5 Songs of the Mo’
1. Andrew W.K. – Party Hard - Dedicated to Master James Richmond, who I believe wants this song played during the birth of his first child. It's so bad it's good!
2. Blackalicious – Make You Feel That Way
3. Iggy Pop – Lust For Life
4. Elliott Smith – Angel In the Snow
5. Girl Talk – Play Your Part (Pt. 1) – Featuring Lil Wayne’s best lyrical attempt to describe my life

A couple of pics from Huacachina, Peru that I missed before…











ARGENTINA

Bolivia was an amazing country, and I really wish I had had more time to explore it. However, when you notice that statues such as this




are centrally featured on the main thoroughfare of a town you have the option of staying in, you realize that it’s time to get out of dodge.

So, on a bus that was literally and very obviously held together by duct tape, we made for the Argentinean border. Despite the ominous duct tape fact, the bus-ride was relatively uneventful, other than a 2-hour breakdown that I slept through and Toulch most definitely didn’t, and an unfortunate instance when I awoke to the portly advances of a middle-aged, traditional garb-wearing Bolivian woman on my lap, which I wish I were making up but sadly am not.

After navigating an absurd Bolivian exit-stamp lineup at the border, which was so combative and desperate that one would have expected it to be present in more of a peepee-soaked heckhole-type country like Iraq or Afghanistan or Taiwan rather than Bolivia, we found ourselves in the beautiful country of Argentina. Unfortunately, thanks to this degenerate hippie:



Seriously, who dresses like this?



our first few hours in that wonderful nation were spent on the side of a highway while the Argentinean army searched our bags, bus and selves for drugs. Clearly having been tipped off by this guy’s drug dealer in the border town, and the fact that he hadn’t showered in months, the Gendarmerie didn’t leave until his bag of weed and pills were produced. And then, inexplicably, he wasn’t shot on the side of the road or made to change his pants. It was an inauspicious start to our visit.

But despite the pain inflicted on us by the soap-dodger, I have to say that everything from there on in was allllll right. Although limited time and a desire to spend as much time as possible in the capital city of Buenos Aires meant that we missed large swathes of the country, I think I can conclusively say that this place is pretty awesome. And people in Argentina just know it, appreciate how lucky they are, and act accordingly. The awesomeness first presented itself to us when we were sitting at a restaurant beside the central plaza in Salta, a nice little city in the Northwest of the country. We were eating the world’s most delicious empanadas, which are addictive bready pockets filled with meat or cheese or chicken, and possibly poppies, when a small boy walked up to the plant approximately 7 feet away from us, pulled down his pants all the way to his ankles, put one hand up on the adjacent pillar like he was 12 cervezas deep, and proceeded to pee for a solid 30-40 seconds. His mother, either the best or worst on the planet, sauntered up behind her possibly trashed 5-year-old and gave our waiter a knowing laugh. Our waiter gave her his best slight-head-tilt-to-the-side smile while waving at her in a who-really-cares-if-this-kid-is-violating-laws-in-178-countries-we-have-cheap-steaks-and-delicious-empanadas-and-beautiful-women-everywhere kind of manner, and then everything returned to normal. And why wouldn’t it, everyone is just so casually happy and casually beautiful in Argentina. Wait to have dinner ‘til 11PM? Stay up ‘til 7AM in a nightclub 6 nights per week? Sleep in until 3PM? Cheap steaks and booze for all? Welcome to Argentina, where everyone follows social norms typically reserved for 20-year-old college students, degenerate gamblers and alcoholics in every single other country in the world. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

Salta wasn’t all fun and pee parties though, we did accidentally eat cow intestines, and we did stay in a hostel in which we were a distinct and unwelcome minority, but more on that farther down.

From Salta we hopped on a 24-hour bus-ride to Igaussu, which is a town situated in the Northeast-ish of the country, right on the border with Brazil and near Paraguay. The draw of Igaussu is the breathtaking natural wonder nearby, Igaussu Falls, a sight I’ve had high on my list ever since seeing the crazy French hitchhiker ( http://translate.google.com/translate?hl=en&sl=fr&tl=en&u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.ludovichubler.com%2F )’s photo of it 5ish years ago. It didn’t disappoint at all, and, speaking of Frenchmen, I could be heard muttering in a French accent much of the day. Evidence:
















We also hiked a jungle trail through Spidertown:



to find this incredible swimming hole near the Falls:




Next it was to the incomparable Buenos Aires. Ahhh Buenos Aires



There was the party scene, which, despite being bigger and better than all other party scenes, was still just filled with all those hilarious things that happen on your typical big night out… you know, telling people you are bush pilots from Manitoba, speaking broken spanglish while arguing about futbol with a local, putting the random friendly local in a friendly headlock, realizing this is a bad idea, buying tequila for all… yada yada telling people you are king-crab fishermen from the New Found Land… yada yada… suddenly realizing it is 6:30AM and being the first person to leave the bar and go home because you are a gutless Canadian, and also because you have been indulging since 5PM when the hockey game came on… waking up in a place that resembles Flanders Field more than a dorm room, genuinely concerned for all the bodies strewn everywhere… Pretty typical really.

Coming across this small piece of paper perhaps represents the happiest moment of my time in South America:



No need to point out that that is pathetic. And if you think that means I didn’t greatly enjoy myself in South America, then you just don’t know me well enough. Seriously though, I was beside myself with happiness, Hockey Day in Canada! THREE games! Canucks victory!

Overjoyed, or maybe just drunk:




On a definite sporting high and spurred on by our semi-successful jaunt to watch soccer/futbol in Bolivia, we decided to go see the Boca Juniors , an incredibly popular professional soccer club in Buenos Aires, play live. Luckily, they were playing against one of their rivals while we were there, the Argentine Juniors, but unluckily not at the actual Boca Juniors stadium.

We had heard many stories about the obsessive and downright scary tendencies of South American futbol fans, but by most accounts fans of the Boca Juniors are the most insane of all. Fans from the different teams have to sit in different sections to minimize homicides! There is apparently a Grant Theft Auto: Boca Juniors video game! There was even a story floating around about Requelme, Boca’s star, who had briefly transferred to a team in Europe a few years ago only to have his brother kidnapped by a deranged fan who wanted Requelme to return to play for Boca! A story like that has to be true!

So with this in mind and a feeling of genuine concern arising from the fact that our tickets were for Boca’s section of the stadium, Touch and I threw on our last clean clothes and caught our bus to the stadium, 3.5 hours before the game started. The early start for the gringos is so we could avoid the homicidal crowds entering the stadium and walk quickly through the six separate police pat-down checkpoints (How should one react to such an excessive (?) show of police attentiveness? Comforted or terrified?). Anyways, as we looked down at the clothes we had selected, Touch uttered a line just as ominous as many other famously inauspicious quotes from the past, such as “Fuck it, I’ll just go with the 97L bag” and “Fuck it Rich, let’s have a fourth kid” when he thought out loud “Gee, I hope the Argentine Juniors’ colours aren’t red and white.” While I, of course, found it absolutely hilarious when their colours were absolutely red and white, Touch had 3 hours before the game to sit and think about the difficulties that may arise from sitting in a team’s section, a team with fans irrational enough to believe that kidnapping family members of players will entice them to play there, wearing the other team’s colours. And on top of that, to appear to be a rich, godless American. Good times!





Pictures of the riot police through a hole in the stadium wall. Yes, there were cannonball-sized holes in the stadium wall.





Sadly for us and fortunately for him, the 3 hours preceding the game were the peak of Touch’s uncomfortableness, as we were seated in the very back corner of the stadium away from the barbed wire-scaling hooligans



and next to reserved families. He was forced to take off the shirt to exit the stadium alive though, high comedy.









A Potpourri of Definitely Random and Possibly Connected Drunken Musings From South America
-Dulce de leche is a caramelly substance with the consistency of nutella and the addictive properties of crack. It’s found throughout South America but for some inexplicable, despicable reason has not made inroads into the Northern hemisphere. It alone is worth the airfare.

-A little inside I know, but at about 2AM on one of our 24 bus-rides we realized that the impossibly bad movie that was on, “Passengers” starring the one and only Anne Hathaway, was partially filmed at the venerable UBC Law School building, may it rest in peace. Although it didn’t really feel like school without Jordan Wallpaper Watson sitting in the background stealing his $11.83 an hour to preside over the Distribution Centre or Professor Kleefeld’s rundown brother sleeping on the couch, this was a very exciting development at Hour 17 of the trip.

-A tip to the bug-eyed, teenage would-be muggers of Argentina: Don’t let me see you put your hand under your shirt in pretending to have a gun, or you will get a stiff slap to the wrist rather than money. I’m sorry, I know that probably hurt for all of 3 seconds, but us Canadians are not to be trifled with.

-#34 on the Life To Do List – Hear the Cranberries deliver a life-changing rendition of “Zombie” live.



I missed crossing this one off in Buenos Aires by two life-changing days. FML.

-Public Displays of Affection are egregious and found everywhere (I was going to use the word ‘ubiquitous’ here, but changed my mind when I realized I would get an email from Mikey informing me that I’m a loser. I disagree, by the by) in Buenos Aires. Intertwined Couples are like tumbleweeds blowing down the roads. We didn’t even find safety in our sports bar, as our hockey-watching was rudely interrupted by a tumbling couple that managed to not notice they were using us to stand up for a solid 45 seconds

-We went to an incredible drum show that devolved into a hilarious mosh pit, complete with the drummers leading all the spectators out of the venue to a bar afterwards in a dancing procession. If my life needs more of something, it's dancing processions to music. And of course there was the added hilarity of a guy standing on his buddy's shoulders most of the show and doing the screaming eagle:





-Walking sticks on hikes are useless unless they are used to supplement air-guitar performances, complete with jumping leg-kicks, through the Andes to “Lust for Life” by Iggy Pop

-A friend of a friend was once walking in Los Angeles when he saw Bill Murray, star of the incomparable comedy hit, Groundhog Day. Upon realizing he was in the presence of greatness, the young man excitedly stopped him to rant and rave about how much he loved him. Without uttering a word, Bill Murray looked him in the eyes, then quickly lunged at him, grabbed him in a headlock and gave him a noogie. After ten seconds, he let go and ran back in the direction he had come from. Before disappearing around the corner, he stopped, turned, and yelled “NOBODY IS EVER GOING TO BELIEVE YOU!” Then he was gone… Just when I thought it wasn’t possible for me to love Punxatawny Phil anymore… I am unable to get over this. Amazing.

WithmuchloveDunc

The Dude Abides.

5 Songs of the Mo’

1. Phoenix – 1901

2. MOP – Ante Up (Also featured on the RossFergalicious-inspired playlist “Hip to the Hop that You Don’t Dare Stop”)

3. The Stills – Being Here

4. Gordon Lightfoot – Carefree Highway (I would bet that Gordo was humming this little ditty a few years ago while solo-paddling his canoe through Algonquin Park at dusk when an unfortunate paddler, who happened to be the Uncle of my friend Rich, made the unfortunate mistake of interrupting his peaceful reflection to say that he was his biggest fan. Gordo’s legendary and gracious response: “Fuck Off”. Carefree Highway indeed.)

5. Yo La Tengo – Black Flowers

BOLIVIA

After surviving the Andes like a cannibalistic member of the Uruguayan Rugby team, I made for the capital of Bolivia, La Paz, which literally means “The Peace” (Educational blog!) to meet my pal Toulchy.

Despite its status as one of the poorest countries in South America, Bolivia is a fantastic place full of kind and funny people. Our short time there featured 5 notable highlights

(1) Bolivian Roads – Actually, these were such a lowlight that they somehow became a highlight, at least for me. For Toulch, it’s more likely that the Bolivian roads are the T that begat his PTSD. You see, whether this is smart or stupid, commendable or highly uncommendable, I’ve been on such absurd roads (for example, welcome to the Thai-Burma border

that the Bolivian variety were sort of fun.

Most of the buses we took were overnight, which was good because it allowed us to (theoretically) sleep through most of the ride. The roads were so ridiculously bumpy that I would usually just giggle for twenty minutes about how hilarious it was, be rocked to sleep and then not wake up for twelve hours. Right before falling asleep, I would usually mention to Toulchy that we were fine so long as the roads were either just really bad or just on a cliff, but if it was both then he could start worrying. Within 4 seconds of me falling asleep, the cliffy/bumpy/ohmyfuck section would begin, and so would Toulch’s sleepless night. Typically, at some point in the night, the bus would stop in the dark, in the middle of absolutely nowhere (aka “Lares”), for between 60 and 90 minutes while the bus drivers would scream what sounded to the untrained-in-Spanish ear to be something along the lines “Oh my god there’s so much blooood!”. It was usually around this time that I would start snoring, and that Toulch would start sobbing.

(2) In 1995, the Inter-American Development Road named the 69km width-challenged road connecting La Paz to Coroico in Bolivia “The World’s Most Dangerous Road”. An unintended consequence of bestowing this honour on the Yungas Road, which features shockingly precipitous cliffs and nary a patch of pavement, was to create an opportunity for savvy entrepreneurs to charge thrill-seeking idiots approximately 1/15 of the average Bolivian’s annual earnings to be driven to the top of this road so they could propel themselves down it. (Earmuffs Mama Fin) The day after we arrived in Bolivia, Mike and I were two of those idiots.

Those who know me best are aware that I may or may not be a “good” rider of bikes. Clearly not thinking of the implications for my ability to both balance on a contraption while pushing down peddles at the same time, my parents selfishly chose to live at the top of a massive hill so they could enjoy a “view”. Trying to bike down this hill would have meant certain death, so I turned to more important goals as a child, such as winning the Grade 5 Book-Reading Contest (And I did. And I won a pimp jean hat. Take that, Nicola Szibbo). But don’t you worry, I have come a long way (Shut up Mikey) and can now ably steer a bike downhill with the most average of ‘em, complete with the ability to turn away from cliffs and out of the path of trucks. And as a result of this hard-fought skill, and despite the fact that our guide resembled the homicidal sister from "So I Married An Axe Murderer", I have survived and can report that ohmyfuck was it fun. Getting to bike through such an isolated, gorgeous landscape surrounded by green mountains socked in with rain and fog was such a unique, brilliant experience. Evidence:

Rock on Touch
Ohmyfuck




Very humbling moments tho...

But don’t worry Mama Fin, it’s only the World’s Most Dangerous Road for people in cars, not for idiots on bikes.

(3) The World’s Most Delicious Pasta – If you ever happen to be heading to The Peace, Bolivia, get me on the goddamn phone so I can direct you to a meal that will haunt your dreams (in a good way). That’s unless, of course, you’re not willing to wait for 90 minutes after you order with a $1 litre of beer so the little old Bolivian woman can hand-roll your Gnocchi and throw together a little homemade pesto. I want you inside me! What? Nothing.

(4) Bolivian Futbol Game – While La Paz-ing through I also got to knock #79 off the Life To Do List by being in the stands to watch two rival South American football teams wage terrifying war upon each other. It was the first game of the Bolivian professional league’s season, and the two La Paz-based teams were playing. We walked the 30 minutes to the stadium and were absolutely blown away by the crowds, the noise and the pungent smells. We were looking for scalpers for tickets, but every time we saw one reveal they had tickets, they were engulfed by a crowd and literally (figuratively) never seen again. We were fortunate that one scalper surreptitiously sidled up to the only two blindingly white people in the crowd in order to completely screw them over with a sale 5 times the face value of the tickets. After paying this astronomical sum of 13 dollars CDN, we excitedly went to the gate, were met with uproarious laughter at what were clearly fake tickets, received pity, and were ultimately admitted into the game.

We had General Admission tickets without seats, so we found a place standing at the top of the stairs in the lower bowl and soaked in the indescribable atmosphere, the never-ending songs from the competing fan bases and the jaw-dropping skill of the players. We were surrounded by policemen who were attempting to maintain order, and maintain order they did. For example, to my surprise, the two guys standing one step below us, who resembled Kaiser Soze and cross-ethnic Chuck Norris, at least in my nightmares, were told to move back by the cops, and I’m not even exaggerating when I say they both started screaming at the top of their lungs. To my further surprise, they got in full-on shoving matches with the police, complete with full windup double-handed strikes to the policemen’s chests. And to my furtherest surprise, they were not beaten to death. Rather than being taken to jail, they were allowed to watch the rest of the game, beside me.

But honestly, what an incredible experience. We have a great video of a goal being scored and the crowd going apeshit, will try and post it soon

(5) The Salt Flats of Uyuni – Southern Bolivia features some of the world’s most starkly beautiful landscape. And really, other than saying that the Salt Flats of Uyuni would definitely be one of the world’s raddest places to have a game of road hockey (we discussed this for hours [you're welcome] and came up with an unbeatable top ten of the best places to play with the basic caveat that no construction could be done other than to bring in some nets and put in place some rudimentary boards, and the other basic caveat that this list has absolutely no place in practical reality.) The list, in no particular order:

(I) The Golden Gate Bridge

(II) Dubai Tennis Platform

(III) An Aircraft Carrier, preferably commanded by Gene Hackman

(IV) (Note, this beat out the Taj Mahal) The beachside road hockey court used by Gordon Bombay while he reflects in Mighty Ducks 2

(Surprisingly, Image not available, but this one is just as awesome)

(V) The Great Wall of China

(VI) The Platform Halfway Up the Eiffel Tower

(VII) The Skybridge connecting the Petronas Towers in Kuala Lumpur in Malaysia

(VIII) Times Square in NYC]

(VIX) The Roman Colosseum circa year 190AD complete with tigers that jump out of secret doors in the floor

And finally, (X) the Salt Flats of Uyuni, Bolivia

I didn't want you to find out this way, but I no longer have a head Viagra: It Can Work For You

Never, Marge! Never! I can't live the button-down life like you. I want it all: the dizzying highs, the terrifying lows, the creamy middles! Sure, I might offend some of the blue-noses with my cocky stride and musky odors! Oh, I'll never be the darling of the so-called City Fathers who cluck their tongues, stroke their beards and say, "What's to be done with this Homer Simpson?"

It Lied to us through Sign! I hate it when people do that

Independence Day

So, despite the fact that a laundry lady in La Paz inexplicably stole the zippers off of my only two sweatshirts and a pair of shorts, like a boss, I would highly recommend Bolivia.

Muchlovedunc