Peru -- Day 2

Ahhhh, what a day. I awoke to the fresh, crisp smell of petrol in the air as the morning rush hour had begun. Did you know the average Peruvian honks their horn in one day more than most Canadians do in a year? Ok, I don't have any real stats to back that up, but it's somewhere between an educated guess and fact.

Today, I decided it would be a good day to take it easy after a hectic day of photography yesterday. So today, I had more fresh fruit drinks, more fresh fish (notice a pattern yet?) and had my first, real pisco sour (it's a drink for those of you who don't know).

I'm staying right across from a golf course, and for the past two days, I've used the outside of the golf course as a running track of sorts, so I could continue my running (30 minutes yesterday, 45 minutes today). While I'm right across from a golf course, I have a view of the ocean...and the mountains...and a building depending on what window I'm looking from. I've included a couple of pics here to illustrate. The pics look a little distorted as I combined about 12 pics for the "building" pic and 6 pics for the "ocean" pic. Unfortunately, you can't really see the ocean in the ocean pic since I didn't spend the time to properly shoot the pic or process it. So just pretend it's there and ooo and ahhh a bit.

Prices for any sort of service or labour here is quite cheap. I had a fantastic meal of an appetizer, fresh fish, a pisco sour, a large fruit drink and dessert for about $20 U.S. (about $15 for Canadian folks, bahahahahaha).

I must emphasize once again that the driving here is nuts. You don't drive in a lane. You drive wherever there's room -- on either side of the yellow line. I'm going to try and take a couple of pictures tomorrow to illustrate the chaos they call driving here. I'm not sure why they bother with traffic signals, lines on the road, or stop signs. Apparently, they all went out of style sometime last decade. Yet, I noticed there were no accidents and very, very few cars on the road seemed to have any visible damage from collisions. It's chaos, but at least it appears to be safe chaos, if there is such a thing.

Tomorrow, I'm going to be returning to a restaurant I visited on Thursday. It's right on the ocean on top of a cliff that looks rather unstable and unsafe. I'm hoping to get a few rather cliche sunset pics, but hey, I've got to do it. It's the law for any tourist to take at least one -- otherwise they don't let you back in the country.

Customs agent: "Do you have anything to declare?"
Me: "Yes, $200 in clothing and $150 in souvenirs."
Customs agent: "Any liquor, cigarettes, live animals, dead people, or plants?"
Me: "Nope."
Customs agent: "Can I see your sunset picture please?"
Me: "Well, you see, I actually was...well, it was raining most of the time and...well, I mean the camera battery was charging and ---- "
Customs agent: "I'm sorry, I'm afraid that'll be a $2,000 fine. You've let your family and friends down. Here, we'll give you this generic sunset picture you can use for your obligatory vacation slideshow. You ARE planning on a vacation slideshow, aren't you?"

Peru -- Day 1 + The Flight

It's Thursday. I'm in Peru. I've already taken 60 pictures (edited down to 30). I'm eating fresh fish, fresh fruit, and probably anything else starting with the letter "f".

As mentioned in my last post, I don't like to fly. I'm rather subtle about expressing myself, so you may not have picked up on it in my last post unless you read between the lines. (Note, this is called sarcasm.)

There was a big snowstorm in Toronto from Tuesday night into Wednesday morning. Luckily, my flight left in the afternoon, so there was no delays due to the weather. Oh, there WERE delays, but not because of the snow.

As everyone settled in their seats, the flight crew wandered about, making sure people were stowing their carry-ons properly. Well this seemed to be a surprise to one lady sitting across from me who insisted on keeping her bag at her feet. Of course, the steward was equally insistent on the bag being stowed properly. In fact, he discovered that the bag was too big to be considered for carry-on and it had to go with the rest of the luggage. Needless to say, the lady was not amused and didn't want it to leave. The steward pointed out that either the bag goes with the luggage, or she's more than welcome to disembark with her carry-on and try another flight. She chose to put the carry-on with the luggage.

We're now 10 minutes late.

They close the door and start to go through all the announcements about safety (i.e. if the plane blows up, try to hold your breath because there's no oxygen at 37,000 feet) and the lady flags down the steward and says she needs her passport number to fill out the customs form. Her passport is in her carry-on...with the luggage. It was neat as I almost witnessed a member of the flight crew almost strangle a passenger.

They went and retrieved her bag, she got her passport, they took her bag back to beneath the plane and shut the door again. We were now 25 minutes late. The joys of flying.

Ultimately, the flight itself was a boring 8 hours. There were 3 movies of no consequence. Dinner consisted of rice with a "chicken-like" substance with sauce, and shredded carrots au jus. There seemed to be some sort of dessert, though I wasn't able to identify it. I can tell you it had raisins in it...or really shrivelled grapes.

My biggest concern, as always, is the customs agent. I never know what they're going to ask or how they're going to treat me. What if they think I'm hesitating? What if they think my big nose is a sign I'm lying? In this case, it was even more nerve-wracking since their native language was not english and mine was not spanish.

I believe the encounter went something like this:
Customs agent: "Ola"
Me: "Hello"
Customs agent takes passport. *Stamp* "Gracias"
Me: Stares

So here I am. The weather is nice, the food is amazing and the traffic is more chaotic than any video game you can imagine...seriously. As I mentioned, I've taken 60 pics so far with about 30 of them having any merit (to be edited later). One that I had to share right away was a shoe store they have at a mall here. I'm really hoping they understood the play-on-words. See below. I'll try to post occasionally while on my vacation. Pics to follow afterwards. Ciao, baby.

I'm go-in' ona jet plane...don't know when I'll be back again

As of Wednesday afternoon (weather permitting), I'm off to Peru. Now you might be asking yourself "Well what does that have to do with me?" And to that, my answer would be, "Nothing. This is my blog, so I'll talk about myself. And by the way, who are you in the first place?"

As I mentioned in a previous post, I'm not particularly thrilled with the whole idea of flying. Each time I fly, I pack a couple of books and fill up my mp3 player in the hopes that I'll just sit in my seat, relax, read a book and listen to music. Nope! Instead I stare out the window and not move in the hopes that I won't accidentally trigger turbulence. Yes, that's totally rational in my mind...

So I've gone through the routine again of charging my mp3 (full of classical music to calm me), bought some books (Jon Stewart, a sci-fi book and a book on photography), and I'm fully ready to take on the flying experience...not.

I think I've discovered the origins of my stress and fear, though. I think it has to do with how my family deals with the ordeal of flying in the first place. Yes, I'm calling it an "ordeal" because that's how they treat it. So far, I've had my mother, father and a couple of friends ask me to call them to "say goodbye." How's that for sounding a bit fatalistic. I'm going in a plane, not in a casket! Hell, some are calling this my "final blog post". Geez, am I going to the electric chair tomorrow?

But that's how I've been made to feel since I was a kid. There was the "farewell dinner", the "say goodbye" calls and visits, and this pall over everyone as there was the "last hug and kiss." Driving to the airport was always this solemn affair like we were being driven to our deaths. In addition, there was the added stress of do we have our tickets; do we have our passports; are we going to be on time; oh, and do we have our tickets...

So you know what? I say screw it! Tomorrow I'm going to enjoy my flight! It's a non-stop, 8+ hour flight from Toronto to Lima. It leaves in the afternoon, so I'm going to enjoy it, watch the movie, listen to my music, read my book a bit and just generally enjoy the fact I'm going on vacation and I don't have to do any of the driving or anything else.

...or not.

See ya on the other side of next week, folks!

Jeff

A Few Words and a Story

There are certain words that I just find funny. I try to say them and I find myself smirking or stumbling over the word. I can't say them with a straight face...or even a crooked face. These words would include:

• Cockapoo
• Shitzu
• Cockpit
• Penal system
• Uranus
• Winnie-the-Pooh

*WARNING! WARNING! RANT ALERT! RANT ALERT!*

I'm still fuming from a wonderful incident earlier today. Last night, after I parked my car in the garage, I noticed my tire was almost flat. That would be the third time in about a year! You'd think I'm deliberately driving over glass and nails. But I digress.

There's a nearby store that can change tires quickly. I won't name the store directly, but the first word in the store's name is Canadian and the second word is Tire. I didn't have much time, so when I arrived, I asked the gentleman behind the counter how long it would take. He told me about 30 minutes, which was perfect. He told me to go wait in the waiting room -- there's a glass-walled waiting room as a part of the automotive department where you can wait while they work on your car.

I noticed literally 5 minutes after sitting down that my car was already on the lift with the tire off. I was impressed! I figured they'd patch the tire and I'd be out of there in 20 minutes. I went back to reading my newspaper.

30 minutes goes by.

45 minutes.

90 minutes.

The whole time the car was sitting on the rack with the tire off. I finally left the waiting area and headed over to the counter where a second gentleman was now standing. I asked him for an update on my car. After asking around in the back, he comes out to tell me I've already been told the tire cannot be repaired. I stared at him blankly and told him no I hadn't. He insisted I had because someone in the back said so.

So I said to him: "Well lets assume for a moment that's true. Then why hasn't the tire been replaced yet?"

He replies with: "We're waiting for your authorization."

So I said to him: "If I've already been spoken to, don't you think I would have then either authorized it or not right there on the spot? Bring the guy to the front please. I want him to say this to my face that he spoke to me."

So the person who walked out is the first gentleman who initially told me it would be 30 minutes. He then explained how the tire can't be repaired. I told him I've just been told that and howcome I've been sitting waiting for 90 minutes without anyone bothering to tell me.

He then explains he "tried to get a hold of me," by paging the store twice (which can't be heard in the waiting room). I'm stunned.

"Why didn't you just check the waiting room? You know, the automotive department department waiting room where all the customers go while waiting for their car to get fixed?"

"Well I tried to page you."

"Ok, you actually TOLD me to go and wait in the waiting room. In fact, two other customers in there had the mechanics come in and update them on their car and to get authorizations. Those customers you may notice are now gone. It also happens to be a glass-walled room. All you had to do is turn your head to see if I was there. You didn't even need to come in!"

He begins to apologize repeatedly. I told him I appreciated the apology, but rather than apologizing, could I get my car back with a new tire on it, please.

Ten minutes later, the car is done and I'm out the door. As I was paying, the guy behind the counter kept apologizing profusely. I didn't know whether to feel badly or to slap him so he'd stop sounding like a broken record.

You know, in a few years, no one will understand that phrase "broken record" anymore. Kids won't know what records are. We'll have to start saying "...repeated himself like a scratched CD." -- Doesn't sound the same, does it?

Drive. Stop. The Madness. Friday's Thoughts

• Got a fortune cookie today. It said: "Fortune not available. Order must be over $20"
• What the heck is it with people looking for a good head on their shoulders. Everyone has a head on their shoulders. Is there a race of head-on-stomach people I'm not aware of?
• Today I was driven to distraction. It's a lovely town, though no one pays attention to where they're going.
• Do people not know how to use Stop signs? Ever reach a 4-way stop sign with 1 car going in each direction? It turns into a friggin' Three Stooges routine before your eyes. Cars cutting each other off; going in the wrong order; driving around each other. It's simple, folks. If 3 other cars haven't gone yet, it's not your turn.
• I've never understood the analogy of "running around like a chicken with it's head cut off." Does this mean we wander around banging into things and die after 30 seconds?
• Can a Jewish person eat like a pig? Would they know if they did?
• I'm very photogenic -- as long as film isn't used.
• Does the Pope say "Bless you" after someone sneezes in front of him? If so, that's cool because he really means it when he says it.
• "Toodles" came from "Toodly-doo." Who decided to remove the "Doo?" I don't remember seeing anything in the newspaper about it. No notice. No vote.

Do ferrets have tongues?

I received an email the other day from Flickr. I post my pictures on Flickr and occasionally I'll get emails from a group asking me if I want to join because some of my pictures match their theme.

But this one was rather odd:

"Hi, I'm an admin for a group called Ferrets with Tongues, and we'd love to have your photo added to the group."

I thought all ferrets had tongues? And why is this group obsessed with them? It's like having a group "Dogs with legs"

In any case, I thought I'd share. That's all for today. Please carry on.

Sushi and all that jazz

It's a Monday. I'm tired. Luckily, I learned how to sleep-type.

• Vegetarian sushi is not sushi. Sushi is raw fish. Vegetarian sushi is just vegetables that happens to be wrapped in rice.
• Do not jump on a bandwagon. Get on carefully and only while it's not moving.
• Eggplants taste nothing like eggs. (This one courtesy of Mark J.)
• Your life was filmed before a live studio audience
• Anytime someone says to you "I'm listening" they're lying. They're talking. You're listening.
• Someone called me crabby the other day. I shook my pincer at him, told him no and walked away sideways.
• A good time to run: When Hannibal Lecter compliments you on having an open-mind.
• I love those fruit drink labels that say: "Now with 10% real juice." What that really says is "Now it's only 90% totally fake."
• I'm looking for my Equal, but I'll settle with Sweet and Low.

Abby's Report Card

Abby attended doggy day camp again. I think she's going to have to move to the "advanced class" because she's doing so well. Here's her report card.

As you can see, she plays hard, shits hard, made some friends and in all that, even had time to take a break and sleep.

Wednesday's Thoughts

Well Abby is back at doggy day camp again today. Another report card. I can't wait! I'm so weird.

• When I go to an all-you-can-eat restaurant, i typically focus on the "all"
• The maximum times you can lend someone a hand is twice. After that, you have to wait for the hands to be returned.
• Eyes are the window to the soul. My window has drapes.
• Ironic that a one night stand has very little to do with standing
• I should've been more specific when I said I wanted to meet a woman that gives me butterflies. I got moths. They ate all my clothes.
• What's a wazoo, and why do things keep coming out of it or piling up to it?
• Do baby shampoos want to grow up to be adult shampoos?

Brands

It's amazing how much a brand can enter everyday life to the point people don't even realize it's a brand name anymore. Do you have any idea what I'm rambling about? Probably not. So I'll explain further. Some common words you've used to describe products over the years are actually brands and not the real name of the product.

Below is a small list of examples. Things that'll make you go hmmmm....

Kleenex: This is actually the name of a brand. Facial tissue is what it's actually called.

Rollerblades: Have you ever gone rollerblading before? That's actually a brand. In-line skates is the name of the product.

Coke: Ok, this is stretching it a bit, but when you think about it, many times if you're in a restaurant you just ask for a coke, even if you just mean a pop of some sort.

Xerox: For some of you older folks, you might recall asking someone to "Xerox" something, aka photocopying.

Google: Going towards the other extreme, this is very recent. It was a brand, now it's a verb. If someone tells you to "google" something, they're asking you to conduct a search online.

Band-Aids: They're just bandages, though little kids will ask for a bandaid. :)

Zip-loc: Every ask for zip-loc bags? They're actually re-sealable bags, but you'd never call them that.

There's more. Plenty more. Do you know any? Post'em as comments.

Annoying trivia question: What does Hagen Daz mean?