brasov departures: bryson you're 30!

a few years ago back when bryson was still in his 20's, we took a trip and backpacked across two continents. we wanted to explore south america and western/eastern europe and so we hustled all summer of 2009 and saved enough cash and made our trip a reality. the plan was simple at the time: one month in south america and one month in europe.

things didn't pan out to be as easy as i thought. this 2-month odyssey had us in some interesting situations. we were stranded overnight inside a bus in the bitter-cold of the peruvian andes, abandoned by our tour guide in machu pichu, distressed and living in panama tocumen airport, detained at the argentinian/chilean border, lost in some sketchy malls in bogota, supported each other through painful dry heaving in barcelona, missed busses, trains and flights throughout spain and italy, navigated through shady bucharest trying to find housing in someone's makeshift hostel/living room, and avoided black bears on our hike through brasov's forrest. we flew to 8 different countries and our journey took us as east as romania and would've taken us south through bulgaria and finally to istanbul. sadly though one of us wouldn't make it that far.

i ended up taking a train north to budapest and continued to prague ending in dublin. being the coward that i was i didn't even say goodbye to bryson and i can still remember that morning as i nervously paced back & forth through the bathroom corridor. in the end i opted last minute to tell a new friend i'd met in our hostel to relay the message that i was leaving.

i used to look back at our trip and all i would see were the things that went wrong, the things that didn't go according to plan. the truth is that i was to blame for a lot that happened; the choice was mine and i chose wrongly. my childish anger and selfishness blinded me from seeing all of the beauty and kept me from remembering the amazing experiences we had during our trip.

the educational videos we made in machu pichu, the old man we saved on our bus ride to santiago, chilean independence day in valparaiso, being personally escorted to the correct bus stop by a concerned stranger in bogota, enjoying the gentle fall breeze in barcelona, wandering aimlessly through roman ruins, hanging from the side of a moving train and smelling the transylvanian countryside and countless other moments heavily outweighed what i deemed as "bad"

it took some time but we were finally able to hash things out. since then we've been solid and even though we don't work together anymore and happen to live thousands of miles away from each other, i know that he'll always be there; he's just that type of guy. friends like bryson are a rare breed and i can only thank God that i still have the privilege to call him a friend.

bryson, today you enter a new and strange chapter in your life. a time when you'll probably start wearing wrangler jeans, start hanging out with random cats, and pick up bird watching as a hobby. i just want to say that i had a blast getting to know you these past few years and i look forward to what our thirties have in store for us.

love you man,
feliz cumpleaños güey!

my darkest coldest week

a few weeks ago i found myself a few thousands miles south of home in patagonia, argentina and along the way i stopped to check out the perito moreno glacier. to those who never been, the experience is nothing short of magnificent, one that will definitely live with me forever. i remember how the ice fell, tiny bits at first. but as those pieces slowly began to fall, bigger and bigger ones also began to drop. the crowds quickly took notice and they all gathered with cameras raised high. they waited and waited, i waited but nothing happened; the ice held. so the people left and went about their business.


i stayed.
i just knew that there was no way in hell that mountain of ice was going to hold. i waited and nothing, i couldn't believe it! i studied the area closely, the pattern in which the ice fell, where the ice was chipping away from, saw how dark and dirty the ice around the area had become, this had to be it. all around me i could hear the gasps of others as more ice mounds fell into the murky lake. i was not impressed



 i waited and waited and began to lose hope that this was ever going to happen. but then the sun came out of the clouds, it was gentle and warm. the sun's rays must've helped because soon after this 60-ft wall began to fall. the sound was so loud and it created mini tsunamis across the lake. the awe was short-lived though, i don't know it all just became so sad to me. who knows for how long this giant sheet of ice had been standing for. it just seemed so depressing at the time to see it go under. soon after as the dirty wall laid waste in the murk, my eyes were instantly drawn to what was now before me. there was a new wall with no dirt with no imperfections, it was clear and pure. in it was one of the most beautiful blues that i had ever seen and i just could not get over it. the glow was unreal.


magnificent as all of this was, the foreshadowing of it all is even greater and it is now that i clearly see God's hand in all of it. two weeks ago my life began to slowly crumble and fall into a cold and lonely abyss. it felt as if the pieces would never stop chipping away but eventually the mountain inside of me came crashing down and with it my selfish and stubborn heart, the hate, everything, it all went down.

seven days ago i didn't know what kind of man i was going to be. i was in a dark place, i was alone and the lights were definitely out. so i did what i was taught as a young boy, i got on my knees and i prayed. the God of my youth, the one who would miraculously provide me with random rides back home from late night football practices, the one who kept me safe on a 10-hour train ride from kiev to odessa, the one who didn't let me drown and let the rip current take me away in busan, the one who had me be 10 minutes late to my lunch and miss the cross-hairs of the lax shooter, this same God began to do his mighty work in me. He is my master Surgeon and the only one that could ever get me through this.

i don't deserve the amount of grace that's been given to me but i'm definitely not mad about it. its easy to focus on what's on the outside but looking beyond and seeing what truly matters, what glows and what will last forever, that's what it's all about.
if you know me, keep me in your prayers, if you don't then please start and add me to your line-up. i most def need it

Patagonia Day 3: El Chalten

the bus to el chalten left at 8:00am from the el calafate bus station. the online weather report read a high of 70. i debated on whether to bring my massive north face jacket or simply bring my vest. i chose the latter and headed downstairs for some brekkie.

i didn't know much about el chalten and i was bit bummed that i wasn't going to see torres del paine on this trip. i shrugged off the disappointment, finished my coffee and walked to the bus station where we greeted the friendly town dogs who at the moment were hustling an asian backpacker for her half-full coca-cola bottle. the dogs won and went on

the bus ride took about three hours. it was pretty much a straight shot north of el calafate; mostly plain, the drive reminded me alot of arizona. and then mount fitz roy and happened and i was left speechless.

it didn't make sense. come to think of it, much of what i saw in patagonia didn't make sense. how can something that massive sneak up on someone like that? i honestly don't know but it was ridiculous. it was as if from one moment all you saw were flat plains and small hills, to the next sitting at the shadow of this giant postcard of a mountain. i couldn't get my eyes off it.

when we finally got to el chalten, breean and i had befriended a couple from mendoza, argentina, fernando y carolina. real nice, funny genuine people. there were many hikes that led you to fitz roy, each one had their own selling point. we decided to take the one with the lake on top.

stunning views of the valley and surrounding mountains were constantly present as we slowly ascended up the steep trail. it took us about 2 hours to hike 4 km. it was tough but completely worth it. when you finally reach the lake you pause and wonder how all of this is even real.


every single element is intertwined here, which makes mount fitz roy one of the most stunning and beautiful things i've ever seen:

the snow capped mountains,
the looming clouds and changing contrasts,
the melting glacier and waterfall in the background,
the fresh lake sitting at the foothill,
the list goes on.

i began to walk towards the edge of the lake and i filled up the nalgene bottle. i hesitated for second, then took a sip and then i took another, and then the bottle was empty again. the water was fresh, it was clean, it was what it supposed to be, it was simply good. we spent an hour lounging and exploring around the lake. then i sat for a bit and savored the last few moments. it was sad, i didn't want to leave.

the trek down was nice but it began to get a bit windy. for some reason it felt a bit longer going down than up. when we finally got to the bottom of the trail we found a hostel and had a few quilmes bocks. we got to know a bit more of our new mendoza friends. shortly after we hopped on the bus and headed back to el calafate.

i slept most of the drive.

Patagonia Day 2: Perito Moreno

perito moreno is an hour and half long bus ride from el calafate, argentina and the road is riddled with many dips, twists, and turns. when perito finally shows its face, it just doesn't make sense. your mind just does not want to accept it; its kind of like someone telling you about "the matrix" for the first time. and as if the sheer magnitude of it all wasn't enough, what makes perito moreno even more special are its many traits that loudly compliments its whole. 

the dark and light blue colors trapped inside the ice

the incredible sharp and jagged mountain backdrop that holds perito moreno up 

the eerie sound of mountains of ice free falling into the murky lake 

time flies when you're out here and you can easily spend hours starring at the silence. but without warning the silence is pierced by a faint crack like that of a massive tree thats about to fall. a few seconds later an unseen explosion deep within the belly of this icy giant belches and then a wall thousands of years old begins to slowly tumble before your eyes. with this wall now floating on the lake a new wall never seen before emerges displaying a bright blue glow. a beautiful sight and all and i was very blessed to have witnessed it. 

i'm not sure how much longer perito moreno has. scientists say the planet is getting warmer at an alarming rate. i hope there's enough time to correct our ways; who knows, maybe when i have kids i might be able to share the same experience with them. 

Patagonia Day 1: El Calafate

its wednesday morning here at the i keu ken hostel lobby and at the moment i enjoy the usual servings: coffee, bread, and wifi. the journey to patagonia was rough. it consisted of a 6 hour flight from lax to panama (with a 5-hour layover), a 7-hour flight from panama to buenos aires (with a 3-hour layover), and finally a 5-hour flight from buenos aires to el calafate with a stop in bariloche, argentina.

now that i'm at the end of the world, i think i'll start the day with scoping out patagonia's glacier perito moreno and take it from there.

morocco: in retrospect by essaouira

sitting inside this capsule, i travel west towards my home.

home

i dont even know where that is anymore. the more i go on these trips the more distant everthing else becomes. morocco was such an unexpected turn in what i thought i knew. the sixth continent yet to visit and it only happens to be the tip of a big big sub-saharan iceberg. 7 years almost sailed by without giving this chunk of dirt a visit and its now that i realize i've missed so much. 

the cradle of civilization is what they call this place. maybe not morocco exactly but i'm definitely closer to it that i've ever been.  i'm not going to pretend to say that i've got this place figured out because i'm far from it. 

but what i will say is that from the minute of landing and interacting with the moroccans, i sensed something familiar. kind of like seeing that side of the family you vaguely remember as a kid

i was only in essaouira for a day and a half but things kind of clicked here. not exactly sure how or why it came to be.

i thought about the man who showed us his beautiful riads full of beautiful & magnificent hand woven rugs, i thought about magic greeting us at our hostel door in essaouira probably baked out of his mind struggling to check us in, i thought about the night i walked out of a random marrakeshi barbeshop having experienced one of the best shaves in my life while laughing and having a great time. 

all of these moments, they all congealed in essa.

to essa, the sleepy town that woke me.

a stranger: eid in marrakesh

it hasn't been but a few days since i last walked the streets of marrakesh during the holy day but the sights and smells of that day are still quite fresh in my mind. 

the day began with some tea and bread atop the hostel roof terrace. junice and i met up with stephanie and edith, two french girls we had the pleasure of befriending over the weekend. we quickly stuffed our faces with bread dipped in fresh apricot marmalade and walked downstairs. 

as we meandered through the dusty streets, i noticed something strange. the daily buzz of running children, motorcycle engines, local haggling, all of it was non-existent. the streets were all filled with an eerie calm. i looked at the time and it was 10:07am, which meant that the residents of marrakesh had already begun the slaughter. i'm not sure what exactly i was expecting, it was all just very strange.

by the time we got to souks market and medina square, we found it to be practically empty. no henna tattoo artists, no snake charmers, no monkey wranglers, all were gone for eid. we kept walking and spoke with a man we had met the previous night while i was getting my beard trimmed (an experience in it of itself). he recommended we check the tombs next to the palace walls, or something like that. we walked towards the direction he pointed us but when we got there we found it to be closed. 

it was a bummer at first, but we kept walking, aimlessly really. after a few beats though, we found ourselves in small corridors deep inside the unknown neighborhoods. this is the part where things really began to get interesting. 

as we walked through these long skinny corridors the light and mood of the place began to change. a teenager walk outside with a basket filled with freshly stripped sheep skin, wool intact; they were practically sweaters. he gave us a kind smile and quickly walked past us and headed to God knows where. i looked at the girls and even though they didn't really want to verbalize it, they knew what was up. deeper and deeper into this catacomb, we would see the same thing, but then it changed from sheepskins to stomachs, then limbs and eventually heads. 

from the corner of my eyes i would see doors opening and quickly closing as we walked past by them. "what was behind them!" was all i kept asking myself. my curiosity burned until i finally saw an opening. a little girl with mom opened a door and were about to quickly close it but i smiled, waived and yelled "salaam!" the mother slowly opened the door and returned the greeting. behind her, hanging from the roof, the fresh carcass of a naked sheep hung freely. the husband was right next to it and he waived at me with his butchers knife. i asked for permission to take a picture and he smiled and said of course. the girls were behind me the whole time and they were troopers, mostly. edith was probably the most visibly affected by the sight of the hanging carcass. 

we began to move our feet again. the streets now began to come alive as bikes quickly and sometimes dangerously zoomed by us as they carried their precious cargo of random sheep flesh - one bike actually crashed head on with a french or spanish woman. she was ok i think - outside homes teenage boys pulled out wood and old metal mattress frames and other types of metal amalgamations. soon after this was when the heads began to show up. once the fire was going, homes would bring out the heads of their former livestock and began placing them on the street fires to cook. it was definitely a sight to see. we came across a group of teenagers who were in charge of one of the many fires and asked them if we could take pictures, they said sure. 

we came across more of these as we walked and edith and stephanie's curiosity of the burning heads led us to ask a group of both teenagers and elders exactly whay they did with the heads. in a nutshell, this is what they told us: 

we cook the head, we crack the head, we eat the brains, we eat the tongue, and we eat whatever is in the middle. 

sounded wonderful to me

it was barely one in the afternoon when we got back to our hostel. everything was pretty much closed in marrakesh so i went to my room, laid in bed and reflected on the events that had just transpired. 

and i continue to still do so