Pisco
When you travel with someone, alot of times the ideas they will bounce off of you are similar to: "Hey let´s go check out that beach" or "let´s try this type of food..." You know, kind of a mutal idea of "lets be safe and not die."
I´m travelling with Andrew.
"Hey Anthony, Pisco in Peru just had this massive, destructive, killer earthquake. Wanna go there for a month?"
As much as I love an adrenaline rush, gettig engulfed by the earth itself and tumbling into the pits of hell isn´t really the thrill I had in mind.
We found out about HODR (Hands On Disaster Relief) at a hostel in Lima and since we were looking for a volunteer opportunity anyways, this falling into our lap was perfect. Minus that whole abyss due to aftershocks thing...
They don´t really ease your worries when you show up either. The first thing you do is sign a page-long, point 8 size "release form."
Excerpt:
"...these and other hazards and dangers may result in injuries to the participant, which includes without limitation, falling, being struck, dismembered or crushed, colliding with objects or people, experiencing vehicle collisions, being injured or sickened by machinery, pbjects, animals, water, mold or people (collectively "injury")
At least they´re looking out for us.
My first day on the job, I went from pauper to prince rather quickly. I spent the morning cleaning rubble from on families living room and in the afternoon went with a group of volunteers to a building now acting as a school where the kids had a bit of a sports rally going on. The kids hated the idea of our original Q&A purpose and quickly had the volunteers pitted against each other in some brutally competitive rounds of musical chairs and wheel-barrow races.
Chock one up for Canada. I am now the officially crowned musical chair king of Peru.
My prize was a juice box. Orange juice. Down here, that´s kind of like giving me a gold bar.
Even now, if I´m working on a job site and some kids walk by, they call me by name.... "Hola Anthony!!"
Told you I was royalty.
Since that day my routine has been pretty consistant: Wake, breakfast, sledgehammer, shovel, sledgehammer, shovel, sledgehammer, shovel, sledgehammer, shovel, lunch, sledgehammer, shovel, sledgehammer, shovel, sledgehammer, shovel,wheel-barrow, shower, supper, meeting, free-time, bed.
I do however think that it is every boys dream to wake up in the morning, be shown a house and then have someone hand you a sledgehammer and say "have fun!"
No therapy can beat this. I´m sure that if I ever had any grudges against anyone before, it´s all been taken out on the walls right here. This is what inner peace feels like.
I think I might start my own therapy/demolition business. Marriage counseling 101.
Being here a month though has gotten me into the habit of taking a hammer to the ruins of any house I see... I think it might be a bad idea to make the ancient ruins of Macchu Picchu our next stop...
I´ll be the stupid tourist taking a wheel-barrow full of Picchu back down the Inca Trail.
I´ll also be the stupid tourist in a Peruvian jail trying to convince them that the sacred temple was only sacred hundreds of years ago...
We saw a bit of a change in schedule the other day when a news crew from Lima stopped us on the job site to interview a few volunteers. I was on Peruvian television.
Told you I was royalty.
Unfortuanetly we don´t have T.V. here... It would have been really cool to see myslef dubbed over in Spanish.
A few pepole at home were worried about us marching into earthquake territory, but on the first day you get here, they give you a safety talk on what do do if there is an "event" (They use the word "event" because "eathquake" is like a bad word here... even in english). They show you the quickest exits and extra ones just in case the doorways are clogged by people not moving fast enough.
On our second night here, we had a small "event" at about 2:45 AM
I went from asleep to a full-out run in a time that would have put most sports cars to shame.
0-60 in 0.000375 seconds.
It could have been a guy snoring too loudly in the bunk below me and I wouldn´t have known until I was safely down the street crouching in the fetal position.
Just a sidenote: I´d be cool with the ground never moving again.
HODR also works in conjunction with UNICEF on another project that provides "Ludotheca" tents in the refugee camps. This is basically a safe place for kids in the camp to play and HODR volunteers are encouraged to take a day off from the toil of rubble removal every now and then and play with the kids.
I tried this out. I´m sure that it would have even been a nice change if these children hadn´t been raised by Satan himself. I think I have more bruises cuts and muscle pains from my day at Ludotheca than I do from a week of rubble.
How do you say "Don´t kick me there" in Spanish?
Serious though, our time here has been phenominal. It´s an incredible experience to help people who have lost everything. The look in their eyes as you leave the job-site is something you´ll never forget. Most of them are even in amazing spirits and like to joke around like me, but we do so carefully, trying only to raise the spirits in the midst of tragedy.
The earthquake was serious, many lost their lives, and we are the lucky ones given the privilige to help those who have lost so much. We´ve met amazing people from all over the world, joining together to rebuild this community. Friendships that will probably last forever. Before now I´ve never really known what it feels like to help someone who can´t pay you back... I don´t ever really want to stop feeling this way.
Please keep the families, community and volunteers in your prayers. Also, check out aidgle.com. It´s the exact same search engine as Google, but for the next month every search that is done through there gives HODR a donantion! Zing! I know! I even search for hotmail and facebook through it. www.aidgle.com Spread the word!
Keep Smiling!
Anthony
Spanish lesson for today: "Mi casa es su casa" - "My house is your house."
Friday, October 26, 2007
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Iquitos
Lima
Pisco
GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH! -
Thank you. I needed a minute to catch my breath. Yesterday, we arrived in Pisco. Pisco is a city in the Ica region of Peru... Ica being the region that was rocked by a massive earthquake on August 15th. The town is a shambles, as one might imagine, with rubble and the teetering remains of walls and buildings all around, and the streets lined with chunks of rock and thatch that families have cleared out of what used to be their homes. But a couple months after the initial devastation, people are doing as they do, and rebuilding their lives.
Anthony and I are here with a very motley group of volunteers, many or even most of them backpackers like us, who are offering some time out of their trip to help with the clean up, both of houses and of lives. It´s great. I was absolutely coated in adobe dust today. Head to toe. I´ve worked in some dusty places (Gerard knows), but the dust got into places I´ve never found it before. Like my ears. I scratch them and my finger turns black.
Anyways, all of you are missing some information, and we´ve only been here a day, so I´m going to skip backwards a bit, and tell you what happened after our jungle adventure.
Skip, skip, ski- THUD!
Ungh.
After we escaped from the jungle (I think that´s a fair statement - the little jalopy that carted us most of the way out navigated some dirt roads I´d be scared to try with four wheel drive), we were rushed (in the whirlwind way we´re now familiar with) to a boat bound for the Brazil/Peru/Columbia border - a city called Tabatinga. Our jungle tour included the fare for this boat, as well as (fanfare!) new hammocks!
Now, I think that we need to print a retraction for one of our previous blog entries, or at least an apology. We wrote earlier that the hammocks in Belize were terrible, and we slept terribly in them. Well, they were, and we did. That´s not what I´m sorry about. The mistake we made was in generalizing that experience to all hammocks, everywhere, including (regrettably) Brazilian hammocks. This, my friends, was a great and terrible oversight. We spent the better part of a week on this boat, sleeping each night in a hammock, and it was fantastic. So fantastic, that often we spent the better part of our days in the hammock as well.
The boat trip, as with many of the good things that providence has dropped into our laps on this trip, was a very well-timed change of pace from the hectic daily zooming from place to place. A chance to watch the sun rise and set every day; to watch pink dolphins coming up for air, and a host of little fish jumping in the wake of the boat; to see houses and villages, and how the inhabitants depend so much on the river for their daily life...
This part of the trip was less fraught with the gut-twisting ironies and narrow successes that we´ve experienced so far; but we were on the boat with the same people for several days, and the characters we encountered were even better.
Within a day, the girls in the hammocks across from us developed a crush on Anthony. They first expressed their feelings by trying to get me (through a series of gestures) to set him up with one of them. Then, they began learning some english phrases to match the little portugese we were learning. Finally, as they were leaving on the third or fourth day (they got off earlier than we did), they approached him and confessed their love for him. I thought it was hilarious. He didn´t.
There was also a young man on his way to a new school where he was going to learn english. Keen to begin his studies, he tried to get us to teach him a bit while we were en route... easier said than done, though, because although his portugese was fantastic, ours was non-existent, and his spanish was worse than ours. Nevertheless, over two language barriers and with a whole lot of embarrassed silences and laughing, we made good friends with him.
There was a young woman from France, who was in fact just finishing her own world tour - in the opposite direction. She endured our rusty french, and gave us some tips about what to do and how to manage in some of the countries we´ll be going through eventually. That, and she was the one who discovered they had fruit salad in the kiosk on the top deck of the boat - it was heavenly after a world of pasta, rice, beans, and meat, pasta, rice, beans, and meat - every day.
Another, perhaps one of the most helpful people we´ve met so far, was a man enlisted in the Brazilian military named Misael (Meeshac in English). He spoke little english, but his spanish was excellent, and he seemed to really enjoy the challenge of teaching us. Between our conversations with him and with his other acquaintances on the boat, we learned more useful spanish and portugese than we could gain from weeks of reading our phrasebooks and checking things on the internet.
There were many other enjoyable personalities, but I´ll skip most of them to tell you about this one; about four days in, a fourteen-year-old girl joined us as a passenger on the both, and enjoyed the novelty of meeting someone who didn´t speak portugese at all. She was talking to Anthony, who was telling her (as best he could) about our country and our family. Anthony pulled out a picture of our family to help explain, and when he did she was suddenly and absolutely smitten with love for... Jefferey. Jeffery Hoffman, there is a fourteen year old girl in Brazil who thinks you are the most beautiful human being on the planet.
Hmm. The Hoffman charm transcends race and distance, I guess.
The ride was great, but by the fifth day, we were itching to get off the boat and re-enter the impossible rush of our travels - and voila! Here we are! A brief stop in Iquitos to catch mass and a pizza (it eases the homesickness - and it´s not rice and beans), and we flew into Lima. In Lima, providence once again spoon-fed us our next step in the form of a note from two previous volunteers that recommended this particular organization to us, just as we were wondering how to get involved in the relief work here. Breakfast and a bus ride later, we signed our lives away, and will be helping out here for a couple of weeks.
So, my friends, peace and love until we meet again!
Oh, and somewhere in Manaus or on the boat, Anthony got fleas. I found that funny.
And for those who have been asking, the spiky fruit that we ate is called a Lichi fruit. You don{t eat the spikes - they´re part of a shell that you take off to expose the soft white deliciousness inside. If you ever have the chance, try one.
Andrew
Lima
Pisco
GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH! -
Thank you. I needed a minute to catch my breath. Yesterday, we arrived in Pisco. Pisco is a city in the Ica region of Peru... Ica being the region that was rocked by a massive earthquake on August 15th. The town is a shambles, as one might imagine, with rubble and the teetering remains of walls and buildings all around, and the streets lined with chunks of rock and thatch that families have cleared out of what used to be their homes. But a couple months after the initial devastation, people are doing as they do, and rebuilding their lives.
Anthony and I are here with a very motley group of volunteers, many or even most of them backpackers like us, who are offering some time out of their trip to help with the clean up, both of houses and of lives. It´s great. I was absolutely coated in adobe dust today. Head to toe. I´ve worked in some dusty places (Gerard knows), but the dust got into places I´ve never found it before. Like my ears. I scratch them and my finger turns black.
Anyways, all of you are missing some information, and we´ve only been here a day, so I´m going to skip backwards a bit, and tell you what happened after our jungle adventure.
Skip, skip, ski- THUD!
Ungh.
After we escaped from the jungle (I think that´s a fair statement - the little jalopy that carted us most of the way out navigated some dirt roads I´d be scared to try with four wheel drive), we were rushed (in the whirlwind way we´re now familiar with) to a boat bound for the Brazil/Peru/Columbia border - a city called Tabatinga. Our jungle tour included the fare for this boat, as well as (fanfare!) new hammocks!
Now, I think that we need to print a retraction for one of our previous blog entries, or at least an apology. We wrote earlier that the hammocks in Belize were terrible, and we slept terribly in them. Well, they were, and we did. That´s not what I´m sorry about. The mistake we made was in generalizing that experience to all hammocks, everywhere, including (regrettably) Brazilian hammocks. This, my friends, was a great and terrible oversight. We spent the better part of a week on this boat, sleeping each night in a hammock, and it was fantastic. So fantastic, that often we spent the better part of our days in the hammock as well.
The boat trip, as with many of the good things that providence has dropped into our laps on this trip, was a very well-timed change of pace from the hectic daily zooming from place to place. A chance to watch the sun rise and set every day; to watch pink dolphins coming up for air, and a host of little fish jumping in the wake of the boat; to see houses and villages, and how the inhabitants depend so much on the river for their daily life...
This part of the trip was less fraught with the gut-twisting ironies and narrow successes that we´ve experienced so far; but we were on the boat with the same people for several days, and the characters we encountered were even better.
Within a day, the girls in the hammocks across from us developed a crush on Anthony. They first expressed their feelings by trying to get me (through a series of gestures) to set him up with one of them. Then, they began learning some english phrases to match the little portugese we were learning. Finally, as they were leaving on the third or fourth day (they got off earlier than we did), they approached him and confessed their love for him. I thought it was hilarious. He didn´t.
There was also a young man on his way to a new school where he was going to learn english. Keen to begin his studies, he tried to get us to teach him a bit while we were en route... easier said than done, though, because although his portugese was fantastic, ours was non-existent, and his spanish was worse than ours. Nevertheless, over two language barriers and with a whole lot of embarrassed silences and laughing, we made good friends with him.
There was a young woman from France, who was in fact just finishing her own world tour - in the opposite direction. She endured our rusty french, and gave us some tips about what to do and how to manage in some of the countries we´ll be going through eventually. That, and she was the one who discovered they had fruit salad in the kiosk on the top deck of the boat - it was heavenly after a world of pasta, rice, beans, and meat, pasta, rice, beans, and meat - every day.
Another, perhaps one of the most helpful people we´ve met so far, was a man enlisted in the Brazilian military named Misael (Meeshac in English). He spoke little english, but his spanish was excellent, and he seemed to really enjoy the challenge of teaching us. Between our conversations with him and with his other acquaintances on the boat, we learned more useful spanish and portugese than we could gain from weeks of reading our phrasebooks and checking things on the internet.
There were many other enjoyable personalities, but I´ll skip most of them to tell you about this one; about four days in, a fourteen-year-old girl joined us as a passenger on the both, and enjoyed the novelty of meeting someone who didn´t speak portugese at all. She was talking to Anthony, who was telling her (as best he could) about our country and our family. Anthony pulled out a picture of our family to help explain, and when he did she was suddenly and absolutely smitten with love for... Jefferey. Jeffery Hoffman, there is a fourteen year old girl in Brazil who thinks you are the most beautiful human being on the planet.
Hmm. The Hoffman charm transcends race and distance, I guess.
The ride was great, but by the fifth day, we were itching to get off the boat and re-enter the impossible rush of our travels - and voila! Here we are! A brief stop in Iquitos to catch mass and a pizza (it eases the homesickness - and it´s not rice and beans), and we flew into Lima. In Lima, providence once again spoon-fed us our next step in the form of a note from two previous volunteers that recommended this particular organization to us, just as we were wondering how to get involved in the relief work here. Breakfast and a bus ride later, we signed our lives away, and will be helping out here for a couple of weeks.
So, my friends, peace and love until we meet again!
Oh, and somewhere in Manaus or on the boat, Anthony got fleas. I found that funny.
And for those who have been asking, the spiky fruit that we ate is called a Lichi fruit. You don{t eat the spikes - they´re part of a shell that you take off to expose the soft white deliciousness inside. If you ever have the chance, try one.
Andrew
Sunday, October 7, 2007
"Jungle"-Native for:´Never Get Out Alive´
Panama City
Manaus (Brazil)
Tabachinga
Santa Rosa(Peru)
Iquitos
You know how they say that what you spend years building, someone could tear down overnight? One month in Central America cramming Spanish-learning everything from pineapple (Piña), to bathroom (Baños). Everything was fine when we boarded the plane in Panama City, but when we landed in Manaus, Brazil, I´m sure I looked like a pig heading to the bacon-making-place when someone tried to speak to me in Portuguese. This language of course, is relatively similar to Spanish, but only enough to mock us.
Crazy jugle-talk or not, Brazil is a pretty sweet place. Through a flurry of hand-gestures, animal-like sounds and flashing a bit of the local currency, we landed a three day/two night tour of the Amazon river/jungle.
Day 1: Pirhana fishing.
I have to start this by saying that I caught the first one. I named him Bartholemew. Now, for the record, fish should not have teeth. Somewhere, somehow there was a major wrench thrown into the circle of life.
I had never thought that fishing could ever be considered dangerous. Hunting a Tyrannosaurus Rex with a BB gun maybe......but fishing?!
I took everything I thought I would need to make sure I was the one being fed tonight... Two lifejackets, longsleeve shirt and pants, my fishing rod, and a shotgun... I also put on extra mosquito repellant, just so there was no chance of me tasting good.
I don´t think I would mind being Filet-Antonio so much if it wasn´t for the after-death conversations people would have...
"He was killed by a fish!?"
"We´ve never had problems with our goldfish before..."
It has to be the least manly way to go. I can hear the snickers at the eulogy already... I bet they´d have fish at the after-funeral reception too...
I think the entire Amazon must have heard me singing "Hakuna Matata" when Bartholemew showed up on my plate for supper.
Day 1 evening: Alligator Hunting
You´d think that one near-death-by-animal experience would suffice for one day eh? Not in the Amazon. They like to keep things interesting. (I´m guessing it is due to a serious lack of things like CBC, or X-box to keep them occupied.)
Our guide said we had to wait until after dark to go because alligators only come out at night.
I instisted that Canadians stay in and watch TV after dark to avoid being eaten by creatures that only come out at night.
Complaining only ended up making me look like a baby when we actually caught an alligator.... It was less like a volkswagon-eating, prehistoric beast and more like an oversized gecko... Still, saying I´ve been alligator hunting HAS to be a pretty sweet pick-up line.
Day 2: Jungle Trek and Swimming.
Swimming in the Amazon?! Why don´t I just lather myself in BBQ sauce and ring the dinner bell?
Is this just to finish you off in case you survived the panthers and anacondas during the jungle trek?
I remember seeing a picture in the tourguides office of the largest fish ever caught in the Amazon. It was about 11 feet long and I´m sure could swallow an Anthony-sized boy in one gulp no problemo.
So, flesh eating fish, gators and Moby Dick were the three strikes I needed to keep me on dry-land.
...and as if I needed a fourth, the next day we visited a native dwelling and saw a man fishing in his boat. Our guide asked if he had caught anything yet and the man said, "Cravadora."
In english: Death.
It actually means ´stingray´, and as our boat pulled up to his for a closer look, I had two words running through my head:
Steve Irwin.
If the croc-hunter himself didn´t stand a chance against one of those bad-boys, what stupid Canadian in his right mind would want to be in the same boat as one? Send a rabid beaver my way and I MIGHT be able to do something. Stingrays are out of my league. I contemplated jumping into the water and swimming to shore... good thing I thought that one through before putting it into action.
I was pretty impressed to watch the native fellow slice off the poisonous tail and continue to chop up the ray.... Apparently roasted-ray is pretty tasty. I´ll take their word for it.
We met three Irish lads who joined us on our three-day expedition, who had learned one South-American word that summarized the entire pupose of their three-week Brazilian tour.
Chicas.
Spanish for ´girls.´ Needless to say, they spent their time at the native dwelling looking for some Amazon babe.*
(An Amazon babe might be a long dark-haired, cinnamon skinned girl with a long skirt and a flower in her hair... but for some reason when I just wrote that I pictured a butch she-man in a leopard-skin skirt weilding a machete and swinging from vines... not exactly the Lucky Charm eating, Guiness drinking type I´d imagine)
*Jungle STD not included in package price.
I imagine there must have been some kind of contract we should have signed... where the fine print says:
Amazon Tour Company is not responsible for death or loss of limbs during this trek. Nor can it be held accountable for any loss due to alligator attack, anacondas, pìrhanas, jaguars, malaria, bad food, sunburn, drowning, lightning, tarantulas, native cannibals, stingrays, dolphins-(hey, you never know), poison darts, hang-nails, bugs, yelllow fever, fruit or other tourists. (Especially Hungarians....)
If they didn´t have anything like that, I´m sure they would have been sued by every dumb American who was bitten by a mosquito.
Portuguese lesson for the day:
"Eu nao entendo" - "I have no flippen clue what you just said to me."
More pictures coming!
Cheers from Peru!
Keep Smiling!
Anthony
Manaus (Brazil)
Tabachinga
Santa Rosa(Peru)
Iquitos
You know how they say that what you spend years building, someone could tear down overnight? One month in Central America cramming Spanish-learning everything from pineapple (Piña), to bathroom (Baños). Everything was fine when we boarded the plane in Panama City, but when we landed in Manaus, Brazil, I´m sure I looked like a pig heading to the bacon-making-place when someone tried to speak to me in Portuguese. This language of course, is relatively similar to Spanish, but only enough to mock us.
Crazy jugle-talk or not, Brazil is a pretty sweet place. Through a flurry of hand-gestures, animal-like sounds and flashing a bit of the local currency, we landed a three day/two night tour of the Amazon river/jungle.
Day 1: Pirhana fishing.
I have to start this by saying that I caught the first one. I named him Bartholemew. Now, for the record, fish should not have teeth. Somewhere, somehow there was a major wrench thrown into the circle of life.
I had never thought that fishing could ever be considered dangerous. Hunting a Tyrannosaurus Rex with a BB gun maybe......but fishing?!
I took everything I thought I would need to make sure I was the one being fed tonight... Two lifejackets, longsleeve shirt and pants, my fishing rod, and a shotgun... I also put on extra mosquito repellant, just so there was no chance of me tasting good.
I don´t think I would mind being Filet-Antonio so much if it wasn´t for the after-death conversations people would have...
"He was killed by a fish!?"
"We´ve never had problems with our goldfish before..."
It has to be the least manly way to go. I can hear the snickers at the eulogy already... I bet they´d have fish at the after-funeral reception too...
I think the entire Amazon must have heard me singing "Hakuna Matata" when Bartholemew showed up on my plate for supper.
Day 1 evening: Alligator Hunting
You´d think that one near-death-by-animal experience would suffice for one day eh? Not in the Amazon. They like to keep things interesting. (I´m guessing it is due to a serious lack of things like CBC, or X-box to keep them occupied.)
Our guide said we had to wait until after dark to go because alligators only come out at night.
I instisted that Canadians stay in and watch TV after dark to avoid being eaten by creatures that only come out at night.
Complaining only ended up making me look like a baby when we actually caught an alligator.... It was less like a volkswagon-eating, prehistoric beast and more like an oversized gecko... Still, saying I´ve been alligator hunting HAS to be a pretty sweet pick-up line.
Day 2: Jungle Trek and Swimming.
Swimming in the Amazon?! Why don´t I just lather myself in BBQ sauce and ring the dinner bell?
Is this just to finish you off in case you survived the panthers and anacondas during the jungle trek?
I remember seeing a picture in the tourguides office of the largest fish ever caught in the Amazon. It was about 11 feet long and I´m sure could swallow an Anthony-sized boy in one gulp no problemo.
So, flesh eating fish, gators and Moby Dick were the three strikes I needed to keep me on dry-land.
...and as if I needed a fourth, the next day we visited a native dwelling and saw a man fishing in his boat. Our guide asked if he had caught anything yet and the man said, "Cravadora."
In english: Death.
It actually means ´stingray´, and as our boat pulled up to his for a closer look, I had two words running through my head:
Steve Irwin.
If the croc-hunter himself didn´t stand a chance against one of those bad-boys, what stupid Canadian in his right mind would want to be in the same boat as one? Send a rabid beaver my way and I MIGHT be able to do something. Stingrays are out of my league. I contemplated jumping into the water and swimming to shore... good thing I thought that one through before putting it into action.
I was pretty impressed to watch the native fellow slice off the poisonous tail and continue to chop up the ray.... Apparently roasted-ray is pretty tasty. I´ll take their word for it.
We met three Irish lads who joined us on our three-day expedition, who had learned one South-American word that summarized the entire pupose of their three-week Brazilian tour.
Chicas.
Spanish for ´girls.´ Needless to say, they spent their time at the native dwelling looking for some Amazon babe.*
(An Amazon babe might be a long dark-haired, cinnamon skinned girl with a long skirt and a flower in her hair... but for some reason when I just wrote that I pictured a butch she-man in a leopard-skin skirt weilding a machete and swinging from vines... not exactly the Lucky Charm eating, Guiness drinking type I´d imagine)
*Jungle STD not included in package price.
I imagine there must have been some kind of contract we should have signed... where the fine print says:
Amazon Tour Company is not responsible for death or loss of limbs during this trek. Nor can it be held accountable for any loss due to alligator attack, anacondas, pìrhanas, jaguars, malaria, bad food, sunburn, drowning, lightning, tarantulas, native cannibals, stingrays, dolphins-(hey, you never know), poison darts, hang-nails, bugs, yelllow fever, fruit or other tourists. (Especially Hungarians....)
If they didn´t have anything like that, I´m sure they would have been sued by every dumb American who was bitten by a mosquito.
Portuguese lesson for the day:
"Eu nao entendo" - "I have no flippen clue what you just said to me."
More pictures coming!
Cheers from Peru!
Keep Smiling!
Anthony
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