MoveItManning

My bus arrives in Tupiza, Bolivia at 3:15am, possibly the worst time to arrive in a new town as it is neither day nor night, almost too late to seek a bed and definitely too early to wait it out in a cafe. It completely defeats the purpose of taking a night bus. Reluctantly (I thought briefly about hanging out on the curb until something opened up) I ring the bell of the nearest hostel. The scratchy voice of a man who had obviously been sleeping addresses me in Spanish over the intercom. After a confusing exchange, he comes out and opens the locked gate for me, his shoes only pulled on half way, much like his attitude. Tupiza is a small, dusty little town which would have reminded me of something out of the Wild ... read more

I am wayyyyyy overdue for a blog entry. This last month in Peru has been a fast-paced, high altitude extravaganza across deserts, mountain ranges, and through ancient ruins. It's been a challenge to put everything into words, and looking back through my personal journal, I find long periods of silence followed by a frenzy of pages devoted to making up for lost time. To try and put a whole month of experiences in to one entry is far beyond my capabilities, so I won't bore you with any attempts. Instead I'll include some of the highlights...in haiku form... HUARAZ So...what's that in feet? Fifteen thousand, eighty-two. Those views were worth it. CUZCO Alpaca sweaters, Alpaca hats, gloves, and scarves. You get the picture. COLCA CANYON Ego made me think I could do three hours down, Four ... read more

A few weeks ago I was living in an apartment in Washington, DC. I was working at a bar, working at an art gallery, I had a lease, a gym membership, a car, a Netflix account, and 30 pairs of shoes in my closet. I am now officially homeless and am carrying around all my possessions on my back. There is no lease, no car, no gym (though I forgot to cancel Netflix, so there's still that). After two weeks in South America I am speaking Spanish on a daily basis, have ridden a runaway horse in the Andes, seen smoke from an active volcano, and trudged knee deep through bat shit. To say that this is a departure from my normal routine would be an understatement. My journey began in Quito, Ecuador. At 2850 m ... read more

At 7:00 AM I am out the door, on my way to the train station. The sun is not yet up and I tramp along in near darkness, dawn blushing ever so faintly on the horizon. It's cold and my breath hangs in the air like a spritz of perfume. Only a few other souls have ventured out so early on a Sunday, and I imagine that I am in a disaster scenario movie where everyone else has fled or died or turned into zombies. We are the sole survivors. A few more people congregate at the train station but the carriages are hardly full--maybe 10 other people are in my car. We pull out of the station spot on time, just as the sun rubs the sleep from its eyes. As we make our way ... read more

The Christmas tree in the hotel lobby was like Angelina Jolie at an all-you-can-eat buffet, or Gene Simmons on Antiques Roadshow: it just didn't belong. I am eating pineapples and drinking coconut water straight from the shell, it's over 90 degrees and I got sunburned at the pool yesterday. There is NO WAY it's December. Partridges and pear trees should be months away. Yet there it was, the Christmas tree, glowing with yuletide defiance. 'Don't you know where you are? Don't you know how hot it is? Stupid tree,' I thought. With some surprise I looked down at my knockoff retro Casio watch and saw DEC 1 starring back at me. WTF? So now that it's December and all, I should bring you up to date: After leaving Saigon my friend Emily and I traveled deeper ... read more

A spell of bad weather can start to feel like a virus that you carry from place to place. First rain, then floods, then more rain followed me from Hanoi all the way down to Nha Trang on the central coast. For a week I never felt really, truly dry. I'm inclined to believe that my bad luck charm came in the form of a bespectacled American who, when I asked where he was from, replied "Oh, nowhere really." Oh, I thought, one of those. He's a traveler. (When I pressed him further he finally admitted that he was from Pennsylvania and had a house in Las Vegas of all places) "I just travel. Been traveling for 2 years now." He said this in a kind of nonchalant way that was almost a challenge--as if he ... read more

I've been finding it difficult to keep up with my writing since coming to Vietnam. The urge to write has been replaced by the urge to watch from hidden balcony cafes, to roam the streets, and get lost among the motos and crumbling colonial architecture. Every time I sit down at a computer to type something up, I find I don't really have the words. Hanoi seemed to trigger this. Looking back on my notes about the city, they are all inelegant musings and badly written impressions. But it's forgivable--the city was awash with commerce and activity and quirky details--too much for any one hand to write down. But a few sights do stand out to me even now. First on the list are the motorbikes. Every man, woman, and child owns a motorbike in Hanoi. ... read more