Time to Travel

As I wrote the title of this blog I started to revel in the fact that one day I will be able to remove the word to, and speak of my time travel journeys.  However the world isn't ready for this yet, they are hardly ready for the fucking mind explosion that is being created by my fervent typing.  I figured I should time capsule my exploits, starting with my trip to South America.

It all begins several weeks ago, in the early 1820's.  I still don't have my pants and there's any eyepatch covering my left testicle...oh wait this is my time travel story and I'm supposed to be talking about normal travel.. sorry about that.

As I stand in the dark corner of the windowless room, I grip tightly onto my bags and desperately search for a speck of daylight.  I hear erratic breathing and my head is pounding harder than the rain hitting the tin roof.  I haven't eaten or slept in 2 days and paranoia has started to sink in.  I'm also pretty sure that cockroach just licked my bellybutton.  I'm not sure how long I've been here or why I'm naked, but at least my testicle eyepatch is still in place.  I look up to see my brother and realize I crashed at his house since he's giving me a ride to the airport.  Why I'm naked in this scenario, no one knows, just go with it.

So when most people decide to go to a foreign country they have a plan.  They figure out what documents, vaccinations, facial hair is required to enter the country.  I found out I needed to get a Visa for Bolivia and I was supposed to have it before traveling, but I read online you could get it at the airport and decided that I just assumed that would pan out.  When i get to the airport to print my boarding pass it makes me verify that I have already purchased my Visa otherwise I am screwed.  I quickly press Yes and print my boarding pass, because I play by my own rules, no one else's...not even my own.

I then proceeded to fly to Washington D.C., D.C. to Miami., and finally from Miami to Bolivia.  20 hours and some airplane induced gas (always happens...has to be a real thing), I arrived in La Paz, Bolivia. As with all my arrivals to a new destination every woman's body (over the designated age of consent) immediately started tingling.

I also spotted the amazing US Visa $135 sign hanging in a window and thought Fuck you United Airlines and your stupid consent form.  The only thing holding me back was that I lost my pen on the flight and couldn't fill out the stupid form, but luckily a very nice Japanese girl let me borrow her pen.  People are very kind to travelers, especially when they are really really ridiculously good looking like me.  This also marks the 8th time auto-correct has fixed my misspelling of traveler in my ten minutes of writing.  Fuck you spelling, I hate you.

As I worked my way through the airport I found a cabbie and by pointing at the hostel address I was meeting my brother Josh at,  I was on my way.  I arrived and saw my brother, who is now skinnier than me for the first time I can ever recall.  I realize that in a few weeks this will be my fate and a little piece of me dies on the inside.  We bum around La Paz and I get my first taste of Bolivian street grub.  I'm not sure what it is since I don't speak a word of Spanish, but I'm pretty sure it was a potatoey crust filled with farts.  Luckily in my food/sleep deprived state I scarfed it down like it was a goblet of yeti blood.

We saw a pretty awesome street parade and walked through the witches market which had badass items like Llama fetuses and alpaca ponchos.  We also grabbed some coca leaves to give us some needed energy to walk through the mean Bolivian streets.  Sometimes I feared for my life as women kept yelling muy caliente and es muy guapo and pointed in my direction.  I can only imagine what hurtful words they were sending my way.  I also bought a sweet coin purse to hold my foreign funds and thus gained my only souvenir from Bolivia.

After our shopping we decided to hit up a night bus from La Paz to Uyuni so we could go on a tour of the Salar de Uyuni or as I like to call them, the Salt Flats.  So before i describe this bus trip let me just think about the last time you were stuck somewhere for half a day in the same position and wanted to kill yourself.  Our bus didn't seem that bad when we got on, but we got stuck with the back row seats.  The thing about the back row is that everyone in front of you can recline, but oh no, you don't get that luxury because the universe just took a shit on your life.  You get stuck in a busted seat that is leaning forward so you are confined to an inclined fetal position for 11 hours, during which you get one break to pee and stretch.  You're brother is also running a fever and the water bottle you had wedged between your seats has just fallen into the black abyss of the back of the bus.  Due to your brother's fever, you have to crack the window and it's cold and rain will drip on you and it's really loud, so there's no chance you will sleep.  The other awesome thing is that the roads aren't paved for 8 hours of the trip, so you'll probably bounce out of your seat and land right on your testicle.  Universe 1, testicles 0.

After what at that point had been the worst bus ride of my life, we arrived in Uyuni and I soon saw the world as I could never imagine... but that my friends is a story for my next blog post.