My International Travels

Below you will find copies of my passports over the years that chronicle my international travels as well as changes in my appearance.

Entries include Venezuela, Curacao, Trinidad and Colombia.

 

Entries include South Africa, Venezuela, Brazil and Cayman Islands.

Entries include Gibraltar, Spain, United Kingdom, Argentina, Portugal, Brazil, Peru and Mexico.

Entries include Mexico, Netherlands, Costa Rica, Bolivia, Chile, Ecuador, Venezuela, the Dominican Republic, Argentina, Uruguay, Germany, Portugal and Ireland.

Entries include Chile, Hong Kong, United Kingdom, Macau, New Zealand, Nicaragua, Spain, Hungry, Austria, Czech Republic, Germany and France.

 

I’m A Westerner

No, I don’t think that I am a cowboy, but rather that I was born and raised in the western part of the USA and feel most at home here.

It’s not as though I have not experienced other parts of our country. I have lived in both the Mid-West (Nebraska) and New England and travelled extensively in all other areas.

Here are some of the things that come to mind that differs the west from other parts of our country.

* Wide open spaces with mountains often in the distant view. We have plains and deserts, low humidity and, compared with eastern, southern and mid-western states, few insects.

* Although regional accents are diminishing, people in the west talk like me. Folks elsewhere speak differently.

* Our cities are new and less crowded and the buildings are modern and bright.

* People here look fitter than in the Mid-West, East and South and we smoke a lot less.

* When I go to a sporting event here, I support the local team. There are always a lot of newer arrivals who come out to cheer for their old home team from wherever they came. Some make themselves difficult to like.

* People here tend to move about more than the rest of the country and, regrettably, generations often live far apart.

* In much of the west Mexico and its culture is a constant presence.

* Descendants of European emigrants do not live in ethnic neighborhoods here.

* In my opinion St Louis is the western most of the eastern cities and Kansas City is the eastern most of the western cities.

* My daughter lives in Massachusetts and I enjoy visiting her often, but New England is half way between here and Europe in more ways than distance.

* The West, being newer certainly doesn’t have as much history and perhaps as not much culture as elsewhere.

Summing up, we are a little different here and it feels like home.

Boulder, Colorado March 28, 2014.

France April 17 to 25, 2014

Cindy and I spent four days in Paris and an additional three in Toulouse, France. We stayed at a Marriott south of the Latin Quarter while in the capital city and took their excellent Metro system to see all the major sites; the Eiffel Tower, Arc de Triomphe, Champs-Elysee, Notre Dame, Museo de D’Orsay, etc. As it was Easter weekend (they take Monday as a holiday as well), the crowds were huge so we only waited in line for the D’Orsay and saw the rest from outside. We did not even attempt Versailles and the Louvre.

The days of aspiring artists and writers like Hemingway, flocking to Paris after World War I because the city was inexpensive and the living was easy, are long gone, as we found everything pricey, even in the out of the way shops and restaurants. Long past as well is the reputation from the days of De Gaulle of Parisians for being rude to Americans. We were universally treated with respect and kindness.

From Paris we took the bullet train down to southern France and spent three nights in the delightful center of Toulouse. The town was full of wonderful buildings and gardens as well as charming plazas and squares with lively outdoor cafés filled with happy, talkative patrons. Everyone however appears to smoke.

From Toulouse we took a day train trip down to the old fortress town of Carcassonne. I had recently read a novel that took place in the 1200’s when the walls were breached by the northern French with the support of the Catholic Church, so was interested in seeing where the action had taken place.

Cindy dutifully took pictures and kept the faithful at home fully up to date on our big adventure with Facebook entries. And, we walked and walked, good training for the Bolder Boulder next month.

 

It was a good trip for both of us, especially Cindy who was able to fully get away from work responsibilities.

Jalapa Valley, Nueva Segovia, Nicaragua

March 24 to April 1, 2014

Five friends from the Rotary Club of Boulder Valley, Maud and John Kenyon, Bart Swanson, Travis Ramos, and me, had a busy and fulfilling week in Nicaragua. We went there for both the adventure and to check into clean water projects that Travis’ company, Second Mile Water, was organizing in the small pueblos around the city of Jalapa.

Jalapa is an agricultural center (tobacco and coffee) in the mountainous highlands of northern Nicaragua, just south of the Honduran border. Many internal immigrants are attracted to the area for the field labor jobs on offer. They have established ever expanding settlements of block-built homes on free or very inexpensive land along the paved roads of the valley. These homesteads often lack basic services such as access to potable water. Until a well-designed system (costing $35,000 to $60,000 for smaller villages of 500 or so inhabitants) is in place, they either access contaminated water from local streams or similar “grey” water from shallow wells.

Second Mile Water’s objective is to build the appropriate system, either with deep wells or water sourced high in the mountains, with funds lent from the company to the villages as well as with additional monies and labor contributed by the communities themselves.

Once the project is completed, all serviced homes are charged a monthly fee. Most of that which is collected is set aside in a community controlled account designed to pay for maintenance and repair of the infrastructure of the project. This is why the company is called Second Mile Water. The first mile is to construct the system. The second part, the on-going payments, are to keep it running. This is the most difficult part and hence the name Second Mile. A percentage of the monthly payments is sent back to 2MW ostensively to pay back the loan, but actually it will be used to fund future projects.

We met with Rotary Club of Somoto, who had been the local partner for the first project 2MW completed in the community of Pasmata, to secure that club’s blessing going forward. Later we met with a club in Ocotal, which is closer to Jalapa and had recently been restarted. Ocotal was very interested in participating as well and sent one of their members, Francisco, to Jalapa to meet with us and potential new clients.

Here are the communities we met with-

Pasmata: Their new mountain-collected, gravity-fed water system is up and running. We worked with them to put together a project completion celebration party that was held on Sunday. Most of the village children came as well as a good number of mothers and a few fathers. Speakers spoke, food was served, loud music was played and a ribbon was cut. Travis played with the kids from start to finish.

El Bosque: Their deep water well has been dug. They now need to have an 8 meter water tower built, install a pump and have a network of pipe laid to connect the homes. We met with their water committee and a Maestro de Obras to discuss the building of the tower.

El Trapiche: Just getting started. We met with their water committee and hammered out the details of a contract that 80% of the residents will have to sign to get started. They want to get going before the rainy season, but Travis told them that he had to secure more funds before he could commit.

Travis ran the show, John was a Pied Piper with his camera, Maud interacted with everyone, Bart offered building advice and I served as interpreter, sometimes better than others.

 

 

Wellington, New Zealand Rugby 7’s

The document below was written by David Cunningham chronicling our trip to New Zealand earlier this year.

Jan 27th – Feb 3rd, 2013

Sunday Jan 27th – Charley Mallon and I arrived in Auckland about 7:15 am and went out and got our rent car. Drove to our hotel in downtown Auckland and got there about 9 am (too early to get a room). Did some email, and then walked to the tower and went up and looked at the views. We had a nice mussel lunch at the Occidental Bar on Vulcan St and went back and got checked into our room. Took a short nap and went on a pub crawl around Auckland. After several beers we found a Mediterranean restaurant, had a crusty bread appetizer (beet dip and hummus) and had a lamb dinner, managed to stay up until about 10 pm.

Monday Jan 28th – left before 9 am (didn’t want to pay another $25 to park) and headed to the Coramandel Peninsula (north east). We stopped for breakfast on the way and drove around the peninsula (narrow and curvy). Had pies for lunch and found a hotel in Rotura (a Quality Inn) that had Wi-Fi (after a fashion).

Tuesday Jan 29th – drove to the Waitomo Glow Worm Caves, very cool walk/boat tour (hand pulled), and then drove down to Taupo and stayed at the Adelphia Hotel, and did some email. Settled in for a big Indian combo dinner, was way too much.

Wednesday Jan 30th – drove around Lake Taupo and then took a cow path to Wanganui (20 – 30 one-lane bridges, unpaved part of the way, 1 one-lane tunnel). Stayed at the Grand Hotel downtown (did some email), ate dinner at the pub in the hotel, and had beers at two or three places within walking distance.

Thursday Jan 31st – drove into Wellington, stopping at Paraparaumu to check out the train station, schedule a cab while we were there (to take us to the airport). We checked out our hotel in Wellington (and did some email) and picked up our tickets to the 7’s matches. We drove around the bay (went by the stadium), and then drove back north looking for a hotel. We wandered around quite a bit and finally ended up in Porirua.

Friday Feb 1st – drove back into Wellington, dropped off our luggage at the hotel (did some email), returned the rental car, and then got some breakfast. Headed to the stadium and got there about noon and stayed until the last game was over about 10:30, managed to get some beers, pies, corn dogs, burgers, etc. The weather was nice warm in the sun and cool in the shade, we had enough warm gear though as we learned the first year in San Diego. The US lost to Spain (what’s up with that?), were ahead but tied England (the eventually tourney winner), and lost to NZ. It was a cross between Halloween and Mardis Gras in the stadium, with most folks in costume partying and not paying much attention to the games. After the last game we headed back to the hotel as my cold was getting me down, got there about midnight.

Saturday Feb 2nd – got up, had breakfast, did email and wandered around a bit (shopping). Walked to the stadium and took it a little easier, but still managed to have brats and pies. The US lost to Fiji (and played bad), Kenya beat NZ in OT to make the finals, but then lost to England. We left about 9:30 and walked downtown, lots of folks out and about so ended up getting Whoppers and beers at the Welsh Dragon.

Sunday Feb 3rd – got up and did email (our free 20 minutes), went and got breakfast, ended up in pub where they had the Ireland/Wales game on (Ireland won) to kill some time. Went and checked out at 11 am, and went back to the pub to watch the end of the game. Walked to the train station, luggage and all, bought our tickets and found a pub that had the Scotland/England game on (England won big). Got on our train, left at 1:14 pm to Paraparamumu, 40 minute ride, and our taxi was waiting to take us to the airport, just like clock-work. Our return flight to SFO was early so we managed to get on the earlier flight back to DEN, very nice even though we had to give up our first class seats. Got home in time to watch the second half of the Super Bowl (I can’t believe the Ravens won!) Great trip, sorry I had to come back early as I would have liked to have spent some time seeing the south island – next time I guess.

Visiting Tim While He was in the Peace Corps- Second Trip

Saturday, November 15, 1997  (11:34 am)

I am sitting on a bench overlooking a fenced-in pond stocked with tropical wading birds. It is hot, so I sat in the shade. Yesterday morning when I got up to spend a couple of hours in my Boulder, Colorado office before I left, I had to shovel six inches of snow off the sidewalk.

I’m at the zoo in Santa Cruz, one of the ways I plan to spend the day here in Bolivia’s second largest city. I expected a raw, thrown together town in

the jungle. Instead, it is very clean and well-organized, situated in a verdant savanna. The zoo, a green oasis in the concrete city, is the best I have seen South America.I arrived here this morning, leaving Denver 17 hours ago. I feel pretty well, as I was able to get 4 to 5 hours of sleep on the leg from Miami to La Paz. Tim will be coming in on Lloyd Aero Boliviano this evening from Cochabamba. I will join his flight as it continues on for another two hours to Manaus, Brazil, in the heart of the Amazon! Between now and them, I will see the rest of the zoo, have a long lunch and perhaps visit a flea market. The only negative is that my 26 lb. pack/suitcase, which I dare not let out of my sight, gets heavier every time I pick it up.

Monday, November 17

A lot has happened since my last entry. I never did make it to the flea market but rather spent most of the day at the zoo,

Santa Cruz, Bolivia Zoo

including taking a nap on the grass under a tree, I decided to return early to the airport but, just down the street, I came across a Canadian bar where I found some La Batt’s beer and English conversation. Tim’s plane came in at 7:30 p.m. and we just were able to extract his checked baggage in time to make the departing 8:15 p.m. flight to Manaus. On the flight Tim started to tell me about how he had to rush around at the last moment to obtain his entry visa for Brazil. This was quite interesting to me as I wasn’t aware of the need for one. I had no choice but to stay on the plane and try to get through passport control. pleading stupidity, which of course was just the case.

Well, even though we had a sympathetic officer who appeared to be willing to look the other way, someone else got involved who claimed she did not want “to take the responsibility” and I was denied entry. We had to get back on the airplane which was continuing on to Caracas. While the airline was obliged to give me free passage, I had to put more than $700 on a credit card so that Tim could accompany me. The ticket agent really tried to put it to me in charging that much, but I had the last laugh. That charge somehow never showed up in my bill, ha! All this occurred around midnight after a long day.

We finally got to Caracas around 3:30 a.m. and took a taxi to a cheap hotel nearby. We awoke just before noon and, after stopping at the airport to cash money orders and to get out bearings, we took a taxi up the mountains to Caracas, which is situated 900 meters above sea level.

We checked into the hotel Las Americas (Where I had stayed many years before when I first arrive in Venezuela with the Peace Corps in 1966) and spent the afternoon walking the Sabana Grande and eating a fine seafood meal. I am determined not to let this “change in plans” ruin the trip. We spent much of today, Monday, in a very disorganized travel agency attempting to arrange a trip to the Venezuelan Highland’s resort of Canaima, near Salto Angel. Also I am having difficulty making my cash card work in the appropriate machines here and have wandered all over in an attempt to cash travelers checks.

View of the tepuis from Campamento Canaima

Tuesday, November 18

It’s 10:31 a.m. and I’m sitting next to Tim on an Avensa flight to Canaima. When we got to the Caracas Airport this morning, two hours before the flight as required, we were hustled into

Tim in Campamento Ucaima

signing up for a full-day boat/jeep tour from the camp to the base of Salto Angel. The cost was an additional $125 each, which seemed a little steep, but when are we going to get to this part of the world again?

Last night, after finally picking up the last part of our ticket package from the travel agency at 5:00 p.m. and finding a money exchange house to cash some money orders, we took the “Metro” to Plaza Bolivar. This is a more upscale part of Caracas and the statue of the “Libertador” astride a horse was impressive. There was an orchestra warming up when we arrived, so that we decided to take a long walk and return to their music. Unfortunately, even after an hour they still hadn’t started and, as were tired from the frustrations of the day, we took the Metro back to our station of Chacaito and turned in.

Wednesday, November 19

View from Canaima

It is a small world. The Canaima lodge we have arrived at was founded by “Jungle Rudy,” a Dutchman whom I knew in Puerto Ordaz thirty years ago. In fact, he lived with me for a while when he was down on his luck. Ending up in the resort he founded was purely by chance.  Also, one of the guides at the camp attended Fe y Alegria in Puerto Ordaz where I taught in the Peace Corps, although well after I had left. He tells me that the Sisters Teresa and Sacramento, two nuns that I knew, are still there.

We took an afternoon trip to Salto Sapo the first day. the waterfall was broad and we were able to walk behind it.

Today we were picked up at 5:15 a.m. for our trip up the river in a dugout canoe to Salto Angel. There were 16 total in our group

Goin’ up river to see Salto Angel

divided up into two boats. All the Venezuelans were excited about a professional baseball player, Omar Vizquel, and his wife being among us. The trip up river took most of the morning and we finished it off with a long hike through the jungle to the base of the world’s highest waterfall, 1005 meters. After the clouds finally parted, we were treated to a spectacular view. The day was memorable and goes a long way towards replacing that which we had expected from a visit to the Amazon.

Friday, November 21

Tim and I are sitting in an English pub called La Reina Victoria in Quito, Ecuador. Yesterday we left Canaima at noon and spent the day traveling to Quito where we arrived at 9:30 p.m. We took a taxi to the hotel Real Audiencia in the Centro Colonial of the city. We spent this morning on a walking tour through that part of town where they have attempted to maintain the original building facades and character of the early XVII century.  As we could find no place to exchange travelers checks or a travel agency to purchase tickets for our planned flight to the coast, we took a cab to the “new city.”

This part of town is much more modern, with a lot of European-looking faces on the street. However, we were well reminded that we are still in Latin American as it took one-half day to organize our airplane tickets through an agency, and then we really didn’t get what we had been promised. The Quitenos are very friendly and the city, which almost strides the equator at 9,300′, has a pleasant climate with green hillsides and palm trees in the city plazas. Lots of cars, and of course, lots of evidence of poverty, but overall, the inhabitants appear healthy and happy, with a fairly good level of prosperity.

Jungle trek to see Salto Angel

Salto Angel through the clouds

Sunday, November 23

Yesterday morning Tim and I got up, checked out of the hotel and took a taxi up to the tortured looking statue of the Virgin on Panecillo. This “sugar lump” hill gives a wonderful panoramic view of much of Quito.

Just after mid-day we flew from Quito to Guayaquil on the coast and Ecuador’s largest city. We then took a bus about 110 K’s north to the fishing village/resort area of Playas. The heat and humidity of this place is overwhelming.

After checking into a mid-level Las Redes Hotel, we walked the beach, which was populated by late day bathers and a long row of fishing boats. Our room was sweltering last night and while trying to let in some cool air we just invited in a mosquito party. Today we moved to a better hotel, El Tucano, and got a room with air conditioning. We now sit beside the pool, reading and contemplating what to do with the rest of the day.

Monday, November 24, 1997

We decided to leave Playas early. However , it rained all last night (El Nino) and we were afraid the bus would not be able to  make it back to

Beach at Playas, Equador

Guayaquil. We saw a number of flooded out homes and intersections with more than a foot of water. Eventually we made it to the airport just to find the whole place flooded with everyone who could perched on any elevated surface.

Tuesday, November 25

Flooded Guayaquil airport

By good luck we were able to exchange our Quito return tickets on SAETA, which was  closed down, for TAME which still had occasional flights. We arrived mid-day to a drier, yet very overcast, Quito. A very friendly taxi driver took us up the central valley to the indian arts and crafts town of Otavalo about 100 K’s north.

The driver talked to us of history, current politics and took several side trips to show us sites of interest. We looked at several hotels in Otavalo and decided upon the Ali Shungu, which was highly praised in the Lonely Planet guidebook. We especially like gathering around the fireplace. We find this pueblo very charming with friendly Indians who still wear their region’s costumes on a daily basis. Everything possible to be made of wool is for sale. Quality is good and prices are very low.

A favorite photo. Notice the “LATITUD 0′ 0′ 0′ ” banner in the background, we’re standing on the equator with my pant legs still wet from being in the Guayaquil airport on the coast hours before.

Our friendly taxi driver and me somewhere between Quito and Otavalo.

Thursday, November 27 (Thanksgiving)

Tim and I are sitting on bus in Otavalo’s “Terminal Terrestre” waiting for it to fill up so that we can leave for Quito. We have spent these past few days relaxing in this pleasant town.

Warm and cozy in front of the fireplace at Ali Shungu in Otavalo

Disappointingly, we continue to suffer from the effects of “El Nino,” as we have been unable to see the surrounding, snow-covered volcanoes due to the cloud cover.

The quality of goods sold here by the  Indian cooperatives is outstanding. You can buy the heavy white wool sweaters. so evident in Ireland, for around $6.00! Tim purchased several items as gifts for his Bolivian Friends and a Fedora hat to complete his traditional dance outfit. I bought several small paintings, some shawls and two sweaters.

Central Market, Otavalo, Equador

We arrived in Quito around mid-day and took  a room at  the San Sebastian Hotel. This is a first-class facility with all the amenities, so that we were able to enjoy a traditional American Thanksgiving afternoon, watching the Dallas Cowboys play football. This evening, after a feint-hearted attempt at finding a traditional turkey dinner, we went to Las Redes restaurant and had a magnificent shellfish feast.

Friday, November 28, 1997

I’m on my way to Miami and then home. Unfortunately, one leg of Tim’s scheduled return flight had been canceled, so he had to spend another day in Quito. This was quite upsetting to him, as tomorrow is the first day of a weekend fiesta in Tarata that he “could not miss.” He is part of a dance group and doesn’t want them to feel he puts traveling above participating with them. Additionally, he has invited friends down for the event.

I was sad to leave him and sadder still to see him so disappointed in not being able to meet his obligations. However, all in all, it was quite an adventure and a pleasure to spend two weeks with my son.

Visiting the Gorillas in Rwanda

My friend Monnie Biety shared the following wonderful story with me:

 

Monnie and Agashya

In May of this year, I spent 2 weeks working in Rwanda. Most of us are familiar with this small African country for 2 reasons, the genocide in 1994 and the mountain gorillas introduced to the world by Dian Fossey. I was lucky enough to visit the gorillas in Volcanoes National Park where Dian Fossey did her research. The park is about 2 ½ hours by car from the capital city of Kigali. It is in a very mountainous and lush area of the country surrounded by dormant volcanoes. The park sits on the border of Rwanda, Uganda and the Democratic Republic of Congo.

In order to visit the gorillas you have to purchase a permit. I was able to purchase one at the last minute only because it was rainy season. At any other time of year, there is normally a 6 month to 1 year waiting list. In the park there are 20 groups of gorillas, 10 groups are exclusively for research and the other 10 groups receive visitors every day of the year. In total, there are less than 800 mountain gorillas in the world!

Eighty people are allowed to visit the gorillas each day. When you arrive at the park, the rangers divide the visitors up into groups of eight and each group is assigned 3 rangers and 2-3 trackers. You then set off hiking to find your assigned group of gorillas. This sounds like searching for a needle in a haystack but it was all very organized.  The trackers locate your assigned group of gorillas early in the morning and then the rangers guide you to their location.

I visited the Agashya group. Agashya is the silverback or mature male and the leader of the group. He weighed 450 pounds. In the mountain gorilla world, it is the silverback that holds the group together. There were also 20 adults and adolescents in the group and 6 babies. We found our group busily eating bamboo, their favorite food. We were surrounded by the gorillas; they were up in the bamboo, on the forest floor with us and just going about their daily life. They acknowledged us but we didn’t appear to bother them. The rangers told us that we could not get closer than 7 meters. But luckily, to enhance the experience, the gorillas weren’t aware of that rule. They approached us and moved freely about us. In fact, one ran right into my knee. After you locate your group of gorillas, you are allowed to spend 1 hour with them. It was the most amazing and memorable 1 hour in the bamboo forest, in the middle of Africa, spending time with 27 mountain gorillas roaming freely, gazing at me with soulful, gentle and intelligent eyes and nothing between me and them but bamboo!

Visiting Tim while He was in the Peace Corps – First Trip

In 1996 my son Timothy followed in his father’s footsteps and joined the Peace Corps. In the spring of that year he headed off  for three months of “in-country” training to prepare for a two-year assignment in that high altitude, South American country. Having been a volunteer myself 28 years earlier in Venezuela, and later obtaining a degree in Latin American Studies, I was looking forward to visiting him down there once he got settled. Here is an account of my first visit.

Thursday, September 26, 1996

Tim and me at lunch first day in Cochabamba

I left work at mid-day to catch a 2:45 p.m. flight to Dallas. From there I will go to Miami and finally to La Paz, Bolivia where I will arrive at 6:30 a.m. local time. Tim has a ticket waiting for me at the LAB office in the La Paz airport that will take me to his nearest airport, Cochabamba, later in the morning. I have two bags weighing 90 lbs. and about 30 lbs. more in a backpack filled with gifts that Tim requested, so I am concerned about getting everything through customs.

Friday, September 27

I am sitting in the La Paz airport awaiting the departure of my flight to Cochabamba. I dozed off a little last night, but really got very little sleep. However, I feel pretty well right now, we’ll see how it goes when the adrenaline wears off.Customs was not a problem, as they only gave my large bag a cursory look. So far the Bolivians are very attentive and helpful, more so than I have noted in other Latin countries.  My heavy bags finally caught up with me as I had to pay a 41 Bolivianos ($8.00) charge for 20 kilos of extra weight.

Anyway, I arrive in Cochabamba at 9:30 a.m. and was greeted by a very happy and skinny Tim. We checked into the three-star Empeador Hotel, where Tim’s Peace Corps group had been booked when they started training. We spent the afternoon touring the town and climbed a nearby

The “Cristo Rey” statue

hill on which the “Cristo Rey” statue is located. This piece is a copy of the one found in Rio, but the local organizers made sure it was a few inches taller. From the top of the hill we had an excellent view of the town and the mountains beyond, including 16,000” Tunari, which Tim had earlier climbed. The steep ascent left both my legs shaking, while little kids scampered up and down with little apparent effort.

Later we visited Tim’s Cochabamba weekend digs and got an early start on what proved to be a great evening at a Peace Corps Volunteer party with beer, cacha, visits to various bars, beer, coca leaves and great conversations. It only took me a short time to forget all the years that had passed since my service, I was back in the Peace Corps again. Aside from seeing Tim, this may have been the highlight of my trip. I finally stumbled

View of Cochabamba, Bolivia 1996

back to my room around 3:00 a.m.

Saturday, September 28

Tim came by at 8:00 a.m. to pick me up to see Cochabamba’s “Cancha”, their open air Saturday market. After some discussion and considered appraisal of our physical condition, we decided to blow off the Market and head down on a “trufi” to Tim’s work site, Tarata.

Before leaving, however, we decided to buy plane tickets to leave Monday morning for Chile. We opted to go there my first week down, as there are a lot of fiestas happening the second week in some of the Bolivian towns we are planning to visit.

After the 45 minute trufi ride we arrived in Tarata. The pueblo consists of

Peace Corps Party in Cochabamba

cobbled streets with adobe walls. As we are still in the dry season, there is a lot of dust. The pueblo is exceptionally clean and many of the younger people call out “Timo, como estas” as we walk by.After a well deserved nap, we took a walk in the campo to appreciate the beautiful, Southern California type landscape. In the evening I tried my first chicha, a corn and wheat liquor that reminds me of limeade with alcohol. Back to Tim’s room for an early night.

Sunday, September 29

After a tough night for me on Tim’s hard mattress, we got up for coffee and a breakfast roll and a tour of Tarata given by Tim’s

Tim with some of the peach farmers he worked with in Tarata

good buddy, Jaime, the town tour director.Jaime was very well prepared and we were soon joined by a high school group down from Cochabamba to see the historical sites. It seems that Tarata was a very important agriculture center for most of Bolivia’s history and produced at least three, and maybe as many as five, presidents. There were also many other historical figures that ran the gambit from Chaco War heroes, modern-day music composers and artist. Also, there is a lot more to the crumbling building architecture than originally meets the eye. The town now is in general decline as events have passed it by.In the afternoon we returned to Cochabamba and Tim’s apartment there. We were joined for a good Italian dinner by one of Tim’s roommates,

The “campo” in Tarata

Cathy, and after a return visit to Tio Lucas’ (the site of the previous Peace Corps party), we headed back for a short night’s sleep. We had to be at the airport at 5:00 a.m. to be first in line, as we are heading for Santiago, Chile tomorrow and one of the tickets is standby.

Monday, September 30

Not a good day!

I was sick from when we left Tim’s apartment through the flights to La Paz and Santiago and all night in a Santiago downtown hotel.

Tuesday, October 1, 1996

I’m still not feeling well today. We took a walk around central Santiago in the morning. The city appears more European than

Tim’s Tarata digs

South American. I was especially impressed by how well the people were dressed, especially the men in well-tailored, modern suits of the latest fashion.We caught a Tur Bus for Vina del Mar at midday and took a two-hour trip down the coast through some beautiful country. Unfortunately, I slept most of the way.

We checked into the four-star O’Higgans Hotel and took a walk through a part of town to the beach. Locals say the ocean water is polluted (don’t eat raw fish), but it looked pretty food to us, especially to Tim who has been in landlocked Bolivia for nine months

Tim’s room in Tarata

Tim asked an American girl, who was  working at the hotel, out for drinks and dinner. I joined them for the drinks (Pisco Sours = too sweet!) and went back to the hotel for an early night.

Wednesday, October 2

The money (Peso) here in Chile is very confusing. Inflation has driven the value down to the point that all the prices are in 1,000’s. 1,000 pesos = $2.50.

We had a relaxed day today, as we spent most of our time walking around town. We visited the Vergara Estate which has been turned into a museum and public gardens. Unfortunately, the house/museum was closed due to a public employee strike, but the gardens were extensive and well-kept.

Thursday, October 3

We took the early Tur Bus back to Santiago and checked back into the Metropoli Hotel. We spent the afternoon walking around

Concha y Toro Winery, Chile’s largest

the central city and took in a movie, “The Usual Suspects“. As I said earlier , Santiago has a very European feel. People appear healthy, prosperous and move with a purpose. Service is the best south of San Diego, California and there are not nearly as many beggars as there are in Boulder. We made Tim’s evening by going to the “Phone Booth Pub” and having some Guinness beer. He is taking one of the cans back to Bolivia to open on his next birthday.

Friday, October 4

We took a taxi out to Pisque, about 45 miles south of Santiago, to visit Chile’s largest winery, Concha y Toro. It drizzled the whole time, so the tour was limited to their warehouse and tasting room. We were a little put off by the fact that they charged for wine samples, but it was interesting.

We had a great seafood meal back in Santiago at the Mercado Central (no raw seafood!) and caught the evening return flight to La Paz. La Paz was beautifully lit up as we rode in from the airport to check into the Republic Hotel.

Bus station in La Paz

The city is old and worn down. Lots of traffic congestion and business suits are hard to find. The population is heavily Indian and moves at its own pace. However, the Spanish is much easier for us to understand here than in Chile.

Saturday, October 5

Tough night in a bed that collapsed around me, We spent too much time this morning buying airline ticket and finding breakfast. We also found a new hotel, as I could not spend another night in the old “cama.”

We ran into “Big” Tim, one of the guys from last Friday’s Peace Corps party in Cochabamba and have promised to meet up with him this evening.

Spent much of the day walking around La Paz. The city s in a magnificent setting, surrounded by dramatic, snow-covered

Lake Titcaca

mountain peaks that reach over 20,000′. However, it is not as attractive close up. Planning has been haphazard, roads, sidewalks, everything is either broken or under repair. Traffic is loud, stinky and combative. The people are good-natured, as they swarm across the roads and through markets.This evening we hooked up with a number of volunteers and had dinner at a very good, moderately priced Italian restaurant, Prontos. From there we headed out for a night of Cacha (some sort of dice game the volunteers learned from the Bolivians), beer, drunk locals, coca leaves and celebrating the other Tim’s 28th  birthday.

Sunday, October 6

We got up fairly early to catch a bus for the four-hour ride from La Paz to Copacabana, an historic site on lake Titicaca, the highest lake in the world. I got my first real view of the Altiplano, as the ride took us past camposinos breaking up the dusty, hard soil using teams of oxen and small town festivals (it’s Sunday) involving brass bands and dancers in their finest.

Bolivian marketplace

As we did not have enough time to take a boat out to the Isla del Sol (traditionally the birthplace of the Inca race), we made do with getting to know Copacabana and it’s elaborate Moorish style church. The lake water is very clean and a turquoise blue. We had an excellent lunch of lake trout and headed back for the ride home and an early night.

Monday, October 7

Up early again and off th La Paz’s airport for a trip down to what is supposed to be Bolivia’s most beautiful city, Sucre.

In my opinion the town lives up to its reputation. It has a very Mediterranean look and feel, with white-painted buildings and red tile roofs. The municipal buildings are large, ornate and well-kept up. There is a very appealing central plaza, many parks and a large European-looking population.

We have run into as many German speakers here as we did in La Paz. For some reason this country appears to be a major

Che, the revolution lives in Sucre, Bolivia

destination spot for these travelers.We also continue to run into what we are told is a common problem, no one has and change; coin or bills. I don’t know why, but almost every business transaction, from taxis to restaurants, involves requests for smaller denominations or the running off to neighboring businesses for “cambio.”

Anyway, back to Sucre. We took a walk around town and of course once again ran into the local volunteers. We ended up having dinner with a few and watching Monday Night Football at a bar with cable.

Tuesday, October 8

Cerro Rico, Potosi, Bolivia

Had a relaxed day. Spent a good deal of time with my book, Lost World, while sitting at the hostel or in the central plaza. We did take a hike up a hill for a view or the entire city and toured the Textiles Indigneas Museo.

The latter was very interesting display of the different types of cloth, weaving, designs and colors used by the various groups of indians in the Sucre area.

We watched Bolivia lose 0-1 to Uruguay this evening in a boring futbol match. The Bolivians appeared to to expect to lose.

Wednesday, October 9

Went back to the Textile Museum early and bought a beautiful piece of

Our guide helping us buy “explosivos” dynamite as gifts for the miners we will encounter in Cerro Rico

work. Now, what am I gong to do with it?We took a bus for the four-hour ride to Potosí. As Potosí is the highest city in the world (13,300′), the bus climbed most of the way. I was interested to see that once we gained this altitude, which is well above tree line in Colorado, there were not only trees, but the land is intensely cultivated for field crops (is all has to do with proximity to the equator).

We were able to tour their main church, Iglesia de la Merced, which had been built in pre-independence times for Spanish (white) only worship. We also had the opportunity to experience a wonderful tour of the Casa Moneda, given by an excellent guide. This is where the silver from Potosí was turned into Spanish Reales from 1545, and into Bolivian Soles and Bolivianos, after independence. The “Casa” continued to produce coins until 1909.

Thursday, October 10

Had another tough night, as sleep is difficult for those not used to this altitude. We found ourselves awakened often, gasping for air. We took a tour of the infamous Cerro Rico, where eight million Indian and African slaves died while extracting silver from 1545 to 1875.  Conditions are said to have improved greatly since the miners’ rebellion of 1952 wrested control of the mines from the hands of the few owners.

Tour group for the Cerro

We started the tour in the shopping area where the independent or “Colectivo” miners purchase their necessities: dynamite, cord, coca leaves, cigarettes, alcohol, etc. We were encouraged to purchase some of the items as gifts for the miners we would find working. First time I ever bought a stick of dynamite!

We proceeded with a German couple and our guide to the hill where we arrived at a hole in the rock that served as the mine entrance, we donned helmets and rain coats and, carrying lanterns, entered into the low-ceiling passageway where we were shown figures of Cristo and “Tio” (the Devil) to whom the miners pay homage,

With the high altitude, my cold and the low, narrow space, I asked to wait

Bolivian silver miner

outside for the rest of the time the group would spend underground. I passed the next two hours baking in the sun on the side of the hill, while the rest of the group dispensed their gifts and observed the miners at work. Thank God I wasn’t born into their situation.The average miner works 12 to 16 at day, six days a week. They typically have a large family and drive themselves hard, with coca leaves keeping hunger and exhaustion at bay. On a good day a miner can make 80 Bolivianos ($16.00).We spent the evening watching a poor American film, In The Nick of Time, and enjoyed some indigenous music in the Central Plaza, which was the beginning of a week-long cultural festival.

Friday, October 11

We caught the only scheduled flight that day out of Potosi for La Paz at 8:15 a.m. At 13,000+ feet only a small craft can get up enough speed to take off.  I’m glad air traffic is so reasonable within Bolivia, as this $60 ticket saves us six hours in a bus.

I’m happy to be leaving this high altitude, as the thin air and head cold have given me a constant headache.

We spent the day walking around central la Paz and checking out our last market. We also took in yet another movie, this time a repeat, Independence Day, and had dinner at yet another Italian restaurant, Pronto, with a friend of Tim’s. Lisa, who was celebrating her 25th birthday.

Saturday, October 12

The long trip home. Leaving La Paz at 7:15 a.m. but I won’t get into Denver until 10:40 p.m. It has been wonderful spending the last two weeks with Tim and sharing a part of his adventure. Unfortunately, I have been ill with amoebas and a head cold much of my time here, so I have not had the energy I would have wanted.

The Bolivian people are in general very gracious, but I find much of their country bleak and desolate. It has been a good trip, but I look forward to returning home.

                                                                      La Paz market

Driving a Taxi in Honolulu

The summer of 1969 I went over to Hawaii to drive a taxi. I still had a year left to graduate from college and this seemed like a romantic way to spend my vacation as well as to make a little money. I had read James Michener’s book Hawaii and found the opportunity to visit the islands enticing.

My friend Dannie Jaich had graduated the year before and had gone to Honolulu to find a teaching job. For some reason this never panned out for him and he ended up driving a cab. He invited me to join him there and promised to guide me through the process of qualifying as a driver myself. So, with my one-way airfare paid for, and about $50 in my wallet, I flew over.

Dannie was living in a run-down rental house in downtown Honolulu on Liliuokalani Street, not too far from Waikiki and the beach. Oahu then was just as you might imagine; colorful, warm, humid and covered with palm trees and tropical plants. There was also an exotic mix of ethnic groups; businessmen descended from indentured Japanese laborers, Polynesian “Primo Warriors” (named for the local beer), mixed race “Portugees”, American soldiers on leave from the war in Viet Nam, lily-white mainland secretaries seeking romance, handsome, brown-skinned “real Hawaiian” surfing instructors and a few college kids looking for adventure.

Dannie soon put me to studying a map of the city because, in order to obtain a taxi driver’s license, you had to pass a test based upon your knowledge of the city streets and pertinent rules and regulations. The one part of the exam that I remember now was that you were verbally given a hypothetical location where you picked up an ill client and you had to give the examiner the

Waikiki Beach and Diamond Head

quickest route to the nearest hospital. The test was not easy, especially when you consider all the streets had Hawaiian names that I could neither pronounce nor easily distinguish, one from the other.

Our vehicles were rented from a fellow who charged $15/day for their use. We worked out of the Ilakai Hotel at the far northwest end of the Honolulu tourist area. This meant we waited in an off-site parking lot until they needed to replenish the 3-4 cabs that were stationed in front of the hotel. A good fare for us, where we could make a few bucks, would be to the airport, but too many times, after waiting for hours, we would get a client who just wanted to go to the International Market Place on Waikiki, a two dollar fare. As summer was the low tourist season, many days we would have to work 8 hours in order to make the funds to pay for the use of the cab. After that we would have to come up with the money to pay for gas and, yes, food. In many ways, this was some of the hardest work I have done.

As mentioned before, many of the streets had Hawaiian names and were difficult to distinguish between. I often had problems finding destinations. One memory that still makes me cringe is when I picked up an obviously in-a-hurry businessman at the Ilakai Hotel. He had an appointment in a few minutes at a hotel I had only heard of, but never had been to, although I felt I could find it. After wandering around for way too long, with a very agitated passenger in the back seat, I finally took him back to the nearest standing taxi I could find and admitted to him I could not find the hotel where his meeting was to be. The look on his face still haunts me.

One evening I remember was when the cab owner took Dannie and me, as well as several others of his drivers, out for drinks and a late breakfast on Waikiki (my first Eggs Benedict). We got pretty looped and he ended up racing his car at 120 mph (as I write this 120 mph seems impossible, but that is what I remember) down the main tourist thoroughfare at 2:00 am with a car full of quickly sobering passengers.

Sometimes I was really hungry. I remember one time at an all-you-can-eat buffet when I stuffed a pocket with scrambled eggs for later consumption. It doesn’t make sense now, as there must have been other more portable foods to carry out, but that’s what I did. And I remember eating them later.

Dannie, who was more bold than most, would propose a personalized Oahu Island tour to many of his passengers. For a set fee he would drive them around to the Northshore and back, showing them all the tourist spots and naming the flora and fauna that they

Surfers-North Shore, Oahu, Hawaii

saw. Now Dannie did not know their real names any more than I did, so he would just make up names like, Monkey Tree or Island Blue Birds. He encouraged me to offer these tours as well, but I was hesitant, not only did I not know any flowers’ names; I really did not know where the tourist spots were either. But I did propose it to one couple and when they did not readily accept, I was relieved. They said however, that they would think about it and asked for a telephone number where they could contact me. Much to my dismay a few days later they called to accept. I don’t remember much about the trip, but as uncomfortable as I was, I was able to fake my way through it. We did get up to the north side of the island and maybe saw some tourist sites, perhaps I named a few trees and birds. I did receive my fare and a tip but I didn’t try it again.

Other snap shot type memories that endure are:

– This was the year that Neil Armstrong was the first person to walk on the moon. It was a big event in Hawaii, as the return capsule was picked up in the waters just off shore. The triumphant astronauts came to Honolulu to be greeted by large and enthusiastic crowds. I did not see them in person, but remember watching the landing and return on a flickering, black and white TV in the dorm room of Carlyn Hanson, a student at the University of Hawaii that I was dating at the time.

– George Pena was a friend of Dannie’s and mine from high school. He had signed on with the Los Angeles Angels baseball organization and was with their triple A team in, I think, Palm   Springs. His team came over to play the Hawaiian franchise and we of course went to see him. I don’t remember much about the game except for my introduction to Saimen which I really liked. This is typical Hawaiian baseball fare and is similar to Ramen noodles.

– Dropping someone off at a house where they had the 1969 College All Star Football team  playing the previous year’s Super Bowl Champions (as they used to do)  NY Jets on the television. I only saw a moment of the game, but the Joe Namath led pros won in a close one 26-24.

– Cutting Sam Rosseli’s hair, the first and only time I have done this. Sam was another friend from college, who had come over to join us to drive a cab that summer. Sam was a laid-back guy notable for having dated a well-known model, Cheryl Tiggs, before she became famous.

– I remember that black people were always conscientious about tipping.

– The local, year-round, full-time taxi drivers were understandably resentful of we “haoles” who had come over from the mainland to pick up the scant fares.

– I started reading Catch 22 and finished it only recently, close to 40 years later.

Hawaiian Islands

– And, I remember thinking that the ocean water was as warm as a bath.

So, after a full summer, exhausted, with an airline ticket in my hand, $15 dollars in my pocket and all debts paid (except for that traffic ticket for driving at dusk on Waikiki Blvd without my lights on that I did not believe I deserved) I headed home.

Thanks Dannie for inviting me. It was great fun.

Hong Kong, a Most Excellent Adventure

By Charley Mallon, on October 1st, 2011

This spring I went with a friend to visit Hong Kong and attend their famous annual Rugby 7’s tournament. I had never been to Asia before and had always had a fascination for the Hong Kong/British history. We spent 8 days there, five sightseeing and three dedicated to the Rugby matches and all that entails.

I found the city colorful, exciting, crowded, clean and filled with the energy one associates with NYC. For monoglots (look it up) such as ourselves, we found the area easy to traverse (including a side ferry trip to nearby Macau) and the natives friendly. We stayed on the mainland side in Kowloon, but found the subway system quickly and inexpensively took us anywhere we chose to roam. We found an Irish Bar quickly, but enjoyed eating the tasty local fare in many of a local hole-in-the wall.

7’s Rugby is an abbreviated version of the regular 15 a-side version and is Hong Kong’s largest sporting event with 20 national teams competing. The 40,000 seat stadium is filled all three days with visitors from all over the world, many vying with each other for the most outlandish costumes. As expected, the All Blacks won. The USA put in a subpar performance. And, the beer………………

We were joined by some friends from Boulder who were there for the festivities, including one businessman who “just happened to need to stay a couple of days in Hong Kong” on his company paid business trip to China.

Great matches, exciting city, wonderful people (long plane ride). I’d recommend it to anyone.