Nov. 26: life is different down here

Robert Taylor traveled through South America from Nov. 24- Dec. 29. While there, he kept a journal. Each blog entry is an entry from that journal, posted daily (excluding weekends and a few other days), as it was written while he traveled.

I've only been down here for about 24 hours and I'm already starting to think about things differently, or at least think about the differences between my way of life and the way things are here. Everything seems simpler down here as if no one has a care in the world. Perhaps everyone does care about something but they seem much more relaxed going about it.

In America, it's always go, go,go. Here it seems much more like, I'll get there when I get there. And it seems like everyone in America is always trying to get to the next level, whatever that is. Here, people seem to be pretty content with where they are in life.

I realize this is a pretty broad statement to make after only being here a short time, but I can't help but wonder, if you lived here, would you want to be anywhere else?

I slept until noon this morning. My body must have needed the sleep, that and I love to sleep. I got up and headed to the shower in my room. I couldn't figure out how to get hot water. I'm not even sure if they have hot water in the showers here, but if they don't, I have to wonder why they have to knobs in the shower if they both do the same thing. Are they both just for show? I also have to wonder why anyone would want to live without hot showers, if that is in fact the case. You would think at some point, people would decide they are tired of taking cold showers and do something about it. I quickly decided I wasn't about to take a cold shower, then I saw my hair in the mirror and what a mess it was.

After I was done, I got dressed and walked up the street the hostel is on for a long while before I decided to turn around on my search for an ATM. I walked back down the street and was debating on which way to go from there when I spotted another American and asked him which way one was and he told me their was one down the same street the other way. I recognized that part of the street as the way Tara and I walked to her apartment from the bus stop yesterday. I walked past this place that had really good looking pastries and decided I was going to come back once I had money. I walked past what Tara had identified as a mall and decided to walk though it. I look out the exit on the other side and spotted a bank.

I withdrew some cash and went to the bakery, well, I'm not sure what to call it. They had raw meat on one side and cooked food on the other. It looked like the hot food counter at Paul's to a large degree. I stood where I thought was the line. After standing there for a few minutes, this guy handed me a ticket that they use to keep track of who's in line. I had 87, they were on 68. A few minutes later, his wife handed me her ticket, 81, as they left.

I stood there in line thinking about how to order and going over the words in my head. I realized I was way too excited about doing something as simple as ordering breakfast, but it would be my first transaction in Spanish. Things went pretty well, the lady got me what I had asked for, printed a receipt, handed it to me then pointed. I went where I thought she pointed to and the man there pointed me in another direction to where a lady was sitting in a box in the middle. I handed her my receipt, paid her, she stamped the receipt and I was able to get my food from where I had first gone.

After that I walked to the hostel so I could pay for my room. I handed the lady three 10,000 pesos bills, what it would cost each night, and after a lengthy discussion using two translators, I was able to get one of them back since I had given her $20 the night before. Apparently I had been wrong about trading her pesos for my $20 back. I begin to think I wasn't going to get any money back, but things worked out well.

I then went to the beach and found a place to sit down. I wanted to kick myself because the only item I had left in my room was my flip flops. I think there is a rule on beaches that feet must not be in any shoes on the sand. Or at least my feet have such a rule because the first thing I wanted to do was take off my shoes and socks, which I did.

The beach is great. I think I could look for hours at it. It's amazing how the waves stay the same yet they change as each one is a new wave.

Once there, I ate breakfast, thought about life and wrote for a while. I'm pretty sure my thinking verses writing ratio was way off, but I don't care. It's nice not to have to care about a lot for a while. Everything at home is going to be the same when I get back. I'm not going to worry about it now and instead just worry about enjoying my time here.

I wrote until I had to pee, at which point I once again paid to use the bathroom. When I came out, the spot I had been sitting at was overrun with a bunch of school girls so I decided to walk up the coast line. I found what looks like it might have been a castle at one point. Behind it was a huge house on a hill with a cannon in the front of it. I saw at least three different species of birds I've never seen before. I also bought ice cream by myself along the way.

It seems money may very well be the universal language as people everywhere seem to understand the basic concept of exchanging it for a product in any language.

Then I sat on a pile of rocks and ate the ice cream as the waves crashed in front and around me. Then I walked until I was tired of walking and decided to stop walking and sat down and continued writing.

I think the tide is about to come in, with each wave, the water seems to gradually inch closer and closer to the land. I've never lived anywhere I had to worry about the tide so I don't know anything about it, but I'm guessing it getting closer means it's coming in.