30 de diciembre
Mi mochila es terriblemente, innecesariamente grande. Pesa setenta kilos y yo de buenas peso sesenta y cinco. Son los días más calientes en Jujuy, me dijo el de la oficina de turismo de la terminal. Le pregunté qué empresas cruzan la coordillera y me dijo de acá solo andesmar. Se tendría que haber bajado en salta señorita. De salta salen más. Para mañana nada. Hasta el 4 de enero nada señorita.
En la parada de micros y cargando con mi carga y con mi mugre, pregunté si alguien iba al centro a la plaza de los inmigrantes, si sabían qué micro. Después de lo que me pasó aquella vez en santa teresita ni loca me tomaba un remis. Un chico me dijo yo voy para ahísito nomás. Nos subimos al micro y charlamos sobre el calor y sobre viajar a la deriva. Le pregunté dónde me recomendaba pasar el año nuevo ya que no iba a poder cruzar a chile. Me dijo que en maimará hay un carnaval increíble a donde van todos los jujeños a purgarse para dejar atrás el año. O sea a escabiar hasta borrarse la memoria. Me gustó el plan. En ese momento me urgía limpiarme, aunque en un sentido más literal que figurativo.
Llegué al hostel que tenía reservado, sólo había una pieza ocupada y no era la mía, así que me di un baño largo y escuchando música y después estuve en bombacha un rato tirada en la cama de abajo de la cucheta. A la tardecita salí en busca de una farmacia para comprar finalmente platsul para la quemadura y unas gasas. Después compré una cerveza y me fui al parque que me había recomendado el jujeño del micro. Quedaba cerca. Tenía un río bastante decepcionante pero me senté a la orilla a fumar un porro y pensar qué iba a hacer al otro día. Cuando empecé a volver me pasó algo extraño. Había un puentecito en el parque solo a modo de decoración porque se levantaba apenas unos centímetros del suelo. Como los puentecitos del jardín japonés. Había una chica parada en uno de los extremos. Una chica o una mujer, imposible saber. Era discapacitada al parecer o bien estaba en un trance. Me empezó a llamar con ruidos de la boca y agitando las manos. Le pregunté si quería que la ayude. Me agarró de los hombros. Bastante fuerte. Intuí que la tenía que cruzar hasta el otro lado del puente. Hicimos unos pasos, ella atrás mío y agarrada de mis hombros como en un trencito. Pero en mitad del puente no avanzó más y empezó a gritar. Miré a mi alrededor. Nadie con quien hacer contacto visual. Por alguna razón terminé arrastrando del brazo a la chica que me miraba con una cara de terror absurda. Cuando terminamos de cruzarlo corrió aleteando torpemente con sus brazos y la perdí de vista.
A la noche bajé al patio del hostel a fumar y me di cuenta que había un baldío pegado sin más que un alambre que lo divida. Los yuyos crecidos. Me senté en un tronco y miré para la única ventana de la que venía luz. Es como una escena de una película con audio pero sin subtítulos. Las dos alemanas que ocupan la otra pieza ocupada del hostel. Lo raro de las alemanas, pienso, porque el porro me pone analítica antropóloga, lo raro de las alemanas es que pueden permanecer horas en un mismo sitio sin pararse ni rascarse ni recostarse, durante toda una conversación. Sólo sombras y tonos de voces para interpretar.
No aguanté y las vine a ver de cerca. Saqué mi taper de empanadas de la heladera y las puse en un plato para calentarlas en el microondas. Les ofrecí y dijeron que no. Como con el porro que dijeron que no. Puchos ni les ofrecí. Tomaban vino blanco con limón y hielo. No me ofrecieron. Por el tono, supe que su conversación era un bodrio. Prefiero la conversación de los nietos de la viejita con la que viajé en el micro, que la subieron y la sentaron y la abrigaron y cuando ella les quiso dar plata, ellos le dijeron que no que guarde eso abuela que no necesitamos nada usted viaje bien y le pide al néstor que nos llame cuando llegue a la casa. El tucumano es un gran tono.
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EMBARRASSING STORIES FROM MY TRAVELSLAST UPDATED JUNE 22, 2020
ARGENTINA, CANADA, INDONESIA, MYANMAR (BURMA), PERSONAL MUSINGS, TRAVEL, TRAVEL DESTINATIONS, TRAVEL NARRATIVE
This weekend I played tourist in my hometown and took the Metro to the Olympic Stadium for First Fridays, a massive food truck gathering on the first Friday of each summer month. We arrived early, so we opted to hit the cafe inside the stadium before the doors opened. When I leaned back against the counter, I felt a searing pain on my right butt cheek. Wondering if I was simply conducting an alarming amount of static electricity, I shot forward and swatted behind me.
A huge yellow jacket fell to the floor, stunned. He or she must have been sitting on my ass for who knows how long. My heart raced, my leg felt numb, and my tongue started to swell. I’ve never reacted with anaphylaxis from a bee or wasp sting before, but I’ll be following up for a potential allergy because it was a very different body response.
And then I had to pleasure of telling friends that I was stung in the butt by a wasp.
Sharing Embarrassing Travel Stories
The reaction from said friends was, “Jodi WHY does this always happen to you?” Which is a really valid question given the wildlife mishaps during my travels.
First, the problem of all the birds that have crapped on my head during my years of travel (14 birds and 1 bat, to be specific). Then, the iguana that mauled my leg in Belize — more on this soon, I promise — when he thought I was a tree and tried to climb me to eat my shirt.
There is the spider that ate other spiders in my room in New Zealand, not to mention the possum that attacked me at three in the morning in the same country, launching himself at me like a grenade while I screeched, half-asleep.
But none of these mishaps qualify for embarrassing travel stories. I have others that do. And since the blog veered toward the solemn with my Vipassana piece and the post on mechanics of jet lag, let’s get back to taking things a little less seriously shall we?
You’re welcome.
Banging a Bus in Argentina
I visited Argentina for the first time the year before I started working as a lawyer in New York City. Up until that point, my Spanish vocabulary consisted of very basic words I learned and strung together while visiting Spain. It was in Barcelona, in between tapas and wine, that I learned some phrases that kept me afloat in more rural areas.
Where is the bathroom?
How are you?
I am from Canada.
My name is Jodi.
Where can I take the bus?
It was the latter sentence that got me into trouble in Argentina. Coming off a long bus ride, I couldn’t find my connecting bus. I approached two men wearing the Andesmar uniform, thinking they might know.
“Permiso donde puedo coger el bus?” I asked timidly. I thought what I was asking was, “where can I take the bus?”
I was met with raucous laughter.
“Donde quieres, chica!” one of them said.
Confusion reigned until I remembered what my friends in Uruguay told me: coger was slang for “to fuck.”
So I basically asked where could fuck the bus, which led to the mirthful, mocking response of “wherever you’d like, lady.”
Face flushed with shame, I blurted out, “lo siento, estoy tanto embarazada!”
The gentlemen doubled over with laughter once again. One looked me up and down slowly and drawled, “I think not” (“pienso que no”).
And that was how I learned that in Spanish, embarazada is the word for “pregnant,” not for embarrassed. In case you were wondering, embarrassed is avergonzado or desconcertado.
For those learning Spanish, there are several other words that resemble English words but aren’t. A few:
Librería is a book store, not a library. A library is a biblioteca.
Decepción means to be disappointed, not deceived. A deception is an engaño.
And one of my favourites: carpeta is a file folder — a carpet is the awesome alfombra. Carpet never sounded so satisfying.
As for Argentina, I was appalled to manage not one but two disastrous language mistakes. To assuage my shame, I wrote a group email back to friends and family at home.
“I did the impossible,” it read. “I not only asked to have sex with a bus, but insisted that I was pregnant while doing so.”
Ants in my Pants at Angkor
The Great Butt Sting of 2016 reminded me of another ‘when nature attacks’ story from my time at Angkor Wat, a far more embarrassing turn of events. I was on a date with a very cute boy from Switzerland, who I had met in a different country. We stayed in touch in the interim and coordinated a trip to Angkor at the same time. His friends were working at an NGO in town. We spent our days climbing hidden treehouses and roaming the temples in awe, and the evenings eating and listening to stories from people who knew the city better than we did.
During one particularly lovely evening, he suggested that we sit and watch the sunset over Angkor Wat while listening to Michael Galasso’s track Angkor Wat Theme II from the In The Mood for Love soundtrack. This sounded like a great idea. As the sun began to set behind the ruins, we curled up on a stone bench and put on the song.
I even took a photo, since I loved the symmetry:
All seemed to be going well: stunning sunset, a gentleman I enjoyed sitting next to me, crumbling temples from a former kingdom. Except for one thing: I didn’t know it at the time, but I was sitting on a pile of fire ants. I found out pretty quickly.
Stinging pain, followed by more stinging pain. I leapt up with a shriek, and ran around in circles smacking my behind as that “great guy” laughed so hard that tears poured down his face. To make matters worse, there were several monks nearby, also waiting for a quiet sunset. I gave them a sincerely authentic burst of entertainment, and they had a field day laughing along with us.
Flashing a Tribesman in Myanmar
I was in Myanmar in late 2009 for over seven weeks, extended my trip from the initial few. The country was still under military rule, and you were allowed to see what you were allowed to see, and no more. I was encouraged to visit by friends who worked for NGOs in Northern Thailand as well as friends who had visited previously. They urged me to explore and take care to stay at local guesthouses and eat on the street, giving money to the local economy instead of the junta. At the time, it was a controversial decision to visit. I wrote a long “before you go” piece to reflect my thought process.
My travels took me up to the Kachin State Fair in Myitkyina, then back down to Mandalay by boat during a solar eclipse. They took me to Bagan (one of the worst bus rides I’ve ever experienced!) and to Inle Lake, and then south of Yangon to Hpa-An and its crazy caves and limestone cliffs.
It was in Inle Lake that I experienced an embarrassing travel faux pas. Throughout my time in Myanmar, I wore a traditional wraparound skirt called a longyi. It was easy to use, doubled as a towel after the shower, was comfortable, and wasn’t indecent in a very conservative country. To put on the longyi as a woman, you pull all of the fabric to one side, fold it back at the hip while holding it tight against your waist, and then tuck it into the opposite side. Women often sew in a thin band of black cotton at the top of the longyi, where it sits at the waist, “for the sweat”.
During one of many dawn boat trips around Inle Lake, I stepped out of the boat to attend one of the beautiful morning markets. While exiting the tiny boat, my longyi got caught on a protruding nail. In two seconds flat, the longyi untucked from my waist and lay in a pool of fabric at the bottom of the boat. Given that many Burmese women I met wore thick flannel bloomers under their longyis, my thong underwear was likely quite a surprise. And I highly doubt that the entire boat behind me full of Pao-O tribesman had seen a traveler’s pasty white butt before.
I went out and bought a safety pin immediately, but it didn’t stop the Inle boat drivers from giving me a smirk and a thumbs up when they passed me during the duration of my stay. News travels fast in a tiny town, especially when it involves a mistaken strip-down in front of a boat of elderly tribesman.
-Jodi
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Bus bingo - I was only a few numbers away
Usually when you’re travelling on buses in Argentina they provide what they term entertainment.
The company I was travelling with, Andesmar, was no exception.
Entertainment generally means that they show a few movies, sometimes the movies are ok, sometimes pretty bad, sometimes in English with Spanish subtitles, sometimes dubbed in Spanish with Spanish subtitles.
Anyway on this trip they showed a few movies and then the attendant came around and gave out little bingo cards.
He had a mic and a collection of small bingo balls that he’d pull out from a bag and call out without much enthusiasm.
I was a few numbers short. If they were pulled out of the bag then the prize of a bottle of wine was all mine.
Before my numbers were pulled a passenger from downstairs made the call ‘Bingo Andesmar’ and my chance was gone.
The winner’s ticket was checked and verified and we gave her a round of applause.
Next time that prize is mine I thought.
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XIII ENCUENTRO INTERNACIONAL DE ESCRITORES Y POETAS "JUANITA HERRERA SALEME" - TINOGASTA "CAPITAL NACIONAL DE LAS LETRAS".
Del 20 al 24 de Marzo de 2017
XIII ENCUENTRO INTERNACIONAL DE ESCRITORES Y POETAS "JUANITA HERRERA SALEME" - TINOGASTA "CAPITAL NACIONAL DE LAS LETRAS".
Actividades : Recitales Poéticos - Presentación de Libros - Poema Ilustrado - Visitas a escuelas, hogar de ancianos, niños con capacidades diferentes, lugares históricos y turísticos - Café Literario - Peña Cultural - Bailantas, etc.
Cómo llegar a Tinogasta: Desde Buenos Aires, directo, Empresa Gutierrez - de Córdoba, Empresas Robledo, Andesmar, Gutierrez - de La Patagonia, Empresa Robledo, Andesmar - de La Rioja, Empresa Robledo - de San Fernando del Valle de Catamarca, Empresas Gutierrez y Robledo. Combinaciones con Tucumán, Santiago del Estero, etc.
Tinogasta= "Reunión de Pueblos" - Altura Sobre el nivel del mar: 1250 Mts.
-) Todos los participantes en Recitales Poéticos, lo hacen con un verso.
Presentación de Libro: Disponen de 15 minutos, máximo.
Los que presentan canto y danzas: Tres Composiciones.
Otros tipos de actuaciones artísticas: 15 minutos, máximo
- Se cuenta con moderadores.
-) Enviar hasta el 05/03/17 : Un verso para Poemas Ilustrado - Nombre del libro que presentará.
-) Se Ruega Informar quienes vienen con Vehículo.
-) HOTELERÍA:
Hostería Nóvel - Telef. 03837-420009- Single $ 480,00 - Doble $ 680,00 - Triple $ 780.00. con desayuno.Por persona, por día.
Casa Grande - Telef. 03837-421140 - Single $ 950,00 - Doble $ 1350,00 - Triple $ 1500,00, con desayuno. "
Hotel Don Alberto - Telef. 3837693628 - $ 150,00 por persona, por día.
Hotel Nicolás - Telef. 03837- - Single $ 300,00 - Doble $ 500,00 - Triple $ 650,00.
Residencial San Francisco - Telef. 3837475201 - Single $ 250,00 - Doble $ 400,00 - Triple $ 500,00.
Hotel de Turismo - Telef. 3837-15401087 - Single $ 450,00 - Doble $ 590,00 - Triple $ 690,00, con desayuno.
Hotel El Viajante - Telef. 03837-420868 - $ 180,00 por persona, por día. $ 200,00, con desayuno.
Hostal Santé - Telef. 03837-420201 - Single $ 350,00 - Doble $ 550,00 - Triple $ 600,00.
- Hay casas de familia que se alquilan también.
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