El Mercado de Otavalo

Last night I practically had to drag Zach out of the room to check out the local nightlife. I have to give credit though, after a little cajoling, coaxing, and threatening on my part he agreed to come along and chupa algunas cervezas conmigo.

As we were walking to one of the local penas (bars with live music that charge a cover)we ran into a gaggle of giggling seattle-ites trying in vain to find somewhere to go. I had used by broken Spanish earlier in the day to get some information from the locals about some nearby bars and penas, so I had an idea. We eventually ended up at the most crowded pena where the floor was packed with locals dancing the Salsa. We were the only gringos there. I had a lot of fun dancing around and talking to some local kids, and even Zach drank enough cerveza to dance with one of the girls he liked.

We left around 2 or 3 and walked back home. At 5 a.m. we were both jolted awake by a series of gunshots and bells ringing... it sounded like the livestock market was getting underway.

Later we dragged our selves out of bed and hit the market. Thousands of people filled the streets and slowly walked through the fabric drapped squares that were vendor stands. A few hous after going to the market we ran into the americanos that we were hanging out with last night. These puffy-eyed grouchy lads obviously didn´t fare as well as Zach and I, so we joked around with them a bit before heading off our separate way again.

Now back to the market for some good ol´american style consumerism and a bite to eat. ciao!

Hola de Otavalo

Every once in a while it pours in the desert, or the moon eclipses the sun, or George Mason beats the Huskies... and about just as often, I drag my ass out of my routine and go on a real vacation.

Right now I´m in Ecuador with my buddy Zach. I arrived a couple nights ago in Quito and today we took a bus north to the town of Otavalo. The first couple days in Quito were great. I arrived at night and we went straight to the hostel. There we were greated by a bunch of european hostel workers drinking beer and hanging out. We talked about with a few of them till 11 pm and then I went out on the town with a group and Zach went to bed.

The nightlife in Quito can be really fun. We stopped by a few places, but eventually settled at a bar with some blasting salsa music where I proceeded to show my salsa skillaz and embarass the poor switz hostel host who was stupid enough to agree to dance with me. It was all in good fun though, and actually I was really the only one willing to dance. Most of the guys there were English and according to them, bars are for sitting and drinking and conversing. Salsa is for eating.

After muchos cervesas we crawled to a nearby club blasting Snoop Dog and proceeded to dance and hang out some more. We had alot of fun, but when the clock struck 3 (?) they began to close, some guy smashed a bottle over another guys head, and we caught a taxi back home.

The next day... my first day there, Zach and I walked all over town. I learned some interesting things. One, Zach is a chocolate expert. We went to a chocolate factory and he knew more than the person giving the tour! I had no idea, and he´s my best friend. Weird.

After that we ambled aimlessly for the next 6 hours or so. As the afternoon arrived it became obvious that I had developed one the worst wifebeater sunburns ever known to Suramerica. The pattern of my sunburn is quite ridiculous and zach is loving making fun of me and having me show it off to everyone.

Today we went to Otavalo for the ´best market in Suramerica´. We´ve already shopped a bit and the woven clothes and rugs are incredible.

Overall, I am really thrilled that I decided to go on this trip. I only wish I had planned to stay longer!

Heart of the City

Exist, originally uploaded by craptastica.

This last week, I flew back to DC for work. I decided to fly in on Friday, so I could enjoy the weekend with my friends. I lived there for two years, and haven't really been back since I departed for New Mexico almost exactly one year ago. My friends, however, all still live there and all welcomed me with open arms (and couches).

The weekend was a bender like the headwaters of the Potomac River. We went to concerts and visited clubs and bars to the wee hours of the morning. Every night was better than the next and besides a sore throat and scratchy voice I seemed to develop a serious sleep dept.

Eventually the week came and I donned my expensive suit and became the anonymous metro rider. I was in DC for the next three days and the work stuff went perfectly. I was a little relieved, but also proud that a year of planning paid off so well.

The biggest effect the trip had on me was two-fold. The first is that I'd be in big trouble if I stayed there for more than one weekend. I'd probably be a broke, smoker, drunkard in no time. The second and more true is that I really didn't realize how much I missed my friends and what kind wonderful people they all are.

Row Houses at Dusk

Row Houses at Dusk, originally uploaded by craptastica.

The Red Fortress

mesa_de_guadalupe.jpg, originally uploaded by craptastica.

"It was brutal" he said. Then his eyes narrowed slightly and it seemed as if he was looking at something in the distance, "The Jemez people took the worst beating of them all."

I was talking to Chris, our Forest surveyor about the reconquest of the Jemez Pueblo by Diego de Vargas. Chris is somewhat of an amatuer historian who's currently in the process of reading a translation of de Vargas's original journals from the early 1600's.

Ths conversation was triggered from my recent weekend hike that I was telling him about. I climbed to the top of G___ mesa, which was the last Jemez holdout, and had brought up the dozens of ruins that still remain. Much like the jews of Masada, on the banks of the Dead Sea, this mesa was where the Jemez people made their stand against the Spanish.

They built their homes on top of the seemingly impenetrable mesa and stacked rocks on all sides to protect their fortress. The Spanish were tasked with climbing the almost vertical cliffs of the mesa while being showered with rocks and debris. Standing on the mesa top is seems impossible, but history says otherwise.

Eventually, the Spanish under the leadership of de Vargas climbed the steep slopes and broke through the impermeable mesa top defenses. Unlike the jews of Masada (who all committed suicide when it became obvious the Romans were going to penetrate their masada), the disease-ravaged and betrayed Jemez people were all dominated or killed by the Spanish.

Standing on the mesa top surrounded by the ruins of a people's last line of defense, I felt bewildered. It is almost inconceivable that the events of the past read of in books are true. It is unbelievable that a people once known for thier peaceful way of life and hospitality were treated so brutally. Yet rocks don't lie and the mesas of the mountain are colored red with blood.

Ruins on the mesa

guadalupe_ruins.jpg, originally uploaded by craptastica.

One of many ruins on top of the mesa.

Tso'odzil: The Mountain of Enemy Gods

sara_on_top.jpg, originally uploaded by craptastica.

Last weekend I convinced Sara to go camping with me somewhere. After considering a bunch of places, we decided to go to Mt. Taylor - a big-ass mountain about an hour west of Albuquerque near Grants, NM.

We took all of our camping gear and enough food for about a week! We headed out Friday after work and arrived on La Jara Mesa just a little before the sun kissed the horizon goodnight.

We lit a candle and drank a bottle of wine while staring into the clear, crisp starry night. It was cold, but not so windy and we felt a thousand miles from the nearest person.

That night we froze our assess off. Literally! I had to amputate a cheek... well okay not really but it felt that cold. It definitely gave us some reservations about sleeping up there the next night. But as the sun came up the warmth began to wash away our hesitations.

Our plan was to climb to the top of Mt. Taylor. We had a bit of a late start, but were soon on the road to the trailhead, and then starting out on the trail in the snow.

We thought it would be a cinch... 2.5 miles or so up. Maybe, we thought, we could keep going and hike all the way to the La Mosca lookout!

That didn't happen.

About a half-mile up the snow got thick on the trail and in some points Sara and I found ourselves up to our knees slogging through the snow up a steep incline. We had fun looking at all the animal tracks and elk bites on the aspen trees. We didn't see anyone that whole day, but there were fresh footprints on the trail and we came up with all sorts of crazy theories about how tall the person was, whether they walked with a limp, and what their deal was based on small clues left by their feet.

The snow layed thick on the trail all the way up the mountain, which made the hiking exhausting. Eventually the wind kicked up and my fire boots couldn't hold back all that snow, leaving my feet wet and icy cold. But we were determined and finished climbing to the top.

Once at the top, we cooked lunch and ate it while staring at the snow-dashed slopes that flowed in all directions from the mountain top.

The wind was so strong and both of us so cold there was an unspoken understanding that there was no damn way either of us was going to camp out another night. Instead, we got in the car and drove home like that was the plan all along.

That night I laid in my warm soft bed and slept like a hibernating bear.

Mt. Taylor Aspen

mt_taylor_z_aspen.jpg, originally uploaded by craptastica.

A funky trail-side aspen.