They stole my damn dental floss...

...and almost everything else of value that I own. Thus, my first day in Guatemala wasn´t spent admiring volcanos and talking with locals. Rather, it was spent at the American Embassy applying for a new passport, canceling credit cards, and grieving over the loss of all my camera equipment. Oh well, I was bound to happen sooner or later. I have covered way too many miles over the past several years not to have been robbed. I am just upset because it was aviodable and will prove to be extremely expensive. Live and learn. On the bright side, a number of gracious people helped me yesterday. The man and his family who offered me money and lunch was more than touching. The nice Guatemalan girl who gave me her e-mail address, phone number, and a recommendation for a place to stay proved very useful. And all the people at the Los Lagos Bed and Breakfast for trying to cheer me up. I thank all of them.

Now I find myself in the back room of a small paper store in "Chi Chi" Guatemala. I arrived here a couple hours ago via a chicken bus from Guatemala City. Chi Chi was my second choice, the first being Xela, which did not occur due to my stupidity on the bus yesterday. I would love to post pictures of this rough highland town, but I can´t, as my camera was lost in the fiasco. The bus ride was very memorable. Think elementary school bus, but with 3-4 adults to each seat and a driver who was trying to beat his own personal Guat City to Chi Chi land speed record. Did I think we were going to make it safely? Sort of. But did we? Yes.

Anyhow, this is going to be a short entry. As I write I realize it I am not really in the mood to do so. I will spend two nights here before heading back to Guatemala City to pick up my friend Tayllor. From there it will be off to Antigua, with many more stops throughout Guatemala to follow. I must say, while I have only been here for a couple days I am ready to see a familiar face.

Making Up for Lost Time

Jetlag is a funny thing. I should know. For the second time in as many weeks I am in the throes of being lagged. And while the negative aspects of a thirteen-hour time change done twice in a week are probably well documented, the positive attributes are more likely to be lost in the haze of time travel. One of those positive aspects is the remarkable productivity that occurs during the early morning hours of the workday. Always wanted to work out at dawn? Enjoy watching the sunrise? Ever felt the need to wake up at 1:30 in the morning to write a blog entry? Come to Singapore.

So I suppose I should note that yes, I have been extremely lazy over the past month in terms of updating my blog. While unfortunate, it was necessary. I needed to get out in the world and experience some things so that my entry didn't only consist of the mundane aspects of my daily life here in Singapore. Remember, for every two day trip I take beyond the shores of my little island state, there are five days in which I am forced to don business casual clothing and make presentations in Power Point. With that said, I have decided to productively use these unlit hours of the day to share some stories from the past month.

My last entry chronicled the adventures of the Hong Kong Triad as we explored that small, extra-special island of the People's Republic of China. What has happened since then? Well, in addition to working, doing laundry, and eating, I spent my weekends in the neighboring countries of Indonesia and Malaysia. Additionally, I made a brief, but extremely fulfilling trip back to the States.


Indonesia. Fifty-five minutes from the coast of Singapore, by means of a luxurious high speed ferry, lies the northern tip of the Indonesian island of Bintan. There one can find five-star resorts, world-class golfing, palm-lined beaches, and a number of other hyphenated attractions (have I used that line before?). Apparently it is remarkable. I wouldn't know; I didn't go. Instead, I boarded a slightly more outdated ferry for the two and a half hour trip to Tanjung Pinang on the southern end of the island. While the northern end of Bintan is essentially an extension of Singapore's style and grace, the rest of the island is, well, developing. Now, keep in mind, I do not mean developing in a negative sense. Rather, I welcomed the chaotic streets, fragrant foods, and overall dusty nature of my point of disembarkation. As expected, and characteristic of every developing country I have ever been to, I was met by two things upon arrival: stray dogs and a throng of local 'tourist guides' seeking my attention. Well, a guide named Raymond finally earned my attention, but it wasn't easy. I suppose I am become a little bit more skeptical of people's intentions in my old age. When I was younger I would just toss my bag in the back of a car and head off to whatever hostel they claimed to represent. "Oh, you said it was called 'Mugandleavefordead Youth Hostel'? Sounds nice, let's go!" Now I actually ask questions. For Raymond, he earned my business by accompanying me from place to place while I ran various errands and concurrently asked inane questions about Bintan, Indonesia, and his life. I figured any would-be thief wouldn't have put up with such crap. So off we went to the east coast of Bintan, to a promised resort with huts on the beach where I could spend a couple of days relaxing. However, after an hours drive what we came to was a very shady shack-of-a resort with a old Englishman and a Malaysian prostitute playing cards on the front porch. Bad vibe. After promising Raymond that I would pay his commission in exchange for a less-than-shady place to stay, we hopped back in the truck and headed back along the coast to a number of less, well, brothel-like locales. So what did we find? A group of thatched-roof huts on stilts situated a few hundred yards out in the middle of the South China Sea. A slight upgrade, to say the least.


The weekend was full of reading and, well, reading. On Sunday Raymond returned to the east coast to pick me up and take me on a tour of Tanjung Pinang. There we found a fisherman whom we paid to take us around the Indonesian port town in his boat. For several hours I was able to visit mosques, temples, and churches before finally catching my ferry back to Singapore.


Whew...Indonesia. So, a week later I was off again, this time to the Malaysian capital of Kuala Lumpur. For some reason Kuala Lumpur, or KL, has always seemed like one of the more exotic cities on the planet. And it is, to an extent. The prevalence of very cheap luxury hotels and shopping malls is not necessarily exotic. However, as a Muslim country, both the people and the number of mosques made KL a unique destination. I should note that while Indonesia is a Muslim country, the island of Bintan isn't overtly so. However, Malaysia, as another Muslim country, was, which made it all the more interesting. It was the first country I had ever visited in my life where seeing a woman in a burqua was not uncommon whatsoever.


So...KL. I was pretty much on a Mosque hunt, trying to take in as many religious sites as possible In addition to the mosques, I spent a significant amount of time at the KL city centre, which includes the world famous Petronas Towers and a man who was adamant that I befriend his daughter and take her back to the states with me. My weekend was punctuated by a visit to a phenomenal Chinese restaurant in a local shop house. I had passed it many times on my way to the subway. While seemingly simple, consisting of a number of tables in what was essentially an open garage space, I noticed that it was always extremely busy. Following the travelers rule, which is that the best food is always found where the crowds are, I decided to visit for lunch. To say that I wasn't even remotely disappointed would be an understatement. The chicken curry rice that was recommended to me was phenomenal, as was the ice coffee and frenetic atmosphere of a local's hotspot. That restaurant was the highlight of my weekend.


And finally, my last week, which was spent working in suburban Chicago and celebrating with my best friends in the city. The work week was spent in meetings with people who prior only knew me as a voice on the phone. It culminated with a presentation to the executive group on the work that I have completed for the summer. The weekend was about fun. I was lucky enough to spend it with my best friends celebrating the upcoming marriage of Jonathan Greer. Debauchery? Yes. Fun? More so.

Of course, between these trips I have explored Singapore. I have found that beyond the seemingly sterile surface lies a flavorful mix of Asian culture. I suppose, to further explain, if my trip back to the States did anything for me it was that it made me realize how much I am really enjoying my time here in Singapore.

So, what's next? Friday morning I leave for a long weekend in Cambodia. Afterwards, in just a couple of weeks, this dream will come to an end. I am reaching the twilight of my summer, which means that I am on the precipice of my return to the real world. I suppose, if you think about it, graduate school isn't real at all. Did I pull the Golden Ticket for the summer? Yes. How? No clue, but I would be remiss to say that I wasn't grateful for it.

Looking at the clock I realize that it is 3:50 am. Over the past two-plus hours I have written my blog, ventured downstairs for some instant ramen and a beer, and become tired once again. Until next time...

The Adventures of the Hong Kong Triad

The Hong Kong Special Administrative Region. It just sounds exotic. Not sure why, but the island city in the South China Sea has always beckoned for a visit. I finally relented this past weekend and set forth for what I would like to call, "China Light".

My co-conspirators, or The Hong Kong Triad, as I will dub our little group, met up on Friday evening in the city. I have known Tim (Janke) and Dawn since I was a wide-eyed and fresh-faced college grad just starting at Deloitte. By the time I had commenced work with the firm they were already seasoned Deloitte veterans. Thus, it was Tim and Dawn, along with many others, who taught me how to survive the rough and tumble world of dispute consulting. Truth be told, that pretty much entailed developing a taste for beer and an obsession with airline and hotel rewards programs.


Anyhow, Janke has been living and working in Hong Kong for the past few years, so he would be the host and guide for the weekend. His place near centrally-located Lan Kwai Fong was the perfect stepping off point to explore everything the city had to offer. Moreover, his child-at-heart approach to the Hong Kong social scene made our proximity to the HK nightlife even more helpful.


So what did we do? Apart from hanging out with Hong Kong's Finest? Oh, stuff and things. We spent a lot of time walking around Central Hong Kong and in the hills above the city. While on our jaunts, Janke shared with us colorful tales about the history of many of the buildings and some of the urban legends surrounding HK. While he prefaced each of these stories by explaining that they were gathered piecemeal from other people, I was able to later Wikipedia them to ensure their validity. On a side note, some people don’t trust Wikipedia. However, anything that contains obscure information such as the fact that Dolf Lundgren, or Ivan Drago for you Rocky IV fans, was awarded a Fulbright Scholarship and studied at MIT before interrupting his studies to become a lightly acclaimed actor, must be trusted in all respects. Regardless, apart from walking miles around the city we also ate great food, had good drinks, and enjoyed some of the festivities marking the 10th anniversary of the HK handover to China.

A few other things to note:
1.) Asian budget airlines were not made for anyone taller than 5’6”. Four hours of near-fetal position travel is not nearly as fun as it sounds.
2.) My admin Jamie and I bought lottery tickets today. Well, I gave her the numbers and she bought the tickets. In exchange for running mathematically vigorous exercises that included regressions, derivatives, integrals, and picking numbers based on second cousins’ birthdays, I will receive 10% of the overall winnings…$500,000 Singaporean for those of you who are counting. If we win everyone is coming to Singapore. Wish us luck.
3.) I am sick right now. I don’t think it is SARS, but I will keep you posted. Conventional wisdom would blame it on my lack of sleep, extensive travel, and overall unhealthiness while in Hong Kong. However, I believe it is one of those rare air condition-induced colds. I honestly believe that going from 60 to 90 degrees and vice versa multiple times per day must have long-term adverse health effects.

I'M A MERLION! MER-LION!!

When a Brazilian athlete reaches some particular level of fame it becomes socially acceptable, if not required, for that athlete to drop a portion of his name and, henceforth, be referred to by a single moniker. Such athletes include Pele, Ronaldo, Nene, and P-Diddy. Well, Singapore is the Brazilian athlete of Southeast Asia. It was born into poverty, worked hard under the guidance of a hard-ass coach, went solo, and is now reaping the benefits in the form of high-speed escalators, 24-hour McDonald's, and giant Merlion statues in the harbour. Singapore; it is a tremendous story of beating the odds, really.

So now that I have officially been here a week and the jet-lag induced diatribes that filled my last entry have somewhat subsided, I believe I am ready to give a "so these are my feelings towards Singapore after a week" entry.

I like it. I do. Sure, it is a clean and a bit sterile, but those are just the malls. And yes, while it is physically impossible to go ANYWHERE without having to walk through at least one mall, having to do so is worth it, as the city that lies adjacent to the Body Shop, to the left of Sony store, and just past the Gap, is a flavorful, colorful, and fascinating one that rivals anywhere I have ever been.

The most notable aspect of Singapore, one that will rarely be debated by anyone who visits our little island, is the quality of food. Amazing. I have found myself stuffing my face full of dumplings, curry, fried rice, more dumplings, chili crab, ramen (the real kind), and dishes that I just point to and hope for the best. From fancy restaurants to hawker stands with picnic tables, there is something, something damn good, for everybody.


Neighborhoods. I have walked miles and miles this weekend. From Little India and the Arab Quarter, to Chinatown and the Central Business District, I hit them all, and I like them all as well. The cultural diversity of Singapore is incredible. It is a true crossroads, not only of business, but of culture as well.

One of my favorites was Little India. It is a little frenetic and smells of incense and curry, which is what attracted me in the first place. Another was Chinatown, which is a mix of being artistically and architecturally significant, and being corny. The first time I went, last week, I only saw the latter. Today I was introduced to the former, and loved it. I plan on being back there a lot this summer. Overall, I can't wait to get to know what the city as a whole has to offer.

The weather. It is hot and humid...and do you want to know something? I am ok with it. I really thought it was going to bother me more than it has. Will it get old? Yes. Will I welcome the weather in Berkeley when I return? More than anything. But until then, I am ok being gross and sweaty all the time. Weird, I know.


Activities. I went out on Friday night, on my own, looking for trouble. Well, trouble is hard to find in Singapore unless you are chewing gum or spitting. What I did find was Clarke Quay and some really nice people to chat with and have a beer. That was the start of my weekend.


I ended it by attending Bornfire, a fire spinning show that was part of the Singapore Arts Festival. Absolutely fascinating. And, as you can see by the pictures, bright and somewhat dangerous. Slowly but surely I am starting to get to know the city. I am excited that as the summer progresses I will me more people and attend more unique events. And, hopefully, find some trouble.

Finally, my job; it is why I am here, after all. One word: lucky. I don't know how I was able to land such a great opportunity. Essentially, on a high level, I am working to reorganize the way the human resource services are provided and managed for the entire Asia Pacific region. My charge for the summer is to create shared service centers so that the HR services that the company provides can be as efficient and effective as possible. What is great is that I am kind of running on my own here; basically I am acting like a consultant. My boss, who is an absolutely wonderful Irishwoman, gave me a short intro on Monday and now I am off and running. Am I scared? Kind of. Am I a little lost? Yes. Am I excited? Very. There is a lot to say about my job and the opportunity, but I will probably have plenty of time to detail the happenings as my summer progresses.


So what's next? Things. I am going to spend next weekend in Hong Kong. For you Deloitters out there, think way back. Waaaayyyyy back. Now, think plaid. Are you there? Are you thinking of Janke? Yep, Janke, D-Nice (who is in Beijing), and myself are all meeting in Hong Kong as a sort of Deloitte reunion, HK style. Some of you out there, and you know who you are, should turn your cell phones off for the weekend. Then it looks like I will be heading to Seoul, Korea, for work the week after. Depending on how work goes, and what type of travel budget my boss thinks I should have, I could be visiting a lot of places for work this summer. We'll see.

Oh, and for you Berkeleyans, six words: Aneesh arrives tomorrow for the summer. Yep. Singapore will never be the same.

Alright. Many of you are just waking up to start your Sunday. I just yawned and am about to prepare myself for bed so that I can be fresh for my Monday. With that said, I hope everyone is doing well. Shoot me an e-mail or call me (I have a cell phone now: +65 97580967), as I would love to talk to each of you and share more of Singapore with you. Until next time...

Jetlag-Induced Ramblings

These are just ramblings. They were compiled during the haze of what has been my past few days. Some where recorded during the flight from San Francisco to Singapore, while others were written at five in the morning when I was wide awake because my body has yet to adapt to the fifteen hour time difference between California and Singapore. Anyhow, I have only changed them a little, as I think they are kind of funny now that I am somewhat coherent. I will be sure to write a real update tomorrow...or sometime. It will include a real impression of Singapore, and some information about my project, which is a really wonderful opportunity that I am excited to share with everyone.


I. The Flight to Singapore

I am currently over the north Pacific hurtling at 34,000 feet in a glorified pop can towards Tokyo. We just passed the international dateline, which, in a way, still baffles me. About 75% of the occupants here in coach are high school students in some student ambassador group. They are probably going overseas to be exposed to new cultures, do community service, and get drunk for the first time...or at least for the first time legally.

At first I was worried that I was going to be stuck sitting next to one of them. I imagined annoying high school conversations entailing fifteen kids hovering near my seat while discussing what it is going to be like away from one’s parents, who on the trip is going to hook up, and who has cooties. However, I am actually sitting next to the equivalent of two high schoolers in the form of a single person. This apparently explains why I am only entitled to 78% of my seat. This rarely happens to me on short domestic flights, but always happens when the length of the flight exceeds 8 hours. Therefore, in retrospect I was wrong about sitting next to a high schooler. Since the average high school guy is about six foot, 105 pounds, I probably would have had room to spare instead of playing footsie with an overweight middle-aged man for the 11 hour flight to Tokyo.

Roeper from the show "Ebert and Roeper" now does a mini “review” prior to each movie shown on United. It is actually a pretty cool idea. The best part is that he tries as hard as he can to justify why I should spend the next two hours of my life watching the Tim Allen, Martin Lawrence, John Travolta epic, “Wild Hogs”. Instead of saying something about how it appeals to the adventurous spirit of middle-aged men he should just say, “You are on an eleven hour flight. What the hell else are you going to do right now?”

II. Singapore and My Apartment

I live in a shopping mall. The first six floors of my building is the mall called the Far East Plaza. I walk by three shopping malls to catch the subway, which is in a shopping mall. I transfer trains in a shopping mall. The subway lets me off at work, which is located in a shopping mall. After work I went to the grocery store for some essentials. It was in the basement of a shopping mall. I then grabbed some green curry…in a shopping mall. Freaking Singapore. On the bright side, I like that I can buy cheap electronics or have suits made if needed.


My apartment is great. It is a two bedroom on the twenty-third floor of the building. The kitchen is simple, which works since I don’t cook. The living room has floor to ceiling windows providing a view of my balcony, and beyond that, the skyline of southwest Singapore. It’s a pretty badass view, I must say.

I left my neighborhood, Orchard Road, or as Lonely Planet puts it, a blitzkrieg of shopping, yesterday to explore a bit. I went to the entertainment area of Clarke Quay and then found my way to Chinatown. I am not sure why Singapore needs a Chinatown since a majority of the people here are of Chinese descent. It is akin to having a Chinatown in Beijing. Or a Little America in Cheyenne…which exists. Ok, never mind, it makes sense.

I found a good radio station: Singapore’s 91.3, 100% Pure Fun. It plays good mix between music I currently love and music I loved when I was fourteen. Playing right now: Now That We Found Love What Are We Going to Do With It? By Heavy D & The Boyz. Which, by the way, is a good question.

The humidity is going to kill me. While I can say that my time exploring the town was meant to get my bearings, it would be a lie. More or less I was on an island-wide search for air conditioning.

Singaporean English, or Singlish, is ridiculous. Apparently they speak English here in Singapore. I haven’t heard it yet. I have heard Hindi, Malay, Chinese, and a language that sounds kind of like English, but whose word order is mixed up and lacks pronouns. However, I do like the fact that everything is written in four languages. Singapore definitely lives up to its multi-cultural billing.

I just had the greatest toast of my life. On the surface it was just bread, butter, and some sort of jam…but it was amazing. I have no idea what they put on it, but I suspect it was crack.

An Epilogue...and a Prologue

I am where I started: sitting on my uncomfortable wooden IKEA chair at my functional IKEA desk, acting pensive and thoughtful, and typing about my travels. As promised (ok, not promised, more like proposed) here is my one-third-trip epilogue-prologue. Essentially, I will give a few final thoughts on my trip to South America and will lay out a few hopes and aspirations for my forthcoming trip to Singapore.


I was worried about heading to South America. My concerns weren't constructed in the traditional sense. I wasn't worried about safety, logistics, health, and the like. Rather, I was worried about how we were going to construct our research project, who we were going to talk to in order to obtain sufficient information within that construct, and whether or not we as a team were even going to be able to stand each other after three weeks. Oh, and I was worried about whether or not I was going to survive Luke's snoring. But it was all for not. I am happy with the work we did; my expectations were exceeded. Moreover, I loved the people I traveled with. From the five Israelis in Bolivia, to Luke and Niels, and everyone in-between, I am happy I was able to experience South America with these people. Oh, and the snoring? iPods are amazing snore-neutralizers.


Now I am trading the muddy roads of Peruvian villages for the spit-shined ones of Singapore. Moto-taxis will be traded for the subway, civiche will be traded for curry, and $2 beers will be traded for those that cost $12. Overall, it is going to be a significant change...obviously. However, I think this is mainly due to the fact that I have never really lived in a shopping mall before.


Anyhow, there is so much I look forward to in Singapore: the mixture of cultures, the proximity of exciting destinations, and the 60%-off sales that are perpetually occurring at any one of the 75,247 malls located on the island. I am also looking forward to a paycheck. While cubicle life isn't entirely inviting, being able to buy items with money that is not subject to 7% compounding interest will be nice.

So there you have it. Pretty skimpy on the hopes and aspirations, but I can imagine that several will come to me during the 18 hour flight to Singapore. In fact, I bet they will include aspiring to find a way off of the plane, and hoping that I won't be stuck in the "United coach-seat" position for the rest of my life.


Finally...the pictures. I took over 600 of them. I have posted a few here, but I plan to post my favorite ones a photo sharing site for all to see. Some are good. Some are bad. Some are frameable. I will post the link once I have posted them.

Alright...for those of you I saw in California: Thanks. It was nice to have a little "home" for a couple of days. For the rest of you: I will see you soon. Until then, keep in touch. Skype me (paulderemer), e-mail me, or call me (will give a number once I have a phone).

Goodbye Campo...Hello Hot Shower

Pardos Chicken is a chain of mid-scale carnivore-pleasing food establishments here in Peru. There can order a wide variety of meaty treats, from steak and sausages to all sizes of roasted chickens. Additionally, which may not seem obvious at first, if one is lucky enough and in the port city of Chiclayo at the right time, one can hang out with the contestants of the Miss Peru 2007 competition as they have a meal prior to the big show. This is a good thing, as fresh from several days without showering and after traveling for nearly twenty-four hours, this was exactly what Luke and I were looking for when we decided to kill some time as we waited for our unnecessarily-delayed flight to leave for Lima. Did we do anything to take advantage of our situation? Of course not. Who are we to a bunch of sash-wearing beauty queens? That and the fact we smelled like rural Peru somewhat precluded us from talking to the contestants. However, our disheveled state did not prevent us from realizing, once again, that the serendipitous nature of our trip had provided us with yet another entertaining moment to share.

So here we are in Lima; back in the big town. The positives of being back in Lima include an abundance of ceviche, a warm shower, and our dress coats.

So what has happened since I last blogged? Lots. When I last wrote I was recovering from a white-knuckle ride in the back of a Toyota truck. From there Luke, Niels, our newly acquired translator Alberto, and I prepared ourselves for the next part of our work: field surveys. Essentially, we designated this past week as our time to head back into the field, this time to administer a set of surveys that explored the use of electricity (for both the home and business), and, if electricity wasn't present, the expectations for the future use of electricity if installed. We identified a small village along the Rio Tabaconas, Tamborapa Pueblo, where we felt would be able to get responses that were relatively representative of similar villages in the area. Tamborapa Pueblo is a town with about 200 households that is electrified by means of a micro-hydro system that was installed in 1999. What made this town even more appealing was the fact that nearby there were an abundance of unelectrified households against which we could perform our contrasting survey.


Tamborapa Pueblo sits in the basin of the Rio Tabaconas river valley. It is a small village with muddy roads, simple structures, and a little restaurant called Anderson's, where we ate every meal everyday. There we stayed in a simple hospedaje owned by the daughter of an elderly couple that had been living in the village for about sixty years. The four of us split up the city into blocks, and set out to interview every-other household about their electricity use.

I could go on and on about the magnitude of the experience, as never before did I ever picture myself sitting among rural Peruvians in their simple homes talking about their use of electricity. Oftentimes we only spoke of the handful of light bulbs that hung from the ceiling that allowed the occupants to work into the evening or for their children to study without needing to light a kerosene lamp. For me, not hailing from a development background, it was a giant step beyond my comfort zone. Entering another's home was difficult enough; however, transcending the social, economic, and language barriers as well was, for me, a very challenging, but equally fulfilling experience.

Top Five Experiences in Tamborapa Pueblo:
1.) Playing Frisbee with my teammates and a few kids from the town
2.) Teaching a large group of kids English words in the streets of the town.
3.) Interviewing a school teacher about his use of electricity. In exchange for this interview I provided an English lesson about the correct use of some of the most difficult aspects of our obtuse language. All of this while about 20 kids looked on laughing at the goofy gringo sitting around eating ice cream speaking (to them) a funny language.
4.) Sitting with farmers in their unelectrified homes and talking about what having an electricity would mean to them.
5.) Eating at Anderson's everyday, hosted by Anita and her young son: Anderson.
6.) A bonus - Having a coffee tasting session in which Luke took us through every aspect of of the coffee-cupping process: seperating the beans, roasting the beans, grinding the beans, brewing the beans, tasting it, and finally drinking the coffee. A caffeine addicts dream.


After leaving Niels in Jaen and spending about 28 hours traveling planes, trains, and automobiles-style from Tamborapa Pueblo back down the coast, we made it back to Lima. While in the big town we met with another set of contacts. We also resumed our culinary tour, visiting a couple of places that we enjoyed most during our first stay in the city. Add in an art show hosted by the Embassy, some cosmic bowling, and a significant amount of shopping, and that pretty much sums up our final few days in the Peruvian capital.

So I suppose I should say goodbye to Peru and South America. But I won't. I will definitely miss it and will probably write some sort of South American epilogue when I get back to Berkeley. However, I suppose it will also be a prologue, as I will be preparing to leave for Singapore immediately after I return to the States. Oh, and I will start sending out some of the 600+ pictures I took while down here.

Alright...I guess that is it. I will see many of you back in Berkeley, and will talk to the rest of you as soon as I can. Chao!

What is up with these "Death Roads" anyway?

Mom...the following two paragraphs are for you. In it I am going to describe our work, how we are doing, and what we have been up to. Then I am going to move on to a story. You may want to stop reading there. Just know that I am safe, nothing happened, and that all my experiences are just creating interesting stories for me to tell my grandchildren when I am old.

So our work...things are going well. In addition to befriending the staff of the Grand Hotel St. Ig, we also spent our days meeting with both coffee cooperatives and coffee farmers in the region. For me, meeting the people behind, and learning about the processes involved in the production of coffee has been a tremendously educational and fulfilling experience. Such an opportunity gives significantly more meaning to the ultimate product, which is the large coffee I order daily from Cafe Strada in Berkeley. But seriously, everyone we have met thus far has been extremely welcoming and has provided us with a significant amount of information regarding their use (whether productive or not) of electricity in their lives. As I mentioned earlier, during this part of the research we are looking at ways electricity may be used in the production of coffee here in northern Peru.


The team is doing great. We just came off of a nice relaxing weekend. Luke and I went to th coastal town of Chiclayo, while Niels stayed in Jaen. While the weekend was meant to be productive (Luke and I with our remittance work and Niels with his survey), we all ended up just relaxing and preparing for another long week of traveling the backroads of Peru talking to coffee farmers and trying not to scare people with my extremely unkempt beard.


Alright...so a story. In our work we have essentially identified a few "profiles" of villages that we would like to visit. These profiles are defined by the availability of electricity and the relative intra-village cooperation that is happening among farmers within their respective villages. While some villages are easy to access (like my favorite, Yandiluza), others are, well, not quite off a Peruvian expressway. Enter Cesara. Lying four hours away from our comfy digs in St. Ig lies the sprawling metropolis of Cesara, population about 1,000...chickens.

The team woke up to the sound of rain, and snoring, before dawn Thursday morning. By six we were on the road and on the way to Cesara to visit what we believed to be the electrified and highly cooperative village of Cesara. We packed into Antonio´s truck and headed into the mountains not knowing what to expect.

The first couple hours, while bumpy, were easy. Then came the road. One lane wide and creeping along the side of a Peruvian mountain, rested the rain slickened road we were to take to our destination. Only as we continued along the road were we able to truly see what we had in front of us, as the dense fog and rain limited the extent of our visability. Slowly, but surely, from the fog appeared steep cliffs and the reminants of previous landslides. These, and the absolute look of terror on my face were all there really was to keep us entertained (that and the thought of what the hell I was going to tell my parents if something happened). Now, as an intermission in the story let me just say that the view from this road was unreal. Just the pictures alone were worth the scare.

Back to the road. As we approached the village the dirt turned to clay, which may as well had been ice judging from the way the Toyota fish-tailed up the mountainside. Now, as the most paranoid member of the team, it was at this point I was ready to walk. But Antonio assured us we would be fine, and sure enough we made it to the village.


That was up...now down. Needless to say, I wasn´t quite holding it together very well for the trip down. I, greedily, convinced the others, and ultimately Antonio, that maybe it would be best if Luke, Niels, and I stood in the back of the truck, you know, to add weight to the bed. For me, it was also a way to get out of that death trap and into a position where at least I would have a chance to jump for safety if, in fact, the truck did start to head off the mountain into the abyss below. Now, I realize the physics supporting my escape plan aren´t exactly in my favor; however, it did give me at least some feeling of control. So there we were, getting soaked by the pouring rain, all in a crouched position waiting to jump from the bed of the truck in case of disaster. Antonio must have thought were were idiots.

But we made it! Sort of. While nothing happened on the mountainside, we didn´t quite make it back to Jaen in one piece. The Toyota, bless her soul, conked out about 28 kilometers from Jaen. This was not at all what we wanted while in the middle of our tenth hour on the road that day. So there we were, on the side of a Peruvian road, bags in hand and looking for a ride into town. Finally a shared taxi came along, into which the four of us piled, joining the five people already squeezed into the car. From there we cruised towards town while listening to spanish remakes of popular American love songs. "Love Hurts" and "Lady in Red" have never truly been appreciated until they have been enjoyed with eight other people packed into a Toyota Corolla Wagon.

Whew.

Travels with Charley...I mean Luke

In 1960 John Steinbeck took a trip across the United States with his pet poodle Charley. I suppose Charley, in some ways, was not only taken for companionship, but also as a living and breathing sort of "ice breaker" for all of the people Steinbeck was bound to meet during his journey. Much like that great American author, I too am traveling with a living and breathing ice breaker...his name is Lucas Dunnington. I could go on and on about all of the things Luke and his Spanish has allowed us to achieve down here, but I will just give one quick story that sums it up:

We spent three days earlier this week in and around the small town of San Ignacio in (waaaayyyy) northern Peru. San Ignacio, or "St. Ig" as I will now refer to it, is a clean, peaceful town near the Ecuadorian border. Notable things about St. Ig are its abundance of coffee cooperatives, its inordinate number of remarkably beautiful women, and the Grand Hotel San Ignacio, which is a mammoth structure that just opened and was pretty much just hosting us. Being one of just a few guests has its advantages, not the least of which being an over-abundance of quality service from the staff. That is where our story begins.

We ate dinner at the hotel both nights in town. For both meals we were treated with service from an tremendously eager waiter named Wilson. Wilson, at age 21, brought with him a very formal, yet extremely friendly attitude to the job. The first evening at Chez St. Ig, our food options were limited, mainly due to the relatively isolated nature of the town. In hopes of at least a good drink we asked for some pisco sours (of course). But, alas, they did not even have the ingredients for that ubiquitous Peruvian cocktail. Sensing our disappointment, Wilson promised better from the kitchen the next evening.


Fast forward about twenty-four hours. We were back in the restaurant, eager for our meal and promised pisco sours. But to our dismay, the kitchen was unable to procure pisco for our drinks. Not to be left dry for another night, Luke took the initiative to head up the hill into town to buy the necessary bottle of pisco. Luke´s initiative and smooth talking not only allowed us to access to our favorite drinks, but also provided access to the kitchen in order to get a lesson from the kitchen and wait staff about how to make the famous Peruvian drink. We spent a good amount of time back in the kitchen making, and even better, drinking those pisco sours with our waiters and cooks. Afterwards we were treated to a good dinner and company from more members of the hotel staff. Essentially, as we were pretty much the only guests, there wasn´t much more for the staff to do than drink pisco sours with us. Thanks Luke.

Teen flicks, Coffee, and a Dip in the Pool

There is a little known phenomenon in South America regarding the need to watch teen flicks portraying stereotypical, yet fictionalized high school life in America. Apparently this most often occurs on long bus rides..or so I was led to believe on my trip from Lima to Jaen. Who knew there was such a desire to watch such films at "The Hot Girl" and "John Tucker Must Die" on overnight bus rides through Peru?

So...here we are in Jaen, the not-so-small-but-not-entirely-big town I find myself in here in this Andean country. The town is nice; typical by South American standards consisting of a plaza, stray dogs, and enough motorcycles (or such things) to overwhelm even a Sturgis veteran. Our home is the Hotel Prim's, a nice establishment equipped with sparten rooms, a nice restaurant, and a phallic shaped swimming pool. I wish the latter was a joke (or an unfortunate accident) but I doubt either is the case. I kid you not, it is unmistakable...very unmistakable. Sorry for being so crass, Mom.

Ok, right now we just finished watching the Miss Universe contest (go Japan!). Luke is reading and watching CSI, and Niels is probably conquering Lichtenstein on his midieval computer simulation game. As I sit on the floor of our room and survey my surroundings I am overwhelmed with visions of what it must have looked like to live in 1973. Burnt orange carpet, brown velvet-ish bedspreads patterned with some sort of flowery/yucca design, and a painting of a series of waterfalls that illuminates (or at least it did at one time) when plugged into the wall. Heaven. I am going to bottle this place up and bring it back to Berkeley with me.

Here in Jaen we have been relatively busy. In addition to continuing to refine our research, we have met with a couple of coffee cooperatives to talk about there operations and their use of energy in various aspects of the production process. Personally, these discussions have been extremely interesting. Prior to arriving in Peru my knowledge of coffee was limited to ordering a large cup each morning as I dragged my exhausted ass into work or class. As long as it was hot and strong I was good to go. But now I am seeing it from its inception; from growth through distribution. Interestingly, some of the coffee that you may be drinking right now as you read this blog instead of working may have come through some of the cooperatives we are meeting with here in Jaen. Even more exciting, tomorrow we are heading into the fields to get a better look at the actual operations that are in place. We will head north through Chirinos and then on to San Ignacio where we will meet with coffee farmers and more cooperatives.


Alright, I am not done with the swimming pool. The fun doesn't stop with its very masculine design. A little background: we have hired a driver in order to traverse the coffee growing regions of northern Peru. He will take us from town to town and probably act somewhat as a guide. Oh, and hopefully he will vouch for us if we are mistaken for miners...more on that some other time. So, our driver, Antonio, swung by Hotel Prim's today to introduce himself and discuss the details of our expedition. Luke, Niels, and I were sitting outside by the pool discussing our afternoon plans when he arrived. The table at which we were sitting was adjacent to the "beans" portion of the previously described pool. Since Luke is our native Latino (or so he speaks like it), Antonio walked towards him first to kick off the introductions. As he rounded the table something tragic happened, causing Antonio to (ungracefully) slip on a "bean" and fall into the pool. Fast acting Luke, still clutching Antonio's hand from the introductory shake, was able to quickly pull our driver from the pool, and thereby saving his cell phone keeping the upper portion of his clothing relatively dry. Thus, for the next fifteen or so minutes our driver, the man we will be trusting to take us through rural Peru and whom I still haven't officially met, stood sopping wet talking to Luke about our plans for the next few weeks. Hell, after a stunt like that, I will trust Antonio to take me to the end of the world...which may be where we are going.

Stay tuned!

Well...We Made It to Cajamarca

Sort of. We made it to the Cajamarca booth at a tourism exposition today. As you can see by the photos we were able to do the entire country of Peru in about forty-five minutes, even Cajamarca, which is where we will be completing our research. The highlight for me was being summoned to eat some sort of powdery substance fed to me by an Andean man. Luckily for me I was able to address the entire convention over the PA system while doing so. It sure does pay to be tall and blond in South America!


Oh, and yes, that is a real monkey hanging out with Luke. It is amazing that it knows how to wave.

Peruvian Cuisine...Oh the Humanity!

I just got back from the supermarket. Plaza Vea. There we bought four bottles of wine, some fruit, a bit of bread, a liter and a half of Inca Cola, five clipboards, and a couple of notebooks. Essentials. Tonight is our last night in Lima. Tomorrow we take an overnight bus about seventeen hours north to the region of Cajamarca, specifically the town of Jaen. Look it up on a map; it's small. So, you may be asking, what have I been up to over the past week...from outriding death on a mountain bike until now? Well, I have eaten well. Seriously.

I arrived into Lima on Monday morning where I was picked up by Carlos, our favorite Limean taxi driver. Essentially (as should not be suprising to many of you who know my travel companion Luke Dunnington), we have a personal cab company, owned by Carlos, whom we call upon for everything. Carlos is a spectacular friend to have in Lima. He gets us where we need to go, on time, and in comfort. Being picked up by Carlos was a great way to arrive in in this Peruvian port city.
Upon arrival, Carlos drove me to the workshop of Gaston Acurio. Gaston, for those of you who, like me, does not consider themselves a "foodie", is the face of Peruvian cuisine. It is his (and his organization's) mission to introduce the world to the taste and diversity of Peruvian food. Thanks to one of our Berkeley classmates, Luke, Kurt Huffman, Javier Linares, and myself were able to sit down with Gaston's right-hand man for three hours and talk about food, the organization's mission, and, most importantly, where we should spend every meal for the entire week. Armed with a list of Lima's best restaurants and an appetite, we set off for a week-long culinary tour of Peru's capital city.

I am not going to detail the entire week...that's a lot of meals. Let's just say I have been spoiled. I have never in my life had such incredible food at such remarkable restaurants. In the end we hit a half-dozen of the most highly respected restaurants in town. I won't describe every one of them; however, there are some highlights of the week that must be discussed.

1.) La Mar - This is Gaston's take on the traditional cevecheria. Ceviche, which many of you may not be familiar with is traditionally a dish of fresh (read: raw) fish, lime juice, and some onions, choclo, or other raw vegetables. There are a million different variations on ceviche, but I will just give you the basics. La Mar is Gaston's big international push right now. Those of us lucky enough to live in the Bay Area will be treated to this spectacular restaurant in the near future. While at La Mar Kurt and Luke put the waiters through their paces, asking about each dish, the ingredients, and how it was prepared. Concurrently we sucked down a few pisco sours and had a general great time.


2.) Chez Wong - Picture prohibition. Perhaps you want to dance, maybe enjoy some jazz piano, and drink a whiskey. Where would you go? A speakeasy. A soft knock at an unmarked door, the right password, and voila...booze. Fast forward about seventy years. Let's say you want some of the best ceviche in Peru. You head to an unmarked door in a non-descript working-class neighborhood in Lima. Once there, you motion to the guy at the door to allow you access to a simply decorated room with a few tables, a refrigerator, a large gas burner, and an aging Asian man cutting up fish. This is Javier Wong's restaurant. A menu-less establishment that has been named one of the top restaurants in Lima. This was by far my favorite restaurant. Basically, eating at Chez Wong's was like sitting in a person's kitchen...however, this person is a renowned Peruvian chef. While the clandestine aspect of the restaurant was engaging, it was the fresh ceviche that really made the experience.


3.) Pisco Sours - By far the most dangerous drinks ever created. Thus, why would we NOT make up a rating system for them? From strength and consistency, to foam and deadliness, we spent a lot of time ranking the best pisco sours from across Lima. Ask us about which are the don't miss spots...it's a bit hazy, but we may remember where they are.

Ok, now, I know what some of you are thinking: aren't you supposed to be working down in Peru? Well, amazingly, we did that as well. In between phenomenal meals, we used this week to meet with different development organizations, buy maps, and prepare our general research plan. Luke, Niels, and myself are now ready to spend the next few weeks in one of Peru's most northern provinces looking at sustainable financing and productive use of solar power and micro-hydro systems. We will be spending a significant amount of time in communities that rely on these alternative sources for all of their energy needs. Amazingly, I actually think we are going to do some good work once we get up to our destination.

So now it is time to enjoy my last night in our spacious apartment in Lima. For the next two weeks I expect simple and, well, challenging accomodations. And in terms of food: cheese, bread, and probably a load of lomo saltado. I will try and update from "out there" but no guarantees. Buen Provecho!

I Love Gravity. It´s Great.

Apparently I survived the "World´s Most Dangerous Road" (WMDR), or so says the shirt that I was given at the end of a sixty-six kilometer bike ride that I took today. I should preface this story by noting that since I am currently writing this entry then I obviously made it through the experience unscathed. Thus, Mom, if you are reading this, I AM OK. Alright, now that we have that out of the way, the story:

Yesterday I was bored. I returned to La Paz from the salt flats a day or two before I had initially planned, so I had some extra time on my hands. While walking the streets taking dozens more pictures, I decided that I wanted to spend my final day in Bolivia, Sunday, doing something active and fun. So I popped my head into Gravity Assisted Mounting Biking, which is the preeiminent company that takes riders along the WMDR, which is a trip from La Paz to Coroico along a road that, well, to say the least, is a bit hairy.

At about twenty or so feet wide, about thirty kilometers of the road hugs the Bolivian mountainside. The exposed side of the road, at times, is a sheer cliff with a drop off of up to 1,000 meters...or about 3,300 feet for those of you who are counting. Essentially, if you fall you aren´t going to bounce for awhile. But not to fear. To be honest, I didn´t find it do be too scary. Have there been casulties? Well, judging by the number of crosses along the roadside, yes. Heck, one of our group members had to have stitches after a nasty fall. However, our guides and gear were great...and I rode at about 3 mph. Weirdly, our main guide, Travis, was from Colorado. He spends half the year running a bike company in Bolivia, and the other half as the head liftie at Telluride. Additionally, he is a fellow "One Year Alum" of my first college, Western State College of Colorado. This, coupled with the Berkeley PhD student I randomly met on a La Paz street yesterday reminded me how small the world really is.


So, the exciting part of the ride wasn´t actually taming the road, but rather the tremendous beauty of the ride and the group of people I shared it with. Over sixty-six kilometers, we dropped nearly 12,000 feet in altitude, from 15,400 to 3,600 feet. Such a change in altitude alowed us to travel from the towering Andes, through the cloud forest, and into the more tropical parts of Bolivia. That, my friends, is defnintely gravity assisted bike riding. As you can see from the pictures, dressing in layers was key. I am glad I didn´t show that last picture...you know, the naked one. Kidding. Gross.

My group consisted of some Brits, Aussies, Yankees, and a lone Kiwi, Olivia. Olivia was great to talk to because not only did she spend three days in the salt flats with five Israelis trying to understand Hebrew as well, but she also spent two months volunteering (randomly) in the same area in Peru, Cajamarca, where our UNIDO team will be working in over the next few weeks.


Sadly, this is my last entry from Bolivia, as I leave in about twelve hours for Peru. There I will meet up with Luke Dunnington and the infamous Kurt Huffman, both fellow Haasies. For those of you who do not know these people let me just give a brief background. Hell, they don´t need a background. Let me just say that both of them have been in Peru for a week, which about as much time needed for them to single-handedly transform the country. I may be returning to a Peru completely different than the one I left just one week ago.

I will miss Bolivia. While it is tremendously chaotic and at times frustrating, it is also unbelievably beautiful and flavorful. It was the country that I wanted to visit most in South America and I am glad that I had the opportunity to do so. More so than any other country I have visited, the juxtaposition between the new and old is readily apparent. This was illustrated best yesterday while I wandered a traditional market along the steep streets of La Paz. Among the hundreds of indigenous Bolivians selling fruits, vegetables, meats, and other staples, was one woman, brightly dressed in traditional clothing, chatting on a cell phone. That is really demonstrative of the country as a whole.


Alright, I am done. The mid-1980´s American love songs on here at the internet cafe are starting to get to me. Oh, who am I kidding, I love Bruce Hornsby. On to Peru!

Smuggling Llamas to the States

They´re cute...they really are. And I think one would make a great addition to my life in Berkeley. So, if anyone knows of a good way to smuggle a llama back stateside, let me know.

So why do I bring this up? Well, I just spent the last five days in the middle of nowhere...literally...where all that existed were llamas and late model Toyota Land Cruisers. During those five days I had a lot of time to think about how I was going to describe a place that is arguably the most beautiful location I have ever been. Additionally, I tried to figure out how to describe my travel companions, whom I was hardly able to converse with. Well, the only thing I came up with during those few days was the llama thing. Go figure. Anyhow, I am going to try to do my best to describe Bolivia, Salar de Uyuni, the end of the earth, and the transcendent powers of cards and wine in the next few paragraphs. Here goes...

I left La Paz Monday night for bone-rattling trip to the distant village of Uyuni. Uyuni is known for pretty much one thing: salt. It is the jumping off point for tours of the Salar de Uyuni, which is an expansive (and by expansive I mean "can´t see the other side" expansive) salt flat. The salt flat is fascinating for a couple of reasons. First, at times when you are driving you can only see two things: the blindingly white ground and the vividly blue sky. That´s it. Very surreal. Second: in such a Dali-esque landscape, one has the ability to create photos that take advantage of the lack of depth perception. For example, we took photos that made us look like we were emerging from a bottle, falling off of a can of Pringles, or kissing a giant (or lilliputian person, depending on the way you think). Now, I don´t have any of those photos because they are on my friend Maya´s camera, but here is an example of what I mean.


Now, who were my partners in crime on this adventure? That would be my Bolivian guide, his wife the cook, and five post-army Israelis. Of those five Israelis, only one, Maya, actually spoke fluent English. Of all the trips I have taken, and of all the people I have met, this was probably one of the more random groups I have ever been paired with. It was difficult, and at times frustrating. However, as I will detail later, I wouldn´t have had it any other way.

So here is the set-up: three days crossing through the otherworldly terrain of southwestern Bolivia in a psychotically-driven Land Cruiser that was oftentimes only started by popping the clutch, while listening to five chain-smoking Israelis debate politics, evolution, theology, morality, and American pop culture (all in Hebrew, remember), to the ambient sound of Israeli music being blasted through small, treblely-gifted speakers. All the while, the remarkably beautiful landscape passed by the window of our vehicle. This is my life.

One more things should be noted. The altitude of this region is about 12,000 to 16,000 feet. While those of us from Colorado take pride in the fact that we live at a mile high and play even higher, our lives don´t even compare to this.

The terrian was both diverse and mesmorizing. From the previously described salt flats, to the vividly colored lagoons, the trek was a constant moving picture of beauty. Along the way we were treated to awe-inspiring views of the Andes, the odd-beauty of alpine deserts, the occasional wild-llama, steaming natural springs, and sub-freezing temperatures. At the furthest point of the trip, we found ourselves at the very corner of Bolivia; the point where it touches both Chile and Argentina. Although the temperature was brutally cold, the scenery was unbelievable. While the entire trip was completed far from civilization, it was at that moment that I really felt like I was at the end of the earth. I took nearly 300 photos with my new camera, which I feel really capture the dynamic and ever-changing landscape of the region. I can´t wait to share them with each of you.

So how did I communicate with my compatriots. Well, Spanish and broken English were helpful, as were Maya´s translations. However, the most productive way was through wine and the card game, "Shithead". Most of you know that my self-diagnosed ADD pretty much precludes me from participating in card games, but for some reason I love Shithead. For those of you who don´t know if it, it is essentially the common game that travelers worldwide know and love. I learned it in Asia, played it in Europe, and perfected it in South America. For some reason, it is almost a universal language of its own.

So, after three days tightly packed in our Toyota, and two nights sharing laughs over cards, it was time to leave my new found friends. As we came to the drop-off spot, the point where I was to depart my group to join another returning to Uyuni, one final song came over the speakers. Of the literally thousands of Hebrew songs on the iPod, that song, a Counting Crows Song, for some reason came on. For those of you who know me well, you know that A) the Counting Crows are my favorite band, especially while traveling (I have probably listened to August and Everything After hundreds of times while traveling), B) I am a huge believer in both serendipìty and "the vibe", so I think you can see the symbolism here. While at many times I questioned why I had been paired with this group on such a long and gruling trip, I grew to greatly enjoy their company and companionship, and I missed them greatly when we finally parted ways.

So that´s it. Sure, I could tell many more stories, from being reintroduced to the beauty of an Andean market, to the desire of every barber in La Paz to shave my beard, but I will save those for later.

I hope everyone is doing well. Until next time! Sababa!




P.S. - In a hazy, most likely sleep-deprived, bumpy road-induced stupor, I came up with a comedy show that I would like to introduce to South America. The name of the game: "Not in South America!" Essentially, the host shows various instances where non-South Americans try and navigate the cultural and logistical aspects of the continent. At the end of each segment, the studio audience, which is made up of indigenous people from the Andes, samba dancers from Brazil, the social elite of Argentina, and Bolivian President Evo Morales, exchange laughs, high fives, and yell out "Not in South America!" For example, "Oh, so you want a bus that leaves on time and doesn´t break down? Not in South America!" Or, perhaps, "You don´t want to be hassled on the streets by sock-peddling street vendors? Not in South America!" I think you get the idea.

Slightly Dizzy Right Now...

I must admit, I am a little lightheaded right now. I am not sure if it is a result of the altitude of La Paz (nearly 12,000 feet), or my whirlwind finals week that ended with a full twenty-four hours of travel to Bolivia, but to say I am a bit dizzy would be an understatement. Regardless, I am here. And, of course, I love it.

I must admit, I missed South America. I woke up this morning to the cacophony of hundreds of honking horns and hawkers yelling from doors of buses, and the smell of women cooking meals on the street below my quaint hotel room. When I opened the curtains of my room I was greeted with the South America I remember: dilapidated buildings and pure chaos. Now, I don´t mean that negatively at all. It was actually almost comforting and brought back memories from my time in the region a few years back.

La Paz, at least the little I have seen of it, is beautiful. I arrived last night around midnight. I found a cab and headed into the city. My first view of La Paz came from the top El Alto, which is the ridgeline above the city. As we entered the valley, the cab drive pulled to the side of the road to let me have a look at the city lights as the spread before me along the sides of the valley and as far as I could see below. It was a tremendous way to be introduced to La Paz. In the daylight I was greeted with a city settled in a valley of steep inclines consisting of periously perched buildings. In the distance, at the end of the valley, is Mt. Illamani, which towers over this already altitude-blessed city. It really makes for a spectacular setting.

Unfortunately my time here is shortlived. I will be leaving on an overnight bus this evening to Uyuni. There I will find a guide to take me into the salt flats for three or four days. From there I will return to La Paz prior to heading to Peru for our UNIDO research project.

Alright, this update has been long enough...I am going to go get myself into trouble so I can have some good stories to share next time I post an update. That and some oxygen.

Day One: Me at my Desk in Berkeley

I am going to rack up a few frequent flyer miles this summer. For the next 14.5 weeks I will be spending time in Bolivia, Peru, Singapore, and other random nations. So, for those of you whom I haven't talked to in awhile, and those of you who I feel like I have seen every waking hour for the past few months, welcome to the first installment of my "Summer of Yes" blog. This blog will be used to update my friends and family of my whereabouts as I travel through and work in South America and Southeast Asia this summer. If feel that it is easier to maintain this blog than call each of you at four in the morning while I am bored at work. Additionally, each of you can decide when you want to take an hour out of your day to read my random, occasionally incoherent travel ramblings.

So the blog...I would like to think of this as analogous to the taste test that one can get at the supermarket on Saturday mornings. The store is willing to give you a chunk of fried chicken on a toothpick in hopes that you will be interested in purchasing a box of that frozen crap to take home. In a sense, I am hoping that this "chicken" of a blog will at least be more appealing to each of you than the alternative, which is real, live, actual work. We'll see if it works. So join me on my adventure through rural South America and cosmopolitan Singapore. And...if you are really lucky, I may allow you to help me pick out my business casual clothing for work!

Five Things I Hope Happen:
1.) Capture some amazing photos of things...whatever those things may be
2.) Have some fabulous "Kurt Huffman Productions"-ready suits made in Singapore
3.) Tap into the Singapore expat community and meet interesting travel buddies
4.) Learn a little bit about working internationally for a multinational company in a multicultural city with nationals from many countries...does that make sense?
5.) Complete my long awaited research project on the similarities and differences between office parks, strip malls, and cubicles between the United States and Asia.

Five Things I Hope Don't Happen
1.) Get caned in Singapore
2.) Come down with CheGuevaraSimonBolivar'sRevenge in Bolivia...also known as food poisoning
3.) Get caned in Singapore
4.) Get too many paper cuts from administering thousands of surveys in Peru.
5.) Forget to return to Berkeley for my second year...and get caned in Singapore.

In a few hours I will head to SFO for my flight to South America. Along the way I will stop in San Salvador, Lima, and finally into La Paz, Bolivia, tomorrow night. From there I will have an overnight bus ride to Uyuni in order to spend a few days at the salt flats. Alright. Everybody in and buckled up? Let's go!