Here it was. The picture was complete. Someone being honest about his motives. Finally. Like so many before, I had figured him out from his accent. T., my fellow countryman. World traveler and Samaritan. When the Russians had stopped giving aid to Cuba he was there to exchange soap for services. Five hundred clean, sweet smelling ladies. When an influx of other male 'tourists' meant that soap was no longer enough, he started bringing joy to Brazilian and Colombian admirers. Ebony fever at its peak, he approached each and every possible target. A quick exchange and he comes back with a [View Full Entry]

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The hook had barely touched the water when a voracious mouth with teeth like sickles attached itself to the chicken on the end. Fish number three would do to satisfy my meat intake for the day. The date on my watch indicated it was Tuesday, I had been here over a week and a half. Was it really that long? The days had passed by so quickly...a sure sign that I was enjoying myself. I had better be, I had travelled over two thousand kilometres by bus and taken a five hour flight to reach the most isolated piece of land [View Full Entry]

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No entiendo, he said with a puzzled face and a look of fear in his expression. The over-confident prick/a**hole had had the tables turned on his little charade. Not two minutes earlier the man had gotten into the front passenger seat of the taxi I had just hailed to get back to my residence. Asking for documentation, the driver duly obliged. The man proceeded with a mobile phone call to 'HQ', 'reporting' that the credentials were in order and asking me for my nationality and where I was staying. Turista? Agitated by the label, I bluntly replied: No, viajero/traveller. [View Full Entry]

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Six men in camouflage jackets pulled up in a pick-up and beckoned for me to get in. Where have you been? We've been looking all over town for you. Let's go! Pedro moved his gun to make room for me in the back while Richard took the wheel. Are you ready to see a 'tigre'? Hell, yeah! I said. Three days earlier I'd met the men while looking for someone to take me into Bolivia's Pantanal wilderness. Having been on the Brazilian side years ago, I'd seen my share of animals but one had evaded me. My quest to find an [View Full Entry]

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What is your religion? she asked. This was either the silliest pick-up line I have ever heard or the most shocking introduction ever. When I had first seen the two girls, I thought that they were prostitutes. Two hotties dressed like they were out to party, wearing full make-up in a dead-end town with nothing but soldiers around...and I was dining at the Military Casino. Dear Wilma and Maria will have to forgive me for not instantly realizing they were doing their utmost to promote Herbalife products. I switched on the T.V. in my room only to find exactly what I [View Full Entry]

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Leaving the Altiplano and La Paz behind, I journeyed to Cochabamba. The Pope had been here in '89 and a statue of Christ to surpass the one in Rio had been built to commemorate the visit. But I wasn't here to save souls. Preaching is not my style either. Instead, I chose to torture myself by taking a six hour trip down a cobblestone road on a bus made for elves. Visions of Ko to tamo peva raced through my head. My bladder almost exploded due to lack of stops and I'm sure I'm due for a knee replacement in the [View Full Entry]

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Rested and restless, I was in need of some action. The parties at the Loki and Wild Rover had grown stale. The frequency with which the travellers changed in these places was staggering. Five old and fifty-five new faces every night. Where are you from? Where have you been so far? Questions a short-term traveller may revel in replying became tiring after half a year on the road. The question Patrik (Swiss; Peru and Chile if you must know) and I had coined in Santiago for fun: What's your favourite colour? though simple and seemingly silly sounding (you're welcome to write [View Full Entry]

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Why do you keep stopping? the guide asked with an irritated expression on his face and agitation in his voice. Mmm...because I can't breathe!?! I replied in turn. The monster had flicked his switch. The previous morning Christophe and I were left waiting in vain for our departure. C's guide had called in sick and the agency was desperately (in Bolivian terms) trying to find a replacement. Low and behold, an hour later Mr. Sick shows up smelling of liquor. An exchange of words followed between him and the agency owner and things seemed to be settled. C was looking kind [View Full Entry]

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I shuddered as I felt the movement on my skin. Instinctively, my hand reached out to kill the would be invader. But there was none. It had taken the boat three hours to bring me back to civilisation but it would take my mind much longer to readjust. The swarms of mosquitoes were replaced by waves of motorcycles. Rurre, a town of merely fifteen thousand seemed like a megalopolis compare to Torewa, a community of six families. A lomito broke my diet of fish, rice and plantains, a cerveza my almost three week abstinence from alcohol and water so thickly laced [View Full Entry]

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The year was 1985. Michael Jackson was King of Pop, Sylvester Stallone was Rambo and NASA came to stand for Need Another Seven Astronauts. Swimming four hours a day and playing with Lego left little time for anything else. The A-Team took up another hour of my precious time so what else could I possibly do? Well, this curious little boys mind was preoccupied by one thing...animals. Capturing lizards and attempts at sizzling ants with the aid of a magnifying glass aside (it doesn't work, they're too quick), I was enamoured with the documentaries on TV. Don't believe me? Take a [View Full Entry]

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