Into The Quake

Into The Blue was a movie that was released in 2005 and was about physically attractive stupid people who fuck each other and look for pirate treasure.

That isn’t exactly what happened in Chile, but Paul Walker, one of the stars of that movie, doesn’t seem to understand that. He came down here a few days ago (I’m pretty sure without a shirt on and carrying a harpoon) to lend a hand with the relief effort. Which is great news if the poverty-stricken, newly homeless, bereaved survivors of the quake in Conecepcion, Chile want to know how to get past the doorman at Skybar, or are curious as to what Tyrese Gibson is like in real life. Maybe Paul can share celebrity tips to maintaining a flat stomach while still eating carbs.

Hopefully what happens -- and I mean this sincerely -- is that he shows up in Southern Chile, shuts his stupid fucking actor mouth, helps clear some debris and gets back to Equinox and Pinkberry as fast as possible. That’s literally the only way he can help. If he does anything other than that then I hope he gets burned in a refinery fire.

For my part I arrived in Valparaiso a few days ago after an 8 hour bus trip across the Andes. I was shaken down at the border for about 100 bucks from an Argentine border patrol agent who didn’t like that the new passport the U.S. embassy in Argentina gave me a few months ago didn’t have a stamp in it. So it was either pay up or hole up in the middle of a barren mountain range for god knows how long. The biggest problem was that there weren’t any ATM’s at the checkpoint and I only had about 60 bucks on me. I had to borrow the rest from the bus driver and pay him back once we got to Vina Del Mar. He was nice enough to give me the money but wasn’t exactly happy about it. I was kind of surprised he did help me out. Even though I’d like to think that in my home country a bus driver would be nice enough to bail out a foreigner with money problems… I’m not so sure it would actually happen.

But that was the only speed bump. I met some Chileans on the bus and had dinner with them once we arrived. It was great not just for the company but also the city. Valparaiso is a UNESCO world heritage sight for a reason: It’s fucking awesome. It’s kind of like if San Francisco, Marina Del Rey and the Hollywood hills got together to form a city and decided no white people could live there. It’s all beautiful old multi-colored houses on stilts with twisty cobblestone roads winding their way up into the hills and tiny cafes nestled in small hillside plazas. And every one of them has an ocean view. At the moment I’m writing this on the front patio of my guest house with a nearly panoramic view of the entire city and port below. It’s so nice that I’ve already extended my reservation for another week.

I guess the strangest part about it is that the earthquake didn’t really affect the city. I’ve seen a couple repairs being made, and heard of damage to a few buildings, but for the most part everything seems fine. The real tragedy occurred in the south, where I guess things aren’t quite as pretty and people aren’t quite as lucky.

Or maybe not. After all, those who survived the quake do get to meet the guy from 2 Fast 2 Furious.

Mendoza, Argentina

It's been almost four years since I strapped on the backpack and took off across Latin American countries. It's taking me a little bit to get my bearings and remember how to do this. And after nine months of the soft life in Buenos Aires the overnight buses, zero sleep and shady hotels are all taking there toll -- and this is only my first stop. To make matters worse I'm even more out of shape than I was when I was 27 so my  bag fucks with my back and my lack of stamina limits me to short distance treks when I've got that fucker strapped on.

But I'm lucky that my first stop is this sleepy university town smack in the middle of Argentine wine country. With it's wide boulevards, leafy overhangs, lush green parks, giant fountains and cafe culture it is about as pleasant a place to spend a few days as one could hope for. It's such an insanely well-designed place that the city planner deserves to be fellated every hour of every day -- even if he is dead.

And I thought I had seen college girls before -- until I came to Argentina. It's a subject not even worth broaching because what can you really say? It's like the playmates and supermodels came together to start a college and the only rule was that you couldn't bleach your hair.

The thing that sucks about the situation is that I have to spend about five hours of my day working, but I guess there are worse offices in the world than a patio table with a pint of Quilmes at the ready and a never-ending stream of Argentine girls passing you by. And I've still got the weekend. After my work is finished tomorrow I'll assault this city like only a pasty out-of-shape alcoholic with a giant forehead can. And then there's the Pac-Monster fight on Saturday. I'll be somewhere for that, losing my mind and giving my country a bad name. Then it's off to Chile on Sunday...

For a little dose of reality and tragedy.

A Stiff Wrench In My Ass And An Oversized Dick In My Plans

Nine months was a good stretch but it’s time for a change of background scenery. Even in a city like Buenos Aires, where everything is alive and moving 24 hours a day, it’s possible to stagnate. So I’m off.

I’ll miss the city and the people.

I won’t miss the North Americans who’ve swarmed here like locusts and are doing their best to turn this place into Cancun south.

I’ll miss the food.

I won’t miss my menopausal nutjob bitch TEFL instructor.

I’ll miss the nights here.

I won’t miss the fat, non-contributing coke addict with whom I interviewed for a shitty job writing scripts for his stupid ad company’s stupid language CD campaign and who I later saw drunk and high in a bar, gyrating to a rock ballad and performing a vomit-inducing dance/mating call for a girl across the room.

(Note: His name is David Garrett and he looks like a date-rapist and he sucks so bad and I hope he gets prostate cancer and his future wife has a miscarriage and then he gets run over by a panel van.)

I’ll miss the city itself.

But I’ll get back sooner or later. For better or worse this place has its Porteno claws in me and will always be home.

Which brings me to where I’m going. Now that I’ve found gainful – albeit mind-numbing – employment I was planning on flying to Los Angeles to see friends, but the bottom fell out of that idea when I realized I couldn’t get a ticket out of here for less than six or seven hundred dollars. To get that kind of money I’d have to supplement my current gig by prostituting myself to wealthy Argentine aristocrats. While that’s certainly an option, it goes against the firm decision I made some time ago that I would never allow my body to be violated for money. In the interest of full disclosure it should be noted that I made this decision right around the eighth time I allowed my body to be violated for money.

So the reality is that I have to get to a place on this continent where I can catch a flight to California on the cheap. I’ve turned the idea over in my head a few times and I keep coming to the same conclusion: Medellin, Columbia.

Now for those out there with less than a cartographer’s grasp of South American geography, Medellin is on the opposite side of the continent from where I currently reside. So I’ve got a bit of a hike ahead of me…through earthquake-ravaged Chile, across the highland desert mountains to Boliva, around lake Titicaca (ha!) past Machu Picchu and North through Peru to Quito at the top of the Andes where I’ll catch a plane to Medellin, that little El Dorado nestled between lush green mountains at an altitude with a year-round climate of about 75 degrees.

It sounds pretty good and I think I’ll enjoy the place – provided I don’t get murdered, drugged, raped, or some combination of the above while on my way there. To make things even more attractive I only have one source of income right now and that situation is tenuous at best. That means if I lose my job while on the road I will be more fucked than all of those who have been fucked before me. But I've managed to survive the results of every stupid decision I've made in the past -- and this won't be any different.

When Ernesto Guevara finished his trip all those years ago, he came out of it having been transformed emotionally and with a desire to dedicate himself to a cause. If I survive the same trip and come out the other end I probably will have had my laptop stolen and contracted an STD.

We all make our own way in this life.

Ciao putos!