Miami

You can´t get much farther from Oregon than Miami without leaving the country. Its not just a distance on the map, either, but a very real gut change.

We zoomed in straight from Bogota, so you better believe there was some airport security to be encountered. Erik and I, at this point in our lives, look like some dirty hippies and that, coupled with the fact we were containing a sarong-cum-hobo-bag full of illegal South American produce, we must have been patted down at three different points in the journey by swine flu-bemasked airport officials. By the end, after three days of travel and a whole bunch of cultural profiling, we were ready for four days of Stateside R & R.


Miami kicks ass. Its hot like the tropics, to begin with. You spend most of your time zooming down freeways with water on all sides of you, giant white yachts and mansions not acessible to the average proletarian on mythic private islands.

They dig on conspicuous consumption out there. We chilled on South Beach this weekend, where I came down with a big, shiny, pleasurable case of culture shock. I have never in all my life seen so many moms with fake boobs. Or monokinis. Or their glitzy-trashy friends, the G-strings. Or designer sun dresses to (almost) cover them up with, or waxed pectorals and half-buttoned linen shirts.

We re not in Ecuador anymore. Even though theres a hell of a lot of Spanish going down.

So I dug on people watching, freaked out when restaurants had Rogue Ale on tap, ate Goldfish crackers, threw my toilet paper in the toilet (Latin America has a strict, no-foreign-objects policy) and socialized on the most pristine city beaches I´ve ever known existed. Do these people not litter?

Plus, I got to meet the coolest group of people ever- so shout out to the Erik Anderson crew, family and friends. You guys absolutely spoiled us this weekend, it was love to hang with you all. And thanks for lending me your boy for a little while.



And now we´re back kinging of the roading. Guatemala, to be exact, Antigua to be exacter. Antigua is the old, old capital of the country, until 1770-something when yet another earthquake leveled the place. All the buildings are pastel-to-bright, one story, be-patioed beauty and the streets rock the cobble stone look. It´s located in a triangle of active volcanoes- these people like to live on the edge, tectonically speaking. Basically, its gorgeous. Unfortunately, the gringos know it- there´s about one million Spanish schools here and we actually ate bagels and cream cheese for breakfast. This is not okay. So we´re making like bananas and splitting out to Lake Atitlan in about... twenty minutes. Born to ramble, ya know?

Love to you all,
your still swine flu-free friend,
Cait