Dec 18-23 - When life hands you a Lima

Dec 18 - Huaraz

When I left the Casino, I had a taxi driver stop at an ATM before heading to the airport. Fourteen hours and one red eye later, I arrived in Lima, Peru. It was 7pm and I was able to find an eight hour overnight bus to an area called Huaraz later that evening. Everything still didn't feel real. I was back to Spanish. I hadn't seen a bed in two days and was still giddy from Vegas.

Huaraz, an area of Peru situated north east of the capital. It was an adventure junkies paradise sitting at altitude with the cordillera blanca (white mountain range) intimidatingly looking over its shoulder. I was there to do the Santa Cruz trek - a four day hike rumored to be one of the most popular in the area. It took days to gather information on which companies offered services, what conditions were like, and who to trust in the small town. In the end I decided not to go. It was the wet season and after a day hike in the pouring rain at above 15,000 feet, I decided it wasn't worth pushing right this moment. The town still ended up being one of my favorites so far and one that I plan on returning to in the future.

Dec 23 - When life hands you a Lima

I spent seven days in Huaraz before deciding to make my way as far south as possible to begin looking into Antarctica. With Christmas just around the corner, I was struggling with scheduling and decisions about where to settle for the holiday. After a whirlwind of events, I found myself in Lima for a few days before my scheduled flight down to southern Chile.

I made a few friends in Huaraz. One was called out as a stand out young artist in Austria who invited me to meet her in Lima for a night. We ended up at warehouse parties in dark alleyways and huge clubs two levels below the street surface. It was a fun night out with her local friends and a great way to celebrate new friendship.

I was staying in an area of Lima called Barranco. My first night in, I had a difficult time finding a place to stay and ended up at a rundown hostel and looking for a quick way out. I found a last minute airBnB and moved in that next night. My host was a gay male who lived with his partner and their Brazilian female roommate. I had a room with private bath, complete with a picture of a priest hanging above my bed. On the adjacent wall hung a large poster of a man tugging on his underwear. I thought it was odd, but so happy to have an affordable private room that I interpreted it as questionable taste in wall decor but nothing more.

It was a Saturday night and I decided to stay in after the previous evening's festivities. At 11pm I heard a loud pounding on the front door. I was the only one in the apartment so I didn't answer it. I didn't meet anyone other than my host, so I wasn't sure who I could or couldn't let in. The pounding got louder and was accompanied by a low pitched Spanish voice. Perhaps it could have been his partner, but I remained in my room silently until the visitor left.

Half an hour later I heard someone enter the apartment. There was a soft knock on my bedroom door. I thought it was one of the roommates coming to talk to me, but when I answered, my host was standing there in a pair of bright red bikini briefs!

"Hola Jeff! Is everything good?"

I stood there in shock, doing my best to act natural and ignore his naked body, and just nodded. 

"You are my friend.." I could smell the alcohol oh his breath.

He took my hand and started shaking it.

"We are friends, Jeff. I'm going to take a shower now. Are you going to shower?"

Me - "no I don't plan to"

"Because I'm going to shower. Are you sure you're not going to shower? Like right now? Because I am."

Finally he left and I closed my door. I wasn't sure what just happened. I knew he was drunk based on his slur and smell, but we did have to turn on the hot water from the kitchen so maybe he wanted to make sure I didn't need it..

There was another knock on my door. I opened it but there was no one there. I looked into the hallway and saw a hand waving from the bathroom. I shut my door, realizing what was happening and laughed as I was messaging with a friend at the time.

Another knock. I opened it again to see an arm flexing playfully from the bathroom. I locked my door at this point and stopped responding to the knocks.

I heard the bathroom door slam and I hoped that was the end of it.

Around 12:30am, more pounding on the bedroom door.

"Jeff... Are you okay? Is there a problem."

"Yes I'm fine, but please leave me alone"

Him - "Are you sure you don't need anything like... You don't want to go out? It's Saturday. I go out with you. Or maybe you like... sex?"

Humor went out the door and I had to get serious.

"I'm fine but I am not your friend. I am your guest, through a service, and if you don't stop bothering me we will have a big problem"

"Are you okay? You don't sound okay. Who's in there with you?" He started raising his voice and pounding on the door.

Me - "No! No soy su amigo..."

"Oh yes, spanish! I like when you speak in Spanish.. Oooh... I'm getting turned on!"

At this point I didn't know what to do aside from yell through the door for him to stop and then try to ignore him.

He sat by my door for another hour telling me about how he was planning on having friends over and that he wanted to come into my room to make sure his partner wasn't in there. It was 1am and I could still hear him sitting there on the floor scratching longingly on the door frame.

I was disturbed and uncomfortable. The part that scared me the most was that he kept mentioning others coming over. So I prepared to defend myself with my pocket knife and hiking stick. I sent messages to my emergency contacts telling them what was going on in case this turned violent. I barricaded my door with my bags and made sure if anyone tried to get in, I was ready... No trains were coming through this station!

I woke up the next morning with my hiking stick laying next to me. I could hear him on the phone outside laughing like nothing had happened. I was supposed to have another night there but packed my things, left the keys on the bed, and got out when the coast was clear.

I ended up at a hotel that was shut down for the holidays. It was just me there wondering what the heck was going on in Lima. I needed to relax, so I looked into getting a massage. I found a review online that said there was a parlor where all the massage therapists were blind. It sounded interesting so I went to check it out. Nothing could be worse than my airbnb experience!

The parlor wasn't difficult to find. When i arrived, they led me back to a room and had me get setup on the table and wait for 15 minutes. The door opened and I could hear the clanking of high heels on the tiled floor. I've never seen a therapist wear high heels during a massage before, but figured she was called in and was probably going to change. The masseuse confirmed the details of my session and I nodded along. The massage started and everything was great. I still remember peering through the cushions staring down at her high heeled shoes and painted toes wondering why she'd want to wear those for an hour. The massage stopped momentarily. I could hear some rustling. That's when the masseuse jumped on my back and started sliding her entire torso along my back! She was in her underwear! I was in shock, and momentarily paralyzed wondering what I should do next. I had to say something. So I stopped her nicely and asked what exactly I paid for and agreed to. It was the first time I turned over and realized she was a young, pretty Peruvian girl. And nope, she wasn't blind! I guess sensitiva was not synonymous with Swedish...

Must've missed that lesson in Spanish school!

All I could do after my two days in Lima was laugh at the events and be grateful that everything turned out okay. I was safe.

I told AirBnB about what happened the night before. They kicked the guy out of the community, refunded my money, and gave me a $300 voucher for my next stay. They were great to deal with after the fact, so I'm hoping this was a rare situation and intend to give them another shot.

And for future reference, I'll read more into what wall decor tells me before deciding to stay anywhere!

Dec 10-12 - The Gambler

Dec 10 - San Francisco

I booked a one way flight home for the holidays, but knew as soon as I arrived that I needed to get back on the road as soon as possible. Reverse culture shock had set in and I felt much of what I was learning slowly slipping away.

After conversing with a friend, he convinced me to make a stop through San Francisco before heading back. I was hesitant at first but thought it'd be a good opportunity to be somewhere familiar and prep for the next leg of my journey.

Being back in the city was different than I had imagined. It was the part of my past that I missed the most. I often found myself on the road thinking about the city, the people, and maybe one day making my way back. But when I arrived, it was almost as though I didn't belong.. At least not anymore. I visited my favorite places, and saw many familiar faces but honestly it was weird.

It was as if someone had gone through and highlighted all those transactional relationships that only functioned when I was able to provide a direct value. A value such as companionship or physical presence.

It wasn't a bad thing, just eye opening. And like I said weird.. But it also did something very positive. I was able to focus on physical healing and take in a deep breath emotionally. I found areas of my old life that needed closure and healing. I also noticed budding relationships that were thirsty for development. That was where I spent my time. I didn't call or spend a lot of time with some of my closest friends and mentors because I knew they would understand why.

Mending areas of my life that were cut short before I left was important. I never meant to hurt anyone. I didn't even know that I did. But sometimes it happens unintentionally, especially when pressed for time. If closure provides room to heal, then I'm hoping that my time in SF provided that where needed. I know it did for me.

Maybe that's why I was there. To see the city with new eyes, to heal, and open up new avenues for emotional connectivity with others.

Dec 12 - The Gambler

This is not something I would normally write about, but I'm going to be vulnerable with you all for a minute.

I used to have a gambling problem.

I've had casino status since I turned 21. I used to save money just to have enough of a bank roll to play with. There were times when I lost thousands of dollars bringing my account balance back down to a few hundred. This was when I was younger and chasing a high. The quick adrenaline rush of hitting big or putting it all on the line... They were also the years when I was most alone. Not able to develop real relationships, so I hid away at a table where the dealer felt like a friend. Not the easiest acknowledgment to make, but an honest one.

In 2010 when I started restructuring my life, I realized that I was masking unhappiness and changed my approach. I didn't stop gambling, I just controlled it. One time a year, maybe a second if there was a special occasion. 24 hours of exposure, set budgets, and win or lose I was going home happy.

After a few years, I no longer needed the time at the tables to feel complete. I already was and that made a huge difference. You might not believe me if I told you this, but once I made the mental switch, I won all the money back that I had lost over the years. Every penny..

I did have one trip to Vegas that ended poorly. It was my birthday in 2013 and the friend I was supposed to meet ended up getting sick the day I arrived. I was alone for two days and reverted back to old habits. I lost bad. Putting some of this trip in jeopardy... It was an expensive lesson, but a huge learning opportunity that I took very seriously. I haven't retuned to a casino since. Until I found an itinerary from San Francisco to Peru with a 5 hour layover in Vegas.

I was nervous just booking it, but mentally prepared for what it might or might not bring. I had a budget of $2000. My leftover Antarctica budget to be specific. I had spent half of it in the Galápagos and no longer had enough for a last minute cruise to visit the 7th continent. It was a big risk, but controlled. If I won, I'd go. If I lost, I'd reassess.

The first few hours did not go well. I was chasing everything. Trying to win. Almost desperate. I had $500 left and finally decided to settle at a single roulette table for my last hour and accept the outcome win or lose.

I told the dealer about my round the world trip and my plans for Antarctica.

"It costs at least $4k to get there. I only had $2k left, so I brought it here. It's not looking good right now, but sometimes you have to do crazy things to make your dreams come true."

The dealer shook his head and I didn't feel the most comfortable with my statement but I was at peace with accepting my fate.

He left for his twenty minute break and I ended up losing half my stack. $250 left when he finally returned.

"You're still here?"

"Barely hanging in there," I replied.

A couple sits down next to me. They point to the chips sitting next to the dealer and ask, "what are those yellow chips?"

I respond, "those are thousand dollar chips. The purples are worth $500. They're always sitting there, but they never hand them out. They're like unicorns."

I looked at my stack, looked at my watch, and said, "you know what, I have 30 minutes left, let's chase some unicorns".

I put everything I had on the table and placed $150 between 17 and 20. The dealer shook his head before spinning the ball. I stood up and packed up my things.

"20" said the dealer.

I jumped up. "No way!"

He paid me out. $2500. I looked at the couple, they looked at me, we high fived. I looked at my chips on the table and said, "we need some unicorns, come on David, let's see if you can go back to back!"

I doubled my bet. $300 was now sprinkled around and on 17 and 20. Round and round, we watched as the tiny ball of destiny spun until finally settling in..

"20!"

"No way!!!" I was yelling at the couple at this point. We were jumping, high fiving, shaking each other and yelling about unicorns. The pit was in a frenzy, scrambling to do the math. A crowd started to form around the table. The dealer was smiling now and shaking his head in disbelief.

He paid me out. A handful of yellow chips laid out in front of me.

I put the chips in my pocket. Looked at the dealer. He smiled and held out a fist. We touched knuckles as I said, "I can't even believe what's happening right now. you think you have three in you?"

"Only one way to find out..."

I left my money out there and watched as the ball spun round and round yet again.

"32"

That magic spot right in between 17 and 20. I had chips there! Purple chips were coming my way. The table was hot. I didn't even know what was in my pocket. I just kept looking at what I had in front of me and knew I had to walk away soon.

I looked at the dealer and said, "this is for Antarctica" as I pushed my remaining betting chips into position.

I turned to the couple who were now my best buds, "I'm nervous. I've never bet this much before.. Like in my life. I don't even know how much is out there. But hey if it hits, I'm doing a cartwheel".

"No more bets!"

The crowd grew silent. My heart was racing. I closed my eyes. Some stranger was behind me rubbing my shoulders. My three towers of chips stood alone in the center of the table as the pit bosses stood cross armed watching anxiously. I turned around. I couldn't watch.

I still remember the chill that rushed through my body when I heard the dealer yell,

"17!"

Cheers erupted. I fell to my knees and buried my face in my hands.

"Oh my God!!!!! Are you serious right now?!?!"

I couldn't do a cartwheel, but I shimmied down that aisle while laughing and yelling, on the verge of tears.

I returned to the table and looked at the dealer, "this isn't real," I blurted out. It was 3am. It sure didn't feel real.

"Enjoy Antarctica" he said with a big grin on his face.

I waited one more spin before tipping and cashing out.

High fives and thumbs up from people I had never seen before as I walked nervously over to the cashier and emptied my pockets.

In 30 minutes, I somehow managed to turn $250 into $19,000. I'm nervous just writing that out.

One of the craziest moments of my life for sure. Maybe it was destiny. I'm just following signs. I wasn't even supposed to be here. But I've been seeing my spirit guide everywhere. As if showing his presence whenever I pick up a new piece of this giant puzzle. After what just happened at the roulette table, I'm past the thought of coincidence. The universe is lending me a helping hand.

And right now, it's sending me to Antarctica!

Nov 24-Dec 2 - The Soldier

I'm sitting on a bus right now somewhere between Chile and Argentina. It's Christmas Eve and I've been on the road for three days straight.

Over a month has passed and I haven't written a word. I've had my reasons, but more than anything I'm struggling to figure out how to tell a story that still has me scratching my head in disbelief. So much has happened since my ayahuasca vision, I don't even know where to begin. But I have 12 hours until I get to my destination, so I'll do my best to get caught up.

I went straight to the Galápagos Islands after the Amazon but not for the reasons you might think.

I was chasing the wolf.

Wolf island and Volcan Wolf, both part of the Galápagos archipelago. Destinations that had jumped to the top of my list following my time with the Shaman. I wasn't sure what I was looking for or what I would find, but I was determined to get there. I canceled all my other plans for Ecuador and took the next overnight bus to Guayaquil and flew to the islands that next day.

My experiences on the islands were mixed. After my first few days searching for a boat and logging a couple of dives, I was actually annoyed. Not by the scenery, but by the people. I watched bus loads of tourists hop on and off vans like clockwork with their humongous camera lenses and Safari hats. I could barely enjoy diving with hammerheads because of another diver's selfie stick and GoPro interference. The conversations were becoming stale. Same faces, same details, same plans. It was as if I was being sucked into a rip tide of backpacker complacency where everyone wanted to tell me how to see everything they just did. I wanted to hide. I actually wanted to restructure my entire trip, bring my big camera home, cancel Antarctica, and pull myself out of the circuit. Maybe that's what five days in a tourist center will do to you following the isolation of an Amazonian community. Whatever the case, there were moments of undeniable awe and I wanted to give the islands a fair shake before making any rash decisions.

Let's continue the story...

Nov 24 - Chasing the Wolf

I lost everything. My phone is broken, all the pictures from my trip are gone, and so are numerous blog posts. I'm sitting at an airport looking for seats comfortable enough to sleep on for the night as I wait for my last minute flight home.

This is where the path of the wolf has led me. Two and a half months after leaving the states and I'm tracing my steps right back to where I started. I feel like I'm cheating. Abandoning my journey in a way but conflictingly excited to surprise my family and friends for Thanksgiving.

Volcan wolf. I was there. Or at least as close as possible given the circumstances. I was on a last minute cruise. Three days in and having the time of my life. Great people, decent weather, playful animals, and pictures that I loved... My stance was shifting on going home. I wanted to press forward and continue south. That's until my phone got wet and I lost everything. Was it a coincidence that it happened on the day we circled the volcano named wolf? I'm not sure, but it changed the second half of my time in the Galápagos.

Not having my phone shifted my priorities. I used my SLR daily for the first time since starting the trip. Snorkeling was less about capturing moments and more about enjoying them. I free dove with sea lions, stared eye to eye with sea turtles and got to know the people around me instead of constantly worrying about capturing everything. It was a blessing in disguise and one that I tried not to stress over or worry about. Besides, how can you stress out when you're surrounded by such unique nature? Only a fool would look only at what's been lost instead of cherishing what's right in front of him.

Nov 28 - Coming Home

I did it. I came home. It was an easy decision. I had a broken phone, wanted to swap gear, and the flight cost was exactly the same to come home as it was to head two hours south to Peru.

I took apart my phone and recovered my pictures. I surprised my family for thanksgiving. I was there for my best friends' newest addition

And caught up with some of my oldest friends in town for the holidays.

But these were not my main reasons for coming home. Those were the sprinkles. I was after something very specific aside from my pictures.

You see, being on a cruise for six days with the same group of people, our conversations naturally started to change. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner I sat with the same group hearing about what growing up was like in different parts of the world. One conversation really stood out as I learned what it was like growing up in East Germany during the tail end of the Cold War. I'll admit, history has never been my strongest subject, but hearing a first person account of the east vs. west divide in Germany and preparation for a possible WWIII along with their "soviet brothers" was very eye opening. I've never really had to talk about history before especially as it pertained to other parts of the world. Conversations in the states hardly ever went there. We were products of our environment, and mine wasn't one that often discussed international affairs. Eventually it came around to what it was like in America, so I responded -

"...Growing up I was encouraged not to talk about controversial topics such as politics, religion, or money. Where a person stands politically tends to be based on how much money they have or don't have. That or race. My generation didn't have to face many of the issues that prior generations experienced. Many of us don't know war. I know I don't. We were caught in the age of progressing technology. That, work, capitalism, and racial divide..."

The response written here might not be verbatim  and might make some people squirm, but it was my truth at least the way I experienced growing up in California. My history is rooted in the fact that I was part of a first generation minority family trying to blend in and keep up with the majority. We have a story too. One that I realized I didn't know as well as I should.

That's why I came home. To talk to my parents and do some research. I knew conversations like these were going to become the norm the more I traveled. If there was any story I needed to sit down and understand, it was theirs...

Dec 2 - The Soldier

Talking to my parents about their individual stories was something I hadn't done since college. It was nice to uncover details which resonated more now than they did back then. I had never put their stories into the context of what was happening in the rest of the world. I guess I never really had a reason to outside of homework assignments. Not using the information for over 10 years is a sad statement, but here I am with the opportunity to ask once again. An opportunity that I know won't last forever.

There has always been a strong contrast between the stories of my father and mother. Two very different roads impacted by the same world events somehow leading them to one another here in the states.

My mother's story was somewhat new to me. I guess we had spent most of our childhood hearing about my father that the details of my mother's family weren't as deeply engrained in my mind.

My mother's great grandparents were a Don and Doña in an area of the Philippines called Batangas. This was during the era of Spanish rule. They had a castle and a very large plot of farm land that made it through two generations up until the Japanese infiltrated the Philippines during WWII. They took over the castle and used it as their military base while my grandparents and mother, who was an infant at the time, fled to the mountains to fight in the guerrilla battalion. While her father helped the Americans fight off the Japanese, her mother tended to the wounded. When the Japanese-American war was over in the mid 1940s, they returned to their land to find the castle destroyed. Her grandmother never recovered from the shock of it all and died soon after. For her family's service during the conflict, my mother was able to get a scholarship from the Philippine Government that helped pay for her education.

While my mother's childhood was rooted in WWII, my father on the other hand was a product of the war. The Japanese had been using an area of the Philippines called the Cagayan valley as a main source for their food and supplies. The Americans had sent soldiers there to fight along side the Filipinos in the early to mid 1940s. My grandmother was a widow at the time and met an American soldier..

The conflict ended later that year and my father was born shortly after. He was a war child in a poor province of the Philippines with different colored skin than the other children. He told us how he was teased. How his step father mistreated him, how he hardly got support from his mother and how he worked for as long as he can remember. His childhood was filled with sadness and is often too painful for him to talk about nowadays... Perhaps this is even saying too much.

Despite the hardship, he put himself through school, got a BS in Crimonology and enlisted in the US Navy. He served as a steward for six years during a time when Filipinos were treated as the next wave of slaves. His earnings for his service... $60 a month. All of which he sent to his mom in the Philippines. His ship was eventually sent to Vietnam where he sat in the active war zone for over a year. He'd often say he didn't think he'd live past his 21st birthday...

Having survived Vietnam, he was granted his US citizenship. He got a job with the Los Angeles Police Department where he worked in forensics as a document examiner.

At the time, the US had also began recruiting workers from the Philippines that held degrees in engineering, education, and/or sciences. My mom applied as a Chemist and set foot on US soil for the first time in 1971. Her work experience in the Philippines didn't count here in the states, so she started as a clerk in a jewelry shop and held other random lower level lab positions before also landing a job at the LAPD crime lab in narcotics.

They still joke about the day they met. When my dad condescendingly said to her, "You must be lost. What are you doing here on the 4th floor? All the Filipinos are down on the 2nd floor."

To which my mom replied, "Who do you think you are foo? I work here too!"

Okay, not verbatim yet again (I added in the foo), but you get the point.

The rest as they say is history. A history rooted in war, but that led to a very blessed life for my sister and me. My mom eventually became the assistant lab director for water quality at the Department of Water and Power. My father left the LAPD and became an individual investor in the 90s - a great time for the U.S. stock market.

After writing this out, I've realized that maybe this journey isn't really about me or my travels. Maybe it's about paying tribute to the stories that came before me. The stories that aren't plastered all over social media or that aren't easy to find on the internet. The stories that live within our veins and make us who we are today...

The stories of our families.

I came home to get mine so I could use it on the road as a currency. I'm sure that exchange of history similar to what I faced in the Galápagos wasn't the last of its kind. Maybe trading stories with others around the world can help connect me with history and preserve the memory of my ancestors simultaneously. I'm not sure yet how it comes into play, but I feel more prepared than I did before. I may not personally know war, but it is a part of me. And now I am armed with a story that speaks to my individual culture and the best parts of growing up in the U.S. - opportunity and diversity.

Now before I go, what if I told you that there was more to my ayahuasca vision in the Amazon? Parts that I never wrote about because I wasn't sure how they connected... Maybe coming home wasn't by chance.

I saw a wolf, so I found a cruise to the Galápagos that circled Volcan wolf. I met people on that cruise that talked to me about war which made me consider heading home. When I wasn't sure, my phone got wet and made the decision easy.. I came home, got my history, which as it turns out is rooted in war. How does it connect?

Well towards the end of my vision, there was a moment where it felt as though I was under water. It was brief, but I saw bubbles everywhere I turned. Could that have symbolized my phone getting wet and guiding me home for a week?

Okay, maybe that's a stretch. But what if I told you there was something else in the room that day...

A shadow that I only told my travel companion about right after it happened.

A shadow that the wolf sat and stared at for over half the ceremony.

A shadow of a soldier.