Laura The Explorah

One of the more unfortunate realities of Cuba is the existence of "jineteros", or scam artists. Jineteros are Cubans who look for tourists to take advantage of- either in the form of selling fake cigars, offering illegal services and taking commissions, or offering their companionship in return for drinks food and money (sounds like soft-core prostitution to me).

Whenever I saw a Cuban walking with a foreigner, I assumed it was a jinetero, which is equally fucked up on my behalf. They could very well have a real friendship or relationship, but the reality is that more likely than not, it's a jinetero just looking for a little something something. And what's even more fucked up, according to my friend, is that this is a totally accepted way of earning money. Not necessarily respected, but accepted. 

For example, my friend told me that he's been out at a club, flirting with a Cuban girl, and if a foreigner shows up that she's gonna go prey on, she'll excuse herself from the Cuban, ask for his number to continue their flirtation later, and go to the foreigner. And this is totally normal. Or, even crazier to me, is that many of these jineteras have boyfriends, called chulos, or essentially their pimps from my understanding of it. And these chulos are totally ok with their girls going out night after night looking for foreigners to entertain. These all seemed absolutely crazy to me, and somehow a completely normal way of life to the Cubans I spoke with.

We realized early on that the overly friendly Cuban that approaches you is most likely a jinetero and meant to be avoided. The honest Cubans, the ones who you want to be friends with, normally won't approach you first. Why? I think they are so conscious of not being thought of as a jinetero that they don't really have interest in befriending foreigners. 

One of the most interesting things to me about Cuba is how, in many ways, disconnected they remain from the rest of the world. Don't get me wrong, they're not ignorant or anything like that, and every Cuban I spoke with had a ton to say about the current events of the world, they just don't have a lot of the connections that most of us have to the rest of the world. 

Most Cubans have never travelled outside of their country (or within their own country, for that matter). Most Cubans don't know how to drive (verrrry few people own cars, and even a junky old soviet car costs upwards of $10,000, all of which has to be purchased in cash- there is no credit). While there is now wifi in at least a couple of public parks in Havana, it's expensive ($3/hour!) and I can't imagine that many Cubans use it with any kind of frequency. 

Even though people have smart phones, they're not constantly browsing on their phones like we do. Im not sure they ever use the browsers, because nobody has internet like that. (Or he few people that do probably pay fucktons of money for it). A fair amount of people have internet at home, but it's unbelievably slow and really only works to read email and not much else. YouTube videos? No way. Downloading videos. Not a chance. The Internet in houses doesn't run on fiber optic cables but rather through the phone lines, and it's just absurdly slow.

How do you get in touch with a Cuban if you're outside of the country, then? They don't have whatsapp, they barely use Facebook, and they can't send international text messages. Theyre completely disconnected.

Food was another interesting aspect of Cuba, mostly because their relationship with food is so different than our American relationship with food.

First and foremost, what I noticed is that Cubans don't snack, and they certainly don't waste food. As an american I'm so used to food being available at all moments of the day. At my house, if I want a snack between proper meals, I open the cupboard and grab something- something already prepared and easy. Cubans, it seems, cook most of their meals from scratch. Even dogs get homemade food (seriously- dog food like we know it is really expensive and it's much cheaper to make your own food). And any unfinished food from your plate goes directly to the dog.

And the supermarkets- I don't get it. The small markets seem to always be a hair away from empty. And they carry the strangest collection of foods- tomato paste, Havana Club rum and crackers galore, but water? Casi impossible. I once asked if they had carbonated water, and the lady looked at me like it as crazy and responded "uhh? Cerveza ?" Want a bag to Cary your purchased items in? Only if you're lucky.

Things like plastic cups and spoons are luxury items and hardly found. Fruits and vegetables come from either vendors on the street or small markets specifically for produce. Bread comes from the bread guy who sells it on the street in the evenings, and many people have a bucket on a string that they'll lower from their window with money in it so that the bread vendor can take the money from the bucket and put the bread in the basket which is then pulled back up. Red meat and fish are incredibly expensive (how fish can be expensive on an island is completely baffling to me), as is canned tuna. And often, things just aren't available. For a couple of days there wasn't chicken in any market anywhere. You have to have a lot of patience, as often things just aren't available at the moment. But wait a couple of weeks and you'll probably find what you're looking for again.

Food in restaurants also seemed completely bizarre to me, mostly because it just wasn't very good. I'm sure in more expensive, fancier restaurants, the food would be better, but I mostly ate in more local restaurants. And mostly, it was kind of gross. The vegetables never seemed fresh, and the fish that I always ordered was most certainly not fresh. The best food I ate, and it was legitimately delicious,  BY FAR was homemade, either in my Casa particular or at my friend Junior's house. And that was definitely delicious. Garbanzos fritos, malanga frita, arroz moro, platanos rellenos, ropa vieja ....yum yum yum! And the coffee! Absolutely delicious!

Homemade deliciousness at Junior’s house 

Making tamales with Teresa

Garbanzo frito how I love you

Cerdo, ensalada de aguacate, malanga frita and other goodies

Another one of Cubans locuras is its transportation. Getting around La Habana is a mix of walking, bicitaxis, shared taxis (colectivos), coco-taxis, tourist taxis, or fancy tour buses. They all serve distinct purposes and all have their own eccentricities. I can't tell you how many times I've heard "taxi lady!?" Hollered at me on the street.

My favorite are the bicitaxis which are exclusively used for short distances- within your own neighborhood mostly. They usually cost only 1cuc, and they are hilarious. The bikes themselves have no gears, and they move very, pero VERY slowly. Driving around in one of them at night is always an adventure as the driver swerves and swoops to avoid potholes. Some drivers pimp out their bicis with neon club lights and speakers that blast reggaeton . Obviously those are my favorite. My friend told me that if you bust your ass driving one of these things you can make 8-10 cuc a day. Definitely not too shabby.

The taxi colectivos are gems as well. They drive along certain routes and you have to hail them down as they drive past and ask if they are going where you need to go. And if the answer is no, they don't even bother saying no, they just drive off. They cost 1/2 cuc per person for most destinations. The cars are all extremely old, from the 1950s, and it's honestly just amazing to me that they still even work. They are enormous, old, rickety, and awesome. The front seat is one long bench and you slide right in next to the driver. I've been in some colectivos that can hold up to 10 passengers. Yowza. And what's even more impressive is how completely normal they are to all the cubanos who use them everyday. I've been in some pimped out colectivos as well, with neon lights and loud music, and those are always fun.

The coco-taxis are really just silly. Motorized little buggy type things, and the drivers wear helmets. Never got in one so don't have much more to say about it.

The tourist taxis are beautiful, old, classic convertibles from the 1950s. I actually never got in one because seeing tourists driving around in them always made me squeamishly uneasy, but I'm not gonna lie, deep down I totally wanted to get in one too.

And then, the tourist bus.... This was something really weird to me- there are large greyhound-type buses that take tourists around on short distances, and while they are by no means exclusively only for tourists, I can't imagine a cubano ever paying to get on one. For example, every time we went to the beach we would walk to the Parque Central and get on one of these, which cost $5cuc round trip. Not terrible, but kind of very weird when you consider that the guagua that the cubanos take to the beach cost $6 pesos (Moneda nacional), which is roughly the equivalent of $0.25 cents.

(And lastly- the double motorcycle thingy (what are these called?!. I saw at least 5 of these in my time here in Cuba, and each time they made me smile real big)!

When I decided to come to Cuba, I absolutely envisioned dancing salsa every single night until my feet fell off. Do you believe me when I tell you that I didn't go dancing one single time? Well, I danced one song, one night, with one guy. And that was it.

Why? First of all, not all, but MANY of the salsa clubs in Habana are so touristy that just thinking about going there makes me want to throw up in my mouth a little bit. It's jinetero-landia, and it's expensive, and it's quite frankly just not something I was interested in. The famous "Casa de la Musica" in Habana costs $10-15cuc just to enter! Hell no was I gonna pay that!

And the other thing is that, to be honest, most young Cubans I met aren't really into salsa. Reggaeton and "electronic music" (read: American music) rules here, and I'm not gonna lie, Cuban reggaeton is fucking amazing. It's rich with rhythm, naughty with lyrics, and overall just yummy. These are some of my new faves:

There are two options for lodging here in Cuba: either a hotel, or a Casa particular. The hotels are obvious: overpriced, touristy, and bland. And to be honest from what I've heard and seen myself, the hotels are strangely old, run down, and musty- like your great aunt's house who hasn't changed the upholstery on the furniture in over 50 years. Juliano and I snuck into the Hotel Sevilla one day to use the pool, and while the pool itself was nice, the rest of the hotel was totally bizarre. Old, ugly, and just overall weird.

Casa particulares, on the other hand, are the homes of regular cubanos who rent out rooms in their house. This is a relatively new business that the government has allowed, and it's a huge boost to the cubanos' income. Apparently only as of a couple of years ago are you allowed to have more than 2 people per room per house at a time. Some rent out the entire apartment itself, and it's essentially like an Airbnb. These range in price from $25-50cuc per night, and are honestly quite nice. Sometimes the family does indeed still live in the same house, and the vibe ends up being more like a bed and breakfast. The Casa particulares are very controlled by the government and all of the legal ones have official blue signs on the outside of their house indicating that they are official "arrendedores". (And, we were told, if you're looking to "matar uma jogada", look for the red signs- those are rented by the hour 😉).

Others rent out rooms in their houses and it's more like a homestay. I opted for this option, and I'm fairly certain I ended up in the best house in all of central Habana. My first night I stayed in a private apartment that I found online for 25cuc because I couldn't make any other arrangements, but then literally stumbled upon something better the second night. While walking on the street I passed by a Casa particular and went in with Juliano to ask how much the room cost. The gentlemen who owned the place didn't have any room for me, but called his friend Lazaro to come and get us. Lazaro came a couple of minutes later and brought me up to his house across the street, where we met his wife Cristina and his daughter Teresa. It was love at first sight. The instant we walked into the house both Juliano and I felt at home. It was immediate good vibes, and the price was perfect, and I made plans to come back the Next day, and a couple of nights later Juliano joined me as well.

The experience that you get through a Casa particular is unlike any other. It is an authentic look into the life of a Cuban, and for me, it was priceless. They really became my family, and the one night I spent outside of habana I really truly missed them. When Juliano missed his flight and returned to the house frazzled and in tears, they told him "do not worry- you are with family here. Even if we only had one egg left, we would share it with you".

Teresa cooked the most delicious meals for us, Cristina "la Comandante' as we affectionately referred to her always knew everything about everything, and Lazaro's insights into modern day Cuba were just priceless. Teresa's son Juan was a hilarious addition to the house, and even came out one night to a gay club with Juliano and I- which for a straight young Cuban to do so willingly really impressed us. Sitting in the living room of the house and listening to Juan mess around with his grandma in a voice that I can't help but think of Ricky Ricardo was truly priceless. Each night when Juliano and I left to go out Lazaro would remind us of the communist doctrine : "diviertense mucho y gasta poco":  "Enjoy yourselves a lot, and spend very little,"  Every day some neighbor or friend or cousin would stop by, and the energy and laughter that passed through the house was just absolutely precious to me.

Although the fact of not having regular hostels makes traveling solo much more difficult, the opportunity to get a glimpse into real-life Cuba by staying in a Casa particular is really special and I'm so glad I had the opportunity to do so.

First of all, Cubans are beautiful. They are everything: as diverse in their eye color as they are in their complexion as they are in their hair texture and color. From blonde to black to straight to curly and everything in between. Even dripping in sweat from the 10000 degree weather, the women looked gorgeous to me. And the men?  I probably fell in love several times a day, although I'd never give ANY of the hollering men on the street the satisfaction of knowing that I might have thought they were beautiful too.

To me the most interesting thing about Cuban style is that the gender lines, at least as I know them, are completely blurred. Things that I'd normally associate with femininity are completely masculinized here, and while I'll admit that in the beginning it seemed totally silly, it's actually grown on me quite a lot. And the colors! Cubans love colorful clothes- bright pink shorts with a bright purple short and matching pink sneakers. As someone who loves everything to be obnoxiously colorful, I was absolutely in heaven.

For example- eyebrows. I don't know many men who get their eyebrows done- and by eyebrows "done", I really mean done. I'm not talking a little grooming here and there, or cleaning up of a unibrow - I'm talking full out DONE. Shaped, and purposefully shaped to accentuate the curves of their faces. Juliano and I spent the first few days marveling at how beautiful men's eyebrows were, and I'm not gonna lie- some of them made me even a little jealous. (Constant eyebrow grooming is not a part of even my backpacking-chic-regime).

Another thing that I love here are the man purses. It's the land of man purses- except by man purse I really just mean purse. I've never seen such blatantly hetero men use such obviously feminine purses. It always makes me smile, and I totally Love it.

And the pants! Maybe it's just a trend of the moment, but cubanos love to wear harem pants, which they call "cagados". Baggy and loose in the crotch but tight and cropped on the bottom. I've seen everyone from young teenagers to adults in their 50s using these pants, and each time it makes me smile.

And lastly, the hair. Oh, cubanos, how they seem to love some crazy ass hairstyles. The go-to look seems to be shaved on the sides with some ridiculous pompadour-y or slicked situation on top. Definitely not my favorite part of the Cuban shtyle , but admittedly after 3 weeks even this has grown on me.

I don't really understand fully where all these clothes come from, because I went into several shopping malls (mind you I'm  calling them that because I suppose that's what they're supposed to be-but don't get it twisted- they are by no means a mall like you know), and the few clothes that I found were insanely expensive. $15 for a t shirt, $40cuc for a pair of sandal high heels. Who the hell has money to buy these things?! A friend told me that many people get clothes from relatives who live outside the country and bring it for them, which makes sense, but does everyone in this country really have a relative that's supporting their entire wardrobe? I don't get it, but then again I don't really get anything in this country.

And the window displays in stores made absolutely no sense. There would literally be a mannequin wearing used looking clothing next to a stool with a variety of nails and other random hardware pieces, next to a pair of shoes and a tube of toothpaste.  No sense. Nonse whatsoever.

Wow. What a trip this was. Three weeks in one of the most fascinating countries I've ever been to, and all I can think of is when can I go back? (Seriously- anybody wanna go to Cuba?)

I absolutely fell in love with this country and the people I met here. Maybe because it reminds me so much of Brazil in many ways, or maybe because it's always been such a mystery... Or maybe because I was lucky enough to meet some of the most spectacular people I've met my entire trip- people who gave me an insight into the country and it's people that I never would have seen on my own.

Between my host family (Cristina, Teresa, Lazaro and Juan) who treated me like I was blood, to my Cuban friends Junior and Alejandro who took me under their wing as if we had known each other for years, and my dearest Juliano who I met on the plane and will forever remain a dear dear friend of mine, I couldn't have been luckier. Even though everything in this country is confusing and complicated and nothing makes sense, it comes with its own charm. While I won't pretend to really understand this country (3 weeks here and I still exclaimed every single day "no entiendo NADA en este país!"), I can attest to the warmth and cariño I felt from almost every Cuban I came into contact with.

Cubans are so proud of their country and their heritage, and it's a beautiful thing to see. Every Cuban you meet is sure to tell you how safe and secure Cuba is, and how there isn't any violence in this country. Sure there are problems, and sure they've been through some really rough times, but overall, Cubans seem happy. Almost every Cuban I met complained about the poor economy (and the ridiculousness of having two currencies- one which is meant mostly for tourists and one which is meant only for Cubanos), and many seem to want the opportunity to travel to the US to be able to make more money and help their families- but even so, they are happy. One of the most beautiful things I felt from most Cubans I met Is that they are simple- they don't need big houses and fancy cars or expensive clothing to be happy. They have their families, and their friends, and those relationships are solid gold to them. It really put things in perspective for me, and how superfluous so many of the things we put value to really are.

After three weeks of trying to decipher Cubanese and partaking in hours upon hours of conversation (Cubans love to talk. Pero, A LOT.), I will miss the Cuban spice and flavor that I've grown quite fond of.  I'll miss the guy selling bread every evening on the corner ("El pan! El pan!"), and I'll miss my jugo de guava and cafecito con tortilla de huevo every morning. I'll miss the bici-taxis and the ridiculous taxi cars from the 1950's, and I'll definitely miss everyone calling me "mi vida" or "mi amor". I'll miss hanging out on the malecón and shooting the shit with my friends, and I'll most definitely miss my morning chats over coffee with Cristina and Teresa.

Cuba, definitivamente me robaste el corazón, and I simply can't wait to go back and explore more of you.

I came back to Colombia after 2 weeks in NYC, and since my plans to travel with a friend fell through, I bought my ticket to Cuba which left in 10 days, coiiiiiiiincidentally out of Cali. 

So back to Cali I went to kill 10 days while I waited for my flight to Cuba. I danced, I drank coffee with wonderful people, and I anxiously counted down the days till Cuba.

I did a day trip with Gabby, Mark and Valet to San Cipriano, a small town 2-3 hours out of Cali with a beautiful river for swimming, which is accessible only by train rail. Except there isn't a train that goes there, rather, you sit on a platform of wood with a shot tilt attached bench, while a motorcycle pushes the platform along with one measly wheel on the tracks. It's the most bizarre form of transportation I've ever been on, and it was spectacular. 

The 15 minute ride on the rail brings you to San Cipriano, which is a simple and remote town in a part of Colombia that still gets harassed and violated by the guerrillas. I have to say, as beautiful as the river was and as much fun as we had hanging on the banks all day, I have to say that this was the absolute only place in Colombia I've been to where I've felt so unwanted and disliked by the locals. I expressed this to several Colombians back in Cali, and they all said the same thing: that this community has been so fucked with by the guerrillas, that they are understandably worn thin. So I seeked compassion for them, and i don't begrudge them for maybe not being the friendliest. However, will I go back anytime soon? Nooooope.

Playing a Colombian game whose name I forgot : throw heavy weight in middle of clay platform and try and make the hidden dynamite go boom. It was fun, I swear. 

Coffee with Juan: very very talented artist and beautiful soul. , and resident self-proclaimed terrorist bodyguard. 

 I  came back to NYC for a quickie 2 weeks, to go to the wedding of my dearest yoni and Naomi, and to see my fam. Truth be told, I wasn’t looking forward to it. I wasn’t homesick, and wasn’t feeling like I needed to come back. But I was pleasantly surprised- not by the city, but by how deliciously good it was to be with my friends. I have the best friends in the world, and to have two weeks to smother them all with love was so amazing. I got to spend some great time with my family, and that was absolutely priceless. I squeezed in some cooking lessons with juju, errands with Safta, checking out moms gig with Ayman, AND still managed to squeeze in some Forro with some very special friends. Max and I made our DJ debut on the rooftop party of some dude in Wburg, and my friends- my most favorite people in the whole fucking world, give or take a few,- closed down the party dancing until 4am in the morning. I do not lie when I say I have the best friends in the world. 

However, I will say, that after being gone for so long, it has become abundantly clear to me that I really truly have no interest at the moment in going back to NYC anytime soon. Not to live at least. Sleeping on the couch of my apartment, I really felt like a visitor, and you know what? I was ok with that.....But Anyways, as a visitor, NYC: I want you dripping in sweat all over me! 💋

First night back in Santiago Marlon and I went to see some gypsy music. And by gypsy music I mean a 20 piece band with SEVERAL cymbal players and lots of other crazy shit. It was insane. Afterwards Marlon and I got our salsa on a bit, and ended the night eating disugsting street food. Welcome back to Santiago :)

The following day was the Brasil vs. Colombia game, and wow, what a fucking game it was. Marlon and I were completely torn, not knowing who to root for. Brasil holds a special place in both of our hearts, but Colombia was the beautiful, sexy underdog. 

So we chose Colombia, and left for the game with some of our friends from the hostel. This was the first game that really felt like a South American soccer game.... The crowds outside the stadium were insane, and the atmosphere was exactly what Marlon and I came for. It was epic, to say the least. 

We ended up sitting behind a crew of guys that I can only describe as hoodrats from Bogota. We started chatting with the m (better to make friends with the hoodrats than enemies, no?), and they told us how they hitchhiked 11 days from Bogota to get down to Chile. And then they started pointing out people in the crowd to us who were supporters of rival Colombian soccer teams. He said “normally, we are enemies. Pero today, its just peace.” Then he asked to borrow my cell phone to record a video for his mujer and asked me to send it to him. South American internet and stupid ol’ Tumblr wont let me upload the video, but maybe one day ill add it in here. Take my word, it was hilarious.

The next day Marlon and I rented bikes, and had the most LOVELY day biking around Santiago. Santiago is a really lovely city. Its pretty, its what i consider a real city - with bustling traffic and lots going on. But its polluted as fuck and you can literally feel youor nostrils burn from all the disgusting shit in the air. Actually the day after we left Santiago there was an article in the news saying that the government shut down something like 900 factories because the pollution had reached DANGEROUS levels. Seriously, no joke. 

But biking around was lovely, and the streret musicians we sat and listened to for a while were lovely, and Santiago is lovely, and the 20 year old boys who shared their pot with us in the park were lovely as well :)

We had lunch one day with one of Marlon’s music contacts, a really nice and up-and-coming kind of hipster musician named Gepe. He took us out to the fish market and we ate some delicious fish soup, and I made fun of Marlon for being a vegetarian and not being able to eat anything. 

SIDENOTE: Do you know that my friend Marlon has been a vegetarian since he was 4 years old? Do you know why? He confessed that this decision was made on the fact that he was obsessed with dinosaurs when he was younger, and his favorite ones were the herbivores. And for that reason, and for none other, he decided as a precocious 4 year old, to never eat meat again. Wow.

Anyways, this is Gepe - check him out;

We went back to Valpo for one more night, technically to see the Peru vs Venezuela game, but we ended up skipping the game to go to our friend jesus’ art opening. We spent the night singing weird karaoke, making beautiful music, and loving life. The next day we checked out the beach, a la Valpo winter shytle. Then back to Santiago for our last night before we sadly left chile to go to Yoni and Naomi’s wedding in NYC! 

June 10-20, 2015

Hello Chile. 

You are incredibly different from Colombia, holy shit. And after a ridiculously expensive one-way ticket and a legit 6+ hour flight, I arrived. 

(mind you, horribly devastated to leave Cali)

I had 2 days before Marlon arrived, in which time I mostly just got settled in to what turned out to be an incredibly awesome hostel. I met some lovely people (Camila, my friend from Brazil!), walked around the city, and mostly marveled at how incredibly different Santiago is from anywhere else I’ve been in a while. 

Southern South America is so different. It feels so much more European, so much closer to home. And its a city, which, I know how to do quite well. I love the feeling of anonymity in a city - no one gives any fucks about you, and you are free to do as you please without drawing too much attention. I love it. 

The night before Marlon arrived I ended up going out (in search of Salsa dancing, mind you) with a friend from the hostel. The series of events that ensued infuriated me, and left me saying “Santiago, you little bitch, I am giving you one last chance to redeem yourself!”

Basically, the bouncer at the “club” which we rolled up to at 2:30am was a total dickhead. Like, major, absolute, dickhead. I approached him with an insanely friendly and cheerful disposition, asking in Spanish mind you, if the club was still open. He refused to speak Spanish and only wanted to respond in English - ok - and immediately asked “where are you from?” Surprised by his question, mostly because the tone implied that depending on where we were from, he may or may not let us in, we both responded - France. New York. 

My friend asked how much the entrance was and the bouncer said he couldn’t remember, and then proceeded to ask us a few more DICKHEAD questions before finally saying “Its 1500 pesos each” which he CLEARLY just made up. Dickhead! 

When he finally let us in I was already so put off by the entire experience (me, all along thinking: “who the fuck doesnt want to let me in to their salsa club?!?!?”), and not at all surprised to see that there were only like 10 fucking people in the club, I already wanted to leave. The waiter ran up to us, not to offer quick service, but to harass us and demand that we already order a drink. 

I looked at my friend and said lets go. I couldn’t stand to be in that DICKHEAD establishment any longer. 

Luckily, the next day when Marlon arrived, everything got better :)

We went immediately to Valparaíso and followed a bible of cool suggestions from one of Marlon’s friends who lived in Valpo for years. It did not steer us wrong once. 

“Sentando en las escaleras, Valparaíso en mi corazón” 

Valparaiso : has a mystical energy. Its like someone dreamed up this place while in a deep and colorful sleep, and then built the city while tripping on acid. Its a place where the street dogs are husky and happy and healthy, probably because they almost all have neck warmers and jackets that people make for them.   The buildings are almost all covered in colorful grafitti and murals, and the entire city is basically built into a series of insane steep hills. There are “ascensores”, or elevators, that cost a few cents and take you up steep sections of hill. The city is dripping with an artistic energy, and its honestly inspiring. Marlon spent most of our time walking around choosing which houses he would like to live in. There were many. 

Happy Dogs with neckwarmers and jackets.

Our first night we went to an incredible little bar that Marlon’s friend recommended for some live music. A chilean guy from across the room caught my attention because he was also itching to dance to the music, and so we began to dance and made a new friend with a mohawk, Patricio.

We hung the entire night with Patricio, who proved to be a great friend and wonderful contact. We drank at a house party, we walked in the crazy strerets and hills of Valparaíso, and talked a lot of nonsense. There was a very strange electro kind of Kumbia concert, as seen above. I dont have much to say about it, except that it was very weird.

Marlon and i spent the next day walking around with a friend of a friend, Estefanía, who was kind enough to show us around the city, and we both basically just fell in love. Valparaíso, me robaste el corazón! I have a hard time keeping a smile off my face, although then again im definitely not trying 

Estefanía left in the afternoon and Patricio joined us. We followed another one of Marlon’s friend’s recommendations and ended up at a hole in the wall, outdoor restaurant with live music. Mad, fucking, real. The musicians were mostly in their 70s, and it reminded me of one of the authentic Greek restaurants in Astoria, Queens where no one uses a menu and you just get incredible, home-cooked deliciousness. 

We eventually make friends with an incredible group of hippie-musician-artist folk, who ended up shaping our entire Valparaíso experience greatly. Czech Petra and Spanish Jesus are the most beautifuly harmonious couple youve ever met; Matt and Kat are the cookiest Aussie couple and i immediatly have a crush on kat because of her neon pink tights and bad-ass hair bow; Elena from France who peaks with a perfect Aussie accent and exudes a bas-ass-give-no-fucks-energy, and a couple of other weirdos. Add Marlon, Patricio and I into the mix, and magic ensues.  We spend until nightfall dancing to the music and eating delicious empanadas de queso. Needless to say, it was an epic day. 

Kat, Petra and jesus

Patricio

The evening continues on at our friend’s hostel and then house. And the music and good energies that were cooked up all night long were almost unending. Elle and Kat are some of the most incredible singers and musicians ive seen in a while, Petra plays the freaking cello, Jesus is a silly flute player and Matt holds it down on the guitar. Oh, and Patricio freestyles. And i found my spirit instrument : the finger cymbals.

But mostly, the free spirits and beautiful energy in the room kept the night going. That, and a few bottles of wine and a handful of joints. But really - to pause and see Spain, Czech Republic, Australia, USA and Chile all sitting around a room and makinf beautiful music is a beautiful, beautiful thing. Music is, afterall, the universal language, isnt it?

There were bubbles, there were ghosts, there were flower crowns and ukeleles y había tanto perros como extranjeros. The fishes were so fucking tasty, the salmon was salty,   me gusta la marijuana and more awesome bullshit. 

It’s a beautiful day in Valparaíso, and I never want to leave.

The next day we went to a Ecuador vs. Bolivia game, which truthfully was underwhelming but still fun. Have I mentioned that its fucking freezing in chile at the moment?!

Valparaíso street grafitti words of widsom

june 3-10 2015

Cali, cali cali...... Is it the Cali-effect? Is that what its called?

Whatever it is, Cali i fucking love you. I love this city so much I cannot even justify it. I love the hostel that I stayed at (El Viajero whattup), I love the people that I met, I love the nightlife scene more than anywhere I’ve been in a long time, i just love it.

This time I met the most amazingly special group of people - people I am sure will be friends for life. The way that a crew develops when youre staying at a hostel is such a funny thing, and really just so wonderful. We had the best vibes, and just the sweetest and kookiest fam. Merle, Omari, Anna, Tania, Rebecca, Gary, Dovie, Jules, Sal , Ronald, Leslie and of course Matthias. To our North Pole themed last-night party, to busted lips and stitches, to Jessica and Pernet being the coolest human beings possible, to weed-fairies and dance parties, to salsa-caleña being the best goddamn type of salsa in the world, to hammocks and besitos, to glitter and birthday cakes, to plasma facials and other colombian nonsense, and most of all ........to Colombian Booty Jeans.

I literally only spent a few hours in Quito followed by a few hours in Bogotá, just passing through to get to Cali. 

Quito - I absolutely do not have enough on you to form an opinion. But you seemed aight.

Bogotá - you have some of the shittiest weather ever, but as a city, you know? I really like you. Things are happening, people are bustling, students are doing cool shit, and people are real. One day soon I hope to come back for more than a few seconds.