The Haircut.

It has been quite a long time since my last blog so to those of you who have been following my travels sorry for the gap since the last update. That being said, we have been busy! So much so time seems to be slipping past us like cockroaches across toes in the night (believe me that simile holds much more credence after you have been living in cheap hostels for 3 months!). Two weeks left... even typing it gives me hebby jebbys. I suppose I have a few great things to come home to: brats on the grill, a snowless Wisconsin (it had better be!), stressed out friends still in school, and of course family, family, family! But still I am already missing the crisp mountain air and the daily sightings of llamas on the sidewalks of Peru. The rich sense of family and freedom I felt in Ecuador. Guatemala for its tranquility, color, and sense of spirituality. And now, tomorrow morning, we leave Nicaragua. While we say goodbye to our host families from two years ago, say goodbye to El Fortin and its bright eyed children, say goodbye to all the beauty that is Nicaragua we also say hello again to another old friend, Costa Rica. I cant wait to see what adventures she has in store for us!
The girls and I have really been trying to live in the present... having just re-read my last paragraph I need to start trying a little harder! That being said I cannot catch you all up on the events of the week my sister and some friends came to visit, or all that El Fortin means to me, or all the seemingly mundane moments with my girls in--the smiles shared and the conversations had are far to numerous and beautiful to try and put in print. However, just yesterday I did have a life-changing experience at a rather unexpected place that I would like to share with you all. It was not in El Fortin or on horseback in the rolling hills of northern Nicaragua, but rather at a barber shop in Granada.
As a cautionary precursor: my beautiful mother usually cuts my hair and despite never being classically trained in the barbering arts she is freakin´ amazing. That being said, yesterday I had the most amazing haircut of my life! Sorry ma. This was a barber shop. Not a $12 and week of undie grundies for being the only kid on the playground with crooked bowl cut, cost cutters, or an ammonia-smelling salon, but a barber shop. A real one! One you may find old black men in talking about Joe Lewis or Muhammad Ali. The kind of place with chairs wide enough for a man´s behind and his 6-shooter.... I´ve got it!... the kind of place Clint Eastwood would go to get his ears lowered, that is if he doesn't just look at himself in the mirror and terrify his follicles into the proper length.
So picture this place... in Nicaragua. Hugo was my barber´s name and his hands felt like cool pillows on a warm summer night. They worked fast and with the confidence of a seasoned trapeze artist. The once unkempt locks never stood a chance. They fell to the floor in clumps all too aware of their own defeat. It seemed like I had just sat down and already it was over. My scruffy chin dropped to my chest as I sat in awe but somehow managed to muster up enough Spanish to ask for what I really wanted that day-- ¿Puedes afeitarme tambien? (Could I get a shave as well?) What with the threat of a sliced jugular and the proceeding lawsuit on the hands of the establishment I´m not sure if straight-razor shaves are even street-legal in the States anymore... all I knew is that in the past year or so (or the time I could actually ask for someone to shave my face and not have them laugh at my poor excuse for peach fuzz) I had never had a straight-shave... and I wanted one, now more than ever. Hugo with his hands now out of sight said without a flinch, ¨dude, I could curl and color your hair if you really wanted me to.¨ Wow, what a man.
With the pull of a lever I was suddenly looking up at the make-shift duct work of the old Spanish-colonial building. A series of washes later (as a traveler you accumulate a grayish film on your skin I like to think is a combination of dead skin, dirt, sweat, and freedom... mostly dirt though) he was on me with the blade. I closed my eyes either confident with his skilled strokes or foreboding the sprinkler of blood that would surly stain those dirty ducts when once trusted hands do slip. The experience past like a dream... I remember only flashes and then all of my pores inhaled at once... as if for the first time. Then came the after shave that smelled like fresh cut wood, lotion that smelled like the mountain air of the Andes, and finally another cream that I can only describe as smelling like pure brawn... I cannot be sure to this day but I have a sneaking suspicion it was pure testosterone. I stayed in my re-born position for a while undisturbed, and then I heard it. It sounded like the small 5 hp engine of a weed whacker starting up. I opened my eyes just for a moment and I saw Hugo with a contraption on the back of his hand that looked like a small silver canister but it shook his entire arm violently as if it were filled with radio-active atoms or killer bees. Hugo then proceeded to massage the hell out of my entire face, sternum, head, and arms until I was all but numb from the chest up... I was speechless. The machine strapped to his hand finally coughed and sputtered to an immediate stop and with the pull of another lever I was upright again, looking at an image of myself in the mirror before me. As if my own hand was now possessed I reached it to my cheek to examine the master´s work.

I dare you to find a baby´s butt that smooth.
I then realized, this is what God must feel when he gets a shave!

Happy Easter Everyone!

Love,
Cory

A Scorched Earth

When I originally submitted this blog I was entirely tired of typing but I´m better now. This poem doesn´t mean much without the history behind it so here is a quick history of Guatemala durring a period of it´s 36 year civil war. The information is curtosy of Loney Planet:

In 1982, General José Ríos Montt initiated a ¨scorched earth¨ policy, which is believed to have resulted in the extermination of the populations of over 400 villages at the hands of the military. President Ríos Montt, an evangelical Christian, was acting in the name of anti-insurgency, stabilization and anticommunism. An estimated 15,000 people, mostly Mayan men, were tortured and massacred; 100,000 refugees fled to Mexico.

It is a gruesome tale that has no doubt left Guatemala scared for generations. Somehow, despite the history, despite the memories and the effect they have on day to day life, the people of Guatemala carry on.

A Scorched Earth

Guatemala

*

Scorched lives.

Tender to the touch.

Brittle like stacks of cinder.

On a hickory-stove perimeter

Ashes to ashes.

Dust to dust.

Neath naked feet

When the rains dont come

The coffee don´t grow.

The children don´t know

How scorched the dusty dirt

Beneath their naked feet

really is.

*

Quenched only by the blood

Of a thousand unaswered prayers;

Like neglected peddlers with their wares

The land stays scorched.

But bears a beautiful fruit.

With a calloused skin,

And a thick, wrought rind.

Oh but this fleshy fruit

If only squeezed

Could sow the seeds that sustain

Rebirth.

Could quench this weary, ravaged

Scortched Earth.

*

Cory Ploessl

From Hand Woven Rags to Riches

Puerto Escondido, MX (one of many beaches)

I am an amazing seaman, I´ve always said that.

On top of my hostel with the Mission church in the background

Lake Atitlan in the morning.


Hello all, I try to post at least one blog for each country but I am falling a little behind as Guatemala and Mexico are kind of happening simaltaneously. Meaning, I arrived in Guatemala a little under 2 weeks ago but I have since flown up to Puerto Escondido, Mexico to shoot the photography for the wedding of one of my friends from high school. After about a week here in Mexico I will return to Guatemala for a couple of days before we make our way for Nicaragua. That being said these two experiences (Guatemala and Mexico) couldnt be much more different.
In Guatemala the girls and I are working at a Liberation Theology Catholic Mission that has been helping out in the area for over 60 years. Liberation Theology, in a nutshell, is basically taking all of the social action portions of the bible and making them real especially in developing countries. At this particular Mission we work on a number of projects from reforestation, to coffee and fair trade for the local farmers, to public health, to building woman´s centers, to education, to house construction and really so much more. The Mission really focuses on sustainability so all of the programs are run by local Guatemalans. It acts like just one of many different helping hands in the community as oppesed to a hand that simply gives a gift and turns a blind eye.

It is located in San Lucas Toliman which is a rather rural city on the shores of Lake Atitlan and at the foot of a number of majestic volcanos (one of which I climbed... bitchin´). While I was there I would wake up evey morning to the sound of roosters squaking to the heavens and the smell of freshly lit wood-stoves in preperation of another day. Perhaps its being in the mountain air again, or perhaps it´s the warm welcome and smiles we meet in the streets every day, but San Lucas eminates a real sense of purity and sincereity in everything that it stands for. Jeanne has been sponsering a child here since she first visited the Mission in high school. We were lucky enough to be invited to this 11 year old girl´s birthday party. And boy was it a party. There was food and traditional drink... and about 20 old ladys who prayed for the girl for about 45 minutes straight with chants and songs a plenty. I still prefer pin the tail on the donkey but seeing their warmth and being apart of it was truly amazing.

I wont lie and say that I have made some great difference for the people of San Lucas through my work. To be honest I wasn´t there nearly long enough to do so. But I can be certain that in my short time in Guatemala, it has made a truly great difference on me.
And then there is Mexico. My interruption, my detour on the path. Grandma, if you are reading this you will be happy to hear that while in Guatemala I woke up early and went to bed early. I went to mass on Ash Wednesday, and I played with childeren outside of the church in my free time. I wrote poetry and pondered the important things in life. That being said I am now in Mexico with some pretty well-off folks, who like to party a bit. I haven´t hit all of the 7 deadly sins since I have been here but I sure have made a dent! (sorry grandma) No, no I am behaving myself to some extent but with the ocean-side bungaloo (greed) and the 5 course meals (gluttony) and the long lazy days spent on crystyline beaches (sloth) and my ablility to photographize the hell out of a wedding (pride) the days of piety in Guatemala seem a ways away. And the best part of it all is I haven´t paid for a thing! My friend, Selina, and her new hubby Tom have been absolutely generous twoards me and for that I am incredibly grateful. As for Puerto Escondido... I thought I had seen my fair share of beaches through my travels down here... but wow, this tops them all! It is truly breathtaking. Tomorrow we are taking a boat tour to see dolphins, sea turtles, and possibly wahles. I might swim with friggin´dolphins! How cool is that!? So that has been my Mexico experience. A lot of beauty, a lot of indulgences, but all in all I long for the dusty dirt roads and scabby street dogs of Guatemala and all of Central America. It feels like home there. It is something that my words just cannot explain so I wont even try. I just can´t wait to go back home.

The Coaster of Life

AHHH Cuy!... tastes like greasy chicken.

Bridget and I taking the leap of faith.

Quito... From on High

Ecuador has been a roller coaster ride in every sense of the tried and true cliché. From waiting in lines, to hair raising anticipation, to death defying drops, to loop-d-loops, to pure euphoria, to the feeling of your stomach twisting over, and finally to emptying the day´s chili-cheese fries from belly to unsuspecting stranger´s sandaled feet--yup... roller coaster just about sums it up. We started in Quito, the capitol city. There is something you should know about capitol cities in Latin America: from my experience they are crowded, they are a bit more dangerous, and finally they smell a bit like a McDonalds bathroom that just made little Petey quit his first job because $5.50 an hour sure as hell aint worth cleaning THAT up! This is a sweeping generalization. Quito seemed different however. It was beautiful with its colonial architecture, charming plazas, street vendors and clowns with smiles from ear to ear (either painted or natural) and not even a hint of urine in the air! We were impressed. The first day was great we toured a gothic church circa 15 hundred and something and climbed to its 50 something story precipice to look at our new capitol city treasure from on high. It was breathtaking.

That night we realized that all the stores were locking their doors at 7 p.m. and pretty much everything was closed by 10. This is strange in a culture where the party usually starts at 1:00 in the morning and ends with breakfast. Being the old weary curmudgeons that we 4 are we thought it a good chance to go back to our 125 year old beautiful $5 a night hostel, exchange back massages and get some rest.

The next day while trying to get in a taxi in a busy intersection, while the light had already truned green, Maria's small day pack was stolen. Through the chaos we didn't even notice it was gone until we had arrived to our destination. Well her passport, money, IPod, camera, journal... etc. etc. was stolen and the rose-colored glass box that we had been living in had all but shattered around us. We spent the next 2 days on a different sort of Quito city tour as we toured police stations, the American Embassy (a couple of times) and countless other places as the bureaucracy of obtaining a new passport in a foreign country bearded it ugly head (this would be the waiting in line portion of the roller coaster.) When it was all said and done we had each other and that was the most important thing... that and it turns out if you´re and American citizen you don't have to wait in line at the American Embassy (and that´s why I pay my taxes with a smile).

We spent a couple of days with an Ecuadorian family who was hosting another girl from Beloit that we knew and had a great time spending time with their kids and making them ¨American¨ lasagna.

We then went to a quaint little city called Baños which packed a punch. I like to consider it my favorite little tourist (or adrenaline junkie) trap on this side of the hemisphere. In Baños we mountain biked through the Andes, went bridge jumping (similar to bungee jumping without the bungee... more of a swinging motion), ate the local delicacy Cuy (or roasted guinea pig), repelled down waterfalls, traversed across river gorges via something that resembled a mix between a ski lift and those underwater shark cages that National Geographic folk use to keep their appendages, and finally we danced up a storm. All of this in only 3 days! At one point in our dancing frenzy even the local latino population (known for their sensual suaveness on the dance floor) had to stop and take notice of the Grigos cutting a serious rug across the floor. It was pretty sweet.

Then there was the bus ride from Baños to Cuenca. The death defying portion of our coaster ride. Our driver was a bit nuts as he almost hit a lady, didn't care to swerve pond sized potholes, and almost got us stuck in a ditch when turning around to forego the portion of the road that was blocked by landslide. Neat. Long story short it is an 8 hours of (stomach twisting) fun I wont soon forget. Then I got sick... surprise, surprise. It was either from the aforementioned bus trip from hell or from the plastic bag of mysterious fried skin and corn that I purchased off of the streets for 50 cents right before the bus trip... probably a mixture of the two.

We have been staying with a wonderful family here in Cuenca as well (another family we know from an Ecuadorian who goes to UWEC) and I couldn't think of a better place to... well you remember the reference to the chili cheese fries. The mom, Mary, made me chicken soup and Jello right away (she is actually from Eau Claire and married an Ecuadorian man) so it was like having another mom away from home. I´m better now, however Maria, Katie, Mary, and one of her daughters are feeling the effects of my poor lunch decision of a couple of days ago it seems. Hopefully it will be just as short term as my stint.

Well that should about catch everybody up. Sorry it was so long this time... it has been quite some time since my last update and I thank all of you for riding my coaster of madness today. It has been absolutely amazing... every single jaw dropping, lunch loosing, loving, beautiful, urine scented moment! Thanks for reading.

A Peruvian Poem in Ecuador

Well I´ve made it to Ecuador safe and sound. On the flight to Quito, Ecuador I finished up a poem I had written in Cuzco, Peru and I would like to share it with you all. In Cuzco tourism is by far the largest economic stimulator as it is not only a beautiful colonial town with lots of charm, but also it is a necessary stepping stone to Machu Picchu for travelers around the world. In Cuzco people sell paintings, alpaca hats and sweaters, gum, cigarettes, themselves... anything. Sitting in the plaza for an hour means that one must say ¨no gracias¨ at least a dozen times to old ladies begging for quarters or shoe-shine boys, no older than 5 or 6, promising a glistening shine to my canvas and suede hiking sandles.
One day a woman selling silver pendents started a casual conversation with me that ended in her tears, her life story, an abusive husband, 6 kids to raise by herself, and an eviction notice waiting for her at home. Now it could have all been bullshit, as a young white male here I have a target on my back that says, SYMPATHETIC, NAIEVE, $$$. This label is true to some extent as I hate saying ¨no gracias to all of these people, but I´ve realized that a quarter here and a quarter there will never even make a ripple in the pot. So in true Gringo spirit I´ll just lament about it and write poems! (note: Gringo is a term used in Latin America that refers to mostly white, affluent, foregners.)

In Trying to Force Empathy--Cuzco, Peru

I peddle my passion.
I peddle my pain.

¨No gracias¨

I painted this scene for you to remember.
I wove this hat so I could stay warm--seis soles?

¨No gracias¨

I am your baby sister with a borrowed doll.
I am your bashful brother with a dirty dime bag.

¨No gracias¨

I am your crafty grandfather with a stack of cigs.
I am your great grandmother in broken rags.

¨No gracias¨

I am your calloused father you´ve never seen before.
I am your manic mother on her last scraps of silver.
¨Will you please buy for your girlfriends?¨
¨Will you please buy for your own mother?¨

¨No gracias¨

She faces ecition this afternoon.
She faces the streets for certain.
She must face her six hungry children, you know!?
Beaten.
Broken.
Again.

¨No Gracias¨

¨No lo necesito¨

¨No lo quiero¨

Seems clear enough

Seems polite enough

Seems fair enough?

¨No Gracias¨

I am a nameless face you do not know.
I am a sense of suffer, you never will.
I peddle my passion.
I peddle my pain.

Just don´t look into my eyes Gringo.

It´s harder for you that way.

The past couple of weeks in Peru

I have to play a little catchup as I am new to this game. These first two entries are my first two mass e-mails and should catch you up a bit. I am a picture kinda guy as most of you know so I have also included some photos of the past few weeks.

Hello all,
As most of you know I will be traveling throughout Latin America this semester with some of my friends. The trip will cover Peru, Ecuador, Guatemala, Puerto Escondido-Mexico, Nicaragua, and Costa Rica. I got into Peru on the 15th of January after our first flight was canceled the day before due to the Midwestern wrath of God we all call winter time. My friends and I spent the night huddled up close to one another in Terminal 5... no this is not a swanky Chicago club or 5 star resort but rather a dirty corner of O'Hare international airport at the foot of a McDonalds and a Pizzeria Uno. Needless to say we had to put paradise on hold for a couple of hours--22 hours to be exact. Eventually after 3 days of travel and countless hours in not only O'Hare but also George Bush international airport in Houston (I know what your thinking but I fought the temptation to buy the bull-hide ass-less chaps in Texas) we Made it to Lima, Peru. Lima is the Capital city, and much like most capitol cities in Latin America this means that the majority of the people and wealth are concentrated there. The stark difference between rich and poor is evident around every corner but the same can be said in most cities in the U.S. I suppose. Parts of the city were charming but we got out of there just about as quickly as possible and took a 14 hour night bus to Arequipa--a smaller, quieter more Colonial town at the foot of a couple of volcanoes. So that is where I am now. In a couple of days we will be taking a 3 day trek of Canyon Colcan the second deepest canyon in the world (twice as deep as the Grand Canyon) I am in good health (everything I am eating is coming back out at a comfortable rate and consistancy), however I had some bed-mates the other night and I woke up with some weird red spots on my body... no... no it´s not nearly as sexy as it sounds--I got bed-bug bites (yeah they´re real!) and the itch like the dickens at times, let me tell you. Oh but it is all the life of a traveler. I´m not sure what adventures await me --or bedmates for that matter ;)--but I will try and keep you all updated nonetheless.


I love you,
I love you.
cory



¡Hola a todos!
¡Hace mucho que no les escrito! (much has happened since I last wrote you all) The ladies and I have now called Cusco home for a little over a week now. It is a beautiful colonial city who wears its Incan heritage like a proud parent of a meaningful tattoo. In fact some of the original Incan stone walls have become the foundation for the colonial churches and buildings that sit atop of them. These walls are solid stone and made with such precision that they don't even need mortar to outlast the tests of time, earthquakes, and humanity´s influence as well. In the churches you can see the essence of Pachu Mamma (Incan mother earth), snakes, condors, and pumas (other Incan Deities) in the same paintings and sculptures as Christ. It makes one wonder what this place would look like if the Spaniards had not come in their roaring ships, with their roaring guns, so long ago.... oh wait I went to Macchu Pichu... so I guess I know what it was like! It is thought that Macchu Pichu was like a royal city tucked away in the Andes as a sort of refuge from Spanish Colonialism. The ancient city was never completed as the Incas who inhabited it fled in fear that their secret hide-out had been made. The Incan peoples fled to a last stronghold in the 1530s where they and much of their cultural influence in the area were destroyed by Spanish conquistadors and European disease. Ironically Macchu Pichu wasn´t ¨discovered¨ until 1911 when a European explorer was brought to the holy place by a local boy. From the stonework, to the astronomical observation tools, to the religious iconography this is truly one of the new wonders of the world and I cannot believe my life has graced me with the fortune to actually visit it. Our treck started at 5 in the morning as we climbed up one mountain in the pouring rain. It seemed as soon as we reached the top the clouds hastily split from the ruins as if they had no right obscuring such a sight in the first place. The day proceeded to get nicer and nicer and I even climbed another couple thousand foot mountain just for funsies. All in all it was a great trip as we all joked sipping Pisco Sours (a Peruvian cocktail made of red grape brandy, liqure, egg whites, and bitters) under a palm tree that it was our vacation from our vacation. As I said we´re back in Cusco now, back to being bundled up in our lama wool sweaters, back to the daily grind of sight seeing, cold showers (when we´re up to it), and all the beautiful culture that surrounds us every day here in Peru. I have truly been blessed... for much of this good fortune I have all of you to thank. My friends and family--I am forever grateful.


Love,
cory

Arequipa at night.

Our oasis at the bottom of Colca Canyon

Oh... Machu Picchu!

I only want one souviner from this trip... a llama.

...Talkin´ bout my girls, on Lake Titicaca

I´m a Blogger!

So it is official. Be gone with my journals, be gone with meticulously ¨remembering¨ stuff--I have been lured, seduced perhaps, by the tantilizing glow and allure of the blogging world. There is just no going back from here. For those of you, my friends and family, who are also new to theis shinny new world, take heed. I will be posting my adventures, my memories, my encounters, and my life on this winding avenue that is my new digital life. I hope you enjoy!

P.S. There is no English spell check here in Peru, so while my journeys are vast, and my adventures are at times breathtaking... my grammer, is crap. You have been warned ;)