I don't' know many 23 years old that would sign up for a week long road trip with their parents, but I also don't know many parents who consist of a beautiful duo of artistic insanity and overall skepticism with a mustache and a fiery redhead ready to work her always present inner-entrepreneur and show dance floors whose boss.
We set off Friday afternoon, a bit of a slow start after I had to get some work appropriate shoes.(Shoes never being my strongest point). And faja had a donut craving, closer to that of a pregnant woman than anything your average 70 year old man has.
But anyways, the drive was going pretty smooth outside of the bumper to bumper traffic we reached in Chicago in the boomboom of rush hour. This caused mama J to go a lil kray, but I reminded her its all about the journey and focused on extending an aura of tranquility. Before long we were channeling The Partridge Family and singing songs far too embarrassing for me to mention here.
Just as I thought we couldn't get any cornier (but loving it all the same), Faja warned us that he brought along his 38 special in case anyone fucks with us. Thanks for keeping it real real Dad.
We arrived in Memphis at 11:11 (make a wish) and the first person I saw upon entering the south was missing his front tooth. Thank you universe for making the world so perfectly comical.
The next morning we stopped at a Waffle House, none of us ordering waffles, but feeling semi-authentically southern none the less, before heading to Graceland.
I was expecting Graceland to be quite the trip and almost wishing the three of us had some LSD to make it all the more colorful, but it fell somewhat of short of my expectations--at least in the realm of crazy Elvis fanatics.
Growing up, Elvis has always had a decently large presence in the Huebner family. Faja grew up with the King and even received fake sideburns from his sister because he couldn't grow his own. Was he pre-pubescent at the time? Nope, mid-30s.
The love for Elvis was passed through my dad to my brother Adam who has the TCB lightning bolt tattoo ("Taking Care of Business" to any newbs out there)and wore a baby blue tuxedo to his wedding held at a cabin chosen because "Elvis would like it".
If this is my family, there must be some REAL Elvis freaks out there then, I thought. Unfortunately, one woman dressed in a full gold lame' suit was the only fix I got of the crazies, but it was enough to satisfy.
Mr. Presley knew what was up in his decorating abilities. His house was pretty baller, although I think he probably spent more on his two airplanes. It was super 70's- green shag carpeting on the floor AND ceiling kind of 70s. I was in heaven.
Although I might have gotten an over-dose of Elvis in my early youth, there's absolutely something to be said about the level of originality, authenticity and spirit this man who came to be known as The King possessed.
Clearly, an alien-life form brought to us Earthly beings; providing us with new levels of rock n' roll, sassy hips and velvet everythings.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Saturday, September 18, 2010
What happens in Vegas....what happens in vegas??
We drive through the desert highways millions of miles below one of the most beautiful star-filled skies I've ever seen. We stare silently out our windows, our eyes heaven-sent, time and space a far memory of another reality, fingers crossed for an alien hitchhiker on the side of the road.
As we start to see Vegas, I'm surprised to see even more lights on land than up above and can't help but lose a sense of connection to the Earth but focus on embracing the world of slot machines, hookers and degenerate gamblers.
We check into Monte Carlo and make our way along the strip in search of food not outrageously out of our budgets. I buy a $10 grilled cheese and make the economical decision to pass on the $12 whiskey my body craves.
The next morning I decide to wander the strip on my own and jump in and out of art galleries, shops and kiosks, mostly just incredibly over-stimulated. This city is an abyss of distractions for the Attention Deficit Disordered mind, my eyes constantly darting from lights to cleavage to bum to slot machine to lights.
I head back to the hotel after purchasing a sixer of Pacifico, feeling like my soul has been slightly raped by the city of sin, even during the daylight hours. Jack and I head down to the slots that he hit up solo until 7 a.m. the night before.
He teaches me the ways of the slots and I soon find myself loving sticking my dollar bills in the slot, only to watch some numbers move around on the screen, telling me it's slowly taking my money, and repeat the process. Maybe it was the free double Jack & Cokes that make me feel a false sense of accomplishment.
While Jack and I are being trained in the way of the degenerate gambler, Ben and Mark are at the Chicken Ranch to film. A trashier version of the infamous Bunny Ranch, the Chicken Ranch is full of STD-free hookers at your disposal. Because if you're going to lose any sense of pride, at least you know you wont go home with the clap.
That night I met Mama J out for dinner at Jimmy Buffet's Margaritaville for margs and a plate of nachos 3 times bigger than our heads. While she's in town to sell wind chimes at a trade show, she serves also as a beacon of motherly wisdom for me and I leave her refreshed as ever to enter the testosterone posse that is our crew.
Mark's friend Tommy lives in the area and meets up with us at Monte Carlo. I'm grateful for his knowledge of cheap drink dispensaries on the strip and we head out. I get a little too drunk a little too fast and find myself going into my own world on the dance floor, a place I love to visit when it presents itself to me.
Rather than heading to the wedding chapel, we get some Vietnamese food at Pho King Long (ha). While an Asian chick is puking in the bathroom, the boys share more disturbing stories of true and false life events, attempting to make me lose my appetite. Or mind. I eat on regardless.
The next morning my Kung Pao Shrimp is a sassy little bitch and I spend a good part of the morning taking shots of PeptoBismol, hoping I don't poop myself.
We drive for a 19 hour straight journey into Oklahoma; our only stop being in Alberquerque, NM where we encounter a gay bar, multiple bums and crackheads, and one very good looking hooker.
A disheveled older woman wearing a midriff-baring T-shirt and baggy pants wants to ask Ben the meaning of life but we hightail it out of there, still hungry but content to know we are alive and disease-free.
As we start to see Vegas, I'm surprised to see even more lights on land than up above and can't help but lose a sense of connection to the Earth but focus on embracing the world of slot machines, hookers and degenerate gamblers.
We check into Monte Carlo and make our way along the strip in search of food not outrageously out of our budgets. I buy a $10 grilled cheese and make the economical decision to pass on the $12 whiskey my body craves.
The next morning I decide to wander the strip on my own and jump in and out of art galleries, shops and kiosks, mostly just incredibly over-stimulated. This city is an abyss of distractions for the Attention Deficit Disordered mind, my eyes constantly darting from lights to cleavage to bum to slot machine to lights.
I head back to the hotel after purchasing a sixer of Pacifico, feeling like my soul has been slightly raped by the city of sin, even during the daylight hours. Jack and I head down to the slots that he hit up solo until 7 a.m. the night before.
He teaches me the ways of the slots and I soon find myself loving sticking my dollar bills in the slot, only to watch some numbers move around on the screen, telling me it's slowly taking my money, and repeat the process. Maybe it was the free double Jack & Cokes that make me feel a false sense of accomplishment.
While Jack and I are being trained in the way of the degenerate gambler, Ben and Mark are at the Chicken Ranch to film. A trashier version of the infamous Bunny Ranch, the Chicken Ranch is full of STD-free hookers at your disposal. Because if you're going to lose any sense of pride, at least you know you wont go home with the clap.
That night I met Mama J out for dinner at Jimmy Buffet's Margaritaville for margs and a plate of nachos 3 times bigger than our heads. While she's in town to sell wind chimes at a trade show, she serves also as a beacon of motherly wisdom for me and I leave her refreshed as ever to enter the testosterone posse that is our crew.
Mark's friend Tommy lives in the area and meets up with us at Monte Carlo. I'm grateful for his knowledge of cheap drink dispensaries on the strip and we head out. I get a little too drunk a little too fast and find myself going into my own world on the dance floor, a place I love to visit when it presents itself to me.
Rather than heading to the wedding chapel, we get some Vietnamese food at Pho King Long (ha). While an Asian chick is puking in the bathroom, the boys share more disturbing stories of true and false life events, attempting to make me lose my appetite. Or mind. I eat on regardless.
The next morning my Kung Pao Shrimp is a sassy little bitch and I spend a good part of the morning taking shots of PeptoBismol, hoping I don't poop myself.
We drive for a 19 hour straight journey into Oklahoma; our only stop being in Alberquerque, NM where we encounter a gay bar, multiple bums and crackheads, and one very good looking hooker.
A disheveled older woman wearing a midriff-baring T-shirt and baggy pants wants to ask Ben the meaning of life but we hightail it out of there, still hungry but content to know we are alive and disease-free.
the spirit of the mask comes alive in the form of dance in the Vortex
Arriving in Sedona, one of the vortex's on this planet, the energy of the place is unmistakable as we are surrounded by Mama Nature at her finest amongst giant red-toned rock formations. Due to the immense energy and spirituality of the place, Sedona attracts all types of energy healers, clairvoyants, shamans and universally in-tune people. Here are some good folk, albeit they're mostly all over 50.
We take a drive up to a higher elevation where we rent a helicopter for 20 minutes to shoot some aerial shots.
With only one extra seat Jack selflessly makes the sacrifice to let me go up, knowing how much it means to me. (Love you Jacky)
The helicopter allows us to see what no other land or air vehicle could as we hover among the rock formations and dive between canyons. We circle high above Mark down below losing his mind through dance, wearing the mask and blasting Judas Preist's Leather Rebel from a boombox.
Then we shoot some land footage of Mark half naked in his skivvies with the machete in hand, singing to the spirit of the mask on a rock. We all become one with the cacti as we pick their friendly reminders of their existence in the form of prickers out of our hands and feet, but we leave the scene with a sense of pride and fulfillment at the art that was just created and I'm grateful to be a part of it.
We wanted to get a family photo of our auras for the mantel, but that was a wrap and Vegas was hollering.
We take a drive up to a higher elevation where we rent a helicopter for 20 minutes to shoot some aerial shots.
With only one extra seat Jack selflessly makes the sacrifice to let me go up, knowing how much it means to me. (Love you Jacky)
The helicopter allows us to see what no other land or air vehicle could as we hover among the rock formations and dive between canyons. We circle high above Mark down below losing his mind through dance, wearing the mask and blasting Judas Preist's Leather Rebel from a boombox.
Then we shoot some land footage of Mark half naked in his skivvies with the machete in hand, singing to the spirit of the mask on a rock. We all become one with the cacti as we pick their friendly reminders of their existence in the form of prickers out of our hands and feet, but we leave the scene with a sense of pride and fulfillment at the art that was just created and I'm grateful to be a part of it.
We wanted to get a family photo of our auras for the mantel, but that was a wrap and Vegas was hollering.
the land of love
It's the night before our westward adventure of finding and creating magic when Ben and I are full of a healthy amount of wine and creep our way into my basement in search of Faja's mask collection. Each mask has its own spirit and the chosen ones instantly speak to us. We celebrate with more wine and look forward to the journey ahead.
The next day, the three amigos board a train to Chicago; Jack listening to hip hop in his new fur-lined hoodie, Ben devising a plan to steal the bulletproof vests of the train security and me requesting and receiving a dose of bubbles from Martin the drink cart man.
In Chicago, a white rental Yukon SUV picks us up and I meet Mark, the lyricist and madman behind Everything Under. We put our bags in the trunk along with the top of the line rental camera gear and Mark tells us about a time he was high on ketamine when his mom sent him some boxes with enough packaging puffys to fill the room as he did snow angels amongst them.
Solid first impression of Mark the "wild card" if you ask me. I would soon come to realize most of Mark's stories begin with "This one time when I ate acid.." and so on.
He speaks in pure visuals with a mind flow like I've never quite experienced. Even the music he makes is a visual happening as he will say things like "make this more red" while in the studio. "Make this yellow like the eye of an alligator."
And I dib you permatripping.
With our roadie crew formed, we journey westward, listening to Mark's insanities and attempting to pass out in the back of the Yukon with raging industrial metal playing into the wee hours.
I awake delirious to a gorgeous yellow sky and soon enough we arrive in our first destination, Loveland, CO. The land of love.
We stop by Gramma Becky's for some stuffed peppers and then Boongey and his little bitty pick up Jack and I to take us to his new home up in the mountains.
I am stunned that such beauty even exists, much less that two of my best friends from high school live amongst it.
We sip our beers and sit out back on the porch, reminiscing about the olden golden days and talking about things like the effects of DMT, modern childbirth practices, and suggest the incorporation of yoga in prisons; all while getting burnt by that big, beautiful Colorado Sun and overlooking a lake and only more mountains.
After a quick 'find-my-mind' nap, Boongey and I head to a Walmart parking lot to drink vino and shots of jaeger while waiting for Regs. The long lost Regs.
He pulls up with golden locks in his silver minivan with traveling companion/dog and fedora, full of fantastic energy per usual and we trek it to Denver for the Sound Tribe after show.
The people of Colorado are of a friendly breed like I've never experienced before. On the street there is no vibe of unfamiliarity as everyone openly talks to one another. It's a beautiful thing.
Regs tries to get us in to the show for free by bribing drogas and calling the doormen "Jersey" but this backfires horribly and we almost don't get in at all. We separate and individually persevere.
Big Gigantic plays with Alex B from Pnuma Trio, V joins the party, and I am all smiles in an ocean of ecstasy vibrations and movements, the saxophone leading my way.
We go back to V's apartment in downtown Denver and watch the most beautiful sunrise on her balcony before passing out on the futon.
The next morning, we evacuate Loveland just as the forest fires are spreading and heading towards Benji and Phil's home and make it down the mountain, our hearts heavy for the people who lost their homes and the earth that lost its trees.
On our drive through the majestic mountains, Ben, Jack and I sprawl out in the back seat, feet outstretched and quietly observe our surroundings, smiles spread across our faces in pure bliss. We smoke a spliff and listen to the psychedelic genius of Terrence McKenna as we curve in and out along the mountain side.
We stop in Vail to eat, Jack and I buy a couple jugs of Mississippi Mud black and tans, and Ben and Mark buy a machete for $19.99. Best $20 spent all trip.
It's here that I see the third black person during my 2 days in Colorado and I take a swig from the love jug in accordance to the rules of the drinking game I decided upon at arrival in whitefolkland, CO.
The next day, the three amigos board a train to Chicago; Jack listening to hip hop in his new fur-lined hoodie, Ben devising a plan to steal the bulletproof vests of the train security and me requesting and receiving a dose of bubbles from Martin the drink cart man.
In Chicago, a white rental Yukon SUV picks us up and I meet Mark, the lyricist and madman behind Everything Under. We put our bags in the trunk along with the top of the line rental camera gear and Mark tells us about a time he was high on ketamine when his mom sent him some boxes with enough packaging puffys to fill the room as he did snow angels amongst them.
Solid first impression of Mark the "wild card" if you ask me. I would soon come to realize most of Mark's stories begin with "This one time when I ate acid.." and so on.
He speaks in pure visuals with a mind flow like I've never quite experienced. Even the music he makes is a visual happening as he will say things like "make this more red" while in the studio. "Make this yellow like the eye of an alligator."
And I dib you permatripping.
With our roadie crew formed, we journey westward, listening to Mark's insanities and attempting to pass out in the back of the Yukon with raging industrial metal playing into the wee hours.
I awake delirious to a gorgeous yellow sky and soon enough we arrive in our first destination, Loveland, CO. The land of love.
We stop by Gramma Becky's for some stuffed peppers and then Boongey and his little bitty pick up Jack and I to take us to his new home up in the mountains.
I am stunned that such beauty even exists, much less that two of my best friends from high school live amongst it.
We sip our beers and sit out back on the porch, reminiscing about the olden golden days and talking about things like the effects of DMT, modern childbirth practices, and suggest the incorporation of yoga in prisons; all while getting burnt by that big, beautiful Colorado Sun and overlooking a lake and only more mountains.
After a quick 'find-my-mind' nap, Boongey and I head to a Walmart parking lot to drink vino and shots of jaeger while waiting for Regs. The long lost Regs.
He pulls up with golden locks in his silver minivan with traveling companion/dog and fedora, full of fantastic energy per usual and we trek it to Denver for the Sound Tribe after show.
The people of Colorado are of a friendly breed like I've never experienced before. On the street there is no vibe of unfamiliarity as everyone openly talks to one another. It's a beautiful thing.
Regs tries to get us in to the show for free by bribing drogas and calling the doormen "Jersey" but this backfires horribly and we almost don't get in at all. We separate and individually persevere.
Big Gigantic plays with Alex B from Pnuma Trio, V joins the party, and I am all smiles in an ocean of ecstasy vibrations and movements, the saxophone leading my way.
We go back to V's apartment in downtown Denver and watch the most beautiful sunrise on her balcony before passing out on the futon.
The next morning, we evacuate Loveland just as the forest fires are spreading and heading towards Benji and Phil's home and make it down the mountain, our hearts heavy for the people who lost their homes and the earth that lost its trees.
On our drive through the majestic mountains, Ben, Jack and I sprawl out in the back seat, feet outstretched and quietly observe our surroundings, smiles spread across our faces in pure bliss. We smoke a spliff and listen to the psychedelic genius of Terrence McKenna as we curve in and out along the mountain side.
We stop in Vail to eat, Jack and I buy a couple jugs of Mississippi Mud black and tans, and Ben and Mark buy a machete for $19.99. Best $20 spent all trip.
It's here that I see the third black person during my 2 days in Colorado and I take a swig from the love jug in accordance to the rules of the drinking game I decided upon at arrival in whitefolkland, CO.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
the insanity that is Buenos Aires
For Martins last night in South America, the Boomtang crew headed to Thelanious Bar for some live jazz music. Martin was planning on renting a suit for the occasion, but some things don't always go as planned.
The EcoYoga Park reunion folk were maybe a little too excited for the laid back crowd at the jazz joint and we got very aggressively shhh-ed at one point, but enjoyed ourselves thoroughly none the less.
Later, we headed back to the Baits Hostel where I found myself shaving the chest of some local musician as I figured he had too much hair for his own good.
The next night I wanted to take it easy so Katherine and I went back to Thelonious for "just ONE drink". That one drink turned into dancing on top of the bar until 8 o'clock in the morning.
B.A. was making me lose my mind-so Laura and I decided to head back to EcoYoga Park for another week to find some peace of mind.
We met some more wonderful souls and had some good down time but then headed back to BA for our last 10 days in Argentina.
These last 10 days were a whirlwind of mate sessions in the park, walking around Palermo wanting to buy everything in sight, watching tango in Recoletta, trying to find good vegetarian food in a city that prides itself on meat, and falling in love at least 50 times a day.
We stayed at the Baits hostel in Palermo Viejo, which in my opinion, just may be the greatest hostel in the world. Melvin from California managed it and was the most lovable man-always calling us "sweetie" or "babe", telling me how to get to the ATM and sharing his Sarracha hot sauce. The common area of the hostel had beanbags and a bar. Nuff said.
Laura and I stayed in a dorm room with Aunty Nee Nee and Katherine (both loves of my life from Round 1 EcoYoga Park), a man from Haiti who spoke neither English nor Spanish(no clue how that worked out...)and Julian. Ohhh Julian.
The most adorable little Colombian photographer. He'd wake up with his hair a crazy black tangled mess upon his head, make some fresh squeezed OJ and have a cigarette for breakfast. His street English was better than mine and he always had something sassy to say and shoes you envied.
He's a super talented photographer and is currently working on a new project for a gallery in BA of about 15 different people's facial expressions. Aunty Nee Nee, Katherine and I all did individual photo shoots with him which was really cool. I of course had basically one expression as I couldn't help myself from breaking out in nervous laughter, but the photos turned out pretty nice. All the love and best of luck to you Julian.
I tried to chill out on too much of the late-night night life scene this time around and having such a great group of people from all over the world in the hostel made it nice just to chill there with a couple beers and some good conversation.
We did make it out a couple times though, most memorably probably when we went to Club 69.
The Baits hostel crew headed to the club around 2 AM (the only appropriate time to go to a club in BA) and danced around in waves of house music while colorful transvestites danced on stage next to break dancers. I fell in love with a Brazilian man who asked me to be his wife and we planned our wedding. I think it nearly would have happened if I didn't meet up with the rest of the Baits crew and was released from the mild trance these Brazilian men so infamously can put you in.
With Laura out on the coast with Sarah and Andy for the weekend, I took a day all to myself to walk around this vibrant, pulsing city for hours, popping in and out of stores that caught my eye and making my merrily way to the modern art museum.
On the walk back, I stumbled upon a falafel place (!!!) and officially had one of the best days ever, feeling alive with my new sense of confidence in a city so far away from home and the comfort bubble that comes with that.
The EcoYoga Park reunion folk were maybe a little too excited for the laid back crowd at the jazz joint and we got very aggressively shhh-ed at one point, but enjoyed ourselves thoroughly none the less.
Later, we headed back to the Baits Hostel where I found myself shaving the chest of some local musician as I figured he had too much hair for his own good.
The next night I wanted to take it easy so Katherine and I went back to Thelonious for "just ONE drink". That one drink turned into dancing on top of the bar until 8 o'clock in the morning.
B.A. was making me lose my mind-so Laura and I decided to head back to EcoYoga Park for another week to find some peace of mind.
We met some more wonderful souls and had some good down time but then headed back to BA for our last 10 days in Argentina.
These last 10 days were a whirlwind of mate sessions in the park, walking around Palermo wanting to buy everything in sight, watching tango in Recoletta, trying to find good vegetarian food in a city that prides itself on meat, and falling in love at least 50 times a day.
We stayed at the Baits hostel in Palermo Viejo, which in my opinion, just may be the greatest hostel in the world. Melvin from California managed it and was the most lovable man-always calling us "sweetie" or "babe", telling me how to get to the ATM and sharing his Sarracha hot sauce. The common area of the hostel had beanbags and a bar. Nuff said.
Laura and I stayed in a dorm room with Aunty Nee Nee and Katherine (both loves of my life from Round 1 EcoYoga Park), a man from Haiti who spoke neither English nor Spanish(no clue how that worked out...)and Julian. Ohhh Julian.
The most adorable little Colombian photographer. He'd wake up with his hair a crazy black tangled mess upon his head, make some fresh squeezed OJ and have a cigarette for breakfast. His street English was better than mine and he always had something sassy to say and shoes you envied.
He's a super talented photographer and is currently working on a new project for a gallery in BA of about 15 different people's facial expressions. Aunty Nee Nee, Katherine and I all did individual photo shoots with him which was really cool. I of course had basically one expression as I couldn't help myself from breaking out in nervous laughter, but the photos turned out pretty nice. All the love and best of luck to you Julian.
I tried to chill out on too much of the late-night night life scene this time around and having such a great group of people from all over the world in the hostel made it nice just to chill there with a couple beers and some good conversation.
We did make it out a couple times though, most memorably probably when we went to Club 69.
The Baits hostel crew headed to the club around 2 AM (the only appropriate time to go to a club in BA) and danced around in waves of house music while colorful transvestites danced on stage next to break dancers. I fell in love with a Brazilian man who asked me to be his wife and we planned our wedding. I think it nearly would have happened if I didn't meet up with the rest of the Baits crew and was released from the mild trance these Brazilian men so infamously can put you in.
With Laura out on the coast with Sarah and Andy for the weekend, I took a day all to myself to walk around this vibrant, pulsing city for hours, popping in and out of stores that caught my eye and making my merrily way to the modern art museum.
On the walk back, I stumbled upon a falafel place (!!!) and officially had one of the best days ever, feeling alive with my new sense of confidence in a city so far away from home and the comfort bubble that comes with that.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
waterfalls and rainbows and moonbeams oh my
When Martin told us he was leaving for Iguazu Falls after the Bicential celebrations in Buenos Aires, Laura and I figured why not join? We love us some Martin and that pesky little flesh-eating bacteria in his arm needed some chaperones.
That, and we realized the three of us should never seperate after losing each other for nearly a full day in the madness that was the Centro of Buenos Aires where all of Argentina, if not all of South America, came together in one giant clusterf@ck of humans and torrential downpour. We were so lost Martino forgot his identity at one point.
Yes, we needed to escape the madness and see the epic beauty and natural wonder of Iguazu Falls in Northern Argentina.
The 20 hour bus ride was made bareable with movie and dinner accompanied
with some vino. Not to mention some Cambodian Valium.. Made real bareable.
We checked into the MarcoPolo Suites and decided to have an easy night so we could get to the Falls bright and early, before all the tourists pack in.
Laura followed this plan accordingly. Martin and I, on the other hand, played some pool and kept the beers flowing a bit too much. The morning trek was a little bit of a struggle for us.
However, insane beauty of nature apparently works as a wonderful hangover cure. The day was a bit overcast but the awesomeness of the waterfalls were enough to be stunned. Explaining the obsurdity of the power of the dozens and dozens of waterfalls is quite difficult so I will try and post some pictures. Although those don't really do it justice either.
At the biggest fall appropriately named Devil's Throat, there was an immense amount of water falling into a deep deep abyss and one orb-shaped rainbow resting on the edge of falls. It was absolutely surreal.
That night for dinner we went back to the same restaurant we went the night before where they served us THE best sauce our mouths have ever tasted. After trying and failing to get the house recipe to this elusive sauce none of us could distinguish, Martin used his charm to finally pull it out of the house chef. My God this sauce was crazy good. We almost decided to stop our pursuit of the Boomtang Revolution solely to devote our lives to making The Sauce and spreading its love throughout the land. I'm still considering this.
We started to make our way back to the hostel when we heard Pink Floyd's "Another Brick in the Wall" blaring live from a nearby bar and knew exactly where the Universe wanted us to be...
The band was great, playing more hits by The Police and others I can't remember right now thanks to the whisky bottle Laura thought would be a good idea to order for the table.
I danced with an old man (shocker), and we made our way to the only place still going after the band stopped. It was your typical night club playing typical inst inst beats, but the three of us were the only ones dancing. We danced on regardless until the whisky caught up to us and we treked it back to the hostel.
The next morning was a lot sunnier and we were excited to get back to the falls and go rainbow hunting. The view this day was absolutley mindblowing. It felt as if we were inside a dream in this canyon of greenery and waterfalls and neon birds and rainbows breaking through the blue, blue sky, and all that was missing were mermaids and a couple unicorns.
We made our way down the rocks to the waters edge, a couple hundred feet from the waterfalls and had some maté and meditated, inspired by the wisdom of the falls. By the time we came back down to earth, the sun had set and the park had completely emptied out. The train was no longer running so we made our way back to the park's front entrace walking along the railroad tracks, lit only by the light of the full moon.
Luck was on our side as we happened to be at the falls during the full moon, the only time they offer night tours. Before the tour, we went to the delicious buffet-style dinner offered at the park. This buffet blew Old Country Buffet out of the water-my goodness. I don't think I've ever eaten so much in my life. Martin suggested we go "Roman Style", but I decided just to walk it off instead.
The falls at night were absolutely breathtaking as well. The power and energy of the Devil's Throat fall is unlike anything I've experienced before. WHOLE lotta water right there. I continue to be amazed by mama nature's creations on this trip, this absolutely being one of them.
We then took the bus back to Buenos Aires to meet up with some other EcoYoga Park lovers and celebrate Martin's last night in South America after his 9 month journey...
Lemme go wiiiild
I got the boomtang in my soul
Lemme go wiiiild
That, and we realized the three of us should never seperate after losing each other for nearly a full day in the madness that was the Centro of Buenos Aires where all of Argentina, if not all of South America, came together in one giant clusterf@ck of humans and torrential downpour. We were so lost Martino forgot his identity at one point.
Yes, we needed to escape the madness and see the epic beauty and natural wonder of Iguazu Falls in Northern Argentina.
The 20 hour bus ride was made bareable with movie and dinner accompanied
with some vino. Not to mention some Cambodian Valium.. Made real bareable.
We checked into the MarcoPolo Suites and decided to have an easy night so we could get to the Falls bright and early, before all the tourists pack in.
Laura followed this plan accordingly. Martin and I, on the other hand, played some pool and kept the beers flowing a bit too much. The morning trek was a little bit of a struggle for us.
However, insane beauty of nature apparently works as a wonderful hangover cure. The day was a bit overcast but the awesomeness of the waterfalls were enough to be stunned. Explaining the obsurdity of the power of the dozens and dozens of waterfalls is quite difficult so I will try and post some pictures. Although those don't really do it justice either.
At the biggest fall appropriately named Devil's Throat, there was an immense amount of water falling into a deep deep abyss and one orb-shaped rainbow resting on the edge of falls. It was absolutely surreal.
That night for dinner we went back to the same restaurant we went the night before where they served us THE best sauce our mouths have ever tasted. After trying and failing to get the house recipe to this elusive sauce none of us could distinguish, Martin used his charm to finally pull it out of the house chef. My God this sauce was crazy good. We almost decided to stop our pursuit of the Boomtang Revolution solely to devote our lives to making The Sauce and spreading its love throughout the land. I'm still considering this.
We started to make our way back to the hostel when we heard Pink Floyd's "Another Brick in the Wall" blaring live from a nearby bar and knew exactly where the Universe wanted us to be...
The band was great, playing more hits by The Police and others I can't remember right now thanks to the whisky bottle Laura thought would be a good idea to order for the table.
I danced with an old man (shocker), and we made our way to the only place still going after the band stopped. It was your typical night club playing typical inst inst beats, but the three of us were the only ones dancing. We danced on regardless until the whisky caught up to us and we treked it back to the hostel.
The next morning was a lot sunnier and we were excited to get back to the falls and go rainbow hunting. The view this day was absolutley mindblowing. It felt as if we were inside a dream in this canyon of greenery and waterfalls and neon birds and rainbows breaking through the blue, blue sky, and all that was missing were mermaids and a couple unicorns.
We made our way down the rocks to the waters edge, a couple hundred feet from the waterfalls and had some maté and meditated, inspired by the wisdom of the falls. By the time we came back down to earth, the sun had set and the park had completely emptied out. The train was no longer running so we made our way back to the park's front entrace walking along the railroad tracks, lit only by the light of the full moon.
Luck was on our side as we happened to be at the falls during the full moon, the only time they offer night tours. Before the tour, we went to the delicious buffet-style dinner offered at the park. This buffet blew Old Country Buffet out of the water-my goodness. I don't think I've ever eaten so much in my life. Martin suggested we go "Roman Style", but I decided just to walk it off instead.
The falls at night were absolutely breathtaking as well. The power and energy of the Devil's Throat fall is unlike anything I've experienced before. WHOLE lotta water right there. I continue to be amazed by mama nature's creations on this trip, this absolutely being one of them.
We then took the bus back to Buenos Aires to meet up with some other EcoYoga Park lovers and celebrate Martin's last night in South America after his 9 month journey...
Lemme go wiiiild
I got the boomtang in my soul
Lemme go wiiiild
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
hare krishna is for lovers
When Laura and I decided our next location was going to be the EcoYoga Park, just outside of Buenos Aires, we looked forward to a couple weeks of meditation, yoga and healthy eating. Little did we know that it was run by strict Hare Krishnas. Or that we would meet some of the most wonderful, crazy characters I had yet to know...
We were greeted warmly by the director, Thakur, a skinny, joyful man with high energy and big teeth. He was always a gracious host, serving us second and third helpings of squash every night in the dinningroom drapped in orange cloths and spotted black with flies.
The Park has a garden filled with vegetables and herbs that contributes to about 80% of the park's delicious vegetarian cooking. We do a lot of weeding and harvesting (both for our kitchen and to sell in town), preparing seedbeds and watering plants. Our jefe Maria is a sassy little 5 foot nothin Bolivian who loves the drama. You barely notice the hole in her mouth where teeth used to be with her vibrant smile and hearty laugh, too big to come out of such a little thing.
I also got a chance to work outside the garden on a mosaic border for a beautiful white dome-shaped temple placed in the middle of the park. This trulli looks like something you would need a magic carpet to get to and serves as our yoga and meditation shelter.
My most memorable day of work however, would be working on the sustainable adobe hut. The outside needed its final layer of -nothing other than- cow dung. Yup, whole lotta poop. Splattering feces on walls seemed like something people do only in insane asylyms, but I was eager to lend a hand.
Luciano, one of the newest members to the Hare Krishna community (and the sexiest), used his bare hands to mix the poopers. (I was still attracted)
At only 18 years old and totally untouchable, all the girls couldn't help but want to touch him.
The Hare Krishnas are totally celebate though. Celebatism as well as vegetarianism, mediation, and chanting are the main focuses of their religion. They don't use garlic or onion in the kitcken because it apparently stimulates the pleasure chakras. and when I spilled something in my room and tried to grab the kitchen mop, one of the Madres told me I couldnt bring that mop into the bedrooms because it has 'different energies'. The men have completely shaved heads, except for a little tuft of pony-tail sticking out of the back of their head and wear safron saris and the women, or the 'madres' wear long, beautiful braids and dress in white saris.
At first I didn't understand the religion because it seems to try and avoid earthly pleasures at every expense (the men even sleep on the floor rather than a bed). I couldnt understand because as far as I am concerned, I am trying to seek out as much pleasure in this life as possible.
However, after witnessing a big festival where a guru from Germany and 200 Hare Krishnas came from all over Argentina to celebrate a wedding and a nameing ceremony, I began to see the joy their religion gives them. They receive their pleasures purely from within and the energy of their God, Krishna. It is a lifestyle that is too strict for me, but I have taken a lot away from them.
For instance, I have decided to become vegetarian. And it was hard at first because meat is effing delcious. Are you kidding me? I love my burgers. But I just started to meditate on all the reasons why I'm doing it before deciding what to eat and its only gotten easier. My body feels alive and full of energy and my concious is a little clearer with mama nature. I'll spare ya'll the rant though. Just don't talk about McChickens or I might start to tweak...
With all this spirituality goin on, we were still able to find us some craziness with the wonderful group of volunteers gathered. First of all there was Renee, a fiesty bald black woman who serves as a never ending form of entertainment. She is full of self-declared "crazy", and we all agree. I have literally peed my pants and shed tears listening to her stories and contagious laughter. Aunty Nee Nee, as we call her out of pure love, serves as quite the contradiction as she is a professional psychotherapist and newly atuned Reiki master on a spiritual journey that started in India; yet also shares maybe a little too much about her sexual deviant episodes and general "freaky-deaky-ness". Ying and mothalovin Yang, right there.
Her classic, " I don't trust myself with a gun- I'm too crazy!!" managed to work with just about anything and we continuously entered such things as "I dont trust myself with a horse/towel/ slave- I'm too crazy!!"
Jonathon, an ex-Cali frat boy we called JT Boomtang, served as her partner in crime, always pointing out just how crazy what she just said was. Half Jewish, half Mexican, all beard, he was a wonderful combination of soul and sexual energy, providing us with some hilarious original songs such as "sexual yoga" and an ode to the most beautiful of the madres at the Park, Govinda. He shed his astronomy knowledge on me, teaching me about Stardust Valley and the Solar Plexius. (Damn my gullibility)
An English bloke from England, George, and his girlfriend Suzanne, are also lovely people. George served as head of the sing-a-longs at our late night 'dark house' parties where we snuck in vino a couple times after the Hare Krishnas went to bed. He was probably the most hilarious man I have ever met with a genius wit- turning every situation hilarious with his constant, insane mind flow. Infamous for his drunken night of quoting "You're so fucking beautiful you don't even know it" repeatedly while trying to make out with everyone, I have a special place in my heart for George. Suzanne is his polar opposite, and probalby his sanity, and the sweetest thing you'd ever meet. With giant feet, she is my sole mate.
Then there was Martin. Bless him. Also from England, Martin was the most chilled out person I've ever met. Dude has taken his fair share of drogas and is basically perma-stoned, with a voice just above a whisper in a monotone voice, occassionaly busting out a good-hearted "BOOMTANG!" to express the joy that resides permanantely in his soul. He always wants to "take it to the next level" and "fly high above the mountains".
Poor guy has a flesh-eating bacteria in his right arm that he refers to lovingly as 'the Beast' and views it as the closest he will get to experiencing a child growing in his womb. He is the gentlest soul I have ever met and I would love to be able to transport myself to a couch with him and his two cats, jermimah and tiddlewinks, whenever I feel a moment of distress.
Then there was Katherine, my soul sister, from England. At only 20 years old, girlfriend is such a wise soul and source of inspiration, helping me to cleanse the body of impurities through fasting, resparking my desire to learn the guitar, how to crochet and to embrace the individualism of my off-tune singing voice.
I am so thankful for each and everyone of these people and the forming of this strange family. They have forever left a mark on my life and I can only hope that our paths will cross again one day.
During the Boomtang Revolution of course.
We were greeted warmly by the director, Thakur, a skinny, joyful man with high energy and big teeth. He was always a gracious host, serving us second and third helpings of squash every night in the dinningroom drapped in orange cloths and spotted black with flies.
The Park has a garden filled with vegetables and herbs that contributes to about 80% of the park's delicious vegetarian cooking. We do a lot of weeding and harvesting (both for our kitchen and to sell in town), preparing seedbeds and watering plants. Our jefe Maria is a sassy little 5 foot nothin Bolivian who loves the drama. You barely notice the hole in her mouth where teeth used to be with her vibrant smile and hearty laugh, too big to come out of such a little thing.
I also got a chance to work outside the garden on a mosaic border for a beautiful white dome-shaped temple placed in the middle of the park. This trulli looks like something you would need a magic carpet to get to and serves as our yoga and meditation shelter.
My most memorable day of work however, would be working on the sustainable adobe hut. The outside needed its final layer of -nothing other than- cow dung. Yup, whole lotta poop. Splattering feces on walls seemed like something people do only in insane asylyms, but I was eager to lend a hand.
Luciano, one of the newest members to the Hare Krishna community (and the sexiest), used his bare hands to mix the poopers. (I was still attracted)
At only 18 years old and totally untouchable, all the girls couldn't help but want to touch him.
The Hare Krishnas are totally celebate though. Celebatism as well as vegetarianism, mediation, and chanting are the main focuses of their religion. They don't use garlic or onion in the kitcken because it apparently stimulates the pleasure chakras. and when I spilled something in my room and tried to grab the kitchen mop, one of the Madres told me I couldnt bring that mop into the bedrooms because it has 'different energies'. The men have completely shaved heads, except for a little tuft of pony-tail sticking out of the back of their head and wear safron saris and the women, or the 'madres' wear long, beautiful braids and dress in white saris.
At first I didn't understand the religion because it seems to try and avoid earthly pleasures at every expense (the men even sleep on the floor rather than a bed). I couldnt understand because as far as I am concerned, I am trying to seek out as much pleasure in this life as possible.
However, after witnessing a big festival where a guru from Germany and 200 Hare Krishnas came from all over Argentina to celebrate a wedding and a nameing ceremony, I began to see the joy their religion gives them. They receive their pleasures purely from within and the energy of their God, Krishna. It is a lifestyle that is too strict for me, but I have taken a lot away from them.
For instance, I have decided to become vegetarian. And it was hard at first because meat is effing delcious. Are you kidding me? I love my burgers. But I just started to meditate on all the reasons why I'm doing it before deciding what to eat and its only gotten easier. My body feels alive and full of energy and my concious is a little clearer with mama nature. I'll spare ya'll the rant though. Just don't talk about McChickens or I might start to tweak...
With all this spirituality goin on, we were still able to find us some craziness with the wonderful group of volunteers gathered. First of all there was Renee, a fiesty bald black woman who serves as a never ending form of entertainment. She is full of self-declared "crazy", and we all agree. I have literally peed my pants and shed tears listening to her stories and contagious laughter. Aunty Nee Nee, as we call her out of pure love, serves as quite the contradiction as she is a professional psychotherapist and newly atuned Reiki master on a spiritual journey that started in India; yet also shares maybe a little too much about her sexual deviant episodes and general "freaky-deaky-ness". Ying and mothalovin Yang, right there.
Her classic, " I don't trust myself with a gun- I'm too crazy!!" managed to work with just about anything and we continuously entered such things as "I dont trust myself with a horse/towel/ slave- I'm too crazy!!"
Jonathon, an ex-Cali frat boy we called JT Boomtang, served as her partner in crime, always pointing out just how crazy what she just said was. Half Jewish, half Mexican, all beard, he was a wonderful combination of soul and sexual energy, providing us with some hilarious original songs such as "sexual yoga" and an ode to the most beautiful of the madres at the Park, Govinda. He shed his astronomy knowledge on me, teaching me about Stardust Valley and the Solar Plexius. (Damn my gullibility)
An English bloke from England, George, and his girlfriend Suzanne, are also lovely people. George served as head of the sing-a-longs at our late night 'dark house' parties where we snuck in vino a couple times after the Hare Krishnas went to bed. He was probably the most hilarious man I have ever met with a genius wit- turning every situation hilarious with his constant, insane mind flow. Infamous for his drunken night of quoting "You're so fucking beautiful you don't even know it" repeatedly while trying to make out with everyone, I have a special place in my heart for George. Suzanne is his polar opposite, and probalby his sanity, and the sweetest thing you'd ever meet. With giant feet, she is my sole mate.
Then there was Martin. Bless him. Also from England, Martin was the most chilled out person I've ever met. Dude has taken his fair share of drogas and is basically perma-stoned, with a voice just above a whisper in a monotone voice, occassionaly busting out a good-hearted "BOOMTANG!" to express the joy that resides permanantely in his soul. He always wants to "take it to the next level" and "fly high above the mountains".
Poor guy has a flesh-eating bacteria in his right arm that he refers to lovingly as 'the Beast' and views it as the closest he will get to experiencing a child growing in his womb. He is the gentlest soul I have ever met and I would love to be able to transport myself to a couch with him and his two cats, jermimah and tiddlewinks, whenever I feel a moment of distress.
Then there was Katherine, my soul sister, from England. At only 20 years old, girlfriend is such a wise soul and source of inspiration, helping me to cleanse the body of impurities through fasting, resparking my desire to learn the guitar, how to crochet and to embrace the individualism of my off-tune singing voice.
I am so thankful for each and everyone of these people and the forming of this strange family. They have forever left a mark on my life and I can only hope that our paths will cross again one day.
During the Boomtang Revolution of course.
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