Faster Than a Speeding Bull… Frog

4/17/10: Mendoza, Argentina

I am like Superman. No, I can’t lift cars, chase down comets or look good in spandex, but I believe I’ve officially crossed into superhero territory. I too now lead two separate lives: there’s at-home, routine-based, Mundane Kevin and then there’s… dun da da da… Travel Kevin! Who can shoot (pictures of) lions, thwart robbers, change clothes in bathroom stalls, fly (in airplanes) and jump over canyons.

I know this was from 10 days ago, but it proves my point here.

Travel Kevin is cool, meets lots of people, sees lots of iconic places and is envied by many others. Mundane Kevin enjoys waking up to the TV, nights in watching TV and weekends off watching TV. He is not envied. And soon, Mundane Kevin will rear his ugly head. (This is just a saying – in actuality Mundane Kevin’s head is much less ugly than Travel Kevin because MK cuts his hair and shaves with some frequency.)

Zhou and I have officially planned our return date, and therefore the start of our PABRL (Period of Adjusting Back into Real Life). We’re returning on, drumroll please… July 1!

What? That’s it?! I thought you were traveling for close to 11 months, and by my math that’s not even ten!

I wish you wouldn’t be so quick to judge. September 10 – July 1 is actually exactly ten months. It’s 295 days, which is the equivalent of four non-leap-year Februarys, a March, April, May, June, July and September. But yes, although we will no longer be able to travel until July 31 as planned, we will officially have taken exactly ten months for our honeymoon when all is said and done. So how will things differ once Mundane Kevin returns and Travel Kevin as we know him is gone forever? I’ll use our day off today as an example.

The plan this morning was to go visit a lovely park about an hour’s walk away from our hostel. We had heard many great things about the park and the weather was beautiful – it seemed like a perfect day to go. We were almost halfway there and we stepped into the post office to buy some stamps for our much overdue postcards. After a long wait in line we found out that this post office (which was as big as a gymnasium) had run out of stamps. Our spirits crushed, we decided to instead go home and take the day off. We had lunch with a nice couple we met in our hostel (they had made too much soup and we were out of food), and then we spent the afternoon on the computer. At 8:30 we boarded a bus that we’d ride for the next 18 hours before connecting to another bus that we’d ride for another eight. It was a pretty boring day for Travel Kevin.

This time next year, assuming it’s a weekend and he’s found a job by then, Mundane Kevin’s office-whitened skin will probably have become too sensitive to light to do anything outdoors. Whereas a beautiful Argentinian park isn’t good enough for Travel Kevin, MK would give anything to have that experience. Come to think of it, MK would probably even love going to the post office for stamps. That would mean he had something worth mailing to someone else. But one year from now, he definitely won’t.

For lunch, MK and Grad Student Zhou will probably eat alone while watching episodes of Jeopardy! from the week. No one will offer them soup. MK would then kill time by blogging, but nobody wants to read a mundane blog, so instead he’ll sit and stare at the wall while GSZ does homework. MK wouldn’t ever consider boarding a bus for an 18-hour ride – that’s something only his superhero alter-ego would do. Besides, MK will have to get up early tomorrow to go to work. Before he goes to sleep though, MK will look back on the day as one of his most exciting in quite some time (there was, after all, an eight-day champion on Jeopardy!).

The moral of the story: enjoy Travel Kevin while you still can. I sure will.

PS – For those of you curious why we’re coming back so soon, Zhou accepted her offer to get her PhD in economics at the University of Virginia, where summer classes start really darn early. Congrats Zhou!

You may not know it from this picture, but the Getting-Into-Grad-School Monkey is officially off Zhou's back!

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Puzzles for Postcards

Where Am I? Name the country.

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Picture of the Day: Look at how excited Mundane Kevin was in the Zhang family kitchen on September 9, 2009. Travel Kevin would have never found that room worthy of taking a picture.

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Don’t Drink and Scrabble

4/16/10: Mendoza, Argentina

Mendoza being the famous Argentinian wine region, I had been eagerly anticipating our visit to the city. Visions of beautiful countryside, outstretched vineyards, quaint patios and full glasses of wine swam around in my head. Ahhhhh…

Our hostel advertised two options for seeing the wineries: a minibus wine tour (two wine tastings and one chocolate tasting) and a bike rental (Mr. Hugo’s). We opted for the bikes because (a) lots of people had said it was the best way to see the vineyards and (b) Kevin doesn’t drink, so a minibus tour would have been totally pointless to him. At least by biking we’d see a little bit of the scenery and the countryside. Right?

We hopped on a local bus and finally arrived at Mr. Hugo’s 45 minutes later. We got off the bus, and as I looked around I felt an unfamiliar sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, one I hadn’t felt much since we left on our trip. What was that strange feeling – no, it couldn’t be – but no! it was – the feeling of disappointment! I had pictured a small, dirt road with quaint country buildings periodically popping up on the horizon and nothing but grapes and more grapes in between. Instead, we were on a large road crammed with mini-markets and boarded up buildings. Trucks kept flying past us and kicking up dust in our faces. I looked all around me, but I didn’t see a single grape. Not even one! I was worried.

We picked up our bikes and a little map from friendly Mr. Hugo and rode off. My worries then became realities. The scenery was still all mini-markets and boarded up buildings. I consoled myself that at least we were riding in a lovely bike lane next to a ditch full of trash and dirty water. A few minutes later we arrived at our first stop, an olive oil/chocolate place. After a short tour we tasted some bread with olive oil, a few pepper pastes and some chocolates. Then we each had a shot of chocolate liqueur. Except by “we each” I mean I had two shots of chocolate liqueur. Kevin didn’t want his.

We left the chocolate place and went next door to the wine museum. We had missed the free tour by a few minutes so we spent some time taking pictures in sepia and black and white. Because we’re old-fashioned like that.

After 15 minutes or so, we got tired of waiting for the non-existent tour and left. We got back on our bikes, turned back onto the main road and headed in the direction where most of the vineyards were. The bike lanes, which had been the only redeeming feature of the road, ended abruptly and we were soon on a bumpy and even dustier road. “I don’t think this is very… nice!” I called back to Kevin. “It’s not!” he yelled back. “Then why does everyone do this? I don’t get it!” We rode on like this for about half an hour before we eventually decided to turn onto a side road with two wineries. I rode up to the one that was further away and contemplated it silently. Kevin pulled up beside me a few seconds later.

Z: Umm…
K: Yeah.
Z: Yeah.
K: The other one looked nicer.
Z: Yeah, definitely.

We rode back to the other winery, parked our bikes and walked up the path toward the front steps. Suddenly, a man threw open the front doors, reached out toward us with his arms wide open and shouted, “Heeeeeeeey!” with a huge smile on his face. Uh-oh, I thought. Was he expecting someone? How could he possibly confuse us with anybody he was expecting to see? Should I explain that we’re not them? Or maybe it would be better to just pretend we were the people he was expecting? Could we get some free wine this way? By the time I finished this thought process we had reached the front door and the Super Amiable Argentinian Man (SAAM) threw his arms around me and squeezed me tightly for some very long seconds. I preemptively went in for the cheek kiss, but the SAAM preempted my preemptive cheek kiss and went straight bang for my mouth. I was a bit shocked but tried politely not to let it show. He let go and turned to Kevin. Kevin looked a bit stunned. I happily pictured what might happen if the SAAM went for Kevin’s lips and wondered which of the amusing scenarios in my head might occur, but then the SAAM just kissed him on the cheek. Bummer.

The three of us did the introductions, and it turns out he hadn’t gotten us confused with anybody at all – he was just a very VERY friendly person. He ushered us inside and up to the patio. He brought me a glass of Merlot and Kevin a bottle of water.

This fellow wanted to die happily in my Merlot, but I shooed him away after the picture.

The SAAM came by every few minutes to put his arms around Kevin and rub his shoulders and ask how we were doing. I finished my glass of wine in record time. We went inside and I got a glass of the Malbec Rose, which we took out to the front and away from the amorous embraces of the SAAM. We sat underneath a trellis and opened up our salami and crackers. Kevin proposed a game of Scrabble, which I happily and tipsily agreed to. It took me a few tries to fit all my tiles into my rack. (I think somebody kept knocking them out when I wasn’t looking.) I contemplated my letters, closing one eye for a better view and some inspiration. A few minutes later I finally put down three letters: BUG, for 12 points. Kevin recorded the points and looked at me smugly. “What?” I asked. “I need to take advantage of this game,” he said.

We had only made it halfway through our game when the SAAM came out and sat down next to Kevin and put his arms around him. “We’re closing. Do you want anything else?” he asked. “Oh no, no, we’re good.” We packed up our half-finished game (which surprise! Kevin was indeed winning), I drank the last of my Rose, and we said our goodbyes. The SAAM sent us off with another hug and kiss, both a bit longer and potentially even more awkward than the first, and an empty wine bottle as a souvenir.

We got on our bikes to ride the half hour back to Mr. Hugo’s. I had a semi-irrational fear that I might fall off of my bike and into a ditch while Kevin rode away not seeing me flailing my arms and legs about helplessly, so I made sure that I rode in front of him. Despite my mental state being a bit wobbly (see: BUG as first play), my bike riding was actually very sound, so I made it back to Mr. Hugo’s in one piece. And even though the experience wasn’t what I expected at all, it still turned out great. The wine was excellent, the vineyards were very pretty once they came into view, and I never fell off my bike. Really, what more can you expect?

Oh, and once I sobered up I did beat Kevin in that Scrabble game.
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Picture of the Day: From the wine museum.

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If I Spoke Spanish I Wouldn’t Have to Armpit Fart

4/15/10: Mendoza, Argentina

Pretty much everywhere we go it seems as if people are speaking in a foreign language. Yesterday on the bus, for example, the guy in the row in front of us did a half-turn in his chair to where the tip of his nose just barely sniffed the top of the head rest. Then, as if he was Dick Tracy minus the hat, he whispered, “de donde eres?” It didn’t sound English to me, so I ignored it. Two seconds later I heard it again. The tone reminded me of the guys in Nepal offering me drugs, only they actually spoke English. I looked up and caught the man’s eye. (Nuts!) “De donde eres?”

I staggered an “uhhh” and then turned to Zhou. (This has become my coping mechanism in all situations where I can’t understand what’s going on.) Usually Zhou bails me out, and this time was no different. “Estados Unidos.” He proceeded then to speak enough Spanish to completely baffle even grad student Zhou. After a bit of an awkward back-and-forth where we were telling him in English that we didn’t speak Spanish while he was speaking more Spanish back to us anyway, his wife finally turned to him and hit him in the arm. “Come on Tom [name made up to protect his reputation], just talk in English!” The guy was from Utah! He’s lived in the States all his life! He overheard us talking about American things and decided to quiz us in Spanish for no other reason than we were in Argentina. Look at what traveling does to people…

On the topic of foreign conversations though, I’ve noticed a few things during our first 217 days on the road.

(1) English really lends itself to awkward conversations. I used to think that awkward banter between two people who are afraid of silence was a universal thing. I can’t count how many times I’ve talked to someone because farting the alphabet with my armpits is no longer considered mature (that and I never was good at armpit farting). I’m sure all of you English readers feel the same way. I’ll let you in on a little secret though: there is no such thing as an awkward conversation in any language but English! We’ve now heard countless conversations in all sorts of languages, but every single time it appears that the parties involved are fully invested in what they’re talking about. I don’t know how they do it.

[Awkward pause.]

(2) THIS… IS… NOT… AN… INSULT. Isn’t it considered offensive in the States to talk loud and slow to someone who doesn’t speak English? Like in Rush Hour where Chris Tucker meets Jackie Chan at the airport and shouts “DO YOU UNDERSTAND THE WORDS THAT ARE COMING OUT OF MY MOUTH?!” I got the feeling that he wasn’t doing it to be helpful. After 25 years I can finally understand what it feels like to be Jackie Chan, and if I were him I’d be quite thankful for Chris Tucker’s big, slow mouth. People down here talk so incredibly quickly that even when I know what they’re saying, I can’t even finish processing the first word before they’re looking for a response. I think that this may be the first time in the history of man that anyone’s ever said this, but why can’t everyone be like Chris Tucker?

(3) I’m beginning to dread backpacker banter. It’s always the exact same. “Where are you from?” “How long are you traveling for?” “What’s been your favorite place?” “I love LeBron James.” “Oh, you’re not going there??” “Yeah, but my tour only cost x dollars.”

Well maybe I made one of those up, but the rest are constants in every travel conversation. (One conspicuous absence? Names. We’ve talked to some people for several days without ever learning their names.) I actually fell a bit guilty about this, but the repetition has gotten to the point where a couple of days ago Zhou and I and another girl chose to sit through an awkwardly silent breakfast instead of engaging in the stereotypical small talk. (Harkening back to point #1, if we all spoke Spanish then we would have had an amazing, jovial conversation.) Don’t get me wrong – we still love meeting new people, but if we can tell we’re going on separate ways in 30 minutes the silence option is beginning to look decent.

(4) Thank you.
Asante (Swahili)
Dhan ya bad (Nepali, only no one ever says it)
Kap khun kap (Thai)
A kun (Cambodia)
Cam on (Vietnamese)
Xie xie (Chinese)
Arigato (Japanese)
Gracias (Spanish)

I actually thought the list was going to be much more impressive when I started it. But that’s all Zhou and I can remember…
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Picture of the Day: Yes, this is the best I could do for today…

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It’s Deja Vu All Over Again

4/2/10: Bariloche, Argentina

How this post will be structured:

A statement about what happened today. (how many times we’ve done this before or how many times this particular thing has happened to us before or a random number of my choosing)

Example 1: I am about to begin writing a mediocre blog post that won’t be particularly funny or entertaining, but at least you will have something to read eight days from now. (>75)

Today we woke up early. (too many times, and none of those times have I been happy about it) We had a typical Argentine breakfast of some bread and some more bread. (17 or 18, however many days we’ve been in Argentina) We packed up our day packs with some snacks and our lunch (10,000) and waved goodbye to Nolise the dog and Bluse the cat (4). We walked to the bus stop. (800) We waited thirty minutes for the bus (799), were practically convinced we must have missed it and that it wasn’t going to come for another hour and almost gave up and walked back to our hostel (the almost part has happened many, many times; the actual giving up part has never happened…yet) We didn’t really know where we were going, so we just got off when all the other people who looked like they were doing hikes got off. (10)

After we got off the bus, we looked around and realized we had no idea where we were and what we were doing. (one million) We walked around for a bit and eventually asked another group of lost-looking tourists if they knew what they were doing. (38) But they didn’t. (17) We picked a trail at random and decided to walk up it. (8) Half an hour into it, we decided it wasn’t the correct trail and walked back down. (1!) We walked back down to the bottom of the mountain and walked to the beginning of another, easier-looking trail. (1 again!) We climbed to the top, using the new trail. (500) We stopped to look at the view and take some pictures (500). We ate a lunch of salami and crackers. (293) The salami did not try to fly away. (292). We climbed back down and took the bus back to our hostel (500). I took a nap. (250,000, and every time it’s still amazing). Kevin did not take a nap. (240,000) After a couple of hours doing nothing (2,300), we went out to dinner. (150) Dinner was delicious. (147) And cheap. (140)

Despite the salami-and-cracker lunch (293), the total confusion about what we were trying to do (one million), the getting lost even when it should be practically impossible to get lost (more times than I care to admit) and the fact that we spent most of the day walking (2,393), it was a really, really good day. (Every day. “Awwwww.”)

To distract you from this mediocre post that I have written (>75), here are a bunch of pictures!

Lots of lazy bees.

Purple countryside.

This is a display of love.

Contemplating a salami and crackers lunch.

Post-salami glow.

Kevin stands.

Nope, Kevin jumps.

Things growing scenic-ly in front of the mountain.

More of the same.

Saved the most scenic plants for last.

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Picture of the Day: It’s a winding road, and we still don’t know where it goes.

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Too Lazy to Think of a Title

4/1/10: Bariloche, Argentina

In my never-ending quest to please the audience of this blog, I have taken precious seconds out of my day to draw a graph for you.

When Zhou and I took our only vacation during our two years of work at Wachovia, we knew what we wanted to do with our week off: as little as possible. I’m pretty sure though if we had been given two or three weeks off, we would have planned a fun trip where we crammed in as much as we could. Anything over that time period though, and we would progressively get lazier.

It appears that we’ve now hit the wall of long vacations (WOLV), and as you can probably tell from the statistically-proven graph above, we’re heading quickly toward infinite laziness. It’s a scientific fact that only two people have ever reached infinite laziness: Homer Simpson and Jamarcus Russell. Despite what some may think given how often Zhou writes about napping, we actually do not want to join this crowd. I will, however, give you a sneak peak of what happens to planned activities after you’ve hit the WOLV.

On the docket for today was a hike up a mountain, a trip to the bus station to book tickets to Santiago, a walk around town and a barbeque for dinner. Given that we had not done a single strenuous thing for over four days, I thought we should have no problem getting ourselves out of bed. We are, after all, traveling around the world in order to actually see the world, not lounge around in our long underwear. I’ve got about 18 pairs of pajamas pants back home that are just itching to be worn, and I don’t want to make them jealous knowing that we’re not doing anything here.

Anyway, we were barely able to force ourselves out of bed at 10am, and then it was only to eat the complimentary homemade bread for breakfast. As soon as the bread was safely stored inside our stomachs, guess what Zhou did? She headed back downstairs for a nap, not to be awoken until 1pm. In the meantime I watched television and sat with a zen-like stillness so as not to accidentally do any unwanted exercise.

By 2pm though, we did head out to accomplish our goals, and surprisingly enough we did just that. (This is the only thing separating us from Homer Simpson.) Have a look for yourself:

The view to the west from the top of Cerro Campanario.

The view to the east from the top of Cerro Campanario. Unfortunately we were stuck under the rain clouds, not the blue skies.

I didn't pull this picture of a large church in Bariloche off the internet. We were actually there.

We stopped into what I would call “The Willy Wonka factory” of chocolate stores. Wait, does that not work? Suffice it to say this place was huge.

The only thing that wound up being missing was the barbeque dinner – that was just too much work. We reheated some leftover pasta instead.
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Picture of the Day: A small sampling of Bariloche’s famous chocolates. We ended up buying about three quarters of a pound of this stuff.

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