgomery - 'a day in the life'
grover washington, jr - 'feels so good'
michael mcdonald - 'if that's what it takes'
young mc - 'bust a move' (single, no joke)

currently reading: pnin by vladimir n.
currently bumming because: yao ming will be out 4-6 weeks with a toe injury, which completely throws off my nba fantasy squad
last movie watched: munich last night with parents and brother jay. super-intense and i think i liked it. still waiting to see syriana, though.
record of the year: broken social scene - 's/t'
movie of the year: grizzly man

late break update

2005-10-25T21:57:00.000-05:00

pink champagne cupcakes at mom's 50th
Originally uploaded by rswells.

i had my fall break 2 weekends ago. fun times for serious. first my parents flew up here to ann arbor, and together we took in an amazing paul mccartney concert that friday night, an impressive michigan football game the next day, and numerous good meals. paul pulled out all the stops, the wolverines won on the final play of the game, and i ate a rainbow trout wrapped in prosciutto (aka fancy bacon). then we all flew back to kc on sunday to celebrate mom's 50th birthday the next tuesday. she had a "game party" with an ivitation list of 50 femmes. i also got a chance to spend a fine night in lawrence with the crew. photos of the extended weekend can be seen by clicking here.

all was going well and more or less according to plan...until the travel day from h-e-double hockey sticks on that thursday. i arrived at kci around 8.30am and was supposed to arrive at detroit at 12.45pm on northwest airlines. after one first class upgrade wasted, 2 ginger ales, a pepperoni pizza bagel that made me say "oh my gross" out loud as i consumed it, a maintenance issue with an electrical box on the first plane, which never took off, a long wait in a long line to get re-routed, a $5 calling card courtesy of nw airlines as a compensation for my troubles, a flight to minneapolis, a dinner at chili's too where i finished reading MRS. DALLOWAY, a flat tire and a missing co-pilot on my third plane, which did eventually take off for detroit, a long wait for a shuttle to the big blue deck parking facility, a gas stop to fill up my car, and a key episode of LOST missed, i arrived in ann arbor after 10.30pm.

uh-oh, ab came to town

2005-09-29T14:38:00.000-05:00

abbey hugs trees
Originally uploaded by rswells.

although a few days removed, images and sensations from last weekend continue to linger and loiter about my mind. yes, the young doctor made a visit. unfortunately, she spent most of the weekend rather pissed - both in the american and the british sense. indeed, after a beer.5 she'd start rambling on about how much she liked this band called the fire arcade and then go on and on about the weather, footwear, her extensive "running," and disease. she referred to these things as "phernomener."

on saturday, however, things settled down, or should i say brightened up, when we went to ann arbor's arborous arboretum after walking through a protest on campus against the war. i had never been to such a place before, thus my reaction. abbey, on the other hand, maintained her dour disposition until she found a lonely tree that, much like herself, was in need of a little tlc. meanwhile, i proceeded to make a fake firearm and aim it at the dorky dorm kids that tried in vain to play ultimate frisbee and other simple, relatively unatheltic games, like catch.

later in the afternoon, we took in a funny film, THE BAXTER, done by the same people who did THE STATE and WET HOT AMERICAN SUMMER. we both laughed and laughed.

sunday meant studyday, at least for a while. a-b read from a book that looked to weigh as many kilograms as she, while i finished off a novel called THE VOYEUR by a. robbe-grillet. i drank my raspbetty tea and she an amerispresso. the weekend's highlight came that night: 2nd row tickets to INTERPOL. when i screamed out "STELLA!" they went right into "stella was a diver and she was always down." whether they heard me or not, i'm still not sure - you tell me. no photos, sadly, but we both looked really good and my red umbrella matched her red hoodie.

in the end, she also listened to my heart. with her stethoscope.

(one other thing, anyone interested in downloading previous radio shows of mine - i've only done two, one more tonight - can click on this link for access. just click on either sept 16th or 23rd and then the 3, 4, or 5 am options and it will take you to a realplayer to stream the show.)

do i do

2005-09-18T09:33:00.000-05:00

dinner
Originally uploaded by rswells.

last night, i drank a couple imports while watching a french film - i'm trying to watch all of the movies in the antoine doinel series by f. truffaut - in my "tv room," before doing some dancing and getting into some bacchanalia at the BANG!

on thursday night / friday morning, i had my first radio show of the semester on WCBN FM ANN ARBOR at the ungodly hour of 3-6am (2-5am cst). my first set went like this, starting from the top:

the velvet underground - satellite of love (demo)
bill withers - lovely day
bobbi humphrey - uno está
pavement - no tan lines
q-tip - let's ride
lowrell - mellow mellow, right on

if you want to review the rest of my playlist, you can go to the WCBN website and search for it under "playlists." i can tell you right now, though, that "remember" by air from MOON SAFARI shall serve as next week's opening theme.

i had one caller phone in, asking me what song i was playing at that moment because he thought it was cool, which made the whole thing worth it. (the song, by the way, was donny hathaway's live cover of john lennon's "jealous guy.") it was fun to be djing again, no doubt, even though only a handful of people probably heard me. it is also fun to be able to say hello to more people in this city. people that i've already met through the radio radio. in the city that already puts a foreboding faint chill into its arborous air.

one other recent development of note can be viewed in this post's photo. yes, i now am the proud owner of a grill or grille. this, of course, brings me one step closer to becoming an M-A-N.

in other news

2005-09-03T11:31:00.000-05:00

this is what the face of venus looks like.

arrival

2005-09-03T11:10:00.000-05:00

the bean at millennium park
Originally uploaded by rswells.

after spending a few fun days visiting friends in milwaukee and chicago, i arrived in constantly arborous and sometimes ardorous ann arbor last monday. i found milwaukee to be surprisingly charming and hip and would like to send a special thank you, coupled with a birthday shout, out to la doctora maussonbronche.

chicago, meanwhile, was pretty laid back with trips to millennium and lincoln park, the lincoln park zoo, and the art institute of chicago. the art institute blew me away, especially the monets, renoirs, and the special exhibit on toulouse-latrec and montmarte.

i learned on thursday that i'll be teaching spanish 101 again this fall - classes start on tuesday. my house is not as dirty overall as i had previously feared, but the number of cobwebs confounds me. this morning i went to the farmer's market nearby and bought some broccoli, grapes, and a few paula red (semi-tart) apples.

i'd like to make a brief comment here on the imbroglio that once was the gulf coast: seems to me that this is the third time a massive loss of american life has occurred during the bush presidency; one can apparently blame all three tragedies and the respective after-effects on "bad intelligence."

(on a sidenote, i'd like to send my best to the burgeoning band, KELPIE, as they embark on their european tour opening up for koufax. godspeed you young men.)

moving on

2005-08-22T20:19:00.000-05:00

Originally uploaded by rswells.

being here in kansas for the past three weeks kinda felt like what's going on in this painting to the right.

anyone interested in the new broken social scene lp should click here to download one of their new songs, "7/4 (shoreline)."

kansas

2005-08-19T17:10:00.000-05:00

ku
Originally uploaded by rswells.

i've been home for a while now, doing the back and forth twixt kansas city and lawrence, family and friends. on tuesday i will begin the long drive back up north to ann arbor, making stops in milwaukee and chicago along the way. here are some photos that might help describe the time. (the big news in all of this, though, is that brother curtis made the freshman soccer team at sme.)

Epiblogue II

2005-08-01T18:47:00.000-05:00

What follows documents another one of my big trips that I just recently completed: a torrid ten days that took me to Cuzco, Ollantaytambo, Urubamba, Aguas Calientes, Machu Picchu, Puno, Lake Titicaca, las Islas Flotantes (twice), Amantaní, Taquile, and back to Cuzco to do the local disco. I’m left tired, but now have a few more friends from around the world.

Today I ate a nice lunch with Tali and her mother at a spot overlooking the Pacific. I ate ceviche—some rather acidic, raw fish. They ate anticuchos—cow hearts on a stick.

I leave for Dallas at 1am tonight, hang out there for about three hours, and then get back to KCI a little before 1pm. I have a bag of popcorn and an Inca Kola for the ride.

These past seven weeks have just been grand. Thanks to both everyone who’s read along with me and to those who have experienced any of this with me down here as well--wherever you are.

An extra-special thanks goes to Tali Dajes.

Chau.

Day 10—Saturday, July 30—Cuzco→Lima

2005-08-01T18:46:00.000-05:00

los chicos
Originally uploaded by rswells.

Up around 9am, I stumbled through breakfast and my ritualistic face washing. Adam, on the other hand, had to go the airport at 7am to pick up some more incoming American volunteers. After laying around, Bradford kindly gave me two Bayer (extra strength), and I got myself up to hang around the albuergue and its inhabitants one last time. I said a few sad goodbyes, told the locals that I’ll see them again there Cuzco, told the Spaniards that I’ll see them again in el País Vasco, and got to the airport an hour before my hour-long flight is set to take off. I leave on Tuesday.

I leave tonight.

Day 9—Friday, July 29—Cuzco

2005-08-01T18:45:00.000-05:00

out to dinner
Originally uploaded by rswells.

Two American volunteers arrived that morning: Bradford and Sergio. They had wanted a private room with a double bed, but the albergue could not accommodate, so we all slept on separate bunkbeds in the same dormitory that night. I took off to the city center in the morning and bought lots of shit. For lunch I stopped into a Mexican restaurant that my guidebook had hyped. Like any good Mexican food, it was cheap and overextended its welcome in my stomach. For 13 soles (roughly $4) I ate nachos, garlic bread, tortilla soup, two chicken tacos, guacamole, and refried beans. I also read a Borges short story while I took my time with the food. Then, I met up with Adam for a quick tea and a view and a walk up to Plaza San Blas.

That evening we went out with the Spanish girls to celebrate Adam’s birthday—he was turning 23 the following day. After a beer-and-a-half around the albergue, things started with dinner at a funky restaurant called Fallen Angel. The general décor included an aquarium below our table, house music, modern art, futons, and shattered mirrors in the bathroom. The night before the spot had housed a “Sexy Party.” We ordered a bottle of Chilean wine to drink and various types of lomo to eat, discussing the youth and the politics in our respective countries. After the meal and a few glasses of wine, I dropped my water glass on the table—it spilled and shattered. Glass on glass. Embarassed, I made matters worse by proceeding to drink from Ainhoa’s wine glass instead of mine own.

Afterwards, we went to the same Irish pub from a few nights before. No Guinness this time, though, but rather a local brew instead. We were supposed to meet up with Katie, but arrived some forty minutes late and she wasn’t to be found. The big question between us soon became—“Where was Jimi Hendrix born?” Adam and I maintained that he’s Enlgish—“Have you ever heard him talk?”—but Andere contended that he’s originally from Seattle. Her and I made a wager on the matter: a Cuscueña—at a bar and city to be announced later.*

We didn’t have to pay cover at the next spot, a disco named Mamá Africa, because Andere and Ainhoa pretended to be American, which meant that they didn’t speak while we waited in line. Once we arrived, the hour was getting nigh upon midnight, so Ainhoa and I headed to the DJ booth to try and get the man to announce Adam’s name over the loudspeaker, be he didn’t have a mic. By this point I had switched to whiskey and coke and Adam to gin and tonic, while the girls nursed a beer and then a water. We danced, we dance…Until the DJ went rather overboard with this Mission-Valley-style Green Day→Offspring→Marilyn Manson combo. I didn’t and don’t want to be thirteen ever again, so when he switched back to J. Lo→House of Pain→Black Eyed Peas→Wild Cherry, I felt relieved, but really not all that relieved.

By about 2am we left the disco. The girls considered going to another, but then decided to go home—they had to work the next day. The next spot, Africa, pretty much sucked wookie: suffocating crowd, blinding strobe lights, bad techno. We left after one beer and headed back to Mamá Africa. But, by this point in the early morning, unless you’re already tongue kissing, there’s not much going.

*I found out yesterday that I lost the bet.

Day 8—Thursday, July 28—Cuzco

2005-08-01T18:39:00.000-05:00

A relaxed day. Peru's independence day. I slept in and wandered around the albergue talking to whoever and helping the kids with there homework for a little while in the afternoon. For a while, I worked with Gumercindo on a story that read like THE BOY WHO CIRED WOLF. Adam felt sick, so he stayed in that night, but I went out with the Spanish girls and some other Basques from their same volunteer group that evening. I didn’t say much; hence I ended up drinking a few more than everyone else.

Day 7—Wednesday, July 27—Amantaní→Taquile→Puno→Cuzco

2005-08-01T18:38:00.000-05:00

traditional dance for tourists
Originally uploaded by rswells.

The next morning we woke up around 7am with the sun. Our family brought us some bread and an egg sandwich for breakfast. By 8am we were back on the boat and headed towards another nearby island, Taquile. The trip from the port to the plaza made for another 45-minute hike up a rocky path, but also afforded some spectacular views. Once in the plaza, more colorful celebration awaited us, as the locals put on a dance show for the tourists and in honor of their own country as well. I talked a little bit more with the Chilean girls, discussing Saved By The Bell and Beverly Hills 90210, and then ate lunch with Adam and Katie. From there, we walked down the 500 steps that led to the port on the opposite side of the island and boated back another three hours to the mainland. I read a few more stories and took a number of bored, beautiful pictures along the way. After a quick pizza dinner, Adam and I got on the 5.30 Power Bus back to Cuzco. It was another long ride, to be sure, but at least this time we got to watch a movie: RAMBO.

Day 6—Tuesday, July 26—Puno→Las Islas Flotantes→Amantaní

2005-08-01T17:55:00.000-05:00

100_1209
Originally uploaded by rswells.

Up at 7.45, we took a mini-bus down to the docks and then left port with our group around 8.30. First stop: Las Islas Flotantes. Again. We visited to two different islands this time, though. From there, the 3-hour plus boatride out to the tiny island community of Amantaní began. I ate too much popcorn and read some Cortazár short stories along the way. The deal set itself up so that we would spend the night with one of the local families. Little to no electricity or running water. Our mother for the day picked us up at Amantaní’s docks once we arrived around 2pm. She spoke little Spanish, mostly Quechua. Once we trekked the 20-minute trail up to her and her family’s home, Adam and I set our stuff down and rested for a while until lunch. Most of the family sat around and chatted with us while we ate our soup and vegetable lunch and drank our tea. I don’t remember any of the family members names, save the little grandson, Elvis.

After lunch, we met up with the rest of the group in the local plaza and began our 1-hour trek uphill to the top of the island. As the gentle lake breezes turned into a ripping wind, we watched the sunset over the lake and over Bolivia. At that point, I realized that I had lost my gloves and hat somewhere on the hike up, so I bought some more from one of the numerous local artisans that dotted our way up and down the trail. On my way back down, though, I found my hat with the help of Adam’s spare flashlight.

When we returned to the plaza, a patriotic parade began: marching schoolchildren carrying papier-mache creations illuminated by candles contained within, one of which caught on fire; at least fifteen poetry recitations dedicated to el Perú; the local mayor and governor; and a few marching bands. The original plan was that Adam and I would meet up with a girl named Sulmo or Zulmo or Zulma in the plaza during the festivities, but by this point everything was so dark that we couldn't see much of anything and we didn’t want to walk around directing our powerful flashlights towards the faces of unsuspecting spectators either. We had no idea where she was. No matter. We figured we could negotiate our way back to our house, using our flashlights and heightened sense of direction. After twenty minutes and a few wrong turns, we realized that we really had no idea where we going. “Does this look familiar to you?” “What?” “I say do you think we passed this abandoned house on the way here?” “I don’t know. I don’t think so. Maybe.” We decided to head back to the plaza, hoping that we would eventually run into someone there. In a moment that I will always attribute to pure, unadulterated luck, we ran into our dad on the way back. “¿Adán?” he asked. “Oh, thank you, Jesús.” Adam and I reckoned that he only remembered his name because Adam jokingly explained his name at dinner by saying that his wife, Eva, passed away a long time ago.

After another family meal, this one by candlelight, they dressed us in ponchos and colorful hats and had some different girl take us to the tourist dance party where traditional music and style would be on display. The party took place in one of the few building with electric lights. Not too many of the tourists actually made it, though, pry because they were all worn out from the day’s activities. Adam and I each drank a beer and chatted with the only other American girl, Katie. Every fifteen minutes or so, one of young the locals pulled us out to dance in a circle that went round and round. Right before the event concluded, I worked up the courage to ask a pretty Chilean girl to dance.

Neither Adam nor I slept too well that night, despite the fact that our family provided us with upwards of six wool blankets. I don’t think it was the cold that kept us awake, however, just the novelty of the surroundings.

Day 5—Monday, July 25—Puno→Las Islas Flotantes (Uros)

2005-08-01T13:24:00.000-05:00

reed boats with puma heads
Originally uploaded by rswells.

Adam and I woke up around 10.00 and headed straight for the Puno’s port on the shores of Lake Titicaca, the highest lake in the world. A tourist boat took us out to three of las Islas Flotantes (Uros), where we walked around but didn't really commingle with the local inhabitants. Tourism is a curious thing—just how helpful and harmful it is, I’m not always so sure.

As the day proceeded I could tell that I had some altitude sickness—aka “soroche”—going on: a capricious headache and a slight fever. We took it easy for the rest of the day and checked out Puno via various bici taxis. When it came time for a meal, we decided against the myriad pizzerias, and went for something a little more local instead. That evening, after we set up an overnight tour out to the islands of Amantaní and Taquile for the next day, I went to a pharmacy and bought myself some soroche pills. They did the job better than the prescription that I had brought with me from the US—the same one that had been making me lose sensation in my digits and my lips for the past few days.

Day 4—Sunday, July 24—Cuzco→Puno

2005-07-31T20:32:00.000-05:00

Adam woke me up a little before 10am, wondering whether or not I wanted to go to the big soccer game that day: Cuzco’s Cienciano vs. Lima’s Universitario. The winner would be league champion. I declined his offer, though, due to the fact that I felt pretty drained from doing the whole Machu Picchu dance the day before; thus, Adam gave my ticket away to a friend at the albergue, Edmundo. When I arrived at breakfast, Adam was wearing his jersey, working on his second beer and had a Red Bull in his pocket for later. Soon thereafter, however, I realized that the albergue’s two newest volunteers, Andere and Ainhoa, a couple of attractive Spanish girls from el País Vasco who use “vosotros” and pronounce Cuzco like “Cuthco,” would be attending the game as well, so I changed my mind and decided to join the group, making eight of us in all. I found a 2x1 ticket without much hassle outside of the stadium and then proceeded to quickly find a local friend willing to split the ticket with me. Together, we all put ourselves in the 4-block-long line that led to the entrance. Every ten minutes or so, the line shortened, which led the rest of us to make a mad dash to catch up to a spot closer to the front. In between dashes I drank a beer. Luckily, Lucía and Rocío found a shortcut in on the other side of the stadium and we found our way in fast.

We sat down in the Cuzco section. I was the only one in the group cheering for La U, but didn’t cheer too loudly because loyal fans of Cienciano vastly outnumbered me in terms of manpower, volume, and loyalty. They also came up with a number of creative, though vulgar, insults for the other team and sang and danced during the entire game. The nearby mountains cradled the stadium, giving it more grandeur than el Matute in Lima. The game proved to be more exciting as well. At halftime, Cienciano was up 1-0 on a header off a corner kick. Andere and I left our seats to procure some chicha—a colorful, corn-based, mildly alchoholic beverage—from out of a bucket for the crew. When we got back to our seats, I got some popcorn from one of the vendors too.

As the game resumed play, things started looking pretty bleak for La U, and then the middle-aged man sitting next to me wearing his Cienciano jersey gave me a thorough and manly embrace once his team scored a second goal late in the second half. That’s how it ended: 2-0.

After the game, Adam and I headed over to the bus station to buy our tickets to Puno. We gave ourselves an hour and a half to get ready and stock up on some supplies, taking off as the afternoon sun went down around 5.30. I couldn’t see much out my window, save a few sporadic fires that looked like miniature lighthouses in the distance. Much to our chagrin, and that of rest of the bus as well, no movie was shown. The ride also took longer than it was supposed to: we arrived in Puno after 1.30am instead 11.00pm. Nevertheless, we quickly found a hostal for the night.

feliz cumpleaños

2005-07-31T19:15:00.000-05:00

boy with mushroom 2
Originally uploaded by rswells.

yesterday, brother curtis turned 15. friend adam also turned 23. heads up.

Day 3—Saturday, July 23—Ollantaytambo→Aguas Calientes→Machu Picchu→Cuzco

2005-07-30T20:22:00.000-05:00

llama and machu picchu
Originally uploaded by rswells.

I woke up at 5.42. Hit the snooze button. Woke up again at 5.47. After washing my face, organizing my bags, and dressing, I heard a knocking on my chamber door at 6.10. It was the doorman from the night before: “You’re still going to eat breakfast at 6am, right?” “Yeah, yeah. I’m coming.” The breakfast consisted of tea, juice, coffee, and one pancake. On my way down the road, i witnessed the moonset. I arrived back at the ticket booth by 6.45, but the lady told me that the next available train would leave at 9.05 and that the roundtrip would cost about $80 or 260 soles. I only had about 260 soles total in my wallet and I couldn’t pay with a credit card. Since there’s no ATM in Ollanta, I rapidly left the line and hired a taxi driver to take me to the nearest ATM in nearby Urubamba. I gave him one of my chewy bars along the way. This roundtrip took about 40 minutes to complete, and I returned in time to buy a ticket for the 9.05. After paying 1 sol to take a crisp, mountain piss in a restaurant’s bathroom, I entered the waiting room at 8.00.

The train departed on time and wasn’t too crowded. I opened my window and snapped a few eager photos of the scenery afforded by the ride. When I arrived at Aguas Calientes, I felt as confused as everyone else looked regarding how one would get a bus to get up to MP, so I asked someone from the bus company. He pointed me in the right direction and I found my way to a bus that immediately began to ascend up a winding dirt road. I arrived at the entrance twenty minutes later, checked in my backpack, bought a student ticket, and passed through the gates by about 11.20. Luckily, the sun was shining.

I’m not sure what to say about my time around the ruins. Maybe whatever I would have to say could be best explained through my pictures. I felt pretty low on energy for all four of my hours at the site, though, for sure, especially because the chewy bars and sour gummy worms weren’t really filling me up too well. I talked to a few people. An Aussie tried to convince me that the structure was built, at least in part, through “levitation.” “Human levitation?” I asked. “Oh yeah,” he responded. A dude with a Stereolab t-shirt took a photo of me. I’d stand in on explanations provided by guides once in a while and ended up wishing I would I have studied up some more before trying to comprehend what I was seeing.

I left the site around 2.45 in the afternoon with dusty nostrils, having to catch a 3.30 train back to Cuzco from Aguas Calientes. I bought a Tropical Fruit Gatorade for the road. While on the train, the steward and stewardess served us brownies and beverages…And then put on a fashion show—all sweaters, scarves, and shawls being made from only the finest alpaca wool. They would take turns walking up and down the aisle and changing in the bathroom. The musical accompaniment included Kylie Minogue, Madonna, and The Bee Gees.

Arriving back at the albergue around 7.30 in the evening, I took a quick shower and then went out to dinner with Adam. I ordered an alpaca steak. As Adam keenly noted, alpaca thus makes for a both fine pullover and a fine piece of meant as well. After dinner, we made our way to one of Cuzco’s Irish pubs for a Guinness and then played the wall for a while at a disco. When we got back to the albergue, however, we were locked out and no one responded to our knockings and doorbell ringings. We realized that our only way in would be to scale the 12-foot walls next to the door, and that’s exactly what we did. Once in, a neighbor asked us what we were doing. We explained the situation, he easily understood, and then he told us to be careful with the dogs—they might bite us. Then, the door to my room was locked as well and we couldn’t find the keys. I was poised to sleep in one of the student’s beds (they were all back at their homes for the weekend) when Carlota’s daughter, Lucía, woke up and helped me get into my room.

Day 2—Friday, July 22—Cuzco→Ollantaytambo

2005-07-30T18:55:00.000-05:00

view near albergue
Originally uploaded by rswells.

I got up and ate some breakfast with Adam and the American volunteers around 9.00 and then spent most of the morning huffing and puffing around the city center. Cuzco’s an awfully charming place and reminded me quite a bit of Granada, what with it’s cathedrals, narrow streets, and surrounding mountains. The plan was to get up early early the next morning in order to take a train up to Machu Picchu. Carlota, however, told me that I didn’t have to go the “rich gringo” way, but that I could get there quicker and cheaper if I did it the local way; this meant taking a taxi from Cuzco to Ollantaytambo and then a train from Ollanta to Aguas Calientes (the base city, so to speak, for MP) that evening. I took her up on the idea and got myself a shotgun seat in a station wagon taxi headed towards Ollanta. I was facing a serious time crunch with respect to arriving in Ollanta in time to catch the last train, which led the driver to drive like a speedfreak amongst the countless curves through the mountainous highways. At one point, we picked up a middle-aged couple, squeezing four people into the back. I happened to make eye contact with one of the other two; his eyes told me, “Lucky bastard.” Within five minutes, the woman said, “You’re driving too fast, amigo,” so he slowed down for a few twists and turns, but then resumed his ways, which led the woman to let loose the lord’s name. When she and her man got out of the taxi, she said she had never been so scared.

After about an hour and a half of the deathdrive, we reached Ollanta. A great mass throbbed in front of the gates that led to the trains. Much like my taxi driver, I quickly darted my way through the slightly treacherous environment and safely made it to the ticket counter. When the man told me that the last train was full and that I’d have to wait until tomorrow to catch one, I almost let loose a tear. Slowly walking back up the cobblestone road to town with my head held low, I found a hotel for my night’s sleep and then a restaurant for my dinner. At the small spot with rather swpartan décor, I took a seat upstairs. Four Germans sat across the room and a youngish American couple at the table next to mine. The young Americans quickly made fun of the Germans without them realizing it. Once the Germans left, I vacillated on what to order: either pancakes in honor of Huacachina and Jon Snyder or pizza in order to continue a long-standing and much-storied personal tradition. In the end, I went for some chicken kabobs instead. Once the other Americans’ food arrived, the girl started slurping her soup. This then turned into some sort of joke between them, as they tried to outsplurp each other amidst other forms of lovey dovey that included bad jokes and mild slaps to the face. Meanwhile, I, tried to focus on my Cortázar short story and my food. Upon paying their check, the young man approached me, asking me where I was from. Various origins instantaneously flashed through my mind, but I decided to tell the truth: “I’m from Kansas.” The dude then apologized and justified their actions by explaining to me that they thought I was French.

Back at the hotel, the doorman asks me when I’ll be up the next morning fro breakfast. The conversation—translated by me—went more or less as follows:
-What time do you plan to eat breakfast tomorrow morning?
-6am.
-6am?
-6am. I’m going to Machu Picchu.
-Ok, but most of the other groups are going to eat around 7.30 or 8.00—Why don’t you join them?
-But then in wouldn’t get to see as much…You just don’t want to get up early, do you?
-How about if you go get your ticket first and then come back and eat breakfast?

My bathroom came with ventilation, but I kept it closed while I bathed myself that night, singing “Satellite of Love” in the shower.

Day 1—Wednesday/Thursday, July 20/21—To Cuzco

2005-07-30T18:42:00.000-05:00

the andes from the plane
Originally uploaded by rswells.

Since my flight was scheduled to leave on the morning of the 21st at 6.10am, I decided not to sleep at all on Wednesday night, the 30th. That evening I saw a friend’s band called La Ira de Díos in concert. They rocked pretty hard and I had a difficult time understanding their lyrics, save for when the frontman screamed about something being “en fuego.” Actually, La Ira opened up for this other band composed of grandpa rockers that covered groups like Iron Butterfly, Grand Funk Railroad, and The Kinks. The 60+year-old frontman—dressed in corduroys and a turtleneck sweater, topped off with a beautiful, silver bigote—wielded a commanding voice and is relatively well known here in Lima. He used to host radio and television programs, or something. After the show I went back to Tali’s house and watched tv until a taxi came to pick me up around 3.30. By this point in the night, my stomach was beginning to test me—I think because of some yuquitas that I had eaten earlier at the concert. Indeed, as soon as I got in line to check in at the airport, I got out of line to hustle to the bathroom. When I returned to the line, I moved the pink stuff from my check-in bag to my carry on—and in front of an attractive girl, no less. I moved forward a few steps when it hit again. This time proved to be more of a false alarm, though, and I eventually got myself checked in, paid the airport tax, and got myself to the proper gate. Once seated, I started to listen to my favorite airport record, The Velvet Underground s/t.

On the plane, I watched the sunrise over the Andes.

My friend, Adam, was at the airport to greet me when I arrived in Cuzco around 7.30. We taxied to his current lodgings/volunteer site at an albergue that houses and educates impoverished children from Cuzco’s mountain communities. Most of the kids speak Quechua but not so much Spanish. At the albergue, Adam works as the liaison between the local directo, Carlota, and the American volunteers that come in every other week to do some community building projects and play with the kids. Oddly enough, when I arrived there was a family of volunteers there from Ann Arbor. I talked to the oldest son about Big Ten Burrito and The Fleetwood Diner. Anyways, since I hadn’t slept a wink the night before, I slept that day from 9.30am to 6.00pm. When I woke up, Adam and I went to go get pizza for the group’s dinner. After the meal, the volunteers watched somebody’s pirated version of Seabiscuit. I couldn’t really get to sleep later that night, however, because my levels were so off. Plus, the pills I was taking to combat the probable onslaught of altitude sickness made me temporarily loose feeling in my digits and lips.

El gran corso de WONG + Música

2005-07-18T14:00:00.000-05:00

confetti
Originally uploaded by rswells.

I went to the big national parade yesterday here in Lima with a few friends. We saw thousands of limeños pushing each other and witnessed a few insults thrown back and forth between two full-grown women, but didn’t see much of the parade itself. For me, the highlight was this state employee, dressed to deal with toxic materials. The crowded avenue quickly overwhelmed us, however, so we went into a café where I drank a ginger ale and ate some strawberries with cream. The spectacle concluded the afternoon with some nice fireworks viewed between buildings and accompanied by “Darth Vader’s Theme” and Beethoven’s “Symphonty No. 5—Allegro con brio.”

On Saturday, Tali took me to an arcade of sorts: music, DVDs, not-so-clever t-shirts, and paraphernalia sold out of little, entrepreneurial shops. About every fifth shop or so specialized in “todo lo que es…la estética de heavy metal.” Almost all of the music and movies were burned—part of the piratería phenomenon that runs rampant here—and all of the shops with música indie continued to manifest this country’s obsession with early 80s Britpop, especially The Smiths. The last place we checked out made me feel like I was being confronted by Pitchforkmedia Perú. The dude’s walls agreed with everything current that the website touts (and, admittedly, I tend to tout from time to time as well): Four Tet, Of Montreal, Iron and Wine, M83, The Futureheads, LCD Soundsystem, Antony and the Johnsons, The Boy Least Likely To, The Arcade Fire, Belle & Sebastian (+ singles from DEAR CATASTROPHE WAITRESS), Interpol (+ numerous live European bootlegs, even though anyone who’s seen Interpol live knows that the difference in sound between studio and live show is slim to none, but that the light show is blinding, and not necessarily in a good way [of course, had I not seen Interpol in Detroit a few months ago, I pry would have purchased one of the burned live European bootlegs myself]), Sleater-Kinney, Neutral Milk Hotel, The Fiery Furnaces, Cat Power, Beulah. Dude even had Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, for crying out loud.

The current Lima mixtape—gleaned from taxi rides, bus rides, restaurants, discos, and bars—includes the following:
-“Love Will Tear Us Apart” Joy Division
-“Boys and Girls” Blur
-“What if God Was One of Us?” Joan Osborne
-“Gasolina” Daddy Yankee
-“Careless Whisper (I’m Never Gonna Dance Again—These Two Feet Ain’t Got No Rhythm)” George Michael
-“¿Marica quién?”

Tomorrow, Tali and I will do a little rusticating when we bus out to a few towns that linger in the Lima countryside like Canta and Obrajillo. Thursday, I leave for Cuzco for 10 days; while there, I’ll be staying with an old college friend from KU, Adam Huggins—or am I still to young to characterize it like that? On August 2nd, I return to Prairie Village, Kansas.

photos

2005-07-14T16:57:00.000-05:00

a nearby park
Originally uploaded by rswells.

I have recently added some more photos to my lot in flickr: a couple from the neighborhood, a bunch from the poorly lit and slightly creepy museo de la nación, and one of sweet, little elsa helping tali dye her hair.

wednesday

2005-07-13T14:04:00.000-05:00

not too much to report from lima. no new photos. the weather still stays the same, yet i may have found a park. today, i'm back to being healthy, but now tali is bed-ridden after staving off a fever yesterday and then suffering through a tooth removal today; thus, she ascends the throne built under blankets to rightfully claim the recently abdicated crown of the pathetic one.

i booked a flight for cuzco yesterday. as of now, the trip will include at least some of the following: machu picchu; a pint of guinness at an irish pub; another big soccer match; white water rafting; an excursion to lake titicaca--the highest lake in the world; altitude sickness; celebrating peru's independence day on the 28th. i'll be staying in cuzco with an american friend of mine who works at an orphanage of sorts there. should be fantastic.

in the meantime, here are a couple of interesting and alarming pieces from antiwar.com regarding 1) "the smash of civilizations in iraq" and the destruction of the "cradle of civilization" and its artifacts and 2) what troop withdrawal might really mean.

with little on the upcoming agenda, i might go see BATMAN BEGINS tonight for the third time. this time, however, i'll keep a keener eye on how the film relates itself and its audience to terrorism, i.e. how master bruce receives his training in the orient at what is ostensibly a terrorist training camp, how these shadowy men plan to once again destroy one of the hallmarks of western civilization, gotham, because of its decadence (not, apparently, because of gotham's meddling, haughty foreign policy), how these men attack in the name of morality but a select few of us really know what is moral, just, and rational, how "justice" in the form of a masked, wealthy man seemingly alters history's natural course by saving his corrupt empire via science and speed, etc.

me duele la barriga

2005-07-09T21:02:00.000-05:00

pankreoflat
Originally uploaded by rswells.

originally, i thought i'd be going to the circus tonight. you know, the greatest show on earth. turns out, though, that spanish streams got crossed and i wouldn't have seen elephants and lions and acrobats anyways, but rather a magician at the back of a discotheque. no matter: i'm stuck here at the apartment with a case of the stomachs (anyone who knows me well, knows mine's a "sensitive" one), listening to mostly quiet songs on low volume, medicating myself with pankreoflat, amusing myself with posts like this.

Epiblogue

2005-07-06T12:18:00.000-05:00

on the way back to the bus
Originally uploaded by rswells.

What follows documents the past six days of my life in el Perú on excursion. Like Butterfly from Digable Planets, I too covered mad area in my les soul Clarks. Five buses in five days included. If there were two things the trip lacked, they would be toilet paper and soap in the public bathrooms. I took almost 300 photos in all and will be uploading many of them in the days to come. They can be viewed by clicking here.

Like any other sentient being, I tried to take in and gauge my surroundings everywhere I went. What I was often left with, however, was a furrowed brow and the single sentiment: “Where the fuck am I?”

Day 6—Tuesday, July 5th—Huacachina/Ica→Lima

2005-07-05T23:35:00.000-05:00

on the way back to lima
Originally uploaded by rswells.

I woke up a little hungover this morning with no water for an anodyne because I ended up the previous night with bills only worth 100 soles in my wallet, bills which, paradoxically, are usually worth nothing because no one has enough change to accept them. After a breakfast “Americano” style—scrambled eggs, bread, butter, jelly, juice, and coffee or tea—Tali and I took a taxi from Huacachina to Ica for the final time in order to take a bus back to Lima; the strike was over. The slow busride included SPIDERMAN 2 (a film which I’ve now seen a total of three times, all in Spanish-speaking countries) and DUPLEX.

Day 5—Monday, July 4th—Ica/Huacachina

2005-07-05T23:34:00.000-05:00

training for next season
Originally uploaded by rswells.

As I wrote in a brief post that day, Tali and I ended up somewhat stranded in Huacachina for the whole day and night because farmers and peasants had blocked the highway passage back to Lima. Their beef was squarely with a/the free trade agreement with the United States. Our captivity turned out to be a pleasant and pensive one, though, for we spent most of the afternoon and evening up on a dune overlooking the town and the surrounding desert. We also ended up with a better room at the hostel. Plus, Huacachina breaks down more or less like this: bikins by the pool during the day, north faces by the bar at night.

Later on we attended a barbecue at one of the other local hostals, but we didn’t eat anything from the official bbq tent—we just drank, Cuba Libres for Tali and cerveza for Beto. Tali did eventually get a little hungry, so we went inside the place to the restaurant for a chicken sandwich. At this point, all hell broke loose downstairs as a nasty fight broke out between many of the local workers in the hostel’s lobby. Most of them had been drinking since noon in celebration of the boss’ birthday. Things got ugly fast. I couldn’t see what was going on too well from my high vantage point, nor did I dare take any photos, but I could’ve sworn I saw one poor, drunken soul get an uppercut—POW! Right in the kisser! When we cautiously came back downstairs, things were still heated and strong words bellowed from a few men; the tourists, meanwhile, were all nothing’s going on around the bar. I somewhat achieved my goal to talk to new people that night, striking up a conversation with a Peruvian young man from Pisco who loves Usher and DMX and asked me question after question about the US and a rugged Norwegian whose eyes were so lazy I thought he was blind—I didn’t talk to the latter for too long, however, because he threw off my balance. And though my eyes struggled mightily to discern whether or not a pair of Australian birds were indeed attractive or not, I spoke not a word to them.

For the second 4th of July in a row, I saw no fireworks; last summer I saw hail in Oaxaca, México.

Day 4—Sunday, July 3rd—Nazca and Huacachina

2005-07-05T23:15:00.000-05:00

the astronaut
Originally uploaded by rswells.

Since we didn’t have any official tour set up to fly across the mysterious Nazca Lines, Tali and I took a taxi to Ica in order to take a 3-hour bus south to Nazca. The movie for this bus ride: TERMINATOR 3: RISE OF THE MACHINES. To our extreme surprise, Claire Danes was one of the stars—Was anyone else aware of this? After the flick and the mini-invasion of a few flies into our immediate surroundings, some VH1 CLASSICS came on next. The videos included one by Rod Stewart and a back-to-back showing of the same song, Twisted Sister’s “We’re Not Gonna Take It!” (I think the second one contained an alternate beginning.)

The whole reason any tourist gets down to Nazca is to fly over these lines to which I’ve been referring. The game sets up with about a dozen companies that all offer 35-minute flights over said lines and attracted people from all over the world, few of which seemed to speak any Spanish whatsoever. We arrive around 11.00am, booked a flight for 2.00pm and walked down the road to get an early lunch. A youngish American couple from New Hampshire sat at the table across from us. We chatted for a little while about our respective adventures in Perú up until that point. They were on their “real” honeymoon after taking a cruise with family and friends a few months earlier: an intense, 5.30am wakeup, 10-day action-packed trek of a honeymoon, that is. They had just watched Gus Van Sant’s fictional take on the Columbine shootings, ELEPHANT, on their bus ride. Like them, and surely anyone else who has seen this slow slow chill of a movie, I had no idea why this film would be shown to an unsuspecting audience in such a way. When I said we’d watched T3, the guy responded with, “Oh, man! That’s awesome!” (Neither of them knew that Claire Danes played the female lead either, nor had they seen BATMAN BEGINS yet—no time for movies for them.) You could kinda tell that the guy was itching to talk to another guy because he was really digging my travel jokes and anecdotes, especially my description of Huacachina as being fit for the x games crowd and the story of how I almost shit myself trying to run up one of the dunes. Plus, his new wife was the one with the guidebook—if you know what I mean.

Our flight scheduled for 2.00 didn’t end up taking off until 4.30. Before we took off, Tali was so nervous she was shaking and tried to compose herself with some Lamaze type breathing techniques. It didn’t help that the plane that took off before ours didn’t really take off per se on its first try. Nor did it help that once airborne the pilot kept taking his hands off the controls and turning around to face us passengers in order to explain what figure was coming up next. He banked steeply and frequently so that both sides could get a good look at whatever lay below. For me, the most impressive figure was the ASTRONAUT, with the MONKEY, and the HUMMINGBIRD coming in with the silver and the bronze. As we approached a figure, the pilot would be all like, “Okay, it’s right there to the right! There it is! Can you see it? It’s right there. Look under the wing.” And, of course, I couldn’t see shit for the first few seconds, but then these lines came together to form shapes which subsequently came together to form recognizable figures. Once we landed, Tali admitted to me that the lines were more impressive to her than Machu Picchu.

Our evening bus back to Ica was packed to the point where the standing passengers lined the entire aisle and included a Steven Seagal movie whose title translates to BLOODY FACE 4. Back in Huacachina for another night, we ended this one with pancakes filled with dulce de leche for dinner.

Day 3—Saturday, July 2nd—Ica/Huacachina

2005-07-05T23:02:00.000-05:00

huacachina
Originally uploaded by rswells.

I wrote about part of this day in a previous post and it proved to be the most low-key day of all. Tali and I did peep THE WAR OF THE WORLDS that afternoon, though; I liked it all right…right up until (SPOILER ALERT!!!) the very very end which I found to be straight trite and appallingly bourgeois. As the war played itself out and the entire theater seemed to talk and talk in not so hushed tones*, I ate and drank my “Combo Juvenil”: a medium pop (known in Perú as a “gaseosa”) whose lid served as the base for my popcorn box, which meant that the extra-long straw came all the way up through the popcorn.

Once back in Huacachina, I got ancy and attempted to scale one of the many surrounding sand dunes—I nearly shit myself because my stomach was so full of popcorn and coke. Tali was nice enough to fetch me some water and meet me back at the hostal once I took some deep breaths and burped and farted my way back down the dune, just like Charlie and Grandpa Joe had to when they drank too much soda and floated up too close to Mr. Wonka's menacing ceiling fan. We took it easy the rest of the night because we were getting up at 6.30 again the next morning with the lines of Nazca as the day’s destination to be.

*This tendency to disobey the “Silence is Golden” rule does not apply to all movie theaters here in Peru, but may indeed be an avatar of the Iqueños. Unfortunately, we were not able to test this hypothesis because the only other movies showing were BATMAN BEGINS (I’ve already seen it twice), yet another Denzel as a cop project, and THE PACIFIER starring Vin Diesel in a role once played by Hulk Hogan. No wonder ticket sales are down.

Day 2—Friday, July 1st—Islas Ballestas/Reserva Nacional de Paracas→Ica/Huacachina

2005-07-05T22:10:00.000-05:00

sea lions or lobos marinos
Originally uploaded by rswells.

A 6.30am wakeup call started this cold, long, beautiful day. The day before, we signed up for a tour that would take us by boat to las Islas Ballestas and then by bus to la Reserva Nacional de Paracas. After being picked up at El Cesar around 7.30, we were bused down to our point of embarkation on the coast. We groggily boarded the small boat that took us out to the big one, named Pedro Pablo, that would cruise us around the islands. Besides the cold, biting sea breezes, gray sky, and low visibility, things didn’t look so promising when the driver of the small boat spilled gasoline on me.* Nevertheless, once we finally got our first glimpse of land again from the port side of the Pedro Pablo and the sugary coffee came around, I was awed for the rest of the ride. We came across billions of birds, a few penguins, scores of sea lions, and a shitload of guano. We never got off the boat. I took lots of photos. Our first guide, Yuri, tried his best to explain everything to the international group in both English and Spanish, but wasn’t always on point. One thing he said that did stick with me, though, was how a layer of guano measuring 6-7 meters in height once covered the islands—before someone realized the substance’s fertile possibilities.

After we got back to the buoy and onto hard land, our next guide bused with us to la Reserva Nacional de Paracas: a wildlife reserve without much wildlife, but plenty of desert and wondrous views of the Pacific. I guess I had really never been to the desert before; I felt like I had stumbled across another planet (these feelings initially crept up on me in the morning around the islands and surged back from time to time during the rest of the trip). The tour ended at this tiny, uncapitalized fishing village on the shores of a small bay that looked something like this. It looked like what I imagine the White Cliffs of Dover would look like, if they were exoticized and weren’t white. It was the kind of spot that would entice real estaters like the Donald to give up an organ—or, in Donald’s case, shave his head—just to build a modest hotel. Unfortunately, my camera ran out of batteries at this point in the day, but maybe it’s better that way—I almost feel like the less people see the spot, the less the likelihood for development. Tali and I ate a 4 o’clock seafood lunch on the rocks near the bay, near men fishing for their own meals. Our guide came over to Tali and me and pointed out one fisherman in particular, saying, “Hey look, Ernest Hemingway, Ernest Hemingway! The old man and the sea!” The old man turned around and gave a polite wave. He turned around again once he caught a respectable fish to display to us. Our guide went on to inform us that Hemingway himself had once fished off the Peruvian coast…and that Peruvian blood apparently flowed through Nat King Cole’s veins as well.

We got back to Pisco around 5.00, packed our things, booked it out of El Cesar promising to never return again, and rushed to catch the next bus to Ica. The islands and the wildlife reserve had been a real treat, for sure, but the town of Pisco brought on this foul taste to our mouths. Our bus’s windshield had a huge crack in it. We stopped at one point so that the busdriver could pass along some dinner to the highway patrol. My LONELY PLANET guidebook told us on numerous occasions that Ica was a crummy place to stay and that the oasis laguna of Huacachina—only a few kilometers away—was a much safer and enjoyable stop, so we got off the bus and took a taxi out of one town and into another.

The first two hostals we checked out based on LP’s recs were all booked up. Luckily, we found some beds down the town’s short and only road. As I said in a previous post, Israelis had stormed in to the point where menus were written in English, Spanish, and Hebrew.

Tali saw the stars for the first time in a long time that night. Because of my limited knowledge regarding astronomy—all dilettantish enthusiasm aside—I couldn’t figure out whether everything was upside down or not.

*I also should have worn socks.

Day1—Thursday, June 30th—Pisco

2005-07-05T21:01:00.000-05:00

el cesar
Originally uploaded by rswells.

I described the initial part of this day in a previous post. Pisco didn’t offer too much besides a bad night’s sleep at our hostal, El Cesar, a private tech school named “Bill Gates,” a surprisingly photogenic cemetery, and a seafood dinner that didn’t sit so well in my stomach. In the afternoon, we started what turned out to be a wild goose chase with the post office being the object pursued.* We asked about six people for its whereabouts and they all gave us different answers. One man contended that the post office no longer existed. We eventually found it and I went up to the counter to ask the lady for some stamps that I could put on some postcards that I wanted to send to the states. I asked for 20. The price? 93 soles.**

After dinner, the energies took on some relaxing tones as Tali and I sat around the Plaza de Armas, just chatting and watching the people watch the people come and go. A young boy around age 8 soon came upon us armed with a basket of small candies and intent to sell. We tried to shrug him off, but he started talking to us, asking us where we where from, how it could be that Tali is from Peru***, why we didn’t want to buy his candies, why I didn’t want to buy a little chocolate for my lady friend. The kid wouldn’t stop, so I suggested that he go play with the other children over there. He said he couldn’t because he was working. He kept repeating the same phrase over and over, “Cómprame, p.” We were intent on not buying, just as he was intent on selling. Finally, Tali and I got up from our spot and left the plaza. As we walked away, the boy said, “I hope someone robs you!”

On a side note, my father turned 50 on this day back in Kansas City.

*The same phenomenon took a hold of us in Ica a few days later.
**Roughly $30****
***Indeed, this child was one of the seemingly innumerable Peruvians who put on looks of sheer incredulity when Tali said that she was from Lima.
****Roughly equal to the cost of a one-way bus ticket from Lima to Cuzco, with the ride lasting at least 24 hours.

delay

2005-07-04T12:50:00.000-05:00

today, farmers, fieldworkers, miners, and some other peruvian workers are on a one-day strike because of an unfair agreement regarding free trade with the united states. they have successfully blocked the one highway that connects our current location, ica, with lima; hence we are stuck here for the time being. happy 4th of july, usa--yea, capitalism.

currently

2005-07-02T14:47:00.000-05:00

i type to you all from an internet spot in the city of ica. 50 cent pumps out the boombox. the desert´s tall, other-planet-like dunes mark ica´s perimeter. tali and i are actually staying in a small laguna/oasis/mini mtv spring break locale nearby called huacachina. all of the hotels and hostals in the entire pueblo are booked up with kids from all over the world--in truth, mostly from israel, and i have been asked on three separate occasions if i too am from there. they all seem to be looking for some x games travel, replete with sandboarding and dune buggies, i.e. the type that tali and i don´t really get down to. power sandals, dreds, fleeces. some dude from france asked me if i knew where he could score some weed last night at the local bar. i sad no, but we struck up a short conversation. he realized that i wasn´t fom israel and told me he liked my american accent, that it was easy to understand. i said it´s because i´m from kansas, and he replied--yeah, i´ve heard a lot of good things about kansas and colorado, i want to go there. i told him that there really wasn´t much too see in kansas west of state line, unless you enjoy 10 hours of tiny towns and wheat fields with 5 o´clock shadows. he said that that was fine, maybe he could ride through the state on a motorcycle.

today, tali and i got up late and took a taxi around to a few bodegas to check out how the local hard alcohol, pisco, is made. after two separate spots and upwards of six or seven free samples, we left a little tipsy and better informed. our kind taxista threw back two himself. one of the bodegas included this grab bag kind of an antique collection that included the following: pisco, paintings of simon bolivar, a replica of a dali painting, tiny human bones, ancient incan flip flops, and a vitrola.

i´ve got more to give and plenty of pictures to show from this current excursion. indeed, a big post awaits once i get back to lima and organize my notes. yesterday, for example, i saw penguins and the desert in the same day around the ballesta islands and a national wildlife reserve. i also saw more birds over the course of a few hours than i had seen in all of my life up until then.

el museo larco and upcoming excursion

2005-06-28T21:45:00.000-05:00

"O make me a mask"
Originally uploaded by rswells.

this afternoon, tali and i went to el museo larco. it was all ancient ceramics and a temporary exhibit on ancient gold and jewelry. the museum's main attraction, however, has to be the two rooms of x-rated pottery that it houses. buenos días!

come thursday morning tali and i will be leaving the lima gray behind for the wildlife reserves at las islas ballestas and paracas, where i hope to see penguins, sea lions, and flamingos. from there, we'll go to the desert cities of huacachina and nazca. nazca is famous for these mysterious lines that were drawn in the desert centuries ago. the polemic regarding where these lines came from and who constructed them still continues today. in order to fully capture the figures that the lines come together to create, you're supposed to fly over them in a mini-plane.

0-0

2005-06-26T15:58:00.000-05:00

ticket to soccer game
Originally uploaded by rswells.

I went to the big soccer game yesterday with my friend Pilar’s older brother, Mario, and his 10 year-old nephew, Marcelo. We took a small taxi. On the way, our driver made up his mind that he wanted to go too. After all, the crosstown rivals were playing: Alianza Lima vs. Universitario. I saw a different part of Lima and 30,000 or so different faces in and around the dusty stadium, Alianza’s home turf known as el Matute. We arrived a little late to the game, so we bought our tickets from a scalper who was wearing a Ramones jean jacket. After maneuvering our way through scalpers, hawkers, and dirty, friendly dogs, we verified that the tickets weren’t fakes and pushed on to the gates. Before entering the stadium, we were all padded down by some serious police. Mario, Marcelo, and el taxista got through quick enough, but the cop who was inspecting me held me up, asking me what I had in my left pocket. I pulled out my cherry-flavored chapstick and a cheap, plastic pen. The cop looked me dead in the eye, threw my pen aside, and told me to move along.

Once inside, tall, barbed-wire fences separated the spectators from the field. Since we got there a little late, we had to sit in one of the corners. Mario and Marcelo had wanted to sit in one of the ends—they’re both fans of Universitario—where all of the local hooligans jump against each other and sing songs mocking the other team, calling each other faggots and chickens respectively. Police in full riot gear stood at slacked attention not five feet away from us. Torn up pieces of the yellow pages were scattered all about and, as I soon learned, were wadded up and used as harmless but meaningful projectiles. Along with wrappers and empty cups, the spectators threw these projectiles mostly when Universatario's team and the refs came on and off the field. The police shielded them from the paper rain with their riot shields.

The game itself was rather slow. Not much action or impressive skill. Not many shots on goal. 0-0. Even though Peru as a whole is huge on soccer, its national team hasn’t qualified for the World Cup in something like twenty-five years. The fans didn’t let this deter them from having their fun, though. The two big highlights, however, didn’t even really have anything to do with the game. 1) At halftime, a comely young woman—the only blonde that I saw in the entire stadium—came out with one of those t-shirt shooter guns and shot a few into the crowd. 2) Late in the second half, the referee came up limp and had to stop the game for a few minutes. In both instances, the crowd went nuts: desire in the first instance and ridicule in the second.

In other sports news, it saddened both Tali and me to see the Pistons lose last Thursday. Besides the end of the season, the fact that I’ll probably never hear those Peruvian announcers, Vizcarra and Porras, announce a game ever again got me a little down. When they weren’t too busy giving shot outs—saludos—to family members, friends, and emailers, blowing through random noisemakers and kazoos, and dissecting the dance team’s moves, they talked about the game. Here are a few examples of their commentary, some of which were translated into English by me:

-“El boxout de Ben Wallace fue extraordinario.”—Porras
-“Here comes the Frenchman, Tony Parker—ooh la la.”—Vizcarra
-When “Hey Ya” came over the stadium speakers, Vizcarra asked, “Who sings this song? The Black Eyed Peas?”
-“Well, it doesn’t look like Rasheed Wallace is saying ‘Feliz Navidad’ to the referee there.”—Porras “Nor ‘Feliz cumpleaños.’”—Vizcarra
-At one point in the final game, Vizcarra told a joke about Mexicans that lasted at least three minutes.

beto chávez

2005-06-23T17:53:00.000-05:00

beto lleva un suéter eroto-exótico
Originally uploaded by rswells.

hola a todos. me gustaría presentarles a un amigo mío, se llama beto chávez. qué ha hecho beto chávez hoy? primero, desayunó. luego, él y su amiga peruana, tali dajes, salieron de la casa de tali para dar una vuelta y ver el mar pacífico. mientras estaban allá, beto sacó varias fotos del mar gris. a beto le gusta sacar fotos con su cámara futurística. después, almorzaron en la casa del papá de tali--más tarde, beto me comentaría que la comida estuvo buenaza. finalmente, beto y tali decidieron ir de compas. beto se probó un suéter eroto-exótico, pero no lo compró.

esta noche, beto chávez y tali dajes van a ver el último partido de los playoffs del nba. beto me dijo, "ojalá que ganen los detroit pistons! uf! y espero que no me coma las uñas enteras durante el partido! seguro que la tensión me va a matar! pucha! gracias a dios que tendré mi aguardiente a mi lado para chupar cuando las cosas se pongan muy dramáticas." y, a pesar de que ella no es muy fanática del basket, tali quiere que los pistons ganen también.

y después de todo esto? van a bailar en una discoteca. beto me dijo, "ojalá que baile con chicas guapas y que escuche mi canción favorita!"

transplanting

2005-06-20T23:06:00.000-05:00

beto busca breakbeats
Originally uploaded by rswells.

last night, mildly upset because the local sports channel was not showing the pistons/spurs game as it had days before, i kept up with the scores online...until the game came on said channel--a tape delay--as the third quarter came to an end on the computer. score 64-63. at that point, i fixed my focus on the tv in tali's room, coaxed her into watching with me by trying to explain the importance of the pistons to any real michigander, and mentioned that some popcorn and pop sure would be sweet. quickly, tali picked up the phone and called a local grocery, ordering some snacks for the game. an amazing game which put us both on edge until rasheed left big shot bob free to do his thing yet again. (if you ask me, horry belongs in the hall of fame after all of this.)

today, i went downtown with one of tali's friends, pilar, on a music and book search. we took a crowded microbus to the spot and on the way came across a huge sign for "kansas blue jeans." apparently, it's a brand that's been around for a while. something i'll look into later. after twenty minutes or so on the micro, we arrived at a book bazaar of sorts. i found a slightly stained, harcover version of a collection of borges stories for 8 soles (about $2.50). from there, we stumbled upon a small scale vinly bazaar of sorts. as i started flipping through, latin lab type shit came over the speakers. "where am i?" i thought to myself. "am i really hearing latin reggae, latin salsa, latin funk? just like i would at the nuyeurcan spanish harlem that is the 8th st. taptoom? is that wide-smiled and shirtless young man across the way really who i think it is?" after subtly nodding my head, the sellers asked me what i was looking for. unsure of how to sincerely express "groove" in spanish, i said something like "jazz funk funky," giving the "j" in "jazz" a soft "j"/"y" sort of sound and making my "u"'s long. willy then escorted me to his stand in the back, asked me if i wanted some "soul...tipo lou rawls?" and i said "sí�� sí��!" i figured i had struck gold, like some old conquistador. after such a work up, however, the actual collection was not as mind blowing as i had anticipated. plenty of elton john, the carpenters, and the village people. at one point, willy held up a "tierra, viento, y fuego" (earth, wind, and fire) record to me: "no gracias," i responded. i still found a way to purchase 18 dusty lps for about $15.

i followed all this with pizza for lunch at 5pm.

right now an old, subtitled episode of LOST is on the television.

happy father's day, dad!

2005-06-19T17:09:00.000-05:00

dad
Originally uploaded by rswells.

i'd try and come up with some clever catchphrase to go along with the photo, but i think the image speaks for itself--with love.

DoppelgangerS

2005-06-18T18:19:00.000-05:00

within the past three weeks i seem to have seen myself in two separate films: LAYER CAKE and BATMAN BEGINS. i had some trouble following both films, and the appearance of two different doubles obviously exacerbated this trouble. nevertheless, i would highly recommend both, especially BATMAN which made me feel 12 yrs old again.

for anyone else who has seen these movies, let me know if you have seen me as well. in LAYER CAKE, i play a small, speaking role as a birtish gangster with a heavy accent that is involved in the drug trade. in BATMAN BEGINS, i don't speak at all, but show up briefly in dr. crane's insane asylum. look for the following characteristics: the big head--complete with a long forehead--atop a small body, shitty beard, decent teeth. i would post photos of these young men, but that might complicate my singular exixtence beyond repair.

lovely lima

2005-06-16T18:49:00.000-05:00

view from apt
Originally uploaded by rswells.

i arrived around 1am wednesday morning. not much to say about the flight, save how american tourists--already donning their hiking boots and phrasebooks--flooded the plane. i think most of them were headed towards machu picchu. a mother also walked her daughter to the lavatory using one of those child leashes.

after getting settled here in lima, i've recently made some initial rounds with my hostess, tali, and the social calendar is already set up for the next few nights with parties and rock bands. yesterday, the sun shone, but today the smog overwhelms. if you look out from my window, the pervasive gray makes it seem as if the world stops after a certain distance. i think i'll have to head for the countryside within the next week. upcoming posts should include the following: a description of the neighborhood; a mini-thesis on taxi drivers and security guards; and an eye-witness account of the nearby hotel that lodges 2 dolphins and the barside show that they perform.

kansas in the early summer--ready the ark!

2005-06-13T00:28:00.000-05:00

tornado_nguyen_big
Originally uploaded by rswells.

supposedly, this is a real photo taken by this storm-chaser who has the following to say about his adventures:

I often times remain in the hail core to observe the maximum size, measure it, and report it. I usually report hail over golf ball size, tornadoes, etc, and provide a picture to the NWS [National Weather Service] office that evening for their verification. That includes severe wind events which I measure and log using an anemometer mounted at 3 meters above the surface.

and, yes, i did just make a post about the weather. can those who live anywhere near me really blame me, though? we seem to be under some sort of warning or watch every single day. soon, however, i'll be in lima, peru--the place where it's always partly cloudy and about 65.

why "anything but bush" did not work, perhaps

2005-06-09T13:38:00.000-05:00

a short, interesting interview here about why voters who oppose the war in iraq might want to consider changing their tactics for the upcoming elections in 2006 and 2008. in other words, why voting for the other pro-war candidate, john kerry, because he wasn't george w. bush and because he was a member of the other "viable" democratic party did not further the anti-war movement.

sports bar

2005-06-08T14:32:00.000-05:00

Originally uploaded by rswells.

rob and ab. anxious and exciting. a moment on display during the decisive game 7 battle twixt the detroit pistons and the miami heat. the pistons won 88-82.

the path of genius

2005-06-08T14:26:00.000-05:00

Originally uploaded by rswells.

by wenzel hablik (1918)

my verdict is in:

2005-06-04T13:12:00.000-05:00

Santa
Originally uploaded by rswells.

GUILTY!

come on in

2005-06-04T13:06:00.001-05:00

jumpshot
Originally uploaded by rswells.

when my friend, jumpshot adams, enters a room,

old friend

2005-06-04T13:06:00.000-05:00

jumpshot dos
Originally uploaded by rswells.

he makes his presence felt immediately.

my bedroom in pv

2005-06-04T12:55:00.000-05:00

my room in pv
Originally uploaded by rswells.

i've got some digital photos going now. dig.

these days

2005-05-31T22:30:00.000-05:00

last night was a tv treat deluxe: suns vs. spurs on channel 12 and the miss universe pageant on channel 13. i was rooting for miss peru...until she tripped over her summer shawl during the bathing suit portion of the competition. i just knew that such a faux pas would not be tolerated by the celebrity judges. of course, who hosted the main event? none other than this asshole, billy bush--aka the cousin of george w. bush. curious how that family leaves its mark on so many constructed competitions. with the adventures of the current administration in mind, i'd highly recommend the film, THE BATTLE OF ALGIERS, to anyone interested in seeing a realistic interpretation of a "third-world," islamic country's struggle for independence against a western colonial power. depicting the "bloodiest revolution in modern history," the movie watches like a relatively objective documentary as it contrasts claustrophobic scenes of urban guerilla warfare in which insurgents slaughter innocent civilians with vivid images of torture at the hands of the imperialists. the film itself has had its own intriguing history over the years as well, being studied here in the us by both sides, so to speak.

it seems to me that f. scott fitzgerald's description of the us after the end of wwi--taken from the CRACK-UP essays--as being "cynical rather than revolutionary" also befits part of our populace today after 9/11, the start and continuation of the 2nd war in iraq, and bush's re-election. nevertheless, i know that i personally engage in too many worthwhile conversations with my peers regarding the current state of the union to not realize that certain latent forces lie within us, waiting to be liberated. those of us still residing anywhere near the "reality-based community" must, first of all, conjugate these forces into a new, critical language that illuminates rather than obfuscates.

of montreal and the nba playoffs, pt. dos

2005-05-26T13:18:00.000-05:00

it's official: i don't have mono. huzzah! of course, i wasn't all that kind to my body over the weekend up in lawrence, engaging in various college endeavors. i did see of montreal again, though. a real treat. more dancing this time by all involved too. after the show, i talked to a couple of the guys in the band--frontman kevin barnes and the lead guitarist, not sure of his name--about the nba playoffs. they hadn't seen some of the recent games due to the demands of touring, which led me to try and explain steve nash's brilliance to them via smooth, swooping hand gestures, and big, drunk eyes. i guess barnes used to live in detroit, so he's a big pistons fan. i told him about how i think chauncey billups has the sweetest mustache in the nba; barnes nodded in approval.

status

2005-05-19T16:00:00.000-05:00

i quickly found myself driving 45 in a 30 yesterday after leaving the doctor's office where i was tested for mono; perhaps the excess surged in response to the possibility of having a disease founded on lethargy. i'm still waiting to hear the results. since returning from michigan, i have visited my regular doctor twice, the dentist, the allergist, and the travel and immunization clinic. because i'm going to peru, the lady at the travel and immunization clinic prescribed some precautionary pills for malaria: side effects include vivid dreams and/or nightmares.

last night i started reading THE WAVES by virginia woolf. seventy pages into it, i must say that it is one of the most beautiful pieces of prose that i have ever come across. i figure someday i'll read it aloud to a young woman as a means of seduction. maybe i'll even play this song in the background as i whisper,

'all my ships are white,' said rhoda. 'i do not want red petals of hollycocks or geranium. i want white petals that float when i tip the basin up. i have a fleet now swimming from shore to shore. i will drop a twig in as a raft for a floating sailor. i will drop a stone in and see bubbles rise from the depths of the sea. neville has gone and susan has gone; jinny is in the kitchen garden picking currants with louis perhaps. i have a short time alone, while miss hudson spreads our copy-books on the schoolroom table. i have a short space of freedom. i have picked all the fallen petals and made them swim. i have put raindrops in some. i will plant a lighthouse here, a head of sweet alice. and i will now rock the brown basin from side to side so that my ships may ride the waves. some will founder. some will dash themselves up against the cliffs. one sails alone. that is my ship. it sails into icy caverns where the sea-bear barks and stalactites swing green chains. the waves rise; their crests curl; look at the lights on the mastheads. they have scattered, they have foundered, all except my ship which mounts the wave and sweeps the before the gale and reaches the islands where the parrots chatter and the creepers...' (18-19)

two high school girls sunbathe in their backyard next door. i noticed them earlier and told curtis about the scene. he quickly changed outfits and took to the trampoline in our backyard, performing flips and twists, yelling at mom informing her that he can now jump high enough for his head to hit the big tree's bottom branch. "curtis, don't be a voyeur!" i warned him. nonplussed, he responded, "what? don't be a lawyer?"

soccer movies

2005-05-14T21:52:00.000-05:00

i just saw the new will ferrell movie KICKING AND SCREAMING with my mother and curtis. i thought it was a bad bad movie. don't let the previews or your soccer enthusiast friends fool you. ladybugs starring rodney dangerfield, jackée, and jonathan brandis was far superior. i am for real--as real as the mild case of pink eye that i possibly developed today.

new spoon lp

2005-05-12T12:24:00.000-05:00

i just picked up GIMME FICTION, spoon's newest release. it sounds all right. anyways, i made a vow that the song "i summon you" (heard here in demo form--you must click on the "bonus" section first, though) will constitute a large part of the soundtrack to my summer, thus securing a solid spot on any mix i create as well.

a champagne supernova in the sky

2005-05-09T22:08:00.000-05:00

nasa satellite captures birth of black hole. to quote a report from nasa's official website: "Scientists have detected a flash of light from across the Galaxy so powerful that it bounced off the Moon and lit up the Earth's upper atmosphere. The flash was brighter than anything ever detected from beyond our Solar System and lasted over a tenth of a second." an animated, artistic conception of the event can be seen here. big whoa

back in kc

2005-05-09T16:34:00.000-05:00

after finishing a paper, spending a night in chicago, and driving across missouri with my lovely mother, i returned home to prairie village on saturday evening--my dad had some minsky's pizza waiting. along the way, though, i ate sushi at a byob restaurant in chi, saw a dude drinking a bud heavy while cruising down the highway, felt at one with the scenery while driving through rural missouri and listening to iron and wine's first lp, and stopped at a dairy queen with moms so she could get a root beer float and i a chocolate chip cookie dough blizzard. mother's day brought big meals: one at mission hills country club with the rest of the young and old suits; the other at la familia in lawrence with brother jay. today, i went to the doctor and bought $50 worth or records. now i go to shoot hoops with brother curtis and his neighborhood friend, jim. tonight, game one in the pistons/pacers and mavs/suns series. nothing super interesting here, but i'll leave you with a quote from the book i'm currently reading entitled SPEED AND POLITICS by paul virilio: "western man has appeared superior and dominant, despite inferior demographics, because he appeared more rapid. In colonial genocide or ethnocide, he was the survivor because he was in fact super-quick (sur-vif). The French word vif, "lively," incorporates at least three meanings: swiftness, speed (vitesse), likened to violence--sudden force, abrupt edge (vive force, arete vove), etc.--and to life (vie) itself: to be quick means to stay alive (etre vif, c'est etre en vie)" (47).

rising gas prices

2005-05-03T13:48:00.000-05:00

the amount of money i just paid to fill my car with regular unleaded equals the current temperature here in ann arbor: 42. qué caro--qué frío. come friday, though, i'll start my drive back to the land of precious haircuts and curious dresses, otherwise known as lawrence, kansas, making an overnight stop in chicago. the next morning my mother will fly to chicago and, together, we'll drive the rest of the way from there. i'm feeling better, but the pain has not totally dissipated. in other family news: dog bites boy. yes, i guess our dog, abby, bit our homedog, curtis, yesterday evening on the cheek while jumping together on the trampoline. he's okay, but had to go to the er for some stitches.

the elders

2005-04-30T23:12:00.000-05:00

Originally uploaded by rswells.

grandpa and mr. wilson relax after a long day on the hacienda.

comes a time

2005-04-29T15:28:00.000-05:00

i started to muse on my own mortality yesterday afternoon when a sudden pain surged in my chest, leaving me inexplicably unable to breathe deeply. i didn't know what a heart attack felt like, but i considered that i was suffering from one at the age of 23. my roommate drove me over to the university health center, where i explained my condition, along with the family history of heart complications, to a nice doctor. all heart signs looked fine--they even gave me an ekg--and she diagnosed me with some sort of acid reflux disorder. she said that the best part of my outlook is that i do not smoke. the prescription: a few pills that won't work right away and a change in diet. i could not sleep last night, however, and sat upright on the edge of my bed shortly after 6am, my airways constricted, cursing, clutching the left part of my chest, and musing once again. indeed, the pills were not working yet. my temporary condition has forced me to postpone my plans to drive home this weekend with what would have been friendly stops in chicago and milwaukee along the way. this afternoon i bought a neil young record, "comes a time," to try and help expedite the recuperation process.

manifest destiny, no doubt

2005-04-27T10:56:00.000-05:00

Originally uploaded by rswells.

ASSOCIATED PRESS
11:24 a.m. April 27, 2005

PIKESVILLE, Md. – A herd of buffalo that got loose and wandered around a well-to-do neighborhood won't be causing any more trouble: Their annoyed owner plans to pack them off to the slaughterhouse.

The 10 or so beasts disrupted traffic and alarmed homeowners Tuesday before officers managed to corral them on a tennis court. More than a dozen police cars and a police helicopter were used to herd the animals.

"The way I feel right now, I'm giving them all away," owner Gerald "Buzz" Berg told The (Baltimore) Sun. "They're going to the slaughterhouse."

Officers using outdoor lounge chairs as shields formed a human chain to corral the beasts, but one buffalo was seen leaping over a net on the tennis court to evade capture.

Berg, who owns a Baltimore demolition business, has raised bison on his 40-acre farm for about 10 years, mostly for meat.

Police spokesman Shawn Vinson said Wednesday that no charges were being pursued against Berg, who said he did not know how the animals escaped. A week earlier three bison got out through an unlocked gate but stayed close to the farm, Berg said.

of montreal and the nba playoffs

2005-04-26T13:20:00.000-05:00

oh, man. was last friday night the best night out of the year? oh, yes. a great group got together to catch of montreal here in ann arbor at the blind pig. we did not let the squares that surrounded us deter us from dancing to that 21st century electro-pop. plus, i drank, like, 100 beers (including a pacífico, which i drank in the shower before i left), and i met a hip, new girl. at one point, the girl told me that i smelled nice, so the shower before was fully vindicated. and let's just say that this is not the first time that a girl has told me that i smell good. my secret, you ask? soap. indeed, like kermit the frog says in THE MUPPETS TAKE MANHATTAN after he gets hit by a taxi, and then decides that his hame is philip phil and joins an NY ad agency full of other frogs named, jill, gil, and bill, all while suffering from temporary amnesia: "soap: for people who wish to be clean." since then, it's been all nba, a snowstorm in the middle of april, a few new jams, and an end of the semester paper writing: the rockets look rad and the pistons look like they can repeat, the snow has already melted, "love's so far away" by d. byrd is proto-disco, and i'm on page 14 out of i don't know how many. yet, i can only try to be gracefully grandiloquent for so long.

a final stanza

2005-04-19T01:41:00.000-05:00

“Labour is blossoming or dancing where
The body is not bruised to pleasure soul.
Nor beauty born out of its own despair,
Nor blear-eyed wisdom out of midnight oil.
O chestnut-tree, great-rooted blossomer,
Are you the leaf, the blossom or the bole?
O body swayed to music, O brightening glance,
How can we know the dancer from the dance?

W.B. Yeats “Among School Children"

Un relato

2005-04-19T01:35:00.000-05:00

La Srta. Vegas

Cuando yo era niño, el mundo era como un sueño—un sueño de bicicletas, papalotes, caramelos, y la Señorita Vegas. Vivía con mis padres y mi hermanito en Sevilla. Durante el año escolar tenía que ir a la escuela, por supuesto. La verdad es que no me molestaba tanto ir a la escuela, porque estaba enamorado de mi maestra: la incomparable Srta. Vegas. Ella era tan bonita, tan simpática. Le escribía cartas de amor describiendo la profundidad de mis sentimientos, pero nunca se las di. No sé por qué. Tal vez porque sabía que ella no estaba preparada para recibir mi amor. Tal vez porque estaba avergonzado. De todos modos, pasaba mis días en la clase, admirando a ella y su letra perfecta. Una letra tan precisa como las matemáticas, pero tan expresiva como la poesía.

Cuando el verano empezó y mis clases terminaron, yo lloraba y lloraba por las horas y los días y los minutos que ya no pudo pasar con mi Srta. Vegas. Era tan triste que ya no parecía que nada podía consolarme. Mi madre pensaba que yo no quería ir a la playa—el lugar a donde siempre viajábamos durante los veranos—porque temía al agua. No temía al agua, sino que temía que nunca iba a ver a la Srta. Vegas de nuevo.

Sin embargo, ese verano en particular, el verano de ’96, el destino se me presentó. Ese verano, cuando estaba en la playa de Málaga con mi familia, vi a la misma Srta. Vegas tomando el sol en la misma playa. No podía creer que ella estaba allí, pero era cierto. Sabía lo que tenía que hacer. Yo ya tenía doce años; era una edad ideal para el primer beso. Hasta entonces, nunca había besado a nadie, salvo a mi madre, supongo. Pero nunca había tocado los labios de otra chica con los míos.

Estaba decidido. Ella estaba acostada, encima de su toalla con sus ojos cerrados, posiblemente dormida. Me acercaba lentamente hacia mi destino, hacia mi primer beso, hacia el resto de mi vida. La arena me quemaba los pies. Me faltaban diez pasos. Seis pasos. Cuatro pasos. Yo estaba allí, yo estaba listo.

De repente un hombre feo surgió de la nada y besó la mejilla de la Srta. Vegas—mi Srta. Vegas—al mismo tiempo que una nube gruesa cruzaba el sol.

Me escapé rápidamente de la escena. Me sentía como no podía controlar mi mente turbulenta. Corría hacia el mar, hacia lo frío, cuando un relámpago de lucidez me golpeó al entrar en el agua: el otro sólo había besado la mejilla de la Srta. Vegas, los labios todavía eran míos.

my first words

2005-04-11T01:28:00.000-05:00

hello. it's almost 11.30pm on a fresh sunday night here in the eatern time zone. i just started this blog instead of reading whatever it is that i should be reading for tonight/tomorrow: to wit, THE FOLD: LEIBNIZ AND THE BAROQUE by gilles deleuze and EL ZORRO DE ARRIBA Y EL ZORRO DE ABAJO by josé maría arguedas. i tried to get through some of these earlier at a coffee shop, but i kept listening to this extremely angry boy two tables behind me. the girl accompanying him had just broken the bad news, and he took it poorly and loudly. it really didn't seem like the kind of conversation that should be going on in a public place. then i picked up on the chatterings of this attractive couple nearby. they sounded like they were speaking in spanish. i could not fully decipher what they went on about, though, and since their accent did not ring familiar, i thus concluded that they were not speaking spanish but, obviously, portuguese. which reminds me of one of the final scenes of LOVE ACTUALLY that i must admit that i watched the other afternoon with my roommate, alan. he cooked some pasta and i cooked some pizza in our little italian kitchen while i couldn't help but get sucked into that sweet black hole. plus, mom got the soundtrack a few christmases ago and watching the movie made me think of listening to that kelly clarkson song in the glory days of the hemi-powered durango (wadup, curtis!) as we drove around suburban kc in the snow. after i told alan about my memories, we both agreed that kelly clarkson comes off as being "totally down-to-earth." i watch lots of television these days--we've got hundreds of channels at my house. i felt like old dad today when i caught almost the entire final round of the masters while i ate popcorn popped on the stove and drank a wild cherry pepsi. i even took a little nap on the couch. unlike, dad, however, i did not snore. now i will see if i can find some sleep on a sunday night--a rarity these weeks. yet, before, i'll try and think through the "crepuscularity of being" that i plan to write a bit about for a paper. of course, i'll also wash my face with my dermatologist-recommended soap. you wouldn't believe the amount of anxious time i spent in front of the facial cleanser section today at the grocery store, though. i thought i could feel my face exploding as i failed to locate the liquid PURPOSE soap and had to settle for the NEUTRAGENA. i've always thought that the following sentence could be seen as a valid avatar of the bourgeosie boy: "no, sorry, but i can't make it to lunch today. i have an appointment with my dermatologist."