Hiaiiii from Hawaii 

If a friend invites you to their wedding in Hawaii, take the excuse and go.Throughout the many weeks trekking across South America, I can honestly say this was the real vacation (from our vacation). Everything for the week was booked, events were planned, and for the first time in months I had an agenda with familiar faces to share it with.

There is something to be said, or often left unsaid, about the people you leave behind.

I’m not talking about the single serving friends you meet on the road, as you are kindred spirits and will most likely wish the best through photos, never physically together again. No, I’m talking about the souls that see you through your dull drums, know your bad days well, and even give you more than companionship to see you through to your next adventure.

These are the people whom you meet “off the road”, which at first never made sense to me as life is a road and we are always traveling toward something. However this reunion of New York friends in Hawaii sent a surge of happiness as I quickly recalled the recent past. In some form or another, they helped me through my path to self-discovery. Seeing them almost half a year later, now that distance and time have fully set in, it all seems taken for granted.

I can recall a similar feeling when my kiwi friend so kindly brought me out to her wedding in Bali 4 years ago; this sweeping emotion of joy for another person. Not just any person, but one you have history with and can truly appreciate the impact of their change. It is so humbling to see loved ones dive into change, whether it be marriage, parenting (babies or puppies), or even quitting a job in search of something deeper.

We often take for granted all the beautiful people in our daily lives while dreaming about our future. These lost souls become apart of the routine which too takes its toll on us.

I guess what I’m saying is it takes meeting a bunch of new faces to realize you cherish the old faces left behind.

Anyway Hawaii is dope. Endless stretches of hikes, public deserted beaches, seat turtles the length of my torso, pods of fifty to a hundred spinner dolphins who will join your swim if you stop splashing and earn their respect, and the poke is almost better than ceviche.

Basically spent seven days in fifty shades of blue, and it still wasn’t even enough (it never is) to explore Oahu. Landed in Waikiki, soaked up sun and caught up with friends for 3 days, among which was my former CEO in New York who I just happened to bump into on the beach at 6am. After the wedding festivities spent two days on the North Shore, which I regret not spending more time in, as it had the best beaches. Finishing up with one day on the west shore and the last back in Waikiki for a nice hike on Koko Head Mountain. There are so many islands to hop and not enough time. I’m not going to dive too far into details on this one as I’m sure you will find your own unique calling here. This island is really one of a kind.

Mexico City

Got off the plane and was greeted by the familiar smell of tacos.

Just kidding but Texas is so close I feel like I’m almost home. The five star hotel was an understatement to the $80USD paid. Safe to say at this point of the trip I was missing home, wherever it was to me anymore. There is only so much weight a body can carry, only so much last-minute booking one can do until it is no longer spontaneous, and more importantly only so much airplane middle seat arm wrestling one can do.

Needless to say Mexico City is beautiful. A lot of high end and low end shops that somehow just cohabit. They have an amazing resource of museums and archeological sites; so much that I’ve decided I will take a future long weekend trip here to focus on them.

The food was still as fresh as South America and we filled up on solid guacamole dip with margaritas. Our hostel was modern, renovated from an old castle. The rooftop pool is where we spent a decent amount of time soaking up the sun.

For such a short layover it was extremely relaxing and the perfect blend of Both North and South America. Viva la Mexico.

The Inca Trail

One day of biking, two days of hiking, three hours of zip line and four hours of walking alongside a train track later we were at the entrance, about to make our last trek up to the civilization hidden amongst the mountains.

It is 4:30am and we are waiting in a line of 100 people, only to be seen by the few with flashlights.

The family of stray dogs greets you and patiently waits as the security guards open the park. This is their morning routine. We are screened in and can begin our slow hike up the dark, large Inca steps. Every dog, including the stubby sausage dogs, eagerly marches past you, no breaks for water or panoramic views. No matter how difficult the elevation or incline, these furry friends were your trail cheerleaders, pushing you to push yourself.

Finally made it to the top to be among the first to enter for the day. We walked toward the first viewing point and it was truly jaw-dropping. The sun was rising, slowly hitting each ruin and warming our bodies like a blanket; we began to understand why the Incas worshipped this God.

Going through each section of their village was like a walk through time. I could only imagine  what every hut was designed for, where the community bathing or eating was held, and how magnificent their scaling rows of vegetation were. The grounds have been emptied for centuries and yet the rock was still strongly pulsing with powerful secrets.

Were the Incas still alive somewhere? Perhaps they knew the land so well they were able to hide in the mountains all these centuries, inventing a new way of life. I couldn’t help but wonder and hope they were still around.

Spent a good four hour up there until we made our long trek back toward the end of the train station. Once at hydro-electrica we could finally rest. In a bus that would drive us six hours back toward Cusco. It was a long, completely worth-while trip and I was looking forward to the comforts of a moldly hostel bunk bed and luke-warm outdoor showers.

Salt Flats

The small village of Uyuni is certainly stuck in time.

Arrived around 8pm to immediately be greeted by tour companies haggling trips to the famous salt flats. We had been traveling with a Brazilian who helped us find the connection bus across town in Potosi, so we felt obligated to go with the same company he booked for the flats. We later found out we were charged double for the one day trip (150pesos per day is average) but everything was so cheap in Bolivia that we took it as an inexpensive lesson.

The air was extremely thin as our lungs were still trying to acclimate to the 15,000 feet elevations. Due to the high altitudes the climate dropped to freezing temperatures and our heads were swimming in nausea. We were able to find a nearby hostel and the best pizza in all of Bolivia, although the modest owner claimed it to be in Uyuni only.

Woke up early to walk about the six street town in search of warmer clothes. Perhaps it was the exchange rate of $1 to 7 Bolivian Pesos, but everything was significantly cheaper here. Found some warm mittens for $1.50 and watched the older Cholita mend the hole in less than 5 minutes while the other ran off for our change.

The SUV took 6 of us on a private tour across their salty plains, pausing at a cool abandoned train yard and even an oasis full of cacti. I was amazed by the height of the giant cactus scattered around this small island surrounded in a sea of salt. How did they even survive with all the salt?! It was certainly the largest salt flat in the world; nothing but white salt and mountains for miles.

After our outback adventure, we stopped for one more oven-fired pizza and left on another night bus toward the beautiful city of La Paz.


The flight from Rio de Janeiro to Santa Cruz was dirt cheap and now we know why.

The layover in Saõ Paulo was a bit tricky as we quickly passed customs and boarded a bus across the airport, only to make it to our gate minutes before closing. Once in Santa Cruz customs we discovered we were 70% prepared for our visa. Sat at the border  for almost an hour as we used their poor wifi (lucky to have wifi at all) to create make-shift hostel and bus documents and send to their official emails to print. We thought was all squared away until the security guard needed $160 US cash. Surprised at the cost of the visa we were escorted to the nearest ATM.

Finally out and took a taxi to our janky hostel in the small town. It smelled of mold and you could practically hear the bugs moving in the two twin bed boards. We took a quick coffee break down the pebbled side street and walked toward the bus terminal to map out our next bus. 

Hundreds of people littered the terminal, selling odd half-cooked vegetables and large bags of cheese-covered pan. We were hustled by multiple bus companies all shouting “Sucre, Sucre”. We found the one bus going to Potosi, as were heard this UNESCORTED city was extremely colorful. Met a nice Brazilian named Louise Paulo who showed us where to pay the 2peso platform fee. In Bolivia you have to buy a bus ticket and another ticket to enter the bus gate… pretty obsurd!

The drive was long and cold, by far the worst bus yet. The seats were damp with dew and dust, and it was so cold we had to put on every layer we owned. Finally warmed a little at day break where we got off in Potosi.

Louis showed us the coca leaves and how they help with altitude sickness, which we were slowly acquiring. Jake was excited just to find American oreos and I bought a couple of bananas to hold us over for the next bus. We wandered the town as Louis helped us get toward our next connection. We were all headed to Uyuni for the salt flats. Even managed to score a large bag of peanuts; the locals laughed as I paid probably too much for them.

Rio de Janeiro

Of all the Brazilian cities, Rio is by far my favorite. The colorful mountainous town is like a another country within a country.

Originally bused from the border to Saõ Paulo, where we arrived in the second largest bus terminal in the world, first being Port Authority. The air smelled of trash and urine as we took a taxi toward our hostel. The Portuguese sounded more like Dutch than Spanish and provided a huge language barrier.

Walked around the city for two days visiting museums and various coffee shops. The coffee is indeed more strong than in Argentina, but nobody has mastered the art of steamed milk. Despite the coffee I must admit this city did not call to me. It was the business capital of Brazil and felt too cold and stuffy.

The Municple court in the heart of the old city has the largest rooftop garden in all of South America. It also has the weirdest process to visit this garden. We spent two days of broken English to finally understand you have to book a tour (only three a day) and wait an hour prior before a registered city guide and two security guards can escort you up. Even the employees in this large 14 story building cannot access the roof! Having four failed attempts we were beginning to think the garden didn’t want us to go up until we squeezed into the last possible 8 person tour we could get into.

Eagerly took a night bus over to Rio de Janeiro where I immediately felt the weight of misery from lift a bit the second I viewed the mountains. The scenery alone is breathtaking, but there is something to be said about the people. They are all so bubbly and welcome you with open arms, not to mention have taken the time to pick up English so it is far less complicated ordering a basic dish.

Spent four glorious days island hopping and  hiking through their national park. We were first at the top of Christ the redeemer, which was magnificent for a good two minutes until buses of people infested the area. The panoramic views were almost fake a no the city reminded me of Wellington, NZ where it was a much smaller city surrounded by mountains and greenery.

Took a boat in the colorful small  town of Angra where we were able to stop off on various small islands. Even got in the water filly with hundreds of striped yellow fish! Spent our last day attempting to avoid the heavy pours of rain. Went to this really cool interactive museum called the Museum of Tomorrow, which basically educates human impact on the environment and how to lower our carbon footprint. 

Spent the afternoon wondering around Sugerloaf mountain where I assume they transported sugar in the late 1800s. It was so cool riding the gondola toward the second mountain as rain thrashed against our window. The view was also grand at the top, and we were lucky to get the five minutes of clarity until the next cloud storm passed overhead. 

Soaked from the rain, we cancelled birthday dinner plans and spent the night watching movies over room service. We had our fill of moqueca, caipirinhas and pão de queijo to last us another decade at least.